#i still like to eat something that requires cooking

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° you already know babe

( michael kaiser x fem! reader )

✦ part 1 ✦ part 2

♡ a/n — many ppl asked for a part 2, so here it is.

♡ word count — 2.5k

♡ content — michael kaiser x fem! reader, MISCOMMUNICATION, pregnancy, fighting, cussing, lowkey don't know if that's everything

♡ synopsis — slammed doors. silence. and thick air, heavy with words unspoken. you and kaiser don't know how to talk and that may be your undoing.

── .✦ no ones ever had me, not like you

“I’m pregnant”

Kaiser stared at you like the words hadn’t just been spoken — like they had crashed into him. A thousand different things passed over his face in a span of seconds: confusion, disbelief, panic, and something far too close to anger.

“Michael?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t say anything.

He just stood there, slack-jawed, his hands slowly falling from the half-unzipped jacket hanging from his shoulders. His brows pulled together like he was trying to make sense of a language he didn’t speak.

“Say something,” you tried again, heart starting to pound for a very different reason now.

He let out a shaky breath. Then another. And when he finally opened his mouth, it wasn’t the response you expected.

“Say something?” he repeated, and his voice cracked under the weight of it. “I just got the best news of my fucking life and you—” He cut himself off, dragging a hand through his hair with a force that looked like it hurt.

“You do this.”

You blinked. Gaped. A shocked, disbelieving laugh clawed its way out of your throat.

“I do this? I—excuse me?” you snapped, the nerves and adrenaline snapping into white-hot disbelief. “I don’t know if you’ve been to a biology class recently, but I didn’t do this alone, Michael.”

He paced a step. Two. Then stopped again, shoulders stiff. “I know that,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know. But I just—God.”

“You just what?” you demanded, the initial fear now spiraling into hurt. “You don’t want it? Is that what you’re trying to say? Because there are better ways to say that than making me feel like I just dropped a bomb on your career.”

“That’s not—no, that’s not what I’m saying!” he snapped, the frustration spilling out fast. “It’s just—this was supposed to be good news! München is everything I’ve worked for, and you—you don’t even tell me you’re late, or that you were worried, or anything, and then I walk in and you just say it—”

“What the hell else was I supposed to do?” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t back down. “Sit you down on the couch with a bouquet of balloons and a cake that says ‘Congratulations, we’re terrified parents!’ I didn’t plan this, Michael! I found out two minutes ago!”

He went quiet again. Staring at the floor like it might give him the next line of dialogue. His jaw tightened.

“I need to take a walk,” he muttered.

“What?”

“I just—I need some air, alright? I need to think.”

“Michael—” You moved toward him instinctively, reaching out, but he pulled back, already grabbing his keys.

“I’ll be back later.”

The door slammed.

And just like that, he was gone.

The silence at dinner was brutal.

The clink of your fork on the plate. The slow drip of the faucet. The rustle of Kaiser shifting slightly in his seat across the table, like even he couldn’t sit still with how loud the air was between you.

You had cooked — more out of muscle memory than anything else. Pasta. Nothing fancy. Something you could stab at without thinking, something that didn’t require effort, because all your effort had gone into keeping yourself from crying again.

He’d come home without a word. No apology, no excuses. Just walked in, dropped his keys in the bowl, and headed to the bathroom. Then the bedroom. Then the table. A ghost in his own home.

You thought maybe he’d just eat. Maybe you’d eat. Maybe you’d get through it without—

“No birth control? Really?”

You froze.

Fork midair. Halfway to your mouth. It clattered back down onto the ceramic like punctuation.

It was the first thing he’d said to you since walking back in, and he said it without even looking up from his plate. But when he did — when his eyes finally met yours — they weren’t soft. They weren’t kind. They weren’t him.

“What did you just say to me?” Your voice was a whisper. But it was the kind that warned of the storm that followed.

Kaiser didn’t back down. “You knew we weren’t exactly being careful. You could’ve said something.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“Oh, I could’ve said something?” You stood so quickly your chair scraped violently against the floor. “No condom, jackass?”

He flinched, but it only made you angrier. You grabbed your plate and your cup and dumped them both in the sink with a loud crack of ceramic on metal.

“Don’t put this on me like I tricked you into something. Like I was secretly scheming to get knocked up while you were busy chasing your soccer fantasy.”

“That’s not what I’m saying—” he started.

“Oh really?” you cut in, spinning around to face him. “Because that’s exactly what it sounds like. You walked out earlier like I ruined your life. Now you’re sitting here asking if I was even on the pill, like I wanted this to happen without you.”

He stood now, too, pushing his chair back with a grunt. “I’m allowed to panic! This is a life-changing thing! I had dreams—”

“We had dreams!” you shouted, jabbing a finger toward the floor, like it grounded you. “An apartment. A future. You asked me to move in with you, Michael! You said we were building something together. Don’t act like I’m just some mistake who threw a wrench in your plans.”

“I just needed time to think!” he yelled, his voice suddenly cracking. “I didn’t ask for this!”

Neither of you spoke after that. The words lingered. Poisonous. Echoing in the space like a slap to the face.

You felt the air leave your lungs slowly, as if something heavy was sitting on your chest. Your heart pounded behind your ribs, and your fingers curled into fists at your sides.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall in front of him.

“You know what?” you said, voice eerily calm now. “You didn’t ask for this. Neither did I. But you did ask for me. And I’m standing right here, doing my best to hold us together while you decide if I’m a regret or not.”

Kaiser’s lips parted slightly. As if to speak. As if to apologize.

But nothing came out.

And you didn’t wait for it.

You turned away, stormed into the living room, and grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch with shaking hands.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” you said, throwing it down and fluffing one of the throw pillows like you had any control left at all. “Take the damn bed.”

The apartment was still. Too still. The kind of silence that felt like it had its own weight, pressing on your chest even as you slept.

You jolted awake around midnight, a dull ache in your back and an urgent pressure in your bladder making it impossible to stay on the couch. The throw blanket had twisted around your legs, and the cushion beneath you had long since flattened under the restless tossing you’d done for hours. You rubbed your face and dragged yourself toward the bathroom, groggy, your hand reaching for the door—

And then you screamed.

Not a full-blooded shriek, but a startled yelp as your heart leapt into your throat. Your hand flew to your chest on instinct.

“Jesus, Micha—!” you gasped, breath catching when your eyes landed on the shadow standing just inside the bathroom.

It was him.

Michael. Shirtless. Standing barefoot in just his athletic shorts, hair a mess, as if he hadn’t slept either.

“You can’t just stand in doorways like a damn ghost!” you hissed, pressing a palm flat to your sternum like you could force your heartbeat to slow. “Are you trying to kill me?”

He exhaled heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

His voice was low. Scratchy, like he hadn’t spoken in hours. Or like he’d been choking on the words all night.

You blinked at him, caught somewhere between annoyance, residual fear, and the lingering ache from earlier — the fight still raw behind your ribs. “Michael, I can’t—” you started, already shaking your head.

But he spoke over you, like he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“It’s just—” he inhaled sharply. “It’s my career.”

Your jaw clenched. You looked up at him, the faint light from the hallway behind you casting long shadows across his face. He looked tired. Not just the usual kind of tired from training or games, but bone-deep exhausted — like the weight of the future was pressing down on his spine.

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to school your expression.

“We can move,” he said, a little too quickly. “Together. Me, you, this baby—hell, I’ll fly us out tomorrow if that’s what you want. We’ll live off my money. I can make it work. I’ll—”

“God, you don’t get it, do you?”

You hadn’t meant to interrupt. Or maybe you had. But the words flew out like a dam had finally cracked.

He stopped. Brows knitting together, confused, mouth parted slightly like he hadn’t expected that response.

You stepped back from the doorway, your eyes burning. “Because obviously you’re the only one with goals and dreams. Obviously I don’t have anything to leave behind. Nothing to build, nothing to chase, right? All I want is you.” You laughed then — hollow and bitter. “That’s what you think of me?”

“That’s not—” he tried.

But you didn’t let him.

“You think I don’t feel torn?” you said, voice trembling. “You think I haven’t been lying awake every night wondering if I’m screwing everything up — for you, for me, for this baby that didn’t ask for any of this? You think I don’t want more?”

He said nothing, jaw locked tight.

“I had plans too, Michael,” you said. Softer now. Quieter. “Before you. And then you showed up in that stupid jersey, and that stupid smile, and I—”

Your voice cracked.

“I loved you,” you said. “I love you. But I’m so damn tired of being the one who has to be okay with everything.”

The silence that followed stretched too long.

He looked at you like he wanted to reach for you. Like he wanted to say something. But his hands stayed at his sides. His lips didn’t move.

And that was worse than anything else.

You swallowed hard and stepped back.

“Just…not tonight. Please,” you said, voice barely audible as you turned away.

You didn’t wait for a reply. Didn’t look back to see if he stayed there in the hallway or collapsed against the doorframe. You just walked back to the couch, wrapped the blanket tighter around your shoulders, and curled up with your back to the apartment, like that would keep any more of your heart from spilling out where he could step on it again.

The sun was setting over the Bastard München training grounds, casting gold and rose across the field in broad strokes, like the sky was painting a masterpiece just for them. The season had ended on a high — a league win, of course, with Kaiser’s name etched all over the stats and highlight reels. But none of that mattered right now.

What mattered was the tiny girl waddling across the pitch in a jersey two sizes too big for her, her little legs pumping as fast as they could go, her blonde pigtails bouncing with every determined step.

“Baby, don’t go too far!” you called with a laugh, shading your eyes as you watched her charge after a soccer ball like she was training for her own Blue Lock arc.

“She’s fine,” Kaiser said from where he stood beside you, hands on his hips, watching her with an expression you hadn’t seen often in the beginning — full, unfiltered warmth. “Look at her. Born striker.”

“She’s not even three.”

“And she already dribbles better than half my old teammates.”

You snorted, bumping your shoulder against his. “Stop that. She’s gonna grow up cocky.”

“She’s a Kaiser. It’s in the blood.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. The kind of smile that lived in your bones now. The kind that was easier than breathing.

Your daughter tripped a little over her own feet, then popped right back up — unbothered — as the oversized jersey with “KAISER” printed across the back nearly swallowed her whole. Someone had custom-made it for her after a match, and it had quickly become her favorite thing to wear. She’d cried when you tried to wash it once.

“She’s definitely yours,” you muttered, watching her stick her tongue out in pure concentration before giving the ball a good kick. It didn’t go far, but she looked so proud of herself that you clapped anyway.

“Hey,” Kaiser said suddenly, his voice dropping as he turned toward you. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh no,” you joked, but your heart already tugged when you saw the look in his eyes — soft and deep and steady, the way he always looked at you when no one else was around.

“I wanna marry you.”

Your mouth parted slightly, caught between a laugh and a gasp. “Michael—”

“No, I mean it,” he said, reaching out to brush your hair behind your ear like it was second nature. “I’ve meant it. For a long time. I just… I needed to get here first. Needed to feel like I was ready. And now…”

His gaze flicked back to the field, where your daughter was sitting in the grass, examining a dandelion like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.

“Now everything I care about is right here. You. Her. This life. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours. And I want to make it official.”

You were quiet for a long moment, trying to blink back the stinging in your eyes. “Are you proposing to me in joggers?”

Kaiser grinned. “Is that a yes or—?”

“Ask me again when you have a ring,” you teased, pulling him into a kiss before he could say anything else.

He kissed you like it was the easiest thing he’d ever done — hands on your hips, forehead pressed to yours when you pulled away. “You know you’re stuck with me, right?”

You looked past him to the field, where your daughter had just stood back up and was now waving at you both with her whole arm, like she couldn’t stand to be far from either of you for long.

“Good,” you whispered. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

Kaiser watched her for a beat, then nudged your side. “Wanna race her to the goal?”

“She’s a toddler.”

“Exactly. I can finally win.”

You laughed again, full and unfiltered, before you both took off — hand in hand at first — toward the little girl waiting for you in the golden light.

The three of you collapsed into the grass minutes later, tangled in limbs and laughter, the world small and perfect for just a while longer.

And as the sun dipped below the stands and the last streaks of pink vanished into blue, you knew this was your favorite ending of all.

Because it wasn’t really an ending.

Just the beginning of everything else.

may write a part 3 as like a little drabble but idk yet

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated

❀ tags: ❀ @irethepotato ❀ @kiyy0mei ❀ @x3nafix ❀ @sugacor3 ❀ @ohagiyoo ❀ @reigensuperstar ❀ @nevvynevnev ❀ join the taglist here !

tagging everyone who asked for a part 2 :) : @starsoverme , @anqelkoz , @renabeany1 , @s4turnx1

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[fandomloreblog]

🗡️ Vergil Headcanons Post-DMC5 🫐

These headcanons are mainly for my DMC6 fanstory, but yall are more than welcome to claim them for whatever your silly hearts desire (if anyone does fanfics PLEASE TAG ME I am starved for content)!!!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff and giggles here!

Stuck in hell for roughly 3-5 months with Dante, so lots of impromptu bro bonding and family therapy. Hears about what The Order did and what happened with Nero and develops Overprotective Dad Syndrome™️ once he returns (Nero doesn’t know how to feel about it).

Ends up growing stubble and keeps it. Originally because he didn’t exactly have a decent razor (The Yamato can only do so much) but eventually grew used to it. His actual hair he keeps a bit longer, but tidy still and almost always naturally pushed back. Usually it’s only down once he wakes up or is too tired to fix it.

Actually uses the Yamato to cut a lot of stuff (hair, fabric, non-messy food, etc), his main issue is Dante using it. Nero grabbed it once to test the durability of a new Devil Bringer, and when Vergil attempted to get it back, Nero made a “Or what? You’re gonna take my other arm?” Joke that had him somewhat frozen for a solid 5 minutes.

V’s tattoo’s also ended up resurfacing, which he kept as a sort of “memento” of them. They glow when he’s annoyed or enraged, or just close to entering his Devil Trigger (think of djheretostay’s Demon Hunter Outfit Mod for Vergil in terms of look!)

Tries dressing somewhat more “humanly” and not “I am a demon in disguise wearing a hell boar skin coat and dragon scale armor”. Again, Demon Hunter fit is his go-to, along with still somewhat formal outfits, but still human-made and relevant to the fashion era. (He is somewhat embarrassed by his DMC3 fit looking back on it).

Starts cooking for the entire DMC after he returned. He discovered Dante’s poor eating habits when stuck in Hell and basically had to force-feed him scavenged food he whipped up to make sure he stayed healthy and didn’t starve. When they did get back, he took it upon himself to make sure Dante, Nero, and anyone else who was there get some damn veggies into their system. It’s basically his love language.

He made a whole vegan/veggie pizza once, and Dante didn’t notice the difference. Nero had to jump between the two when Dante found out, and now Vergil is required to notify what’s in whatever he cooks.

Ends up becoming cooking partners with Kyrie somehow? Kyrie wants to get into Vergil (technically her father-in-law)’s good graces, while Vergil wants to figure out something healthy that Nero and Dante will eat.

Speaking of cooking, Vergil actually has a wide knowledge on hell-based cooking and gardening. Due to his decades of experience living there (both as Nelo Angelo and Vergil), he actually knows more about Hell’s fauna and flora than Earth’s. As a result, he’s basically the go-to knowledge guy when it comes to dealing with anything that is more complex than “charging in and slashing up the demons”.

Ends up having a somewhat secret garden somewhere in his apartment where he grows the few fruits and veggies from hell that everyone likes. It’s sort of an open secret, but they don’t pressure him over it just in case he stops or gets embarrassed about it.

GOD this man becomes such a book nerd. Not even just for poetry, in general. While poetry is his favorite, he is curious about other books/genres, so he has a whole collection (again) at his apartment. Nico gave him a demon-based smut book to see what he’d do/react to it, but then he didn’t do anything? And no no one has the balls to question if he actually read the damn thing or hasn’t yet.

Speaking of The Apartment™️- it’s a small condo in a somewhat decent spot in Red Grave City. he actually owned it waaaay before DMC5. He got using some “totally legit funds” during his wanderings as a place to store info/supplies in his search for power. Basically he owns it outright and doesn’t have to worry about taxes, and it’s better to not ask questions.

Doesn’t really have much in terms of furniture. He has a bed, a dresser/closet, a bookshelf, the hell garden, and a few boxes, and that’s basically it. Very minimalist, but only because he doesn’t really exactly know what he likes in terms of decor (yet). Take him into an IKEA, and he’ll be sat in front of 4 near-identical lamps for 2 hours wondering what he likes best.

Still struggling with actually verbalizing that he cares. Very much an “actions speak louder than words” person, so he’s constantly doing small things/actions (like cooking) to show that. He’s trying hard to be a better person, and just hopes that everyone see’s it.

They do, Nero’s just too prideful to admit it, and Vergil takes everything Dante says with a grain of salt.

VERY SAPPY!!! He’s down bad missing (insert y’all’s Lady-In-Red name)/Addie. Has one ring she gave him because he expressed a modicum of interest in it, and that’s his most cherished possession. NEVER takes it off.

Dante tried grabbing it once, and Vergil actually hissed at him out of pure defensiveness.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

as a southern european, the day you see me eat something like that as lunch, is the day you know you gotta pull the trigger because that thing that looks like me is no longer me

[anthromimicry]

oh, but imagining the potential for warmth and also perhaps some humor in the scenario that misao decides she wants to try to cook something for someone she loves while they're over is currently making my heart happy. like i'm not going to lie — misao has honestly not cooked a day in her life since she just simply never had the need to, being a jorōgumo and all, but she would want to at least try to show she cares for them by attempting to cook their favorite dish or something whenever they're over at her home. and this would still apply to her even if she ended up completely failing at it at first because one of misao's love languages is acts of service. thus, of course she would want to provide them with something as integral as food. but GAHHH, picturing it from misao's loved ones perspective is also equally as sweet to me, because them guiding her on what to do while reassuring her that it's okay? and them eventually just deciding to cook together because misao may or may not get overwhelmed by the fact that she has such little knowledge about what to do because she wants everything to be perfect is... idk. it can be either incredibly romantic, or make for a very wholesome platonic moment between her and another character, which i LOVE

[weaselle]

i had to make a solution for this for myself, mostly because of depression, but it makes a nice How To for folks who are low on spoons or could use some help in the kitchen.

