#Also the kitchen is called ten forward

[mattscoquette]

ACCIDENTALLY CALLING CHRIS DADDY chris sturniolo.

you hadn’t meant to end up in this position. your face was buried in the pillows, your ass pressed back against chris as he snapped his hips forward, holding on to you so tightly it was sure to bruise.

ten minutes ago, you and chris were in the kitchen, attempting to cook dinner for yourselves while you had the house to yourselves for the evening. you were at the counter, reading instructions off your phone as chris gathered all the ingredients needed to prepare your food, when you’d jokingly asked him to grab you something.

you carefully read the ingredients off your phone, going over everything laid out on the counter in front of you. you glanced over at chris as he was in the refrigerator, grabbing the last of what you both needed to make the chicken alfredo.

you hummed to yourself, noticing you were missing the eggs. you smiled, looking over at chris. “daddy,” you called, a grin tugging at your lips, “can you grab the eggs?”

chris’ eyes narrowed as he slowly turned to you. “what did you call me?”

“fuck,” you cried out as chris slammed into you, whines and gasps leaving your lips, “s’good, feels s’good.”

“mhmm, who’s making you feel good?” chris grunted, flattening a palm against your lower back, causing you to arch back into him.

“you,” you gasped, gripping onto the sheets tighter, “you are daddy.”

chris groaned, tossing his head back, lost in the pleasure of your tight walls squeezing around him. “fuck, yeah, that’s right, say it again.”

you whined as you pressed your ass back against chris, his hips snapping forward to meet yours. “daddy, making me feel so good.”

your boyfriend’s thrusts became sloppier, his hands tightening around your hips as he groaned from behind you. “yeah? you gonna be a good girl and let daddy fill you up?”

you moaned loudly with a nod of your head, feeling chris’ hips sputter against you, shooting his cum deep inside of you, your cunt squeezing against him as you also came all over chris’ dick.

he pulled out, flopping down next to you, exhaustion taking over his body as he tugged you close, burying his face against your shoulder blade, peppering it with soft kisses.

you smiled softly, reaching over to scratch his head softly, before he shot up frantically. “we forgot about the dinner in the oven.”

[justauthoring]

Kitchen Encounters

Request: opla sanji !! \/ \/ Requested by: Anonymous

Pairing: OPLA!Sanji Vinsmoke x F!Reader

A/N: I normally don't do requests without actual story ideas but I needed to feed the OPLA!Sanji girlies :)

Word Count: 1,201

You've guessed it - this isn't spell checked :) (Also, Taz looks so good in this GIF???)

"Here. Like this."

You can feel the warmth of Sanji's chest press into your back. His whole body swarms you, enveloping you in his tender embrace. If you weren't you, and you didn't feel the way you did, you imagined this would feel quite lovely.

Calming even.

However, it is the complete opposite for you in that moment. In fact, you're starting to fear that Sanji can feel the erratic race of your heart. You're only thankful he can't see your face all that clearly, because it would be mortifying for him to see just how hot your cheeks have grown.

And it isn't even just the way you can feel the hardness of his chest or how warm he is or how his body swallows you completely -- it's the way his breath dances across the shell of your ear and the side of your neck as he speaks. He's saying what you imagine is important steps to remember for the recipe he's trying to teach you, but you can't even begin to focus on listening.

How could you? When he was making you feel this way?

Eventual, the low hum of his voice stops and you realize that if you don't move, he'll most likely be concerned. So, with shaky hands and barely having heard any of his instructions, you attempt to cut the vegetables.

You can tell it's wrong instantly.

"N-No, love," Sanji cuts in, voice still soft and patient (and still sending shivers down your spine). He reaches forward, still surrounding you, taking the knife from your hands. It's then he notices just how shaky they are.

"Are you nervous?" He asks, and tilts his body so he can look at you from the side. Your eyes meet his, briefly, before you turn away, tucking your chin in in a futile effort not to let him see how flustered you are. "There's no reason to be nervous. I won't--"

"No, no," you cut, maybe a little too desperately. "No, not nervous. Just... um, well, I'm a little cold. That's all."

Sanji finally steps back, and you try not to make the sag of relief your body falls in so obvious. There's a puzzled expression on his face as he glances around the kitchen. "Cold?" He frowns, as if the mere idea of you being cold is the worst thing he can let happen. "I try to keep the kitchen warm... Maybe we should stop. I don't want you to--"

"No," you say, again, cursing yourself for the squeak of your voice. "I-I mean, it's okay, Sanji." You force a smile to your lips, meeting his eyes finally as you gesture back to the ingredients laid out on the table. "I told you I wanted to help with dinner, didn't I? I'd like to continue. If you don't mind."

Sanji hesitates, eyes flickering across your face.

"Are you sure?" He asks, ever the gentleman. "Your face looks a little flushed... Maybe you're coming down with a cold? I can make you some tea."

(It's then you decide you're going to kill Nami for ever convincing you this was a good idea.)

He steps past you, with the intention of dropping everything just for your comfort, but you grab onto him before he can. Your fingers slip around the edge of his sleeve, and he halts instantly, glancing down at you in bafflement.

"I-I'm not sick," you assure, insides twisting with nerves at what you're about to say. This whole idea was crumbling down around you.

Nami had told you this would be a good way of getting to spend more time with Sanji. Also a way to get to know him better. Help him with something he enjoys, she'd suggested, like cooking dinner!

It was a good idea. Great, even. Or, it would be if you could get your feelings for Sanji under control for longer than ten seconds. You just couldn't help it! He was so chivalrous with everything he did. If it wasn't dropping everything and anything for you, it was the way he called you 'love' or the way he'd smile at you.

It never failed to make your heart race and your mind blank.

You'd been in love with the man the very first time your eyes met his way back in the baratie, and you'd been hopeless about it since.

"I just... oh god, this is so embarrassing," you pout, eyes falling to your feet.

Sanji steps towards you, allowing your grip on him to ease as he smiles down at you. "What is it, Y/N?" He asks, voice soft and gentle and so understanding. "What ever it is, you can tell me."

Meeting his eyes, you only see warmth and kindness staring back at you. Sanji is all too patient with you as you work the words out in your brain.

"I just... You make me flustered..." You whisper, avoiding his eyes again. Your free hand clenches, twisting in nerves. "I wanted to spend time with you... but I... please don't make me say it."

There's a echo of silence, eventually, your head tilts back up to look at him, fearing the worse. Only, Sanji's staring down at you with parted lips and wide eyes.

Your heart plummets.

"Oh god, I've made you uncomfortable!" You breathe, panicked as both hands fall to your face, humiliated. "I'm sorry, Sanji. I just--"

Fingers wrap around your wrists, gently prying your hands from your face. Your words fall flat, lips left parted as slowly you see Sanji staring back at you. He's still shocked, but he's shaking his head.

"No, Y/N, I just..." And he hesitates, struggling as you had to find the words. "I just didn't think you'd felt the same as me."

It takes your brain approximately three seconds to process and understand what Sanji's just said. When it does, your eyes widen;

"What?"

"I like you too, Y/N," he breathes, hands still wrapped around your wrists, "if that's what you meant."

Lips parting, you nod. "I... I--yes."

The shock on his face eases into something akin to relief and joy, a gentle smile curling on his lips as he lets go of your hands to brush back a strand of loose hair from your face. You tense at the touch, cheeks warming as you blink up at him.

"I can hardly believe it," he mumbles, eyes crinkling at the corners with happiness. "Now I know why you always get so flustered around me."

You blink, registering that his endearing confession ended with a slight tease at you.

"Hey!" You call, blinking out of your own stupor as he laughs in response. "Don't make fun of me!"

"I wasn't," he assures with ease. "I always thought it was adorable."

You flush even more.

Hands pressing to your face, once again, you let out a whine; "I never should've told you."

Sanji simply just pulls your hands away, again, shaking his head. "I'm glad you did. And don't hide from me. I want to see your pretty face," you let out another cry as Sanji chuckles once more. "Now, should we finish with dinner or are your hands still too shaky?"

"Sanji!"

[bbokicidal]

Ooh, it's a bad habit. | SKZ [OT8]

synopsis: "Bad" habits the boys have in relationships + in general.

Genre: Fluff I guess? Pairing: OT8 x GN!Reader Warnings: Mentions of arguing but nothing depicted Notes: I just enjoy making these types of posts and I'm feeling inspired at 5 AM (YET AGAIN) so enjoy!~

Chan:

Does not answer text messages. Opens it, reads it, gets distracted, does not come back to it until either eight hours later or until you double text him. Hit his ass with the "????" and he'll apologize but otherwise he'll just "oh."

Leaves his little snack wrappers on the kitchen counters. If you don't get to them first, he'll clean them up when he goes into the kitchen next. He just forgets about it in the moment; Man likes his snackies.

Bites the skin around his nails so his cuticles are Lowkey HORRIBLE but if you get him on a cuticle oil that smells nice, he's gonna be like a bitch with a new lipgloss applying that shit every ten minutes.

Hums a lot. Not a bad habit but not the nicest when you're on a phone call and you can hear him humming next to you.

Cannot control his face. Even grows a habit of making certain faces at you when you're either arguing or talking about something he's uncertain about. It annoys you to no end and he tries to stop but fails every time.

Lino:

Doesn't answer, period. You can talk to him for almost five minutes about a subject and he won't hear a single thing because he's on his phone. Selective hearing, apparently.

Will not do something if he does not want to - which can be good, obviously he shouldn't do something if he doesn't feel like it - but when you've made plans and he doesn't want to go last minute it can be really frustrating. He's also incredibly stubborn when it comes to this, too.

Very irritable most of the time, especially after he's just woken up. He will snap if you pester him too much about something but at this point you've grown to understand it's just how he is. He never says anything mean, he never yells, it's just a light raise of his voice and something along the lines of, "Yes, okay! I'll get to it when I get to it!"

Glances at his watch way too fucking much. Man is constantly keeping track of the time - which leads to him complaining that he looked at his watch earlier and it said 4:50, looked at his watch two seconds ago and now it says 4:51.

Doesn't like being at events longer than he's supposed to be. If y'all have dinner with the group and he was ready to go home forty minutes ago, he's going to be pouting and rolling his eyes those entire forty minutes.

Changbin:

Talks with his mouth full. It's cute, because his cheeks pudge out and his lips are all pursed and pouty - but he does it a lot. Especially if someone argues with him while he's eating, he's gonna be pointing and yelling back and food's gonna be flying.

Not a bad habit but purses his lips and expects kisses from you. You know what it means now and always kiss him when you see him do it but at the beginning of your relationship it confused the hell out of you. Why was he making duck lips at you?

Crosses and uncrosses his legs like no other. Sometimes the man cannot sit still in his seat and the moment you notice it, it Lowkey drives you insane. But he also can't cross his legs at his thighs because they're thicker than Hell AND he's got a third leg in the middle so he's always just crossing his ankles and kicking his feet out.

Sitting forward/slouching. Changbin. Cannot. Sit. Up. Straight. ^ Going off the prompt above, he's literally always sitting forward with his elbows on his knees or sitting back in his seat and leaning. It's not horrible but sometimes if he's in interviews or going to award shows you have to remind him to sit up.

Toys with things that are sitting in front of him. He needs stimulation with his hands so if he's got his phone, he's turning it over in his hands; If he's sitting in front of a candle, he's waving his finger over the open flame like an idiot.

Hyunjin:

Picks at his nail polish. He always does the cutest designs and he knows you love when he paints his nails but five seconds later he's either biting at them when he gets anxious or he's picking at the polish until it chips off. He never gets good photos, either.

Chews on his drawing pencils, which is why he's always buying new art supplies. Luckily he gets gifted drawing utensils from a lot of brands he works with on Holidays and his birthday - but a lot of his pencils go to shit because he gnaws on them while he's thinking about his art piece.

Checks his phone a lot. He wants to see if he has messages from you so he's always peeking at his notifications in eager waiting, but if he's with you he's also checking his group chat notifications from he boys. It's not bad, but gets annoying on dates.

Leaves his clothes everywhere. His room is always messy with little piles of clothes and when you move in together, your shared room becomes the same way. He gets better about it when you get on his ass but up until then he's just throwing his shit everywhere.

Twirls his hair around his fingers. Not a bad habit but funny when you pick up on it. He's doing it all the time when he's listening in on conversations, and while he does it he's pursing his lips. Just a drama queen judging other drama queens.

Jisung:

Talks with his hands. He gets real flappy when he's arguing and bickering with people, and he's come real close to hitting you a few times when he stands up from the couch to argue with Hyunjin on the other end. He always apologizes but it'll never stop.

Rubs his eyes a lot, which you have to remind him is bad for 1) his skin, and 2) the company will yell at him. He's gotten better when he's wearing makeup because he doesn't want to mess it up but when he's at home he's always rubbing his face.

Stuttering/Stammering. Especially if you're bickering or you catch him off guard, he cannot get a damn comment out to save his life. He'll try, say the word four times wrong, and then stop to think and then completely lose the thought altogether.

Constantly apologizing. The man is apologizing for everything under the Sun; Being behind you when you move away from the fridge, bumping into you while you do laundry, saying sorry for cutting you off while talking. Most of the things are no big deals and it can get a little frustrating, but it's also a tad endearing.

His eyebrows do not have an off switch. They are always moving. He speaks with his hands, his mouth, and his eyebrows. Which ties into him, most of the time, not being able to control his expressions. Not that he wants to.

Felix:

Messy eating. Man needs like eight napkins when he's eating chicken wings, he fuckin' flies through them like crazy. He's the type that's got sauce all over his fingers, his mouth, staining his chin. He can't help it though and it is kind of cute. Just don't let him near too many finger foods.

Touches his hair all too much. Sometimes he complains his hair looks greasy or messed up and you have to remind him that every five minutes he's pushing it back with his hands - which is why it grows oily so fast. Always pushing it behind his ears, pulling it down over his forehead, touching the ends behind his neck.

Swears like a sailor. Bro has the biggest potty mouth in the group and cannot control it when he gets angry. Most used words are: Wank, Fuck, Shit, and Asshole.

Claps at everything. Not in the verbal way; He actually claps. He claps when he laughs, he claps when someone does something successfully, he claps when he's tired and ready to go to bed. Has a habit of clapping once before he starts talking, usually a "*clap* Alright, well -"

Winks. Wink, wink. Always winking at people. Not strangers, though - Just you and the guys, and on occasion a security guard escorting him through the airport. An eternal flirt who cannot help himself. A natural charmer.

Seungmin:

Rubs the tip of his index finger against the side of his thumb and subsequently gains a callus from it because he can't fucking stop. It doesn't really matter nor does it effect his daily life but it's a little annoying when he's playing guitar. But it also.. kind of.. helps.

Speaking of ^ Brings his guitar everywhere he can. If he is going somewhere and knows he'll have free time to practice or play, he's bringing it with even if it's taking up space in the car and people are tripping over it. That thing goes with him everywhere.

Has a very bad habit of standing and staring - except it's less staring and more glaring. He's not doing it on purpose, nor is he always mad - He just had a perfect RBF and can't help it. But he's always tipping his head down, his eyes are always dark, he's never smiling unless he's actively like - trying. He's just kind of scary. Scary guard dog.

Taps his foot a lot. Not annoying, not a hinderance - just a habit that ends up making his ankle and the top of his foot hurt because he is constantly doing it. It becomes a game though if you pick up on it - He'll tap his foot to a rhythm and you have to guess the song, which is a lot harder than you expect.

Sniffs. Sniffles. Sniffing everything. One of those people who, if he opens something new, sniffs it immediately - even if it isn't food or something that will smell good. Sniffs it anyways.

Jeongin:

Twists the rings he wears around his fingers. Most of them are higher quality and from fancy ass brands so it doesn't matter, but every once in a while he gets a slightly shittier ring and when he twists it, it turns his finger green. And then he ends up pouting while he tries to wash the stain out of his skin.

Constantly licking his lips but not in the way you're thinking. He does this thing specifically where he pushes the tip of his tongue into the corner of his lips while they're parted and then caresses it. With his tongue. He does it a lot and when you pick up on it, you stare every time he does it subconsciously because it is so sexy.

Pulls at his bottom lip when in heavier conversations. Not even heavy topics - just intense or interesting convos. They could be talking about aliens and if he's in deep and thinking about conspiracies and shit, he'll pulling at the skin of his lip. More of a thinking habit than anything but he ends up using tons of chapstick afterwards.

Sticks his tongue out when he gets scolded or complimented. Anytime a comment is directed at him, he sticks his tongue out briefly before smiling. It's more of a teasing habit because it riles the other members up and flusters you - so. He gets away with it.

Pulls childish moves during arguments; Pouts when you're angry with him for something, rolls hie eyes when he's frustrated, puffs his cheeks out when he's thinking of how to retaliate. And absolutely says "Ooh you wanna kiss me so bad!!" when the two of you are bickering.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek @pixie-felix @hwangjoanna

[moonstruckme]

Hii i have a request for doctor!remus or maybe emt!marauders (whichever you think goes best) with clumsy reader who is constantly covered in mystery bruises and maybe she bumps her head a lot in a just a few days between them and they find out bc they feel or see the bump or they see her bump her head and maybe gives herself a concussion ?? This is kinda what happened to me a few days ago when i smacked my head really hard and then yesterday at an appartement sighting right infront of the previous tenants and the real estate agent 😩 and i remember walking home and seeing like these white spots you see after hitting your head, you know?? And thinking oh if the boys where here they would be scolding me soo hard but also the coddling i just wanted to be wrapped up by them 😭

Oh god sorry for the long unnecessary and embarrassing backstory 😅

And ofcourse you only have to write this if you want to !! Hope you have a great day 💗🫶🏻

Thanks for the request lovely, hope your head is okay!!

cw: concussion

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 658 words

Sirius watches you, nearly falling asleep against Remus’ side at one in the afternoon. You’ve been in a funny mood all day, only wanting to lie around with the curtains drawn and watch films you hardly seem to be paying attention to. It’s not very much like you, but your boyfriends are more than happy to go along with it. Remus has been half drifting off too, while James keeps going back and forth between the kitchen to make more snacks and Sirius sits with your legs across his lap. 

“Is your head still hurting you, lovie?” James asks as he sits down again, probably only for another ten minutes. 

You hum discontentedly. 

Remus responds by holding you to him as he leans forward, taking your water bottle from the coffee table. “Drink some more,” he tells you, voice rough with drowsiness. 

Sirius watches vigilantly as you take a few slow sips. You look tired and put out, but your expression eases into something closer to contentment when Remus pets your hair approvingly. Sirius sees the moment your boyfriend’s brow furrows. His frown as he looks down at your head, moving his hand over the same spot again. 

“Dove, what happened here?” 

“Hm?” You look up at him, but then Remus must press down slightly because your expression pinches. “Ow.” 

“What is it?” Sirius scoots closer. James leans forward in his chair, too.

“There’s a bump on the side of her head,” Remus says worriedly. He’s trying to part your hair to see better. “Can you lean forward for me, love?” 

Sirius sets a hand on your shoulder, encouraging you to bend over and murmuring a thanks when you do. While Remus tries to turn on his phone flashlight, he brushes his fingers gently over your head. You inhale, and his heart flinches. 

“Sorry.” He kisses your hair consolingly. “Do you remember bumping it?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh, as though the mere memory exhausts you. “I knocked it on a cabinet yesterday at work.” 

“You knocked it hard?” James stands up, peering over Remus’ shoulder as he inspects your head. 

“It felt hard at the time, yeah.” 

“Angel, why didn’t you say anything? You ought to have called us after a bump like that.” 

You shrug. Sirius can see you looking sheepishly into your lap. “It was embarrassing, and it didn’t seem very bad. It’s fine now, just a bit sore.” 

“But you have a headache,” Remus says dubiously, “and you’ve been tired ever since.” 

You hesitate. “Yeah, but…” 

“Can you look up here for me?” Sirius touches under your chin, prompting you to sit back up. He holds up his flashlight, making sure you see it before clicking it on. 

Though it shouldn’t be a surprise, you flinch hard, your face scrunching with the force of your squint. Sirius clicks the light off. 

He kisses the space between your brows. “I think you’ve given yourself a mild concussion, sunshine.” 

“Really?” you ask, bemused, at the same time as James makes a horribly dejected sound and leans over for a hug. 

“Our poor sweetheart,” he laments, bent over awkwardly with his arms around you. “No wonder you’ve been feeling so odd today, hm? We really shouldn’t be letting you watch TV while your brain’s trying to recover.” 

“No, we shouldn’t,” Remus agrees, reaching for the remote and switching it off. “How do you feel about a nap, dovey? You’ve seemed sleepy.” 

“That’s a good idea.” Sirius mushes another kiss into your temple. “It might help a bit with your headache, and I know Remus would nap with you.”

You hesitate. James tightens his hold and Remus strokes the hair near your injury, each of your boyfriends desperate to dote on you in their own ways. “Sure,” you say. “That could be nice.” 

“There you go, lovie,” James says approvingly. “If you hadn’t wanted to cuddle with our Rem, then we would’ve had to really worry about your head.”

[indigoez]

“𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙣 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚…𝙇𝙄𝙏𝙀𝙍𝘼𝙇𝙇𝙔!” | 𝙉𝙍𝙆

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: niki x gn! reader

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: pure fluff, silly times

𝗮/𝗻: i randomly thought of this when i was waiting for my ramen to cook and thought it would be really funny, and i thought niki would try to do something nice for his gf but also be so clumsy lol! hope you guys enjoy!! i apologize if its bad :,)

whereas niki tries to do something nice for you after a stressful day from work, but it results in your kitchen kinda catching on fire…

you sighed as you finally unlocked your apartment door, the weight of the day melting from your shoulders the moment you stepped inside.

your job had been a disaster—back-to-back meetings, annoying emails, and that one coworker who still didn’t know how to mute themselves on zoom. all you wanted was to curl up in bed, maybe binge a drama, and eat something warm and comforting. but before you could call out for your boyfriend, a suspiciously smoky smell hit your nose.

