#and shoulder exercises for the shrugging of course

[mrs-johnson]

“Where the Wild Things Are”

Sergei ‘Kraven’ Kravinoff x Female Reader

Warnings: Romantic | Peaceful | Nature Setting.

Summary: Where Kraven takes you out to a beautiful peaceful waterfall for a swim.

The sound of rushing water echoed through the trees, steady and soothing, like nature’s heartbeat.

You sat on the warm, smooth stone at the edge of the watering hole, knees tucked to your chest, watching the waterfall spill over dark mossy rock into the cool green pool below. Sunlight filtered in through the tall canopy, painting your skin in gold.

A deep voice called softly from behind.

“There you are.”

You smiled.

Kraven stepped out of the brush, bare-chested, leaves caught in his long dark hair, a faint cut on his bicep—no doubt from the wild boar he insisted on chasing earlier. You gave him a look. “I told you it’d be waiting near the salt lick. Not halfway up the ridge.”

He crouched beside you, unbothered. “I needed the exercise.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, resting your chin on your knees. “You’re like a kid in the wilderness.”

Kraven leaned close, his beard grazing your shoulder. “And you are the only one I’d ever let catch me.”

That earned a quiet laugh from you. He loved that sound. It was rare—earned only after peace had settled over you, like now. Out here, there was no chaos. No missions. No blood. Just you, him, and the water.

You watched as he dipped his hand into the pool, cupping it and splashing the side of his neck. The water trickled down his chest, and you stared a second too long before looking away, heat rising in your cheeks.

Kraven noticed.

Of course he did.

“Come in,” he said gently. “It’s warm.”

“I just dried off,” you protested with a soft grin.

“Then I’ll carry you in,” he shrugged, standing to his full height.

You laughed. “You wouldn’t—”

But before you could finish, his arms were around your waist. You squealed in surprise, trying to squirm out of his grasp. “Sergei!”

“I warned you,” he smirked, stepping toward the water.

With a delighted splash, the two of you hit the pool. Bubbles surrounded you, water swirling past, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. When you came up, sputtering and giggling, Kraven had the softest look in his eyes.

You blinked at him. “What?”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “I never thought I’d have this,” he murmured. “A moment like this. With someone like you.”

You softened, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “You deserve it.”

His jaw clenched slightly, emotion flickering behind those stormy eyes. Then he leaned in and kissed you, deep and slow, as the waterfall rushed behind you—steady and endless.

⸻

You stayed like that for a long while, floating gently, limbs tangled, his hands tracing lazy patterns on your back.

And when you finally climbed back out, wrapping yourself in the blanket you brought, Kraven sat beside you, close enough to feel the heat of him, quiet and content.

He looked at the water, then at you.

“You are the only peace I’ve ever known,” he said.

You leaned on his shoulder. “Then I guess we’re both lucky.”

[tiredeg]

alex albon fan workout is 8-12 eyerolls, 8-12 deep sighs, repeat until (car) failure

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Yandere idea, reader is dicks baby mama and when dick decides to bring her to the wayne manor the batboys are instantly smitten with her and now all the boys are trying to steal her away from dick who is ready to fight everyone for his baby mama and baby

Smooth Criminal

Synopsis: Dick's brothers want his baby and his baby mama.

Pairing: Soft!Yandere!Batboys X Fem!AFAB!Reader

Tw: Attempt at crackfic; Implied kidnaping; Implied babytrapping; Reader is insecure with post-pregnancy body; Implied forced relationship; Dick controls what Reader wears; Jealous and possessive Dick Grayson; Touchy batboys; Batboys try to gaslight Dick but he's too smart for that; Slightly angry!Reader and accepting!Reader; English isn't my first language.

Word count: 1,2k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Lol this was fun. Divider.

General masterlist

“And how did this happen?”

“Oh well, this one tried to hide the little one from me for a while, but of course I found them!” Dick exclaimed proudly, but with a hint of his (mostly) past anger at you. You bit your tongue while his family laughed.

You were sitting in the manor’s living room, wearing a sundress that Dick chose, waiting for the picnic on the gardens to be prepared by Alfred. The dress was pretty, and it had plenty of room for your babygirl to grow inside your belly without restricting you. Part of you wanted to resent her for being the reason you're stuck with Dick, but it was not her fault, and not yours either, Dick would shackle you to him one way or another.

Damian put his hand on your belly. Without your permission.

“Is she kicking yet?” Dick answered him for you. “You're 17 weeks along, it could happen anytime.” He started rubbing circles on your belly, out of nowhere. “I don't think Grayson would be a much useful help with that. Truthfully there is no sure way to make a baby stop kicking. But you can try to alleviate the discomfort with warm tea, calming music, light stretching exercises and rubbing the stomach.” He smiled gently. You were taken aback.

“Damian is a pediatric surgeon.” Dick explained while draping his arm over your shoulders, before planting his lips on your neck momentarily.

“Yes. But I mostly stick to managing my clinic nowadays. Your labour’s in good hands. I only have the best of the best on my teams.” Damian gave you a small, soft smile, as if trying to reassure you. He stopped his hand movements and smoothly slid his hands around each side of your waist. He was way too close to be comfortable, and even Dick frowned, confused, at that. You tensed at how close his face was from yours, especially because of your belly and chest grownth, and the fact he was kneeling in front of you. But then- Oh…

Your whole body relaxed instantly and you just had to close your eyes.

Damian grinned smartly and Dick looked at him, bewildered.

“Back pains.” He explained swiftly, while his magic hands worked on your back. You found yourself leaning against his chest and almost laying your head on his shoulder. You sighed dreamily. “You can stop by or call me anytime those get to be too much.”

“... Or I can do it myself.” Dick went to replace Damian's hands but you shot your arms out towards him to stop him.

“No, no, no, don't- don't stop…” You moaned when Damian kneaded a particularly tense knot and practically melted against him. Damian held back a smirk, staring innocently at Dick, who looked murderous.

“Thank you, Jay. I really needed that…” 

“I know, you looked so tense when I got here. I knew I could use my hands to loosen you up…” 

Dick bursted in the apartament, having just come back from the Titans Tower and heard the weird talk inside.

“Jay… What’re you doing here?” He said, strained, but hiding behind a mask of good humor.

“(N/N) called me.” Jason shrugged.

“Didn't know you were on nickname basis…” Dick contemplated, entering the room and taking your daughter from Jasons’ arms. He started rocking her to keep her doozing. 

“We're closer than you think, Dickie.” Jason snorted. You pursed your lips and decided to just keep sitting down on your rocking chair. 

“Love, why did you call him?” Dick asked, ignoring his brother and looking straight at you.

“The shower broke, your baby wouldn't stop crying, and I’m gross.” You crossed your arms.

“Seem’s to me someone’s slacking on the job…” Your eyes darted to Jason, wide, and ready to scream at him, even if it would make your daughter wake up. “Not you, sweetheart, never you. But your boy here certainly needs to step up.” He side-eyed Dick. It was unfair, Dick basically took over 90% of the baby’s care when he was home, because he was a good father, and he was slightly afraid you would run if given the chance. He even stopped working just to spend more time with you. The only reason he was away for days and didn't take you with him was because of something with the Titans and some guy called Deathstroke. You didn't really care to pay attention to anything he said as long as it didn't involve your life or the world’s safety. 

“You're an asshole, get out of here!” 

Jason smirked. 

“Can’t. Just put a bun in the oven for (Y/N).” He shrugged.

“WHAT?” You and Dick exclaimed at the same time.

“I’m baking some bread, relax…” 

“I need some help…” You were in a clothes store with your husband and his brothers, trying to find a dress for an upcoming gala that you didn't want to go, especially since your body changed during pregnancy, and your previous size isn't fitting the way you wanted to anymore. It’s especially annoying that Dick has to give you permission or order you to wear something, regardless of your opinion.

Before Dick could hand the newborn over to her uncle and get up to help you zip the back of your dress, Tim shot up from his seat.

��I’ll do it.”

Tim stood behind you and clasped the zipper between his fingers, before pulling it up. It went smoothly, until it reached your upper back and it wouldn't go up anymore. You felt embarrassment sink in the bottom of your heart, and before Tim could say something, you turned around.

“It doesn't fit, I should try something else.” You averted your gaze to the floor.

“Nonsense. You look stunning right now, (Y/N). It's just your…” Tim’s gaze flicked to your chest momentarily, before quickly staring at your eyes again. “... New curves. Let me use both hands and I’m sure it will fit.” He smiled at you, soft, reassuring, and trying to convince you really bad.

You let out a huff of breath from your nose, and begrudgingly turned again. Truth to his words, with his other hand gripping the fabric above the zipper, it went up smoothly again.

You pursed your lips, analyzing yourself in the mirror. It was tight, but not uncomfortable, red, and long, with a high slit showing off your thigh. But the cleavelange was a little too much to what you were used to.

“I don't know…”

“Oh, please…” Tim, still standing behind you, placed both hands on either side of your waist and squeezed. You felt momentary shivers run up your spine, and your face warmed from shyness. “You look beautiful. Really.”

“Timmy, back down. The wife is mine.” I’m not an object! Your mind screamed, while you held back the urge to clench your hands and stomp your feet.

“I’m not doing anything.” He shrugged. “If you’re so insecure, that's a ‘you’ problem.” Tim winked at you from the mirror, with a convinced half-smirk. “What do you think, (N/N)? I think he's just jealous that you and the little one like me more…”

“The baby doesn't like you more. She likes anyone who will give her junk food and new toys. You're not special.” Dick retorted, and Tim squeezed your hips. “Now back down before people think you're a couple.”

“Geez…”

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[pinkpurplesunrises]

Just don’t step on my foot - the short story - Alexia Putellas x Reader

Writer's note: Inspired by Alexia's Instagram photo dump, dancing salsa with her mother.

It started with a text.

Alexia: Is it weird I kinda wanna learn salsa?

You squinted at your phone. This was at 11:47 p.m. on a Tuesday. She followed it immediately with another:

Alexia: Like… like actually learn it. With you. 💃🏽🕺🏽

You: You just compared yourself to a small man emoji.

Alexia: I panicked.

And that was it. A casual comment turned into a real plan. Three weeks later, when her birthday rolled around, you handed her a small red envelope.

"Ten salsa lessons," you said. "Beginner level, so we don't die."

Alexia’s eyes widened. “Wait, really?”

You shrugged. “You said you wanted to. You’re impossible to shop for. And, selfishly, I want to see you in dance shoes.”

She leaned in and kissed you. Soft and sure. “Best gift ever. Also, I’m leading.”

You snorted. “Of course you are.”

The first lesson was an exercise in humility.

Mostly yours.

“I didn’t think there would be this much… counting,” Alexia whispered, wide-eyed, as Marina, your instructor with a suspicious amount of cheer, clapped her hands and shouted, “ONE two THREE… FIVE six SEVEN!”

You were still trying to figure out what happened to four and eight when Alexia spun you effortlessly. Like she’d been waiting her whole life to salsa dance.

Meanwhile, you were trying not to trip over your own feet. Or hers. Or thin air.

“How are you already good at this?” you hissed. Exasperated, after the third turn you flubbed.

Alexia shrugged, smug. “Natural talent. Leadership skills. Strong sense of rhythm.”

“You played football, not Dancing with the Stars.”

“And yet here we are.” She winked. Catching your hand again like a pro. “Try to keep up.”

You wanted to throw a shoe at her. But you were still clinging to the hope that Marina would call a water break before you collapsed in shame.

Each week, it got worse. Or at least, you didn’t get better.

Alexia? She was thriving.

By week four, she was casually humming salsa tunes while brushing her teeth.

By week six, she had moved on to practicing spins in the living room. With a broom.

“Okay,” you snapped one evening as she dipped it, dipped it, with alarming grace, “if you give that broom one more longing stare, I’m going to lose it.”

She laughed, flipping imaginary hair over her shoulder. “What can I say? It follows my lead.”

You flopped onto the couch with a groan. “I hope it steps on your foot.”

“You’re just mad it dances better than you.”

She wasn’t wrong. But you weren’t going to give her that satisfaction.

Not yet.

You almost quit during week seven.

Not dramatically. Not with a speech or storming out of the studio. You just kind of… stopped. Halfway through a basic step, your feet froze, your timing went off and you pulled your hand out of Alexia’s before she could twirl you again.

“I can’t,” you muttered. Turning away. “I seriously can’t.”

Alexia, for once, didn’t make a joke. She stepped back. Giving you space and tilted her head just enough to catch your eye. “Hey,” she said gently, “what’s going on?”

You waved a hand at the mirror-lined wall like it could explain everything.

“I look like a broken marionette. My rhythm sucks. I’m offbeat. My brain can’t process the steps fast enough, and you...” You gestured toward her. “You’re out here channeling Shakira meets ballroom royalty. I’m just trying not to elbow you in the nose.”

Alexia stepped closer. Not touching you yet. Just… being there.

“You’re being hard on yourself,” she said. “It’s not a competition.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve got the hips of a goddess and apparently, salsa blood in your veins.”

That got a laugh. “I absolutely do not. I just… like it.” She looked down. Nudging her foot against yours lightly. “But I didn’t start out good either, you know?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you were born spinning.”

“I’ve been practicing at night,” she admitted sheepishly. “On YouTube. Tutorials. Watching our videos back. Because…” She trailed off and bit her lip.

“Because?”

“Because I wanted to impress you.”

You stared at her. “Are you kidding me?”

She finally took your hand again. Warm and steady. “You’re doing this for me. The least I could do is meet you halfway.”

Something softened in your chest. “I just didn’t want to suck at it,” you said. Quieter now. “I wanted to be good. With you. You’re so confident out there. And I feel like I’m always two beats behind and one misstep away from public humiliation.”

Alexia stepped forward until your foreheads almost touched. “You don’t need to be perfect for me. I didn’t want to learn salsa to become a professional dancer. I wanted to learn it with you.”

Your breath caught a little.

She grinned. “Also, you look very attractive when you’re angry at the music.”

You snorted. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you for dating the broom.”

She laughed. “I broke up with it. We weren’t spinning in the same direction.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. And that night, when Marina cued up the music again, you let yourself have fun with it.

You still missed half the steps. Your turns were slow. And your cross-body lead looked more like a traffic accident. But for the first time, you weren’t focused on being good.

You were focused on her.

Week eight was a revelation.

Somehow, you got it. Not perfectly, but enough. You hit a clean eight-count in time with Alexia. You turned and didn’t trip. You even dipped slightly at the end... and when you looked up at her, wide-eyed, she looked just as surprised as you did.

“You did it!” she gasped. “You didn’t maim me!”

“I know!” you shouted. Arms flailing with joy. “We didn’t look like baby giraffes learning to walk!”

“Okay, that’s a stretch,” she teased. “But yes. Much less giraffe-y. You even gave me a flourish at the end.”

You paused. “That was not intentional. I tripped on your shoelace and disguised it as style.”

Alexia grinned and kissed your forehead. “Well, your tripping has flair now. I love it.”

By week nine, you had a routine down. A rhythm. She would stretch while you filled your water bottle. You’d both complain about Marina’s obsession with clapping. She’d help you tie your shoelaces because, in her words, “You’re a liability and I like my toes unbroken.”

And somewhere between missed beats and shaky steps, you started to feel it. Not just the music, but yourself in it. She gave you her hand and instead of apologizing for where you placed your feet, you started looking her in the eyes again. Smiling. Moving.

Dancing.

After the last class, the night air was cool and still buzzing with leftover music.

You and Alexia walked home slowly. Fingers intertwined. Your limbs sore but heart full. She couldn’t stop smiling. Her little dimple kept peeking out like it had a mind of its own.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t fall during that last spin,” you said, limping slightly from your most dramatic dip to date.

“You were basically majestic,” Alexia said. Dead serious. “You should’ve had a wind machine behind you.”

You nudged her hip. “Save the dramatic flair for your broom ex.”

She chuckled, then checked her phone. “Okay,” she murmured. “She’s home.”

“Who?”

“My mom.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going now?”

She nodded. “I told her I wanted to stop by. Didn’t say why.”

Her mother answered the door wearing her reading glasses and a mismatched set of pajamas... floral bottoms and a Barça hoodie that had clearly once belonged to Alexia.

“Hola, cariño,” she said. Smiling tiredly. “Everything okay?”

Alexia leaned in and kissed her on both cheeks. “I have a surprise.”