Fortunately i was a professional cook for over a decade. UNfortunately the first post i made explaining it was suuuuper long. Let's see if i can do better

So you select any protein that you can cook in a frying pan -- chicken breasts, ground beef, pork chops, sausages, steak, chicken thighs, whatever. You also select one or two types of veggie (mushrooms or tubers also work, i just did this with potatoes and carrots for dinner tonight).

[i like cooking for vegetarians, but this is how i cook for myself when i'm low on spoons - perhaps i'll do another post for meatless meals]

You'll also need some kind of oil, and a sauce or two of your choice in a bottle. All cooking gear is a large frying pan with lid (i prefer non-stick) a spatula, a cutting board, and a knife.

You cut the veggies into bite size pieces, cut up enough for two meals. One kind of veggie is fine, or you can do mix two or three

Put frying pan on medium heat with a little oil. Tubers or mushrooms or go in the pan a few minutes before the protein. 2 portions of the protein goes in the pan, about 5 minutes with lid (don't worry you can still get a good sear on both sides)

Now flip your protein if it's flip-able and add normal veggies, put the lid back on another five-ish minutes.

Take your protein out and put it with one portion of the veggies in a microwave safe container. That's going to be your lunch tomorrow. Put the other portion of protein on a plate to rest (you have to let a cooked protein sit a couple minutes before you serve it or when you cut into it all the juices run out and it goes dry - the liquids thicken as it cools, preventing this drying out if you let it rest, the goal is to serve it very warm but not hot hot)

While it's resting, pour some sauce from your bottle in the pan with the rest of the veggies and turn up the heat. A single sauce/bottle is fine, i like to get fancy and mix a couple. Two examples of personal favorite mixes are 1: bbq sauce and a hot sauce like sriracha 2: roughly equal parts low sodium soy sauce and worcestershire (makes something similar to a teriyaki sauce) A swallow of wine is almost always a great option if you want to add that to your sauce too, just add it to the pan before the other sauces so the alcohol has time to burn off.

...

Here is the important bit. While your veggies are finishing, wash your cutting board and chef knife. Then when you dump your veggies and sauce over your protein on the plate, while it is still too hot to eat, you wash your frying pan and spatula before you eat. Now the only dishes you have left to do are your plate and fork. Maybe a steak knife.

...

The whole thing takes about 35 minutes even with washing the dishes, and that includes your lunch for the next day- just pour a different sauce on and stick it in the microwave for a couple minutes (or five minutes back in the frying pan) and you have a full healthy lunch with a different flavor

You can use this technique every single meal and it yields hundreds of combinations, from pork and potatoes bbq, to salmon and broccoli teriyaki, to chicken and zucchini in a soy glaze.

It will keep you down to less than an hour of kitchen time per day total for both lunch and dinner including all dish clean up, uses the least dishes, the least effort, requires the least technique, and is, depending on what you pick out, very affordable

here are a couple more examples from this month; i didn’t take pictures of the salmon i did recently, but you get the idea

it's not super fancy, but it is easy, affordable, quick, and any flavors you want. Hope this helps some folks

Happy Cooking!

[thebibliosphere]

My husband and I were discussing how the first felon is defending the FDA and how the quality control of our food is gonna basically disappear and I proceeded to have so much anxiety about it that I didn't sleep last night. How do we prepare for this? Is there a way to make food safe at home? How can we avoid getting poisoned from the grocery store? Sorry for bringing this anxiety to your inbox but I'm exhausted and scared and I'm hoping you've come up with food safety tips what with your general food complications.

I’m afraid I don’t have a solution for something of this scale and am just as equally terrified, but that said:

Check your local state regulations. Some states actually have strict testing that the FDA when it comes to certain things like milk. See if they are listing any recalls.

Stop eating things raw for the foreseeable future. Wash and cook everything thoroughly, even if the bag claims it’s pre-washed, wash it again. Cooking will also help eliminate any remaining pathogens. It means no more salads for a while but that’s okay.

For things like fruit, try to go with things that have an outer skin that can be taken off. If it requires you to cut into it with a knife, give the outer skin a scrub and rinse to reduce the chances of your knife being contaminated by anything like e-coli and then contaminating the insides by cutting it up.

For fruit that can’t be peeled, make sure to inspect and wash them thoroughly. If you are immunocompromised like me, consider cooking it down into a jam or pie filling to reduce further risk. Not as fun as eating it fresh for some people, but it’s a valid way of still getting the flavor and nutrients.

For things like milk, only drink pasteurized and ultra pasteurized. Try to get pasteurized eggs if you can too.

If you don’t have a meat thermometer, now is the time to get one. Make sore everything is cooked to its required internal temperature. For poultry, the recommended temperature is 165°F (74°C), while for beef and pork, the recommended temperature is 145°F (63°C) with a 3-minute rest time. Ground meats should be cooked to 160°F (71°C). Eggs should be cooked until the yolk is set. No more runny egg yolks for a bit until we get a competent source of information back about bird flu.

For things like flour, try to go for reputable brands that have their own independent testing facilities for things like gluten. They also usually test for other things and clean their facilities thoroughly. My go to is King Arthur atm.

Also, stop eating raw cookie dough if you’re not going to toast the flour in the oven first. That’s how a lot of people get sick, not necessarily from the raw egg, though stop eating raw egg right now if you do. Again, bird flu. [Addendum] I learned the flour trick in a job I used to work, but apparently, the pre-defunded FDA didn't think toasting the flour made it safe, so maybe just don't eat raw cookie dough. And I know someone's going to be a cunt in the notes like "I don't care I do what I want" good for you, hope saying that made you feel better.]

This is a dwindling possibility with the tariffs but try to buy food imported from other countries that still have food quality control. I get my masa harina from a small company that imports directly from Colombia. They can’t afford the gluten free label required to be classified as such in the USA, but considering Cheerios in the USA can afford to buy that label and the celiac foundation certification logo and still routinely sells contaminated produce due to not using gluten free oats and a mechanical sorting system that can’t be certified gluten free (1) (2) (3), I’m more inclined to go with other countries labeling right now.

With clean water under threat, use a filter for your drinking water. We currently use the ones by Life Straw. They don’t fit into your faucet but the LS filters are better than most of the ones that can be attached that way and the housing of the jugs and countertop filters are easy to clean. Make sure you do so once a week and change the filters as directed.

Most of this is just basic food hygiene stuff combined with what it’s like to be immunocompromised, but it’s always worth repeating in case someone didn’t know, but especially worth repeating right now with all our rules and regulating bodies going out the window 😞

[atereaste]

Sevika as a housewife

CW: Smut

AN: do you know how hard it is thinking of headcannons for this woman? I tried my ABSOLUTE hardest to make it as cannon to her character as possible and I made sure to make it lengthy as possible. Also this was based off this one fanart I found on here that I sadly can’t find.

She’s usually up at 6AM. Not because she wants to but because that is when Anaya wakes. No alarm needed. She’s already halfway out of bed before the fussing starts.

Makes real breakfast like eggs, toast, potatoes, and a ridiculous amount of bacon. Claims it’s “for the baby,” but we all know who eats six strips before you even get up.

Has your coffee ready like clockwork. Never smiles when she gives it to you. Just grunts, “Mornin’. Go kick ass.”

She's not the apron-wearing, Pinterest mom type. She Never wears the classic housewife look. It’s all muscle tanks, joggers, band tees, and sometimes that old leather jacket she refuses to throw out. Cigarette behind the ear, not lit (she tries to quit for her daughter, but old habits never die).

Has her hair tied back, scars on display, robotic arm gleaming under the kitchen lights.

She doesn’t call herself a “housewife” but acts like one every day. If someone else calls her that, like a friend or a family member She grunts, lights a cigarette, and mutters, “Yeah. So?”

She acts like she’s annoyed when you tease her about being a housewife, but she secretly loves it.

Sevika never saw herself settling down, but once she did, it hit her like a punch to the chest, this quiet, domestic life? She’d kill to protect it.

Handles all the heavy lifting around the house literally and emotionally. Leaky roof? She’s on it. Baby teething and screaming all night? She’s the one pacing the hallway with her tucked to her chest, whispering calm nonsense. but she still makes your coffee just the way you like it every morning.

Keeps the house spotless but not fussy. Everything is practical, efficient, and deeply hers. You tried to buy decorative pillows once she threw them like a discus into the hallway.

Baby-proofed the entire house herself. Installed corner guards, outlet covers, and baby gates that require two hands and a prayer to open.

Her name is Anaya, a soft name that Sevika picked out, surprising you both. (You can change it if you want)

Anaya got your eyes and Sevika’s scowl. Chubby cheeks, big curious eyes, always grabbing her mama’s metal fingers.

Her daughter is the only creature on the planet who makes Sevika melt. Big, soft cheeks, giggly snorts, and chubby hands reaching for her scarred face? Yeah. She’s a goner.

Sevika is not soft by nature, but you and the baby bring out a version of her that’s damn near unrecognizable to anyone who knew her back in Zaun. She's a "tough on the outside, but a absolute marshmallow for her girls" kind of wife.

I hope this is a safe space but Sevika 100% listens to jazz like deep, brooding stuff. She prefers instrumental tracks, trumpet, sax, stand-up bass. Miles Davis, Charles Mingus, John Coltrane, Chet Baker when she’s feeling tender.

Late at night, she plays old vinyl on a secondhand turntable she restored herself. The low hiss of the record starting is practically sacred.

She doesn’t explain her choices, but you’ve caught her pausing at certain solos like they say something she doesn’t know how to put into words.

It’s always on low volume in the background while she cooks or tidies the house.

Anaya’s lullaby is jazz. Sevika rocks her while humming along, sometimes adding her own quiet rhythm with her metal fingertips on the baby’s back.

In the early mornings, you’ll find her at the kitchen table with coffee, newspaper, and a Coltrane record playing gently. Hair still messy from sleep, house quiet except for saxophone and birdsong.

She has a hidden stash of photos of the baby on her communicator like hundreds. Pretends she doesn’t take them. You know better.

Wears a necklace you gave her with the baby’s initials on it under her shirt. Only touches it when she’s stressed or tired.

She slow dances with you in the kitchen while dinner simmers. No words, just the rise and fall of horns, her hands on your hips, chin resting on your shoulder.

If you’ve had a rough day, she’ll put on Ella Fitzgerald or Billie Holiday, pull you into her lap, and let the music speak for her.

Once, you walked in and found her in the nursery rocking Anaya to “Naima” eyes closed, swaying in rhythm, completely at peace.

Surprisingly good at cooking. She doesn’t do fancy, but her food hits like, home. Lots of stews, grilled meats, and roasted vegetables. She seasons like a pro and uses that cybernetic arm to mash plantains like a boss

Savory over sweet. Her palate leans toward rich, bold flavors spices, sears, and anything cooked low and slow.

Heavy-handed. No measuring cups. It’s all instinct. She cooks with the confidence of a woman who knows she’s feeding people she loves.

“Trust me. If I’ve made it more than twice, it won’t kill you.”

Anaya strapped to her chest in a carrier while she stirs a pot.

She doesn’t always say she loves you. But she seasons your rice exactly how you like it. She cooks with one arm so she can hold the baby with the other. She leaves leftovers in the fridge labeled with your name.

Does all the errands while wearing the baby strapped to her chest like a living shield.

The grocery store staff are terrified of her. No one questions the tattooed woman grabbing eight jars of applesauce and staring down anyone who lingers too long in her aisle.

If anyone tries to say anything about her being a housewife, she dares them to say it again. Proud protector of her home, her woman, and her daughter.

NSFW

Sevika’s housewife vibe completely flips in the bedroom. All that restrained energy, all those controlled gestures unleashed.

She’s slow, intense, and hyper-focused. She watches your reactions like a hawk, cataloguing what breaks you.

Very much a giver. Obsessive about your pleasure. She doesn’t finish unless you do first , sometimes more than once.

Kitchen sex happened once after you teased her while she was cooking she bent you over the kitchen island with one hand still holding a spoon.

She didn’t even take her apron off. Just dragged your panties down, muttered “Should’ve behaved,” and wrecked you until your legs gave out. Afterwards, feeds you bites of whatever she was making, while you sit on the counter in just a shirt and nothing else.

She adores your body after having Anaya. Scar, stretch marks, softness she’s obsessed. She kisses your stomach like it’s holy ground. “You made her in here,” she murmurs against you Sevika’s housewife vibe completely flips in the bedroom. All that restrained energy, all those controlled gestures unleashed.

Some nights she gets overwhelmed by it goes down on you like it’s worship, mumbling thank yous between your thighs.

She doesn't need formal dom/sub labels, but there's power in how she touches you. In how you let her.

Sometimes she calls herself “Daddy” in a low growl especially when she’s fucking you from behind with your legs shaking and her hand around your throat.

But more often, she calls you “mama.” In reverence. In filth. Whispered against your skin as she takes you apart: “Let me make mama feel good. Let me take care of you.”

Quickies while Anaya naps. Always risky. Always worth it.

The dryer buzzer goes off? She ignores it. You’re already bent over the washing machine, her hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

When you come out flushed and trembling, Sevika smirks and goes, “Laundry’s done, babe.”

You say one thing about being tired or tense and she’s immediately kissing your neck, dragging you to bed, muttering “Let me help you unwind.”

That always leads to you face-down in pillows, ass up, her mouth on you like she’s starving, refusing to stop until your legs are shaking.

She loves holding you by the throat not rough, but firm. Controlling.

She’ll squeeze just enough to make you whimper, then lean down and whisper, “That’s my girl. So fucking good for me.” You melt. Every time.

Her other hand always finds your clit when she does it. She knows exactly what you need and exactly how slowly to give it to you.

Sevika lives to use the strap on you. She takes her time choosing it, watching you undress, making you ask for it. She prefers when you’re tied down for it spread open, blindfolded, dripping for her.

When she slides in, she mutters, “Miss this, didn’t you?” and absolutely rails you through the mattress until you’re begging her to stop and she’s smirking like the devil.

She always says “We’ll be quiet.” You never are. Baby monitor’s on. House is still. She promises to go slow, gentle, quiet. Five minutes later, you’re sobbing into the sheets while she pounds into you, teeth in your shoulder, sweat dripping down her neck.

“Told you we couldn’t be quiet,” she teases afterward, licking her fingers clean.

You’ve never experienced focus like Sevika’s mouth between your legs. She doesn’t just eat you out she commits.

Buries her face, groans into you, holds you down when you try to run.

You’ll come once and she’ll keep going. Twice? She’s just warming up. She gets off on how wrecked you get under her tongue.

She jerks off to the memory of it later. Usually in the shower. Often thinking about the exact sound you made the third time you broke.

Sevika loves fucking you in front of the mirror. It's not just visual it's about power. She wants you to watch yourself fall apart for her.

She stands behind you, hand around your throat or arm across your waist, whispering filth in your ear:

“Look at that face. You see how pretty you are when you beg?”

She makes you keep eye contact with your reflection. Every orgasm, every whimper—“Eyes up. Be a good girl.”

Sometimes she fingers you from behind while you sit in front of the vanity post-bath. Just a towel, her mouth on your neck, and your reflection wet and wrecked.

Sevika gets off on almost getting caught. Like when Anaya napping, and she bends you over the kitchen table with the baby monitor in full view.

“Keep your voice down,” she warns right before she slaps your ass and shoves two fingers in.

She loves fucking you in places you shouldn’t be: laundry room, balcony, the hallway, even the nursery rocker (when she’s feeling especially risky).

One time, she forgot the curtains were open. Now the neighbors won’t look you in the eye and Sevika? She smirks every time.

You already have Anaya but Sevika still talks about putting another baby in you like it’s her life’s mission.

She’ll say it in your ear while she’s fucking you, voice low and wrecked:

“Gonna fill you up again. Look so fuckin’ pretty knocked up.”

Even when she’s not using her strap, she fingers you through an orgasm while kissing your stomach, murmuring,

“Wanna see you round with my kid again. You’d carry it so well.”

The idea isn’t just sex it’s ownership, devotion, obsession. She wants every inch of you marked by her.

Early morning. Anaya’s still asleep. Sunlight through the curtains. You’re in her old t-shirt and nothing else. Sevika wakes up hard, sees the little wet patch on your shirt, and groans,

“Still leakin’ for me, mama?”

She wraps an arm around you, pulls your tit into her mouth, and suckles while fingering you slowly from behind.

You’re half-asleep and already moaning, legs trembling as she rubs slow circles over your clit and murmurs, “You’re so soft like this. So mine.”

She makes you come twice before breakfast. Her face never leaves your chest.

I’m gonna make a part two of this but of just basic Sevika headcannons cause I have so many written just let me know if you wanna be tagged in that Ⓒ atereaste

[ofstarsandvibranium]

I Spy With My Little Eye

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x F!Reader

Summary: Joaquin got you a little present for when he's away on missions for a longer time.

A/N: This is based off a tiktok I saw about a husband bothering his wife with the Ebo Bot while he's deployed

"...Joaquin, what is this exactly?" you look at the device inside the box.

Your boyfriend looks at you excitedly, "It's a little robot that I can use to communicate with you while I'm away on missions."

You pull it out along with instructions, "Honey, this is sweet and all, but our phones work just fine."

"But our phones don't roll around looking all cute like!" You watch as he downloads the required app and sets up the bot. Soon enough, the round, white and black bot is rolling around your living room floor. Joaquin controls it from his phone.

"See!" He then taps his phone again, "And I can talk to you through it like this!"