“…riki?” you called cautiously, nose scrunching up as you stepped farther into the apartment. “are you—wait. is something burning?!”

your eyes widened as you reached the kitchen. there he was, tall frame frozen in front of the stove, furiously fanning the air with a dish towel as the smoke detector wailed above him.

there was definitely a small fire in the pan…

“I GOT IT, I GOT IT—!” he shouted over the alarm. “Wait, NO I DON’T—BABE I DON’T GOT IT—”

you rushed to grab the fire extinguisher under the sink—because of course you had one. you were dating niki. this was not his first kitchen incident.

with a hiss and a blast of white foam, the tiny flame was out, the smoke slowly clearing. the silence afterward was deafening.

niki stood still, hair mussed, wearing your pink apron that said “Kiss the Chef” and covered in a fine layer of extinguisher dust. the pot of ramen on the stove was now a blackened mess.

“…you’re home early,” he said sheepishly.

you blinked. then laughed. then bent over and laughed harder, wheezing into the fabric of his hoodie.

“i wanted to make you dinner,” he mumbled, eyes wide like a guilty puppy. “you said your day was awful and i was gonna surprise you with ramen—your favorite kind, too, with the soft-boiled egg and everything!”

you straightened up and looked at him—charred kitchen, singed noodles, destroyed dinner and all—and your heart swelled. you loved this man. even when he almost set your apartment on fire. you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him despite the smell.

“you are the soft-boiled egg,” you whispered into his chest.

“What?”

“never mind,” you giggled. “thank you for trying, baby.”

he hugged you tighter, and then pulled back with a hopeful smile. “sooo…should I order takeout?”

you mock-glared at him. “only if you promise to stay at least ten feet away from the stove.”

“deal.” he paused. “Unless you want popcorn later.”

You groaned. “Don’t push it, arsonist.

bonus!

the takeout arrived twenty minutes later, and you were both curled up on the couch—legs tangled under a shared blanket, ramen containers balanced on your laps, and the window cracked open to air out the lingering smoke.

niki had changed into one of his oversized hoodies, still pouting just a little as he poked at his food.

“you’re still thinking about the fire, aren’t you?” you teased gently, nudging his knee with yours.

“i wanted to be the reason you felt better today,” he mumbled, eyes down. “not the reason you had to use the fire extinguisher.”

you set your container down, leaned in, and touched his face so he’d look at you.

“you are the reason i feel better,” you said softly. “not because of what you did—because it’s you. you tried. and i’d take a thousand burnt pots if it meant coming home to you.”

he blinked, eyes wide and lips twitching up into a smile.

“…that’s kinda cheesy,” he whispered and poked you.

you kissed the tip of his nose. “so is the ramen…eat up, fire boy.”

he laughed, finally, head falling against your shoulder as the stress melted away.

even with the smell of smoke still clinging to the air, being in his arms made everything feel warm again.

note: immm back yall after soooo long, im releasing some drafts i had in here for a long time lol hope you enjoyed! <3

masterlist

©𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐨����𝐳 2025 • 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞/𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲.

[archangeldyke-all]

just in class having a slutty thought abt sev doing chores or something around the house in a white wife pleaser w hard nipples screaming at me thru the shirt🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

i did the math and i think sevika's nipples would be at perfect mouth-level for me which is dangerous b/c i would just lean forward and bite 'em every time they're looking at me aflkjawel;fj

men and minors dni

the problem with having such a gorgeous girlfriend is that you can't get anything done when she's around. the most mundane things about her enchant you. you're constantly distracted by her beauty. sometimes, you follow her around the house aimlessly, just so you can keep looking at her.

it gets you in whole lot of trouble.

your friends are endlessly annoyed by your distract-ability-- they've come to expect that any time you stop texting back or vanish from a night out it's because you caught sight of your girlfriend. sometimes, they'll even text sevika to get your attention again.

you're in sevika's lap, admiring her as she reads when her phone buzzes. sevika groans, reaches out to check her messages, then snorts.

"what?" you ask.

"go get your phone, dummy. you've left ran on read for three hours now." she says.

you gasp and jump up from the couch, trying not to think too much about the fact that you just spent three fucking hours staring at your girlfriend.

at work, silco's had to create a system to get you to focus-- every time he catches you ogling sevika, he simply takes a dollar out of your tip jar on the bar.

it's really effective, but it's had the unintended consequence of making you nervous to look at sevika in public, like you're a fucking high schooler again or something.

it's also made the staring at home ten times worse.

you're supposed to be vacuuming, but you've been distracted by your girlfriend. fuck, she's in nothing but her boxers and wife pleaser, a scowl on her face as she tries to figure out why your kitchen sink keeps dripping. she's trying to kill you.

the vacuum dies and you blink. this thing has an hour long lifespan, and it was fully charged when you started vacuuming the living room. now it's dead, and you didn't even finish the first half of the carpet in here. shit.

sevika blinks up from the sink at the sudden lack of noise. "finally done?" she asks. you blink

"uh, yeah." you lie.

sevika puts her wrench down to come check out your work. she snorts when she walks in the room. "what happened to this half of the carpet?" she asks.

"uh..." you trail off, your eyes focused on sevika's nipples poking through her shirt. somewhere in your peripheral, you can make out the growing smile on sevika's lips. you don't bother to look up from her tits, though. why should you? you're not losing any money for this...

"babe. did you get stuck starin' at me again?"

"can you fuckin' blame me?"

"i was wondering what was taking you so long in here with that thing running." sevika giggles. you finally blink up at her, melting at the sparkle in her eyes.

"you're so gorgeous, and once this thing is charged up again i'll finish this... but for now can we make out a little?" you ask, pouting just a big.

sevika cackles and rolls her eyes. "fuckin' dork." she turns toward the bedroom and calls over her shoulder. "well c'mon! plug the vacuum in and get in here!"

you grin and scramble to do just that.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

Eddie loads the dryer but leaves it open for now; Steve’s asleep on the couch, his pup on the play mat on the floor next to him. Eddie checks the pup every few minutes; he’s pretty content right now, making a concerted effort to get his romper covered foot into his mouth.

He’s a pretty good pup, as far as Eddie can tell. Eddie’s apartment is a mirror of Steve’s, sharing the lounge wall, which means Eddie doesn’t really hear anything at night, their bedrooms are as far apart as they can be.

He’s heard him once in the day though, mid afternoon, crying. Just that once though, and Steve says he only wakes up once in the night for a feed and a change, and apparently that’s pretty good. Or at least, Steve seems happy with it, Eddie has no clue what's normal or not for new pups. Or any pups.

Steve’s still taking the opportunity to nap, though, and Eddie’s letting him. The pup is only ten days old, after all.

Eddie figures he can do their lunch dishes too, so he heads into the kitchen to tidy up. It doesn’t feel weird, letting himself help out around Steve’s place. Feels like home. Feels right.

Eddie likes it.

His Alpha definitely likes it.

Eddie’s done the dishes, dries them, puts them away, and decides it’s time for another loop of the apartment to check on Jamie. He’s fine. He’s waving his arms about and making happy pup gurgling noises.

There’s a knock at the door. Sharp. Very confident; also very fucking annoying. Eddie’s eyes flick to Steve and, yup, whoever it is has disturbed Steve and he’s stretching on the couch, starting to wake.

Eddie answers the door, finding the most petite female alpha he’s ever seen in his life. She frowns spectacularly at the sight, and scent, of Eddie, “can I help?”

“This is Steve’s apartment.” It is not at all delivered as a question, and Eddie guesses if she knows Steve well, she can scent damn well that this is his apartment.

“...can I help?” Eddie repeats, trying his damnedest not to let his hackles rise at the strange Alpha pushing on their boundaries. There’s a new pup in the apartment, and Eddie’s Alpha is the most alert it’s ever been right now.

“Eddie, who is it?” Steve calls from inside, and the Alpha steps closer.

Eddie has to resist the urge to just slam the door, but he can’t stop himself from swinging the door tighter to himself, blocking the doorway with his body, when the Alpha takes a step forward.

“Steve, it’s Nancy,” she calls.

“Oh.” Steve says, and Eddie can’t work out that tone at all, “okay Eddie, she can come in.”

Eddie still pauses for a second, having a mad glare off with this tiny Alpha, before he backs down and makes just enough space for her to pass.

She ignores him, going straight in and hovering near the couch, clearly pausing when she catches sight of the pup, “I heard you’d had a pup but…”

Steve sighs, bending down from where he’s sitting to scoop Jamie up into his lap, “his name is James.”

Eddie can feel how fucking awkward this is, the atmosphere between these two palpable. Eddie debates leaving, for a split second, this isn’t actually, anything to do with him.

He doesn’t though, he can’t, he shuts the door, and then hovers awkwardly behind the couch, and behind Steve.

Nancy eyes him again, and Eddie stares right back. Steve sighs. “If you two want to have a pissing contest you can do it some place else. You’re making it stink in here.”

As if on cue, Jamie starts crying.

“You’re right, he should go,” Nancy says.

“Excuse you?” Eddie can feel his eyebrows dragging his whole fucking face up into a scowl.

“Oh no,” Steve stands, “we’re not doing this, Eddie, do you mind taking him a sec?”

Eddie swells with pride that Steve would trust him with the pup, right this second. He probably actually puffs his chest up like an idiot, but he can’t make himself care. He takes Jamie into the nursery, bouncing him and holding him so he can scent at his neck, making nonsensical shushing noises. Unfortunately he can’t hear Steve and Nancy talking over Jamie’s half formed warbling in his ear, but it only feels like a couple of minutes before the pup settles and the front door clicks shut.

Steve comes in, looking tired suddenly. Tired and worn, “you okay?”

Steve shrugs, “she just came to remind me that I’m a stupid omega.”

Eddie has to bite back a growl, “she what?”

Steve laughs, but it’s empty and there’s no humor in it, “she didn’t actually say that. She said I would have been better to have a little more security before I had a pup. That having an Alpha I’m not mated too around the place is a bad idea. She asked if you were the father.”

For a second, Eddie’s heart feels like it tries to beat twice in one go, “what did you tell her?”

“That I don’t know who the father is. Technically true, but I put it like that to get a rise out of her. She always thought I was...flighty.”

“That’s a very polite way of putting that.”

Steve shrugs, coming close and scenting the top of his pups head, “I just wanted a mate. A family. Someone serious,” he shrugs, “I guess you’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs or whatever. Just never...found the one that turned out to be a prince.” And Steve scents sad. He scents so godamn sad, “but I’ve got Jamie now, and we don’t need anyone? Do we pup?”

Eddie excuses himself, and goes home.

The knocking at Eddie’s door could be described as fucking obnoxious, so Eddie knows it’s Robin before he yanks it open.

“Steve said he hadn’t seen you for a couple of days.”

“Uh hu.”

“He also said Nancy had been over, was she a bitch? Did she say something to you?”

“No-”

“So why are you avoiding Steve?”

“I am not avoiding Steve-”

“Great, so you won’t mind coming over then. Me and Chrissy brought take out.”

Eddie sighs down at his adventure Crocs, listening to the happy chatter from inside the apartment. He really needs to get it together. He forces himself to think about that fact that he’s just made an amazing new friend, and that he gets to be a part of Steve’s life, and that he should be happy with that.

He really, really needs to be happy with that.

He’s just, he thinks, gotten his shit under control enough to knock when Robin drags the door open, “oh, figured you’d gotten lost, was just about to mount a search and rescue."

Steve and the girls are piled onto the couch, so Eddie takes the armchair. Jamie’s in his Moses basket, off to one side where Steve can look over him. The coffee table is covered with take out.

“Eddie,” Steve smiles all happy at the sight of him, “we missed you, you been busy?”

“Uh, yeah, work, you know, got busy,” Eddie says lamely. He can feel Robin eyeballing him, so he ignores her in favor of duck rolls and chicken chow mien.

They go back to the conversation they were clearly having before Eddie arrived, “I’ll definitely go out with you,” Chrissy is saying, “I mean, I won’t be any good at it, I’ve literally never played basketball, but you can teach me.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, you have cheerleader reflexes. I just need to practice with someone to get back in shape before I go out with the guys again, you know.”

“Yeah,” Chrissy agrees, “just getting out there will do you good.”

Steve hums, “I’m already getting really restless, you know?”

“I’d be climbing the walls, have you been out for a run yet?”

“Couple of times, but was more of a brisk walk, with the stroller, but I felt so much better afterwards.”

“Well, when you do get out for one, let me know, I can come with you for the first few while you find your feet?”

“Yeah, that would be great, I don’t know how far I’ll manage, but I’ve really got to get moving.”

“Eddie, help me with the coffee?” Robin distracts Eddie away from Steve and Chrissy’s, quite frankly, horrifying conversation. Sports? Running?

“You look like you’re going through the seven stages of grief, or whatever,” Robin laughs at him.

“What?”

“Don’t worry, I went though the same thing with Chris.”

“What...thing?”

She turns to him, rolling her eyes, “you just realized that you’ve fallen in love with a jock?”

“Oh. I-Oh no.”

“Oh, sure, I can watch Jamie,” Eddie finds himself agreeing easily.

Steve’s wearing...well. Eddie’s not sure. He can't look. They’re shorts, Eddie’s pretty sure. They’re...green, maybe? But the most important feature is that they’re so tiny as to be practically indecent. Hence Eddie maintaining fierce eye contact.

Behind Steve, Chrissy is...stretching? Eddie guesses that’s what that is? Steve’s already got a little color in his cheeks and he’s bouncing on the spot a little.

“I’m real out of shape so we won’t be gone long, okay? Like, half hour, max.”

“Sure,” Eddie grabs his keys and slides into his adventure Crocs.

“He’s literally just been fed and had a change, he should sleep the whole time. Obviously help yourself to anything,” Steve is saying as Eddie follows him down the hall, "I've got my phone, so just call if you need and we can come straight back."

Jamie is there in his basket, the TV playing something quietly, and Steve kneels and scents his pup real quick before he goes.

The curve of Steve's ass is peeking out of the bottom of the shorts, the milky skin inside his spread thighs- Eddie stares at the ceiling. Nope nope nope, “sure,” he tells Steve, and the ceiling, “we got this.”

Eddie waits for the door to click shut before he moves again, looking down at Jamie, who gurgles, "what the fu-I. Sorry. I shouldn't swear in front of you but, I mean. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with your dad, is the thing."

Jamie farts, and then starts to cry.

Eddie sighs.

Part Six

[yuvany]

WHEN YOU TEASE ENHYPEN

not kissing bf!enha

HYUNG LINE x fem!r CONTENT / WRANING(S) skinship + slight suggestive content(?) + est relationship + close proximity + minor fluff WORD COUNT 605 CHECK BOX !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 has wanted to kiss you the whole day, but the separation of work had come in between the two of you. Maybe it was urgency, or maybe it was just love, but Heeseung looked forward to coming home. He imagines pulling you into a long and tight hug and pressing his lips all over your face. He rushes home and urges the port to swing open, knowing that you were already home. "Hello!" You call, upon hearing the signal of arrival, and Heeseung makes his way over to you with a wave as he eagerly guides his hands around your waist and letting his lips come closer to yours. You can sense his eagerness, and gives him a kiss on the cheek. Whe he aims for your lips, you just dodge. "baby, don't play with me like this." he pleads.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 knows what he wants and will let you know he wants you in his arms. Jay sees you leaning your head against his shoulder, looking so comfortable with this proximity, the smile on his lips enlarges at the sight, and his fingers trail across your back and rest on your shoulder. You had captivated his attention with your half lidded eyes that seemed to be closed for a lor longer than they were open, as if you were fighting off sleep. Jay notices this and bends his neck to check up on you closer. You flutter your eyes open, and sees his face in front of yours. "Hmm?" You hum, and rub your eyes with your knuckles. "You look exhausted, let's get you to bed." When he tries to give you a kiss on the cheek, you swiftly dodge it and stand up on your own. He thinks nothing of this and tries again, only to fail once more.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 "I think I deserve a reward, baby." "A reward for what?" You scoff. Jake is standing in the kitchen with you, helping you wash the dishes. "For coming over?" You continue, and nudge him by the shoulder with a teasing grin. "I mean, why not?" He smirks and returns the previous gesture you gave him, which causes you to jerk to the side slightly. You look up at him with knitted eyebrows for doing it so aggressively. "Well, now you wont get a kiss. Blame yourself." You mockingly sulk, continuing to play with the bubbles formed by the dish soap. Jake sighs from your side, and finish up the last plates before drying his hands. "babe, please." He pleads, giving you the puppy eyes. "Let me think about it." You feel his warm palms wrap around your waist as he buries his face in your neck. "Have you thought enough about it yet?" "It's only been ten seconds, sweetie." "Sooo?" "No."

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉 isn't one to exactly say what he wants, but right now, he was contemplating if he should just tell you that he had missed the feeling of your lips against his, or if he should stay quiet and just imagine it all in his head. You had seen how he sneaks a glance here and there from your peripheral vision, but decided to ignore it, becuase you did not want to excuse the fact that you were also glancing over at his handsome face. Slowly, but surely, Sunghoon comes closer inch by inch. You notice this as well as his constant touches on your arms and tugging on your shirt. When you turn to see, his face was a breath away from yours. You just smirk at this and push him away, enjoying the shocked expression on his face.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Current & Forever

Pairing: Olivia Miles x Reader

Fandom: Women’s College Basketball (Notre Dame/TCU)

Summary: current girlfriend… try again…

A/N: final got an Olivia post for yall

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @zizi-bee-yapping

This house smells like every good memory I’ve ever had.

Cedarwood walls soaked with old lake water and lemon cleaner. Salt from air-dried swimsuits. Peeling screen doors that squeak like they’ve missed me.

The house my granddad built when I was a baby, back when my only job was eating applesauce and babbling nonsense on the dock while he grilled catfish and sang Luther Vandross like he meant it.

Now I’m grown. And my girlfriend—my beautiful, stubborn, “I transferred to TCU because I needed a fresh start and now I sleep like a baby at night” girlfriend—is sitting on the porch swing, wearing my old high school hoodie and peeling a mango with a paring knife like it’s a sport.

“Babe,” I call through the open screen door, balancing three bags of groceries on one arm and holding my phone in the other, “can you come help me with this haul?”

She grins and pops a mango slice in her mouth. “You just want me to look cute for your little TikTok haul, huh?”

“You do look cute,” I say, kicking the door closed behind me. “But also yes.”

Ten minutes later, we’re both in the kitchen. Sunlight spills through the back windows and glints off the quartz countertop Grandad installed with his own hands.

Olivia’s barefoot, hair tied in a messy puff, cutting strawberries while I set up my phone against a makeshift tripod made of cereal boxes.

I hit record.

“Hey guys,” I say with a soft grin. “So I’m at my childhood vacation house for the week and I’m here with Olivia, my current girlfriend—”

Olivia freezes.

She blinks.

Strawberry juice drips from the knife to the cutting board.

“Current?” she echoes, eyebrows lifting in slow motion like she didn’t just hear me say the wildest thing ever.

I keep going, because chaos is my love language. “And today we’re gonna do a lil grocery haul for y’all—”

“Current?” Olivia repeats, putting the knife down like it personally offended her. “What the fuck you mean current? No, no—cut the cameras. Cut this shit right now.”

I laugh. A full belly-laugh.

She doesn’t.

She marches over, hands slick from fruit juice, and cups my face with both palms. “Y/N. You looking at me?”

“Yes, Liv.”

“No, no, look at me.” She tilts my chin like I’m a kid who just got caught sneaking cookies before dinner. “You mean to tell me—after three years, after I flew you to South Bend for your birthday senior year, after we spent two months talking every night while I was thinking about transferring—you calling me your current girlfriend like I’m just filling in a slot until you rotate again?”

“Liv—”

“No. Uh-uh. Imma crash out on this camera, don’t play with me. I’m not your current girlfriend. I’ve been your only girlfriend. We started dating during March Madness three years ago and you’ve been mine ever since.”

I lean forward and kiss her.

Right on the mouth. Sticky strawberry hands and all.

Just a soft press, slow, right in the middle of her flustered rant.

Then I pull back, smirking. “Anyway, like I was saying before Olivia had a full crisis—”

She groans.

“—I’m here with my current girlfriend, Olivia Miles, and we’re gonna do a lil haul. Starting with… mini cornbread muffins, because someone decided she’s a Southern belle now that she transferred to TCU.”

Olivia shakes her head and backs out of the frame. “Cut the cameras, deadass. Ma, turn this shit off.”

I laugh and end the video, tossing the phone onto the counter. “It’s going in drafts. Relax.”

She doesn’t.

Not fully.

We finish unpacking the groceries in silence. Not the angry kind, more like the fragile kind where someone’s low-key spiraling and doesn’t want to say it out loud.

She keeps glancing at me. Like she’s trying to read something in my face that I didn’t write.

I step behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. “Baby,” I murmur, “I love you.”

“You sure?” she whispers.

“Positive.”

“‘Cause ‘current girlfriend’ kinda sounded like you had a future breakup already drafted in your Notes app.”

“Okay, first of all,” I chuckle into her neck, “if I ever wrote a breakup note, it’d be handwritten with tear stains and probably a pressed flower.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I know.” I kiss her shoulder blade, slow and reassuring. “But you don’t have to worry. I’m not going anywhere, Liv.”

Her fingers play with mine where they’re linked at her stomach. “You promise?”

“With everything in me.”

She turns to face me, eyes soft and searching. “Then baby me for the rest of the day. I’m serious. I’m fragile. I almost googled ‘what to do when your soulmate calls you her current girlfriend.’”

I laugh so hard I nearly choke on my own breath. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re evil,” she shoots back, smiling now. “But I still want the princess treatment. I want snacks. I want forehead kisses. I want you to call me your forever girlfriend in five different languages.”

“Deal,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the porch. “But first, mango and cuddles on the swing.”