Her mom immediately narrowed her eyes. “Is it a dog? Because you’re still technically not allowed to surprise me with living things after that duck situation.”

Alexia laughed. “It’s not a dog... or duck.”

Her mother tilted her head. “What is it then?”

Alexia reached out her hand. Palm up.

“Dance with me.”

“… Excuse me?”

“Salsa,” she said. Grinning wide now. “I want to salsa with you.”

Her mom blinked. “Are you having a fever?”

“No. I’ve been taking lessons.”

Her mother stared at her for a full ten seconds. Mouth slightly open. “Since when do you dance?”

Alexia turned toward you. Who was standing behind her with your arms folded and the smuggest smile on your face.

“Since she gave it to me for my birthday.”

Her mom’s eyes darted between the two of you. “You’re serious?”

Alexia pulled her phone out. Thumbed through a few videos, and handed it over. You watched as her mother squinted, hit play, and then… went quiet.

It was your freestyle. Shaky camera work. A bit blurry but full of movement and laughter and something real.

When it ended, her mother looked up. Blinking fast.

“Tu padre would’ve loved that,” she said softly. “He used to say, ‘Dancing isn’t about the steps... it’s about who you’re holding.’”

Alexia took her hand again. A little firmer this time. “So come on. Let me hold you.”

Her mom let out a laugh. Half disbelieving. Half tearful. And shook her head. “I’m going to need to change first. If I’m doing this, I’m not dancing in duck pajamas.”

Alexia turned to you, face glowing. “She said yes.”

You smiled. “Told you. No one can resist your strong leadership energy.”

She kissed your cheek and whispered, “I learned from the best.”

They danced in the small living room. Alexia leading. Her mother laughing. Both occasionally forgetting the steps but remembering to smile through every one.

You watched from the couch. A quiet spectator to something bigger than music.

Grief. Joy. And love tangled between their hands like an invisible rhythm. Steady and healing.

At the end, her mom pulled her into a hug and whispered something only Alexia could hear. You saw her eyes close. Saw her swallow hard. Then she nodded.

Later... as you both slipped out and walked home under the city’s sleepy sky... she turned to you and said, “Thank you. For the gift.”

You bumped her shoulder. “I didn’t give you salsa. I just gave you lessons.”

She looked at you. Eyes soft. “Yeah. But I got so much more.”

Then she reached for your hand again. And this time, she didn’t need to lead. You both just walked. Quietly in step.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Writer's note: writing inspiration is drained. Not sure what to write next but I guess inspiration will come back soon

[cyber333angel]

rafe and barry putting it in at the same time..

the both of them had been using you a little too much this week it was completely distracting. it was either, rafe calling you into the kitchen and fucking you on the counter because he got some bad news about a deal or barry pounding up into you on his motorcycle because someone pissed him off. you had things to do but their begging got the best of you every time, “c’mon sweetheart, you want daddy to feel better don’t you?” you would comply because of course you’d want your boys to be happy. however you were getting exhausted, so you suggested that to save time the three of you would only have sex together. a big mistake, given they had been fingering you for about 15 minutes to prep you for the intense spread you were about to experience. you quivered under them, “s’enough now daddy! please just put it inn..!” whining, they look up at each other. “think she ready country club?” barry says and rafe shrugs his shoulders, “since she thinks she’s such a big girl..let’s give what she wants right?”

barry has you hovering over his lap, his dick in his hand prodding at your ass. “im bout to put it in alright angel?” you nod furiously and he plunges his cock into your hole. gasping at the stretch you cry out a guttural moan. “hngh..! w-wait bear.. it’s really big! s’too much..” you whimper at him and he tightens the grip on your waist. “your alright mama..doing so good for us already.” he adjusts your position until your cunt is exposed to rafe, tugging at his dick, he moves closer to you. spitting out a glob of salvia and letting it slide into your pussy. rafe grips his cock and thrusts it into your other hole making you wince. “there you go.. taking this dick like a good fucking girl.” rafe puts one hand on your waist and the other on your lower stomach letting his thumb rub your sensitive clit slowly. barry mumbles,“so fuckin tight for daddy shit..” the overwhelming stretch in both your cunt and your ass has you crying, “slo-slow down! can’t take anymore daddyy!” they both chuckle at you, “this was your idea sweet girl, why you keep trying to run?” rafe says, smirking down at you. your sandwiched between the two of them with your hands pushing at rafes lower stomach. feeling incredibly full at the slow, in and out thrusting at both ends, feeling a quiver in your stomach. “mm think m’gon-gonna cum!” shaking and squirming under them, “yeah? go head and cum on this dick mama, just like that..” barry tells you. rafe continues to thrust fast into you and rubs your clit, helping you cum. twitching around both of their lengths as you cream on rafes dick, he pulls out of you making you shiver from the loss. barry flips you over, putting a hand on your back and slowly slips his cock put your wet hole. with half lidded eyes you sit on your knees as your two boyfriends stand infront of you. helping the both of them cum by sucking them off. “fuck pretty girl.. took us so good.” you feel a bit sleepy from the intense “exercise”and realize it might be better for them to use you on separate occasions.

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Three-Hour Workout Wonders

↳ Masterlist

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing:  Franco Colapito x Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none✯

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Her strict parents had started to grow suspicious of her gym visits. Every time, she would leave the house and return about three hours later. Strength training, treadmill sessions—whatever she was supposedly doing, three hours seemed excessive. She was eighteen, but her parents still kept a tight grip on her life, a frustrating consequence of choosing not to study abroad and remaining under their roof.

With her gym tote slung over her left shoulder, she headed out the door, an excited, almost giddy smile lighting up her face.

“Going to the gym?” her dad called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” she replied, her hand already on the door handle.

“When will you be back?” he asked, his tone casual but with an edge of curiosity.

She shrugged. “Maybe in an hour or so.”

His raised eyebrow was all the accusation he needed. “Really? Because lately, it’s been more like three,” he said, his tone growing more suspicious.

“I don’t know,” she shot back, defensive. “Depends on how busy it is, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” he said, backing off.

As she stepped outside, her smile returned, brighter this time, relief washing over her now that he hadn’t pressed further. The grin didn’t fade the entire walk to the gym, and adrenaline coursed through her veins as she approached the building.

Her workout began like any other Friday routine: lower-body exercises followed by some incline walking on the treadmill—nothing too intense. But her eyes darted to her watch every few minutes, not because she was tired, but because she was waiting.

Two hours later, he appeared. Franco.

Their eyes met across the gym, a fleeting but meaningful. Without hesitation, she pressed the stop button on the treadmill and stepped off, heading discreetly toward the restrooms. A few minutes later, Franco followed, careful not to attract unwanted attention.

His lips met hers in a hungry kiss, his hands resting on her hips, pulling her impossibly close. She wrapped her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened.

“Why don’t we go to my place?” he murmured.

“My parents have my location,” she managed between breaths.

Franco’s hands skimmed up her sides, warm and steady, before settling just beneath her ribs. His lips found her jaw first—soft, slow kisses trailing down to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. She shivered, her fingers curling against his shoulders.

“Also, I don’t have much time,” she whispered. “My parents are starting to get suspicious.”

“You’re making this really difficult,” he muttered, his voice low and rough against her skin.

She swallowed hard, tilting her head to give him more access. “Difficult how?”

He exhaled, his breath warm as his mouth moved lower, pressing a kiss just above her collarbone. “Difficult to let you walk out of here like nothing happened.”

Her heart pounded against her ribs, her fingers slipping into his curls and tugging lightly. He groaned softly at the feeling, his grip on her tightening.

“Then don’t,” she whispered.

Franco huffed a quiet laugh, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes were dark, focused, hungry. “You know you don’t have a choice.”

She did. And yet, the thought of stepping away from him, of returning home like she hadn’t just had his hands all over her, sent a sharp pang through her chest.

So she kissed him again—slow, deep, lingering. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her flush against him, and he backed her gently against the wall, his lips never leaving hers.

He kissed her like he was making up for all the time they didn’t have. Like he could stretch these stolen minutes into something bigger, something permanent.

Her back hit the cool tile, a contrast to the heat of his body pressed against hers. He tilted her chin up, lips tracing the line of her throat, and she bit down on her lower lip, her breath hitching.

“Franco,” she murmured, almost like a warning—but not really.

His teeth grazed her skin before he soothed the spot with another kiss, his grip tightening on her hips. “I know,” he muttered. “You have to go.”

She nodded, though neither of them moved.

He sighed against her skin, then pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his fingers ghosting over the hem of her t-shirt. “This is torture.”

She smiled softly, brushing her lips over his. “A little.”

His eyes flicked down to her lips, then back up. “I hate it.”

“I know.”

Franco sighed again, but this time, his hands slid down, giving her waist one last squeeze before finally—reluctantly—stepping back.

“Text me when you get home,” he muttered.

She nodded, trying not to let the disappointment settle in her chest. “I will.”

He watched her for another moment, as if memorizing her, then smirked slightly. “And next time—”

“What?” she asked, arching a brow.

His grin widened, wicked and knowing. “Wear something I can take off.”

Heat flooded her cheeks, but she rolled her eyes, shoving him lightly before grabbing her tote.

“You’re impossible.”

He caught her wrist before she could fully step away, tugging her in for one last, searing kiss. When he finally let her go, his voice was softer, more serious.

“But I really like you.”

Her heart swelled, and she smiled, squeezing his hand. “I really like you too.”

And then, before she could convince herself to stay, she slipped out the door.

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✯ authors note: English is not my first language, and I hope you liked it <3

[fxrmuladaydreams]

missing oscar (ls2 + op81)

switch!logan x sub!reader x dom!oscar (poly relationship)

request: Phone/Facetime sex with Logan and Oscar- I have two different ideas for this so you can choose which you like best: you’re with one of them in person and decide to phone the other and give them a show- or the boy you’re not with in person phones to tell you what to do with the other, he’s guiding you through everything as he watches and pretends it’s him you’re touching

wc: 1760

notes: alrighty, this was originally a request for logan weekend (yes all the way back in december) but i had saved the request with the intent of making it a full one shot, and months later i have, so i hope you enjoy. i also deviated a bit from the request, i’m sorry 😅

warnings: !! INCLUDES SMUT, MINORS DNI !! phone sex, dom/sub dynamics, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, brief videochat sex, talk of punishment

punishments (the sequel)

It was expected for the Australian Grand Prix to be a big deal for Oscar. It was his home race. Of course his face was plastered on billboards for weeks leading up to the race. But none of you had expected it to be this big.

He’d gone back to Australia early, to take some time to spend with his family, while also working on some of the other promotional stuff for the race. He was modeling for the Australian Esquire digital cover for March, and he had somehow ended up recording messages for the train up to Albert Park? It was all a bit much for the poor Australian driver.

You’d opted to stay with Logan, the two of you choosing to meet your boyfriend in Australia closer to the race, giving him time to settle in. Though you loved having one boyfriend with you, it was impossible to hide the fact that you missed the other, and frankly so did Logan. You both longed to have Oscar back with you, and cursed the fact that he’d had to go early.

You spent Logan’s brief time off in the US, visiting his family. You loved being able to see him open up more in his home, seeing him let the stress from his job roll off his shoulders while he let himself relax.

You spent the days with his family, accompanying them on different outings, sailing on their boat, dining at all their favorite restaurants. You went with Logan to the gym, he insisted he needed to keep his exercise routine up, and frankly you enjoyed admiring him as he worked out.

The evenings were spent cuddled up together in a hotel room. You’d asked him if he’d rather stay with his family, but he simply grinned and shook his head.

“If we’re with my family we wouldn’t be able to have our own fun.” He winks.

You lay on the bed together, letting the television play some show neither of you are really paying attention to. His hands trail up and down your back as yours draw random patterns on his chest. You glance up at him to see he’s already looking down at you. You laugh softly when his cheeks flame up and he moves his gaze back to the television.

You tilt his chin so that he’s looking back down at you.

“What are you thinking about Lo?” You ask.

He shrugs. “How lucky I am to have you. Both of you.”

You give him a soft smile and move up to kiss him. It starts off soft and sweet, as per usual with Logan. His hands rest on your hips, squeezing slightly when you straddle him. As the minutes tick by, the kisses grow in intensity, what was soft pecks has turned into a full on make out session. You tangle your hands in the blonde hair at the back of his head, grinding against his lap. He groans into your mouth, keeping a firm grip on your body against his.

“I need you Logan.” You moan against his lips. You let your hands travel down the expanse of his bare chest. You whine, pulling away from him. “I need both of you.” You pout.

“Let's give Os a call then, huh? It should be the morning for him.” Logan suggests, reaching for his phone.

You roll off of him, laying by his side as Logan finds Oscar’s contact. He quickly calls Oscar, holding the phone to his ear, waiting for an answer.

“Hey Os, how are you doing?” Logan asks. There’s silence for a minute, then Logan speaks again. “Yeah, we miss you too.”

You smile and reach out for Logan’s phone. He leans away from you, standing up and walking to the foot of the bed.

“In fact, we really miss you. Someone’s getting needy without you.” He teases as he smirks at the small pout that graces your features.

“I wanna talk to him Lo.” You tell him.

Logan places the phone between his ear and his shoulder and reaches down to grab your ankles. He pulls you down to the end of the bed, causing a squeal to escape from your mouth.

There’s another few moments of silence on Logan’s end as his hands wander up your legs, pushing the shirt, Oscar’s shirt, you’re wearing up to reveal your panties.

Oscar had always been the more dominant of the three of you in your relationship, with Logan falling into the switch category, and you the sub. You knew Oscar had to be unhappy with what Logan was about to do. Sure he was okay with the two of you having sex while he was away, he’d told you that himself, but to be made to listen as Logan got the both of you off while he was on an entirely different continent? There was no way this was going to end well for the two of you.

All thoughts of stopping this melt away when you feel Logan’s fingers prod at you through your panties, brushing against the damp patch that’s started to form.

“She’s so wet Os.” Logan says into the phone, talking as if you’re not even there. “Wish you were here to feel her?” He laughs into the phone. “Here, I’ll let her tell you how needy she is.” He pulls the phone from his ear, and presses the speaker button before setting it down on the bed next to you.

“Tell Oscar how much you need him.” Logan instructs you as he slowly pulls your panties down.

“Y/n. Behave.” Oscar says firmly through the phone.

“I- I don’t- oh!” You yelp when you feel Logan’s tongue against you. A hand quickly falls to tangle itself in his hair. He continues licking at your folds, occasionally letting his nose brush against your clit. His eyes are full of mischief as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

“Feel’s so good Lo…” you whine, lifting your hips up to meet his mouth.

“What’s he doing to you Y/n?” Oscar asks. You know he knows, he has to. He’s spent countless nights with you leaning against his chest, his hands holding your legs open as Logan devours you like his last meal.

“He’s- he’s eating me out.” You moan softly.

“Tell Oscar how good it feels baby.” Logan says before taking your clit in his mouth.

“It feels so good Os, so good.” You grind against his face. “I wish you were here Os, I wish you could play with us.”

“Y/n, you’re not being a very good girl.” Oscar practically groans.

You can picture him in your mind, his boxers pushed down just far enough to free his cock from them, his hand stroking himself slowly.

“You’d better not cum for him.”

Oscar’s warning strikes something in the both of you. For you it’s the want to please Oscar, to keep him happy, to be his good girl. For Logan it’s a challenge, the need to see if he can make you fall apart for him while you’re being told not to bubbles up inside him.

Logan’s tongue makes quick work of you, slipping into you as his arms lock themselves around your legs, using his strength to male sure you can’t pull away.

“Logan! Logan!” You tug harshly at his hair, but to no avail.

He rolls his eyes back as you pull at his hair, as if you’re just encouraging him to keep going.

“Logan, you’re not going to like what happens when I see the two of you again.” Oscar says, his voice breathy.

He pulls himself away from you to stand up and look down at you. “Maybe. But why not have some fun while you’re away, huh Y/n?” Logan grins down at you.

He tugs his sweatpants and boxers down, kicking them away. He wraps a hand around his cock and pumps himself a few times. “If you want me to stop we will. I won’t do something you don’t want me to.” Logan tells you. You know he’s being sincere, that your sweet boy would never want to do anything to upset you, but you don’t miss the glint in his eyes that returns. “Or, tell me you want it. Tell Oscar you want it. That you need it and that you don’t care what he says.” He slowly pulls you down the bed even further. He lifts your legs so that your ankles rest on his shoulders. He softly taps against your clit with the head of his cock. “So tell us what you want, baby.” Logan coos down at you.