Honestly, you still didn't see the purpose of the bot, but it made Joaquin happy and it provides another form of communication with him while he's away.

"It does look pretty cute," you say, giving him a soft smile, which makes his own smile grow wider.

__________________

You're in the kitchen cooking dinner for yourself when you hear the rolling of wheels, "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

You chuckle and look down at your feet. The ebo bot is angled up at you as your boyfriend speaks through it, "Making soup?" Joaquin asks as he notes the pot in front of you.

"Close. I'm cooking stew."

"All of that for you?"

You roll your eyes, "No. I'll eat what I can and then I'll freeze the rest to eat for another time. Or if you want to eat it when you come back, all you have to do is heat it back up."

"Oooohh smart."

"Everything going okay?" you ask as you go back to cooking.

"Yup. Probably will be back in a day or two....can you pick me up and put me on the counter?"

You snort, "Really? Why?"

"So I can get a better look at your beautiful face, obviously." You hear the grin in his voice.

You roll your eyes again but you oblige. For the past few missions, Joaquin has used the ebo bot to talk to you, mess around, and be a little nuisance. You could tell he was enjoying it way too much.

"I hope Sam never gives you your own Red Wing. I can't imagine the nonsense you'd pull with something more advance," you smirk at the bot that rolls around the counter beside you.

"I've already asked and he refuses to give me one."

You laugh, "As he should! You're a menace with this little thing," you gesture to the bot with the wooden spoon in your hand.

"I'm just making sure you're not lonely when I'm away!"

"Baby, I love you, but we both know you're the clingier one between us."

You laugh as the bot turns around and rolls towards a corner, appearing as if Joaquin is pouting.

"Take it back."

"No, because it's true! And I didn't say it was a bad thing, Joaco!"

"No, no, no. It's fine. Screw me for being super duper in love with my beautiful and amazing girlfriend." he proceeds to roll towards the edge of the counter and you stop him.

"You're so dramatic," you say with a smirk as you pick up the bot and raise it to eye level.

"But you love me."

"Yes, I do. Very much," you kiss the bot and set it back on the counter, "Were you going to watch me eat dinner?"

"Nah. I'll let you go. I need to work on reports or Sam will get on me again."

You snicker, "Alright," you set the bot onto the floor, "Love you. Bye!"

"Love you! Byyyyyeeeeee!" he elongates the word as rolls all the way back to the dock, causing you to laugh to yourself.

[spaghettiposts]

5 times you slept in places you shouldn’t have + the 1 time Wanda dragged you with her

Wanda Maximoff x Spider!reader

Summary: You’ve always had trouble sleeping, and Wanda’s always been there to see it.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, poor readers not doing so well in the sleep department.

Word count: 10.7k (I am so sorry)

A/n: I’ve always wanted to try this troupe I’m very excited with how this turned out. Took me literal months (started in march) anyways!! Reblogs or no more Wanda 🫵 /j happy reading!!

The couch

Sleeping had never been your thing, but you could sleep through it all when it was. You were never a heavy sleeper, in fact, a light sleeper. Just the slightest of noises were enough to have your body ringing and if you refused to comply your very friendly spider-sense would have no problem in senselessly jolting you awake till you’d arrive half stumbling into a nearby crime scene.

Your spider senses only worsened to the point where sleeping was becoming harder to do and at some point you stopped trying altogether. Night after night you’d stare aimlessly at the ceiling above you, just, waiting for the prickling sensation to eat at your flesh until you couldn’t handle the needles seeping through your skin. The lack of sleep and the cruel anticipation were eating at you, and you were starting to grow desperate.

Over dinner you complained about it to Steve one Friday night when all the Avengers took time off for some one-on-one time (despite not being an official member you graciously accepted the invitation), he noticed your sluggish behavior and recommended you avoid living near the danger until you could learn to control your powers better. His reasoning being; “If you’re not near a crime scene, your senses won’t have anything to wake you for, that way you’ll receive the proper rest you require”.

The strangest part out of all of it was; his advice worked. At the compound, you slept like a baby, in your apartment in New York? Not so much. You were very appreciative of the man, and he was even kind enough to offer you a room which you accepted immediately. 

One person who had been initially excited about your move-in was Wanda. You were lucky enough to consider Wanda one of your closest friends aside from Peter. She was absolutely brilliant and you both got along well. Similar to an unfinished puzzle piece she was the last puzzle you didn’t even know you were missing. She needed company, and you were glad to provide it. 

You didn’t visit often, but with this newfound arrangement, you would be. Wanda didn’t know if the idea of spending more time with you or potentially sleeping one room away from you excited her more. Either way, the thought of you being a door down had her cheeks flushing and Natasha’s lips curling into a knowing smirk.

So yes, Wanda was excited about your temporary stay. 

That was until she realized how annoying of a sleeper you could be. No, you didn’t snore, nor drool in your sleep. 

Your problem wasn’t any of those. And honestly, Wanda wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for a late-night last-minute grocery run. Earlier that morning she had promised the team she’d cook her famous paprikash for tomorrow and had miscalculated exactly how many ingredients were in stock. 

As Wanda stepped out of the elevator, she shifted her weight to better handle the bags, struggling only slightly before releasing them onto the counter with a sigh of relief. With a flick of her wrist, the lights turned on, and to her surprise; you were there too. Not in the kitchen but sprawled out on the couch where soft snores were leaving your lips. 

‘Huh’

Wanda bit the inside of her cheek, chuckling to herself. You looked like a starfish and your attire was… well, certainly something. You were completely knocked out beneath your Spider-Man suit and–– were those sweatpants? She guessed you must have been swinging through the city on patrol again. As for how sweatpants ended up on you, a mystery. 

You still had your mask on, and before Wanda could give it much thought she was already walking in your direction, step by step, until she was kneeling beside the couch. Carefully, her fingers reached out, slowly lifting the edges of your mask. Just as she was about to peel it out, you stirred beneath her touch, causing her to still.

“Wanda?” You whispered hoarsely, elbows lifting to get a better look at your surroundings but Wanda was quick to push you back down.

“Relax, you fell asleep in your suit again.” Wanda shushed you, and you hummed, not really fighting it, settling back into the couch to give her more control. She gently pried off the rest of the mask before placing it on the coffee table. 

Leaning down she ran her hand towards your hair, pushing away strands from your eye and you grumbled sleepily. 

The witch chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before straightening herself up again. “There, you can sleep now.” 

“You’re the best.” You mumbled as she walked away, taking a deep breath, and burying your face back into the cushions. 

From the kitchen Wanda smiled fondly, a blush tinting her cheeks as she unpacked the groceries; moving quietly to not wake you. You’re all she thinks about as she organizes things, glancing in your direction every so often. 

And you find yourself doing the same, seeing her in your dreams, and sleeping with an even bigger smile than before. 

—

2. Tony’s desk 

The compound is surprisingly quiet the next day, considering Tony was paying a visit Wanda would’ve assumed exactly the opposite in his company. But there were no out-of-the-ordinary noises, just the occasional banging of his hammer and welding machine. 

Overall it was pretty peaceful and the weather was just beautiful, a perfect blend of sunny but not insufferably so, a sight that would go well with some lunch. Naturally, you’re the first person that comes to mind that Wanda thinks to ask. 

Yet, a problem arises when Wanda can’t seem to find you anywhere. You’re not in your usual spots, including the bean bag chair in the movie room, or the outside bench next to the pond. 

Noticing Wanda’s dejected demeanor, Natasha has enough of it after all the aimless pacing. The assassin suggests that you might be downstairs in Tony’s lab, and Wanda’s eyes light up the next second. A brilliant suggestion indeed, after all, he was your mentor. 

Unsurprisingly, Wanda finds you exactly where Nat said you’d be. Hunched over, asleep on one of Tony’s desks, snoring ever so softly. Next to you were your web shooters—or pieces of them. 

The sight would’ve normally made Wanda smile if it weren’t for your uncomfortable position. Any more time spent like that and you’d surely be retired before 40 with chronic back pain. Previously, you had told Wanda not to worry about it, mumbling on about how you spiders could sleep anywhere.

Wanda didn’t believe it for one second, knowing you immediately had to pop a few pills to relieve the pain in your spine. As much as you were a superhero, you weren’t immortal, humanity never left you—something Wanda had to remind you of whenever you pushed yourself to a certain extent. 

Feeling a weird sense of déjà vu, Wanda removed the gears from underneath your arms, carefully placing them aside, mindful not to ruin the process you had sorted out. 

Placing the items aside, you sigh on the table, stirring softly, but you remain blissfully unaware. A gentle smile curls on Wanda’s lips as she watches you, her soft palm coming to stroke your back. 

That was enough to jolt you awake, snapping up with wide eyes, and grabbing the nearest screwdriver to threaten whoever was there. Your posture was contrary to intimidating, and Wanda couldn’t help but laugh, lifting her hands in mock surrender. 

“Please have mercy.” She teased with a playful grin, using her finger to push back the ‘weapon’. 

You blinked confusingly, glancing down at the item in your hand before chuckling. “Consider yourself lucky it wasn’t Thor’s hammer I picked up.” You quipped, placing the tool down and stretching your arms above your head. 

And Wanda sighed, watching you struggle to get that knot out. Standing up from her chair she came to your aid, massaging at your shoulders and back. You sighed in relief, leaning back into her touch as she worked her magic.

She really did have magical fingers. 

“You really have to stop resting in places that’ll give you backaches.” Wanda chides, hands sliding underneath your shirt for better access, sending a shiver down both of you.

“If I stop then how will I get more of those delightful massages from you?” You murmured with closed eyes, completely drunk off the feeling of Wanda’s warm hands on you. “It’s what I love most about you.” 

Wanda tensed, flattening her palms on your back, before continuing with trembling fingers to not raise suspicion. “Is that all?” She retorted, voice low. 

You posed a thoughtful expression, letting out a hum as you leaned back. “Also for the delectable cooking, so, two reasons.” You teased, holding up two fingers. Wanda scoffed, slapping the back of your head and removing herself the same second. You giggled mischievously, trying to get her to come back. 

Swiveling your chair around, you reached out for her and effectively trapped her between your legs, and Wanda rolled her eyes, ignoring how the position made her feel things. 

“So I’m just a housewife to you then?” She prodded, tilting her head in a way she knew would have you stumbling. 

You shook your head, gently uncrossing her arms and taking her hands between yours.

“You’re more than that to me Wanda…” Standing up you brushed the strands of hair away from her eyes, leaning in close enough to feel Wanda’s breath hitch and you smirked; whispering. 

“You're my housekeeper.” 

Approximately 0.5 seconds was what it took for Wanda to gasp and shove you back towards your desk, and you let out a hearty laugh. 

“See if I ever cook for you again.”

Her voice means to come out stern but you completely ignore it, thinking how adorable she looks with arms crossed and an almost annoyed pout on her face. It’s your arms that wrap around her that make her break, bringing her into a hug and making her cheeks flush again.

“I’m simply teasing witchy, you know I love you, all of you.” The words slide out easily from your lips as you lean down to press a tender kiss to her head and Wanda looks surprised, but then you quickly redirect your attention to the basket with a cheesy grin and Wanda stumbled. “Now how about we go enjoy that picnic then?” 

Your steps are quick as you grab the basket, ignoring her piercing gaze.

And with how unaffectedly you move, Wanda wonders if you could possibly love her differently in the first place.

—

3. In a tangle of webs + Peter

Some nights were harder than others for a mind reader. It wasn’t an uncommon fate for any Avenger either, everyone had their own issues and Wanda had just been so lucky to view all of them. If she had the choice she’d never choose to see them but if Wanda had learned something from all her years; nightmares were loud.

Loud enough to startle people from their subconscious, and loud enough to provoke detailed images of their clouded lives into replaying scenes in her mind. A horror Wanda didn’t yet have the strength to ignore. 

It didn’t help that most nights, they had them. 

Empty walls stared back at Wanda’s dimmed green eyes. Her hands firmly wrapped around her head—in a fashion of both comfort and control, trying to ease the pulsing, luring her into a state of ease just to slip into someone’s mind again. She wanted to stop the feeling and visions but couldn’t. 

After twenty more minutes of hopeless starring, the memories grew weaker. 

Still, her mind remained trapped in what she had managed to see. Deciding that sleep wasn’t going to help Wanda groggily stood forward, trudging down the stairs to grab a glass of water in the common room, maybe some chamomile tea. 

Part of her heart sought company, and if given the courage she’d knock on your door and ask for it. But this time, for once the universe seemed to be on her side when her eyes landed on you.

—with Peter. Laying in a tangle of limbs, and webs. Not exactly the conscious company she was hoping for…

Despite your clustered position on the floor you both seemed at peace. You were both fast asleep and for just a second her heart clenched with envy before simmering into a soft sense of affection. How was it that you could be so cute without even trying? 

Slow droplets poured from the facet and into her cup as she took in the sight, forgetting why she was even there in the first place. But then her eyes wandered over to the calendar, right, Friday. 

She felt silly not noticing sooner. Had she really been so caught up in her head that she didn’t notice what day it was? 

The unfinished Lego Razor Crest propped on the table should have given it away. 

Fridays were ‘Fundays’. 

Wanda thought it was stupid, which was probably why she wasn’t invited to the events. Not that she minded, considering all you ever did was build legos with Peter and occasionally talk about girls—and why would Wanda want to hear that purposely? 

She knew she had no right to feel jealous, it wasn’t wrong for you to think about other girls. But did you have to be so damn obvious about it? Your mind was a fortress when it came to penetrating your thoughts, it so rarely happened, but when it did she caught glimpses of the girl who was (annoyingly) always on your mind.

The girl with green eyes. 

Too focused on figuring out who that girl was again, Wanda lost track of how much water she really needed when the cup began to overfill. 

“Shit.” Wanda hissed, turning off the tap before the water could spill further. “Gross…” she grumbled, scrunching her nose as she dabbled at the wet spot on her sweater.

That was enough water for the night.  

Briefly, before she leaves, Wanda considers waking you up again. Maybe coax you into a proper bed this time around, but before she can make up her mind Peter’s bursting awake, looking panicked. His widened eyes meet Wanda’s equally alarmed ones and he sucks in a breath. 

“Oh, sorry… I thought…burglar.” He stammers, scratching the back of his head, albeit confused. “What time is it?” 

Glancing towards the oven, Wanda squints. “Late, it’s 3 AM.” She replies and Peter grunts, mumbling about how it’s way past his bedtime. 

Amid his movements to stand up, your head slips from his grasp, colliding with the foot of the table with a heavy thud and he stumbles back. Wanda gasps, shooting Peter a glare, (who doesn’t really register it in his state of distortion) before she rushes to aid you. 

“What the fuck…” You mumble groggily, hissing at the stinging coming from the back of your head, slowly lifting yourself up to find a concerned Wanda helping you sit. “Wanda?” Now you were really confused but nevertheless allowed her to move you. 

The room was cold, chills rushing through your body in the absence of warmth, but the soft touch of warm hands felt incredible against your skin. Not being able to help yourself you leaned into her touch, noticing the way Wanda’s breath hitched.

God, she was so cute. 

Wanda swallows dryly and you think you might’ve said that out loud, judging by the way her fingers tremble and she’s turning away a blushing mess. But you don’t dwell on it as she continues to rub the back of your head to ease the pain.

“Are you okay dorogoy?” She coos and you nod wryly, her face contorting into one of mellows but neither of you says anything. Instead, you will your eyes to focus on her own, gazing into the depths of the forests that haunt your heart, and you have no clue why.

Sighing, she redirects her attention, eyes flickering between the both of you who are lost in thought. Part of her feels it’s from exhaustion but there’s something else written on your face that has her curiosity peaking. 

“Why aren’t you in bed? Both of you, it’s late.” She chides gently, and you flinch. 

“We got caught up with…” Peter starts to explain, motioning towards the Lego set and his demeanor avoidant. “that.” 

Wanda notices his shaken tone and frowns. It’s clear she doesn’t fully believe him and she opens her mouth to indulge him further but you squeeze her hand, pursing your lips to ask her to drop it. Her brows furrow in silent question, eyes glinting with whirlwinds of misunderstanding and hurt, but you’re too tired to answer any. 

Instead, you give her a reassuring smile. 

Peter had a rough time yesterday, that’s all, little witch, You whisper into her mind, seeing Wanda’s eyes turn a shade of red before returning back to you, accepting the response with a hesitant nod. 

“You really should get to bed Y/n…” Wanda tells you, rising to her feet and offering you her hand in the process. “You too Peter.” 

Peter nodded in agreement almost instantly, not wanting to stay any longer in his state of lethargy. Wanda makes a mental note to speak to Tony about decreasing his work hours. 

However, in contrast to Peter’s compliance, you deny her suggestion with a shake of your head. 

“S’too far.” You mutter under your breath, tugging webs to the corners of each room to create a hammock so naturally as if you had done it a thousand times. Which you probably have. 

For a moment Wanda looked amazed, marveling at your abilities to manipulate and create whatever you needed with just webbed fluids. But then you were snoring soundly on the makeshift bed—hammock—oblivious to the concerns you had stirred up and Wanda realized that wasn’t the point. 

When she turned to Peter for help, the younger boy scratched the back of his head nervously, shrugging his shoulders and giving an apologetic look. 

Seeing as there was nothing else she could do, nor did she wish to wake you again for the second time tonight, a sigh escaped Wanda’s lips. Red tendrils wrapped around a blanket, pulling it closer until it encompassed your body completely. She felt the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, but with Peter in the room, she held back to avoid any awkwardness 

Your lips curled into a soft smile, and Wanda returned it before turning on her heels to guide the other spider into bed. 

At least this one listens. The thought came bitterly, causing Wanda to grimace. 

“I honestly don’t understand why she keeps doing this when she has a perfectly good mattress.” Wanda sighs deeply, her voice laced with exhaustion as she walks up the steps. 

Peter blinks, giving another helpless shrug, gripping onto the rail for dear life. “I think it’s just a spider thing, sleep is anywhere you make it.” 