Dinner is grilled shrimp tacos and a salad Olivia barely touches because she’s too busy making heart eyes at me across the table.

The cicadas buzz outside like a lullaby, and the old jazz playlist I found on my granddad’s iPod plays low in the background.

My phone’s sitting nearby, propped against a napkin holder. Not recording—just chilling.

Or so Olivia thinks.

Because I hit record five minutes ago. Just for us. Just in case.

She reaches across the table, wiping a spot of avocado off my cheek with her thumb. “You know,” she says softly, “I still think about the first time we kissed.

That night after Notre Dame lost and you found me crying in the locker room. You didn’t say anything. You just pulled me close and let me sob into your hoodie.”

“I remember.”

“You kissed my forehead,” she continues, eyes glassy now. “And you said, ‘No matter what happens next season, I’m proud of you.’”

I nod, feeling that old ache in my chest. The one reserved for people who own pieces of you you didn’t even know were missing.

“Well,” Olivia says, clearing her throat and meeting my eyes, “you’ve been my only girlfriend since that moment. So next time you wanna play TikTok clownery, just know—I’m not with it.”

She glances at the phone, realizing it’s been on this whole time.

And instead of panicking, she leans in and kisses me. Slow. With intention.

Then looks at the camera, back at me, and says, “You’re my forever girlfriend. So don’t do nothing like that no more, baby.”

I grin, cheeks flushed. “Yes, ma’am.”

The next day, I edit the video.

It’s got everything: Olivia ranting, me giggling, strawberry juice on her hands, kisses, eye rolls, mangoes, porch swings, soft music, real love.

I stare at it for a full five minutes before hitting “Post.”

Caption: when your forever girlfriend doesn’t play about her title.

Comments flood in before I even lock my phone.

@/ballislife: Nah she said “cut the cameras DEADASS” and meant it.

@/hoopsgirlfriend: current girlfriend is crazy. she lucky Olivia didn’t pack her bags.

@/livsmiles: she scared for her life now lmao

I turn to Olivia, who’s watching reruns of Living Single on the couch, and curl into her side. She wraps her arm around me like she knew I was coming.

“You see the TikTok yet?” I ask.

She pulls out her phone, sees the notification, and gasps. “Y/N! You posted it?”

“You looked so pretty being mad. I couldn’t help it.”

She groans but can’t stop smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Forever, right?”

She kisses me again. “Forever, baby.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Of Meetings and Musings

Masterlist

Not so Fake

“I expected this from Dick, not from you Alfred.” Tim said blankly from his place on the ground. Wrapped in what he could only define as a Military grade Bat-proof burrito blanket.

“Well Master Timothy I know better than anyone that you would not listen to reason. The moment your brothers’ and father's back are turned you'd be gone and already ten feet deep in your newest case.” Alfred moved forward placing a cup to the side of Tim’s head before bending the straw so that he could turn his head to take a sip. “Be happy I am letting you sit in on over video call for the Justice League meeting.” Alfred pulled out a domino mask, securely attaching it to Tim’s face.

“This is mildly embarrassing.” Alfred looked at him for a second before reaching over and turning off the camera feed on their side.

“Better?”

“Slightly.”

“Good, now I expect that water will be gone by the end of this meeting or your coffee ban will be extended. I will be in the kitchen, just call if you need me.”

“Understood.” Tim said glumly as he thought about coffee. Alfred gave him an amused smile before walking off towards the kitchen.

Tim couldn't help but pout over the fact that he was even in the situation. He just wanted to do an intensive search into the Infinite Realms, while simultaneously hacking into the government agency known as the Ghost Investigation Ward, light work really. He barely had time to react before he was caught by Alfred. Honestly they act like he had a problem.

Tim in fact does have a problem.

Dick had managed to convince them to let Tim at least listen into the meeting. Which won him some points in Tim’s book, going off a mental tally he was now tied for second place with Duke. Cass remained in the number one favorite sibling spot, while Jason had dropped to last after the spam of pictures he took of him in the burrito.

The complete asshole he was had probably already posted them all over Twitter and Instagram. Tim wasn't ready for his Wayne Enterprises PR team email, he was gonna get Jason back for this.

He sighed, taking a sip from his straw tuning back in as Batman called attention.

“Very startling information has been brought to my attention. Something that we should've known sooner but slipped under the radar.” Batman straightens, moving to the side as the projector turns on. Displaying a PowerPoint that Tim considered woefully uninformed considering Jason had made it. Jason's the only one that uses PowerPoints weird transitions, and Tim knows he could have found everything Jason compiled in under an hour.

“The Anti-Ecto Acts a law passed by Luthor during his President run. It was signed into law the day after Gotham was declared no man's land, leaving it to slip our attention.” Nightwing turned the page in the packet he had gotten made up, signaling the others to turn as well. It was the bill in full for them to read over. “This law states that any being made of ectoplasm or able to create it are classified as undead and non-sentient. They automatically lose all human rights, and are open season to be experimented on or exterminated. They also declare it a crime to be a ghost or Ecto-Entity, the Ghost Investigation Ward, operating under the government, is given full rights to arrest those they deem undead.” Batman clicked the next slide to show multiple League members’ pictures. “Multiple League members are considered to be undead.” Everyone was stunned as they looked over the pictures, Superman was the first to speak up.

“Batman, seven of those pictures.” Batman nodded his face blank but his kids could read him clearly.

“Seven of Gotham's vigilantes are considered non-sentient and inhuman. Myself included, anyone in the Justice League that has died and managed to come back. If we don't move fast, we'll all be in trouble.”

Tim sighed, shaking his head deciding to step in.

“Under statement of the year B. This is one, either a plan Luthor made to take us down, or two, the start to tearing down all protections Metas and Aliens currently have.” Constantine nodded before standing up  moving to the front.

“I thought you all knew about this, else I would've told you sooner. We're all in lot of trouble with these Acts. Luthor basically declared war against another nation.” 

“What do you mean John?” Superman questioned as he leaned forward more his Eyes kept straying back to his picture and that of his god kids. Batman nodded to Constantine letting him take over the presentation. Tim was surprised to see screenshots of Danny’s videos on the next slide.

“There is a Realm that coincides with ours and every other universe that exists. It's known as the Infinite Realms, to put in bluntly, if the Infinite Realms was to be destroyed every universe would too. The Infinite Realms is inhabited by ghosts and primordials, beings that could and would destroy worlds if they simply teamed up. The Anti-Ecto Acts is a declaration of war against them.” Constantine sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced at the pictures. “For one we need to get it repealed immediately. Second we need to start peace treaties with the Infinite Realms, up until a few years ago it would’ve been impossible. The King was a tyrant that would love a war, however three years ago he was defeated in battle and another was Crowned.”

“How do we get in contact with this new King?” Wonder Woman questioned crossing her arms determined to see the Acts abolished.

“The only lead we have is, and I shit you not, this YouTuber.” Tim blue screened for a moment as his eyes zeroed in on a screenshot of Danny’s grinning face. Constantine held his hands up at the incredulous looks he was getting. “I know, sounds down right loony but it’s true. GalacticPhantom, also known as Danny, has posted multiple videos of himself and friends interacting with Ghosts from the Infinite Realms. The most important being the young ghost girl with white hair in the last photo. If our connections are correct, that girl is Princess Danielle Phantom, clone of High King Phantom and heir apparent. In order to reach the King, we need to reach her, and to reach her, we need Danny.”

Tim blinked before dropping his head against the floor groaning slightly, thinking about how they’d have to go about this.

“Before we continue with this.” He interrupted grumpily knowing this was going to cause issues. “So as the resident expert on GalacticPhantom,”

“Yes Red, we know you have a crush on the YouTuber.” Hood called out teasingly, earning a few small smiles. Tim was silent just glaring at the camera before speaking again.

“Congratulations Robin you’ve moved up the rankings of my favorites lists.”

“Tt- I don’t care about the nonsense you’re spewing Red.”

“Awe, Robin are you smirking? That's so cute! My baby birds are bonding!” “Nightwing I swear I will stab you.”

“Back to the point!” Tim said loudly, wanting to slam his head against the floor. “Danny’s friend Wes, he is either incredibly smart or a psychic of some sort. He has a majority of our identities clocked. Stop yelling, honestly, I believe he has a curse much like Cassandra of Troy, the only people that believe him are his friends.” Batman sighed and everyone watched in shock as he pinched his nose.

“Red, we are going to have a serious talk about sharing important information like that.” Tim snorted, rolling his eyes as he took a long sip of his water.

“Honestly B, the only reason I’m telling you now is because he is going to immediately know something is wrong. Given that only his friends listen to him, well I have no fact they all will be on high alert. To put it plainly, for once we can’t sneak around in the shadows.”

“Damn, we have to do a Superman confrontation.” Nightwing said glumly, earning a teasing offended look from the man himself.

“What’s wrong with my way?”

“It’s not as fun ‘cause they see you coming. It’s never a surprise, I like surprising them.”

“Ya, you would Wing.” Superman said affectionately before Batman called attention back to their meeting. 

“We better start planning then, I want us to be in peace talks within the week. I am giving Oracle and Red Robin full permission to pull up everything from GIW and get it blasted through every media outlet, converging with Superman on certain points of this. Given the new knowledge our best bet would be to go in with civilians. I will ask the Waynes to act as liaison for us, given they are our biggest benefactors they can be direct contact between the two.” Batman turned the power point off before moving to the middle of the table again. 

“Given the threat all of us are currently facing, I am enacting Protocol Convergence effective immediately. No hero is to do sole patrols, heroes are required to keep emergency homing beacons on them at all times. If anyone is confronted by the GIW they are to retreat immediately and alert the others. The Watchtower is having its shields upgraded and will be ready for the possibility of an attack. If the GIW does approach one of us, either meet here, Superman’s Fortress of Solitude, or the Batcave. I will be temporarily opening the Zeta-Tube for the cave, do not abuse this.Now, we need to get to work everyone is dismissed.”

Danny stopped suddenly causing everyone to look at him confused as he slowly put his missing bowl down and looked around the school kitchen suspiciously. Lunch Lady also stopped in her mixing, having agreed to have a bake off with King Phantom for one of his videos.

“What's wrong Pudding pop?” She asked softly, placing a hand on his back, Danny didn’t respond for a moment before turning to them and making eye contact with Dani, who also looked off put.

“Someone not of the Realms used our official titles.” Danny muttered shifting back and forth before giving Lunch Lady a tense smile. He stood taller, no longer slouching as his transformation took place, leaving him in his royal regalia, Dani transforming soon after moving to stand beside him. “I’m sorry, can we reschedule this? I feel the need to speak with my Council.” Lunch Lady nodded, snapping her fingers causing their ingredients to disappear and be replaced with freshly baked cookies.

“Of course your Majesties.” She said curtsying before offering a plate to Dani who took it with a grin. “I will reach out to Royal Secretary Foley to reschedule. I hope that you find everything well.” Danny smiled nodding as he opened a portal for her back to hers and Box Ghost’s Haunt.

“I do as well, please tell Box Ghost I said hello.” Lunch Lady smiled, thanking Danny and promising to do so before stepping through and waving goodbye. “Do you all want to come?” Wes glared, rolling his eyes as he stood up stretching.

“Stupid question, of course we’re coming.” Danny grinned rolling his eyes as he opened a portal to the Infinite Realms Castle. Dani bounced through calling out to them as she started flying down the hallway.

“See you in the Council room! I’m going to summon the Council!” Val snorted, walking through after Sam and Tucker. Wes entered the portal two steps behind Danny watching carefully until it was closed.

“This’ll be interesting.” Sam said, stretching out her arms as the Realms fueled her liminal side and green vines wrapped around her left arm sprouting a few black and red roses. Tucker snorted as his hat was replaced by a Nemes and the traditional makeup of a Pharaoh appeared marking him as the reincarnation of Duul Aman. Val paused looking herself over before huffing and crossing her arms glaring at the ceiling.

“Really?? Still nothing? Is it because I tried to kill him at one point, come on I’ve changed and been reformed! Give me some cool ghostly changes! Even Wes gets them!” She said, glaring at Wes, who just grinned back as he adjusted the chest plate and sword that appeared on him.

“To be fair Val, I only get it because I forced my way into being his knight.” Val huffed, throwing her arms up more playful than frustrated. Danny snorted before starting to walk towards the Council room the other following after.

Dead-ends and Surprise Visits

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Suburban Sunrises and City Sunsets !NSFW!

Avenger!Agatha x Avenger!Pregnant!Reader

Word count: 11,178

Content Warnings: MDNI; soft smut, pregnancy, morning sickness/vomiting, childbirth/c-section, needles/epidural

Summary: The nine months following you and Agatha finding out you're pregnant--also known as Agatha having a crisis and realizing you've turned into a suburban family.

A/N: Hiii!!! I absolutely loved writing this. Panicked, worried Agatha is always fun to write, plus pregnant reader really adds to it. This will probably be my last oneshot for a couple weeks unless I have some free time! The next one on my list is a Maya Mason x reader!!!

Read Part 1 here

Spotify playlist here

Ao3 here

Masterlist here

Tip jar💕

Tag list: @sweetmidnights @warpdrive-witch @katrina-3-37

You sit in the warm bath, clouds of bubbles up to your chest. Agatha sits on the edge of the tub, pouring some kind of floral scented bath oil as you sigh and flip through the packet of OB/GYNs and prenatal information the nurse gave you.

“What about Jen?” you huff, and toss the packet on the side table beside the tub, reaching into the bag of candy Agatha got for you. “She’s a midwife.”

Agatha recaps the bottle of bath oil. “She hasn’t been a midwife since 1925.” She sets the bottle on the table and crouches down beside you. “I’m not trusting her with you or our child.”

“She’s been wanting to get back into it,” you try to reason.

Agatha sighs. “Do you actually want Jennifer as your midwife?”

“I mean–I don’t know!” you groan. “I know Jen. I like Jen. It would be a little comforting to have someone that doesn’t see me as a statistic, and actually…” Your voice goes quiet. “Sees me–us–as a person and a child.”

Agatha smiles sadly and her hand runs through your hair. “Okay,” she says softly. “If it makes you more comfortable, Jen can be part of it–but I would like it if we had someone who hasn’t been out of practice for 105 years.”

You take her hand and press a kiss to it. “Thank you.” 

“I’ll call the OB office by the Tower,” she says. “See if they can fit you in soon.” 

You order in for dinner tonight–some vegan place where Agatha made sure every single ingredient is organic. She nagged the poor employee on the phone for almost ten minutes.

“So, every ingredient is organic?” she double checked. You heard the girl on the line mumble something and Agatha nodded, flipping over the menu that’s on the counter. “And the tofu? Is that pasteurized? Okay. And your sauces–? Well, excuse me for not wanting to give my pregnant wife a foodborne illness!”

Sitting at the kitchen table, Agatha unpacks the bag of food. “I called the OB office earlier. They have an ultrasound appointment available tomorrow, but it’s at nine in the morning.”

“When’s the next one?” You ask, opening your container that has a vegan grilled cheese. 

“In two weeks,” Agatha sighs, and takes a seat to eat dinner.

“Alright,” you say. “I guess since it’s so close to the Tower, we might as well just go back.”

“Are you sure?”

You shrug. “Yeah. I mean, we’ve calmed down–” You pause, completely forgetting that Wanda guessed.

“What?” Agatha asks. “What’s wrong?”

Your voice is steady. “I forgot to tell you…Wanda knows.”

“How?” she gapes.

“She called me to check in right after you went into CVS,” you explain.”I didn’t tell her. She guessed it.” As you watch Agatha’s face contort into frustration, you lean forward, taking her hand. “It’s okay! Honey, it’s fine! She said she won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay,” she sighs. “It’s your place to tell, anyway. Not mine.”

“I’d like the coven to know first,” you say. “I guess Wanda’s part of the coven. She’s been to a few meetings. But I want to wait until after the first trimester…just get settled–out of the high-risk-for-miscarriage-zone, have a few ultrasound pictures to show them. When’s the next meeting?”

Agatha gets up, checking the calendar on the fridge. “Looks like March 7th–two weeks.”

You sit back in your chair, sighing. “Alright, yeah. We’ll tell them then.”

“And the rest?” Agatha asks, raising an eyebrow as she sits back down. “The team is gonna be suspicious sooner or later.”

You groan. “It’ll come out eventually.”

It’s like the nausea only appeared after learning that you’re pregnant. There’s a deep, unpleasant feeling in your stomach when you wake up in the morning. The sun is just barely above the horizon. Dark  shadows are still cast across your bedroom ceiling, but you’re out of bed immediately, rushing to the bathroom.

Your heavy footsteps and rushing stir Agatha from sleep and she’s out of bed quickly. Hunched over the toilet and retching, you feel Agatha’s hand on your back as the other holds your hair back. 

“Oh, god,” she mumbles, her voice still rough from sleep. Back in the bedroom, you can hear Agatha’s alarm go off for the doctor's appointment. “It’s okay, honey.”

She opens the bathroom closet and grabs a rag, running it under the tap. Agatha sits down on the floor beside you and when you sit up she gently wipes your mouth and nose. 

“Thank you,” you sigh, sniffling and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Agatha kisses you on the forehead and stands up. “I’ll go get you the nausea meds.” After turning her alarm off, she goes downstairs and retrieves the medication. It helps, mostly. Your stomach has settled by the time you finish getting ready, but there’s still a twinge present. Despite your protests, Agatha makes you eat two pieces of toast.

The ride back to New York City is uneventful. Commuter traffic is always heavy, but you slept right through it, and you even slept through Agatha picking up her coffee order in a drive-thru. When outside of the OB/GYN office, she wakes you up with a gentle shake of your shoulder.

You blink against the bright sunlight and stretch before you look down at the cupholder. “Where the hell did you get coffee from?”

“I went through the Dunkin’ drive-thru,” she says, and reaches into the car door pocket. She holds out a baggie to you, “I didn’t wanna wake you up. You looked so peaceful. But I got you a donut if you get hungry.”

“Aww, thank you,” you say, eyes still heavy with sleep as you lean over to kiss her.

When you walk in, it’s much warmer than it is outside. Agatha’s hand is on your lower back as you check in at the front, and it doesn’t leave its position in the waiting room. There are a few other people there, and as you sit there, you have a weird feeling.

Across the room, a couple whispers to one another and looks at you and Agatha. You lean over subtly, “Are they talking about us?”

Agatha doesn’t even get to respond before they approach you. The woman is meek and soft-spoken, “I’m so sorry to bother, but are you two part of the Avengers?”

Shit.

“Um–no,” Agatha lies, politely smiling. “I guess we just look like them.”

You feel Agatha’s hand tighten on your back when the woman’s husband persists. “Are you sure? You guys look ve–”

“Sir, I’m just here for a pap smear,” you sigh, watching in delight as his face drops.

When your name is called, Agatha’s hand is in yours. Her thumb gently runs over your skin as you feel your heart race. Your vitals are taken along with your height and weight, and when you’re brought to the room you’re given a blanket and instructed to remove your pants.

“The sonographer will be in soon,” the woman tells you.

You remove your coat and pants. On the table, you get yourself situated, blanket over your legs as you lay back. You smile as you watch agatha fold your pants and drape your coat over a chair before straightening your shoes below. “Agatha, stop obsessing over my clothes,” you say. “Come here.”

She sighs and takes your hand as a knock sounds on the door. The sonographer enters, smiling way too brightly for it being nine-thirty in the morning. She introduces herself in a chipper voice and you can almost feel Agatha wanting to roll her eyes.

“I have to say,” the sonographer chirps, “this is the first Avenger we’ve had here.”

“Glad to be the first,” you muse.

Agatha, with her hand holding on tightly to yours, stares intently at the blank TV screen on the wall. She rocks side to side and only looks away after you say her name twice. “Hm? What?”

“You’re hurting my hand,” you say softly. “Relax, please.”

The gel on your lower belly is cold, but the gasp comes from Agatha. The TV screen lights up when the probe is placed on your belly and there, on the screen amidst the black and white coloring, is a small blob. 

“It looks like you’re at around ten weeks,” the sonographer pipes up. “So just at the tail end of the first trimester. And if I turn up the volume here, we should be able to hear–there we go!”

Above you, Agatha stops breathing. The sound of your baby’s heartbeat is loud, and over top of it you can hear Agatha sniffle. 

The sonographer turns her computer screen toward you, pointing at different areas. You turn your head, looking closely.

“Right here, you can see the arms and legs,” she says, pointing to them. She moves her finger to the tiny head just barely visibly. “And here, you can see their face–it’s not super prominent, but you can see it starting to form.”

As you watch the screen up close, he heartbeat loud and strong in your ears, you can’t help but wipe away tears.

The OB comes and goes. Your clothes are put back on. Ultrasound photos are in Agatha’s purse. 

You’re back in the car, maybe five minutes from the Tower, and you’re quiet. 

“I know I got you a donut,” Agatha says, “but do you wanna get breakfast at that one pla–What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” you sniffle, wiping away tears. “I know we were gonna see them today, but I didn’t think we’d hear the heartbeat! Oh, my god. And their little arms and legs–!”

“Yeah,” she says quietly, buckling in, “let’s go get breakfast.”

You sniffle again, wiping away your tears. “Okay.”

The coven meeting is held at your home in Westview. Wanda joins again, arriving with Billy and complaining about his driving skills.

In the kitchen, you and Agatha prepare tea, wine, and snacks while everyone waits in the basement. You can hear laughter drift up through the staircase as you cut slices of cheese and place them on a platter. 

“How are we gonna tell them?” you mutter.

“I don’t know,” Agatha sighs. “I’m sure when you reject a glass of wine, they’ll catch on soon enough–that’s if Wanda holds her tongue.”

“Oh, be nice,” you hiss. 

Agatha grins, “Not my forte, hon.”

So look at the cheese platter and pause. “Fuck.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the brie,” you say. “Brie’s my favorite. They’re gonna know something’s up.”

Agatha looks at you, knowing that you’re probably right, but not wanting to say it. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she says, completely unconvincing. 