“I want…”

“Be a good girl Y/n.” Oscar reminds you.

You look up at Logan, a smirk on his face.

“I want you Lo, I need you.” You tell him.

He’s quick to push himself inside you, making you gasp as you take his deep thrusts. The stretch is intense, it usually was with both men, but the clear desperation in both you and Logan sent you both into a foggy haze, filled only with the desire to be as close to the other as possible.

“Logan!” You moan out, your head rolling back against the pillows.

“No, I want you to moan for him.” Logan grunts. “Moan for Oscar.”

You yelp when you feel him hit deep inside you, repeatedly hitting your g-spot.

“Oscar, Os, fuck! It feels so good!” You moan as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. “I need to cum Oscar. I have to cum.” You tell him.

“Don’t cum for him Y/n.” Oscar’s warning is drowned out by a cry from your throat, quickly followed by a series of deep groans from Logan. He slowly pulls himself out of you, sighing at the feeling. He drops one of your legs from his shoulder and reaches out for his phone.

“Let’s show Oscar what a mess you are baby.” Logan says. He switches the call to FaceTime and holds the phone in front of your pussy, giving the camera a view of his and your cum dripping out of you. He then pans the camera up to your face. You’re still trying to catch your breath as your eyes slowly blink at the camera.

“Apologize to Oscar baby.” Logan tells you.

“I’m sorry Oscar.” You whimper. “I’m sorry I was a bad girl.”

“You’re both in for it when you get here.” Oscar says, already planning out your punishments.

“We can’t wait.” Logan grins, ending the call.

[st4rgirllv]

Hiii!! I really really love you kaiju no 8 fics esp the soshiro ones 🥹 i’d like to request where reader has a long one-sided crush to vice captain hoshina and even some 3rd division members are silently helping to improve their relationship, but little did they know the vice captain hoshina actually likes her back. You can change them to your liking & i hope you dont mind this request! Have a good day!!🥹

Magnets

Vice Captain!Hoshina x Platoon Leader!Reader | Mutual Pining, Quiet Matchmaking, Soft Slow Burn

You’ve liked your vice-captain for a while now.

But it’s not the kind of crush that derails your focus. You’re a platoon leader in the 3rd Division—you don’t have the luxury of spacing out every time Vice Captain Hoshina walks by.

Still.

It’s hard not to watch him during training exercises. Not to notice the way he handles a sword like he was born with it. Or how his tone gets low and steady when giving orders—not sharp like some higher-ups. He commands respect without ever needing to raise his voice.

And he always notices when you’re tired.

“You eat yet?” he’d ask, glancing over at you during break.

“I’m fine, sir,” you bow to him as a respect.

“Didn’t ask if you were fine. I asked if you ate.”

Always like that. Simple. Undemanding. But careful in the ways that matter.

You never told anyone about your crush b you weren’t exactly subtle, but you didn’t think anyone noticed either.

Until Ichikawa started conveniently leaving the mess hall seat beside him open every time you came in.

Until Okonogi started giving you cross-training assignments that lined up perfectly with Hoshina’s rounds.

Until Kikoru gave you a once-over one day and said, flatly, “He’s not gonna make the first move. You’ll probably have to.”

You nearly choked on your energy drink. “What..?”

“Oh, come on. You're not exactly slick,” the blonde teased you, bumping her shoulder nex tto yours.

“Is that a way to talk to your superior officer?” you glared, earning you a shake of the head.

But here’s the twist: you’re not the only one struggling.

Hoshina’s liked you too.

Respected you first, of course—he always does. You run your unit tight, clean, no wasted motion. But he’s seen you after long missions, half-asleep over supply reports, and he’s started thinking about your laugh more than he probably should.

He’s just... careful. He won’t cross boundaries unless you drop them first.

Even when he walks you back to the barracks after a late night in the control room, all he says is:

“Get some rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

But the way he says it?

So soft you carry it all the way to bed.

One night, you're both late coming back from patrol. You're sitting on the back steps of the main hall, sharing vending machine snacks in silence.

The sky’s low and gray. Your arms hurt. His jacket’s slung over your shoulders.

“Y'know,” he says, casually, “folks’ve been tellin’ me I should ask you out.”

You freeze, mid-bite. “...What?”

He looks sideways, eyes warm. “They think we’d get along. Work well together, ya know? Not business wise.”

You try to play it cool. “Uh, what—uhm and what do you think?” you cringe at the way you stuttered.

Can't help it.

He pauses, chewing thoughtfully.

Then shrugs. “I think I’d say yes. If you asked first.”

You blink. He’s not teasing.

And just like that, you feel the ache in your chest finally ease.

“So… you free next weekend vice-captain?”

“Long as we ain’t fightin’ Kaiju, yeah. I’m yours.”

[mistyshane30]

You Were Never Mine to Lose (Chapter 13)

Synopsis: You wake from a short nap, but the day has already shifted—conversations tense, glances lingering, something unspoken hanging in the air. As night falls, ghost stories and laughter blur into something else, something quieter, something charged.

Word count: 6.6K

Warnings: Sexual tension, Mild language

A/N: My sincere apologies for the delay in updates. My studies as a maritime student, including recent training exercises, have unfortunately limited my writing time. Thank you for your understanding and continued support♡

You wake to the sound of soft rustling and the smell of food.

 Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you see is Agatha crouched next to you, holding a plate.

"For you," she says simply.

 You blink, still groggy, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. "How long was I out?"

 "Thirty minutes, give or take." She shrugs. "You looked dead to the world."

 You rub the sleep from your eyes, staring at the plate. It’s rice and some beef strips. Simple, but warm.

 "You—" You clear your throat. "You brought this for me?"

 Agatha smirks, setting the plate down beside you. "You did tell me to wake you when lunch was ready."

 You hadn’t expected her to actually bring you food, though.

 There’s a flicker of something soft in your chest.

 But Agatha is already turning away, crawling toward the tent entrance. "Come on. Eat with the rest of us."

 You glance down at the plate, then back at her.

 For a second, you consider just eating inside the tent, away from everyone, away from the possibility of Wanda staring at you again.

 But Agatha pauses at the tent’s entrance, looking over her shoulder. She raises an eyebrow.

 "What?" you mumble.

 She tilts her head, amused. "Don’t tell me you’re hiding."

 Your face heats up. "I’m not hiding."

 Agatha hums, not believing a word of it.

 Then, before she exits, she adds, "Better hurry before I eat your food instead."

 And just like that, she’s gone.

 You groan, running a hand down your face.

 She’s insufferable.

 You crawl toward the entrance, preparing yourself for whatever chaos awaits outside.

 The moment you step out of the tent, Alice calls you out immediately.

 “There you are! We thought you were gonna sleep through lunch.”

 You barely have time to react before your eyes land on Wanda.

 She’s looking at you—but she’s also looking at Agatha.

 Your stomach clenches.

 "Are you feeling better?" Wanda asks, her brows knitting together in concern.

 Well, of course you are. It’s a hickey, not a damn injury.

 But they don’t know that.

 You clear your throat, nodding quickly. "Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just needed a quick nap."

 You step forward, grabbing your plate—the one still in Agatha’s hand.

 She doesn’t say anything as she hands it over, but there’s a look on her face.

 Alice raises an eyebrow.

 “Wow, Agatha, serving Y/N food?” she teases, grinning. “Since when?”

 You nearly choke on air.

 “I—She didn’t—” You fumble for a response, but Agatha beats you to it.

 “She was practically dead to the world.” Agatha shrugs, completely unfazed. “Figured I’d do a good deed.”

 Jen snorts. “That’s a first.”

 Lilia leans in, amused. “What’s next, Agatha? Carrying Y/N’s backpack?”

 Agatha smirks, eyes flicking to you. “I mean, if she asks nicely.”

 Your face burns.

 You’re about to snap back—say something, anything—but then you feel a hand on your arm.

 It’s Wanda.

 You glance at her, and she gives you a look. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

 Oh, shit.

 You force a nod, letting her pull you aside while the others go back to eating.

 Once you’re out of earshot, Wanda folds her arms.

 “So…” she starts, tilting her head. “You sure you’re feeling better?”

 You gulp. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 She stares at you for a long moment, then exhales.

 “Look,” she says, softer this time. “I know you don’t wanna make a big deal out of it, but… if something’s going on, you can tell me, okay?”

 Your heart skips.

 Shit.

 Does she know?

 You force a smile. “Nothing’s going on.”

 Wanda watches you carefully. Then, finally, she sighs.

 “Okay,” she says, though she doesn’t sound convinced.

 Before you can dwell on it, Alice calls out, “Hey, are you two coming back?”

 You immediately turn away, heading back toward the group. “Coming!”

 You take a seat next to Wanda on one of the logs, the warmth of the fire licking at your skin despite the afternoon heat. Across from you, Agatha settles down next to Jen, her posture relaxed, legs stretched out in front of her like she doesn’t have a single care in the world. Alice and Lilia share the last log, already picking at their food as they talk about something you’re not paying attention to.

 You blink, glancing up just in time to see Agatha standing up, making her way over to you. She hands you the can of soda, then, just as smoothly, returns to her seat across the fire, smirking.

You didn’t even ask for one.

She just knew.

You hesitate for a moment before cracking it open, taking a sip, and looking away before anyone notices the warmth creeping up your neck.

Well. Before most your friends notice.

Wanda is staring.

 She’s watching Agatha, then you, then Agatha again.

 Then, suddenly, she clears her throat. “So, about that bite.”

 You freeze mid-sip.

 Agatha raises an eyebrow. “What about it?”

 Wanda tilts her head slightly, eyes narrowing just a little. “You were with Y/N when it happened, right?”

 Agatha leans back, unbothered. “She was with me, yeah.”

 Wanda’s fingers tap against her knee. “And you didn’t see it?”

 The air shifts slightly.

 Agatha shrugs. “Guess I was looking the other way.”

 Wanda doesn’t look convinced. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

 You clear your throat, trying to cut in. “It happened fast, Wanda. It’s not a big deal—”

 “It’s just—” Wanda exhales sharply, shaking her head. “You’re usually more aware of things, Agatha.”

 Agatha just tilts her head. “Well, guess I slipped up.”

 There’s a flicker of something in Wanda’s eyes. She’s still staring at Agatha like she’s trying to piece something together.

 You grip your can tighter, resisting the urge to press your hand over the band-aid again.

 Alice, sensing the tension, jumps in. “Well, let’s just be glad it wasn’t worse, right?”

 Lilia hums in agreement. “Yeah. Could’ve been a snake.”

 Great. Now you have to worry about that too.

 Wanda pushes further, ignoring Alice and Lilia’s attempts to steer the conversation elsewhere. "It could've been worse, you know. What if it had been something venomous? What if it got infected?"

 She crosses her arms, gaze flicking between you and Agatha. "And earlier, Agatha, you were laughing like it was funny. What’s so funny about Y/N getting bitten?"

 Agatha smirks, lips twitching as she fights back another chuckle. "Nothing. Just—" She waves a hand vaguely. "It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be."

 Wanda scoffs, not letting up. "You sure about that?"

Before Agatha can reply, Jen suddenly cuts in. "Alright, alright," she says, loud enough to break the tension. "Let’s talk about something else. What’s the plan after lunch? Maybe we should explore the area a bit?"

The group agrees, though Wanda is still watching Agatha with narrowed eyes. Eventually, she exhales sharply and shrugs it off, but you can tell she’s still irritated. Agatha, as expected, doesn’t seem to care.

After lunch, the group decides to explore the surrounding area. The air is crisp, the trees providing shade as you all navigate through the trails. It’s peaceful—until Agatha falls into step beside you.

“You’re walking kinda slow,” she comments, smirking. “Getting old?”

You roll your eyes. “Or maybe I’m just enjoying the view.”

Agatha raises a brow, glancing around dramatically. “Oh yeah, breathtaking trees. Real once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

You shove her lightly with your elbow. “I meant the scenery.”

She snorts. “Sure you did.”

Behind you, Wanda is keeping a close eye on the both of you. You can feel her gaze burning into the back of your head, and every now and then, when you steal a glance, she doesn’t even try to hide it.

At some point, the group stumbles upon a really scenic spot—overlooking the valley, the trees opening up just enough to give a perfect view of the horizon. Jen immediately pulls out her phone. “Okay, group photo. Everyone get in.”

You shuffle into place, Wanda beside you, and Agatha on your other side. Just as Jen is setting up the shot, Agatha reaches out, flicking a stray leaf out of your hair without a second thought.

You freeze.

Your eyes meet hers, and for a second, everything around you fades. The warmth of her fingers lingers near your temple, the touch barely there, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Then—

Wanda clears her throat.

Loudly.

The moment shatters. Agatha pulls her hand back, smirking like nothing happened. You force yourself to look straight ahead, pretending your face isn’t suddenly burning. The camera clicks, and just like that, the moment is over.

The rest of the afternoon passes with the group continuing to explore, snapping photos, and taking in the scenery. Every so often, you catch Agatha looking at you, and each time, when your eyes meet, she just smirks. It’s infuriating. It’s distracting. And yet, you can’t stop yourself from glancing at her, too.

Eventually, as the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, the group makes their way back to camp. As you settle in, Lilia glances around and announces, “We need more firewood.”

You straighten, about to volunteer, when Wanda nudges you sharply. When you glance at her, she’s already shaking her head, giving you a look that clearly says, Don’t.

Before you can argue, Agatha stretches lazily and says, “I’ll go.”

“I’ll go too,” Wanda adds immediately, tone firm.

Your stomach twists.

Agatha lifts an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Afraid I’ll get lost?”

Wanda just crosses her arms. “Just making sure we get enough firewood.”

They hold eye contact for a bit too long before Agatha chuckles under her breath and starts walking. Wanda follows, glancing at you one last time before disappearing into the trees with her.

You exhale, slumping slightly as the rest of the group starts chatting again. A small pit of unease settles in your stomach, knowing Wanda isn’t the type to just let things go—especially when it comes to you.

After some time, Agatha returns with some firewood, but Wanda isn’t with her.

When Jen asks, Agatha just shrugs. "She’s still out there."

You frown. "Alone?"

Agatha glances at you, tossing a log onto the pile. "She insisted."

Without another word, you turn and head into the woods, calling out for Wanda. The sun is starting to dip, casting golden light through the trees. After a few moments, you find her silently gathering wood, methodically picking up sticks and branches as if she’s trying to focus on anything but whatever’s on her mind.

"Wanda," you call again, stepping closer. She glances at you briefly but doesn’t say anything, just bends down to pick up another branch.

You sigh. "Why did you let Agatha leave you out here alone?"

She shrugs. "I didn’t let her do anything. She just left."

You press your lips together, watching her work. "Wanda, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird."

She lets out a sharp breath and straightens up, turning to you. "You tell me."

Your stomach twists. "What do you mean?"

Wanda crosses her arms, her gaze sharp. "That 'bug bite,' Y/N. Neither of us saw it happen. Agatha didn’t see it happen. But she thought it was funny—she was laughing earlier when we found out. Why?"

You freeze for a second before quickly composing yourself. "It’s not that deep, Wanda. We’re in the woods, bugs are everywhere. It’s not a big deal."

She squints at you, unconvinced. "It’s just... Agatha’s been weird with you. Clingy. She wasn’t like this before. And now she’s always near you, touching you, looking at you like—" Wanda exhales sharply, rubbing her temples. "I don’t know, Y/N. It just feels off. Like something’s changed, and I don’t get why. I just don’t want you getting hurt, okay?"

You hesitate. Your best friend is worried. And she has every reason to be, given how complicated things have been with Agatha. You want to tell her—you should tell her—but now doesn’t feel like the right time.

So instead, you shake your head and offer a small smile. "I get it, Wanda. I do. But you don’t need to worry about me. I can handle Agatha."

She studies you for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. "I don’t know if I believe that."

You nudge her shoulder. "Trust me."

She exhales, then reluctantly smiles. "Fine. But if she messes with you, I will fight her."

You chuckle. "Noted."

The two of you walk back to camp, the tension easing slightly. As you step into the clearing, your eyes immediately land on Agatha. She’s sitting on one of the logs with Alice, casually chatting. Then she looks up and meets your gaze.

Your breath catches for half a second before you manage a small smile and quickly look away, following Wanda back to the group.

