#copious amounts of caffeine and sugar

[pergaminaa]

Something something Modern AU:

Dorian is hanging out with Sorrel, Asterin and Vesta and Asterin recalls the time she Manon and Vesta bought a giant bag of ground coffee and they kept brewing coffee every 1-2 hours to get them though a long day.

Sorrel was there but she didn’t participate in the madness. She said how “they kept drinking that coffee as if it was damned water” and “they were all jittery as fuck” because Asterin and Vesta are a bad influence on Manon because she didn’t stop them and partook in that insanity.

[aliteraryprincess]

Chapter three of the dissertation is done!!!

Dr. Pepper and Smarties are getting a shoutout in my acknowledgements because they are the only damn things getting me through this.

[wandasaura]

LOVELORN AND NOBODY KNOWS

summary — your relationship with natasha is not as black and white as it seems, but you’re in no rush to figure out the logistics of it. when she leaves for a business trip, wanda is your only source of comfort, but you hate her… right?

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, dom/sub dynamics, playful banter between three idiots, somnophilia, edging, praise, begging, teasing, oral, fingering, semi-clothed sex, finger sucking, bratty reader, a fuck ton of domestic shenanigans, copious amounts of fluff, essentially hurt/comfort, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, mommy wanda 101, so much softness, men/minors dni

authors note — this is actually such a wild ride, and i shamelessly got the slightest bit carried away, but hey, we’re making progress in the wanda x reader department!

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

You saw Natasha at least three times a week, she made sure of it when she could. Sometimes, you were lucky enough to see her every day in some capacity, other times her business kept you apart for an entire week if not longer. Your favorite days were the ones where she’d stop by your dorm room for a quick lunch break. She’d bring your favorite meal and a bouquet of vibrant flowers, and it gave you a taste of what an authentic relationship with her would look like. You never forgot about Wanda. Never forgot that she was already married and had her wife’s explicit permission to be seeing you, but it was nice to pretend anyway. It probably wasn’t the best idea to have a crush on your employer, even if your arrangement was anything but practical, but even still, you should not be crushing hard on the woman who pays you for a fuck. 

You’d seen Natasha four times this week and it was only Wednesday. She’d stopped by your dorm room for lunch on Monday afternoon, holding onto a takeout bag from your favorite Italian restaurant, a bouquet of wildflowers neatly arranged in a tall and elegant vase, and one of her old Avengers University hoodies that had been meticulously sprayed down with her expensive perfume. On Tuesday, you ran into her at your favorite coffee shop where she subsequently stopped you from ordering a triple shot espresso in exchange for an ice water. You’d wanted to be mad, wanted to tell her that you were a big girl and you needed the extra caffeine to survive the long day of studying ahead, but when you’d even thought about challenging her, one look into her green eyes had you melting into the submissive partner she expected you to be. Sometimes you hated how easily she could break your strength without even trying, but you knew that was the biggest lie you've ever told yourself. You adore the control she has over you, you allow her to have that control, but sometimes you just wanted her to remind you of that. She did later that evening when you’d gone to the Maximoff’s residence for dinner. On Wednesday morning, you woke up with a soft ache between your thighs and the remnants of her touch in the form of scattered bruising across your chest. 

Every Wednesday night since you’d signed the contract to be Natasha Maximoff’s sugar baby, you had gone over to the Maximoff residence for a movie night and pizza. There was never a promise of anything sexual happening, but sometimes you just couldn’t help yourself and Natasha would fuck you right there on the couch if you asked nice enough. Wanda wasn’t always a participant in your film marathons. She worked in the office a significant amount more than Natasha did, claiming she liked the fast paced environment more than the peaceful quiet of the house, and her late hours kept her away from you most Wednesday nights. For that you were beyond grateful, but you didn’t always get so lucky. 

Tonight was one of those nights where Wanda had retired from the office earlier than usual, and was already on the couch with a half finished glass of wine before you’d even shown up at seven. The key you kept on your lanyard was practically useless on Wednesdays. If the door wasn’t already unlocked prior to your arrival, Natasha was sprinting to open it before you could even attempt to do it yourself. The gesture made you blush a ferocious shade of red each time, and you wondered if she sat by the window and watched you drive up just so she could fluster you, but you’d never get that answer out of her no matter how prettily you begged. Some secrets were kept tightly underwraps, even if they were merely forged in amusement. You’ve come to learn that Natasha Maximoff loves secrets, even if they made both yours and Wanda’s skin crawl. 

“How were classes, milyy?” Natasha asked sweetly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips in the doorway of the house, not yet letting you enter fully. The warmer days of Spring had finally settled over top of the small New Jersey shore town she and Wanda lived within, and the lick of heat that encased your body was particularly pleasant tonight. Dressed in only a pair of soft pajama shorts and her recently gifted hoodie, you didn’t mind standing outside for as long as she wanted, the moonlight reflecting off of her eyes created its own endless galaxy that you had the pleasure of getting lost in. You’d hate to shuffle inside and lose sight of it. 

“Tiring.” You hummed, leaning into her gentle touch when her calloused palms reached out to cup your cheeks. Your answer sets the mood for the evening even without meaning to, but you don’t mind what you’re getting yourself into. Natasha is always particularly attentive and soft with you if you tell her that you’ve had a long day, and secretly, you’ve been anticipating her coddling since your second lecture that afternoon. “It’s almost done, I just keep telling myself that.” 

“And then you’re mine for an entire summer. Think you can manage six more weeks before I steal you away?” She asked softly, already having a plethora of ideas for how she’d ask you to spend your break. You practically lived at the Maximoff residence during the semester, she couldn’t imagine three full months of your undivided attention and company. It was sure to be bliss. 

“Or I can drop out and we can start early.” You suggested, though it was merely a fabrication of your need for calm rather than any actual intentions of dropping out. You adored your academics, as demanding as they were, you were just reaching a critical episode of burnout. “Never let me overload again. I think my cerebrum is malfunctioning.” 

“That’s a big word for such a little girl.” Wanda’s voice quipped from deeper into the house, a playful edge to her tone but you were in no mood for jokes, especially not from her. You scowled with the knowledge that you wouldn’t even get a handful of hours alone with Natasha now, whining pitifully into the chest of your dominant. Sometimes you wished you could call her more than that, but you’d settle for anything if it meant calling her yours. 

“Be nice, she’s just teasing.” Natasha rewarded you with a gentle kiss, her cold fingers tilting your chin upward until she had your lips perfectly available. You tasted like coffee, and her brows furrowed at the realization that not long ago, probably not even a full half hour ago, you’d consumed caffeine. She always worried about you getting enough sleep at night, and the repercussions of caffeine on days when your anxiety was particularly brutal, but you never listened to her. “How many coffee’s have you had today, milyy?” 