You take everything downstairs to the coven, and with a little spell, trays of hors d'oeuvres, tea, and wine are floating around the table. Lilia sits beside you and when you take your seat you can feel her eyes narrow at you.

You look back at her, raising an eyebrow and watching as she looks you up and down. 

“Something’s different,” Lilia says.

Damn her intuition.

“Like what?” you ask, and you feel Agatha’s hand rest on your thigh, clearly listening in on the conversation. 

Lilia narrows her eyes more, finger at her mouth as she focuses on you. Her eyebrow twitches and you can see it in her face when she realizes. “Ah, yes,” she mutters to herself. “I know what it is.”

You curse under your breath and Agatha turns her head. “What?”

“Lilia knows,” you mumble behind a napkin, disguising it as wiping your mouth. 

“Fuck,” she sighs. “I knew she’d find out just by looking at you.”

The meeting is in full swing. Multiple conversations are going on at once. Wanda and Agatha–despite bickering–are mentoring Billy, Jen and Alice are going over protection spells, and Lilia…is reading your tea leaves.

She rotates the cup in her hands, focusing on each shape and pattern she could interpret. “So, how far along are you?” she asks quietly.

You sigh and lean in close. “Almost thirteen weeks. We’re planning on telling the coven tonight, we just don’t know how.”

She hums, “Well, congratulations.”

Towards the end of the meeting, you hear your name called and when you look over Agatha has the cheese platter in hand. “Are you finished with the hors d’oeuvres?”

“Yeah, honey, thank you,” you say, stacking cups around the table to clean later.

“You’re not eating the brie?” Billy asks.

You’re so focused on the task at hand that you answer his question mindlessly. “No, I can’t have it, sweetheart.” And then you freeze. And agatha freezes. And you see Wanda and Lilia trying to hide their smiles.

Billy and Alice both look confused. “Why can’t you have it?” Billy asks.

You look at Jen who starts to connect the dots. There’s no way to dig yourself out of this. You look at Agatha and finally sigh. “I’m pregnant.”

Billy’s and Alice’s jaws drop. 

“Oh, my god!” 

“What?”

Shocked laughter reverberates around the room before hugs and congratulations come. 

“That was the hardest secret secret I’ve ever kept,” Wanda sighs before hugging you. “I’m so happy for you.”

You run upstairs quickly and take out the ultrasound pictures from your nightstand. When you’re back downstairs, the coven has moved to the living room. “Here,” you say, letting them pass around the pictures. Agatha stands beside you, hand on your back as you continue talking. “That was a ten week ultrasound. It’s almost at 13 weeks. They said the due date is around September 10th.”

“You guys are the first ones to know, so don’t go running your mouths…Billy,” Agatha says, and then glares at him.

“I think it’s gonna be a girl,” Alice says, handing it to Jen.

“Mmm,” Jen looks at the picture, almost analyzing it from how focused she looks. “I think it’ll be a boy.”

“I’m not saying,” Lilia comments, looking at the ultrasound picture and smiling.

After they’re passed around, you take the pictures back and hugs and goodbyes are exchanged. Just before Jen’s able to leave, you pull her aside.

“I know you’ve been wanting to get back into obstetrics,” you say. “So, I was wondering if you’d like to be one of the midwives in the room. We have an obstetrician, so it wouldn’t be everything, but you know, just some extra help…”

Jen looks shocked. “Seriously?”

“You don’t have to!” you hurry. “But we–” You look at Agatha and then back at Jen. “I trust you.”

Jen glances at Agatha before smiling at you. “If you’re comfortable, yeah, I’d love to help you. Don’t stay up reading baby blogs, those are never helpful. I’ll get you some reliable info, okay?”

You hug her tightly. “Oh, thank you, Jen!”

After everyone’s left and the house is quiet, you move to the kitchen where the dishes from tonight’s meeting sit in the sink. You stand in front of the fridge, looking at all of the pictures and recipes and christmas cards from three months ago that hang from magnets. Arms wrap around your waist and the smell of Agatha's perfume calms you as her lips skim over your neck.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly. 

You sigh, leaning into her touch as her hand splays over your stomach. “Trying to figure out where to put the ultrasound pictures.”

She hums behind you and then takes the roll of pictures from your hands. Her arms reach out on either side of your head, and you watch as she slips the pictures beneath the magnet that holds a picture of you and Agatha at the reception after your wedding.

“There,” she says simply, wrapping her arms back around you and placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Perfect.”

__________

The second trimester rolls in quickly. You’re feral. Absolutely feral. And Agatha loves it.

It starts with a single kiss in the morning. And then the raspy morning voice when Agatha says, “Good morning.”

You bite your lip, fingers running over her bare arms as she leans over you. Agatha eyes you suspiciously, “Why are you giving me that look?”

You sigh, eyes wandering over her body–the satin nightgown that clings to her curves, her blue eyes lit up in the morning sun, the stale perfume still lingering from the previous night. 

“I just love how you sound in the morning.” You pull her down for a kiss. “And how you look, and…” You have no clue where you’re going with this and you start to ramble. “…It’s our wedding anniversary, and I’m overflowing with hormones and…” 

She giggles as she kisses you again, her voice low and seductive, “And you want me to touch you?” Her hand sneaks under your shirt as she kisses you, but she pulls away quickly, brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

Agatha pulls up your shirt, eyes wide as she looks at you. “You’re starting to show.”

“What?”

“You’re showing!”

Laying on your back, you tilt your chin to look down, and sure enough, there it is. “Oh, my god,” you mutter. You lay back, hands over your eyes. “We’re gonna have to tell them,” you huff.

Agatha’s hand rubs soothingly over your belly. “Your 20 week scan is in a couple weeks, hon. It’s gotta happen soon. Quite frankly, I was surprised they didn’t catch on when you declined the sushi they offered you.”

You drop your arms, smiling painfully up at her, “I know…I kind of liked just us knowing–aside from the coven. But everyone else is gonna make a big deal out of it.”

“Because it is a big deal,” Agatha says, pressing a kiss to your belly. “Sweetheart, you’re an Avenger. You can’t be training and doing missions. We’ve been lucky enough that Steve’s been taking ‘no’ as an answer for training recently. But sooner or later we’re going to be called for a mission, and we both know that Tony won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

You glare at her, “I hate you.”

“Only because I’m right,” Agatha smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can feel her hand drift higher, fingers wandering underneath your bunched up shirt and over your nipples. She leans in close, lips over yours as your heart races. “Would you hate me less if I give you what you want?”

“Maybe,” you tease. “I’ll be the judge of that after.”

Agatha kisses you softly, trailing her lips down your throat as her hand slips beneath your underwear. She moves back to your lips and your hands tighten their grasp on her shoulder and nightgown as her tongue moves with yours. You can feel her smile as her fingers tease you. “It’s not even nine in the morning and you’re already this wet for me?”

“It’s the hormones, I swear,” you huff, quickly pulling her back down to kiss you as she laughs.

Your head is thrown back into the pillows and your back is arched as her fingers work. She hovers over you, arm flexed, veins visible through the skin, and it turns you on even more. Agatha kisses you softly, “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are like this.”

A loud moan escapes you as her palm presses against your clit and she smiles. “You’re fucking beautiful,” she says, jaw clenched and fingers working faster. “You’re glowing. I did this to you, and everyone knows you’re mine.”

“Yes! Yes, yes!” Your hands grab at any part of her they can reach. Your lips press hard into hers and you breathe deeply. “Fuck, I’m all yours! And I want everybody to know!”

Your legs close around Agatha’s hand as you shake beneath her. You moan loudly into her mouth when she kisses you hard, fingers curling as you finish. Her kisses become softer and softer as you catch your breath.

“Okay,” you breathe. “I guess I don’t hate you as much.”

Agatha laughs and kisses you again. “What do you say we take a shower and then we can go out to brunch, and then…” She places her hand back on your belly. “..we go to the mall to look at maternity clothes?”

Before you can get out of bed, she stops you. “Wait! I almost forgot. I have an anniversary present for you.” She leans over to her nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling something out, and when she faces you again, she has her hands behind her back. 

You eye her suspiciously as she smiles, and without a word, she hands you a pair of tiny yellow rain boots with duck faces on them. You gasp and sit up quickly, turning them in your hands. “They’re ducky boots!” You look up at her with tears in your eyes. 

Agatha takes one in her hand and examines it. “They definitely won’t fit for like…a year,” she chuckles. “But when I saw them at the store I couldn’t help myself.”

You sigh and sniffle as you hold back tears. “I love you.”

The shirt you put on today is a lot more snug than it used to be, and when you actually take a look in the mirror, you’re showing more than you thought.

“How did you not realize?” Agatha asks, spitting her toothpaste into the sink.

You go into the closet, looking for a shirt or a dress that’s looser than what you have on right now, and more appropriate for brunch. “Well, I don’t–I’ve been wearing nothing but sweatpants and baggy, lazy clothes, and–leave me alone!” 

You can hear Agatha snickering as you get defensive, and you step out in another outfit. “What about this one? Is it obvious?”

Agatha wipes toothpaste from her mouth and smiles. “Give me a twirl, princess.” When you do, she acts like she’s thinking hard, but you already know how she’ll answer. “Beautiful!” she says.

You sigh, “Okay, but is it obvious that I’m pregnant?”

“You know, most people say ‘thank you’ when called beautiful,” Agatha teases, pulling you into her by your waist as you roll your eyes and hold back a smile. She places a kiss on your forehead, “But no, it’s not obvious.”

The maternity store at the Westview mall is cute. It’s not super big, but they have a decent sized selection. 

“Why are there so many dresses?” you huff. Agatha holds up a pair of maternity jeans and you make a disgusted look as she giggles. “Why can’t there be a luxury maternity clothes store?”

“For someone who grew up with very little money, you certainly are picky,” Agatha chuckles. 

You shrug, looking through a rack of shirts. “What can I say? I’ve developed a taste for more than just White Star Line stewardess uniforms.”

You end up at the checkout counter with an armful of clothing. You get antsy as you look at the cashier, seeing the recognition of the both of you in her eyes. She smiles politely, making friendly conversation, but her eyes keep drifting to your belly. You uncross your arms quickly after realizing that they’ve pushed your blouse in, defining the bump that you were trying to hide.

“Do you have a rewards account with us?” the cashier asks.

“No,” Agatha says, going to put her card in the reader.

“Would you like to sign up?” the cashier continues. “It’s free, and you’ll earn points for your next purchase.”

Agatha huffs, “Okay, sure. Fine.”

You leave the store with three bags of clothes, Agatha carrying all of them.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry one?” you ask.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she snaps. You’re taken aback by her attitude, and while it normally wouldn’t affect you, she panics as she watches your eyes flood with tears. “Oh, my god! No! I am so sorry!”

You sniffle, trying to wipe them away, but they don’t stop. “No, don’t apologize! I’m not–!” You take in a heavy, shuddering breath and Agatha takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom.

When the door closes, she locks it, setting the bags on the tiled floor. Her thumbs come to your cheeks and wipe your tears.. “Hey! Hey, look at me!” You do and she kisses your forehead, resulting in even more tears. “Take some deep breaths! Sweetheart, I need you to calm down.”

You do as she says, breathing deeply through your nose and out your mouth. “Okay,” you whimper, repeating the breathing until your tears slow.

Agatha’s hands cup your cheeks and she looks you in the eyes, voice apologetic and soft, “I am so sorry for snapping at you. It was not directed at you one bit.”

“I know,” you sniffle. “I know. It’s okay.”

Agatha grabs a paper towel and wipes away the mascara that’s running down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “Just, seeing how that cashier was looking at you–how uncomfortable you looked. It was pissing me off.” 

She tosses the paper towel into the garbage can by the door and pulls you into her arms. Her hand holds the back of your head, thumb stroking along your hair as you sniffle into her shoulder. “ She recognized us. Im sure by the time we get back to the Tower, it’ll be all over the Facebook, or the Twitter, or whatever the fuck people use now.” 

Your laugh is muffled and watery, and you sigh as it sinks in. “Yeah…” You’re quiet as she holds you, but you’re thinking. Thinking hard. “Agatha…I don’t think I wanna be an Avenger anymore.”

She pulls away quickly, shocked as she looks at you. “What do you mean? I thought you loved it.”

“I do. I do love it,” you say. “But…” Your eyes get watery again and you take a deep breath. “We have no privacy. We probably won’t even get to tell the rest of our…” You trail off, trying to find the right words. “Of our…family…that I’m pregnant, because a cashier at the maternity clothes store recognized us! We were at the OB’s office and someone tried to get it out of us!” 

You let out a sob as she holds you tighter again. “Agatha, nothing we have is ours! I don’t want our child growing up surrounded by paparazzi. I want our baby to be ours!”

Agatha wipes away her own tears quietly and pulls away. Her hands gently hold your face, like if she held you tighter you’d shatter–and maybe some of that is true. Her eyes are soft and glassy with held back tears. “Okay,” she says, voice cracking. “If you want to, we’ll leave.”

“Maybe not permanently,” you sigh, and press a kiss to her wrist. “I do love what we do, and our kid’s gotta go to school at some point, and that leaves a lot of time open on our schedule. But just…for now…do our own thing.”

“Like, picking out baby clothes?” Agatha smiles softly, thumb stroking your temple. “Painting a nursery? Having me go out in my pajamas at three in the morning to the 24-hour gas station because suddenly you’re craving a very specific kind of ice cream that only they sell?”

You let out a teary laugh, voice quiet. “Yeah…”

She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead. “Then we can do that.”

The drive back to New York City is quiet. You doze off about halfway through the drive with your hand in Agatha’s lap, and you’re woken up with a kiss to your palm.

“Wake up, buttercup, we’re here,” she says. “You can take a nap in your luxurious, unbelievably-expensive-bed.”

“Oh, what about the clothes?” You sit up quickly, rubbing your eyes.

“It’s okay,” she reassures you quietly. “I’ll put a concealment spell on the bags.”

You almost fall asleep standing up while on the elevator with Agatha. Your head bobs to the side, resting on her shoulder before you’re jolted awake by her. When in your room, you change into comfier clothes, removing your makeup and laying down on your side of the bed.

Agatha slides in beside you, hand brushing your hair back as you face her. “I love you,” she says quietly. “And no matter who gossips about us or invades our privacy, I won’t let them touch either of you.” Her hand settles on your waist. “Both of you are the most important things in my life, and if you want us to stop being Avengers for a few years, then that’s perfectly alright with me. I don’t want you stressing for any longer.”

“Okay,” you whisper, lip quivering.

“We can stay in New Jersey–which sucks, I know,” Agatha continues, and wipes a tear from your cheek. “We’ll come here for the weekend, or whenever the hell we feel like it.” She smiles as you let out a quiet laugh. “I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters to me right now.”

“I’m sorry I was too tired to do anything fun for our first anniversary,” you sigh, sleep heavy on your eyes. 

“Honey, we spent today having brunch and picking out maternity clothes for you,” Agatha says. “You’re carrying our child. I could not ask for more today.”

When you wake up, it’s dark outside and you’re curled up in front of Agatha. Her arm holds you close to her, hand resting on your belly as she breathes softly against your neck. Your hand reaches out, blindly searching for your phone on the nightstand. 

Your movements wake her and you can hear her groan behind you. “What time is it?”

After checking your phone you roll over and curl into Agatha. “Nine,” you mutter.

Agatha stretches, her arms wrapping around you. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” you mumble. “But you’re so warm, I don’t wanna get up.”

She hums before sitting up, ignoring your whining. “Come on, sleepy head. Let’s go turn food into a baby.”

The following morning doesn’t come with kisses, but with loud explosions in the dark of your blackout curtains. Your reflexes kick in and both you and Agatha are out of bed, robes on and out the bedroom door. You opt to take the stairs to the lounge and when you open the door, every resident of Stark Tower is there.

The floor-to-ceiling windows looking over Manhattan show what no one wants to see at nine in the morning: another fiery crisis to deal with and alien spaceships hovering over the city. 

“Alright, everybody on the deck in ten minutes!” Tony commands.

As the team heads for the stairs, you look at Agatha and there’s only one thing in the look she gives you. 

‘You’re staying here.’

You stay put as she follows but Tony looks back and huffs, “Come, on! Let’s go!”

“No,” Agatha says, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

Agatha’s response stops everyone in their tracks and you can see the frustration in Tony’s face border on anger. “Excuse me?” he says, whirling around to face her. 

“No,” Agatha says more firmly. “She’s not going.”

“And why not?” Tony asks, nostrils flaring.

Agatha hesitates, “She’s not feeling well.”

“I don’t care if she has the damn flu!” Tony shouts. “All of New York City is under attack right now! She’s one of the most powerful people here–!”

“I said, she’s not going!” Agatha yells back, and you can see every eye in the room on the three of you. You make eye contact with Wanda and she looks like she’s about to intervene, but she stands back.

“Why?” Tony snaps. “How sick could she possibly be to not–!”

You can see it in Agatha’s face. She’s trying to hold her tongue, she’s trying to hold back from screaming, but in the end, it slips out. “She’s pregnant!”

The room falls quiet, and the only sound is the distant explosions. Agatha sighs, her hands rubbing her face tiredly. “Shit.”

Tony turns around to look at you, and it’s like he’s an angry father who just found out his teenage daughter is pregnant. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” you sigh, looking defeated. 

“I–” Tony opens his mouth and closes it again, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Okay, both of you stay here–”

Agatha looks appalled. “What?”

“Both of you!” Tony snaps. “We’ll talk about this after.”

There’s a heavy silence as the room clears out, and when the doors to the stairs swing shut you take a heavy seat on the sofa. Agatha follows, arm immediately pulling you close as you drop your head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “It shouldn’t have come out like that.”

You press a kiss to her shoulder and take her hand. “It’s okay. Like you said, it had to happen sooner or later.”

The day drags on and eventually, in the lounge, it’s only you, Agatha, and Tony. He’s on his third whiskey after dinner and he sits back, sighing. “So, what’s the plan?”

Mindless TV plays in front of you, your head on Agatha’s shoulder, but when he asks his question, you sit up. You can feel her arm tighten on your waist and you hesitate. “Well, the twenty week ultrasound is next wednesday…” He nods carefully and you fiddle with your fingers. “And–umm–we’re moving back to New Jersey. We’re gonna leave the team for a few years…but we’ll visit on weekends.”

“I figured,” Tony shrugs. “That house is pretty small, though. Nice backyard, but that second bedroom can’t even be called a bedroom.”

Agatha scoffs. “I’ve been trying to tell her that, but she won’t listen.”

 “I’m not arguing about this,” you sigh. “I’m too tired for it.”

“You know, if you’d like, I could move you closer,” Tony suggests. “Doesn’t have to be in the city, but close enough that you don’t have to drive almost an hour to and from.”

You smile tiredly, “That’s a very nice offer, Tony, but we can’t ask you to do that. You’ve done so much already.”

He finishes the rest of his whiskey, and gets up, setting the glass down on the liquor cart. “Just think about it.” When he comes back over, his hands are on his hips. “We’re gonna miss having you around here. Both of you.”

“I’m having a baby, Tony. I’m not dying,” you deadpan. 

“I’m happy for you, really,” he says. “You’ve done a lot for us, so I want to do everything I can to help you out–even if that means buying a brownstone for you in the Upper West Side.”

Wednesday morning you’re woken up by a flurry of kisses on your face.

“Good morning,” Agatha mutters, pressing a light kiss to your lips. “Are you excited to find out what we’re having?”

You hum in amusement, “Don’t you want it to be a surprise?” 

“Are you serious?” Agatha asks, kissing you again. “This entire thing was a surprise.”

“Touché.” You swish your lips from side to side. “Alright, fine. But only because I’m too excited to go clothes shopping for them.”

Agatha kisses you on the forehead and smiles. “That’s a good enough reason for me.”

Once again, you’re on the table watching Agatha fold your clothes. The lights are dimmed when the sonographer comes in–this one is much less chipper than the previous one–and Agatha’s at your side immediately.

“So, are we wanting to find out the sex of the baby today?” the sonographer asks as she sets up her equipment.

Agatha squeezes your hand and you smile, “Yeah, when you’re having a baby at 149-years-old you don’t need any more surprises.”

The sonographer pauses for a moment and then a look of realization flashes across her face. “Right–witches, Avengers.” She lets out a breathy laugh. “Alright, now my favorite thing to ask: what do you think it’ll be?”

As she applies the gel to your belly you look up at Agatha, smiling. “What do you think it’ll be?”

You notice a brief flash of anxiety on her face before she answers, “A girl.”

“Alright, we’ll go with girl,” you say as the wand presses into your skin.

The heartbeat is strong and the sonographer points to various parts of the screen. “They are all curled up in there! Here’s the profile of it–you can see the little nose and–oh, looks like they’re yawning!”

You smile brightly and you hear a shaky breath from Agatha. Her free hand goes to your head, a comforting weight as she sits beside you.

“Alright,” the sonographer says, “a little pressure–we’re gonna move over here. There are the little feet, its legs, and you can see a hand right there.” As she goes along clicks can be heard when freezing the screen to take a picture. “And, if we move over here…it looks like…you are having…a girl!”

When you look over, Agatha’s smiling. But there’s more to it. Yes, there’s happiness, there’s excitement, but there’s something else there–relief. She presses a kiss to your forehead and sighs.

The appointment goes by quickly and soon, Agatha’s helping you into your newest pair of maternity pants. She slips the roll of ultrasound pictures into her purse and takes your hand, but when you’re back in the waiting room you freeze.

“Why the hell are you all here?” 

A receptionist comes up to you, talking quietly, “I apologize, ma’am. I told them they can’t–”

“It’s okay,” you say, cutting her off with a polite smile. “Thank you.”

A whole group is standing there. Tony, Steve, Nat, Wanda, the whole coven, Billy and Peter, Bucky, Sam, Clint, Bruce, Thor, and Loki. 