The afternoon stretches on as the scent of sizzling food fills the air. You’re standing by the fire, stirring a pan of stir-fried mushrooms and bell peppers, the wooden spoon warm in your grip. Wanda, Lilia and Jen are chatting nearby while Alice turns marinated chicken on the grill with practiced ease.

A voice behind you makes you pause. "What’s this supposed to be?"

You glance over your shoulder. It’s Agatha, peering into your pan with an amused smirk.

"Stir-fry," you say. "Want to try?"

She picks up a piece with her fingers before you can even grab a fork and pops it into her mouth. She chews, then makes a face. "Needs more flavor."

You blink. "Seriously?"

A second later, she grins. "Nah. I’m just messing with you. It’s good."

You huff, shaking your head. "You’re impossible."

She leans in slightly, voice just for you. "And yet, you like it."

Your breath catches for a half-second, but before you can respond, she winks and walks away. Not before glancing back with a teasing smile, though.

By the time dinner is ready, everyone is starving. Plates are passed around, laughter and conversation flowing easily. You sit beside Agatha this time, knees brushing, arms occasionally bumping. It’s casual, natural—except for the way Wanda, sitting on the log across from you, keeps glancing over. Her expression is unreadable, but you can feel her eyes on you both.

After dinner, Lilia claps her hands together. "Okay, so... horror stories. Who’s in?"

"Absolutely not," Alice groans. "I hate scary stories."

"Which is exactly why you need to hear them!" Jen grins. "Come on, it’s a camping tradition."

Alice groans again but stays put, resigned to her fate.

Everyone takes turns sharing stories. Lilia starts with a classic—something about a woman in white wandering the roads at night, her ghostly figure appearing in car mirrors before vanishing. Wanda follows with a chilling ghost encounter from her childhood, describing the eerie whispers she once heard in her grandmother’s old house. Jen’s is dramatic and animated, her gestures exaggerated as she recounts a tale about an abandoned cabin deep in the woods, making Alice grip her own arms and mutter, "Why did I agree to this?"

Then it’s your turn. You recall a story you heard years ago—one about a cursed path in the woods, where travelers who stray from the trail hear footsteps behind them, but when they turn around, no one is there. Some say the footsteps get faster the more you ignore them, until they’re right behind you, breath on your neck, a shadow stretching too close. And if you run? That’s when they reach for you.

As you speak, the fire crackles, casting shadows that dance against the trees. The wind rustles the leaves, making them sound almost like whispers. A twig snaps somewhere in the darkness, and Alice jumps, clutching Lilia’s arm. "Nope. Nope, I hate this."

Jen leans in, intrigued. "What happens if they catch you?"

You hesitate for effect, letting the silence stretch. "No one knows," you say finally, voice barely above a whisper. "Because no one who’s been caught has ever come back."

The group shivers collectively, drawn into your words. Even Agatha, who had been smirking through most of the stories, watches you with quiet intrigue, her expression unreadable.

And then there’s Agatha.

Her voice dips low, deliberate, weaving an eerie tale that seems to creep into the very air around you. "There was a girl," she begins, her tone almost hypnotic. "She went missing in the woods, not far from here. Search parties looked for weeks. They never found her." The fire crackles, casting long, twisting shadows.

"Some say she never really left," Agatha continues, her gaze flickering to the darkness beyond. "They say if you listen closely, you can hear her crying at night—begging for someone to find her. But if you answer? She takes your voice. Steals it. And then... she’s not the one crying anymore."

The fire flickers, and suddenly, a gust of wind rustles the trees. The woods seem darker, the silence stretching uncomfortably. A branch snaps somewhere unseen, and Alice lets out a startled yelp. Your pulse jumps.

You don’t realize you’re leaning in until Agatha meets your gaze and smirks, knowing exactly what she’s doing. Her eyes glint with amusement, but there’s something else there too—something unreadable. The moment lingers, heavy, before she suddenly claps her hands sharply.

You flinch. "What the hell!"

She laughs, clearly enjoying herself. "Gotcha."

"I hate you," you mutter, but there’s no heat behind it.

She leans in just slightly, voice near your ear. "Liar."

Before you can respond, Alice jumps up. "No. Enough. We need to shake this creepy feeling off. Play some music or something!"

Jen pulls out her phone, scrolling through her playlist. A lively song starts playing, breaking the tension, and soon enough, everyone is swaying, moving to the beat. Lilia and Jen dance dramatically, spinning each other, and even Wanda bobs her head slightly, a small smile breaking through.

Then the music shifts. A slower song comes on, soft and warm against the cool night air.

Your friends pair off playfully, and before you can react, Agatha grabs your wrist. "C’mon," she says, pulling you up.

 You roll your eyes but let her guide you. "You just want another excuse to mess with me."

 She spins you once, teasingly, before settling close, hands resting lightly on your waist. "Maybe."

 The firelight flickers, casting a golden glow over everything. Wanda is still watching. Definitely watching. But you can’t focus on that because Agatha’s hands are warm against your sides, and she’s closer than she probably should be.

 Her voice drops just for you. "Still scared?"

 You scoff. "Scared? I’m not—"

 "Yeah, right" Agatha cuts in, smirking.

You shake your head, exasperated but smiling. The two of you dance, and so do the others. The music and laughter blend with the crackling fire, easing the lingering tension from the ghost stories.

The song fades, but Agatha doesn’t let go right away. Her hands linger at your waist, her fingers just barely brushing your sides before she finally steps back. It’s only a second or two longer than necessary, but you notice it. And so does Wanda.

You settle back onto the logs, the fire crackling as everyone starts reaching for marshmallows and skewers. The conversation is lighter now, the eerie tension from the ghost stories fading into quiet laughter and teasing remarks.

“Okay, but real talk,” Jen says, stuffing a marshmallow into her mouth before she even roasts it. “If we hear something in the woods tonight, are we ignoring it or investigating like idiots in a horror movie?”

“Ignore it,” Wanda says immediately. “Don’t be stupid.”

Alice, still jumpy from the ghost stories, shivers. "I swear, if something taps on my tent, I will freak out. Or—whoever I’m sharing with, you better be ready to wake up with me."

Jen grins. "Speaking of that... who’s sharing with who?"

“I’ll be with Lilia,” Jen adds before anyone can answer.

“Guess that leaves me with you, Y/N,” Wanda says, her tone casual—but there’s an edge to it, like she’s already decided for you.

Before you can process that, Agatha scoffs. “Actually, Y/N and I are sharing.”

Wanda turns to her, eyebrows raised. “Since when?”

“Since this morning,” Agatha says smoothly. “Before lunch. Y/N went into a tent, and I followed. We already put our stuff there.”

Wanda’s gaze flicks to you, expecting some kind of confirmation or denial. You hesitate.

“I mean… yeah,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. “Agatha’s right. That’s kind of how it happened.”

Wanda’s lips press into a thin line. “You could’ve said something earlier.”

You shrug, suddenly feeling awkward. “Didn’t really think it was a big deal.”

Alice looks between the three of you, blinking.

The tension in the air is impossible to ignore. Agatha smirks slightly, clearly enjoying the way Wanda bristles, but she doesn’t say anything else.

Wanda, on the other hand, exhales sharply, visibly holding something back. But after a moment, she just shakes her head and mutters, “Whatever. Do what you want.”

Lilia, oblivious to the quiet standoff, yawns and stands up, brushing off her hands. “Alright, I’m heading in.”

One by one, the rest of the group follows, dousing the fire until only the faint glow of embers remains. Wanda hesitates for just a second, shooting you one last unreadable look before stepping into her tent with Alice.

You let out a slow breath, suddenly aware of the way your shoulders had tensed. Agatha is already beside you, watching with a knowing expression.

“Didn’t really think it was a big deal, huh?” she murmurs, her voice laced with amusement.

You shoot her a look. “Don’t start.”

Agatha just chuckles, bumping her shoulder against yours before turning toward the tent. “Come on.”

You sigh, following her inside, the quiet rustling of the trees outside the only sound accompanying you.

The air inside the tent feels warmer than it should, the weight of the day settling in as you shift slightly on your sleeping bag. Agatha mirrors your movement, lying on her side, propped up on one elbow as she looks at you. The soft glow from the dying bonfire outside barely illuminates her face, but you can still make out the teasing glint in her eyes.

"So," she starts, voice hushed, "what's up with Wanda breathing down my neck all day?"

You huff out a quiet laugh, turning onto your side to face her. "You noticed that, huh?"

"Kinda hard not to when she looks like she wants to tackle me every time I get near you," Agatha mutters, lips twitching into a smirk. "What did I do to piss off your best friend?"

You hesitate for a second, then shrug. "She’s just… protective."

Agatha raises a brow. "That protective?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "Wanda knows I got hurt before. Not, like, physically, but… you know. She doesn’t want me to go through that again."

There’s a beat of silence before Agatha tilts her head slightly, studying you. "And she thinks I'm the one who's gonna hurt you?"

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you pick at a loose thread on your blanket, avoiding her gaze. The truth is, she did hurt you—even if she doesn’t realize it. And she still doesn’t know how much. But it’s not like you haven’t wondered the same thing yourself. There’s no label on whatever this is between you and Agatha. And sure, she kissed you last night—really kissed you. But is that enough to say she wouldn’t hurt you?

You don’t have an answer, so instead, you just shrug. "No. You know what? Let’s just forget about it. Wanda’s protectiveness will pass… eventually."

Agatha watches you for a moment, then smirks. "You sure? ‘Cause I think she’s about two seconds away from putting a leash on you."

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "She’s just—she’s Wanda. She’s always been like that."

"Mhm." Agatha props her head up with her hand, grinning.

A comfortable silence falls over you both, and then you find yourself asking, “By the way, what did Wanda say to you earlier? When you two went to get firewood?”

Agatha exhales, like she expected this. “She told me to stop messing with you.”

You frown. “Messing with me?”

Agatha turns on her side to face you, her lips curl into a smirk, even in the dark. “You know, like annoying you, pissing you off—” She leans in slightly. “Making you blush.”

Before you can protest, a sudden rustling noise outside the tent makes you both freeze.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Did you hear that?” you whisper.

Agatha sits up slightly. “Probably just the wind.”

Another rustle. Louder this time.

You tighten your grip on your sleeping bag. “Or it’s one of those ghosts from the stories earlier,” you mutter.

Agatha chuckles. “Only one way to find out.”

She starts unzipping the tent, and you grab her wrist. “Are you serious? Just ignore it.”

Agatha grins. “Where’s the fun in that?” Before you can stop her, she slips outside.

You wait a few seconds, listening intently. “Agatha?” you call quietly. No response.

Your stomach tightens. You fumble for your phone, turning on the flashlight, and crawl out of the tent. The beam cuts through the darkness—but Agatha is nowhere to be seen.

Your pulse quickens. “Agatha, this isn’t funny,” you whisper-shout, stepping toward your friends’ tents, ready to wake someone up.

Then—

“Boo.”

You whip around, nearly jumping out of your skin. Agatha stands behind you, arms crossed, a smug grin on her face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you hiss, shoving her arm. “I thought—I thought something happened to you!”

Agatha shrugs, looking amused. “Relax, it was just a rabbit. I saw it.”

You glare at her, still catching your breath. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” she says easily, nudging you back toward the tent. “Come on, scaredy-cat.”

When you both get back inside the tent, you’re still pissed at Agatha. She’s still grinning, stretching out lazily on her sleeping bag like she didn’t just scare the hell out of you.

“I didn’t know you scared so easily,” she murmurs, amusement still laced in her tone.

You glare at her, still feeling your heart race from earlier. “I wasn’t scared. I just didn’t want to be the idiot in a horror movie who investigates a noise and dies first.”

Agatha chuckles, shaking her head. Then, quieter this time—like it’s something she hadn’t meant to say aloud—“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, you know.”

The air shifts. The usual teasing in her voice is gone, replaced by something softer, something real. You glance at her, expecting a smirk, but she’s just looking at you, eyes unreadable in the dim glow of the tent.

A beat passes. Then another.

Agatha reaches over, her fingers brushing against your cheek before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It’s such a small, simple gesture, but the way her touch lingers sends a shiver through you. You feel the warmth of her skin, the way her fingers hesitate—just a second too long.

She looks at your lips, then back to your eyes.

Your pulse pounds, but you don’t pull away. Maybe you should. Maybe you should say something snarky, break the tension—but you don’t.

Agatha’s fingers trail down to your jaw, tilting your chin slightly, as if testing. As if waiting for you to stop her. When you don’t, she doesn’t ask for permission—she just moves.

The kiss starts slow, hesitant—like neither of you can quite believe it’s happening. But then something shifts. Agatha lets out a quiet sound against your lips, and suddenly, it’s like neither of you want to stop.

Your fingers find the hem of her long-sleeved white polo, gripping it like you need something to ground yourself. Agatha responds by pressing closer, her body half over yours now, her lips moving against yours with a hunger that makes your breath hitch.

Agatha’s fingers slide higher, tracing the curve of your spine. Her touch is slow, unhurried, like she’s memorizing the feel of you beneath her hands. The weight of her palm lingers, pressing into your skin in a way that makes your breath stutter.

Then she pauses.

Her hands still under your tank top, warm against your bare skin, but she doesn’t move further. Instead, she leans in just enough that her breath ghosts over your lips.

“Is this okay?” she murmurs, her voice quieter now—softer.

The teasing edge is gone, replaced with something else entirely. Something careful. Something that makes your chest ache.

You swallow, pulse hammering. You should say something, but the words stick in your throat. Instead, you nod, barely more than a small tilt of your head.

Agatha studies you for half a second longer—like she’s making sure—before she kisses you again. This time, there’s no hesitation.

Her hands begin to move, slow but deliberate. Fingertips tracing up the curve of your spine, then down again, pressing into the small of your back as she pulls you closer. Her touch burns, leaving a trail of warmth wherever she goes.

She shifts slightly, half rolling you onto your back as her palm flattens against your stomach, sliding higher beneath your tank top. Every inch she covers feels electric, every slow drag of her fingers leaving you breathless.

When her thumb brushes just beneath your ribs, you gasp against her lips. Agatha catches the sound, swallowing it with a smirk you can feel rather than see.

“You’re so sensitive,” she whispers, her voice rich with amusement—and something else. Something darker.

Her hand moves higher. Testing. Exploring. Her fingers skim over the edge of your bra, teasing but never quite going further. Like she’s waiting for you to stop her.

But you don’t.

And that seems to be all the confirmation Agatha needs.

Her fingers slide higher, brushing over lace and skin with an unbearable slowness. Her touch is teasing, savoring every reaction—every shiver, every caught breath, every way your body responds to hers.

“You’re shaking again,” she whispers, her lips barely grazing your jaw.

You exhale sharply, fingers gripping the fabric of her sleeve. “And you’re talking too much.”

Agatha huffs a quiet laugh against your skin, her breath warm, teasing. “Bossy,” she murmurs, but there’s no bite to it—only amusement, only something softer.

The tent fabric rustles as she shifts, pressing herself closer. The weight of her is dizzying, grounding, and when her thigh slides between yours, the sensation makes your breath hitch.

Her fingers move again, slipping beneath your bra with deliberate slowness. The tent isn’t exactly thin, but it isn’t soundproof either. A few feet away, their friends are probably asleep—but not far enough that they wouldn’t hear if either of them got too carried away.

Agatha seems to remember this at the same time you do.

She leans in, lips brushing against your ear as her thumb finds your nipple through the lace of your bra, pressing just enough to make you shiver.

The thin fabric does nothing to dull the sensation. If anything, it makes it worse—frustrating in the way that leaves you aching for more.

Then, Agatha suddenly pauses. Her breath is warm against your ear when she murmurs, “You do realize these tents aren’t exactly soundproof, right?”

You swallow, pulse still racing, and murmur, “Yeah.” You pause, lips brushing against hers as you add, “Let’s just hope everyone’s actually asleep.”

Agatha hums, her fingers still teasing over lace.

You should be more careful. You should be thinking about the thin fabric of the tent, about the way sound carries in the stillness of the night.

But then Agatha’s hand moves again—slow, deliberate—her fingers slipping just beneath the lace, and suddenly, nothing else seems to matter.

A sharp inhale catches in your throat, your body tensing under her touch. Agatha stills for half a second, like she’s waiting—giving you space to stop this, to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, your hands move—almost on their own—reaching for the buttons of her long-sleeved polo. Your fingers fumble slightly, the fabric slipping under your grip as you undo the first one, then the second.