“Please don’t punish me.” You sighed in regret, melting against her chest and forcing her arms to wrap around your waist and support the majority of your weight, the front door still open and allowing the valued cold air that Wanda paid a pretty penny for to slip out into the streets of Westview. “I just needed something to get me through class, and I didn’t want to fall asleep on you ten minutes into a movie so I stopped on the way here. I didn’t even finish it, promise, it’s still half-full in the car. You’re leaving tomorrow. I just wanted to see you.” 

Your nervous rambling was enough to indicate that your head was swimming in thoughts that made no real sense. Truthfully you knew that Natasha wouldn’t punish you for your caffeine intake. She’d be worried, she’d make you drink enough water to refill the ocean if it somehow managed to evaporate, but she wouldn’t punish you. Her consideration for your wellbeing did not warrant a physical punishment for choices you made as a grown adult, even if they concerned her. 

“Is that what this is about?” Natasha quizzed, looking down at you with a fondness in her eyes that made your cheeks flush a shade of pink only she had ever been able to create. When you nodded sadly, still not willing to let go of her waist, the lawyer huffed out a mixture of laughter that was somehow both saddened and amused. “It’s only two weeks, milyy. Fourteen days. How many hours is that?” She asked softly, knowing that you knew the answer. When you had first learned of her inescapable business trip to the Bahamas, which honestly sounded more like a dream than an obligation, you’d gone on a rampage. You’d listed off the number of days and hours and seconds that you’d be apart. You’d pleaded with her not to leave you for so long, and as embarrassed as you felt once you’d sobered up from your state of panic, the fact still remained that you were dreading the time apart. Yeah, Natasha was definitely more than just your contractual dominant, but neither one of you had braved a conversation regarding what the true extent of your relationship was. 

“Three hundred and thirty six. That’s over twenty thousand minutes, Natty.” You whispered into her chest so softly that the howling wind almost drowned you out, but still Natasha heard you and tightened her hold around your midsection, not caring about how warm the house became as a result of the still open front door. She’d melt into a puddle if it meant easing your mind, and Wanda, despite her tendency to poke fun at you, didn’t mind either. 

“You’ll be okay. I have a surprise for you, but I think we need to get some food into this belly and some water into you before we do any of that.” Natasha smoothed the wild flyaways away from your face, cradling your cheeks sweetly and tenderly, almost as if she was afraid if she touched you too hard you’d crumble on her front porch. 

At the mention of a surprise, your attention peaked, and you tried to peer around her body for any indication of what it was that she had. “Now?” You tried to convince her, a lively spark coming back to your eyes. You always loved her surprises. They weren’t all material, and the ones that were didn’t always make your bank account hurt at the mere thought of how much she’d spent on you. Sometimes a surprise meant that she’d take you out for a walk and bring you to her favorite bench by the shore, sometimes it meant she’d found little canvases to paint and had set up a makeshift studio in her office. Sometimes it meant that she had new toys to test and outfits to wear. You never knew what she had up her sleeve, but you adored her efforts nonetheless. 

Natasha laughed at your eagerness, glad that you had come back to yourself if only for a couple of minutes, but shook her head to decline your temptations. “Not now. Come on, inside, baby.” She guided you further into the house, finally closing the heavy front door when you were far enough inside to not be nicked by the latch. She’d made the mistake once, and you hadn’t let her forget about it since. She was so excited about your company that she’d more or less attempted to close the front door on your body, and while she’d apologized profusely, you’d just taken the bait and been able to call her the impatient one for once. 

“Hi Wanda.” You mumbled out pleasantries, knowing that it would make Natasha happy even if you just wanted to ignore the other CEO in the room. The woman was curled up into the corner of the couch, far away from the spot you and Natasha typically occupied during movie nights. Briefly you wondered if she’d done it on purpose, or if that was just the spot she liked to sit in. 

“Hi, darling.” She returned the greeting, though it was significantly warmer than yours. Natasha praised you for your efforts either way, running her cold hands up and down your thighs as she came to stand directly behind you, her chin resting on the crown of your head in the way you despised when anyone else tried to do that same. She was only two or so inches taller than you, but she made up for it in dominance, and it was no help that you shrunk in on yourself whenever she was around. 

“Go sit with Wanda, baby. I’ll bring you out some pizza.” Natasha left a kiss on the side of your head before she pulled away from you entirely and gave you an encouraging shove toward the couch. You pouted not only because of her asking you to keep Wanda company, but because the last thing you wanted was to leave her company after just entering it. 

Wanda laughed at your expression, patting the soft silk cushions of the couch invitingly. You adored their couch. You had made it known on multiple occasions when you all but refused to move into a bed at the end of the night, but something about being left alone with Wanda made even the softest seat feel daunting and scary. “I don’t bite, detka.” Wanda laughed, watching you pleadingly stare at Natasha who promptly ignored the burn of your eyes on her back as she disappeared into the kitchen. Her auburn hair looked like pure fire as she slipped into the brighter lit room, the overhead lights casting spells on her appearance. “She’ll be right back, there’s no need to pout.” 

You huffed at Wanda’s unwillingness to appease your sadness, but shuffled on your feet until you were close enough to the couch to plop down in the way she hated. The cushion sank beneath your weight and the back of the couch welcomed your presence without any additional need to wiggle around and get comfortable, and as much as it felt like a warm hug, your skin crawled being so close to Wanda without Natasha around to mediate. 

“Don’t be a brat, darling. It’s only for a couple of minutes.” Wanda’s scold wasn’t necessarily cold, but it was still laced with dominance that you couldn’t ignore. You huffed, pouting deeper, grabbing fistfulls of the hoodie’s sleeves and holding them over your trembling fingers. Wanda’s reserve melted as she picked up the subtle tells of anxiety, and that indistinguishable gleam reappeared in her eyes that were green like Natasha’s but so so different and unique. “You still have all of tonight. There’s no need for the tears right now, angel. Tomorrow, you can cry all you want, but enjoy what you have in the moment. Can you do that, detka?” 

“I don’t want her to leave.” You mumbled, nervously bringing the cuff of Natasha’s sleeve up to your mouth and chewing on it. Wanda had seen Natasha reprimand you for the action, she herself had reprimanded you for the action, but you looked far too nervous to scold right now, so she let you be. You didn’t know what had come over you. Never would you admit such silly feelings to Wanda, but you figured she would understand your thoughts. Natasha was nothing to you but a piece of paper, even if you didn’t believe that it was still the truth, but Wanda was her wife, and she had every reason to hate this trip more than you did. 

Not making a sarcastic remark like you’d half-expected her to, Wanda merely shrugged sadly and took another long sip of her red. You hated red wine, but the lawyer beside you found it particularly comforting for reasons you’d never asked about. “I don’t want her to go either, but she has to. A long time ago we stopped getting upset about what’s best for our business. It doesn’t do either of us any good if we work ourselves up about the inevitable. She’s come back before, hasn’t she?” 

“Yeah, but– but she’s never been gone this long, and– and, I don’t know.” You shrugged, your words practically incoherent with the thick material still between your teeth, but Wanda had understood you perfectly. 