“We wanna know what you’re having!” Steve smiles brightly, waiting for you to answer.

You and Agatha look at each other, and when your eyes meet you can see that you both have the same idea. 

“A healthy baby,” you smile. You pull Agatha through the waiting room. “Come on, I’m craving that one lunch place a few blocks away.”

Before you can open the door, you’re stopped by them again. “Can we please know what you’re having?” Billy asks.

You look at all of them as Agatha opens the door for you. “A healthy baby,” you repeat. “That’s what we’re having. You can find out the sex in twenty weeks.”

You survive their endless pestering throughout the day, and now, you lay in bed with Agatha, talking into the dark–baby names, nursery themes, whose eyes the baby would get, what color magic. But there’s one thing on your mind.

“Agatha,” you say. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.”

“When the sonographer said it was a girl…” you start, thinking about how to word your question. “You looked relieved–like you didn’t want it to be a boy.”

“That’s not a question,” she mumbles into your collarbone. 

“Agatha,” you sigh. “You know what I mean.”

She’s quiet, and you can tell she’s thinking hard. You hear her swallow and take a deep breath. “If…we had a boy…do you…” You can hear the wheels turning in her head, wondering if she should even ask it, if it’s even worth being vulnerable. “Do you think Nicky would feel like he was being replaced?”

Your stomach drops and you feel the hand she had on your belly recoil into herself. “Agatha,” you whisper, heart breaking. “Look at me.” You turn to face her and you can see the uncomfortable look on her face. “Nicky would never think he was being replaced. Do you think you’re replacing him?”

Agatha turns over to lay on her back, huffing in frustration. “I don’t–maybe? I mean, it was 300 years ago, I shouldn’t…even be thinking…”

“Agatha, you’re not replacing him,” you reassure her. You lean over her, forcing her to look you in the eyes. “Loving your daughter doesn’t mean loving Nicky any less, okay?” She nods slowly and you kiss her. “This isn’t going to be like last time. You can be happy, Agatha. You deserve to be happy.” 

“Okay,” she mutters. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kiss her again, and when you pull away you sigh. “And do you know what I deserve? A pregnancy pillow.”

Agatha laughs and kisses you again, pulling you into her arms. “We’ll go out tomorrow to get you one. How about that?”

You’ve forgotten what life outside the city was like. You’re three weeks into living in Westview. It didn’t take long to move everything back to Westview–most of it was clothes, and even then, you were building a new wardrobe that actually fit you. 

Your life is much quieter now–filled with lamaze classes, doctors appointments, and tea with the coven. It’s slow. Peaceful. You wake up, take your vitamins, Agatha makes you breakfast, and with it being spring, you’ll usually retire to the backyard to work in the garden. It’s pure, domestic bliss.

You stand in the cereal aisle of the grocery store. The list crinkles in your hand as you stand there, looking at the vast expanse of cereal options, and Agatha waits patiently beside you with the cart.

“So…” Agatha starts. “What cereal–?”

“I don’t know,” you say absentmindedly. “It just says cereal.”

Agatha swishes her lips, “Okay, well, while you decide what cereal you want, I’m going to get the frozens.”

You barely acknowledge her, only offering a quiet, “Mhm.” 

You can barely remember your name–it’s like your brain is completely shutting itself off and refusing to remember anything. Just the other day, you were heating up leftovers in the microwave and you sat down on the couch, completely forgetting about them and dozing off. When Agatha got home an hour later, the TV was on, you were knocked out, and the leftovers were still in the microwave–cold again.

And when she woke you up to tell you, it led to tears.

And now, you’re in the cereal aisle with a half-complete grocery list and only a vague idea of what kind of cereal you want.

Agatha rounds the corner quickly, frozen foods in her arms. She drops them into the cart, clearly frustrated as she huffs, hands on her hips. “We have a problem.”

“Oh, hi,” you say. “Where’d you go?”

“Frozen food aisle,” she sighs. “We have a problem.” She leans against the cart, fingers tapping on the metal impatiently. “We’re in the suburbs.”

You look at her, confused. “Um…Yeah…?”

“No,” Agatha huffs. “I mean, we’re a suburban family. We’re grocery shopping at a Trader Joe’s.” She starts gesturing around her dramatically. “There are vitamin supplements in our cart. I was just in the frozen foods aisle and I was met with “hey neighbor”. I just ran into one of our neighbors. I don’t even know his name! We are not suburban people!”

“Agatha, honey. It’s okay,” you say softly.

Her jaw tenses and she purses her lips. “Do you know what we were doing, what, five months ago? Fucking in the Adirondacks.”

“Okay. Lower your voice, first of all,” you scoff, throwing whatever cereal boxes into the cart. “Second of all, yes. I know. The result is right in front of you. And, third…maybe it’s good.”

As you push the cart through the aisle she walks beside you. “Good?” she repeats, eyes wide.

“Yeah…” you shrug. You turn down the snack aisle and push a bag of animal crackers off the shelf and into the cart without stopping. “I mean you’re almost 356 years old and I’m 149. We’ve been through a lot—sinking ships, witch trials, like…a shit ton of wars. Maybe it’s good that things are slowing down.”

Agatha sighs, “Well can we slow down in a luxury apartment in Manhattan?”

“You actually wanna move to New York City? We’re about to have a baby in four months.”

“It doesn’t have to be midtown,” Agatha says, and puts a bag of veggie chips into the cart. “There’s Greenwich, the West Village—townhouses have more than one and a half bedrooms”

You pause and raise an eyebrow at her. “One and a half?”

“Oh please, that bedroom might as well be a storage room,” Agatha scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Besides, we haven’t started on the nursery yet. And Brownstones are nice.”

“Brownstones are expensive,” you counter.

“Tony told us that he’ll move us closer to the Tower.”

“What about backyards?” you ask. “I don’t wanna have to go to a park every time I want our kid to go outside.“

“I looked up some brownstones in the city. The backyards aren’t bad,” Agatha says, hand resting on your back.

You stop in the middle of the aisle, looking up at her with a hand on your hip. “You’ve already looked up new houses for us to move to?”

“They’re bigger!” Agatha says, exasperated. “There’s one with four rooms. We should move now instead of when we have more kids–”

“When?” You start grinning. “More? Our daughter hasn’t even been born yet.”

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. “Um–well–I mean–I quite like you in this state…”

“Oh, so you wanna keep me like this?” you tease. “Your perfect, pregnant little wife?”

“We’re getting off topic here,” she says, giving you a pointed look as you keep walking. “Just think about it. We’ve lived in the suburbs since 2026–me since 2023, no thanks to Wanda—and now we’re about to have a kid. Things are already going to change. Why not move now?”

“Okay fine,” you sigh. “You have some good points. I’ll think about it.”

It didn’t take much convincing later that night, which isn’t surprising considering the position you were in when she brought it up again–on your back, slick with sweat, and in her arms as you both laid in the post-sex bliss that she always brought you. 

She called Tony the next morning, discussing each feature the new house needs to have–at least three bedrooms, a decent sized backyard, hardwood floors, a fireplace, renovated yet classy, she had more needs than you. They spent days with a realtor, discussing pricing and location and selling your current house, and then came the tours.

You and Agatha saw at least five houses in the span of two weeks: two in Greenwich, two in West Village, and one on the Upper East Side. You were in the Upper East Side townhouse for less than ten minutes before she turned it down, and by the time you’re reaching the third trimester, you’ve both decided on one in the West Village.

It’s cozy, with four bedrooms and hardwood floors from the original build. There are two fireplaces, one in the living room and one in yours and Agatha’s bedroom, and a nice backyard with a patio and room to run around in. And as Tony promised, he paid for it all–leading to you sobbing your ‘thank you’s.

By the time you’re completely moved in, you’re approaching your eighth month of pregnancy. Your ankles are swollen, you’re the size of a cantaloupe, and your back aches constantly. Agatha eventually has to sleep with ear plugs because of how loud you snore–and you cried when you found out–and every time you stand up, you feel like you’re going to lose balance.

After finishing the nursery, Agatha guides you in with her hands over your eyes. When she removes them, you’re met with elephants and soft greens and dusty pinks. The cream colored crib that you had picked out together sits against the far left wall and all of the furniture is placed exactly where you wanted it. And it’s perfect. It’s exactly as you imagined. 

“Are you crying?” Agatha asks softly.

You sniffle and wipe your eyes. “Yeah, it’s okay. It’s good crying. I promise.” You hug Agatha tightly and kiss her. “Okay, my back is killing me. I need to sit down.”

You take a seat in the plush armchair that you chose specifically because it’s a rocking chair. When you lean back, hand on your belly, Agatha sits down on the small ottoman and takes your foot, fingers rubbing the pressure points as you sigh.

“How many people do we have coming to the baby shower?” you ask, resting your head on your hand as you stare at her with nothing but love in your eyes.

“Well,” Agatha starts, “there’s the coven, that’s five. Then there’s Tony, Nat, Steve, Clint, Bruce, Peter and Sam. And Thor and Loki said they might be able to come. So, possibly fourteen.”

You hum, thinking. “We’ll have to lock the door to this room. The only one who knows is Jen–and probably Lilia–and god knows someone will try to snoop around to find out.”

Thankfully, everyone who arrives at the baby shower gets what’s only on the registry–Agatha was very stern about it. But when Alice walks in, your jaw drops.

“You brought wine and premixed margaritas to my baby shower?” you gawk.

“Who brought wine?” Wanda perks up at the kitchen table. “I’ll get the cork screw.”

“Margaritas too!” Alice cheers, and joins Wanda in the kitchen with the rest of the coven. 

Lilia pours herself a glass of red, “Agatha would you like a glass?”

“No, thank you,” Agatha says, hand rubbing your back as you cross your arms.

The coven stops and looks at her.

“What, are you pregnant too?” Jen scoffs.

“No,” Agatha pipes up. “I’m standing in solidarity with my wife.”

You’re beginning to regret having your baby shower in the third trimester. You’re exhausted, and by five o’clock you’re growing irritated because you and Agatha haven’t been able to take your daily walk, and on top of that you’re being continuously kicked in your ribs. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Agatha comes to stand behind the couch, her hands running over your shoulders as she leans down to kiss your temple.

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Just tired.”

Agatha glances around the room at everyone and lowers her voice so only you can hear. “Do you want me to kick everyone out?”

You giggle and shake your head. “No, you don’t have to kick everyone out.”

“Dammit,” Agatha groans. “I was really hoping you’d say yes.”

By seven, everyone is gone and it’s just the two of you. These have always been your favorite moments–the quiet nights spent in Agatha’s arms while something plays on the TV in the background, and the only other sound is her heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I know we got a pretty good amount today,” Agatha mutters, “but do you wanna go shopping for baby clothes tomorrow?”

Your hand fidgets with the wedding band on her ring finger. “Sure.” 

When you pick up that first frilly, pink satin dress you want to cry–and a few tears do slip out. “It’s so cute,” you whimper, and throw it in the basket. “We’re gonna have the cutest baby ever.”

Agatha’s hand settles on your lower back as you continue through the store, gasping at every piece of clothing you see. “”Sweetheart, you can’t take home every single article of clothing you see. I know you’re nesting, but you’re going a bit overboard,” Agatha says. “She won’t even grow into any of this for at least three months.”

“Well, you know me,” you shrug, and look through a rack of clothes. “I like to be prepared.”

“One more dress,” Agatha sighs. “And that’s it.”

“One dress and two shirts,” you counter.

Agatha stares at you and then relents, “Fine. One dress and one shirt. And then I wanna get dinner after this, I’m starving.”

You’re a week overdue, and you’re miserable. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, honey?” Agatha asks from the stove as she cooks breakfast. 

You take a bite of an apple slice at the kitchen table and huff, “Oh, I dunno. Can you get this baby out of me? Or, you could apply my hemorrhoid cream for me, how about that?” Your words get louder as you go on. “Oh, maybe you could remove a couple ribs so that the soccer player I’m carrying has room to move!”

Agatha looks around awkwardly. “Well, I mean–I could apply the–”

“I was being facetious, Agatha,” you say, glaring at her. When she sets your plate in front of you, she presses a kiss to your forehead and you sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted. I can’t sleep, I need help putting on my shoes, and I’m the size of a fucking pumpkin.”

“How about we go to the nail salon today?” Agatha suggests. “You said you wanted to get a pedicure done, but we never had time.”

You sigh, “Yeah, alright.”

The fumes of the nail salon hit you stronger than ever before. You’re settled into the spa chair with Agatha right beside you, picking out a color for her toenails as the technicians set up their stations. 

“I usually go for purple, but I’m thinking maybe pink this time,” Agatha murmurs, thinking to herself.

“I think pink would look cute,” you shrug. “What about orange for fall?”

“Mm…Maybe closer to Halloween,” she mutters, and looks over at you, smiling. “Yeah, I’ll go with pink.”

The nail technicians assigned to you and Agatha are engrossed in her stories. You lean back, relaxing as you listen to Agatha gossiping with the woman who starts to paint her toenails.

“I just think she should mind her own business, you know?” Agatha scoffs. “And then there was the time…” 

She could talk for days and days and you would never get tired. But a low, dull ache begins to settle in your abdomen. Your face contorts into obvious discomfort as you adjust your position in the seat.

Agatha pauses her story and looks at you, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you wince. “I’m fine. Just uncomfortable–Oh!” Your hand squeezes the arm of the chair as dull ache tightens.

“That was not a Braxton Hicks,” she says, and the two techs look at you with concern.

“No, I’m fine! Finish the pedicure!” you insist, and while the tech continues to paint, Agatha doesn’t relax. Her jaw tightens and you can feel the warning look she's giving you. 

When the tightening sensation returns you try your best to hide it, but when you know someone for almost 120 years, you pick up on their tells.

“Okay, no!” Agatha says sternly. “Come on, we’re going!”

“No!” you cry, and look at the tech in front of you. “Finish my nails! We have time!”

“You’re a week overdue, we’re going now!” Agatha says. She gives the tech assigned to you a sharp look. “Put the nail polish down, now!”

“Agatha, no! It needs to dry! Let him finish!” you beg, and another wave of pain crests through.

“Is it gel?”Agatha asks him quickly, and when he shakes his head, snaps her head back to you. “Put your flip-flops on, they can dry in the car, hon!”

With her own nails still wet, she gets down from the chair and slips her sandals on. She digs out her wallet from her purse and tosses a fifty on the chair before helping you down. Her arm goes around your waist as she rushes you out, all eyes on the both of you. 

“Wait!” you cry, waddling towards the door with your hand in hers. “I don’t want to mess up my pedicure! Slow down!”

“Sweetheart, that is the least of my concerns!” she shoots back. When Agatha helps you into the car, she pulls out her phone and you can hear her on the phone with Jen as she rounds the car.

She starts the car quickly, and she has a complete disregard for the rules of the road.

“Agatha!” you shout, holding onto the dashboard. “Pull over! Now!” She does as you say and you turn to her, “Take a deep breath. Please. You’re more worried than I am and I’m the one in labor.”

She looks over, nostrils flared, jaw clenched, and knuckles white on the wheel. “Okay,” she croaks, and breathes deeply.

“Okay,” you repeat. “Are you okay?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” you say again, your own breath shaking. “Let’s go.”

This time, Agatha decides to follow the rules of the road. Her hand doesn’t leave yours once until you pull into the hospital parking lot. When she helps you out of the car, you snicker to yourself. “I bet you’re glad I nagged you to put the hospital bag in the car the other day.”

“Walk,” Agatha groans, and you giggle.

In the hospital room, you slip the gown on as Agatha watches, perched on the edge of the bed. “Give me a twirl, princess.”

You huff and give her a slow, cautious turn. “Good?”

“Perfect,” she smiles.

Agatha makes you as comfortable as possible in bed–pillows in between your legs, under your arms, cups of ice chips after cups of ice chips. As the hours pass, Jen arrives, helping with pain management and whatever the nurses can’t do for you. 

Around four hours later, at 6pm, the whole coven plus Tony, Nat, and Steve, are in the room, despite you being doubled over on the bed, clutching on tightly to Agatha’s hand. You’re becoming irritated quickly, even with all the well-wishes and balloons and flowers.

“I don’t want them in here,” you groan, another contraction washing over you. 

Agatha looks confused. “What?”

“Get them out of here!” you seethe. 

“Oh, okay!” Agatha pauses. “Um…Even Jen?”

“Yes! Send them to the fucking waiting room!” you cry. “I only want you in here!”

Agatha ushers the group out of the room, and for once, apologizes to Jen.

“It’s not personal,” Jen says. “I understand. It’s okay.”

At midnight, you’re in the hallway of labor and delivery taking a walk when your water breaks, and you start crying because of how bad you feel. Agatha reassures you that you’ve done nothing wrong, but you’re a complete mess.

She sits on the couch in the hospital room. Your forehead rests against her chest as you rock on a yoga ball, her hands massaging your lower back. Your hand tightens its grip on her arm as a strong, sharp pain rips through you. 

It’s then that you finally decide to take the offer of an epidural–and you’ve never been more relieved. You sit on the edge of the bed, squeezing Agatha’s hand as the catheter is placed in your back, and after about twenty minutes, it starts to kick in.

“You should try and get some sleep,” Agatha murmurs, coming to sit back down beside you after dimming the room lights.

You hum, trying to keep your eyes open. “You should too.”

But there’s no chance in hell of that. 

You’ve been asleep for maybe an hour when two nurses assigned to you enter the room and wake you. The older one washes her hands and slips on a pair of gloves and the younger goes over to the fetal heart monitor, analyzing the graph in comparison to your contractions. When the first nurse is finished checking your cervix, she joins the other nurse.

“What’s the matter?”

Agatha’s hearing seems to increase tenfold. 

“Looks like the baby is having late decels,” the second nurse mutters.

“She’s only at four centimeters,” the older one whispers.

“How long has she been in labor?”

“About nine hours.”

“I’m sorry,” Agatha speaks up. “What’s the matter?”

The nurses turn toward you, the older one wearing a look that she’s rehearsed for these kinds of conversations. “The baby’s heart rate is dropping. It’s not too serious right n–”

“Not too serious?” Agatha repeats, her tone sharp. “Our child’s heart rate is dropping and you’re saying it’s not serious? I want a doctor in here right now.”

“Ma’am, I assure you–”

“I want a doctor in here!” Agatha shouts, standing up from her seat. “Now!”

Both of the nurses leave the room and Agatha lets out a frustrated sigh, sitting back down and taking your hand. Her other hand goes to your forehead, pushing back the flyaways sticky with sweat.

You lay there, eyes closed and trying to even out your breathing as you feel her thumb stroke along the back of your hand. Your eyes, still heavy with sleep, open when the doctor enters the room.

She reads the fetal monitor, analyzing every last bit of information on it. You watch her lips purse in thought and then she sighs. “You should have gotten me sooner,” she says to the nurses.

“What the hell is happening?” Agatha asks, eyes wide with panic.

“Your baby’s heart rate, for about the past hour, has been decreasing,” the doctor explains. “It’s not uncommon after receiving epidurals. Hypotension is seen a lot and your blood pressure has dropped a bit, and that usually ends up decreasing blood flow to the placenta. We’ll administer some fluids and have you lay on your side. But if it doesn’t change within an hour, maybe an hour and a half, we’re looking at a possible cesarean.”

Before the doctor can leave, Agatha gets out of the hospital recliner and lowers her voice. “If it’s possible, I’d like a nurse that actually knows what the hell they’re doing when caring for my wife.”

You watch the doctor nod and leave, and sure enough, fifteen minutes later, there’s a new night-shift nurse walking in with IV fluids. You lay on your side, facing Agatha while she holds your hand. With the bed rail down, and her reclining, it’s almost like you’re side-by-side in bed. Almost. 

You doze off again, hand limp in Agatha’s. When the lights flicker on an hour later, the new nurse and the doctor are back. In the past hour you’ve barely dilated and you can see the worry in the doctor’s face. 

She sighs after typing something on the computer. “Unfortunately, your baby’s heart rate hasn’t gone up. Your contractions aren’t doing what they’re doing, and the stress of that, combined with the hypotension is causing that. We will need to perform an emergency cesarean.”

“No,” you mumble, shaking your head. “No, I don’t want surgery.”

Agatha sighs, eyes heavy as she looks at you, “Sweetheart, I d–”

“It’s not optional,” the doctor says. “If we don’t deliver the baby as soon as possible, both you and the baby are at risk of injury.”

Your lips tremble and tears prick your eyes. “Okay,” you cry. “Alright.”

The clock on the operating room wall reads 4:03am.

Agatha sits beside you in the blue scrubs they had her change into, mask covering her mouth and nose, and blue hairnet containing the brunette mess of hair on her head. “I’m sorry it’s not going how you planned. You didn’t even want an epidural and now look where we are.”

“It’s okay,” you sigh as a nasal cannula is placed around your head. “You look hot in those scrubs, though.”

Agatha smiles, “Really?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “You’d be a really hot surgeon. You sure you don’t wanna watch them slice into me?”

Agatha makes a gagging sound. “I think I’ll stay here.”

“Okay,” the surgeon says. “10-blade, please.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Her hand rests on the cap that holds your hair, thumb running soothingly over the soft skin of your forehead. “It’s okay,” she mutters behind the mask. 

It takes the surgeon about two minutes to do the procedure. Agatha stands, eyes watering and watching as they pull your baby from the opening in your abdomen. But it’s quiet. Too quiet. And then there’s the dreadful sight and sound of doctors rushing around.

“I don’t hear crying,” you panic, tears starting to fall down your temples. “Why isn’t she crying? Agatha, what’s happening? Why isn’t–why isn’t she crying?”

And then you hear it. The piercing shriek that means life.

You watch Agatha exhale with relief above you and you yourself do the same as tears flood your eyes. Your daughter, tiny and squirming, is wrapped loosely in a blanket and handed to Agatha. She sits back down beside you on the stool, lowering her carefully so you can see her properly. 