“But you sleep in your bed every night.” She points out, shivering at the sudden temperature. 

The air is turning colder and Wanda wonders if the singular blanket she gave you would be enough. She’s tugging at her sleeves when Peter interrupts her thoughts. 

“That is true…” A yawn cut through the younger boy's speech as he approached his door, looking dangerously close to passing out. “But I don't have problems with sleeping alone.” 

Wanda furrows her brows as the words register. Alone? You can’t sleep because you feel alone? But before she could pry further Peter was leaning against the wooden frame, fast asleep. And Wanda didn’t have it in her to ask anymore. 

Once she had successfully tucked in Peter, she closed the door gently, never once did you leave her mind. Leaning against the door, Wanda tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, her mind caught in thought but one remained a constant. 

Spiders really can sleep anywhere. 

—

4. Staircases 

Tired was an understatement, Wanda was spent. Completely and utterly exasperated by your behavior. There was an outstanding record for the amounts of migraines you’ve given her this month, knocking Pietro off the scoreboard by two. 

She was starting to feel annoyed and rightfully so as she stared at the crowd with a sour expression on her face. For the fourth time in a month, you were nowhere to be found and it was your party. 

Before Christmas, it was a tradition in the compound to throw a Gala in honor of the friendly neighborhood spiders who had worked overtime to keep New Yorkers safe for the holidays and throughout the year. 

More so an excuse for Tony to itch that insatiable party nerve of his before the big Christmas one. 

Of course, this gala was no exception to a roaring crowd. The dance floor was packed with sweaty people grinding on one another and Wanda swears she could see even Bruce getting into the groove of it. At the bar, only Natasha remained with a couple of straying men. So where were you?

A completely plastered Tony walked past the witch, stumbling as he did so and fiddling with his pants. Immediately Wanda grasped on his suit before he could get too far, enticing a yelp when she tugged the man to a secluded corner. 

“Tony, where's Y/n?” Wanda asked through gritted teeth. She didn’t know why—call it intuition—but for some reason, she felt your disappearance had something to do with him.

Tony scrunched his face, glancing over her shoulder with urgency and shouting back louder. “Where’s the restroom? That’s what I’m trying to figure out Maximoff, I’m pissing myself here!”

“Y/n, Tony, Y/n.” Wanda says exasperatedly.  

Tony's mouth forms an ‘oh’ as the realization dawns on him before he’s giggling like a schoolgirl which only heightens Wanda’s worries. 

“Ah, Y/n, funny story actually—”

It was not a funny story, and hearing the end of it had Wanda feeling even more upset and aggravated at the man. 

She didn’t know whether to be more angry at the fact you “consented” to that stupid dare in the first place or Tony coming up with the bright idea to launch you midair while intoxicated in his death trap tin suit. 

Which is how Wanda found you, through Tony’s utter stupidity and your sleepiness. Much to her relief, you weren’t dangling from a ledge or on top of the Empire State Building; instead, cozied up on the staircase with a beer bottle in hand threatening to fall off at any given moment. Tony’s red helmet sat snuggly on your head, leaning against the wall. 

Wanda huffed in annoyance, rolling her eyes and approaching swiftly to wake you. Her hand collided with the back of your neck, sparing you absolutely no mercy as you sputtered awake. 

“Ouch,” You groaned, blinking dazedly beneath the helmet as all your senses came back to you, along with a searing headache. 

You grimaced at the sight of the bottle in your hand, setting it aside as if it could burn you with one single touch. 

That explains the headache.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.” Came that voice you knew all too well. You swore you could feel the hairs on your body standing as you slowly turned to see, shivering at the goosebumps, and being met with the sight of a very displeased Wanda. 

Her arms folded against her chest, head tilted at just the right angle to make you scared shitless. Still, the slight furrow to her brows and teary glimmer in her eyes had you thinking she wasn’t entirely angry, just, upset—sad. 

And maybe if your mind wasn’t so foggy, you would’ve taken it into account, and taken her into your arms. 

“Wanda…?” You murmured, attempting to feign innocence as if she wasn’t glaring daggers into your skull. “Oh! Wanda!” You exclaimed, mustering a very nervous chuckle. 

As if the helmet could sense your distress it decided that opening would be the best option and smiled sheepishly. Wanda raised an unimpressed brow, green darkened eyes digging into your soul and you sighed in defeat. Not exactly the happy welcome you expected.

Worth a shot.

“Don’t ‘Oh Wanda’ me! Seriously? Sleeping at a Gala!?” She hissed, and you stiffened, feeling the need to back up. “And on the stairs of all places, do you know how much of a hazard that is?”

You scoffed disbelievingly, feeling the need to defend yourself.  “Come on Wanda, we both know Tony’s parties—“ You cut off your speech, putting your fingers up in quotation marks to quote her.  “Sorry, ‘Galas’ are anything but formal.”

Then you’re pointing at the rousing crowd above you who you can hear yelling through muffled walls ‘Chug! Chug! Chug!’ and give Wanda a pointed look, who then rolls her eyes again.

“That’s not the point Y/n. It’s your party.” 

It’s Wanda’s diminished expression that has you sobering up instantly. Her tightened eyes stared back at your own, and you hated the guilt tugging at your chest. In the worst of states, you wouldn’t want her looking at you like that, not when you’ve seen her look at you better. It was selfish, but was it? To wish to see her smile again? You didn’t know, but it was worth more than whatever goddamn party—gala they threw at you. 

With a new mindset in mind, believing you’d have more fun with Wanda than without, you dusted yourself off, properly taking the helmet off this time. You carried it under one arm and offered the other. Wanda looked at you quizzically at the sudden change but you didn’t let that faze you, taking the initiative to wrap your arm around her own. 

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you just wanted to, so you did, leaning over to plant a short kiss on her cheek and Wanda lost all train of thought then and there. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry–I don’t know what’s the matter with me lately.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair and Wanda gives you a look of sympathy.

She squeezes your arm with her other hand, shaking her head. Her tone is soft as she rubs a comforting hand. “There’s nothing wrong with you Y/n…we all have our rough patches. Just, let me be there for you. You don’t have to hide away.”

 You suck your teeth, the urge to disagree coming in strongly but you resign, feeling embarrassed under her gaze and your confidence ends short-lived. 

Pursing your lips, your eyes drift downwards to your arms, not really sure what to do next. Noticing your struggle, Wanda takes pity on you and decides to drop the subject for another day, softly tugging on your forearm as she speaks. 

“Let’s dance?”

“Yes please.” You groan, barely finishing your sentence before Wanda leads you up the stairs and you almost stumble. Grumbling to yourself as you straighten up, you level Wanda a look in caution. “Just be warned, I can’t really tell the difference between my left and right foot right now.”

“It’s okay, you were never much of a good dancer anyway.” She hums teasingly, failing miserably at hiding her smirk.

You let out a gasp, feigning mock offense as you raise a hand to your heart, wounded. “Geez Maximoff, you know, typically you’re supposed to woo your dancing partner, not crush their hopes and spirits.”

The witch scoffs, rolling her eyes. Once you’re off the stairs and stable enough, she makes no point in waiting for you or giving you any answer as she walks through the bustling crowd and you quickly rush to catch up with her.

“Wow! And now you’re ignoring me!” You yell over the noise, a pout adorned on your lips. “And leaving me?! Wanda I must say, I’m not quite enjoying these new colors on you. What happened to manners–?”

You’re cut off abruptly by a sudden tug to your arm by Wanda, who’s pulling you to the side and you grin. She has two cups of what you assume is tropical punch in her hand and hands one to you. Lowering your nose, you smell the drink to check if it’s spiked. Wanda gives you an unimpressed look, and you think she looks hot when she’s annoyed with you.

Suddenly she’s slapping your shoulder with a burning pink tint on her cheeks, completely exasperated as she replies “My god, do you have an off switch?”

You shine a toothy smile, leaning against the wall for support as you bring the cup to your lips, a familiar mischievous glint in your eyes that has Wanda regretting saying anything. 

You cautiously lean into the space, whispering for only her to hear, “No, but I do have a couple of ideas on how to keep me quiet.”

To say it comes out more suggestive than you intended was an understatement. But Wanda doesn’t let that deter her, doubling down.

“Oh really?” Her head tilts, quirking an amused brow and you clear your throat to regain yourself.

The air becomes a little thicker than before and no amount of alcohol can save you from the blood pounding in your ears. The space between you has become thinner to the point where you can feel her breath on your lips and you pretend the close proximity holds no effect on you but your trembling fingers say otherwise. 

“Mhm, two words,” You murmur affectedly, and Wanda swallows. Your mind is clouded by all that is her so you speak slowly, feeling your throat dry. “Duck Tape.”

“One of these days, I’m gonna throw you out of the building.” Wanda huffs as you snicker, crossing her arms as she tries to fix her hair. 

Unable to help it, you tentatively reach your hand out, waiting for Wanda to pull away. When she makes no move, you carefully brush the strands away from her face, the warmth of your touch sending a shiver down her spine. 

Pulling away, you meet her hazy gaze and you swallow wryly, trembling. Giving her a lopsided grin as you stumble back, equally as affected. You really have to stop doing that. 

“Jokes on you, I’ve already done that tonight.” Comes your attempt to clear the air, resulting in another cross expression from the witch and you smile sheepishly.

“Y/n.”

Sucking your lips into your mouth, you nod. You raise a finger as you take one last sip from your cup, placing it on the table as you grab her hand again. “Right, sorry, dancing.”

Dragging her towards the dance floor, you spared one last look. This time finding pure adoration shining through her features as she stared at you almost…lovingly before she rolled her eyes. A look you preferred to see instead. Even if it had your brain short-circuiting.

A look that thankfully carried on when she found you half crashed into the Christmas tree after Tony had asked you to put up decorations, almost fast asleep.

“You’re an idiot.” Wanda sighed with a slight curl to her lips and you took that as a silent victory. She shook her head as she carried you down the hallway with her magic. 

“Yeah, I know…” You mumbled, still grinning which was quickly wiped as she let go of the magic carrying you. “Hey!”

Wanda squeaks as you reach out to grab her, running away the next second and you quickly follow with the promise that you’ll catch her, laughter echoing through the corridors as you chase each other.

—

5. Pillow Forts

Construction wasn’t exactly your forte unless it involved miniature bricks with instruction manuals. Aside from that, it was very obvious that Peter was the more resourceful spider as Steve liked to put it. You knew the man meant well when he said it and your ego completely shattered but despite the mental bruise, you never made a move to practice. 

It wasn’t like stopping trains or stringing a boat back together required much engineering when you had webs stickier than epoxy. 

And now, veins popping, sunk to your knees, you deeply regretted that decision. You wanted to strangle Peter, you envied his master builder abilities. The jumble of pillows on the floor mocking you with a stare that you could only describe as insulting if pillows could…stare. 

It was pathetic really, no, extremely pathetic and sad. Who has trouble building a pillow fort?! What was supposed to be a simple project, was the newfound bane of your existence. No matter how you positioned them, they tumbled. Limiting yourself to building by web fluid was becoming a choice to regret too. It made sense, every superhero grows dependent on their powers, it’s only natural, but this time you were determined to build something without your abilities. 

Glancing over at the clock, it read a little past nine—bordering on lines of ten- you bit the inside of your cheek, figuring you probably had a couple of minutes before Wanda’s arrival. 

Huffing, you returned your attention to the pillows and took them in your arms once more. This time with determination in your eyes and the thought of who you were building this for, remnant in your head and heart. 

As you stood back to admire your finished work, you surprised yourself. It wasn’t perfect and some pillows were more crooked than others but it was comfortable. Just as you had envisioned—from Pinterest boards.

It almost looked just as good as the ones Wanda had built for you after long missions and you wished you had spent less time staring at her and more time focusing on how she was arranging the blankets.

But the fortress only became better when you clicked on the tiny remote, turning on the fairy lights that hugged the curves of the pillows, bringing it all together in a bright vibrant glow and you smiled to yourself as the lights glimmered, imagining how happy Wanda would be. 

Your eyes returned to the clock and immediately widened next. “Shit!” You gasped, rushing upstairs to pick out the main attraction, silently scolding yourself for forgetting in the first place; Sitcoms. 

You grumbled to yourself as you dug through the drawer at the multitudes of never-ending options. Wanda had always preferred to watch sitcoms on a VHS tape, although the compound had access to all streaming services she claimed it didn’t feel the same. Truth be told, you didn’t understand why they were in your room in the first place but you assumed it had to do with the fact that Wanda always left them, tucked neatly in her nightstand before she curled underneath the covers with you.

You paused. 

Her nightstand? 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked across the room, realizing that there were a lot of things she left behind. Ranging from articles of clothing to a spare toothbrush in your bedroom and since when did you get decorative pillows? And why were there so many?  

You shrugged the thought off, assuming she was just really forgetful, besides it wasn’t like you were usually sleeping here anyway. You continued to dig through the classics until your eyes landed on the familiar I Love Lucy cover. 

Bingo

Smiling to yourself, you walked downstairs with the tape pocketed. Now you just had to be patient and wait a few until Wanda arrived from the hanger—

“Y/n?” Your heart startles and you're clutching your chest, turning to scold whoever scared you before the words die in your throat as you take in her appearance.

You suck in a deep breath because you feel as if all the air in your lungs has been taken.

She was breathtaking without even trying. Wet strands of hair clung to her face as she stared at you incredulously, eyes flickering between you and the fortress. Clad in nothing but a loose graphic t-shirt (that you briefly recognized as your own), and shorts that were making you dizzy. 

You cursed yourself mentally, shaking yourself out of any inappropriate thoughts. She’s your best friend for God's sake!

“Surprise?” That is what you say with a weak smile and a much higher pitch than intended. Keep it subtle. Things weren’t going entirely as planned, however, you could improvise. 

Wanda stares back amused, an unfamiliar glint in her eyes pooling, taking a step closer until her hand is dragging against your forearm. “Dorogoy, what’s all this?”

“I built it for us, I figured maybe you’d like to unwind…I know you had it pretty hard today and you’ve looked stressed all week.” You mumbled meekly, shifting against her touch. Pull it together man.

“Really?” She picked up her head, looking at you adoringly–that you missed from the bundle of nerves wracking at your mind, mistaking the look for one of contempt. 

But you pushed forward, believing it was a nice gesture. And even though all the logical parts of your brain tell you not to, you slowly untangle yourself from the witch anyway, missing the hurt that crosses her expression. 

You didn’t know why you were so nervous today. 

“Yeah, I picked out your favorite too.” You say half breathlessly, reaching for the tape in your pocket to show her. “Snacks and sitcoms, and more if you need anything. I’ve just gotta set up the TV before this and all since you came back a little earlier than I expected.” 

During your rant, you walked towards the television to find the player. Fiddling with it to distract yourself from the rising goosebumps picking at your body, but Wanda didn’t need to know that. With your back turned you failed to notice the scene unfolding behind you. Her eyes were slightly watered and she lingered by your side. Part of her, hesitant to reach out so instead she let them fall to her side, fiddling with her sleeves in a manner of comfort. 

Rummaging through the cabinets you exclaimed as you found it, turning forward with the device held to your chest, completely oblivious of the inner turmoil you’ve caused inside the other girl.

“Maybe even grab some popcorn unless you’d prefer chips? Seriously Wanda, whatever you want, I just want you to feel better—”

“Y/n?” She cuts in.

“Yeah?”

“Hug me, please?” She whispers, her voice cracking with desperation, her eyes unable to meet yours, ashamed of the vulnerability, and waves of regret crawl over you for letting go of her in the first place. “I’m sorry, I just really missed you and things went pretty badly- I just–” 

It’s you who cuts her off next, pulling her into your embrace, feeling her tremble against you. Wanda chokes back a sob, and tears blur your vision as you hold her tightly. 

You whisper words of comfort, murmuring, ‘I know, it’s okay, I know.’, while cradling her head against your chest. Despite being only slightly taller than her, you fit together perfectly, and you rest your head atop her chin. She exhales softly, her breath hitching with each shudder as she inhales your scent. Her arms move from your chest to return the embrace, burrowing herself into your chest and clinging to you as if you’d vanish again.

After a few moments, Wanda’s breathing begins to even, but she shows no signs of releasing you anytime soon. You gently squeeze her waist, hoping to draw her attention. Pressing a kiss to her hair, murmuring softly as you ask:

“Is…Is there anything else you need?”

Sighing, Wanda shakes her head, nuzzling further into you. “Just you, I don’t need anything else.”

“Okay.” You mumble into her hair, your fingers tracing gentle patterns across her back. For a moment, you stand there, bodies swaying softly as you hold each other. Selfishly allowing yourself to soak in the feeling of having her so close to you. “But if you even dare to grab my Cool Ranch Doritos just know I told you—”

Wanda groans, and you stifle your laughter when her hand playfully smacks your shoulder. You can almost feel her eyes rolling.

“Shut up, I don’t even like those.”

“Yeah right! I can still see the crumbs on your chin from last time!” You laugh in disbelief and Wanda pulls back gaping, completely affronted.

“That was one time!”

“One time too many! It was a party-sized bag—that I was planning on saving by the way, and you finished it!”

“Oh my god, just get in the fort before I change my mind and leave.”

It doesn’t take a lot of convincing to get you in the fort when soft hands lace into your own, dragging you inside. You’re more than willing to follow her anywhere.

She’s quick to push you into the pile of pillows, laughing when you squeal from the sudden impact. Shuffling underneath your arm and making herself comfortable against you, she turns to look up at you with a smile and you quickly turn into a flustered mess. With how she’s looking at you, you can’t help but feel that she’s doing it on purpose. 

Using her magic Wanda’s able to connect the TV from your position, not once disconnecting your bodies. She smiles in success when it works, sinking further into the comforting atmosphere as the show plays softly in the background. 