“I think you do know, but you don’t want to tell me, and that’s okay. It’s okay to need her, malysh. She does a lot for you, yes? More than just providing orgasms like you’d thought you’d be getting into.” There was a hint of a teasing in Wanda’s tone, and her words caused a blush to spread across your cheeks at the implication of her knowing about your most intimate moments. Of course she knew. She’d seen you cum on Natasha’s strap and her fingers, on her thigh and on her tongue, in her bed and on her couch and her dining room table, but still you found ways to be shy about the topic after nearly a year. 

“Shut up.” You mumbled through your mortification, wanting desperately to hide your face and scrub this conversation from your memory. Your cerebrum may be failing in an intellectual sense, but it was working just fine now and you hated to admit that talking about orgasms with Wanda made you needy. 

Wanda laughed at your embarrassment, setting her wine glass down on the coffee table in front of her, her ringed fingers sparkling in the dim lighting of the room. The diamonds on her left hand were particularly blinding, and once again you remembered what you were to them and what Natasha wasn’t to you. 

“Natasha is just as upset about leaving you. She knows this is a stressful time, or did you forget we both went through eight years of law school?” Wanda quirked a perfectly sculpted brow in your direction, her green stare unwavering, and honestly, you had forgotten that they’d been in your shoes once, even if it was years ago now. Your silence was enough of an answer for Wanda whose lips curled upward into her signature smirk of amusement. “I think you’ll like the surprise.”

“You know what it is?” Your head whipped in her direction, and no longer did you avoid looking into her eyes. Your excitement was back, and desperately you bounced on the couch and pulled the sleeve away from your mouth. “What is it?” 

“What kind of secret would it be if I gave it up so easily? You should know better than that, little one.” Wanda laughed, curling her legs further beneath her as she readjusted on the couch, not missing your immediate pout at her unwillingness to even give you a hint. “You will find out soon.”

“I wanna find out now.” You huffed, throwing yourself back into the couch and crossing your arms over your chest. You wouldn’t beg with Wanda, no you still had enough self control to restrain from stopping to such low levels, but maybe you could work Natasha and get her to cave before she made you sit through an entire movie still not knowing. 

“Are you still pouting about the surprise?” The voice of your dominant hadn’t been expected, and you lurched forward on the couch in a desperate attempt to please her. Both women laughed at your stick-straight posture and firmly planted feet, but only one of them leaned forward to kiss your head and for that you were grateful. 

“Yes!” You huffed, throwing your arms out toward your sides in exasperation, narrowly avoiding hitting Natasha in the face as she leaned down to place three plates of pizza on the coffee table. You’d never understand how she could balance so many things at once, but when you’d asked once, she’d just laughed and told you she was a skilled spy in another life. “Please, Natty? I want to know! Wanda knows! You know! I’m the only one who doesn’t know!”

“That’s because A, Wanda lives here, and B, the surprise is for you. Do I need to remind you of the definition of a surprise, or is your brain working enough to remind yourself.” She taunted, not yet moving to sit down on the couch and collect you into her embrace, and it was then you realized that she still needed to go and collect the waters from the kitchen. “Eat. If half of that slice is gone by time I get back, maybe I’ll throw you a bone.” 

Wanda laughed at your deep frown, but she made no other comments that would’ve gotten you into hot water with Natasha when you inevitably quipped back at her. You aggressively grabbed the slice from the plate, biting off more than you could comfortably chew just as a means of expressing your annoyance. 

“Somebody’s fussy.” Natasha merely commented, and you sighed knowing she was right. She was always right, but it never made the pill any easier to swallow when she called you out. “How much sleep did you get last night?” She quizzed, and once again it felt like you were under interrogation as she looked up into her eyes and simultaneously felt Wanda’s gaze on the back of your head. 

“How many hours will you consider a reasonable amount?” You tried to wiggle your way out of trouble, but Natasha was unwilling to budge as she placed her hands on her hips. “Two.” You eventually admitted. “And I had four coffees. I never answered that question. But it wasn’t my fault, honest, Natty!” 

“And how would that not be your fault?” Natasha played your game, even if she so desperately wanted to march your ass up the stairs and make you go to bed right then and there. 

“I had to cover for my group partners for a stupid project that’s literally worth half of our grade! I don’t know how those fucking idiots have even made it this far without being kicked out. I’ve been reaching out to them all semester, but I couldn’t wait to finish it any more. It’s due next week and every time I emailed the professor she just told me to wait a little longer because I still had time before it was due. I left them parts to do so that they could get some credit at least, that was a fucking mistake.” You seethed, your jaw locked as you recounted the events of last night that had definitely ended with you crying yourself to sleep out of sheer frustration. 

“Detka.” Surprisingly, it was Wanda’s voice that called out to you, and you turned to face her with unbridled tears in your eyes. “You are not responsible for the academics of others who do not wish to put in the same amount of effort as you. It was very nice that you tried to save their asses, but if I hear that you sacrificed your own wellbeing again, you will have to deal with me. Not Natasha, and not your professors. Is that understood?” 

You knew that Wanda could punish you if she really wanted to. Natasha had made that clear when you’d been filling out the contract. As much as you were only her submissive, you’d agreed to her proposition of letting Wanda deal with you if she saw fit, and clearly, this was an instance where both of them agreed because Natasha didn’t offer a single defense in your favor. Wanda had never threatened to punish you, not seriously at least, it was more or less just banter between two dominants who sought out different things in a submissive, but now she was beyond serious and your cheeks flushed at the scolding. Your typical snarky response attitude fell away in an instance, leaving only a pliant submissive in the place where sarcasm usually filled. You tested Wanda. You pushed her buttons and bit back at her when she dangled bait in front of your face, but it was always Wanda that you fought with, the woman Natasha married, not the dominant you knew that she was both inside and outside of the bedroom. You had enough respect for her to address her with obedience now, even if you tried to tell yourself you hated her guts. 

“Yes, ma’am.” You whispered, dropping your gaze to your trembling hands in your lap. “I only tried to help them. My professor kept telling me everything was okay.” 

“Your professor is an idiot, and if she doesn’t fail your partners when you tell her that they did nothing to help you, which you will tell her next time you have class, I will deal with her myself. Is that understood, little one?” Wanda’s hand reached out to capture your chin, and although you wanted to flinch away from her touch, scared that it would burn you if that was at all possible, you allowed her to redirect your stare until you were looking into her worried and angered eyes. 

“Yes.” You deflated, hating that your peaceful evening had turned into this. “Can we just drop it? Please? I don’t want to talk about school.” 

“You’ve had a long couple of days, haven’t you?” Natasha cooed sweetly, understanding what you needed even if you hadn’t explicitly asked for it. You wanted to shut your brain off and just surrender yourself to her. You wanted her to take control, you wanted her to make the decisions, and she was more than happy to comply with that request. 

“The longest.” You sighed out, leaning into her touch when she reached a hand out and gently cradled your face. “I didn’t want to be naughty. I didn’t think I was being naughty.” 