You crane your neck to press a kiss to her forehead, lips trembling and eyes watery. And as you look at her, you’re unable to form any thought that isn’t about her.

By the time you’re brought back to your room, the sun is rising. You’re exhausted, but the sight of your daughter in your arms makes you want to stay awake for as long as you can. Agatha sits beside you on the bed, shoes kicked off and completely relaxed. One arm is wrapped around you while the other reaches down, finger brushing against the soft cheek of your newborn daughter.

“What about ‘Daphne’?” you ask quietly, not wanting to wake the baby.

“‘Daphne’?” Agatha repeats.

You look down at your daughter, smiling softly. “It was the first name that came to mind when I saw her.”

Agatha smiles, watching as the baby looks up at you both, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as she gurgles. “Daphne it is then.”

At nine, Agatha receives a text. “Tony’s bringing breakfast for everyone. What would you like?”

“Everyone?” you repeat.

“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “You know they’re all coming to visit this morning.”

You chuckle, “Surprise me. I’m starving. I’ll eat anything.”

By ten in the morning, your room is filled with people and the smell of breakfast foods.

“Alright,” Tony says. “We’ve patiently waited. What is it?”

“It’s a healthy baby,” you shrug, and pop a grape into your mouth as you cradle her in one arm. You and Agatha giggle together as everyone groans, but you finally give in. “It’s a healthy baby girl,” you smile.

“You owe me fifty bucks, Rogers!” Tony says.

“Wanda owes me ten,” Nat comments.

Alice hands Billy a twenty from her pocket and you sit there in shock. “You were gambling on what sex our child would be?”

“You made us wait until they were born to find out,” Nat says, shoving a piece of pancake into her mouth. “What do you expect?”

“What’s her name?” Billy asks.

Agatha sits on the edge of the bed, a genuine smile on her face. “Her name is Daphne.”

As you sit in the hospital bed wearing the fuzzy pink robe Agatha brought you, you watch your family. You watch them talk, and hear them laugh. You think back to that day in the parking lot–crying as Agatha held you, panicking because you had no idea if this was something you truly wanted or thought you could do. You think back to every moment filled with anxiety, every late night conversation with Agatha, fears spoken in the dark. 

But a weight in your arms grounds you. You look down at the tiny baby fast asleep in your arms. You look at the yellow crocheted blanket that Lilia made for her. The ducky boots that Agatha gave you on your anniversary. The frilly dresses, and the hair bows.

You questioned once if you were okay with this. But now, as you look around the room, you realize that you’re more than okay with this. You’re more than okay with the family you found, and with the woman you love, and more okay than ever with what the two of you created–your little Daphne.

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part twenty-three

861 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one twenty-two

Eddie was so casual when he suggested his house for their meeting today. Yet, Steve isn’t even the one bringing him to his place, and he’s definitely freaked out - a not insignificant amount.

He follows closely behind Eddie’s van, and soon enough, they pull into Forest Hills Trailer Park. Steve has never been here before. He watches as Eddie climbs out of his van and bounds up the steps. Eddie unlocks the door and holds it open, waiting for Steve. The jock grabs his backpack and meets Eddie at the top of the stairs.

Eddie dips forward into some semblance of a bow, holding his arm out in welcome. Steve shakes his head in amusement and walks past him through the front door, which leads straight into the living room. 

Steve tries his best to subtly ogle in the space. What catches his attention immediately are the rows and rows of novelty mugs and baseball caps lining the walls. Behind him, Eddie shuts and locks the door before flopping onto the loveseat.

Eddie also looks around the space. If he’s anything like Steve, he’s trying to see his home with fresh eyes. Eddie meets Steve’s gaze. “Sorry about the mess. The maid took the week off,” he says, deadpan.

Steve cracks a smile and Eddie grins. With the tension broken, Steve feels comfortable enough to make his way to the loveseat as well, sitting on the opposite side. He unzips his bag and takes out his portrait, and Eddie opens his own bag to do the same. 

Steve bites his lip to tamp down his smile when he notices Eddie holding the pencil and eraser Steve gave him a week ago. 

They discard their bags onto the floor.

Steve pauses just as he’s about to unveil his art, side-eyeing Eddie enough to catch that the boy’s gaze is absolutely trained on what Steve’s doing. He turns his head to Eddie, and the boy looks away innocently. Steve doesn’t trust him one bit. 

He considers moving to the recliner in the corner, but that’s too far from Eddie (Steve doesn’t even bother attempting to convince himself he only wants to be close to him for practical, project-related reasons - he’s all too aware how smitten he is for this idiot). Instead, he turns sideways on the couch and sits criss-crossed, facing Eddie. The other teen freezes minutely before following Steve’s lead.

Soon enough, they get lost in their work. Steve tries his best to ignore the way their knees are pressed together, but the solid pressure is as distracting as it is comforting. 

He had thought that maybe now, with them alone and not in public, Eddie might finally want to acknowledge the notes, but this is okay too. It’s better, actually - Eddie is more comfortable now that he’s in his own space. As much as Steve adores Eddie’s usual persona, he loves to see him like this - with loose limbs and soft smiles. He has to admit, this is the easiest it’s ever been to capture Eddie’s likeness on paper.

An hour into their meeting, Eddie stands with a groan and stretches until his back pops. “Do you want something to drink? Coke? Water? Juice?” he asks expectantly as he makes his way to the small kitchen.

“Juice sounds good,” Steve calls and Eddie hums in confirmation. He comes back a minute later with two mugs. 

“Cider, your highness,” Eddie presents the drink, thankfully not dipping into another bow.

“Thanks, man.” Steve accepts the mug and holds it up to his face to get a good look at the art on it. It’s a rooster. The inside and top of the mug are a pretty yellow color. Steve kind of likes it. 

Eddie’s, on the other hand, is horrendous.

Eddie sees Steve looking at the mug and brings it to his mouth, making sure the face is on display and pointing at Steve. He keeps eye contact, his huge eyes peering over the orange ceramic ears looking silly. Still, the attention makes Steve break eye contact with warm cheeks.

Eddie takes one last pull from his mug before setting it on the coffee table. “Alright, break’s over. Back to work,” he declares.

Eddie i don’t know if you remember when i told you that i don’t read books outside of class, but i might’ve stretched the truth just a little bit  when I first noticed you, you always had your nose buried and a book i went to the library and found one that had made a couple appearances and knew and must be one you really liked because your name was on the log card like five times  and i gotta say, after reading it for myself, i don’t understand how you can read that shit all the time i’m pretty sure at least 50% was just made up words honestly, i don’t think i even know what it was about hey, maybe that’s why you read it so many times; you still don’t get it either ;)  p.s. maybe you have the right idea - i’ll have to give it another try  p.s.s. you looked real nice yesterday -H

twenty-four

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[alohajix]

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭

Description: working the late shift at a nearly empty diner isn’t glamorous—but it pays the bills. Savannah’s used to the quiet, the tired regulars, and the occasional flirt. But when a tattooed stranger with a slow smile walks in after midnight, the tension builds fast and burns hot. One cup of bitter coffee turns into a filthy, unforgettable encounter behind the counter.

Warnings: stranger!Harry, soft dom!Harry, kitchen sex, filthy talk, roughness, praise kink, fingering, oral (f. & m. receiving), consent check-ins, light aftercare. Readers +18.

Words count: ~ 6K.

*****

It was nearly 1 a.m. when the diner bell rang. I didn’t even flinch anymore—not this deep into the shift. The sound had become background noise like the soft sizzle from the kitchen or the hum of fluorescent lights overhead. I didn’t look up right away either, just scribbled the last few words of an order on my pad and slid it through the window to Richie in the back.

“Table seven’s still waiting on their eggs,” I called, voice flat with exhaustion.

“Tell ’em to relax,” Richie grunted. “They ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

I rolled my eyes and finally turned toward the front. That’s when I saw him. He was tall—really tall—wearing a loose white tee that clung just enough to suggest the kind of build that made you look twice. Ink crawled up both arms, black lines and shading peeking out from under the short sleeves. He had a mess of brown curls that looked almost too good for someone walking into a grimy diner at 1 a.m., and his jeans hung low on his hips like he didn’t give a damn. But it was his eyes that got me. Sharp and soft at the same time. Like he’d seen too much and still managed to find a reason to smirk about it.

He slid into the booth in the far corner, back against the wall, one arm draped along the top of the seat like he owned the place. I grabbed my pad, stepped behind the counter, and made my way over.

“You know we serve better food before midnight, right?” I asked, stopping at his table.

He looked up slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Then he smiled—and holy hell, it was lazy and crooked and completely unfair.

“Good thing I’m not here for the food.”

My eyebrow arched. “You lost or just feeling bold tonight?”

“Maybe both.” His voice was smooth, with a soft British accent I hadn’t expected. “Got in late. Was driving through, saw the lights on. Figured I’d take my chances.”

“You always gamble with greasy eggs and burned toast?”

“I’ve gambled on worse.”

I bit back a smirk and tapped my pen against the pad. “Well, mystery man, you want coffee?”

“Only if you make it.”

I gave him a look. “It’s from a pot that’s been sitting there since ten. My magic won’t save it.”

He leaned forward just slightly. “I don’t mind it bitter.”

There it was—just a flicker. The tiniest shift in his tone that pulled something tight in my stomach. I hated that. I also didn’t hate it.

“Black?” I asked, already turning.

“Please,” he called after me.

The warmth of his stare followed me all the way back to the counter. I poured the coffee, grabbed a mug, and headed back—ignoring Richie’s snort as he muttered something about me “playing waitress of the year.” I slid the mug onto the table in front of the stranger without spilling a drop. “Try not to cry when it hits your taste buds.”

He took a sip, hissed softly through his teeth, and nodded like he’d just accepted a challenge. “Yeah. That’s awful.”

“Told you.”

“But you brought it anyway,” he said, eyes flicking up to mine again. “That’s sweet of you.”

“I’m not sweet,” I muttered, tucking my pen behind my ear. “Don’t mistake sarcasm for kindness.”

“I won’t. But I like both on you.” Jesus.

He didn’t say it with a wink or a sleazy grin, either. Just…soft and easy. Confident in a way that didn’t feel forced. He was the kind of guy who probably got what he wanted without needing to raise his voice. Or his hands.

I cleared my throat and forced my gaze toward the order pad. “You hungry or just here to flirt with the help?”

He tilted his head. “Depends. What’s good?”

“Nothing after midnight.”

“Lie to me.”

I fought back a smile. “Alright. The pancakes are divine. Light as clouds. Eggs cooked to perfection. Sausage links that’ll change your life.”

He grinned. “You’re not even trying to be convincing.”

“You asked for a lie. That was it.”

He chuckled, eyes dropping to my name tag for the first time. “Savannah.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Your name.” He nodded toward my chest. “Didn’t wanna keep calling you ‘waitress.’ Felt impersonal.”

My face burned. It wasn’t even the way he said it—it was the way his eyes lingered for a beat too long, like he hadn’t just been reading.

I crossed my arms. “And you are…?”

He paused. “Harry.”

“Last name?”

“Do you need one?”

“I like to know who I’m insulting.”

He laughed again—quiet, genuine. “Just Harry.”

“Well, Just Harry, pick something off the damn menu before I decide you’re not worth the caffeine.”

He lifted the sticky laminated menu, held it between two tattooed fingers, and said, “Surprise me.”

“Brave,” I murmured, already writing something down. “You might regret that.”

“Doubt it,” he said, leaning back. “You’ve got a good face for trust.”

I snorted. “You’ve clearly never been here before.”

I slipped the order in with Richie—somehow convincing him to fry up a fresh egg without complaining too much—and found myself glancing back toward the corner table more than I meant to.

Harry hadn’t pulled out a phone. He hadn’t asked for WiFi. He just…sat there. Watching the world with a slight tilt to his head like it was all one big inside joke he hadn’t shared yet. He caught me staring. I rolled my eyes and turned back to wipe the counter even though it was already clean. I didn’t get flustered over strangers. And definitely not over the kind with arms like that and a voice that curled around my spine.

I brought his plate over about ten minutes later—eggs, toast, hash browns, and two sausage links I only cooked because I didn’t want him leaving too soon. He looked up, those slow green eyes locking onto mine like he already knew what I was thinking.

“Didn’t poison it, did you?” he asked, smiling as I set the plate down.

“Too expensive,” I said. “Besides, if you died here, I’d have to mop around your corpse until someone showed up. Doesn’t sound like fun.”

“Mm. Caring and practical.” He dragged his fork through the eggs. “You’re really ruining my whole brooding loner fantasy.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I deadpanned, though my lips tugged at the corners. “Anything else you need?”

He tilted his head, pausing just long enough for it to feel deliberate. “You gonna sit?”

I blinked. “Sit?”

“Place is empty. You look bored.” He motioned to the booth across from him. “Figured you could give me shit for a few more minutes.”

I hesitated. We weren’t supposed to sit with customers—not unless they were drunk or crying or both. But it was 1:30 a.m., and the only other table in the diner was too busy arguing over how toast should be buttered to notice anything. So I slid in across from him, arms folded, keeping the distance casual. He nodded like I’d done exactly what he wanted.

“You from here?” he asked, cutting into the sausage.

I shook my head. “Moved a couple years ago. Couldn’t afford the city anymore.”

“Same.”

“You just passing through?”

He looked up from his plate, meeting my eyes with that calm, unreadable expression again.

“Maybe. I don’t always plan shit out.”

I leaned back. “That supposed to sound sexy or mysterious?”

He grinned. “Did it work?”

I shrugged. “Kinda.”

We sat like that for a few beats—his fork scraping the plate, my eyes drifting to the tattoos curling over his forearms, the way his fingers looked wrapped around the handle of his coffee cup. He was the kind of guy I’d always told myself not to trust. The kind who didn’t talk too much. The kind who knew exactly how long to pause between words to make you lean in closer. But he hadn’t looked at his phone once. Hadn’t acted like he was bored or waiting for something better. He was here, right now, like this greasy, fluorescent-lit hole-in-the-wall diner was the most interesting place in the world.

Or maybe just I was.

“You always work this shift?” he asked, tone low and casual.

“Mostly.”

“Why?”

“Pays more. And I don’t like people.”

He smirked. “You like me, though.”

I scoffed. “I don’t even know you.”

“But you’re sitting here. Talking. Smirking.” His voice dropped slightly. “You don’t sit with just anyone.”

“I sit when I’m bored.”

“You’re not bored,” he said, his eyes holding mine. “You’re curious.”

The worst part? He wasn’t wrong. I hated how quickly he’d figured that out. How easily he could read between my sarcasm and the tired tilt of my mouth. Most people only saw the uniform and the attitude. But not him. Not Harry.

“You’re full of yourself,” I muttered, standing before he could see the warmth rising in my chest.

He looked up at me slowly, letting his eyes drift down just enough to make my skin prickle. Then he reached for his wallet and pulled out a few bills, tossing them on the table.

“You got anything else to clean up?” he asked, voice soft. “I don’t mind helping.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You want to help me clean?”

He smiled. “Not really. Just figured it might give you a reason to talk to me a little longer.”

I should’ve told him to go. That the shift was almost over and I didn’t need help from a charming stranger with too many tattoos and a voice that made me clench without warning.

Instead, I said, “Come on, then.” He followed me behind the counter. And just like that, the air changed.

The door swung shut behind him with a soft click as I led him behind the counter. Technically, customers weren’t allowed back here. But something about the way Harry moved—easy, quiet, hands in his pockets—made it feel like he belonged anyway. Like this wasn’t breaking a rule so much as rewriting it.

I grabbed a rag from the sink and tossed it toward him. “Here. You can start by wiping the bar down.”

He caught it one-handed, cocked his head. “Bossy.”

“I’m not your boss.”

He stepped closer. “Pity.”

I rolled my eyes and turned to the coffee machine. It didn’t need cleaning, but I pretended to tinker with it anyway—mostly so I didn’t have to look at him watching me. But he was there. I could feel it. The heat of his body, just a little too close behind me. The low sounds of him wiping the counter in slow, lazy circles. Like he was taking his time on purpose.

“You always this charming?” I asked, keeping my back to him.

“You always this guarded?” I froze for half a second, fingers stilling on the carafe. “Didn’t mean it like that,�� he added softly. “Just think it’s sexy, that’s all.”

I turned then. “My attitude?”

His eyes met mine. Steady. “Your fire.” God.

I hated how warm that made me feel. How the word fire in his mouth sounded like something private. Something earned.

“You don’t even know me,” I muttered, brushing past him toward the sink. Our shoulders touched—barely—but it was enough to spark something low in my stomach.

“I know enough,” he said.

“Like what?”

He leaned against the edge of the bar, arms folded, watching me without shame. “You’re tired but won’t admit it. Sarcastic to keep people at a distance, but your eyes soften when they’re kind to you. You wear black nail polish because it makes you feel in control, but you chip it off when you’re anxious.”

I looked down at my fingers, lips parting slightly.

“You’re a hurricane in a diner apron,” he added, voice dropping. “And I’d let you ruin me.” Fuck.

The rag in my hand dropped to the floor. I bent to pick it up—and when I stood, he was right there. Chest to chest.

No more teasing distance. No more safety net.

“Careful,” I said, but my voice wasn’t steady anymore.

“Why?” His voice was velvet. “You gonna bite?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I whispered.

He laughed under his breath—low and dangerous—and stepped even closer, crowding me against the counter. His hand brushed mine as he reached past me for the towel on the sink. The contact was small, but intentional. Like everything else he’d done.

“You gonna keep pretending this isn’t happening?” he asked, tilting his head, lips barely a few inches from mine.

I swallowed hard. “You’re the one pretending.”

“I’m not pretending anything, sweetheart.”

The pet name sent a jolt straight through me. I should’ve shoved him away. Should’ve walked out or told him this was a bad idea.

Instead, I leaned in just enough to whisper, “Then do something about it.”

His breath caught—and then he moved. One hand slid to my waist, gripping tight. The other came up to cup my jaw, his thumb tracing the corner of my mouth. His eyes flicked to my lips.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured. I didn’t. I couldn’t. So he kissed me. And it wasn’t gentle. It was filthy. Hungry. Like he’d been thinking about it since the second he walked in—and now he was starving.

His mouth slanted over mine, hot and demanding, tongue sweeping against mine like he was claiming me. His hand stayed at my waist, pulling me in so tight my back arched off the counter. I gasped, and he swallowed it—groaned into it—like he’d been waiting for that sound. When he finally pulled back, I was panting. Dazed.

He looked down at me, lips slick, eyes dark. “Still think I’m pretending?” I shook my head. He smiled. “Didn’t think so.”

The second his lips left mine, I reached for him—fisting my hands in the front of his shirt, dragging him right back. Harry groaned, deep in his throat, as he crashed his mouth onto mine again. This kiss was messier, rougher, and so much worse—because now I knew what he tasted like. And I wanted more. His hands slid under my uniform shirt, fingers spreading wide over the bare skin of my waist. He touched me like he already knew my body, like he had the right. And I let him. Welcomed it.

“Fuck, you’re warm,” he muttered against my neck, teeth grazing skin as he pressed open-mouthed kisses down my jaw. “Couldn’t stop thinking about this since I walked in.”

“You didn’t even know me,” I whispered, breath caught as he dragged his fingers higher, pushing my shirt up over my ribs.

“I knew enough.”

He gripped my hips suddenly, spun me around, and bent me slightly over the counter—my hands braced on the cold metal, his chest pressing into my back. I gasped, heat pulsing low in my belly.

“You good?” he asked, voice low, mouth by my ear.

I nodded, biting my lip. “Yeah.”

“Need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“I’m good,” I breathed. “I want it.”

“Good girl.” That fucking voice.

He yanked my leggings down, underwear dragged along with them, and the air hit my skin. My thighs pressed together on instinct, but he nudged them apart with his knee.

“Fuck,” he hissed behind me. “Look at you… soaking already.”

“Shut up,” I muttered.

He laughed—soft and filthy. “You don’t want me to shut up.”

One hand snaked between my legs, fingers sliding through my folds like he had all the time in the world. I gasped, hands flexing on the counter as he found my clit with maddening precision.

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” he murmured. “Thinking about me doing this to you. Touching you like this… making you fall apart on my fingers.”

I whimpered, hips pushing back into his hand. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please don’t stop.”

That earned me two fingers deep, fast and unforgiving. I choked on a moan as my body clenched around him, legs wobbling.

“Shit,” he muttered, still pumping. “So fucking tight.”

“Harry—”

He pulled his fingers out with a soft wet sound, spun me back around, and dropped to his knees like it was instinct. I barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on me—hot, wet, tongue dragging slow and deep through my folds. My head fell back with a sharp cry.

“Jesus—fuck—”

He licked like he was starving for it. Like every filthy, wet sound I made was his reward. He sucked my clit into his mouth, hummed low in his throat, and slid two fingers back inside me while keeping eye contact. I came so hard I nearly screamed. My knees buckled, but he caught me, pulled me into his lap as he stood. His cock pressed hard through his jeans, and I fumbled with the button, desperate to feel him—desperate for more.

“You sure?” he asked, fingers gripping my chin.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I need it.”

He growled, shoved his jeans down just enough to free himself, then lifted me by the hips and sat me on the counter. I wrapped my legs around his waist and gasped when the head of his cock slid through my folds.

“Condom—?” he asked, breath ragged.

I reached into the drawer beside me and pulled one out without thinking. His brows lifted.

“Goddamn. Always prepared?”

“You’re not the first guy who flirted behind this counter,” I smirked.

He tore it open and rolled it on fast, grabbing my hips again. “Bet I’m the first one to fuck you on it though.” And then he thrust in. We both gasped. “Fuck, Savannah,” he groaned, forehead dropping to mine. “You feel—fuck—you feel so fucking good.”

My nails clawed at his back as he started to move—slow, then fast, then filthy. His hips snapped against mine, the slap of skin loud in the kitchen. His hand tangled in my hair, the other squeezing my thigh.