As the lights glimmer between your bodies, Wanda finds herself more captivated by you than the show itself. How could she not? After you’ve devoted so much of your time just to make her smile. A pang of gratitude hits Wanda’s heart, mingling with a feeling she knows all too well—a feeling she had tried to pass off as something smaller than love. But the more she spent with you, the more she realized it was pointless to deny.

Part of her hoped you’d choose to stay, to stay with her, because she isn’t sure how she’d be without you. 

Wanda knew she was letting it get into her head—but then you look at her, tenderly, as if she was the only girl in the world and fantasies resurfaced along with uncontrollable feelings that felt stronger than herself. Fantasies of one day being together, like this forever. Not just one singular moment but for the rest of your lives. 

The feeling of your body vibrating with laughter quickly snaps her out of her senses and she turns to look at the screen where a joke plays out. And god is that feeling one of her favorites. What drives her crazy is how you don’t seem to even notice how affected you make her. The way your hands would gradually grow bolder, slowly slipping past the hem of her shirt and grazing the skin underneath, leaving a trail of goosebumps in your wake. And how, whether consciously or not, you’d tighten your grip around her, pulling her in closer in a possessively deliberate way that had her biting her lip. 

Was it really selfish to want more? 

The thought swirled in Wanda’s mind heavily, but unbeknownst to her, it was in yours too. 

Wanda yearned for more than fleeting touches that led to nowhere. She craved more than unspoken vows you carried in silence, being too afraid to say anything, mortified by the thought of ruining what you had—unknowingly missing how you could have better.

Wanda Maximoff wanted to be yours.

The thought awoke her with a slight jolt and it had taken her a second to comprehend that she was asleep, the TV long since turned off then. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she recalled her vivid imaginations, realizing what had been originally just a second of resting her eyes had resulted in a 3-hour nap. 

But with the thoughts still fresh in her mind, Wanda couldn’t bring herself to care. She was on a mission.

“Y/n?” Her voice calls out slightly hoarse, breaking the silence. But the silence remains unbroken and Wanda frowns, removing her head from your shoulder to look at you. 

You’re sound asleep next to her, a faint trail of drool lining your lips. Bags are evident below your eyelids, and Wanda lets out a small ‘oh’. You had fallen asleep too.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Wanda shook her head softly, an amused smile playing on her lips as she admired you. Deciding that confessions could wait for another time, she leaned back and tugged a blanket forward, encasing you both again into that warm atmosphere. 

Recalling words you had said before: “A little back pain is worth the sleep”. She couldn’t help but agree more when it was next to you.

—

Together

There were two things you loved more than being Spider-Man in the world. 

Lightsabers, and maybe potentially Wanda. 

The latter being much more intimate than the first but you get the jist. The point was, that you liked Wanda. You were sure of it, with everything in your mind, body, and soul. 

So, why were you avoiding her? 

Cowardice.

Weeks had passed since that night. You still vividly remember the feeling of waking up to Wanda’s sleeping form, resting comfortably on top of you. After all, it was the best sleep you’ve had in a while.

The sight had initially startled you, but what scared you most was the normalcy of it all. The domesticity, how bright Wanda’s eyes shone in the daylight, looking at you as if you were a treasure from the depths of Atlantis. How eager she was to make you breakfast and how her touch never left yours throughout the process. 

Miles away in New York, you could still feel her. 

“Chocolate or blueberry?” Wanda asked, tilting her head to the side to look at you. 

The familiar scent of pancakes wafted through the air and you knew it was only a matter of seconds before the team came to steal them all.

Your hold remained firm on her waist as you hugged her from behind, swaying softly to the tunes of nothing. Not wanting the moment to end just yet, you remained silent, allowing yourself to bask in the peace. But Wanda had other plans, quickly squeezing at your arm to grab your attention and you rolled your eyes, amused by her impatience. 

Posing a thoughtful expression, you eyed the batter before turning to the basket of blueberries. They looked fresh, not too ripe to be sour, and not too soft to be soggy. 

“Hmmm, how good are the blueberries?” 

Wanda shrugged absentmindedly, whisking at the batter as she leaned back into you, stealing whatever warmth she could. “Pretty good, I grew them myself.” 

The mental image of Wanda in her gardening gear made you smile a little more than expected, and you hid into her shoulder, inhaling her scent. Absolutely hooked. 

“Did you?” You reply, watching as Wanda nods her head shyly and you chuckle. Unintentionally dragging your lips across her cheek as you press delicate kisses to her skin, murmuring softly in her ear, “What a talented little witch.” 

Wanda laughs, blushing as she attempts to shrug you away, not really understanding why you’re being so touchy but not opposed to it either. “Stop it.” 

Your lips tug into a lazy grin as you laugh with her, avoiding her attacks and keeping your grip firm. “It’s true Wands…you’re great at everything really. Never once have you failed to amaze me—“

“Here, try this.” That is all she says before shoving multiple berries into your mouth, distracting you before you can pay too much attention to her flustered state. 

You gasp at the sudden impact but graciously accept the blueberries into your mouth, playfully glaring at her as you chew. Her nose scrunches adorably, turning in your arms to watch you eat them, her face lighting up and offering you some more. 

Though, when you lift your hand to take them, she swats it away. Cupping your cheeks in her hands, softly stroking at your face with her thumbs, you rolled your eyes. Complying with rosy cheeks as she fed them to you.

As you held her, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, wrapped in a safe haven you’ve created. This moment was everything—a fragile glimpse into a future you desperately wanted but were too afraid to reach for.

Although neither of you seemed too keen on parting, Wanda’s hands were preoccupied with the feel of your skin underneath her own, repeating senseless patterns. That is until the oven goes off with a loud bang and you both break away bashfully. 

Before you can make a move, Wanda lets out a deep breath. Hands gently smoothing over your shirt, her touch lingering with tender care. She pats your chest softly, her eyes sparkling with warmth and affection.

“Blueberries it is.” 

You run a hand over your face as the memory washes over you, letting out a shaky breath. It shouldn’t affect you this much, and you didn’t want to read into it because that would require acceptance. 

The risk of ruining something you held so dearly hurts you more than the silence you keep. Heroes aren’t supposed to be afraid, and yet it’s all you felt in your heart at the thought of losing her. But your heart ached for more, just even the slightest glimpse into what could be. And when you closed your eyes, you could almost see it. An alluring figure stringing you along, captivating you with their lush green eyes, promising you that they’d be yours forever.

But those were dreams, not real life.

A real-life you wanted with Wanda.

You slowly sink into your thoughts, your mind both your stronghold and a labyrinth of sorrow. As you wipe the tears that blur your vision, you gaze down at the streets of New York. Despite the hour, the city remained wide awake. Citizens walked with pure radiance of confidence, towering buildings seeming so distant and away from where you sat. Did they know? Did anyone know that one of their beloved Spider-mans was capable of turning a mess so easily?

The weight of it all feels suffocating and no amount of air can prevent the tightness that clogs at your throat, heavy breaths leaving your body as you recount your errors. You were raised to believe that love was this grand, amazing thing. But now you want to scoff at everyone who fed into your hopelessness, fed into those lies. If love was so wonderful, then how come it hurt so much? 

But then, without warning your senses are ringing, and your eyes widen as a figure lands in your space with a slight stumble. The clouds of smoke that surround them make it hard for you to tell who it is and you raise your hand, ready to attack. 

And then, recognition dawns on you as the smoke settles. Your body easily relaxes and loosens the grip on your strayed mask next to you. With a trembling exhale, you lower your hand to take a moment to breathe, drawing in a deep calming breath and your lungs silently thank you.

“Hey, kid.” Tony greets, exiting his suit with a lopsided smile. One that doesn’t quite meet his eyes but you know better than to pry.

“Tony?” You furrow your brows, wanting to ask why he’s here but the bag in his hands tells you all you need to know. “Another late-night donut run?”

“Pepper thinks I should lay off the suits for a while.” He explains with a sigh, grunting as he sits down next to you, rattling the bag in his hands for emphasis. “And donuts are the only thing that both keep me busy and fulfilled. Win-win don’t you think?”

“Depends on what type of donuts you picked.” You mused with a hum. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Long John.” He retorts with a smirk, reaching into his bag to place a donut in your hands. Patting your shoulder as he did so. “Here, for your troubles.” 

You cocked your head curiously, examining the sweet with a soft smile. “A maple bar, sweet.” 

Thanking him, you took slow soft bites, savoring the sweet taste in your mouth as you looked towards the city in thought. You felt Tony’s stare and tried your best to ignore it, not wanting pity. 

“In my entire years of living, not once have I ever seen someone looking so sad while holding a donut.” He commented, taking a bite of his own donut and you release a sigh. “It’s really depressing to look at.” 

He spoke between bites, causing you to grimace. Backing away, you studied your mentor incredulously, analyzing his facial features in the hope it’d give you a clue as to why exactly he was here. Finding nothing, but an unusual softness to his features, you raised a wary brow.

“Did you come all this way just to patronize me, Stark?” You sneered with a glare. Feeling like the donut was really just bait to lure you into a conversation. 

Which you had admittedly been postponing from both Steve and him, using the city as an excuse to step away from your problems. It was only a matter of time before they caught up with you again. 

And here he was, the tightness behind his eyes diminishing as he stared at you, carefully, with laces of soft affection instead. You weren’t sure if you liked this look.

“A little birdie—or should I say spider, told me about your troubles with our resident Maximoff and I figured it’s time you got advice from the love doctor.” His hand came to his chest, motioning to himself and you scoffed in disbelief before turning into one of disgust. “And listen, I love Pietro, but I really don’t think—“

“Pietro?! Ew, god, no.” You say hurriedly, eager to dispel those rumors. Your distaste quickly turns into irritation as you realize with an offended gasp. “Is Peter seriously going around and spreading this?! Tony what the fuck.”

“Right, witchy then.” He sucks his teeth, waving a finger your way and you shove at his shoulders with embarrassment. Not letting that deter him, he scratches his chin, posing a thoughtful expression as he begins, “Love is scary, isn’t it? You’re scared. Scared of messing things up, scared of hurting her, losing her—“

“This is really inspiring Tony.”

“Pipe down Pipsqueak I’m not finished,” He huffed, clearing his throat before returning to his speech. “The point in all this is that you’re afraid. And that’s okay, so long as you don’t let those fears hold you back. Hell I’m still scared Pepper will leave me for someone more sensible, someone who won’t constantly be putting her in danger.”

His admission doesn’t come easy, and you notice the frown and crease in his eyebrows as he says so. Releasing another breath, you think about his words, and how fear could hold someone back. Reflecting on the past days, all you notice is clear examples of how it’s done this, stopping you from chasing what you really want. Still, you shake your head, voice cracking as you admit:

“I just don't want her to get hurt, or get hurt.“

Tony blinks, looking at you with an emotion you don’t know. But in his eyes, he sees himself, speaking gently, “You’ll never know if you don’t try, Y/n.”

“Think about it.” Comes the last thing he’s to say as he stands up with a grunt. Hands dusting himself off and bending over to grab his bag, pointing to you with a reassuring grin.

The words swirl around your head like a roundabout, leading to only one conclusion and you know what you have to do. Face those fears, even if the words get stuck in your throat. Before Tony can get too far, you stand up, stammering on your words as you thank him. 

Tony nods inside his suit, propelling himself as he speaks. “Anytime, stay in school, and help Peter with his history homework will you?”

You shake your head, chuckling softly and Tony ruffles your hair, flying off with a booming “Ciao!” Leaving you alone to collect yourself, bidding him goodbye. 

Placing the last bit of the donut in your mouth, you slip on your mask. Launching yourself through the city to reach your destination, flying past buildings and deep into the wooded suburbs where you’d find the compound. 

There wasn’t a world in which you could successfully avoid Wanda, not forever at least. It was torture for yourself too these past few days, and you’d be dammed if you did it again. 

As you reached the vicinity, fear washed over you again, your heart beating rapidly the closer you approached. Tony’s words rang in your mind and you huffed, ignoring whatever your senses were telling you and letting your emotions speak louder. 

Rest could wait until later, for now, you had a witch to confront—confess to. 

You decided to take the easier route, being her window as you had down many nights prior. As you swung towards the wall, you found yourself stuck. Hanging from the rooftop, hand frozen midair as you stared at your reflection, was this really a good idea? In the middle of the night? 

It was a tranquil, beautiful night, with fresh air flowing through the trees, and the only source of light being the soft glow of the moon. Your eyes softly traced through the beauty of nature, losing yourself in the picturesque landscape. Perfect conditions for an Avenger to catch some sleep in and you quickly found yourself double thinking by her window. Anxiety crawls through you—what if she was asleep already and didn’t wanna see you? Surely you shouldn’t interfere with Wanda’s beauty sleep. Or should you—?

“Did you really come all this way to see me just to hang outside of my window like a creep?” Your heart startled at the sudden voice and you didn’t even notice when Wanda had opened the window but there she was, a crooked smile on her lips with a curious tilt to her head.

The moonlight only enhanced Wanda's beauty further, and you knew you were staring. But you couldn’t tear your gaze away, mesmerized, counting every freckle you could spot; dreaming of one day kissing each speck you could find. 

You wondered if women like Wanda inspired philosophers to write the most beautiful sayings because you’re certain if you had the intelligence you’d do the same. It’s only when Wanda cleared her throat, a small blush tinting her cheeks, that you turned away. 

You sighed to try and collect yourself, letting your previous anxieties disappear. “Well, you know how much I love hanging out with you.” You joked, grinning at the groan Wanda let out as she shook her head disapprovingly.

“Dork.”

“Maybe.” You shrugged.

“Most definitely.” She says before moving closer, touching the ridges of your mask, and your heart races when she pulls it down just the slightest. You lean eagerly against her palm without a second thought, savoring her touch. It feels as if time freezes, and you realize how intensely you’ve missed Wanda these past days.

You think Wanda feels the same with how she looks at you, hand tracing the small scar etched into your chin with a frown. Her hand shutters a bright red and you lean into it like second nature, knowing what she seeks; to feel you. Something that came often after missions back home, a reminder that you were still here, but as you opened your eyes to stare back into her own, it felt different. Dangerously close to intimate and emotions build against your throat, constricting you because you can’t handle how close you are. How close you could be to changing things. Your defenses fly up again and you’re inching away despite not being able to get far with Wanda keeping you still–so you rack your brain, trying to find something to say to ease the tension—deflect, maybe a joke? 

But any witty retort you had is quickly forgotten as Wanda hesitantly leans closer, testing the waters, and freezing you on the spot. You’re sure Wanda can hear your heart racing, but she doesn’t seem to care. It’s only when you make no motion of moving that she brings your mouths together. And you think you’ve just taken a glimpse into heaven.

It's just as sweet as you imagined and more. Her lips are soft and sweet and welcoming, easily enveloping you in all that is her, something you fall into hopelessly yet again. You want to ask why she chose now to do this, but you don’t want to part. The position is less than ideal, and sure your neck is straining but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Wanda’s the first to pull away, equally taken by surprise by her actions, a deep flush taking her the next second with a small shy smile and you feel yourself swoon. 

You hesitate as you try to speak again, find the proper words to say but Wanda stops you, taking off your mask properly and lifting herself off the frame, walking back into her room. She throws your mask aimlessly away behind her desk but you’re not paying too much attention to it.

“Why don’t you come inside for once? Catch some real sleep, on a real bed.” She suggests invitingly, throwing you a playful look over her shoulder. You let out a breathless chuckle, flipping yourself over to enter her window, and closing it behind you in one smooth motion.

Wanda doesn’t say much else as you help her un-tuck the sheets, shooting you an appreciative glance and you pause, realizing it is her from your dreams. She’s the girl. The girl you can’t escape at night. It baffles you how you didn’t see her sooner. And suddenly you understand. 

You understand why you’re always thinking of her, why even in your sleep you don’t wish to leave. It’s not just some crush you’ve been harboring, no, it’s something more intimate. And you want to say it’s love, but you want to say it better. Not when you’re both so absorbed in the moment, so you wait, because for Wanda Maximoff you’d wait for any length.

“I do sleep.” You spoke softly, ignoring how nervous her stare was making you and the stare made you believe that she already knew. You sucked in a breath, knowing if you didn’t say it now you wouldn’t say it ever, “I’d just sleep better with you.”

Wanda’s eyes widened in surprise before softening in a way that made your resolve crumble and you looked away with a clumsy smile. It feels like a silly confession to make, but unbeknownst to you, it’s enough confirmation for Wanda.

Shuffling into the sheets, you turn to meet Wanda only for her to advance on you the next second into a much more tender kiss than before. It’s soft and a reassurance that she feels the same way, her lips tasting of strawberries and love. You melt into the kiss once again, placing your hand on her wrist that holds your face in place, deepening it to convey. 

“I’ll keep you to that,” Wanda murmurs between kisses, placing one last peck on your lips before curling in closer to your body, hiding in the crook of your neck. You chuckle and wrap your arms around her. 

Her presence enveloped you instantaneously, reducing every muscle in your body into mush; a wave of relief washed over you, almost in disbelief that this was real. It was almost overwhelming, how easily you found peace in her arms. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill as you realized that this simple moment was all you had ever wanted–a night of rest with the girl you cared for most, free from all the world's problems and whatever else dared to ruin you. 

As if she could sense something was wrong, the witch shuffled closer, her lips tenderly grazing against the skin of your neck and you tensed as she pressed. Her lips lingered against your skin, repeating the process over and over until you relaxed as if to say I know, it’s okay. When her legs intertwined with yours, you didn’t resist, understanding that she needed you just as much as you needed her. Instead, you held her tighter as if she could slip away if you didn’t. 

Truly believing that this was where you were supposed to be.  

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 25

Jason woke up and sat up on his bed, feeling something was off. He started scanning his room, squinting to better see in the darkness, his window was closed, he could tell it hadn't been opened, the firecracker hanging from the lock was still in place, he turned to look towards his bedroom door, only to come face-to-face with two glowing green eyes.