“I never laid out academic expectations, you have no reason to feel guilty about breaking a rule you didn’t know existed. You know now, and will you do it again?” Natasha asked softly, getting down on her knees in front of you and softly wiping the pads of her thumbs against your cheeks, wiping away tears that hadn’t yet fallen. 

“No.” You shook your head, an admission that you couldn’t stop from forming on the tip of your tongue. “Wanda’s scary.” 

Natasha laughed at your statement, but she nodded her head softly, not disagreeing with you. She had been on the receiving end of Wanda’s scolding one too many times, and she knew just how threatening it could be. If you thought she was scary now, when she was admittedly being very soft and patient with you, Natasha knew you’d be a gonner the second you actually did anything to piss her off. “She is pretty scary, huh? But it’s only because she cares about you, even though you like to act like a little brat whenever she’s around. You’re a cute brat.” 

“Natalia.” Wanda’s sharp tone caught both of your attention, and subconsciously you leaned in closer to Natasha as if she could protect you from her wife. “Do not encourage her.” 

Natasha cracked a small goofy smile that had you giggling, your guilt and upset long forgotten as you leaned forward to kiss her nose the same way she did to you. “Eat your pizza, baby. I’ll show you the surprise after, okay?” 

“Okay.” You agreed, letting her stand and retreat back to the kitchen to collect the water she would undeniably make you drink entirely. “I’m a cute brat.” You looked back at Wanda, repeating Natasha’s words that would definitely get you in trouble at a later date, but for tonight, Wanda allowed you to feel content with the admission, not wanting to see any more tears in your eyes. She would never tell you, but seeing you upset broke her heart just as much as it did when she saw Natasha upset.

“I am not above spanking a cute brats ass until it’s sore for a week, but yes, you are a very cute brat.” Wanda laughed, not missing the way your eyes bulged out of your head and you quickly distracted yourself with another bite of pizza. 

When pizza was eaten and a significant amount of water was drunk, Natasha kept her promise of showing you to your surprise. Wanda didn’t trail along with you, more than content to let you have a moment alone with the woman you would miss unbearably by this time tomorrow. You held onto Natasha’s hand as she guided you down the upstairs hallway, practically bouncing on your toes as she took her sweet time. 

“Why are we going in here? It’s empty.” You frowned when Natasha abruptly stopped walking and instead stood still in front of the third door on the left; the last door on this side of the hallway. The first two doors led to rooms you knew well, although Wanda’s office was significantly less explored then Natasha’s, you’d still been in there a handful of times when your dominant asked you to place some paperwork on her desk. 

“Finals are coming up, and I know you hate working in the library because college kids don’t know the definition of quiet.” Natasha began, her hand not yet reaching for the gold doorknob. The suspense was killing you, and she seemed to take great pleasure in that fact. “I thought you would like to have a space where you can come and do your work, or just decompress if you need to. Well, it was actually Wanda’s idea, but she thought you’d hate it if she knew it was her suggestion, so don’t tell her I told you.”  

“My lips are sealed.” You giggled, keeping your voice low and hushed, though you were absolutely certain Wanda could hear the both of you perfectly clear despite your mutual efforts to be sneaky. The woman had a strange sixth sense for knowing when you and Natasha were causing trouble, but this time it was at least a good trouble. 

“You have your key. I want you to use it when I’m gone, even if Wanda’s home and you think she won’t want to see you. This might not be your home, but you are welcome at all hours of the day and night.” Natasha kissed the side of your head gently before she reached out for the doorknob and gently led you inside, flicking on the lights when both of you were inside of the room. 

The plain white walls that you were used to were now adorned in all kinds of photographs and prints. Some of the pieces displayed were photographs of you and Natasha that you didn’t even know existed, but some were posters of your favorite places and artists that only someone who paid careful attention would know. You’d droned on and on about Scotland and Moscow one night with Natasha, and you hadn’t expected her to really be listening, nor remember the exact locations mentioned, but the scenic photographs of your favorite towns and cities proved that she had been and that she did. There were little knick knacks and trinkets on the bookshelf toward the back of the room, and your eyes quickly spotted a figurine of a whimsical fairy placed right beside your favorite children's book that brought you comfort on long days. There was greenery in almost every corner of the room. A succulent sitting on your desk with prickly beige spikes adorning its thickest section. You giggled at the pot of choice, approaching it slowly as if you weren’t allowed to touch it. The entire room was magnificent and so perfectly you, you didn’t even know how to express your gratitude.

“This is amazing, Nat.” You breathed out in wonder, sweeping the tips of your fingers along the potted cactus. The pot was a nude color, notably the same shade of pale as Natasha’s skin in the wintertime, and the painted nipples on the pot were comically small and pink. You knew that she’d been the one to pick out that pot, and you could almost imagine Wanda’s exasperation when she’d been shown it. “How much of a fuss did Wanda put up about the pot?” You giggled. 

“Oh she made me cook dinner for three days after that purchase. Something about me being ‘incredibly childish and needing to learn how an adult acts’. I know she likes it though. There’s a matching one in our bathroom.” Natasha’s smirk was smug, and you desperately wanted to kiss it off her face, but you were frozen in place when you realized there was a desktop computer sitting in the middle of your desk that was identical to the one in both her and Wanda’s office. 

“Nat, you didn’t need to do this. This must have cost you a fortune.” Tears brimmed your eyes, but unlike before, they weren’t in the slightest bit sad. You crashed into her chest with a force that threatened to knock her on her ass, but she had maintained upright and had reciprocated the embrace with a tightness that only reminded you about her upcoming departure. “I’m going to miss you so much.”  

“Hey, look at me, angel.” Natasha gently guided your eyes to meet hers, and you were shocked to find that they were just as glassy as your own. Maybe Wanda was telling you the truth when she said Natasha was just as upset about the business trip as you are. “I’ll be back in three hundred and thirty six hours, and then I’m not leaving for the rest of summer. You have me for three full months, can you be my strong girl for two weeks?” 

“Only if you promise that you won't have any fun while you’re gone. And that you’ll drink a pina colada for me, straight out of a coconut, with a pink bendy straw and a little umbrella.” Natasha laughed at your petulant proposition, but she extended her pinky finger in the same childish fashion. 

“I pinky promise I won’t have any fun. It’ll be impossible to have any fun without you, detka.” She whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips against your forehead. “And I pinky promise to drink a pina colada straight out of a coconut with a pink bendy straw and a little umbrella just for you.” 

“I can be your strong girl then.” You wrapped your pinky around hers, pulling your entangled fingers close to kiss them softly and lock in the promise. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.” 

“I wish I didn’t have to leave either, but it’s my turn to be the big scary boss lady. And, you’ll have this space to come to if you miss me. There might be a couple of other surprises laying around, but I want you to find them in your own time, okay?” 

“No super sneaky peeking around.” You agreed, cracking a genuine smile up at her. “Can we go watch the movie now? Wanda hasn’t complained about seeing Cars in a while.” 