“You gonna come for me again?” he panted. “Let me feel you clench around my cock?”

“Yes—Harry—yes, yes—”

“Say my name again.”

“Harry,” I cried out. “Don’t stop—please—don’t—” He didn’t. He fucked me through it—my orgasm crashing into me hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. And then he groaned, hips stuttering, eyes locked on mine.

“Gonna come,” he growled. “Fuck—Savannah—shit—”

He spilled into the condom with a low, breathless moan, rocking through it, buried deep inside me. His forehead stayed pressed to mine, our breaths mingling in the thick, charged silence. The air smelled like sweat, sex, and diner grease—should’ve been gross. But somehow, it felt perfect.

Harry was still inside me, his hands firm on my waist like he hadn’t decided whether to let go yet. I didn’t move either. My fingers stayed curled in the fabric of his shirt, clinging like I hadn’t just let a complete stranger fuck me senseless in my workplace kitchen. I felt wild. Spent. Alive. And just a little dazed.

He finally blinked, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. “You okay?”

I nodded, voice barely there. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” I whispered again. “Just… wow.”

A slow grin spread across his face, cocky but not in a shitty way. “Yeah. Wow.”

He kissed me then—softer this time. Slower. And somehow that kiss wrecked me even more than the others had. He pulled out gently, helped me down from the counter like I was breakable, and stripped off the condom before tossing it into the trash beneath the sink. Then he cleaned me up with a paper towel—silent, focused, gentle. Too gentle.

“You’re being nice,” I said, squinting at him.

He raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Feels suspicious.”

He smirked. “Maybe I’m just not a dick.”

I rolled my eyes and tugged my leggings back up. “That’s not what I meant.”

He stepped close again, crowding my space like he hadn’t just been inside me, like there wasn’t still a raw, buzzing tension curling between us.

“What’d you mean then?” he asked quietly.

I looked up at him—at the sharp lines of his jaw, the dark curl that had fallen over his brow, the softness still lingering in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Just… I didn’t expect you to be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Sweet.” That made him smile again—smaller this time. Realer.

“I’m not always,” he said. “But I like being that way with you.”

I didn’t have a response for that. Not one that made sense, anyway. He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, eyes on mine.

“So,” he said, tone lighter, “do you always keep condoms next to the forks, or was that a special surprise just for me?”

I groaned and shoved him playfully. “Don’t make me regret this.”

He caught my hand, pulled it to his lips, and kissed my knuckles. “Never.” God, he was dangerous.

I grabbed a clean rag and started wiping the counter like I hadn’t just come harder than I had in a year.

He watched me in silence for a moment, then said, “You working tomorrow night?”

I glanced at him. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Might stop by again.”

I tried not to smile. Failed. “You might get less than special treatment next time.”

“That a threat or a promise?”

“Depends on your tip.”

He stepped in close, just enough to make my heart stutter again. “I’ll tip you, sweetheart,” he murmured. “But I think we both know you already got the best part of me tonight.” Cocky bastard.

I shoved him again—harder this time—but he just laughed, turned around, and walked back out into the diner like he owned it. Before he reached the door, he looked back at me over his shoulder, eyes still sparkling, lips curved just right.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he said.

Then he was gone. And I was left breathless, aching, and already hoping his plate showed up on my counter tomorrow night.

*****

hope you liked this one guysss 💕

[rylem33]

Don't Say It

“It’s called The Word Game,” Lex announced, holding up a red Solo cup filled with folded cards and a roll of tape. “We each get a word taped to our backs. There’s only one rule: don’t say your word. You don’t know what yours is, but if you say it five times…” He let the suspense hang. “You lose.”

“What happens when you lose?” asked Ivy, raising an eyebrow.

Lex smirked. “You’ll see. Also? The game ends when someone hits five. One loser. Everyone else wins.”

Laughter rippled through the room. Drinks clinked. People leaned in a little closer.

As Mia carefully taped a card to Theo’s back, Fiona wandered behind Jess.  She reflexively wiped at her short, black bangs and peeked over her shoulder.

“‘Gazebo’?” she read, amused.

Then she caught Mia’s next: “‘Accordion.’”

And Theo’s: “‘Gargoyle.’”

She rolled her eyes. “These are so random. What even is this game—”

“Hold still,” Lex said, sliding behind her. 

She felt the slap of tape on her back. She didn’t see what was written, but everyone else did: IT.

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

“Mine’s gotta be something dumb like ‘scallop,’” Jess said, sipping her drink.

“I think mine’s something impossible,” Theo added.

Fiona, meanwhile, was chatting with Mia near the hallway. “Okay, so let me get this straight, we all just, like, talk normal? Until we accidentally say it?”

DING.

Her tank top pulled just a bit tighter across her chest. The mesh sleeves hugged her arms more snugly. Her gothy pixie cut suddenly looked… longer. Softer. Her bangs fluffed out ever so slightly. Her lips plumped a touch, her lashes fluttering with a bit more volume.

She blinked, touched her forehead.

“Huh. Weird… I feel kinda off.”

“Don’t say that again,” Mia warned softly, eyes darting to the card on Fiona’s back.

A breathy laugh escaped Fiona. She swayed slightly where she stood. Her hips had widened and her tank had climbed halfway up her stomach. Her hair now framed her jawline in choppy, tousled waves, brunette tones warming at the roots.

She spun in place, hands on her hips. “What did I say? You guys! What is it I’m not supposed to say?!”

DING.

“Okayy, that time I definitely felt something.”

Her shorts were visibly tighter now, clinging to a rounded, juicy ass that hadn’t been there ten minutes ago. Her black lipstick had faded into a glossy rose. Her pixie cut had become a voluminous bob, layers softening around her face. Her once-severe makeup looked fresher, flirtier.

“I think this game’s, like, broken or whatever,” she giggled, tugging playfully at her top.

Across the room, Riley leaned in to Theo.

“That’s two.”

“She has no idea,” Theo whispered.

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

In the kitchen, Fiona poured herself a drink with one hand, the other drifting absentmindedly between her thighs. Her top had morphed into a low-cut and white crop top. Her dark eyeliner was mostly gone, leaving behind smoky eyes and fluttering blonde lashes. Her nails were now almond-shaped and glossy. Her lips were full and slick with pink gloss.

She caught her reflection in the window and smiled. Then struck a pose.

“Okay, seriously though, what even is it that ends the game?”

DING.

She gasped softly, her back arching. Her breasts surged forward, visibly larger, and heavier.  Her body responded with a subtle, involuntary shudder of pleasure. Her hips flared again, her waist carved down tighter. Her hair lightened another few shades, the soft brown giving way to a full sun-kissed blonde.

Ivy, standing nearby, watched in awe as Fiona casually reached up under her shirt and adjusted her cleavage. Her hands lingered far longer than necessary. Then Fiona turned and strutted back into the living room, her legs long and tanned, her ass bouncing with every step. She dropped herself onto Riley’s lap without a word of warning.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she purred, gently grinding against him.

“N-Not at all,” Riley stammered.

That was three.

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

Fiona sat texting with one hand, the other lazily rubbing the inside of her thigh. She bit her lip at the sensations running through her body.

“So like,” she said to no one in particular, “when’s the game over? What happens when someone hits their limit? I hope it isn’t too bad.”

DING.

This time, her moan was loud, unmistakable. She pressed her legs together and gasped, as her body shuddered.

She turned to Ivy with a dazed, sultry look. “Is anyone else, like, super horny right now?”

Her tits were barely contained in her top. She slithered over to Noah and threw her legs across his lap. Giggling, her fingers played with the hem of her shirt.

“I think I want to fuck you.”

Noah froze as Fiona stood, taking his hand and tugging him to his feet.

“So like, are we done?” she asked, spinning slowly in place. “Cuz honestly, I really wanna fuck somebody. I’m, like, soooo horny and my body’s all tingly.”

She turned to Noah, lips parted, eyes wild. “You want it too, right?”

DING. DING. DING. DING. DING.

The final chimes rang out like a victory bell.

Everyone looked around, wondering what happened next.

A rush of warmth swept over Fiona. She shuddered and gasped, knees buckling slightly. Her shorts cinched up tighter one final time, practically vanishing beneath a gauzy cream-colored wrap. Her top shimmered into a white lace halter, pulling her massive tits together in a perfect, jaw-dropping V. Her hair fell around her shoulders in glamorous, golden curls. Her full sleeve of tattoos sparkled with fresh ink.

She tugged the straps down, letting her chest bounce free without a second thought.

“Oh. My. God,” she moaned. “Why didn’t anyone tell me how hot I was?”

“You lost,” Lex said, smiling as the app reset.

Fiona blinked, then giggled. “Did I?” she asked. She wrapped her body around Noah and gave him a deep kiss. Then she broke the kiss and fell into the nearest guy’s lap and started grinding against him with slow, teasing rolls of her hips. “Oopsie. Guess that means you all win, huh?”

“Okay,” she announced. “Like, who wants to fuck me first?”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | In Motion

Moving on is scary. Moving back won't bring you forwards. But moving with someone at your side can be exciting.

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Jungkook's ex wife, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of alcohol abuse, fluff, flirty Jungkook, fluff!!, MCs Ex, police, Jungkook being the victim of bullying (dw), fluff?, nsfw but it's very light (sorry)

Length: 6k words

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

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“Its funny how a woman can change a man.” Yoongi mentions, sitting at the big company dinner next to Jungkook, who's both visibly distracted and upset to be present, phone being checked every few minutes or so- and Yoongi knows who he might be texting with. “why didn’t you bring her along?” He wonders, while Jungkook sighs.  

“I’m actually not sure.” He admits. “I’ve been given a plus-one like always, and I planned on inviting her- but then I.. chickened out.” He shakes his head. “these events are boring as hell.” He says, eating his food with not much interest.  

“What is she doing at home instead?” Yoongi asks, setting his own cutlery aside as he’s finished his plate.  

“Cooking. She sent me a picture of some.. macaroni and cheese she made from scratch.” Jungkook smiles to himself as he thinks to the image you’ve sent him with multiple excited emojis to convey your happiness over it- having tried to wing it for the first time. “now she’s most likely watching her favorite show since it’s Tuesday.” He shrugs.  

“Wow.” Yoongi jokes. “That’s so much more exciting, damn.” He flatly tells his friend, who rolls his eyes. “Jungkook, have you actually asked her if she’d ever want to tag along?”  

“…Yes.. and she said she wouldn’t mind..” He admits shamefully so.  

“Then bring her next time. You act as if you and her are George and Maria over there. You’re not sixty for God’s sake, and she didn’t turn legal yesterday either.” Yoongi shakes his head with laughter, amused by his best friend. He’s noticed the change in him pretty much immediately after the younger guy had returned from his vacation and days taken off- looking almost ten years younger, happy and most of all carefree. There was no worry on his face, no thoughts wrinkling his brows, no annoyance and clear signs of boiling burnout left.  

“I.. want to ask her to move in with me.” Jungkook admits suddenly, staring at his food. “I know it’s a bit fast but.. I feel like this time, she really is the one for me.” He tells his friend, who shrugs.  

“Its your decision. I’m happy you found someone good.” He simply answers him, refusing to really help in that regard. Jungkook can make this decision all by himself, after all. 

And he should. 

Back at his place, where he puts the car keys on the kitchen counter before he unbuttons his shirt to get ready to shower, he takes a small look around. The cooking utensils he bought just for you are still here, and so is your favorite blanket. The pillows he got are littering the couch, and yet, only you are missing.  

You’re missing.  

Even though you’re technically not even meant to be here all the time yet.  

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Jungkook has become.. suspicious, to say the least.  

You’ve been together for a few months now after all, and ever single one of them, for the same week or so, you vanish out of sight. And he’s not stupid. 

He knows you don’t have an affair with someone else, or your work simply always calls you in during that time, because he knows you escape his sight even when you have days off. No, he knows exactly what it is, and he honestly doesn’t really know why you do it.  

Do you think it grosses him out? Or that he doesn’t know how to deal with it? Knowing you at this point, he might just be right.  

But he also can’t force you to come out and be with him during that time of the month if you don’t want to. You have to want this all by yourself, because otherwise, how can you both build a relationship that’s not the same as your past? He’s not that much better from your past boyfriend if he was to just overstep a boundary you clearly still have.  

Back at work in his private office, he contemplates on messaging you. That could help, right? He types out a simple message, letting you know that if it really is what he thinks happens every month, then you don’t have to be worried at all.

He doesn’t mind. At all.  

So he just texts you- tells you that if you ‘need anything at all’, he’d just bring it over and leave you be if that’s what you’re most comfortable with. However, instead of just texting back, you call him- making him wave towards his secretary in a manner that shows her he is for now unavailable unless urgent. “Well hello, darling.” He chuckles when he picks up the call, unaware that on the other end, his words still make you horribly shy.  

“Sorry for not.. Uhm.. You know, calling you or anything.” You say, but Jungkook doesn’t mind.  

“It’s no bother. We’re both still getting used to things, after all.” He reminds you. “Though I’d love some sign of life every now and then in the future. Just a quick ‘hey, I’m doing ok’ is really enough for me.” He offers.  

“Sorry. I’ll think about it from now on.” You say, though Jungkook is pleased to hear that you don’t just do it out of submission- but that it sounds a lot more like relief, almost. As if you’ve waited for him to say this. “But uhm.. What do you mean by, ‘if I need anything’?” You wonder.  

“I’m assuming you avoid me every month due to your period.” He says, and you just meekly answer with a sigh, and a ‘yeah’. “It’s no bother to me, really. It’s not gross or whatever you might think.” 

“I’m just.. Moody and stuff. I’m worried I might.. I don’t know, be mean to you on accident.” You warn him, and he just laughs it off.  

“I’m not that fragile, love.” He jokes. “And I doubt that you’ll end up calling me an asshole every second of the day if we spend time together.”  

“No, I’d never!” you defend yourself, making him chuckle. “I just get cranky, and I don’t know.. I might just get onto your nerves.” You warn him. 

“You could turn full on toddler on me, and I’d still take care of you.” He jokes. “I really don’t mind. How about we meet up later, and I’ll cook us something at your place? I have the weekend off, we could spend it together.” He offers, clicking a little through the rest of the E-Mails he has for today. “Or you could always.. Stay over at my place as well. You know I love it when you’re there with me.” He says. 

You really like his place. To the point, where you actually begin to miss being there, despite having loved your little apartment for so long until now. It’s odd how his house has become somewhat of a safe-space, even thinking about it makes you feel good. And hearing that he personally enjoys having you over as well offers you some sort of hope that maybe one day, he might even want you there permanently.  

What could living with him look like? 

How long until he gets annoyed with you? 

“I really like your home.” You confess quietly, and he waves off his secretary that’s about to knock- because he can feel he’s potentially at the very cusp of something. “Do you.. I mean..” You mumble, before you sigh. “Yeah sure, let’s uhm.. Spend the weekend together.” You tell him, and he realizes quickly that your tone is not very confident at all, despite the fact that you’re trying to make it seem like it is.  

“It could be your home too, you know?” 

He waits for you to answer, and he knows this needs some time to be thought through, but he truly believes that you’re the one for him. It doesn’t have to happen right away either- but he wants you to know that the option is there, if you’d like to take it someday.  

“I-“ you start, when he can hear your doorbell ring in the background. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” You tell him, leaving the phone for a little bit, silence the only thing that Jungkook gets to hear. Your phone probably cancels out whatever quiet noise might be there, so he’s unsure what’s going on, until you return to the phone again. “Can I call you back later?” You say after a moment, voice almost whispering.  

“What’s wrong?” He asks, immediately alarmed by your behavior. He presses for an answer by saying your name- but still, you don’t answer. Until you finally do.  

“He’s here.” You say, 

And Jungkook immediately grabs the keys to his car, rushing out as fast as he can.  

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Jungkook isn’t sure what he expected your ex to look like. But seeing him now, in front of your door as Jungkook walks closer, he feels his blood boil. 

The man is not quite as tall as he is just like you mentioned a few months back, but he’s clearly training for muscle. A very intimidating body, and the second the man turns towards him, he spots the things you’ve told him before as well. His facial features are a lot sharper than Jungkook’s, eyes dark as they muster him up and down, frown on his face. “What do you want?” He asks, voice deep, raspy. Most likely from smoking- cigarette smell still clinging to the man in front of him. 

“I’d like to visit my girlfriend, if you’d be so polite to make space for me to enter the door, please.” Jungkook speaks, tone held at a very specific tone as to not give away any emotions for his opponent to pick up on. 

“Oh, so she got a rich guy now.” Your ex says, leaning back, arms crossed- most likely to present his muscles, something that Jungkook thinks looks simply childish. “Tell her she owes me money. I need it asap, and she keeps avoiding me.” He explains, and Jungkook nods.  

“I’d love to tell her that.” He says. “But you’re still blocking the door.” he says, noticing both the very clear and sharp smell of alcohol, and the way he slightly sways a bit. 

It’s quiet for a good moment, both men staring each other down, before your ex moves to the side, though it’s clear that he doesn’t do it as to admit defeat. Jungkook takes the chance and knocks at your door now, prepared that your ex might try and slip inside the second you open it. “Hey- it’s me.” Jungkook tells you through the door, and at that, you open it just a little bit, like you’re trying to check if he’s actually there or not.  

Once you look at him, his entire face softens. 

You look like a panicked animal that just escaped a shot to the head, eyes wide, staring up at him. At the sight of Jungkook you instantly open the door wider to welcome him inside, and he himself is quick to shut the door right behind him, a hand having tried to keep it open last second. 

“I’m here now.” Jungkook reassures you while you cling to him, your ex having moved to knock and ring the doorbell constantly, angry about Jungkook’s antics. “Don’t worry. Let’s call someone to deal with him, and then we’ll go from there, alright?” He explains to you, as you detach yourself a bit, taking a few deep breaths at the instruction of Jungkook who’s still holding your arms as if to steady you. “Go sit down, I’ll make the call. Did he hurt you at all?” He worries, but you shake your head. 

“I didn’t let him in.” You answer quietly, and Jungkook nods. 

“Which is the best thing you could’ve done. Good job.” He praises, helping you sit down in your bedroom, as far away from the front door, which is still being tortured, as possible, before he walks back out into your kitchen, phone on his ear to call the police. 

It all happens a lot quicker than he would’ve thought- your ex having apparently had gone against some very important guidelines he’s been given after a more recent violent crime he’s committed. “You can file in for a restraining order.” The officer tells Jungkook who nods. “Judging by the fact that he’s known already, that might be for the best. Those people are too unhinged to really be trusted.” 

“Yeah, seeing him in person today has definitely made up my mind about some legal restrictions placed onto him.” Jungkook agrees. “Thank you for dealing with him so quickly.”  

“No problem. You two have a calm rest of your day.” The officer says, before they drive off, your ex in the back of the police car. 

The second he’s back in your home, having realized he actually knows the pin-code to your door, he carefully opens the bedroom door where you’re still hiding on your bed- and the second he nods, you get the message letting go of a deep breath, leaning against him the second he sits down on your bed. “The officer said we should probably file a restraining order towards him.” Jungkook tells you. “I think that’s a good idea as well. It would.. Definitely help me, knowing that he can’t get close to you.” 

“...wait- it’s Tuesday, you were at work-!” You suddenly say, realizing that he probably left work early just to be here now. “You can go back now, I swear I’m fine-” 

“The office won’t burn down just because I’m not there darling, relax.” He laughs, running a hand up and down your arm. “I’ve got the day off tomorrow anyways, and after that I’ll work from home for a while. So it’s not that bad, I promise.” He explains to you, who slowly nods. “And it was a family-emergency after all. They all surely understand that I suddenly ran off.” He jokes- 

Though you feel oddly emotional at the mention of that phrase. 

“Family emergency?” You ask quietly, and he nods, easily, as if it’s no big deal.  

“My girlfriend was in trouble. I’d count that as a family emergency.” He shrugs, and you look at your knees, unsure about what to think. “Which, by the way.. And you can totally say no, it would be completely fine-” He starts, before he continues his sentence once you look at him. “-but.. My parents might want to meet you.” He reveals, strangely... shy almost. 

“Might?” You wonder, and he nods, before sighing. 

“I might’ve let it slip that we’re.. Well, a couple.” He admits. “And I can’t help it, really.” 

“Can’t help what?” You wonder, making him play with the silver rings on his bottom lip. 

“I tend to.. Ramble on and on when it comes to you. So when they asked about you, I just.. I couldn’t help it. And now my family is very much curious to meet you.” He explains, and you smile to yourself. 

“Well.. I mean, I don’t mind?” You say. “What’s the worst that can happen, am I right?”  

“Oh god you don’t know my family.” He dramatizes playfully. “My mother can be a handful, and my brother will most likely just go on and on about some embarrassing stuff that happened when we were kids.” he groans, and you can’t help but grin. 

“Are you scared I might end up hearing something you’d otherwise keep from me?” You wonder, and he glares at you, before he suddenly smiles. “But really. I don’t mind meeting them, if you’re okay with that.” You say. 

And Jungkook can’t help but lean over at that to kiss your lips, realizing just how serious you’re both getting. 

“You’re the only one I’d ever want them to meet.” 

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Jungkook’s parents have never liked his ex wife. 

That’s information you’ve been told later that night before Jungkook had left to go home- and you’re unsure how to think about that. You feel like there’s now a standard you have to reach, and you’re not sure if you can. If you meet them, and it doesn’t work out, what will they think of you?

Your ex has never really let you meet his parents much- only fleetingly, when you met them by chance at the local grocery store or in similar situations. You know that Jungkook has a brother who’s been married for much longer than Jungkook has been- will he judge you for being so much younger than Jungkook himself? 

Will his parents think you’re not a good fit for him because you’re too young? Or do they know already? 

You’re currently washing dishes from the breakfast Jungkook and you had at his place today, when the doorbell rings. You’ve spent the night after admitting that you weren’t feeling good about sleeping at your own place after what happened, and he understood- happily telling you that you can always stay at his house for as long as you’d like. You wonder if he meant permanently.   