Agatha exhales a quiet laugh, her breath warm against your lips. “In a hurry?” she murmurs.

You don’t answer. You just keep going, pushing the fabric apart, your fingertips skimming over warm skin.

Agatha doesn’t stop you. If anything, she encourages it—shifting slightly, letting you peel the fabric away. The sight of her, the heat of her beneath your hands, sends something electric through you.

Then she’s kissing you again, deeper this time, hungrier, as if your touch has set something loose inside her. Her hands slide up your sides again, slipping fully beneath your bra now, her palms warm, fingers tracing, exploring.

She groans softly against your lips, and the sound sends a shiver straight through you.

The air between you is feverish, breathless, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember—your friends are still nearby.

Agatha must remember too, because when she leans in, her voice is barely more than a whisper against your ear.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this here,” she murmurs, though there’s no conviction behind it.

And yet, neither of you stop.

You let out a quiet breath, your hands still resting against the warm skin beneath her open polo. “Then stop,” you whisper back, but neither of you move.

Agatha’s lips twitch, her fingers flexing slightly against your skin. “You don’t want me to.”

You don’t. Not even a little.

Instead of answering, you slide your hands further beneath her shirt, palms skimming up her stomach, tracing the curve of her ribs. She exhales shakily, her grip on you tightening for just a second.

“Thought so,” she breathes.

Then she’s kissing you again, swallowing whatever response you might’ve had.

And just like that, the rest of the world—the tents, the risk, the lingering thread of reason—fades away.

You break the kiss just long enough to pull your tank top over your head, the fabric slipping from your fingers as you toss it aside. The cool air brushes over your skin, sending a shiver through you—but then Agatha’s hands are back, and she’s so much warmer.

Her eyes darken as she takes you in, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. The way she looks at you—like she wants—is enough.

You reach for her next, pushing her polo past her shoulders, dragging it down her arms. She helps, shrugging it off in one smooth motion before leaning back in, her lips finding yours as if she can’t stand the space between you.

Her hands trace your sides, fingers ghosting over bare skin. She moves slow—like she’s savoring every touch, every inch of you.

Then, with deliberate intent, her fingers slip beneath the strap of your bra, tracing the curve of your shoulder before gliding lower, lower—

Her breath is warm against your lips. Your pulse thrums beneath her touch. The rest of the world fades.

Nothing else matters.

Your hands move without thought, sliding over the bare skin of her back, tracing the dips and curves with slow, deliberate strokes. You feel the shift of her muscles beneath your touch, the way she tenses slightly when your fingers drag lower, just above the waistband of her pants.

Agatha exhales, her breath fanning against your cheek, but she doesn’t pause.

Her hands begin to wander—slowly, deliberately. They glide down past your waist, fingertips barely grazing the curve of your hips before trailing lower, teasing over the fabric of your leggings, where your skin burns beneath.

Your breath catches.

She lingers there, her touch light, almost too light, like she’s waiting—watching for your reaction. And when your body responds—when your legs part just slightly, instinctively—her lips curl into the faintest smirk against your skin.

Her fingers press in just a little more, still teasing, still not enough.

The anticipation coils in your stomach, heat pooling low, your grip tightening against her back.

Still, neither of you speak.

There’s no need.

Everything is understood in the way your bodies move, in the way you hold onto each other, in the way she touches you—slow and purposeful, like she has all the time in the world.

Like she’s savoring this.

Savoring you.

Agatha’s hand drifts lower, fingertips barely brushing over your thigh, featherlight and deliberate. She moves in slow, teasing circles, each pass of her fingers bringing her closer—so close—to where you want her.

Your breath stutters, your grip tightening against her back.

Then, she presses just a little harder, her fingers grazing the inside of your thigh, just shy of where you need her most.

A quiet whimper escapes before you can stop it. Your body reacts on instinct, heat pooling low, thighs twitching as you clench around nothing.

Agatha notices. Of course, she does.

She exhales a soft, amused sound, her lips brushing over your jaw. Her fingers flex against your skin, lingering, not giving you what you want—not yet.

She’s savoring this. Drawing it out. Watching the way you react, the way your body responds to her touch.

The tension coils tighter, your breathing uneven, anticipation burning through every nerve.

Agatha’s fingers slip from your thigh, trailing up—slow, agonizing—until they reach the waistband of your leggings. She toys with it, brushing her fingers just beneath the fabric, just enough to make your stomach tighten, to make your hips shift ever so slightly toward her.

She notices. She always notices.

Her lips ghost over your cheek, her breath warm against your skin. Then, with a slow, deliberate drag, she tugs at the band, just an inch, just enough to make you shiver.

Her voice is barely a whisper. "You still okay?"

You nod—maybe too quickly, too eager—but she doesn’t tease you for it.

Instead, her lips find your pulse point, pressing a kiss there as her fingers slip further beneath the fabric, dragging lower, lower—

Just as Agatha’s fingers dip lower, the faint sound of footsteps crunching outside makes both of you freeze.

Your breath catches, your heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.

Then—

"I know you guys are still awake."

Lilia’s voice.

"I heard… muffled noises."

Your heart stops.

Muffled noises?

You snap your gaze to Agatha, wide-eyed, heat rushing to your face. But Agatha—Agatha—has the audacity to look amused. The startled tension in her face melts in an instant, replaced by something far too smug for the situation.

"Muffled?" she calls back, feigning innocence. "You mean, like, whispering?"

Lilia hesitates. "I mean… I guess? I don’t know! I just—do you have extra socks? My feet are freezing."

Agatha sighs—dramatically—but finally pulls away, reaching for her bag. You use the moment to press your palms to your burning face, silently willing your body to calm the hell down.

The tent unzips just slightly, and Agatha wordlessly slips the socks through the small opening.

"Thanks," Lilia mumbles, footsteps crunching away.

The moment Lilia’s footsteps fade, the tent falls into silence.

You exhale, pressing a hand to your face, still trying to cool the heat burning under your skin.

Agatha, of course, is thriving.

"Muffled noises, huh?" she echoes, lips twitching.

You groan, shoving at her shoulder, but she only laughs—low and pleased with herself.

Then, her laughter softens. Her eyes flicker over you, glinting with something darker. Something mischievous.

She leans back in, close enough that her breath tickles your lips, fingers already finding their way back to your waist.

"Now… where were we?"

Taglist: @6stolenangel9 @charlottelinlin1 @milflovers4 @claramelooo @loveshineslikethesky @kaymariesworld @marcelinaceciliarose @misskassycollins @greyella @theothersideofthescreen @whitelotus00 @agathaallalongg @psychickryptonitebouquet @sweetmidnights @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @filmedbyharkness @brekker157 @rizzlesregal13 @starbucks-06 @aboutcustardcreams @crescendoofstars @neverfindmegone @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @theonefairygodmother @isixxxx @starryjeongyeon

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 9

Wanda Maximoff x Doctor!R

Summary: New Year, new... relationship challenges? Sharing a home isn't all fun and games.

A/N: Everyone, please don’t tell me how much you hate where this story is going just because it seems like R will cheat on Wanda. There’s more to the plot and it’s not something I’m doing just randomly, I’m spending time and effort into creating a fic that is a bit more nuanced or at least I hope it is.

Natasha is not a people person.

Which is funny, considering her profession. She’s created a system that allows her to interact with patients as little as possible, and to focus on what she understands best: the human heart.

Not as a metaphor for sentimental stuff, but as a perfect machine.

She’s out of her element now, and considering the stupid drunk that is shouting in the middle of the ER, Natasha thinks it’s better to check if you’re around later.

“Is anybody going to take a look at this?” the man raises his messed up hand, slurring his words. He approaches Natasha, and she busies herself reading a chart. “Are you going to help or not, hot stuff?”

“I don’t work here” she grumbles, deciding that she’ll have to wait for you somewhere else.

“I was hoping you could take care of me. Where are you going? I'm talking to you” he says when she turns to leave, his good hand flying to grab her by the elbow.

Natasha is ready to throw a punch, but she never feels his touch in any part of her body.

“Lay a hand on her and I will strap you to a hospital bed and give you a colonoscopy without anesthesia” you say, surprising him with your strenght. “Now, sir, sit the fuck down and someone will be with you shortly”

“I’ll handle it” Barnes, the new nurse, approaches with his signature frown. He is equally attractive and terrifying, though most of the nurses ignore the latter.

“Thank you” you smile, watching the man become quiet as Barnes grabs him by the shoulder, knowing he won’t be able to say anything stupid to him. “Hi, Nat”

“Hey, stranger” she smiles at you. “I was hoping I’d run into you here”

“Is that why you were wandering the ER? You could just text me” you smile, walking with her to the cafeteria. “My shift ended an hour ago, which is why I wasn’t the one dealing with that asshole”

“Thank you for that, you are such a gentlewoman. I am dissapointed, though. I was hoping you’d stay for our first lesson today”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it for the world”

Most of the hospital was buzzing with excitement at learning the new surgical technique that had earned Melina Romanoff a Nobel Prize. The exception was Tony, but that was only because he was convinced the Romanoffs had a secret, evil plot to take over. Even Pepper had told me to chill in front of everyone.

You sit at the front, saving a spot for Darcy and follow every word Natasha says. She’s just going over some of the theory and the process of how the research came to be, which is still very interesting to you. Medical research required patience and focus that you did not have, so you had turned your professional development to trauma, as well as search and rescue training.

“We’ll meet on Wednesday to start the first exercises” she finishes the presentation, and winks at you discreetly.

You smile, leaving the conference room, Darcy right behind you.

“What was that?”

“What? Were you expecting exercises from the get go?”

“I meant the wink. Why was she winking at you?” Darcy insists and you shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know. Friends wink at each other. I wink at you!”

“If you winked at me, I’d think you’re having a stroke” Darcy insists, and you have to roll your eyes. “It was flirty”

“Natasha knows about my relationship, we are just friends” you say, eager to finish the conversation.

“I just think there’s something fishy about this”

“You too? Stark got to you, Lewis” you mock, nudging her shoulder. “Come on, it’s all fine. I gotta get home, though, I forgot to tell Wanda I was staying longer”

“I hope she kicks your ass for that!” Darcy says as you run out of the hospital.

“Yeah, yeah”

As you drive home, you stop by the shopping street to get Wanda some flowers. You don’t think she’ll be too upset about you being late, but it never hurts to be safe.

Still, as you park in the driveway, you take a couple of minutes inside your car, looking at your old home in the rearview mirror.

Truth be told… you’re stalling. Though you love everyone inside the Maximoff house very much, you’ve had so much work these past two weeks, and it’s always a bit exhausting to get home and find the kids running around or Pietro complaining about something.

As someone who went from living alone to sharing a house with four other people full time, it was definitely overwhelming to say the least.

You take a last, deep breath and step inside the house, Pietro watching a show while the twins play in the backyard.

“You’re late” he comments.

“Work stuff” is all you say, not feeling in the mood to justify your tardiness to someone who isn’t Wanda.

But, as you enter the kitchen and your eyes meet hers, you can tell she’s also a little upset.

“Sorry, work ran long” you apologize, offering the flowers. She tries to smile and you put them down on the counter. “I really am sorry, Wands”

“No, it’s ok. I’m just behind with the book and the kids were a little difficult today… I could have used your help, that’s all”

I could have used some rest, you want to say, but that won’t help. It’s not forever, you keep thinking. Pietro will get better and move out, and things will be less crowded.

“I’ll be here all day tomorrow, I can take care of anything you need” you promise, saying goodbye to the prospect of a good nap. To keep yourself busy, you take out stuff to make a sandwich, sighing when you notice you’re out of cheese. “Like going to the grocery store, I guess”

Pietro keeps eating everything and by the time you’re home, there’s barely any food left.

“And you’re coming to the twins game on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh” you pause, scratching your neck. “I have to go to the hospital”

“Again? It seems like you’re there all week” Wanda protests.

“Well, yeah, we’re understaffed, between people being sick and others taking time off. I have to go and head the department, it’s my job, Wanda” you say, suddenly not hungry.

Nothing’s enough, you’re not good enough.

“I just… miss you. That’s all” Wanda says, and you sigh, feeling like an asshole.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s always crazy during January, plus we’re doing a new training with a doctor from Boston. Things will settle in a couple of weeks, I promise”

“Ok” she nods, smiling as you approach her, kissing her temple. “But you’ll have to make it up to me”

“I have a few ideas for that, Miss Maximoff” you smile, pulling her against you and kissing her temple. “And none of them include clothes”

“Good” she laughs, standing on her toes to kiss you.

—

You wanted to have a good day, you really did. Wanda needed some work done on her new study so you dropped off the kids and drove to the hardware store, trusting Pietro could be fine on his own for a while.

What really ruined the mood happened on the way back home.

While turning on a busy street, your mother calls and instead of pressing the ignore button, you answer.

“Fuck” you mutter and it’s too late to hang up. “Hey, mom”

Wanda perks up at that, curious about your mother. She has never even heard her voice, let alone watch you have a conversation on the phone with her. She can tell your posture stiffens.

“Hello, Y/N. I missed your call for the holidays”

“Had lots of work” you lie.

“Oh, well. Hope you liked your birthday present” the woman says in a kinder tone and you almost want to laugh.

“Yeah, thanks. Really appreciate it”

“So, I don’t have a lot of time, wanted to let you know we’re flying there next week but we’re just gonna stay for three days. I don’t think we’ll have the time to meet you. Plus, it’s just us family, you know”

“Right” you try to sound disappointed, but are actually tempted to stop the car and dance around the street. “Some other time”

“Just make sure you’re available in case we need anything. It’s the least you can do”

“Of course” you agree, looking out of the corner of your eye at the confused expression on Wanda’s face. “Have fun, say hi to everyone for me”

“Ok, you take care now”

The minute she hangs up, you let out a huge sigh of relief.

“What was that?” Wanda says, frowning.

“Which part, love?”

“Everything! Ok, first of all, the birthday present. What did she get you? I didn’t see anything delivered”

“Wanda, she doesn’t even know where I live. What happened was, someone walked by and she pretended to be nice. She’s always done it” you explain, feeling irritated. All you want is to be happy that you won’t see her, but Wanda is pushing the subject.

“And what about them coming? And not making the time to see you? Just us family? You’re her daughter!”

“Wanda, please, drop it” you plead, parking outside your home and stepping out of the car.

“Why is she like this? Why don’t you call her out on it? And I’m sorry, I just can’t understand someone being so horrible to their own child”

“Wanda!” you snap, slapping the trunk of the car. “I know, she’s horrible. I don’t care if she lies about getting me a birthday present and I don’t care enough about her to call her out for being mommy dearest. I am just so damn happy that I don’t have to be around her anymore, can we please focus on that?”

“I am just trying to understand. You never tell me anything about her” Wanda protests and you can’t believe she’s still talking about this.

“Everything there is to know, you already know, Wanda. What else would you like to learn? That sometimes I went to bed without having dinner because she thought I was getting fat? Or that when I got a summer job and was out too late she only let me sleep on the porch? What other fucking twisted things would you like to learn about that awful woman?”

“I…”

“If I say it’s complicated or I don’t want to talk about it, maybe just listen once. Here” you toss the car keys her way, not caring if she catches them or not. “I’m going for a walk”

You’d do more than walk if you were wearing different shoes and it wasn’t so damn cold. Still, you don’t make it very far, running into a black and white bunny in the middle of the street. None of your neighbors have pet rabbits, not that you can recall.

“Where did you come from?” you say, hugging the little thing and feeling relaxed as it moves its nose and settles in your arms.

“Señor Scratchy!” Agatha yells from her porch, and you turn around.

“I take it he’s yours?”

“Yes, Rio gave him to me. Señor Scratchy, what are you doing outside?” the woman says with a soft voice, taking him back. “I don’t know how he got out”

“Maybe your fence? Let’s take a look” you walk around to her backyard, pointing at an old part of her wooden fence. “Aha!”

“Oh, great. It will take forever to find someone to fix it” she grumbles. “He’ll have to stay inside for the time being”

“I can fix it. It will only take an hour or so” you say, eager to stay out of the house for a bit longer.

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Agatha squeezes your cheek and then slaps it gently. “Just remember, I’m already taken, hot stuff”

“I’m just fixing your fence, Miss Harkness” you wink. “I’ll be back with the stuff we need”

Wanda seems to be in her study when you go back home. The fact that you feel relieved instead of sad for making her hide does make you a little guilty.