“Are you ever going to let her have a moment of peace?” Natasha laughed at your cheeky expression, smoothing it down with a lingering kiss that was nothing but sweet. 

“Absolutely not.” You giggled, already peeling away from her body and making a mad dash down the stairs and toward the living room, knowing that she’d be right behind you. 

-

A fire in your lower belly is the sensation that eventually pulls you from sleep, though the blinding presence of morning sunshine is a close second. It takes only three seconds for you to realize that your hips are pinned to the soft mattress beneath your weight, incapacitating you from attempting to stretch like a newborn kitten, it takes you a further three seconds to realize that the fire in your core was not a result of a wet dream you couldn’t remember, but rather Natasha’s tongue and fingers as she worked you open. 

You gasped at a particularly harsh thrust, her fingers curling into your pussy with a vengeance, seeking out that soft spot within your walls that made your eyes roll each and every time she abused it. If you weren’t so disoriented from sleep, you would’ve had the decency to feel embarrassed about the wet squelching sounds that Natasha draws from your cunt every time she snaps her wrist back toward your mound, but there's no time to think about how desperate your body is for her touch even when asleep. 

“Daddy!” You cry out, your back arching off the bed, attempting to push yourself closer to her face and seek out a deeper pressure on your clit that's being worked over with practiced ease. You briefly wonder how long she’s been between your legs, but it's not a thought that stays longer than a fleeting single second before you're being distracted by her nails digging into your thigh wit the hand thats not fucking your desperate hole. “Please! Fuck!” 

Natasha moans against your pussy, and it’s only when you raise your head to see her clearly that you realize that there's a vibrator clenched between her own naked thighs and she’s actively chasing her own high, her hips rocking against the bulbous head of the purple toy you have a love-hate relationship with. Your fingers reach down to grab at her auburn hair, pulling her closer to where you need her most, begging her to fix the mess that she single-handedly created. 

You can feel the coil growing in your stomach, getting tighter and tighter with each pass of her tongue against your throbbing clit. You come undone so quickly for her, there’s no telling if she’s been between your thighs for mere minutes or entire hours, but the sensation of sunlight against your face tells you that it’s at least ten in the morning, and Natasha’s an early riser, so you know that if anything, she’s been edging you for at least an hour so successfully that you hadn’t even stirred. 

Her lips pull away from your clit far too soon for your liking, and the hill that you’d been climbing slowly starts to fall despite the fingers still practicing a punishing pace as they disappear into your most intimate part. “Do you know how many sweet orgasms Daddy has stolen from you, Princess? Do you know how sweetly you moan when you're still asleep?” 

“Fuck, Daddy, please!” You cry out in desperation, writhing on the bed before her free hand leaves your thigh and reclaims its position against your hips, effectively stilling your movements and leaving you to just accept what she gives you. 

“Five. Daddy’s edged you five times. You must’ve been so sleepy, baby girl. Do you feel all rested now?” She teases, and her mouth is so close to your pussy that you can feel the vibration of her words against your clit. She wont start up again until you’ve answered her, but there's not a single coherent sentence in your brain at the moment. Your senses and thoughts are consumed with one thing; her. “Hm, do you feel better now, baby? You were so tired last night you didn’t even make a fuss when Wanda carried you to bed.”

Your face flushes in embarrassment as you learn about who had been the one to tuck you in so tenderly. You remember red hair and soft lips as they kissed your forehead, you remember a gentle hand brushing against your cheeks as you whined for them to stay with you, but it hadn’t registered that it was Wanda who carried you upstairs and not Natasha. 

“Y-Yes, yes I feel better, now please! P-Please Daddy, make me cum! Let me cum!” You sob rather pathetically, but you're too lost in pleasure to care about how needy you come across. Your fingers that are still threaded into her hair attempt to pull her lips back to your clit and she lets you. If she didn’t want you winning, you know she could’ve easily resisted your grip, but there's something so satisfying about believing that you’ve overpowered Natasha Maximoff. 

“Thought you’d never ask.” Natasha hums against your clit, devouring your pussy with purpose. She’s not wasting time on pleasantries, you suppose she’s already done enough of that, and her tongue sets a punishing pace in tune with her fingers as she circles and flicks at your clit with the very opposite of kitten licks like you know she loves to tease you with. 

“Oh! Oh!” You cry out, an orgasm approaching you, but unlike earlier, Natasha doesn’t pull away and she doesn’t slow down, if anything, she picks up speed and hammers into your pussy so harshly you know you’ll be feeling these lingering touches for days afterward. You can’t bring it upon yourself to care though, and your hips attempt to meet her thrusts. “Please! Please!” 

“Hold it.” Natasha sounds desperate herself, and it's only when she increases the speed of the vibrator that you realize what she wants. She wants to cum together. She’s leaving today, in less than two hours, but she’s taking the time to be with you rather than packing her carry-on, and on top of that, she wants to cum together. You're drowning in adoration, blinded by pleasure, completely surrendering yourself to her and whatever she deems you worthy of receiving. “Just a little more, Daddy’s so close, baby. Gonna cum with Daddy? You gonna cum all over Daddy’s face and let her taste you before she leaves? Gonna let me remember the taste of your sweet pussy before I leave for the airport?”

“Please! Please, I want to cum for you!” You cry out, your blunt nails clawing at the skin of her neck and shoulders as you feel yourself beginning to crash over that blissful edge of satisfaction. Natasha doesn’t stop you this time, and with the slightest signal of permission as her fingers tap twice on your belly, you fall over that edge and gush around her fingers. 

“Good girl.” She coos, her breath caught in her throat as she comes down from her own high, wiggling away from the vibrator when the sensations become too much against her sensitive clit. “Such a good girl for me.” She praises you, rewarding you with a soft kiss against your throbbing clit. “Shh, let Daddy clean you up.” Natasha hums, pulling her fingers out of your pussy and replacing them with her tongue. You reach for her hand, knowing how much it drives her crazy when you suck your orgasm off of her fingers, and right now, you’re more than willing to please her in that way. Your tongue rolls between her knuckles, your teeth gently nibbling at her skin. You can barely feel her tongue cleaning you up as you devote yourself to her fingers, but you know she’s satisfied when she leans overtop of you and kisses you slowly, her lips damp with your arousal. 

“Morning, Natty.” You whisper shyly, threading your fingers through her hair in a much nicer manner now that you’re not desperate for release. She smiles and mumbles the same greeting against your lips, and though you can taste yourself on her tongue, you can also taste Wanda, and you have a feeling the Sokovian lawyer in the room just next door was woken up in the same fashion. “Can taste Wanda on you.” You giggle softly, shoving her away from you in favor of cuddling up into her chest and making the most of the next hour and a half. 

“She’s sweet, isn’t she?” Natasha teases, her fingers, still damp from your mouth, trace the smooth embellishments on your cheeks. She adores all of your imperfections, she’s guilty of running her thumb across the jagged scar on your hip whenever you wear shirts short enough to reveal the blemished skin, but something about her right now is so different then the many other times you’ve been in this position. You never want to leave her embrace but you know that you have to. You hate that you have to. “Wanda’s making breakfast. I have time for some coffee and pancakes before my flight.” 