Jason: [Screak of terror]

Danny: Good morning father, I require substance.

Jason (after seeing his life flash before his eyes): We have food in the fridge and the pantry; make yourself some scrambled eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, or whatever you like, just make it a hot meal, breakfast it important, no junk food.

Danny: Please dad, I like the way you cook.

Jason (happy to be called dad): Fine, what do you want?

Danny: Everything you just said.

Jason: Scrambled eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns?

Danny: Yes!

Jason: Meh, sure why not?

Jason got up and started making breakfast for the two of them, Danny set the table, Jason served the food, and the two started eating.

Danny: Can we buy a waffle maker?

Jason: Excuse me?

Danny: Can we get a waffle maker? I'd like some.

Jason: Listen here young man, in this house we only belief in pancakes, so drop this waffle nonsense.

Danny: Father, waffles are clearly superior.

Jason: No son of mine is going to prefer waffles over pancakes!

Danny: Then I guess I'm not your son!

The two of them glared at each other.

Danny: How about we compromise and get a waffle and pancake maker?

Jason: I suppose that's a fair compromise.

Danny (smiling): Thanks dad, I love you.

Jason: Love you too bud.

(Master Post)

[psychemochanight]

I need a fanfic where fanon!Dick is the perception his brothers have of him, and Dick simply accepts those ideas of him, without trying to prove otherwise.

Tim admires Dick, yes, but he thinks he'd set a computer on fire if he tried to turn it on.

Dick, being the one who helped with almost the entire Watchtower system, who hacks into different Intelligence Services whenever he feels like it, and steals files from the batcomputer whenever he needs something and doesn't want to ask for it, without anyone knowing (not even Tim).

Jason, admitting that Dick is very socially intelligent, but horrible at other types of intelligence, especially math and literature.

Dick, who was a top student who graduated from high school early in advanced classes and only doesn't pursue further college degrees because he is too bored to go to class, plus, he won every math competition he entered and was considered a genius by Bruce, Alfred, and his teachers. (And he read all the books in the mansion since he was little, but he is more fond of classic literature than modern literature).

Damian, thinking Dick is too soft, that he works on hugs and doesn't know how to set boundaries because of how kind he is.

Dick, who can be even more brutal than Bruce when required, who actually prefers his personal space most of the time (he does like physical contact, but not as much as everyone thinks), and that he has not only hurt people because of how strong his words are when he is angry, but he has gotten into fist fights with people to defend his own boundaries.

(He's still the one who knows Dick best tho, yes, he is too nice for his own good sometimes, but he's not stupid either).

And Duke is sure Dick can't cook to save his life because he always sees him eating cereal or just simple food.

Dick knows how to cook perfectly, he just likes simple food more and cereal is mostly because it is his comfort food and his need for sugar to keep going.

Not to mention everyone thinks he's a playboy, heartbreaker and all that.

No, (actually Tim had more partners than him, lol), and Dick is quite a demisexual, romantic person, who feels sick whenever something ends in a one night stand, because he feels that those things should be done with someone he loves. Plus, he really doesn't even like people complimenting him on his looks; even though everyone thinks he enjoys the attention, which is why his brothers send him thirst trap type videos made by his fans (both Nightwing and Dick Grayson's).

Girls actually believe some of these things too, but not to the extent that boys do.

It can also play on the fact that other people rather think that Dick has anger issues and is completely violent, or thinking that he was Bruce's nightmare when he was a child.

Extra points if it has a mention that he's the one who's actually addicted to coffee and insomniac, lmao.

[kashverse]

Please nanami hurt/comfort I'm on my knees🙇‍♀️

the high priestess of the kashverse is incapable of writing angst, you must understand. i still hope you like this though :)

sometimes, you didn’t like how nanami worked himself to the bone. it wasn’t that he resented it—on the contrary, he did it so effortlessly, like it was just part of his existence. cleaning, cooking, making sure yuuji was entertained, doing all the little things that made a house a home. it was admirable, but also exhausting to witness. and whenever you tried to help, he hesitated.

just a split-second pause before he handed you a knife, before he let you fold the laundry, before he let you take something off his plate. it was like he had to fight some deeply ingrained instinct that told him he had to do it all alone. which made you wonder—what were you here for, then? to come home, play with yuuji, and sleep beside him every night? to be a guest in your own marriage? you hated feeling that way. hated the way it simmered inside you, quiet and bitter, whenever you reached for a chore and he gently but firmly redirected you away.

so tonight, you didn’t ask. you just sat down beside him at the kitchen table, took a pod from the basket, and started peeling peas. for a moment, nanami didn’t say anything. he only glanced at you from the corner of his eye, watching as you carefully split open the shell and thumbed out the little green pearls.

"you don’t have to," he murmured after a beat, fingers still working rhythmically, effortlessly. "i know," you said, plucking another pod from the pile. "but i want to."

he sighed—not in annoyance, but something closer to surrender. it was quiet work, the kind that slowed the world down, the kind that didn’t require thinking. and yet, his brows were furrowed, his mouth pressed into that familiar, pensive line.

then, without looking at you—"i’m sorry."

you glanced up, fingers still absently working the peas. "for what?"

"for not letting you help." he exhaled softly, shaking his head. “i don’t—it's not that i don’t think you’re capable. it’s just… easier, sometimes, to do things myself. to have them done a certain way.” you smiled a little. “you mean the right way.” nanami huffed a quiet, amused breath through his nose. "maybe."

"you’re kind of a control freak, you know that?"

"i do."

and yet, despite his usual insistence on perfection, his pace slowed just a little, like he was finally allowing himself to share the weight of the work. silence stretched between you again, but this time, it was comfortable.

and then—"yuuji tried to eat a rock today."

you blinked. "what."

nanami nodded gravely. “he was very confident about it. told me it looked like one of my cookies.” you snorted, shoulders shaking with barely-contained laughter. "which ones?"

"the oatmeal ones."

that did it—you burst into laughter, head tipping back, and nanami tried to hold back his own smile but failed spectacularly, shaking his head in exasperation.

"i swear, he’s going to give me a heart attack before i turn forty."

you giggled, nudging your knee against his under the table. "but he’s cute."

"debatable."

you both fell into an easy rhythm again, peeling peas in quiet companionship, the weight in your chest finally easing. because nanami wasn’t perfect. he messed up. he held on too tight sometimes, carried too much, forgot how to share the load. but he was learning, and that was enough.

[slut4jeon]

I’ll wait for your love (jjk)

Pairing: babydaddy!jk x fm!reader

Sypnosis: co-parenting with Jungkook was easy until it wasn’t

“You cling to your papers and pens. Wait until you like me again. Wait for your love. Love, I'll wait for your love.”

Note: “We Can’t Be Friends” by Ariana Grande inspired me. This fic was also inspired by the original 1961 “The Parent Trap” for a certain scene.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, mentioned drinking, angst, unprotected sex, etc

Co-parenting with with Jungkook after your recent split needed better improvement in the future.

Since he worked in the early mornings he would take your daughter Eunbi to school. Passing by your house to pick her up. Such as today, when arriving to your home it wasn’t required for him to ring the doorbell or for you to get up and open the door for him.

You once lived together, there was a spare key kept underneath the welcome mat in front of your doorstep. He made way into your home seeing that you both were still asleep. Heading over to eunbi’s room to awaken the sleeping child up for school.

“Bug, it’s time to get up, you’ll be late for school.” awakening his child

“daddyyyy!”, the child excitingly mumbled as she awoke to see the presence of her father.

“Missed you bug, now go on now potty and brush your teeth while I go wake up mommy, m’kay?” Jungkook said while laying out eunbi’s clothes for today. It’s been snowing lately, so layers were needed.

“okay”, the child could only follow the instructions he father had given while rubbing her sleepy eyes.

Jungkook made way to your bedroom where he’d seen the sight of you softly in bed still in deep slumber. You looked so beautiful in tranquility. His gaze softened at your appearance.

The night of your split wasn’t expected. You had garnered up the courage to make apparent how you didn’t approve of him overworking. You understood as he was in the middle of forming his business meaning it required time. But you worked too, you had everything you’d wanted right with you. Til’ his absences led to rescheduled plans and no show dinners.

And that night he had returned late as usual you could no longer keep it to yourself. He had returned home clearly drunk and reeking of alcohol.

Jungkook had blabbered nonsense which led up to this coparenting arrangement. Blabbering some more while intoxicated, he had no filter in what he said which he sure was going to regret once sobered up. Like they always say ‘drunk thoughts are sober thoughts’.

He made you feel belittled as if you and your daughter were a burden to him, a nuisance. Almost as if his business was worth prioritizing more than his family.

“needed a break” or “get off my back” holding you little to no regard.

Jungkook could not live without you and once sober he realized the gravity of his mistake. There was no making amends to what he had caused.

Now you weren’t sure how long this punishment of pushing him away was going to last. Unsure, but just for as long as you deem suitable for the amount of unease he caused you that night.

You loved him equally as much but you kept it reserved unlike Jungkook. He demonstrated in many ways him making up of his actions and words. By always being there when calling upon him, bringing you takeout when you’re too lazy to cook something for dinner, bringing you pads and any other necessities to make your cramps lessen and ease away.

So when jungkook stared at you in adoration at your peaceful figure he felt his heart swell. He inches closer to you siting on the edge of your bedside while leaning forward to caress your hair.

“Sweetheart, it’s 6:47am eunbi’s almost ready she has yet to eat” he said in attempt at awaking you to fix your daughter’s breakfast like you normally do every mornings.

“Too tired…” you lightly mumbled as you turned in sleep and hugging the covers.

“Is that so? Too tired? I can take care of her breakfast sweetheart, you just stay in bed”, jungkook said as he fondly looked at you and landed a peck on your cheek.

As he stood up from the bed about to leave the room your hand met his wrist stopping him. “Jungkook, thank you”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart”, then he was off.

Jungkook had just arrived back home after work. Coming back to a silent home like every other day since your split.

The emptiness, the lights were off, the heater was off, it was disturbingly clean. He didn’t like to return home to this.

He had showered and rid himself of his usual suit and tie, about to prepare himself dinner til the sound of his phone ringing broke his focus.

It was strange to recieve a call as late as 8:40pm if it was not regarding eunbi, she slept at 8:00, so what could you have been calling him about?

“what’s up yn? Is there something wrong? Is Eunbi okay?” He voiced concerned

“No, there’s nothing wrong with eunbi, I actually let her stay with my parents today”

“Oh…” there was a moment of silence

“Hey Jungkook?” You said on your side of the call

“Mhm?” responding

“Could you come over? Please?”

He raced on over to your place then after.

Shutting the door to prevent the chilly air due to the snow enter your home, jungkook makes way.

The heater was on, it smelled of fall due to the scented candles you kept in certain places, the lights were on, family pictures hung on the walls, Eunbi’s toys scattered on the carpet. This was what home is. The nostalgia running back to him. Endearingly gazing upon the area, how he missed this sight.

Drastic difference of how life at his home was currently like.

“Hey sweetheart, it smells good in here. What ya’ making?” removing his padded jacket, scarf and gloves. Taking in the aroma of what you were currently cooking.

“Steak and roasted asparagus, sit down. Are you hungry?”

“I’m famished” jungkook truly was, upon your incoming phone call he had just gotten off work and hadn’t had the time to eat dinner yet.

“Sit yourself down then, I’ll set your plate”

He missed domestic moments like these. Overall any quality moments where it was just the two of you shutting out any thoughts of crossed boundaries.

“I’ll get us some glasses to drink our wine, give me a sec” you voiced

Jungkook’s eyes followed your figure as you had your back facing him stepping foot onto the stool, reaching for the wine glasses kept in the cupboard with tippy toes. He drank in your appearance, how angelic you looked in your simple slip dress and shawl. Even though you dressed comfortably for home you were indeed breathtaking.

Setting the glasses onto the dining table while jungkook popped the cork of the wine and poured the liquid into both glasses, with that the table was set.

Digging into the home cooked meal with wine Jungkook couldn’t help but stare at you in admiration. You catching onto his pupil enlarged stare made a questioning eye contact with him.

“oh yn, you’re so beautiful” puppy eyed jungkook muttered

Sarcastically scoffing at his compliment. You were never one for compliments, never knowing how to acknowledge them or return them.

“Oh please, jungkook” trying to steer away from the conversation knowing you’d get emotional, jungkook continued.

“I mean it yn…I know I don’t say things like you wanna hear them and I know I’ve acted like a complete asshole too but I have to get it off my chest when I say I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately…and us, and the way things used to be.”

You felt irritation in your eyes and lip quivering, your waterline beginning to dampen hearing Jungkook’s heartfelt statement.

Not wanting him to see you break down you turn your head away. Using your soft hair to your advantage hiding away your face.

Jungkook took note of your exterior breaking down, hearing your resisted sniffling, extending his hand reaching for yours.

“I miss it all, especially the silliest things” getting up from his seat heading over to your side where you remained seated, he crouched while placing his hand on your thigh.

Upon hearing that, curious you turned your head towards jungkook where he took in your rosy tinted wet cheeks by your fallen tears and glistening eyes.

“What silly things?”, curiously asking

“I miss your bra’s you’d leave hanging on the doorknob of the restroom, I miss how you’d store my tools with your sewing supplies together, I miss my razor being dull because you’d use it to shave your legs with, I don’t like having a closet all to myself, and y’know it’s no fun swearing because you’re not there to make believe you’re shocked by it.”

“Nothings any good with you yn, I miss a lot of things.”

Gathering the courage to speak you finally voiced out, “why’d you take so long to say these things Jungkook?”

“I guess it’s because I was kinda hoping you’d come back to me upon your own will, I know I messed it all up for us. I wanted it to be up to you to decide whether you’d forgive me. I was just scared that you’d get irritated by me and never want me again…” with that Jungkook began struggling to voice his words, eyes brimming with tears as well.

No words had to be exchanged. You knew with all certainty you could not live without this man.

Pulling him into a desperate kiss, connecting both lips together he hugged your smaller frame, “oh Jungkook, I can’t take this anymore”.

Wrapping his arms around your waist while having one hand then reach towards your nape to push both lips in closer proximity, “Then don’t, I want this as much as you do, sweetheart.”

Eagerly responding the intimate kiss jungkook could not grasp the reality of this, feeling that at any moment he’d awaken from a dream.

“mmhpm, fuck…missed this, missed you”

His lips trailed onto your neck. Smothering wet kisses and bruises all around. Your manicured hands trailed to his neck followed to his hair where you gripped the roots as he continued to abuse and litter purplish marks on your neck.

“mhff gguk…need you so bad”, you panted

“Need you just as bad, baby. Waited like a horny dog for this moment.”

“gguk?”

“Yea, baby?”

“Need your cock in me…”

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my pants.”

Leading Jungkook to your bedroom where you laid on your elbows to watch Jungkook as he undressed. Removing his hoodie head first then getting rid of his shirt after leaving you with a view of his sculpted upper body and a bitten lip.

From the athlete of sculpted greek god abs to the happy trail and waistband of his Calvin Klein briefs. Your eyes trailed over every tensed muscle to inked sleeve catching the tattoo he’d gotten of your initials in cursive many years ago.

You couldn’t resist the temptation the beef cake standing in front of you. Adoring his abs with wet kisses leading up to pecks where your wet muscle teased his nipple.

He couldn’t resist himself either. How you looked under him had the tip of his cock leaking of precum.

Your slip had been sliding off your shoulders. Dangerously almost exposing your full breasts to him. He’d noted how hardened your nipples were as they poked through the thin fabric.

“God, yn… I need to have you now.”

“What are you waiting for? Get to it then.”

He missed this bratty side of yours. The sharp tongue that’d always have you ass up on his lap.

“Keep doing that nd I’ll find other ways to use that mouth of yours.”

You had missed this side of jungkook just as much. His domineering aura had you coating your panties in wetness. He was naturally a softie at heart but when it came to tussling in the bedsheets he was somethjng different.

It’s been months since you last had dick. Whenever you were ovulating it been hard to suppress yourself whenever jungkook was present. He had made it hard especially cause for some damn reason he always looked good. That angered you more.

“Oh fuck! Gguk!” He had you on all fours as he thrusted balls deep into you at a relentless speed.

“S’ too good, baby. Fucking hell, cunt’s too tight. Been neglecting this pussy. Real clear it misses me.” Jungkook said in ragged pants.

Eyes remaining on the way his hips slammed against your plump ass, recoiling at the movement.

“Fuck ggukie, don’t stop…mhhff jus like that..” your head facing toward his direction. You looked like a goddess to him. The way he was taking you from behind to the way your face carried a pleasurable expression with frowned brows and strands of hair falling.

“Didn’t think of it, baby. Let go for me hun, coat this dick.”

“mm..yes! Oh fuck!” You yelped as he lifted your body against his sculpted chest. This angle creating more ecstasy to your arriving orgasm.

Face close proximity to yours where he hid his face in your neck lathering it in bruises. Inching closer to your ear lightly nibbling on the edge of your ear.

“Shit, baby… never get enough of you. Missed having you in my bed like this all for me.”

His words had you on the edge. Hips meeting his own in greed of chasing your high.

He felt your walls clenching upon his length. As well as his own high coming as well.

“Oh fuck.. where do you want me, hun?”

“Inside please, want it inside.” You were quick to respond.

Final thrust and both came in unison. Jungkook rode both highs out as he slowly thrusted. Sliding his now softened dick out of your cum filled cunt.

Arms now wrapping around your figure, both laying in each other’s embrace.

“Love you, baby.”

“I love you more.”

end

[dreamersparacosm]

under the checkered flag - epilogue blurb 2!

prompt ; in which sunday’s are your favorite day.

warnings ; tooth aching fluff. that’s all. watch out for cavities yall xoxo

request ; linked here

part of under the checkered flag universe

There’s some song written about days like these with your boyfriend. Something about Sunday mornings, something about them being all you need.