Truth is, you’ve never lived with anyone you had a relationship with, and neither did she. Maybe you’re both expecting things to be perfect, and it’s just not realistic. Disagreements are bound to happen when you share a home.

Right?

As you work on Agatha’s fence, you keep thinking about a way to make things work for everyone, because you’ve had a couple of fights with Wanda in the span of two days and you really don’t want to make it a habit.

“Did that fence do something to you?” Agatha interrupts you, handing over a glass of water.

“Huh?” you look up at her, taking it and nodding your thanks.

“You're nailing that wood a little too hard, hot stuff” she says, dragging a garden chair and sitting next to you. “Spill”

Saying it’s nothing won’t stop her from asking, so you keep working and tell her everything that has been going on. How the house feels too crowded sometimes, and work is kicking your ass. It takes a minute, but you admit that Wanda really upset you, questioning why you didn’t stand up to your mother.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s something I’ve always wondered myself. Why didn’t I say something instead of being weak. It struck a nerve when Wanda said it out loud”

“Did she call you weak?” Agatha says, frowning.

“No, that’s me being dramatic” you chuckle.

“Look, it’s what I told you the other day. Not everyone understands it, because most people have a semi functional relationship with their parents. And from the sound of it, Wanda’s were straight out of a sitcom”

“I guess”

“She doesn’t have to understand it. She just has to respect your boundaries” Agatha says and you nod, still thinking about everything. “Have you ever thought about going no contact with your mother?”

“Is that what you did?”

“Oh, honey, my mother’s dead. So unless I pull out a Ouija board, we’re no contact already” she cackles, which makes you laugh.

“I don’t know. If she needs something, I guess I would try to help her. If she was a bad mother, that’s on her. But I won’t be a bad daughter”

“You’re too good” Agatha pats your back, and you smile at her.

“Alright, well, your fence is fixed. Can we call it even with the therapy session you just gave me?” you stand up, making sure everything’s in its place.

“Nu-uh, you owe me” Agatha jokes, taking the bunny out to the backyard. “You’ll be fine. Tú puedes”

“Duolingo?”

“Rio’s been teaching me Spanish. The other stuff I can’t say it to you because it’s dirty and for her ears only” the brunette winks, which makes you blush. “Bye, Y/N”

“Bye, Agatha” you roll your eyes at her antics, feeling better as you walk back home.

You figure it’s better to start working on what Wanda needs, so you carry the stuff upstairs and knock before entering the guest room turned into a study.

“Hey” you say, as Wanda looks out the window instead of working.

“Hi”

“I’ll fix the lights and then adjust your desk, or do you need to work now?” you ask, unsure if she’s also upset at you.

“No, that’s fine. It’s not even important, you should rest, work has been crazy for you” she finally turns, and you can tell she’s trying hard not to cry.

“Hey… come here” you step closer, pulling her into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry for pushing the subject. I can’t imagine someone being so awful to you, and I made you… I should have kept it to myself”

“It’s… yeah. It wasn’t nice and I really don’t like to look back at everything that happened. But I know you didn’t mean any harm, ok? I love you, baby” you kiss her temple, feeling her relax in your arms. “Why don’t you go check on your brother? He’s been too quiet, which can only mean he’s getting into some sort of trouble”

“Or buying more stuff from Amazon. We barely fit here” Wanda grumbles and you laugh, kissing her. “I’m sorry”

“I know. You’ll make it up to me in bed” you joke, which makes her laugh.

“Maybe now that he’s busy…”

In that precise moment, her brother decides to call for Wanda.

“Go” you kiss Wanda again, wishing you had more time just with her.

—

Natasha’s not excited about the day ahead, the only silver lining being that she gets to see you. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. She’s flirting and constantly eyeing you, but nothing’s gonna happen.

Not on a lack of desire on her part. It’s pretty obvious you’re not the type of person who cheats. Pretty ironic, she finally meets a decent woman and you’re already taken.

What does that girlfriend of yours have that she doesn’t? Aside from two kids that adore you. Is the whole housewife thing really that appealing to someone like you?

As she enters the room for the next lesson, Natasha notices you’re sitting a few rows behind. That’s a little disappointing. Still, your eyes follow her every move and she feels a little surge of pride at that.

If only you were single, Natasha might get you to roleplay that teacher-student fantasy she’s had.

Still, as she finishes her explanation, you walk up to her, smiling.

“That was brilliant, Natasha” a brunette doctor walks behind you, and you reach out to stop her. “Hey, come meet Doctor Romanoff, Darcy”

“Pleased to meet you. We’re loving the lessons” she says, not wanting to make small talk. “Y/N, come on. I’m starving”

“Oh, I was thinking we could go out for a bite if you’d like?” you turn to Natasha, smiling.

“I’ve got surgery in half an hour” Darcy says, glaring at you.

“Nat?” you turn to the woman, smiling. “Bishop can take care of the ER for me”

“Yeah, I’d love to” Natasha says, kicking herself over how fast she agrees to doing anything you ask.

“Awesome, I know this great place” you begin saying, but she gets a phone call. Natasha looks at you apologetically, but you smile, while Darcy is pulling at your sleeve and giving her a strange look.

“I’ll only take a moment” Natasha promises.

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“A word, Y/N?” Darcy finally gets your attention back and you frown.

Natasha doesn’t care much about the new doctor, unless she’s also fighting for your attention. She finds an empty room to take the call, shutting the door behind her.

“What is it, mother?”

“How’s the second lesson?”

“Fine. Do you keep a timer on your desk?”

“I just like to know if the study plan I designed is working, Natalia. That way, when we move to the next one, it can be more efficient until we manage a global, scalable solution”

“We? I’m only doing this here and then I’m going back to my research, you agreed” Natasha reminds her, blood boiling.

“This is your legacy too”

“Then how come I wasn’t up there getting the Nobel with you?”

“Natalia, those are insignificant things compared to what we can acheive” Melina scoffs.

“I’m not going to spend another month in a different hospital just because you’re too paranoid about someone stealing your research”

“Fine, then get me a new Head of Trauma for Boston and we’ll consider it even” Melina says. “You know Yelena wants to focus on that, she needs someone who can teach her”

“There are tons of applicants. Choose one from the pile in your desk, Mother” Natasha sighs, knowing where this is going.

“What about that doctor you told me about? You sounded so enamoured last time”

“She wouldn’t move to another city, her girlfriend’s here” Natasha says.

“Girlfriends aren’t wives. Well, even spouses can get divorced. Maybe she just needs to hear the right offer” Melina insists.

“Mother…”

“You’re not resuming your research until you find a new Head of Trauma. That’s final, Natalia” the woman loses her cool, hanging up on her daughter.

Natasha feels so stupid, of course this would happen. Melina never cared about anything other than herself and her accomplishments.

“Fuck” the woman says, kicking one of the chairs. You walk inside that precise moment, jumping at the outburst.

“You ok?” you say, locking the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing”

You let out a sigh, sitting next to her in the bed of the on call room.

“We can skip lunch if you’re not hungry”

“It’s not that. I mean, I’m not hungry anymore, my mother just pissed me off” Natasha shakes her head, trying to calm her racing heart.

“You got one of those too, huh?” you chuckle. “I’m sorry, Nat, honestly. It’s the worse feeling in the world. Someone who should support you trying to bring you down, and then no one believing you because there’s this collective denial that mothers can be bad people”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. To everyone else she’s a genius. To me, she’s the woman who’s always reminding me how ordinary I am compared to her” Natasha fiddles with her hands, not used to being vulnerable. Not with someone who understands her so well.

“You’re not ordinary, Natasha” you say with so much conviction that the redhead looks up, eyes meeting yours. “And if your mother thinks that, I’m sorry to say that she’s not as smart as I thought”

Natasha laughs, blushing a little at the compliment. You nudge her with your elbow, standing up.

“Want some coffee instead? If you’re not hungry anymore” you place your hand in the doorknob, checking if she’s ready to step out.

“Yeah, sure”

As you nod and open the door, Natasha stands up, reaching for your wrist.

“I… thank you. You’re too kind to me” she says in a low voice.

“I guess I know how isolating it can be. If you ever want to talk, I’m here” you squeeze her arm in return, smiling at her.

Natasha is about to say something else, something probably really stupid, when a voice calls behind you.

“Detka, there you are”

“Wanda? Hi, what are you doing here?” you step out of the room now, looking at your girlfriend. Wanda, however, is focused on the very attractive redhead that follows behind you, noticing you were alone seconds ago

“Am I interrupting something?” she says, eyes not leaving Natasha’s figure.

“What? No, this is Nat… eh, doctor Romanoff. She’s the doctor from Boston who is giving us the course” you explain, looking between both women. Natasha is the first one to give up the staring contest, extending her hand to Wanda.

“Nice to meet you. Y/N has told me so much about you and your boys”

“I’m happy to hear that”

Happy that you know she’s taken.

“So, uh… what are you doing here?” you ask, still thrown off by Wanda’s presence. Ever since Pietro was discharged, she has never been back to the hospital. If you recall correctly, she said she had enough of hospitals for a lifetime.

“I need to talk to you for a second. Alone”

“I’ll meet you in a second” you smile as Natasha walks back to the conference room and she nods. When you turn to Wanda she has a strange look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You never told me she was this pretty”

“Who?”

“Natasha”

“I didn’t notice” you mumble, scratching your neck. “And anyways, that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“Right. I just… I wanted to apologize again for yesterday. And make sure we’re ok. I know these past few weeks have been hard. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to come over and see you”

“Hey, we’re ok” you promise, pulling her by the waist. “I love you, you love me and we have a pretty nice family, don’t we? Even with stinky Pietro”

“I’m trying to convince him to shower daily” she laughs against your lips. It’s pretty clear that he was clean during his hospital days because he got sponge baths.

“It’s either that or hosing him down in the backyard”

“I’d like to see that” your girlfriend laughs and you take her hand, bringing it to your lips. “I’ll let you get back to work”

“Ok, if I can I’ll leave early” you kiss her cheek, squeezing her waist until you’re hand goes dangerously lower. “And maybe we can have some makeup sex”

“Mmhm you’d like that wouldn’t you” Wanda slaps your shoulder. “Go”

But as you wave goodbye and walk up to meet Natasha, Wanda doesn’t miss the look on the redhead's eyes.

She knows it, because it’s the same way Wanda looks at you. And that’s all it takes for her to decide, she doesn’t like the other woman.

—

It’s not as late as you thought, because when you get home everyone’s finishing dinner.

“She lives” Pietro says when you walk in.

“He bathes” you say, noticing his wet hair. “Did Wanda tell you I was going to hose you down?”

He doesn’t get to reply, because the kids jump in your arms.

“My stinky minions! Did you win the game today?”

“No, you have to come to the next one. You’re our lucky charm” Billy says.

“Pinky promise, I will come to the next one” you nod, moving to kiss Wanda. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Moya lyubov” she says and you smile, always loving that accent. “Come have dinner while the kids shower”

“Can you read us a story when you finish?” Tommy asks.

“Of course. Now go with Mom, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done”

The kids cheer as you get a plate and serve some delicious lasagna. Now you really don’t regret coming home early.

“Alright, I’m calling it a night. I’m exhausted” Pietro says.

“From showering?” you joke, but he fake laughs as he pushes his wheelchair away. “Leave your plate, I’ll clean it up”

“Thanks, sestra”

As you eat, you remember to send a text to Natasha, asking if she wants to have lunch with you tomorrow before she heads back to Boston for the rest of the week.

The kids are ready for bed and you walk upstairs, sitting between their beds and reading Dragon Feathers, which was your father’s favorite bedtime story to tell. Billy and Tommy laugh as you make different voices, the way your dad did when he told you the tale.

As soon as you’re done, they settle in bed, and Wanda’s the one who tucks them in, joining you at the door.

“I missed this” you say against her temple.

“I missed you” she agrees, leaning against your side. “Come to my study, I want to show you the drawings I made for the book”

The new working space was starting to grow on Wanda. Even if it was smaller, she had enough room to fit everything she needed, and her view was much better from the second floor.

You admire the sketches she hands you, looking at every detail and stroke of her pencil.

“Could I see you work one day? I don’t think I’ve ever done that, baby” you say, in awe of her talent.

“I don’t know, I might get too nervous”

“Please?” you pout, hoping that will change her mind. Wanda rolls her eyes and leans forward, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss you. Her movements turn more frantic and she catches you off guard when she pushes you against the small sofa, straddling your lap.

“Tell me more about her”

“About who?” you say, completely lost in the way her shirt strains against her breasts.

“That new doctor”

“Natasha?” you blink, trying to form a coherent thought. “Why?”

“Because. You’re working a lot, and apparently it’s next to a very beautiful woman whose name I hadn’t heard up until I saw you walking out of a room together”

“We were just talking” you mumble, more focused on undoing the buttons on Wanda’s shirt. She takes your wrists and pulls them away, forcing you to look up.

“I hope she knows your girlfriend is incredibly possesive and jealous” she whispers against your lips. “Or I might have to remind you who you belong to”

“I haven’t forgotten” you promise, looking at her lips intently.

“Then show me” Wanda says, her nails digging in your scalp. Whatever you were about to say dies in your lips as she kisses you, biting your lip and making you forget your name. You open your mouth, allowing her to explore it with her tongue and you carry her to the desk, pushing away everything so she can sit on it.

Wasting no time, Wanda holds her hips up so you can pull down her pants and underwear, and you kneel, moaning against her center when you begin to eat her out, desperate for her taste.

It feels like forever since you’ve had the chance to worship her body.

“That’s it” she moans as you bite the inside of her thigh, pleased with the way her legs close around your head. “I’m gonna…”

“Hold it”

“No, please”

“Did I fucking stutter? God, you are so impatient” you say, squeezing her throat as you move up, sliding two fingers inside her wet cunt. “Why can’t you just let me fuck you?”

“Oh, God” she says, getting wetter at your words.

“I think you’re the one who’s forgetting her place, baby” you say, hitting her G spot over and over until she can’t speak.

“Fuck” Wanda sighs, biting your neck as she finally gets her release. You kiss her, muffling her moans until her breathing evens out. “I missed that”

“Mhm” you smile, letting Wanda taste herself in your lips. “Come on. Let’s go to bed”

As you get changed and clean up, your phone pings several times.

“Work?” Wanda asks, but you’re smiling as you type.

“Huh? No, not work” is all you say, getting in bed and kissing Wanda. “Night, baby”

“Goodnight” she says, watching the screen of your phone light up again. You don’t notice because you’re already asleep, exhausted.

Wanda has to resist the urge to look at the text you just got.

You’ve never given her a reason to doubt you.

And yet, as she goes to bed, looking at your sleeping shape, Wanda can’t help but feel, there’s a part of you that’s not being honest.

[ashthesalamipiece]

hello!! i hope you're doing well!!

idk if this is going to make sense but,, i request a katsuki x reader; the reader got hit by a quirk that makes her tell the truth about what she thinks of anyone she sees/hears for a whole day, so the entire time she's spilling nice yet harshly honest thoughts about the others in class 1-a whenever she sees them or hears their voices, and when it's katsuki's turn she very obviously hints on having a crush on him despite how hot-headed he is, which makes katsuki veryy proud (since he lowkey has a crush on her too) and he claims that they are dating now - the next day, y/n literally doesn't remember what happened the day before, but she isnt complaining now that katsuki and her are dating..

“No Takebacks”

It started with a bang—literally.

During a joint training exercise with a support course student who hadn’t quite nailed down their quirk yet, you were caught in a flash of bright pink smoke and instantly dropped to your knees, blinking wildly.

“(Y/N)?!” Uraraka rushed over. “Are you okay?”

“I can taste colors,” you mumbled, then squinted at her. “You’re… way too nice. Like suspiciously nice. You’re either a secret serial killer or a Disney princess.”

Uraraka blinked. “...What.”

And that’s when Aizawa groaned and muttered, “Oh god. She’s been hit with Veritas. The truth-spill quirk. She’s gonna be like this for a while.”

---

Hour 1.

You were walking back into the dorms, flanked by Kirishima and Kaminari, when you said cheerfully:

“Kirishima, you’re so sweet I want to punch you. Your energy is like cinnamon buns and gym socks. You should stop wearing that cologne, though. It smells like ‘middle school locker room.’”

He laughed nervously. “Thanks? Wait, what?”

Kaminari opened his mouth but didn’t even get a word out.

“You flirt too much and your Spotify playlists suck.”

“HEY—!”