“I don’t want you to leave. I can fit in your suitcase if I really try, I’m sure of it.” You plead with her, but despite her wanting to see you try, she shakes her head and kisses away the pout on your lips. 

“I think that counts as human trafficking. I might be the best lawyer in the world, but even I don’t have a good enough defense to get me out of those charges.” She teases, pulling you into an upright position so you won't fall asleep on her like you want to. 

“Piggyback down the stairs?” You question, rubbing your eyes with closed fists, another one of your habits that both Natasha and Wanda hate, but she doesn’t reprimand you today. 

“Of course, darling. Put your shorts back on and then I’ll bring you down.” Natasha kisses you one last time before she gently forces you off the guest bed and onto your own feet. You make quick work of redressing, forgoing the purple panties you had initially worn over last night, knowing that if she’d taken the time to edge you five times before you’d even woken up, that they were surely drenched and in need of multiple washes. Better yet, you might as well just throw them out. 

You clamber onto her back with a smile on your lips the second your shorts are back into place, giggling manically when she jostles you around and makes a show of running down the stairs two at a time, much to Wanda’s displeasure. Your sensitive core rubs against the seam of your pajama shorts and the muscles in her back, but you pay the tickling sensations no mind, desperate to just enjoy these last few moments in her company to the best of your abilities. 

“Do you still have a voice, malen’kiy? I’m pretty sure the neighbors heard you.” Wanda teased the second you and Natasha entered the kitchen, bringing an immediate scowl to your face. You kicked your foot out in her direction, knowing you’d miss but just wanting to retaliate in some way. “Do not act up with me, little one. Natasha can’t save you when she leaves.” 

“Don’t be a meanie then!” You stuck your tongue out at her, hardly realizing the grave you were digging for yourself. Tensions were high with the promise of Natasha leaving, there was no real malice behind your jabs, but just as your emotions were unruly, Wanda’s patience was thin. Your eyes went wide when she suddenly appeared so much closer than you remembered her being, and you anticipated her next move before she’d even acted, but unfortunately for you, you hadn’t been quick enough to pull your tongue back into the safety of your mouth before Wanda was pinching it between her thumb and pointer finger.  

“I understand you’re upset, but I will not tolerate this disobedience. If you want to join us for breakfast, you will knock it off now, otherwise I have no problem making you a plate and sending you to eat in the living room by yourself. Is that what you want, milyy?” You shook your head, but quickly regretted the decision when you remembered Wanda still held your tongue firmly. You whined, batting her hands away from your face but she was unrelenting, and if anything, her grip only got tighter. “If I see that tongue out again, you’re not going to like what happens.” She warned, and even though you wanted to call her bluff, Natasha’s tight grip on your ankles told you that was not a fire you wanted to play with today. 

You whined, thankful that she had stopped holding your tongue captive and had walked back toward the stove, but now you were left with the sickest feeling of embarrassment crawling up your spine. For as bratty as you tended to be, you hated being scolded. You attempted to hide away in Natasha’s neck, but Wanda seemed to have grown a third eye and was quick to reprimand your fleeting attempts to worm your way into Natasha’s good graces. 

“You do not get to hide. You wanted to be a brat, you can deal with the embarrassment of being reprimanded. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times, I am not as lenient as my wife, and I do not tolerate disobedience. Fix your pout, go sit down at the table, and wait quietly for me to finish your eggs.” Wanda pointed toward the already set table with her spatula, only briefly glancing back at you when she made the effort to reach for the salt and pepper shakers. 

“Wanna stay with Natty.” You pleaded quietly, not attempting to hide your face again, but still holding tightly onto your dominant who would be leaving for the airport in forty minutes. You didn’t even have a full hour left anymore. 

“I’ll be right there, go sit down. It’s okay, you’re okay.” Natasha lowered you onto the ground, softly kissing your temple before she patted your bottom and guided your shoulders in the direction of the table just beyond the threshold of the kitchen. Wanda and Natasha were the only people you know that actively used their dining room for every meal they ate together. They even had a breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen with pretty blue placemats and a vase of fresh flowers as a centerpiece, but on the nights that you slept over, you’ve never even seen so much as a book be left on the table. 

You sighed, doing as was asked of you, if only for a handful of minutes before you headed straight back toward the kitchen. You could hear their whispered voices even from where you were meant to be sitting at the table, but what they were saying was practically indistinguishable. They were too far away and far too quiet to make out clearly, but you hoped it wasn’t about you. You hoped that you hadn’t completely ruined Natasha’s last morning at home before her business trip. You sighed softly, deciding against ignoring your anxiety, and slowly approached them again, your hands clasped in front of you. As much as you wanted to run straight toward Natasha and have her hold you, your eyes were trained on Wanda, waiting for her to notice your presence, though you knew she already had. Maybe she was waiting for you to make the first move, or maybe she was ignoring you because she thought you were deliberately disobeying her. She wasn’t your dominant, she wasn’t anything to you, not really at least, but somehow it felt wrong to disobey her so directly.  

“What is it, detka? Wanda asked you to sit at the table, did she not?” Natasha decided to throw you a bone after it was made clear that neither you nor Wanda were going to make the first move. You were both far too stubborn for your own good, but luckily enough, you had her to bridge the gap when neither of you were willing to give an inch. 

Your eyes flickered between both Natasha and Wanda, and softly, so softly, you found the strength to apologize. “M’sorry, Wanda.” You admitted weakly, looking down at your naked feet in a lash ditch effort to avoid her strong stare, not wanting to see her face if she decided to reject your apology and send you away again. “C-Can I stay here?” 

“Come here.” Wanda sighed softly, and you faintly recognized the sound of the spatula being set down and placed on the countertop. When you looked up from your feet, still avoiding Wanda’s eye but no longer trying to make yourself seem small, you noticed that the eggs were done cooking, piled up onto a serving plate and resting near a pitcher of orange juice that you had no doubt was freshly squeezed and organic from the local farmers market, though it lacked pulp much to your delight. Natasha was a freak when it came to how she liked her orange juice, but you were glad to see that at least somebody who permanently occupied a space in this house had some sanity. “I didn’t send you over there as a punishment, detka. You needed to breathe, and now that you have, you feel better don’t you?” 

You nodded your head, because admittedly you did feel a little bit better now that you had taken a couple of minutes to put space between yourself and Wanda and all the big sad feelings you had no choice but to shuffle through. You still wrung your fingers together and looked everywhere but Wanda’s eye, but you definitely felt better. You could see Natasha’s smile in your peripheral vision, and you exhaled softly at the confirmation that you hadn’t completely ruined everything, another weight falling off of your shoulders. 

“Did being over there make you anxious because you could hear us talking and you thought it was about you?” Wanda tested the waters, and your head snapped up to look at her with pure bewilderment in your expression. “Aren’t you the one who calls me a witch, shouldn’t you expect for me to know everything that goes on in that pretty little head?” 