It’s like it always is with you and Jungkook—a soft, slow Sunday morning where he isn’t subject to interviews, training, or anything that requires him to take his time away from you. You savor these moments, them being far and few between. You’ve adjusted to it in the long time you two have been together, and now find solace in the peace of your home, in the moments away from the races and Excel sheets.

And it would be all beautiful and dandy and sunshine and rainbows on this particular morning, however, when your hands outstretch, shaking the sleep from your body, feel the sheets next to you, you realize it’s empty. Jungkook’s warmth is gone.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you shuffle into your slippers, wrap the wool blanket around you that his mother had gotten for you, and make your way to the living area of your home.

The smell of buttered toast and sizzling sausage wafts into your nostrils as you shuffle through the house. It’s warm, inviting, a scent wrapped in comfort.

And to no one’s surprise, you find the origin of the scent standing in the kitchen.

Jeon Jungkook, in all his sleepy, early-morning glory. Hair still a little messy, a loose t-shirt hanging from his frame, his silver chain glinting under the soft kitchen lights as he stands by the stove, spatula in hand.

You blink slowly, dreamily, adjusting your eyes to the light as you lean against the doorway.

“You’re up early,” You yawn, voice still thick with sleep.

Jungkook turns at the sound, a grin immediately spreading across his face at the sight of you.

“Morning, baby,” He hums, reaching for you instantly, tugging you toward him with ease. You let him, stepping into his warmth, arms looping lazily around his waist as you press your cheek against his back.

“You’re making breakfast?” You mumble, peeking at the pan of perfectly cooked eggs, golden and fluffy.

Jungkook chuckles, one hand still flipping the eggs while the other sneaks down to squeeze your fingers. “Your favorite,” he confirms.

Your heart swells, the simple gesture so unbearably sweet, so him. He has yet to fail you in the sweetest boyfriend competition.

But then, as another yawn escapes you, a thought hits.

“It’s too early for this,” You whine softly, nuzzling into his back.

Jungkook laughs again, light and warm, but before he can reply, you’re already fighting him. “Come back to bed,” You sigh, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his shoulder.

“Tempting,” He drawls, reaching for some seasonings in the cupboard. You grin against his skin, fingers tracing lazy shapes against his waist.

“I just wanna cuddle,” You say, not quite a lie, but also not the whole truth. You also want to drift back off to sleep, something you do best when you hear his heartbeat pounding away underneath your ear.

Jungkook hums, turning the stove off before spinning to face you. “That’s all you want, huh?”

You blink up at him, playing innocent. “Mhmm.”

His grin deepens, and he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. “Eat first,” he says, lips still grazing your skin. “Then I’m all yours.”

There is a warmth pooling through the windows as you and Jungkook settle onto the living room couch, plates in hand, breakfast steaming between you. There’s something so domestic about it, something you never thought you would have with someone like him. Maybe it’s the way he sits beside you, thigh pressed against yours, comfortably close as he digs into the food he made for you both. Or, the way he occasionally reaches over, stealing bites from your plate despite having the exact same meal on his own. It’s these small moments that make your heart ache in the best way, the kind of love that settles in, familiar and steady.

“So,” Jungkook starts, nudging your knee with his. There’s a quiet hum of the TV in the background, playing some weekend morning show neither of you are really watching. “What’s the plan for today?”

You chew thoughtfully, taking a sip of your coffee before answering.

“Well,” you begin, shifting slightly to face him. “We need to pick out a gift for my coworker’s baby shower next weekend.”

Jungkook’s brows lift instantly, eyes flickering with sudden interest. “Oh, right. When is that again?”

“Sunday afternoon,” you reply, setting your plate down on the coffee table. “We should probably get something soon. We’ve gotta outdo Jisoo, she said her budget for this was her whole paycheck.”

“What do we get her?” He muses, shoveling another bite of eggs into his mouth before glancing at you. There’s excitement creeping into his features like he’s a kid in a candy store. “Like, a stroller? Cute baby clothes? Oh! What about one of those little stuffed animal things? You know, the ones with the big heads and tiny bodies? Jellycats?”

“I think she’d love that,” you say, unable to hide your smile. “You’re really into this, huh?”

Jungkook shrugs, grinning through a mouthful of food. “Babies are cool.”

It’s subtle, but undeniable. You had never really thought of it, never let yourself dream. It wasn’t because you couldn’t have it, you knew that much. In fact, there was a small part of your brain, tucked deep within your subconscious, that hoped and prayed it would be Jungkook at the end of all this.

Of course he’s like this. Of course he’d be good with kids, thoughtful and compassionate.

You picture it before you can stop yourself: the way he’d probably be the most hands-on dad, the way he’d play with his kids, spoil them rotten, make them laugh until their little bellies hurt.

Deep down, you picture them with him. With his eyes that resemble boba pearls, his ridiculous bunny-toothed smile, his heart.

You don’t hate it. You actually want it so bad it scares you to death when you think of the possibility that it could not happen. But you shake that thought away before it can fully settle.

“Earth to [Y/N]?” Jungkook’s voice pulls you back, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Where’d you just go?”

“Nowhere,” You lie, reaching for your coffee again.

Jungkook narrows his eyes, clearly not buying it, but to your luck, he lets it go, smirking as he nudges your thigh again.

“Okay, space cadet,” he teases. “Then we need to make a choice. I’m all in on the Jellycat.”

You’re laughing again, warmth spreading through your chest as the conversation fills the room, the sunlight peeking through the blinds and illuminating his features.

He doesn’t dare bring up how his heart aches for the same thing that you do.

Jungkook is still focused on his breakfast, chewing thoughtfully as he leans back into the couch. You’re sipping your coffee, still trying to shake the ridiculous warmth still lingering in your chest from the idea of a mini Jungkook running around.

You don’t get to finish the end of your daydream, however, because Jungkook drops a bomb of epic proportions on you, enough to shatter your world and explode into smithereens.

“I kinda want a baby.”

You choke on impact. The sip of coffee you had just taken goes down the wrong way, and then, to make matters worse, the bite of eggs you were mid-chewing follows suit. Enter stage left: a dramatic fit of coughing.

Jungkook’s head snaps toward you immediately, eyes widening in alarm as he quickly sets his plate down, patting your back with firm, steady hands.

“Shit, babe, breathe,” he says, brows knitted in concern. “You okay?”

You nod between coughs, waving him off as you struggle to swallow properly. The man must be out to kill you if he’s going to say things like that, in your shared home, that you pay half the rent for (he believes in chivalry.) After what feels like an eternity, you finally manage to clear your throat, wheezing slightly as you blink up at him.

Jungkook is just staring at you now, mouth parted slightly, as if he’s unsure whether to laugh or keep worrying. “What the hell was that?” He asks, clearly holding back amusement.

“I—” you pause, pressing a hand to your chest. “Sorry, I just— what did you just say?”

Jungkook blinks. Deadpans. Realizes his words may have carried more weight than he thought. “I said I kinda want a baby?”

His hardened exterior fades and his expression tips, a little nervous. “Wait,” he says, tilting his head. “Is that… weird?”

Thoughts buffering..

“I just—” you stammer, still slightly breathless from your near-death experience. “I didn’t know you wanted all that… with me.”

Jungkook’s expression softens immediately. He didn’t even realize it was something you might question. He thought it was a done-deal, cross his heart and hope to die. Jungkook was never really sure of many things in his life besides racing and gold medals, but this.. this, he was so sure of.

He exhales, reaching for your hand instinctively, threading his fingers through yours.

“Baby,” he murmurs, voice warm, steady, grounding you. “We’ve been dating for a little over a year.”

One year. One year of knowing him, loving him, building a life together. One year of late nights tangled in sheets and early mornings, such as this one, where his sleepy voice is the first thing you hear. Of laughter echoing in spaces that once felt too big for you, of shared glances across crowded rooms that say more than words ever could. You didn’t even realize it was all coming together until you looked around one day and saw a life that was so intricately woven with his, it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

“Yeah,” you swallow, eyes flickering down to where his thumb is slowly tracing circles against your skin. “I guess we have.”

“You know..,” he begins, his excitement bubbling up before you can even process your own., “I think you’d be the best mom.”

You suddenly feel dizzy, like your breath has been punched out of you.

“You really think that?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook nods immediately, shifting closer on the couch, eyes flickering over your face; the man is already picturing it.

“Are you kidding?” he scoffs, grinning so wide it makes your stomach turn over. “I can already see it. You, holding our baby, doing that cute little humming thing you always do when you’re focused, like when you’re crunching numbers for clients. Probably making tiny little meals, cutting everything into heart shapes because you do that for me already.”

You laugh, but it’s shaky. “Jungkook—”

“And I’d be the fun dad, obviously,” he continues, unstoppable now. “Teaching them how to ride a bike, letting them get away with stuff when you say no. Probably buying them toy racecars too early because I get too excited.”

You see it so clearly it almost hurts. Jungkook, holding a tiny hand in his, a child with his nose and your eyes, running ahead while he watches with that soft, lovesick smile. Jungkook, pressing a kiss to your forehead while you rock a baby to sleep in your arms.

You want that so badly. Now, it’s within arms reach, and you want to reach out and clutch it to your chest so tight it can’t run away. You swallow hard, eyes burning, blinking rapidly to fight off the sudden rush of emotion.

“Baby,” Jungkook notices immediately, voice dropping as his smile falters slightly. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” You whisper, and it’s true. It’s not sadness weighing you down. It’s everything else. Hope. Love. The terrifying, overwhelming realization that you could have everything you ever wanted, and it’s sitting right in front of you, ready for you to take it.

“Just…” you pause, voice trembling slightly. “I guess I didn’t know I could have that with you.”

“[Y/N],” he breathes out, bringing a hand to cup your face, his thumb tracing delicately along your cheek. “I want nothing more.”

You don’t want to overthink it, don’t want to let it linger too long in fear of it disappearing.

“I want that too,” You whisper.

You feel it, the way his whole body tenses, the way his fingers freeze against your cheek. His eyes, wide and searching, lock onto yours, scanning your face for any sign that you might not mean it.

“You do?” His voice is quieter than before, hardly recognizable.

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “I do.”

There is a slow, breathtaking smile that lights up his whole face, makes his dimples appear, makes something inside you feel like it’s unraveling in the best way.

“Well then,” he muses, shifting even closer, his hand sliding down to rest over your thigh. “We should probably start with marriage, hmm?”

You choke. Again. This time, on your saliva.

Of course, Jeon Jungkook would just casually drop that into the conversation like he’s talking about the weather, like he’s asking if you want almond or oat milk at the grocery store.

“I—” you splutter, wheezing slightly as your brain short-circuits for the billionth time this morning. “I—what?”

“Okay, that’s enough,” he laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners as he squeezes your thigh. “I need you alive long enough to actually get a ring on your finger. At this rate, Im nervous that if I actually propose, you’ll pass out.”

“Well, you can’t just say stuff like that!,” You half cry out, half mumble.

“Why not?” Jungkook teases, “It’s true. You’re already stuck with me forever, might as well make it official.”

The thought of forever with him doesn’t scare you like it probably should, like it would’ve a year and some months ago.

As Jungkook continues rambling excitedly about your future—about rings and wedding colors, about how he’s definitely going to cry when you walk down the aisle, about how your first dance has to be something ridiculous like a choreographed number—you just watch him.

It’s somehow overwhelming in the best way.

Because if someone had told you back when you first met, back when he was just a racecar driver with a gaggle of fan girls, at the apex of the NASCAR world, that this is where you’d end up, you wouldn’t have believed it.

Now, you can’t imagine wanting anything else. Not when he’s right here, grinning at you like you’re his whole world, planning forever like it’s the easiest thing in the universe. Or, maybe it is that easy.

Oh, how you love Sunday mornings. They’re kinda like that song you listen to.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[kaiserthebiter3]

How would the l&ds men react if you told them that "the olive theory" applies on you two.

(The olive theory is in a relationship, one person liking olives and the other not liking them creates a balanced dynamic.)

Xavier , Rafayel , Zayne and Sylus x reader (separately)

Xavier

as you were trying to cook lunch for you two , xavier was standing besides you like puppy , still insisting that you let him give you a hand with the cooking , despite the amount of times you told him that his existence in the kitchen is alone dangerous.

you were cutting various types of vegetables that the dish you were making required , "come onnn" he tugs at your shirt lightly , "No" you reply sternly , "at least let me check on the chicken in the oven" he says with his famous puppy eyes that are your weakness , but you don’t surrender , "if you I give you some of these carrots would you sit there to eat them and stop nagging? " , he pauses to think about your offer for a moment , then sighs in defeat , "alright" .

as you watch him eat , you wonder how he likes those carrots , "you know xavier? I really dislike carrots I don't know how you eat them" , xavier looks up from the plate full of carrots "I know" "I always eat them for you" , and that's when the realization hit you , "omg xavier" you say with a wide smile on your face , "it's the olive theory" you say enthusiastically , xavier furrows his eyebrows in confusion "what do you mean?" "I'm eating carrots not olives" , you roll your eyes at him "that's not the point , the point is that if you're always willing to eat something I don't like that means you balance me" you say stopping what you're doing to sit next to him , "which also means we're soulmates" you say that smile never disappearing , xavier takes a few moments to process what you said then chuckles , "that's silly" he says patting your head , "do you truly believe we're soulmates only because I eat the carrots for you?" , you pout at him "yes?" , you cross your arms "I always wanted this theory to apply on us because I strongly believe in it" , he chuckles again then plants a kiss on your temple "well if you say that a carrot would make us soulmates then carrot it is" he says assuring you .

Zayne

you always had this habit of removing the fruits from your dessert , such as the cherry on top of the ice cream , or the blueberries surrounding the peace of waffle .

This time as usual with you and zayne , you were trying out this new cafe that had just opened recently in linkon city , and you were dying to try out the pistachio flavored waffle that has gone viral on social media, while zayne ordered a chocolate cake , his favorite .

but once the dishes were served you noticed the banana slices put on top of your waffles , and you sulk "I can't believe it" you say helplessly , zayne looks at you in curiosity , then his gaze shifts to your dessert and now he gets it .

"can't handle those little bananas huh?" he says a little teasing smile on his face , "well , bananas taste awful you can't blame me" you pout at him , zayne shakes his head with a sigh , "honestly , I don't know how you're surviving without eating fruits" , "that's your job you eat them for me" you say giving him an innocent look hoping he'd give up on the lecture he's about to give you about eating healthy and all.

"just because I eat them for you doesn't mean you'll get any benefits from them" he says picking up the bananas from your plate to his , "that's ok because you get to be my olive theory soulmate" you say winking at him , he raises his eyebrow in confusion , "what's that?"

you chuckle at his expression "it's when your partner eat a part that you don't like about your food so it doesn't get wasted , we balance each other out zayne" you say happily , "I'm so happy this theory applies on us" you say reaching out to pinch his cheek lightly , "well I'm not sure of the validity of this theory you're talking about" , "but I'm 100% sure that we're soulmates" he gives you that warm smile that you adore , you look down trying to hide that fact that you're blushing "yes we are" .

Rafayel

it was a quiet friday night , when you decided you'd make your way to rafayel's house with a pizza .

the sound of the doorbell echoed through house , cutting through the silence.

"heyy cutiee" rafayel reaches to hug you tightly at the door , "what's the special occasion?" he says stepping aside , giving you space to get inside , "does it have to be a special occasion for me visit my boyfriend? " you said settling on his white couch , "since we both have the day off tomorrow , I figured I'd come and spoil you with some pizza" .

"well aren't you the best girlfriend ever?" he said sitting beside eager to open the pizza box ,but as soon as he did , you gasp "no wayyy" you say in annoyance , "what?what?" he asks confused , "look at these goddamn olives"you give a disgusted face while picking up one of the olives , rafayel chuckles "cutie you know you can always give them to me and I'll eat them" , you sigh and lean back "yeah we're the perfect example of the olive theory I guess" , "excuse me?" he asks looking at you , you look at him back "the olive theory my love , the olive theory" , rafayel still giving you that confused and lost look , "it's when your partner likes olive and the other doesn't , so the one who does will eat the olives for them , and it shows that we're soulmates" you say trying to explain it in the best way possible , "ok I understand but how does that makes us soulmates again my love?" , "because if I don't have you , I will have nobody to dump my olives on" you say smiling and holding his face with your two hands "which means we complete eachother" , rafayel smiles and grabs one of your hands to place it near his mouth and give it a kiss , "I seem to really like this theory you should've mentioned it earlier" he kisses you again "although... , I knew from the moment I talked to you that we're a perfect match" he winks.

Sylus

you were lounging on the couch next to sylus ,and he was seated with a glass of wine in hand sipping and savoring it's taste , meanwhile you helped yourself with pack of gummy bears , sorting them through their colors , green , red , yellow and then ..orange , put aside.

sylus noticed the different treatment you were giving the poor orange gummies ,he took another sip of his wine watching you before finally commenting , "you've been avoiding those little orange gummy bears all night" he remarked , his tone teasing but curious "what's wrong with them?"

you wrinkled your nose slightly "ughh I hate those orange flavored ones" you explained "I don't like how they taste ...they're weird" .

sylus chuckles at your expression leaning in to pick up one of them "so you're just gonna leave them behind huh?" "what a waste" , you offer him all the orange ones desperately "here you can have them and I'll be grateful" , sylus smiles and accept them from you .

he chewed on one of them "mmm not bad ....I'd say they're my favorite actually"

"really??I'm gladdd" you sighed in relief knowing that you don't have to throw any of them anymore , a sudden realization hit you and you gasp dramatically "sylus do you know that now the olive theory applies to us??" you say with a wide happy smile , "from the show 'how I met your mother' ?" he asks familiar with the term , "yesss , we're basically soulmates , since you'll be eating the orange gummies for me from now on" , sylus laughs , his rich deep laugh echoing through the living room , he leans in and tucks a stray of hair behind your ear "you're ridiculous..you know that?" , "heyyyy" you pout offended "you should feel special not anyone gets to be my gummy bear soulmate" you say crossing your arms at him still pouting , he chuckles again shaking his head as he wrappes his arm around you pulling you closer , "my love you'll be my soulmate with a gummy bear or without it" he plants a kiss on your forehead "but I gotta admit ...having the title of the the gummy bear soulmate is quite nice".