He’s been hinting at it for quite a bit now.  

A dog almost jumps up on you, another one following- two tiny whippets excitedly yapping at you, before a young man calls them towards him. Only now do you see three people entering the house through the front door- an older couple, and the young man who you assume owns the dogs, Jungkook standing on the sidelines, hiding his face in his hand.  

“Oh, you must be her!” The woman says, and you instantly know that she must be his mother. He inherited quite a bit of her facial features, though you can also see his father in him as well, the man a lot quieter than her, simply hanging up her coat before greeting his son properly. “Oh you do look young! But very pretty.” She tells you, before she tells you her name.  “When did you change the furniture? It looks so much brighter in here without that weird sofa in the living room.” His mother exclaims, as Jungkook enters the open kitchen.  

“I- mom, when I said you could visit I didn’t mean today.!” Jungkook almost whines, before he throws you an apologetic look. “And also, what are you even doing here?” He asks the young man who very clearly has to be his brother from visual appearance alone.  

“Hey, I gotta know who the pretty girl is who caught my baby brother’s attention!” He teases, smacking Jungkook’s back. “You’ve been going on and on about her, you can’t blame me for being curious.” He explains himself, before he reaches out to you. “Junghyun. Nice to meet you.” He greets you, before he boldly moves to take a look inside the fridge.  

It's odd how you just instantly know the dynamic of his family from this small interaction alone.

Jungkook quickly somehow gets his family to sit in the living room while telling them that he’ll make them something to drink, before he joins you in the kitchen again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know when J talked to them yesterday that they would show up literally 24 hours later-“ he apologizes, but you wave him off.  

“Its.. not that big of a deal. They seem nice- and it would’ve had to happen at some point, right?” You wonder, and he nods.  

“Still, it must be at least somewhat uncomfortable. I know I’d like to be prepared to meet your parents.” He sighs, moving to make some coffee for his parents after pecking your lips once.  

“…would you?” You ask, and he turns around after clicking the right buttons on the coffee machine in front of him. “meet my parents, I mean.” You ask, unsure.  

“I.. yeah?” He rubs the back of his neck a little. “I’m.. I mean, I don’t know if they’re even aware that you’re seeing someone-“ 

“They are.” You admit. “they.. I told my mom. After we.. after Christmas.” You explain, and he listens with interest, letting you go at your own pace however. “She’s.. they both know you’re older, and my dad is not very happy about that. But my mom seemed welcoming of the idea.” You tell him honestly, and he nods. “they’re scared too, you know? After all that happened.”  

Jungkook nods. “I completely understand. And even without that-“ he shrugs. “-I guess any parents would be suspicious of a relationship like ours.” Be admits and you nod as well, well aware that your parents might not be as easy going as his are. “but well make it work. Right?” be asks, and you know what he’s asking.  

Not if you’re gonna make it work- but if your parent’s possibly being against your relationship could be a deal breaker for you.  

“Yeah.” You say, because you’re not going to let this be taken away from you, by anyone. You’ve had a taste of what your life could be like if you were to just let it happen- and you don’t want to hide away and be trampled over anymore. You want him, you want this life and this future you might have together- no matter what.  

And Jungkook can’t help but walk closer to you, kissing your lips while he tenderly holds your cheeks.  

“Mom, Jungkook is making out with his girlfriend instead of making Coffee!” his brother yells, and Jungkook leans back at that, jaw clenched and tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek while he’s got his eyes closed, having to restrain himself you imagine. But you can’t help and giggle at the situation- visions of what those two brothers might’ve been like as children filling your mind, curiosity growing.

What was he like before Evelyn? Before he married? Before he met her? 

“get out!” Jungkook barks, taking a towel from the sink to hit his brother with it, the laughing older male running off back into the living room, where you follow- carefully carrying the two cups of coffee Jungkook had forgotten in his playful rage against his sibling. 

“Thank you.” His mother says, smiling warmly, while his father only nods, face however gentle, and friendly. You sit down after that, in the corner of the sofa, listening to the two brothers fighting in Jungkook’s office, before his father speaks up.  

“My son mentioned that you two have.. Quite the age gap between you.” He says, and you nod. “And that doesn’t bother you?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“It.. Did. In the beginning.” You admit, his father now visibly interested in your answer as he didn’t expect you to admit something like that so outright. “I was worried that he might.. Think of me as childish. Or that our ambitions might differ too much, since we’re both at different points in our lives.” You explain, his mother now listening in as well. “I mean.. Let's just take family-planning for example. He’s a lot closer to settling down than I am, technically.” You explain, and his mother nods. “But I realized that, if we talk about these issues, we can solve them together. Make compromises, so we can meet in the middle, so to speak.” 

“Has he spoken to you about his.. Past marriage?” His father asks, and you nod. 

“I’ve met his former wife a few times. And I’m.. Somewhat aware of the things that happened in the past- though I’m sure he didn’t tell me everything yet.” You say. “And I respect that. We’re still.. At the very beginning of our relationship after all.” You chuckle a little, nervously, but suddenly, his father smiles. 

“Stop interrogating my girlfriend just because I’m not here.” Jungkook interrupts the conversation, protectively sitting in between his father and you- though that wasn’t the smartest idea, since his father just quietly pats his back rather roughly, making Jungkook complain in embarrassment. “What the fuck dad?” He asks, but his father just laughs. 

“Stop hitting him darling, you’re gonna break his back!” His mother complains, and you can’t help but smile at the mention of that petname- making it clear where Jungkook got the habit from, since he calls you the same most of the time. It’s cute. 

You’re happy to see that he has such a nice family.  

“So, when are you gonna bring a kid into this world, huh?” His brother asks shamelessly, making Jungkook choke on his water. “Hey, come on. I’ve got the second one on the way, you can’t make me do all the work here!” He teases, making Jungkook turn towards you. 

“I’m so sorry- if you want them to leave, just tell me.” He says towards you, but much to his dismay, you shake your head. 

“I don’t mind them.” You say, and his brother grins, before he leans forwards towards you. 

“Did you know that Jungkook used to be scared of the microwave-” Jonghyun starts, and Jungkook throws his head back, groaning in agony.  

All while you can’t help but be happy that his family seems to like you. 

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Later on, once they all left again, he talks to you once more in the living room after the dishes had been washed, and you both had gotten ready to just laze around and go to bed later. “I’m really sorry they showed up unannounced. That was terrible of them-” He shakes his head still, holding you in his arms on the couch while a random TV series plays quietly in the background, commercial break ongoing. “-and I’m also sorry I left you alone with them. I hope they didn’t interrogate you too hard.” 

“It was fine.” You brush off, telling the truth. “We just.. Spoke about the age gap.” You explain, and Jungkook sighs. “And I told them that, you know, yes, it did bother me at first. And I know that it bothered you too.” You admit, making him stare blankly, listening to your words. “But that we.. Work together. If problems occur, we find compromises. Put equal effort into it so we meet in the middle, you know what I mean?” You say, and he nods. 

“Yeah, I see where you’re coming from. What did they answer to that?” He wonders, but you shrug. 

“He just asked if I knew Evelyn, and I said that yes, I’ve met her a few times.” You remember. “And that I know you probably didn’t yet tell me everything, but that it’s fine because neither have I. Since we’re still.. Pretty new.” You offer. “And then you came back, so we didn’t talk further.” 

“My brother can be so terrible, I swear.” He huffs. “Two years older and thinks he’s always got the upper hand in everything..” He mumbles. 

“Well, from what I’ve been told, he is a bit quicker with things than you.” You giggle. “Second marriage, second child-” 

“Second job after he kept slacking off at his first, second house because he got kicked out of the first, second dog because one wasn’t enough-” Jungkook goes on, and you can’t help but laugh out loud. “-Hey, stop laughing about that!” He complains, moving his hands to pinch your sides, only causing your laughter to intensify as you try and slip away from him. But you’re unsuccessful, rather ending up somewhat manhandled down into the couch, with him above you, your wrists pressed into the cushions below you. 

It doesn’t take long for him to lean in and kiss you, the knowledge of everything that happened today settling in. You’ve been so understanding about everything, calm and collected even though he knew that you must’ve been at least somewhat intimidated by the whole situation. You still handled it perfectly in his opinion, facing it all head on. 

He’s so in love with you.  

His kisses slow down after a moment or two- and you know why they do. He’s not really a fan of getting heated on the couch of all places, preferring the bedroom or maybe the shower- and sure, you have indeed gotten rather scandalous in other places of his house before, but if he can control himself, he does.  

Laying next to you, your head on his biceps, he just observes you for a moment before he speaks again.  

“Move in with me.” He says, and you’re caught by surprise at the sudden proposal. “I’ve got.. Enough space. A room you can have just for yourself if you ever want some time to yourself. I can continue renting out your old place too if you’d like.” He tells you, hand resting on your waist. “Just.. I’d like to have you close. Every day.” He says. “And night of course.” 

“I mean.. if you’re okay with that?” You say, unsure. “you don’t have to do it just because.. we’re a couple, you know? I can be.. a little chaotic, and loud, you might not-“ 

“I wouldn’t have proposed the idea if I didn’t want it, darling.” He chuckles, easing your mind quite a bit. “Think about it though, before you answer me now. I realize I might’ve come off a bit.. strong with how I phrased it.” He hums, slowly sitting up again with you next to him. “What I really want to say is.. If you wanted to move in with me, I’d welcome you with open arms so to say.” He offers, and you nod.  

“I’ll think about it.”  

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💜── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

“Hm?” You wonder still half asleep, Jungkook right behind you with his hands running over your skin, legs entangled and lips kissing the back of your neck.  

“You’ve been sleeping for ages.” He complains lightly, his own eyes barely open. “been waiting for you to wake up.”  

“..whats.. why?” You ask, moving a little to stretch your legs out.  

“hm, why..” he just repeats, hands traveling further and further until one of them finds its way beneath your light shirt you wear, bare chest warm beneath his palm. It’s clear to you now what exactly he’s been aiming for when waking you up- intentions obvious, especially with the way he presses himself into you from behind.  

You do have to admit, that it’s been a few days since the last time you two got together like this. With some stress at his work and your own life, you didn’t want to bother him too much- rather deciding to let him reach out on his own, so you know that he’s up for it.  

“You smell nice.” Jungkook comments, running his nose over the crook of your neck. “Is that the.. pink bottle you left here last time?” He asks a bit slurred, himself still somewhat asleep.  

“Hmhm.” You nod. “It’s.. yeah. I forgot it.” You explain, moving a bit to give him better access, and also to show that you’re okay with this. “it’s body lotion.”  

“smells better on you than it does on me.” He chuckles. 

“You used it?” You wonder, and he shrugs, before moving to position himself over you, reaching into his bedside table for a condom.  

“Hey you left it here!” He defends himself. “but it didn’t smell as nice on me.” He admits, shrugging before he moves to shed his cotton pajama pants- the shirt long gone, a habit of his during the night.  

“Well, now I’m here.” You say, and he nods, smiling.  

“You are.” He agrees, tapping your hips to make you lift them, his hands pulling down your underwear and sleep shorts off in one go. He gives the condom to you for now, before he lifts your legs over his shoulders, head lowering between your thighs to eat you out. He’s got a habit of holding eye contact with you during the act, and even now, he does so- soaking up every one of your reactions, eager to see you restless beneath his touch.  

This is the type of love he’d hoped for when he married. This is what he thought could grow from nothing.  

But he’s realizing now that that was a mistake- you can’t just hope for the best and then be disappointed when things don’t turn out the way you’d wanted them. There’s got to be effort put into it, and knowing that now makes him accept the fact that his ex wife isn’t the only reason his marriage failed. He himself also made mistakes, many of them- agreeing to going out with her when he didn’t love her being one of them.  

There’s no clear villain and no obvious victim in his story.  

Your skin is soft beneath his hands as he runs them up and down the sides of your legs- body squirming from his actions beneath them, as you experience things you haven’t before. You’ve never really had anyone ever pay so much attention to you in any way- be it sexually or just with the way that he calls daily to make sure he at least checks in with you whenever you’re apart. And thinking about it, there’s nothing speaking against living together- what's really the worst that could happen? 

You’ve been through the worst. You know that Jungkook would never be anything close to that. 

Your hand finds its way into his hair, unsure where else it’s supposed to go- and you’re faintly apologetic about the way you’re most likely tugging on it the second he pushes you over the edge- but he’s visibly uncaring of it, none of it bothering him it seems. He chuckles as he comes back up to you, wiping his face with his hand before he watches you open your eyes again to look at him. “You okay?” He chuckles, and you nod. 

“I want to move in with you.” You say, and he’s caught off guard, eyes wide for a second before he leans back a little to properly look at you.

“You sure?” He wonders, and you nod. 

“Hmhm.” You nod. “I.. Want to.” You tell him, and he smiles, clearly excited.  

“Okay.” He nods. “Okay! Yeah, we can.. Uhm, I mean, I’ve got the next week and a half set for home-office, so I can help you with the furniture?” He proposes, and you laugh, almost in relief, before he steals the still wrapped condom from your hand that's been holding it the entire time, face leaning down to kiss you.

"But first, let me love you some more."

[existential-crisis-of-the-mind]

The Bat catches a cold (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

Prompt: The Bat never falls sick, or so he thinks. (2k~ words)

Bruce Wayne does not fall sick. 

The man simply can’t afford to. He could not possibly disturb the precarious balance he’s achieved between his double life of running a Fortune 500 company by day and fighting criminal masterminds by night. 

So his recent sneezing fits must be a result of allergies, it’s pollen season after all. And those dull headaches he’s be experiencing the past couple of days? Probably just a lack of sleep,  the Riddler’s recent antics had resulted in some long and arduous nights. 

Today he woke up feeling kind of feverish, body aching all over. But he’s got to push through, there’s an important board meeting he can’t miss. Especially not over something as silly as a common cold.

“Alfred, did you put the kettle on for coffee?” Bruce’s horse voice calls out, as he all but staggers through the hallway on his way to the kitchen. A little caffeine and a painkiller should do the trick.

As he approaches the archway to the spacious open plan kitchen, he blinks away the final wisps of sleep encroaching his vision, only to notice that instead of his trusted butler Alfred its his partner puttering about.

“Alfred’s out on an errand, I’ve put the kettle on but it’s gonna be- Oh” 

You pause in your words as you look up from the counter, taking in the state of your husband.

Eyes rimmed red, hair scuffled and messy, a far cry from the smart slicked gelled back style you’re used to.

Also is he still in his pyjamas? It’s ten past nine, he’s should be in his starched white collar and dress pants by now. 

“Right. Could you make me a cup of coffee please? I’ve got to leave for the office in ten” he rasps before succumbing to a heavy cough. 

“Uh- I don’t think you should be going to work in your current state” you comment as you cross the counter to examine him better.

He shakes his head in hopes of ridding himself of the pounding headache. Bad idea. Now he feels like the room is swimming around him.

As he sniffles through his congested nose, you take in his slouched stance and tired profile. Yeah there’s no way he can go to work in this state.

As you place a hand on his forehead to check his temperature a soft gasp escapes you, he’s burning up. 

“Bruce you’re running a high fever, you need to rest” you chastise. Did he really think he could hobble into work in this state?

“I’m fine. Just a bit under the weather” he groans in protest, though his statement was severely undermined by him leaning against the kitchen archway for support. 

This was quiet typical of Bruce, he was stubborn as an Ox when it came to admitting he needed rest. You give him an unimpressed stare, you were not buying it.

“Really now? Is that why you’re slowly sliding down the archway? Because you’re the pinnacle of  good health?” 

That causes him to abruptly stand up, he sways in place for a moment, “I told you I’m fine it’s just a-“ 

And that’s all he can muster before he begins to fall forward, limbs seemingly in free fall. 

“Bruce!” you exclaim as you rush forward to steady him. But he’s much heavier with his limp muscles, so instead your valiant attempt ends up with the both of you slowly going down as a heap onto the hardwood floor.

But that’s still marginally better than him falling flat on his face so you’ll count it as a win. 

“Okay, time to get you back to bed. Can you stand up?” You pat his cheek as his head rests in your lap, hoping that will wake him up from his haze.

“No need for all that, I just need a moment to catch my breath- I’m fine” 

Though he voices his protest, his hand clumsily lands over your own, relishing the feeling of your cool palm against his hot face.

“Oh of course, you just need a minute to lie on the floor and then you’ll be able to crawl to work. Silly me for not realising” you remark dryly.

Bruce was usually a fan of your sarcasm, except when it was directed at him. He attempts to glare at you in response, but only manages to blink owlishly instead given his current state.

An exasperated sigh escapes you. You knew he was gonna be bull-headed about this, asking for help wasn’t exactly a part of Bruce’s lexicon. So it’s time for a bit of an ultimatum.

“Right so there are two ways we can go about this. Either you let me help you back to the bed where you will rest for the remainder of the day” you state, making sure you placed stern emphasis on the ‘rest’ part.

His face scrunches at the prospect, the concept of rest foreign and unappealing to him.

“Or if you won’t listen, I guess I won’t have much choice but to get Dick and Jason to carry you to bed” 

You had to bite back a laugh at the way his eyes balked at the prospect. He was not going to be humiliated like that. He can already envision Jason’s poorly concealed attempt at suppressing his laugher, and he just knew Dick was gonna bring this up at some inopportune moment at a future family dinner.

You can practically see the gears in his head turning, trying to work out another third option where he gets what he wants with his pride remaining intact. However, he doesn’t get very far in his dazed state.

So Bruce decides to go with the lesser of the two evils, one that would leave his ego less bruised.

“… I suppose you can help me to bed” He mumbles, causing you to laugh at his resigned tone. There we go.

“You know it’s not a crime to ask for help once in a while. You don’t have to bear all the burdens on your own” you reply as you help prop him up. 

Slinging his arm over your shoulder, you begin the trek back to the bedroom. He huffs, unable to meet your eyes.

“I don’t want to worry you” he admits quietly. 

He knows you worry enough already. He sees how your brows crease in concern when he comes home after patrol sporting a particularly nasty gash. He recalls the several times he caught you looking at him, quickly masking your anxious expression with a sweet smile. And on multiple occasions he’s found you dozed off on the couch well past midnight, in your attempt to stay up and wait for him until he returned from a mission.

It often causes a pit of guilt in his stomach that he finds it hard to push away. You already put up with so many eccentricities given his vigilante double life, that too all with a warm smile. He’d hate to add to your worries.

“Bruce” you tut, “You ought to know I want to help. You’re always juggling so many things all at once, it feels nice to help out once in a while. Besides, it’s not like I can help much with your nightly escapades” you say with a light laugh as you help him into bed.

But Bruce doesn’t miss the strain in your voice when you mentioned that last bit, you feel like you’re not doing enough, which is so far from the truth. Before he can address it you leave the room, stating you’d get him medicine and a cup of warm tea to help with the cold.

The next few hours seemingly pass in a blur, after his doze of medicine Bruce was out cold, the exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He wakes up in the late afternoon, the morning headache reduced to a dull pain at the back of his head, his voice feeling less hoarse than before. 

As he rubs his eyes to rid himself of the remnants of sleep, he notices you curled up on the sofa next to the bed, a book in your hand as you leaf through the pages.

“Morning sleepyhead” you tease as you notice him sitting up on the bed.

“How long was I out?” He asks, voice still gruff with sleep. 

“A couple of hours, feel any better?”

“Yeah… were you waiting up for me all this while?”

You give a light shrug, “It was gonna be a slow afternoon for me anyway, thought I might as well spend it keeping an eye on my patient for the day”

Bruce looks aways from your smile, feeling his cheeks flush. If you’d dare tease him about it he’d blame it on his cold no doubt.

There’s a beat of silence before he reaches over to grasp your hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze.

“You do help (Name), more than you know it. I look forward to coming home to you every night, I’m deeply appreciate of the peace you bring in my life” he remarks, referring to your last statement before he fell asleep.

Bruce wasn’t one for bold declarations nor was he a waxing romantic. However, that’s not to say he didn’t cherish you in his life. 

Despite all the time you’ve spent together, at times he’s still taken by surprise by your willingness to put up with the whirlwind of chaos that constitutes his life. You provide a sense of warmth and familiarity that he always believed would be out of reach for him. Something he couldn’t afford, given his commitment to his mission under the cowl. A tradeoff he’d have to simply learn to live with.

He pulls your hand closer and kisses your knuckles, unable to voice his jumbled thoughts but hoping to convey the sentiment nevertheless.

You smile at his gesture, as much as you wanted to coo at his gentle words and warm disposition (which was not that common a site), you knew he’d only flush bright red in embarrassment. You decided to save the teasing for another time.

“That’s kind of you to say. You know I’m here for you. We all are” you reassure, referring to the rest of rag tag bunch of a family. 

“Well, as much as I love the kids, I wouldn’t describe them as a source of peace, quite the contrary really” he winces as he recalls their latest antics.

A discombobulated performance featuring Tim’s latest handmade gadget malfunctioning and causing a small fire, Damian’s new dagger stunt breaking several pieces of expensive china, a manhunt for Dick’s dog’s who got lost in the Bat Cave and Jason’s attempted DIY hair dye gone wrong causing him to sulk in his room for several days. Alfred came to the rescue as per the usual, putting out both literal and metaphorical fires.

Of course you supported when you could. That is to say when you managed to stop laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of what you were witnessing.

You shake your head with a smile, before suggesting in a teasing tone “Maybe that’s just their way of showing love?”

He snorts at that, “Right by giving me new grey hairs”

He can’t help the bent smile forming on his face as you laugh at his quip. He still marvels at how easy it is between the two of you. How easy you make it for him to feel a sense of calm and security in your relationship. 

“What’ve you been reading there?” he asks, his chest warming at how your eyes light up, ands the excitement in your tone as you begin to describe the book to him.

Perhaps it’s not all that bad to need to lean on you once in a while.

Especially not if it means he get to make more precious memories with you.