“Yeah.” You grimaced slightly. You didn’t know she had caught onto your less than creative nickname for her, but apparently she had and had just accepted it without complaint, or maybe she had complained to Natasha, but she wasn’t saying anything to you about it now. You felt bad, not normally someone who resorted to name calling when you were around someone you didn’t like, but Wanda just made you so… annoyed, for lack of a better adjective.  

“Good job recognizing that.” She praised you lightly, and as much as you didn’t want to, you glowed beneath her positive attention, your eyes flickering to Natasha as if to ask her if she was actually hearing the same thing as you. The auburn-haired woman laughed at your expression, merely shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders. “Ah, not looking at Natasha, looking at me. Good girl.” Wanda gently scolded, and your cheeks flushed at her continuous praise. If someone would've told you that when you’d gotten into this situation that Wanda would be the one dishing out praise while Natasha stood silently on the sidelines, you would’ve laughed in their face. “Come here, I made Natty and I’s pancakes, but you can make yours.” 

“I can help?” You light up at the suggestion, eager to get your hands on the bowl of batter that was waiting on the side of the stove, and you definitely spotted chocolate chips sitting right beside it. Neither Wanda nor Natasha had any specs of brown on their breakfast, so you wondered if those had been taken down just for you. 

“If you promise not to splash batter everywhere.” Wanda hummed, and her eyes flickered briefly over to Natasha who was less than amused at the unneeded comment. 

“It was one time! And it was your fault! Who comes up behind someone in the middle of making pancakes!” Natasha exclaimed in playful exasperation, though her wide smile betrayed her faux annoyance. 

“And what is throwing pancake batter going to do if I had been the intruder you claimed to think I was? Was your plan to avoid being murdered by offering them a nice homemade breakfast?” Wanda rolled her eyes, pressing a kiss to Natasha’s cheek before she focused her attention back to you. “Bring the eggs to the table, Natasha.” 

“Bring the eggs to the table, Natasha. Wash my car in the middle of a snowstorm, Natasha. Find a way to make elephants purple, Natasha.” The woman droned on in an accent similar to Wanda’s, though there was a distinguishable difference in her tone. With her Russian roots, she couldn’t quite master the Sokovian accent, but she certainly tried her best. Her mocking was more or less ignored, though Wanda did threateningly snap a dish towel in her direction and wordlessly pointed toward the dining room. “I thought this was my going away breakfast and yet I’m being put to work.” 

“You have thirty minutes to eat, and unless you’d like me to let you get on a plane starving, you’ll do as I ask.” Wanda rolled her eyes, but her attention was no longer on her dramatic wife. Instead, she was entirely focused on you and guiding you through the motions of pouring the remaining pancake batter into the already hot and sizzling pan. You giggled when the smallest bit of batter splattered out of the pan, landing on the skin of your hand though you were grateful it wasn’t yet hot.

“Can I put chocolate chips in it?” You bounced on your toes excitedly, already reaching for the bag despite not yet having Wanda’s permission. Natasha was strictly against you eating sugary things for breakfast when you had classes to focus on, but it seems Wanda didn’t share the same concerns, because she hummed her approval seconds before your hand dipped into the bag. 

“Do you want some pancake with your chocolate, honey?” Wanda laughed, and for once, you didn’t get offended by her teasing, just craned your neck and offered her the brightest smile you could muster. “If you can’t pay attention in class today, we will not be having chocolate chip pancakes on weekdays again. Got it, dove?” 

“Got it!” You giggled, not really paying attention to her anyways. You were entirely too busy making sure that your single pancake didn’t burn as a result of the too high heat and combined culinary negligence, though every couple of seconds you snuck a handful of chocolate chips into your mouth and hummed as they melted on your tongue. They bought the good chocolate, that shouldn’t have surprised you. 

“I can see you, you are aware of that, aren’t you?” Wanda laughed, but there was no bite to her taunt, and again you found that it didn’t bother you like it usually did. If she had wanted you to stop eating the chocolate chips, she would’ve asked you to, but she quite enjoyed seeing you so carefree and happy with the ongoing promise of Natasha’s departure looming heavily in the air around you both. 

“Do you want one?” You replied coyly, holding up your hand for her to see. There was in fact a singular chocolate chip pinched between your fingers, and while Wanda wanted to roll her eyes and remind you that she had been the one to purchase them in the first place, she settled for simply accepting your offer. Her way of accepting your offer however, had not been what you’d had in mind, and you’d flinched in shock when her teeth grazed the knuckles of your fingers and her tongue corralled the single piece of chocolate into her mouth. “That– That is not what I meant!” You blushed a ferocious shade of red, quickly turning back around and focusing your attention on the pancake that had finally finished cooking. 

“Stop teasing her, Wands!” Natasha’s voice called out from the dinning room where she had remained throughout the entire ordeal, but you could hear the amusement in her tone and wondered if she could see the both of you from wherever she was standing. 

“Yeah, Wands.” You giggled, poking your tongue out at the lawyer before you remembered her earlier words and your face dropped. “Sorry!” 

“She stuck her tongue out at you again, didn’t she?” Natasha’s voice filled your ears, and the sound of her laughter followed shortly after, but you were too mortified to smile at the sound. You turned around to look at Wanda nervously, noting that her hands were on her hips and her perfectly manicured nails glimmered beneath the bright lighting and unfiltered sunlight. Her eyebrow was quirked perfectly, and you wondered how long she had practiced that expression until she was sure it was perfect. She had her intimidation tactics down pat, but you supposed that came with owning the world's most successful law firm.  

“Sorry! I really didn’t mean to!” You pleaded with her to believe you, knowing that the time you could spend with Natasha was slowly dwindling, and you really did not want to spend the last few minutes of contact with Wanda mad at you. 

The stern expression on the lawyer's face melted away like it had never been there in the first place, and Wanda laughed so sweetly you were almost absolutely certain that you’d somehow missed a joke Natasha murmured from the dining room. You pouted in confusion, digging your toe into the hardwood floor and flickering your gaze down to watch. 

“You’re fine, detka. Thank you for apologizing, but I know you were just teasing, huh?” She smiled, lifting your chin to meet your gaze. She kissed your forehead, something she had only ever done when you were half-asleep or entirely fucked out, but you couldn’t deny, even though you desperately wanted to, that it felt nice, comforting even. “Get those pancakes into the dining room before they get cold. Natty only has a couple more minutes before her driver gets here.” 