---

Hour 3.

You walked past Todoroki in the common room and said, completely deadpan, “You’re the most attractive emotionally unavailable person I’ve ever seen.”

Midoriya waved at you next. “Hey, (Y/N)—feeling okay?”

You looked him in the eye. “I love you like a brother, but if you don’t stop overanalyzing every battle move, I’m going to staple your All Might notebooks shut.”

Midoriya paled.

Bakugo had been half-listening from the couch, arms crossed, eyebrow twitching as he watched you cut through the class like a smiling little truth bomb.

He kept waiting for you to say something to him. But you never did.

Which, somehow, pissed him off more.

---

Hour 6.

Finally, during dinner, Bakugo slammed his tray down across from you.

“Alright, spill it. Say whatever dumb truth you’re hiding about me. Let’s go.”

You blinked. Chewed your rice. Then tilted your head.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” you said seriously. “You are hot-headed, loud, and 97% of the time I want to shove a sock in your mouth.”

The class collectively froze.

You kept going.

“But you’re also really strong. And smart. And I like the way you fight. You’re kind of… weirdly hot when you’re focused. I think you’re kinda amazing.”

Bakugo’s eye twitched.

“And I have a really big crush on you,” you said with a shrug. “But you’re also annoying, so it balances out.”

The silence was deafening.

Someone dropped a fork.

Bakugo, smug grin now spreading slow and wide across his face, stood up from his chair and announced, “Cool. We’re dating now.”

“What—?” Kaminari choked.

“She literally just—”

Bakugo shrugged. “She said it. Can’t take it back. Quirk rules.”

You gave a happy little hum. “I would date you.”

“There. See?” He threw an arm around your shoulder and smirked at the room. “Mine now.”

You smiled and nuzzled into his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

---

The Next Morning.

You woke up in your dorm bed with a pounding headache and a foggy memory.

You trudged into the kitchen wearing your oversized hoodie and blinked sleepily when Bakugo handed you a mug of hot tea.

You took it. “Thanks…?”

He smirked and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“Morning, girlfriend.”

You froze. “...What.”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“What happened yesterday?”

“You told everyone the truth for twelve hours.”

You paled. “...Oh no. What did I say?”

Bakugo shrugged. “Called Deku annoying. Said Todoroki’s hot but emotionally dead. Told me you had a thing for me.”

Your eyes went wide. “I—WHAT?!”

Bakugo leaned on the counter, cocky grin in full force. “Too late, babe. You said you’d date me. I claimed you. You can’t unsay it.”

You opened your mouth to protest—but then paused.

He looked so damn pleased with himself.

“…You’re not wrong,” you muttered.

He grinned. “Thought so.”

---

Bonus:

You later found a list in your notes app titled “Quirk Day Chaos” that you apparently started, featuring:

Kaminari: “Spotify war criminal.”

Iida: “Talks like Microsoft Word reads aloud.”

Bakugo: “Infuriatingly hot. Unfair.”

You smiled down at it.

Okay… maybe truth quirks weren’t so bad after all.

[scribbly-squid]

Oblivious | Lucifer Imagine

Lucifer x Sinner Reader

Imagine: Angel Dust having to explain to Lucifer after the fact that you were flirting with the fallen angel.

Masterlist

“You must be the King of Hell,” you said, your voice warm and calm as you looked up from your book. Your gaze shifted to the towering, sharp-dressed figure standing beside Angel Dust, the two of them making quite the striking pair. You closed the book slowly, savoring the moment, and slid the glossy brochure Angel had shoved into your hands earlier—a vivid, glittering advertisement for one of Hell’s more notorious clubs—between the pages as a makeshift bookmark. Rising from your seat, you smoothed your outfit and crossed the room with easy confidence. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Y/N.”

Lucifer’s crimson eyes flicked to you, his expression carefully neutral at first. For someone nicknamed the King of Hell, he seemed surprisingly… reserved. After a brief pause, his lips curved into a polite, faintly nervous smile as he extended his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, his deep voice velvety smooth but tinged with something you could only describe as hesitation. “And please, drop the formalities. I’m not really a fan of those.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, your curiosity about the infamous King of Hell growing by the second. “I can see where Charlie gets it from,” you quipped, and his smirk grew slightly, a glimmer of pride flickering in his eyes.

“She’s told me a bit about you,” Lucifer admitted, his tone light but cautious. His gaze flicked briefly to Angel Dust, who stood a few feet behind him, clearly struggling to suppress whatever sarcastic comment was threatening to escape. “So, Charlie mentioned you had some questions for me?”

“I do,” you replied, nodding enthusiastically as you clasped your hands behind your back. “First question: is it some kind of prerequisite for fallen angels to be ridiculously handsome?”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you watched as Lucifer blinked, his composure slipping ever so slightly. For a being of his stature and reputation, he looked… flustered. A quiet, nervous laugh escaped him as he rubbed the back of his neck, his crimson eyes darting anywhere but at you. “Well, uh…” he began, his voice catching slightly, “every angel is unique, so we all end up with different traits. There’s no, uh, official requirement to be... ‘good-looking.’” He paused, giving a small, self-deprecating shrug. “But I suppose many of us are rather fortunate in that regard.”

Behind him, Angel Dust failed spectacularly to keep his composure. He let out a sharp snicker, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth as his shoulders shook with laughter. “Fortunate, huh?” Angel repeated, his tone oozing with mockery. He waggled his eyebrows at you, his pink eyes glinting with mischief. “Don’t let him fool ya, honey—he knows exactly how good he looks.”

Lucifer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he’d heard this a thousand times before. “Thank you for that, Angel,” he muttered dryly.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, but you did your best to maintain your composure. Clearing your throat, you glanced back at your book, needing something to ground yourself. “Right, well, thanks for clearing that up,” you said, doing your best to sound nonchalant even as your heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. “Anyway, I should go get ready for one of Charlie’s exercises. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Lucifer nodded, his polite smile returning, though you caught the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. “Of course. Good luck with that.”

As you turned to leave, you risked a quick glance over your shoulder at Angel Dust, who was practically vibrating with suppressed laughter. His grin was so wide it practically split his face in two. He blew you an exaggerated kiss, winking at you as if to say, Told you so.

You raised an eyebrow at him, shooting him a look that said, You weren’t kidding. Angel only doubled down on his smug expression, twirling a strand of his hair around one clawed finger like a lovestruck teenager. It didn’t hurt that Angel was right—Lucifer was ridiculously handsome. Though you were certain you’d never hear the end of it from Angel Dust.

Lucifer leaned against the bar, his crimson eyes lost in thought. Angel Dust, turned around with a smug grin plastered across his face.

“You good there, big guy?” Angel teased, tapping his nails against the bar. “You’ve been staring at that wine like it’s got all the answers to life’s mysteries. Lemme guess—you’re thinkin’ about what Y/N said, huh?”

Lucifer sighed, barely glancing up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Angel snorted, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please,” he drawled, sliding closer on his barstool. “Don’t play dumb with me, Lucifer. Y/N was totally flirting with you earlier, and you just stood there like a clueless puppy. It was adorable, really.”

Lucifer frowned, looking genuinely confused. “Flirting? She wasn’t flirting. She was asking questions.”

“Uh-huh.” Angel gave him a deadpan look. “Sure. Because ‘Is it a prerequisite for fallen angels to be ridiculously handsome?’ is just a totally innocent question, right? Definitely not laced with any, ya know, subtext.”

Lucifer straightened up, his expression shifting as the realization started to dawn on him. “Wait… you think that was…?” He trailed off, the faintest hint of pink dusting his pale cheeks.

Angel couldn’t hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing, throwing his head back as his shoulders shook with delight. “Oh, my God, you’re hopeless! She was flirting so hard I almost felt secondhand embarrassment, and you—you just stood there, giving her a freakin’ lecture about angelic traits. Classic.”

Lucifer groaned, pinching between his eyes. “I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t realize…”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Angel said, wiping a tear from his eye as his laughter died down. “Listen, babe, next time she hits you with a line like that, maybe try something like, ‘Well, what do you think?’ instead of looking like you’re buffering, alright?”

Lucifer shot him a withering glare. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Angel grinned, leaning his chin on his hand. “But hey, don’t worry. I’ll coach you if you need it. After all, it’d be a real shame if you let someone like her slip through your fingers just ‘cause you’re too busy bein’ all stoic and mysterious.”

Lucifer didn’t respond, but the thoughtful look on his face spoke volumes. Angel’s grin widened.

“Y’know,” Angel added with a wink, “for a guy who’s literally the King of Hell, you sure are terrible at recognizing when someone’s into you. Just sayin’."

[junwritten]

the space between the shadows

⎯⎯⎯⎯ WHEREIN:

y/n watches a horror movie with yeonjun and laughs it off—until the quiet of night feels too loud and the shadows too real.

“come here,” he says, soft and simple. “you don’t have to pretend with me.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯ pairing: yeonjun x f!reader

⎯⎯⎯⎯ genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

⎯⎯⎯⎯ warnings: nightmares, sleep deprivation, vulnerability, comforting physical touch (cuddling, forehead kisses), unspoken feelings

MDNI | txt masterlist

it starts with a stupid movie.

“it’s not even scary,” you scoff, curling your legs up onto the couch as a bloodied hand bursts through the screen in a flash of cheap cgi. yeonjun snorts beside you, arm draped casually across the backrest, fingers tapping lightly against the cushion near your shoulder.

“you literally jumped like five times already,” he teases.

“i did not.”

he just smiles—one of those annoying, knowing ones—and you nudge his knee with your own to hide the way your heart stutters. the room is dark, the only light from the tv flickering across his face, casting soft shadows that make everything feel a little too intimate. too close.

you tell yourself it’s fine. friends can sit close. friends can make fun of each other. friends can pretend that their stomach doesn’t twist when he yawns and his shirt rides up just enough to show skin.

you don’t realize until later how fast everything quiets down once the movie ends. how cold it suddenly feels without his laughter filling the space.

⸻

you lie awake for an hour. then two.

every time you close your eyes, the sharp snap of bones or the ghostly whispers from the movie seem to echo in your head. stupid. it was just a movie. but the silence feels suffocating, and the shadows on your ceiling twist into shapes that make your pulse race.

you try breathing exercises. music. reading a fanfic that’s supposed to lull you to sleep—but none of it works.

your phone screen glows when you check the time. 3:12 a.m.

your finger hovers over yeonjun’s name in your messages.

you shouldn’t. it’s late. it’s just a movie. but your chest is tight and you feel like if you stay alone in this silence for one more second, you’ll shatter.

before you can talk yourself out of it, you type:

“you up?”

he replies in less than a minute.

“yeah. what’s wrong?”

you hesitate.

then:

“can’t sleep.”

“movie’s messing with my head. sorry.”

his response is almost immediate again:

“want me to come over?”

your breath catches.

“yes. please.”

⸻

ten minutes later, there’s a soft knock on your door.

you open it to see him in sweatpants and a hoodie, hair a mess, eyes warm. like this isn’t strange at all. like coming over at 3 a.m. because you can’t sleep is just… normal.

you step aside, and he walks in without saying anything. he doesn’t have to. his presence already feels like relief.

“didn’t think it’d get to you that bad,” he says lightly, dropping his bag near the foot of your bed. you shrug, arms wrapped around yourself.

“it’s dumb. i know.”

“not dumb,” he says, gently. “your brain just works overtime sometimes.”

“like you know my brain.”

“i know you.”

you glance away, heart lurching.

he notices. of course he does.

“y/n,” he says, softer now. “hey. it’s okay. you wanna talk about it?”

you shake your head. “just… stay?”

he nods without hesitation. “always.”

⸻

you crawl under the covers first. he hesitates only a second before joining you, sliding in beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. like you haven’t been friends for years without ever crossing this line.

his warmth bleeds into your side instantly.

for a while, there’s nothing but the sound of his breathing and the soft rustle of sheets. and you think maybe that’s enough.

but you still can’t sleep. your body’s tense. your heart’s racing. your brain keeps whispering: this isn’t real. he doesn’t feel what you feel. don’t get used to this.

you try to stay still, but he shifts beside you.

“you’re not asleep,” he murmurs.

“how do you know?”

“you’re holding your breath.”

you exhale shakily. “…sorry."

“don’t apologize.”

his hand moves under the blanket, reaching for yours. his fingers brush your knuckles, then gently thread through yours. the touch is warm. grounding.

“do you want to talk about what’s really bothering you?” he asks.

you’re quiet for a moment. then you whisper:

“i hate feeling weak.”

he’s silent.

“i know it’s just a movie. i know it’s not real. but tonight, i can’t make it shut off. and it makes me feel… broken.”

yeonjun turns on his side to face you. his hand tightens around yours.

“you’re not broken,” he says, firm. “you feel things deeply. that’s not weakness. that’s strength.”

you blink hard. your throat aches.

“you always say the right thing.”

“only because i mean it."

you meet his eyes—and it’s like the air shifts. there’s something raw there, something you’ve both been pretending doesn’t exist for far too long.

you open your mouth. close it. open it again.

“do you ever…” you trail off, unsure. “do you ever wish we were more?”

he breathes in, sharp.

“every night,” he says.

you freeze.

he reaches up slowly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. his hand lingers near your jaw.

“but i didn’t want to lose what we had. i didn’t want to risk you pulling away.”

“i never would,” you whisper.

“then let me hold you.”

he pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping around you like you’re something fragile and beloved. like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.

you press your face into his hoodie and finally let yourself breathe.

his voice is low, murmured into your hair.

“i’ve got you. nothing’s gonna hurt you while i’m here.”

you believe him.

and for the first time that night, the shadows stop moving.

[reverie-starlight]

kenma for the soul <3

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. this was in my drafts for so long that I forgot abt it. based off of my own routine when I get a panic attack. I believe I wrote the bulk of this after one, actually.

warnings: depictions of a panic attack, my own personal coping methods (I swear they make sense in my head) and kenma being soft for you. this was edited at like 2 am so if there’s some mistakes… no there’s not.

it’ll pass.

you know that. you’ve known that for years, actually, yet somehow the sentiment doesn’t hold up in the moments you need it to the most.

kenma watches as you switch between sitting on the edge of the bed with him and pacing the length of your bedroom.

he really feels for you. he still gets panic attacks from time to time, after all, so he knows the basics of what you’re going through like the back of his hand.

he’s still trying to learn your specifics, though.

he’s observant and he’s strategic. with those skills, he’s gathered that you do not respond well to sitting still and taking deep breaths.

you continue pacing and wringing your fingers together, clenching and unclenching your fists and shaking your arms out (he recognizes this as literally trying to dispel the panic from your body).

he watches you closely, wanting to figure you out as soon as possible so he can utilize his strategic side and end your suffering. are you trying to tire yourself out? why is it that you don’t find the breathing exercises useful? why doesn’t sitting still and meditating benefit you?

oh… of course, why didn’t he think of that sooner?

you don’t like those coping methods because you see it as another opportunity to focus on your trigger. by trying to stop it, you just end up thinking about it more. they require you to be aware of every sensation in your body, but if you’re moving around a lot instead, it acts as a distraction.

so he’ll need to help you redirect your train of thought some more.

“babe,” he calls out quietly, not having the energy or willingness to be any louder at two in the morning.

you don’t stop pacing, but you look at him and nod to let him know you’re listening.

“let’s go to the kitchen.”

you blink as he gets up and takes your hand, leading you out of your bedroom. he hopes the change of scenery and mystery of what he has planned brings you out of your head a bit.

“kenma-“ you start, voice raw from the crying you did earlier.