[trivia-yandere]

payment plan 2

“how long do we have?” part one

@investedreader @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @momnomnom @bangtans-momma @chimmy-licious @princess-sunshyn @

word count: 3.707 warning: smut, affair/cheating, dirty talking, jin is conniving and sneaky, but he's also kind when he wants to be, car sex, kissing, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, licking, face-slapping

kinktober masterlist - early release :3

“No.” Jin scoffs, not raising his eyes to look at his elder brother. “You know we’ve been extra busy. We have deadlines coming up.”

“I've never asked for a day off.” his brother responds with a frustrated sigh. “I already missed our anniversary.”

Jin halts his writing, slowly lifting his eyes to his brother. He sits in his office, the quiet scenery was something he always enjoyed on the days he was supposed to be at work. However, his brother has ruined that for him once more - this time infiltrating his office demanding requests. 

“You didn’t miss your anniversary, brother. You forgot it.” Jin scoffs, tossing his pen aside and leans back into his office chair. “There’s a difference.”

“You overwork me and I barely have time to eat or sleep.” his brother grits through his teeth. “I never forgotten before-”

“But yet you have.” Jin waves his brother off. “And I don’t like your tone, either, brother. Have you forgotten just who you’re speaking with?”

Jin would never allow him to forget. For months he had allowed his brother to overwork him to the bone to pay off his debts. He appreciated his brother for allowing him and you to stay with him, allowed him to drive his cars and allowed him to have the highest paid job his company offered. Only it was such a high demanding job, as well, that required him at all hours of the day for weeks on end.

On his off days, he was far too tired. He recalls the times he and you would spend together - the dates he would take you on. Even if they were simple dates such as movies or walks in the park, to the restaurants and expensive vacations. He missed you - his wife - who could barely manage to look at him most times.

He could never blame you and he is positive that you’re growing to despise him. He had no time for you and it was entirely his fault. He had gone bankrupt and completely broke. It was his wrongdoings that caused him to lose his job, the house, car - everything. It was embarrassing to bring his wife into another man's home, even if it was his brother.

With the amount of work he busied himself with, he realized that he’s come to neglect you and your needs. You and he no longer slept in the same bed. He cannot remember when he had a home-cooked meal from you that was hot instead of warmed up after a long day. 

“No, brother.” he murmurs, defeated. “I…I just don’t want to lose my wife.”

Jin wants to laugh, to cackle in the face of his older brother. Of course he didn’t want to lose you, but he has already.  You were left alone the majority of your time and that only meant that you had more time for him - the brother that didn’t leave you broke and bankrupt. Over time, you’ve grown to enjoy your time together. He would say it began after Valentine’s Day after your time with him. He had spent thousands to assure you had the gifts he felt you deserve - the gifts his brother couldn’t take time off to give you. 

“She’s still there, isn’t she?” Jin questions. “After you’ve gone bankrupt?”

Jin watches the way his brother faces drops, biting the inside of his cheek. He cracks a smug grin and nods his head. “She is, brother. She isn’t going anywhere.”

Jin crosses his arms and tilts his head. “Besides, her birthday must’ve not been that important to you.”

“Of course it does!”

“If that was so, you would’ve requested the weekend off instead of trying to do it the day before.” Jin raises one brow and he wants to scoff, but he doesn’t want to appear too harsh to his brother. “You’re a last minute person, brother. Have you forgotten that you were needed in the meeting at our partner company?”

It was intentional, of course. He knew his brother would be too caught up in work that he would forget your birthday until the last minute. He understood that it would take his brother far too long to realize just what he was going to do, and by then he had since already planned for his brother to be away for the entire day.

Without you.

“You have hundreds of staff that-”

“You,” Jin roughly slams his hand onto his desk. Several items scattered across his desk bounces but it causes his brother to fall silent. “are who I pay to go to these meetings, brother. You get paid handsomely for the amount of work I give you.”

He remains silent, his eyes blinking away from his younger brother and slowly he nods. There was no arguing with Jin - he was the man who signed his checks at the end of it all. He understands that what his brother says is true - he should have requested the necessary days off, but he also wished that he could get a little weight cut off his shoulders. 

“Anything else?” Jin sighs. “I have to get through this paperwork by the end of the night, brother. Your ticket is bought."

Witnessing his brother shake his head sullenly, Jin nods. “Good. The meeting starts in…” Jin checks his watch. “In about an hour. You should get going, brother.”

He doesn’t say anything else and instead makes his way out of the office. Jin could only scoff at how pathetic his brother was. To be the eldest but yet always depend on his younger brother. 

Jin had tried to warn you countless times that his brother was not the one for you - that he couldn’t provide for you; especially since technically he was. He had missed Valentine’s day, your anniversary and now your birthday.

Sure, it was Jin’s doing by scheduling him to work extra on certain days, but if he truly desired to be with you, nothing would stop him , right?

Right.

Jin taps his foot against the ground, his mind thinking back to just how long he could have you to himself if he ever decide to send his brother on a weekend work trip. He could wake up to you without you worrying about if your husband would come to your bedroom to look for you. He could hold you closer at night and inhale your sweet aroma; your favorite perfume you’d douse yourself with. He would get to wake up to you after a long night of fucking you into submission.

“You look beautiful.”

Your eyes flicker up from your drink to Kim Seokjin. Your lips turn to a low smile at his compliment.

“You look sad.” Jin takes a sip of his wine and raises his brow. “Why is that? Is my restaurant not enough?”

You roll your eyes. 

You were disappointed - but never surprised - when you realized your husband would be missing your birthday this year. You’ve come to celebrate most things without him, but you were never truly alone.

Seokjin always made sure to accompany you and after a while, your fear for him slowly lessened. You would joke around with him just as much as he would you. You enjoyed his company even if it was outside of sex. 

Sure, you still felt terrible after it all. You were cheating on your husband, but he didn’t make it any better. Him never being around was what made it easier - but you could blame Jin for that as your husband wasn’t the one who set his own hours. 

“Of course it’s enough.” you respond. “It’s a five star restaurant that you closed tonight just for my birthday.”

This is a restaurant you could never afford to go to alone as of late. One of the many businesses Jin owned, this restaurant was a spot that was always littered with wealthy individuals and it was difficult to find a table without a reservation. You could only imagine the money lost by being closed earlier than usual.

“Your birthday is a special day that deserves to be celebrated.”

“At least one of the Kim brothers agrees.”

You take a deep breath. You shouldn’t be angered with your husband - not now. Remember that it isn’t his fault; not completely. At the end of the day, you were just as bad as him. You know what Jin wants from you - the same thing that you were giving to him willingly.

“Thank you, Jin.”

Your eyes connect with Jin’s as you take a sip of your wine. You and he were alone in the restaurant, him having sent everyone home. The meal was cooked by him entirely, an act you had laughed at when he told you. “We could’ve stayed home if that was the case” was your response to him. However, the act warmed your heart.

“Thank you for joining me.” Jin sets his wine glass down and picks up his chopsticks to eat. “It doesn’t look like I dragged you here tonight.”

You snicker. “You’re funny.” you murmur. It’s true, however, that you don’t appear to be as frightened as before. You were walking on eggshells and allowing Seokjin to do whatever he desired because of how frightened you were of being kicked out. 

Now, however, it’s evident that Seokjin had no true intentions of letting you go. It’s an adrenaline rush for him to do what he does with you behind closed doors; an ego boost, as well.

You continue to drink the expensive wine, enjoying the moment of serenity. The music is low, but it’s nice. You hum along to it, nodding your head a bit as you continue to revel in the experience.

 “Do you….do you want to dance?”

Your eyes flutter open at Jin’s question, realizing that your food and his is already eaten and you’re slightly buzzed due to all the wine. He has an amused look on his face as he watches you. 

“Dance?” you snort. “You dance?”

“You couldn’t see me on the dancefloor, Y/N.” Jin jokes. “You’re drinking yourself tipsy as we speak. We’re the only ones here…”

Jin’s chair squeaks as he pushes himself back from the table and lifts himself up. He holds out his hand for you to take. You’re truly skeptical of dancing with him, even if it was something juvenile. Or maybe it’s because it felt more intimate; more than just two terrible humans being in an affair.

Jin licks his lips at the way your eyes look up at him. They’re clouded thanks to the wine, but they’re staring right through him the way they always do. 

“You better not let me fall in these heels.” you mumble, taking his hand in your own and allowing him to help you up.

Jin only chuckles at your words. He doesn’t take you far from the table until he’s holding you close. The music isn’t upbeat for you two to dance faster than you are, but even if it was it’s a different world you and he are in. 

“To the untrained eye…” you look up towards Jin and scoff. “...someone might think you’re in love.”

You’re only teasing him. You’re positive that Jin does have a sort of love for you - in a ‘I’m fucking my sister-in-law’ way - that you have for him. He does allow you to live for free in his home and drive his cars. The gifts he buys you are expensive just as they are unexpected. 

“Oh?” Jin raises a brow. “What would make people think Kim Seokjin was in love?”

Jin grasps both of your hands as he hears the music change to a song that's more upbeat. He begins to raise your arms up to dance along with him, to wave them from side to side. 

“I never seen Kim Seokjin dance before.” you catch yourself laughing at how idiotic you two possibly look. “Or have any type of fun.”

“Ah,” Jin’s eyes widened a bit. “you make me sound like an old, grumpy man that has no fun.”

You don’t respond - it’s all the response you need.

You weren’t accustomed to this Jin - the carefree man who’s laughing as the two of you dance around the empty restaurant, spinning and twirling. It’s a new sight from the usual reserved and, oftentimes, cold individual he usually is. 

It’s a refreshing sight to behold, truly. It made Jin more human, you think. Sure, you were no longer afraid of the man, but witnessing him smiling and laughing is still a breath of fresh air.

Suddenly, Jin turns you around so that his chest is against your back. 

“Do you like gardening?” Jin asks. 

“What do you mean?” you ask. You swallow, once again the music changes to a more calm tempo. “That’s a random question.”

“You usually tend to garden.” Jin states. “You’ve been planting flowers all around. You’ve even added a few inside the home.”

You nod slowly. You lean your head back to lean against him. “I do like gardening. It keeps me occupied.” you then shrug. “Is that a problem? You and your brother tend to have allergies.”

It’s true. Jin finds himself sneezing a bit more due to all the pollen inside the home, yet he doesn’t complain. He’s decided that taking allergy medication was best seeing as content you appeared to be when you watered the plants inside the home. “If it was a problem I would’ve gotten rid of them.”

You roll your eyes. 

“I do think someone like you should have a greenhouse.” Jin sits his chin on top of your head. “I have ordered one to be placed in tomorrow. Think of it as…a birthday gift.”

You turn around to face him quickly - so quick that it almost gives you motion sickness. 

“Well…say thank you.” Jin is taken aback by your reaction; or lack of one. “Are you alright?”

“You…are getting me a greenhouse?” you murmur, trying to understand him fully. “All because I like gardening?”

Jin blinks. 

“Yes?” Jin is unsure if that was the right decision or not. “It’s something you’d like to do, is it not? It’s large enough for you to grow more than just flowers-”

Jin is interrupted by the loud sound of a ringtone. He turns his eyes to where your phone is sitting on the table. You and he aren’t too far from him to witness the name on your phone. 

“Your husband’s calling.”

Jin wants to tell you to not answer it - that if you didn’t, it wouldn’t raise alarms - but he doesn’t.

“R…Right.” you click your tongue and move yourself from Jin. You grasp your ringing phone and for a moment contemplate actually sending it to voicemail.  “Yes?” you answer the phone, not an ounce of emotion in your tone.

“Baby. Hey.” your husband sounds apologetic. “I know you’re mad at me for missing your birthday but I managed to get out of the meeting on time.”

Jin is directly behind you as he hears his brother speak and he scoffs to himself. 

“Did you?” you swallow. 

“Yes. I know you’ve been wanting to try that new restaurant.” your husband speaks on the other end. “I’ve made a reservation for later tonight. I should be back in another hour.”

Jin understands that he technically couldn’t be upset with his brother for having luck on his side. He couldn’t be upset that his brother was trying to spend time with his wife on her birthday.

However, Jin was upset. He was pissed that his brother was ruining the moment you and he were having, no matter if he had the right to be or not.

“I can’t wait.” you murmur, clenching your phone tight in your hand. “See you then.”

Just as you hang up your phone, you can feel Jin directly behind you. His hand snakes around your waist, pressing you against him. 

“How long do we have?” Jin murmurs against your ear; a low tone that causes goosebumps to ride up your skin.

It happens entirely too fast. Jin dragged you to his car. It isn’t ideal for him, but he didn’t have enough time like he intended. 

You don’t care either way, finding that even you were craving Jin at this moment and not a minute later. Your lips crash along with his tongue dancing along with one another. It’s hot and wet, just like this moment you and he were sharing. 

“No time for foreplay this time.” you say between rushed kisses, your hands going to tug at his belt. 

“You know foreplay is my favorite.” Jin sighs in protest. 

“We only have a little under an hour, Jin.” you shake your head. 

“Fine.” Jin grumbles. “One condition is all I ask from you.”

Jin’s hands are sliding beneath your dress, embracing the smoothness of your skin. He shudders with a groan. His slender fingers find your panties and he proceeds to push them aside. “I’m gonna cum in you.” Jin murmurs. “I want you to keep my cum in you while you’re with your husband.”

Your hand is tugging at his cock, a need to have it inside of you. 

“Speak.” Jin demands.

“Yes.” you nod your head in agreement. “I will.”

“Good.”

It’s easy when you’re already wet. Jin always did this to you when he spoke with a certain tone of voice along with the correct authority. 

You center Jin at your entrance, slowly allowing him inside of you. Both of his hands are atop of your hands and he licks his plump lips as you sit on top of him fully. 

“Shit…” you and Jin say in unison and at any given moment you’d laugh about it; but there was no time now. 

Your hands place themselves onto his shoulders, fingers gently digging into his shirt and you begin to buckle your hips.

Jin wants to feel more of you. He’s accustomed to having you naked in the comfort of his bedroom, not rushed in a cramp car. He supposed beggars can't be choosers.

Jin’s hand squeezes your hips encouragingly, his eyes fixed on the way his cock disappears inside your pussy with each bounce you do on top of him. He’s panting, probably going to regret not turning on the car for some air first - but fuck it. 

“Ah…” Jin’s eyes turn to your face. Your head is leaned back slightly as you continue to fuck yourself, mouth slightly agape. “...to the untrained eye someone might think you’re in love. Especially the way you’re fucking yourself.”

Jin doesn’t allow you to respond. Instead, his hands go to grip your neck roughly to force you to look at him. He begins to thrust upward, meeting your hips halfway and allowing his cock to plunge deeper inside of you. 

You hiss at the newfound pleasure, your eyebrows knitting together to focus. You lick your lips once Jin’s words register in your mind and the way he throws your teasing back at you. 

“It makes you feel dirty doesn’t it?” Jin continues, his lips pecking your neck. “Fucking your brother-in-law in the backseat of his car. Anyone could just come by and see us.”

Your pussy clenches at Jin’s words. It does make you feel dirty - adrenaline boosting. You haven’t felt anything like it before with your husband in years. But the idea of being caught was always such a rush, especially with the person you’d be caught with.

“I think you love doing this with me, huh?”

You nod your head, biting your lip. The car is full of pants and aggressive skin slapping. 

“You love it, too.” you moan, allowing Jin to take over completely. Your right hand grips his shoulders for support. “That’s why you keep coming back for more.”

Jin groans, the grip on your neck only tightening. He’s appreciative of your words and the way you were only growing more comfortable with this affair; he would be honest and say what it was instead of sugar coating it. 

“It’s not like my brother’s fucking you.” Jin grunts. “It’s a shame you’re on birth control, Y/N. It’d be funny to see you pregnant with my child and have to explain to your husband who fucked it into you.”

You clench your eyes shut, juices leaking onto Seokjin’s cock by the second. 

“My idiot brother wouldn’t suspect a thing. He wouldn’t know it’s mine. Wouldn’t that be funny, Y/N?”

Jin couldn’t tell you the issues he had with his own brother - at least he couldn’t face them aloud to himself. A therapist would tell him that he was jealous of his brother. That even if Kim Seokjin had it all - fortune, notoriety and fame, he didn’t have you. He didn’t have a wife like his idiot older brother; a wife that stayed regardless of his financial situation - even if said wife was with him tonight.

You yelp upon feeling a slap onto your cheek. It stings, sure, but it’s the sting that causes you to cum. 

“Yes, sir.” you gasp, knowing full well what Jin wanted to hear.

Jin grunts, eyes dark and clouded with lust and adoration for you. He embraces you with both arms and begins to thrust sloppily, fully intended on cumming inside of you. He couldn’t have you all to himself - yet - but he could still have you in ways that his brother wouldn’t know about. 

“Gonna cum so deep in you.” Jin hisses. “Mark you as my own. I want you to sit there with your husband with my cum in you.”

Jin cums hard, his legs twitching. You fall against the back of the passenger seat for support, panting to yourself.

Jin doesn’t remove himself from you until he’s softening. His head sits against the back seat as he attempts to catch his breath. 

“We have 20 minutes to get home.” you murmur, wishing you’d told your husband to raincheck as you were growing sleepy. 

You fix yourself, placing your panties back to where they belong. You can feel his cum daring to be released, staining your panties in the process. 

Just as you were going to remove yourself from atop of him, Jin grasps your wrist. 

“Jin-”

“Happy birthday.” Jin murmurs, his eyes fluttering open. 

Your eyes soften, nodding slowly. “Thank you…” you respond lowly.