“do you want to make cookies?”

you watch as he goes to the fridge and gets some water and ice cubes. (he read once that the ice can shock you out of panic and act as a good redirection strategy.)

you take the glass when he hands it to you and allow the chill of the ice ground you a bit.

your head feels clearer now. the panic had mostly subsided well before you were led out of the bedroom, but you had continued pacing anyway.

in your mind it makes sense- relaxing too soon, when it’s not quite gone, gives it the chance to come back and restart the cycle all over again. tiring yourself out and distracting yourself with the familiar movement patterns that helped stopped it in the first place…

it’s always worked for you.

and now, sitting up on the barstool by the kitchen island with kenma, you definitely feel the exhaustion.

so you shake your head. “no, I’m too tired, babe.”

he nods, successfully getting a read on your energy level. “okay,” he says. “drink your water, I can make toast for us.”

you blink at him. “why?”

he shrugs. “you must’ve worked up an appetite with all that walking, right? I got winded just watching you.”

you snort, surprisingly, and the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit. “I guess so… oh but kenma, I kept you up, you must be tired too.”

he gets the bread ready to put into the toaster and glances at you over his shoulder. “you do realize you’re dating someone who once streamed for twenty-four hours straight, right? one late night is nothing.”

you sip your water and hold an ice cube in your cheek, letting it melt. “still, I’m-“

“and don’t apologize. I know that’s what you were about to do.”

you sheepishly look down into your glass and let the silence linger until he presents you some buttered toast. “remember how I told you I used to get really bad panic attacks in high school? the ones I get now aren’t nearly as intense as those, but I do still know how draining they are,” he rips off a chunk of bread and feeds it to you. “it’s not too much to care for you, okay?“ he knows the feeling of being afraid to be a burden well, too, unfortunately.

you smile and knock your head against his as you chew. “thanks, kenma. I love you.”

there’s still a lot he has to learn for you, but he knows that if this were a video game, it’d be the easiest level he’d ever complete.

“love you too. now let’s finish this and get to bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@dira333 some kenma :3

[killerblueeyesxprettybluedude]

derek’s half-dead by the time mom’s satisfied with his responses. for this time, at least. somehow, every full moon is different. but he’s healing, that’s what’s important. that, and that it’ll be almost a month before he has another night like this. but that’s just part of being a born wolf, a hale descendant. you have to be strong, and ready.

mom doesn’t believe in doing anything halfway. 

the anger and adrenaline get derek as far as stiles’ house before exhaustion and pain take over. he manages a few dragging steps forward, only just grabbing the doorknob in time to keep himself from doubling over. 

but stiles already knows, somehow, even with human hearing. that, or derek’s attempt at a subtle escape was a lot louder than he realized. 

���derek? oh my god.” 

he’s stronger than a human should be, too, catching derek before he can fall through the suddenly opened door, even as he takes in what’s been happening like he’s documenting evidence in his mind, and then shakes his head, just draws him closer. 

"when are you gonna catch a break, huh?" he says, but it’s not really a question, and derek doesn’t have an answer for him. “most-bloodied werewolf award winner! three years running. and literally running! hey.”

the grin lights up his face, derek going warm before stiles’ eyes scan his wounds again, and his mouth goes tight and angry. 

maneuvering derek through the hall, up the stairs, his jaw only keeps tightening.

“don’t even try collapsing on my floor,” he says, when they finally make it to his bedroom. “i think my dad the sheriff might pick up on the recurring you-shaped silhouette in blood on the carpeting. bed it is, no arguing.”

derek doesn’t argue. the less he has to talk at all, the better. now that he’s here, and safe, and healing, there’s not a single part of what happened tonight that he wants to explain. 

but of course, stiles is already halfway there. 

“new big bad wolf in town?” he says. derek says nothing. “no, you’d already be warning me. did someone, like, lose control?” 

derek shuts his eyes. 

“and you would’ve told me if something’s after your family,” stiles says. “you wouldn’t even come here, you’d find deaton. or peter, or someone strong. is your mom out of town again?”

it’s always been easy to lie to stiles about that. derek nods. 

“what is that, like every third week now?” stiles says. “is there an every-full-moon werewolf convention? but like, only for adults.”  

derek shrugs. it’s a very bad idea right now. stiles’ eyes widen too quickly. 

“is your shoulder even attached to the rest of your body? whoa, definitely don’t shrug right now! oh my god.” 

it’s fine. it’s not… it’s healing. 

it helps the healing when it’s worse sometimes. 

“bed,” stiles says. “i need you to lie down, right now. and i’m putting a total moratorium on physical motioning.” 

that’s not gonna work. motioning is a big part of responding. it’s the verbal responses derek tries to avoid sometimes. 

you can’t really get in trouble for moving. 

“trouble, huh?” stiles says. “what’re you getting in trouble for?”

see, and this is why derek tries not to talk. 

“your mom is out of town, right?” stiles says, and derek focuses on trying not to shrug. “not… up to her old tricks, or anything.”

“her old tricks,” derek says, and stiles says, “laura’s told me some stuff.” 

laura. that’s not… no one needs to know about their family. and if mom finds out laura’s been complaining to a human about it? like she hasn’t explained it, how humans see training, and discipline, and exercises to strengthen your control, they don’t understand how bad it’s needed. or that werewolves can heal, anything, and that less damage is more dangerous sometimes. and obviously, if it was happening to stiles, that’d be… but that’s because he can’t heal like derek can. 

it’s just that humans would never see it that way. stiles wouldn’t, he’d be outraged. 

which is why derek has no intention of telling him.

he just needs… a break, that’s all. a safe place. and it’s still the full moon, isn’t it? so he’s still practicing his control. just… a little bit more comfortably, for a while. 

isn’t testing every possible situation supposed to be the point? well, this is another one. and honestly? a way more important one to focus on, in derek’s opinion. staying in control around stiles. in stiles’ bedroom. 

there are a lot of scenarios mom hasn’t even tried to prepare him for. being hunted, fine, that’s the main one, that’s important. except—would it really matter if he shifted, at that point? if he was chained up already. 

but she’s the alpha, so it doesn’t really matter what derek thinks. 

he kind of hides his face in stiles’ pillow for a while. 

“better?” stiles says, and then, “don’t nod. do i have to build you a full-body cast? werewolf-strength.” 

maybe. maybe that’d be better. 

and then… he’d be just as restrainable. without the practice at withstanding torture. not that that’s even been remotely helpful for the times somebody has been targeting him. 

it’s not like you can even really build up a pain tolerance. every time, it’s just as surprising. 

if anything, being constantly ready for it is its own problem. 

“follow-up question,” stiles says. “or no, maybe it’s more of a tangent. why don’t you heal the bags under your eyes? are you just never sleeping?” 

so maybe laura is right about some of it. maybe it doesn’t help, being constantly terrified. maybe that actually just makes you jumpy, and paranoid, and makes every threat and non-threat feel exactly the same, so you just dismiss every over-active warning instinct, and then of course you don’t see the obvious danger that stiles does. that scott can spot in a second, even though he’s spent the last three years of full moons hanging out with his friends, or his human mom, or alone playing video games and studying and having a normal life. 

imagine that! getting to be normal. 

but clearly, alphas just do things differently. 

derek settles in a little more, stiles hesitating at the edge of the bed a few times before turning away, heading back to the chair next to his computer. 

derek was wondering how that was gonna go. 

“you’re gonna sleep in a chair?” he says. “that can’t be healthy.” 

“it’s a twin bed, you know,” stiles says. “and i wouldn’t wanna, like, move weird in my sleep and break your bones as they’re re-healing.” 

“i’ll take the risk,” derek says, and stiles’ eyes go warm. 

“are you sure? it’s really not a sharing bed.” 

there is genuinely nothing derek’s ever cared about less in his life. “one way to find out, i guess.” 

“yeah,” stiles says. “scientific method. you can’t just blindly trust your assumptions, you gotta go in and test things.” 

sure. derek moves sideways a little bit. it only hurts a moderate amount. 

and it’s better, once stiles is close to him. stiles wrapping an arm around him, it’s a million times better. 

“why did we not try this a million years ago?” stiles says, and lays his hand on derek’s shoulder to still it before he shrugs. “this is unbelievably cozy. i regret literally every second of sleeping alone.” 

only stiles’ hand on his shoulder keeps derek from shrugging again. “so, yeah. put that in your calendar.” 

so he does know, maybe. all of it, without derek having to explain. no, it’s not… my mom’s great. i love my family. 

it’s just full moons. he can just not be there for full moons, he can be with stiles. 

it doesn’t have to mean he’s rejecting his pack, or his training. at the end of the day, if he can just prove that he has control… well, thanks for the lessons and everything, but i think i can take it from here, after all that. oh yeah, that was a huge help. definitely. 

i just, i think i’m ready to move on to real-life practice, from now on.   

he’ll figure it out. the right balance of normal teenage defiance and deference, the exact wording. 

and maybe stiles’ll help him with it. if he really does know as much about full moons in the hale household as derek is starting to think he does. 

“is laura okay?” stiles says. “does she have somewhere to go? if it gets this bad. can she even get out?” 

derek almost shrugs again. stiles scrubs at his shoulder, and derek’s eyes burn. 

laura’s usually a little bit better at helping with it. cooling things down, or taking a lot of the attention. 

but, she’s in college now. testing out her control in the real world. 

and derek could’ve come with her, if he wanted, but… that would’ve felt too much like running away. 

and besides, he has ties here. stiles, and scott, and isaac, and… stiles, especially. 

and anyway, he’s not like laura. he loves his mom. just because he doesn’t agree with every little thing she does doesn’t mean he wants to cut her out completely. 

even if, more and more, he’s starting to understand that decision.

somehow, he says some of that. and somehow, that’s enough to go back to not talking. to not having to, and to stiles dipping in closer against him, saying, “i think we should institute a curfew, from now on. at least before full moons. i’ll pick you up at like five? unless you have a game, or something.”

“i don’t understand why everyone in beacon hills is obsessed with lacrosse,” derek says, relieved to be on a safer topic. “can you even name a pro lacrosse athlete? seriously.”  

“you’re preaching to the choir,” stiles says, but even he’s obsessed with baseball. which makes more sense than lacrosse, sure, but it just makes him one more person derek can bore to tears by talking about the sport he actually plays. 

“you should come to a game,” derek says. “i’ll make it interesting.”

“ball in hoop, sounds fun,” stiles says, and derek rolls his eyes. 

“it’s a lot more than that.” 

“sure it is,” stiles says, and derek says, “come to a game. you’ll see.”

“only if i get to talk your ear off about baseball afterwards,” stiles says, and derek says, “you do that anyway.”

“even more, i mean.” 

“deal,” derek says, and stiles says, “i could tell my dad, you know. he’d move so fast… you shouldn’t have to sneak out to get away from it.”

but it’s not gonna be like that. not anymore. 

“with our curfew,” stiles says, and derek nods. “our sleep-overs.”

and once they graduate, derek will go wherever stiles goes. and it won’t mean anything about his mom, hiding from her, it’ll be about stiles. just like it always would’ve been, even if his home life was different. 

derek’s feeling a lot better. a lot better, suddenly. 

it’s barely about the healing.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hey! I saw your post about requests and I have one (I will try to keep it short):

Reader feeling self-conscious after having a baby so they start to work out only for Eddie to watch like 🤤🤤 which makes them stop being insecure because he’s still clearly very attracted to this body. 

Can be smutty or not, your choice.

If that’s not your thing no worries, have a happy Saturday! 

Ooh, I love this one! Thanks so much for the request, lovely!

cw: MDNI (18+) unprotected sex (please don’t do this) body insecurity, mention of pregnancy, hurt comfort

husband!Eddie x wife!reader

It had been a couple of months since you had your baby and you hadn’t even thought of anything but her for the first few weeks. After you had gotten into a rhythm with Eddie of taking care of the baby, it gave you more time to think about things. Like the chores that had piled up. Your job that you needed to get back to. Your body.

It had been months and you had done anything to get it back to what it was before you had Charlotte. Eddie hadn’t said a word about it, but you were sure that he wasn’t in love with the way you looked, especially since there was a bunch of loose skin. Maybe that was why he hadn’t had sex with you since you the baby had come.

Because of that, you decided to work out in your home gym while Eddie was at work. You put on your usual working out set which and noticed that it fit differently. The bra was a little tight and the shorts were shorter than you had anticipated. But, it was all you had, so you shrugged it off and headed down the stairs to work out.

The gym that you had spent so much time in suddenly looked intimidating. You hadn’t been in it since you had gotten pregnant since you didn’t have the energy, but now you were ready.

You put on your headphones and blasted the mix you usually played when exercising and began to stretch. You bent over and took a deep breath as you touched your toes. You then stood back up before bending back over and jumped when you felt a pair of hands grab your ass.

You whipped around and removed your headphones, turning to see your husband, Eddie standing behind you. He was still in his mechanic uniform and had soot on his face and all over his hands. He put his hands up in defense and stepped away to give you your space but you stepped forward.

“What’ya doin’?” He asked, taking the time to check you out in your very tight outfit. The way your bra pushed up your tits and the way your shorts hugged your ass in all the right places. God, you still had it.

“Working out. Is that a problem?” You put your hands on your hips, anger coursing through you.

“Not a problem at all, hon. I just-you’ve been a bit on edge lately.” You weren’t surprised that he noticed. He always payed so much attention to you.

“Of course I’m on edge, Eddie! Look at me!”

“I’m looking, honey,” he took you into his arms. “and I don’t see any issues.”

“Oh really?” You asked, pulling away from him, moving your hands to the lose skin of your stomach. “This isn’t an issue?”

“Not at all. You’re my honey and I-I love you just the way you are.” Eddie dropped to his knees and pressed multiple kisses to your stomach and hearing your laugh was music to his ears. “See? Love you and your stomach, bub.”

“Okay,” you laughed. “Okay, I get it. Now kiss me, please?”

“Already kissing you.” He pressed more kisses to the skin and it was cruelly making you feel better. Almost as if it was magic.

“I meant my lips,” you rolled your eyes. Even in a sweet moment, the man was so unserious.

“Which ones?” He looked back up at you with a wink.

“The ones on my face.”

“Gotta be specific. Could kiss every inch of you.” You knew that was true and almost wanted him to.

“I know you could.”

Eddie stood to his feet and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a sweet kiss, his lips capturing yours. Yours went to his waist, wrapping around them tight. As his lips moved with yours, all you could think about was his comment about kissing you everywhere. Maybe you’d take him up on it. That would surely do the trick to make you feel better.

You pulled away and he tried to chase your lips, but you kept your distance, wanting time to speak before he pulled you in again. He was always so good at doing that. Especially when you were in one of your silly arguments. He was always able to make you forget what you were even arguing about just with his lips.

“So um, about you kissing every inch of me…”

“You want me to?” Eddie’s face lit up and it made your knees weak at how excited he still was to please you after all those years.

“Please,” you begged and he was quick to pull you in for another kiss before his lips moved to your cheek and then your other one. Your chin. Your forehead. He then moved to your jaw and down your neck.

He got to your shoulder and moved your bra strap out of the way to get more access to it. He then moved to the other side to give it the same attention. His movements were slow and sweet and you could feel yourself getting wet at the feeling of his lips on your skin.

Once he was done with your chest, you lifted your arms up and Eddie pulled your bra off and his eyes widened as he caught sight of your tits.

“Fuck, honey,” he gasped, looking down at your chest. “You’re so fucking hot. Shit.” He bent down and licked a stripe across one of your nipples before bringing it into his mouth before giving it a suck while swirling his tongue around it. He then moved to the other one and did the same thing, wanting to give it the same attention.

“Oh,” you moaned. “So good, Eds.” He kissed all the way down to your stomach and pulled down your shorts to reveal your pussy. He lowered you to the floor and helped you removed your socks and shoes before fully taking off your shorts and tossing them behind him.

You slowly unzipped his uniform and helped him remove it before taking off his boxers and throwing them aside. You were so desperate for him that you didn’t even care about a condom. You would have been so happy if you turned out to have another baby. So lucky.

“Don’t have a condom,” he shrugged. “But I can go get one.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you pointed at him. “Need you so fucking bad, baby,” you whined.

“But what if-”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, already knowing what he was going to say.

“So you don’t care about getting pregnant again?”

“Now that you’ve assured me that you really do love me unconditionally, of course I don’t care. Now please fuck me.”

“What the princess wants, the princess gets,” he winked and slowly thrusted into you, both of you moaning at the feeling of his bare cock inside of you.

He moved slow and steady and you couldn’t believe that you had actually gone so many months without him inside of you. It felt so good and he always knew exactly what you wanted before you did.

“Oh, Eddie,” you moaned and he smiled at the sound that he had missed so much. “Fuck, baby, right there, yeah.”

“Look at you,” he took your face in one of his hands and turned your face towards the mirror, forcing you to look into it. “See how fucking hot you look underneath me? Look at you taking me so well, doll.” You watched the two of you fuck in the mirror and were even more turned on, feeling yourself getting even more wet as you watched your bodies move together.

Eddie reached just to right spot and you turned back to him, your back arching in euphoria as you reached your climax, screaming his name as you did so. Afterwards, he pulled you to your feet and cleaned the two of you up before carrying you up the stairs so you both could take a much needed shower.