And once again you were faced with the unavoidable truth. Natasha was leaving for fourteen days and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

-

The first five days without Natasha had gone as well as had been expected, though you would say you were faring significantly better than she’d ever anticipated. Even Wanda, who you had seen a handful of times throughout the week when you escaped to the Maximoff residence to work in your newly established office, had been surprised at your composure. The older woman of the couple had never been away for so long, usually capping her trips at three to five days, and even that was challenging for you to accept in the beginning of your relationship, but you were handling the distance well and with pride, being her strong girl like you’d promised to be. You talked daily, and though you didn’t hear her voice as much as you would like, she’d made the time to FaceTime twice so far. Just because she didn’t have the time to call didn’t mean you missed out completely on what activities she was up to though. She made sure to send you plenty of pictures of the scenery, and you’d all but gushed over the resort she was staying at when she sent you a picture of the sunset from her room. There were at least twenty pictures of Bahama sunrises in your camera roll now, but your favorite pictures were the ones you got at random throughout the day that were nonsensical and entirely her. She sent you pictures of her outfits and of her drinks when she managed to escape to the bar after whatever meetings had given her a headache. She’d managed to get her hands on a pina colada in a coconut on the second day of her trip, and although the bendy straw was yellow not pink, you forgave her and asked how it was. Your most favorite pictures however, were the ones of her notes. You’d expected the CEO of a successful law firm to take detailed and attentive notes, but every time she sent you a picture of her notebook, the pages were filled with random doodles of flowers and stick people, and yours and Wanda’s name in different squiggly styles. You held those closest to your chest, because even if you were just her submissive, she was thinking about you the same way she was thinking about Wanda, her wife. 

Your academic workload hadn’t lightened in the last five days, but you’d been juggling classes and routine well, somehow managing to balance studying and homework as seamlessly as anyone who made the decision to overload in a Spring semester could manage. You had hours of homework a night, research papers and historical annotations never giving you a break, but the end was in sight, and for a while, that simple fact had been enough to keep you pushing through. You knew Natasha would be proud of your grades at the end of the semester, and you had been anticipating the praise and reward she was sure to provide, but that all came crashing down after your last lecture of the night. Your professor, Sharan Carter, had berated you for your complaints about your group project, but not only that, she had failed you. Her reasoning had been that you did not adhere to the guidelines of the assignment, claiming that you made no effort to work alongside your partners, and even though she had a small novel of proof in her email history that debunked that accusation, she hadn’t wanted to hear your side of the story, and had sent you out of her office with the dismissive shake of her head. 

All you had wanted in that moment of shame and defeat was Natasha, and although you knew she was over a thousand miles away on a tropical island, probably stiff as a board in some multi-hour meeting that she had no real care for, you had gotten in your car and driven straight to the Maximoff residence. Your hands were trembling at your sides, and it would appear to anyone who even glanced at you too quickly that you’d been caught in a sporadic storm with how damp your cheeks were from the tears that defied your attempts to keep them at bay. Your hands were trembling so violently that you couldn’t get the key in the hole, and dissimilar from how the front door remained unlocked until lights out when Natasha was home, you found that Wanda was in the habit of locking it each and every time she left and entered. The thought of the Sokovian lawyer made a sob crawl past your lips, and feverishly you knocked on the door, hoping she could hear you from wherever she was in the house. You didn’t care about how you were supposed to hate her. You didn’t care about the rivalry that existed between the two of you, though it was slowly becoming an afterthought as the days passed. She was the only source of comfort you had right now, and as you waited on the porch, shaking like a leaf in the middle of a hurricane, you yearned for her touch and her citrusy scent. 

When the door opened, and the quickest glimpse of Wanda’s burgundy hair flashed before your eyes, there wasn’t a second of hesitation that crossed your mind before you stepped past the threshold of where their porch met the entryway and dug yourself into the lawyer’s chest, desperately clutching at her t-shirt. Agonizing sobs further shake your already trembling body, and you barely recognize the weight of her hands slinking around your waist and drawing you in closer to her chest as you finally let yourself fall apart completely. 

“S-She failed me.” You sobbed into Wanda’s arms, acutely aware of how silly you probably came across to the businesswoman as you allowed yourself to become so distraught over something as trivial as a project grade, but the combination of academic failure and Natasha’s absence had entirely demolished your reserve. “A-And you told me to t-tell you if she didn’t listen to me! So I am! I did! I’m telling you! A-And Natty’s not here, and I’m so tired, and she failed me and it dropped my entire semester grade to a D! A-And I just, I just wanted Nat, and I don’t even know why I came because I know she’s not here, b-but then I got here and I just wanted you, and-and-and-” 

“Shh,” Wanda soothed you gently, effectively stopping you from working yourself up even further than she thought possible with your practically incomprehensible rambling and heartbreaking tears. Her gentle hands rub patterns onto your back that you were only vaguely aware of in your state of upset, but eventually the combination of her physical presence and dull beating of her heart in your ear calms you down enough to allow you to suck in a sharp gasp of air. “You’re okay. You’re okay, sweetheart. Just take a deep breath for me, okay? Good girl.” 

You melted into Wanda’s embrace as she continued to hold you tight, one of her ringed hands eventually trailing up your spine until it found a home at the back of your head. She pressed your face into her neck, not caring about how your wet cheeks made her skin damp and sticky, just wanting to keep you close until she was absolutely certain that you had calmed down enough to breathe normally. Even if you hadn’t realized how close you were to tipping over the edge and into a full episode of panic, Wanda had, and it scared her half to death to see you so distraught and beside yourself. Up until this very moment, she’d never even considered how she would miss your sarcastic quips and ruthless banter, but opening her front door to find you a mere shell of the woman you usually were had been horrifying and not something she ever wanted to relive. 

Eventually, you pulled away from her embrace, wanting to wipe your cheeks free of tear tracks and mascara, and desperate to breathe in the fresh scent of blossoming spring that surrounded the suburban roads of Westview. Wanda smelled heavenly, she was positively addicting with her coconut mandarin mix, but fresh air was non negotiable in your current state, and greedily you breathed in through your nose deeply until that suffocating feeling in your chest became a simple buzz. It was then that you realized Wanda was wearing her blue light glasses, and your gut clenched in guilt, realizing that she’d been working up until your little meltdown.  

“Fuck, you were working. I’m sorry.” You apologized quickly, a fresh onslaught of tears brimming your eyes. You couldn’t seem to do anything right today, and so desperately you wished that Natasha were here to make it all better, despite knowing the luck of your day had nothing to do with the physical presence of one single person. 

“No more tears. No more tears, detka.” Wanda coaxes you farther into the house, not allowing you to back away and retreat toward your car like you’d been attempting to do since realization sunk in. “Nat told you to come over whenever, I’m glad you remembered that. I know I’m not Natasha, sweet girl. I wish I could bring her back for you, but for right now, why don’t you tell me what you need, hm? Can you do that?” 

“You’re working. It’s important if you're working at home this late.” You whispered shamefully, not wanting to be the reason Wanda falls behind on deadlines. You know it’s her company and she can do whatever she damn well pleases, pushing off a few measly emails included in that long list of possibilities, but you would feel horrible if your childish breakdown caused more work and stress for both her and Natasha in the future. 

“It is important, you’re right about that, malysh. Darcy fucked up big time with a client, and now I need to fix her mess before they ask for her release, and I won’t be able to argue with them if it comes to that, but nothing is more important then your wellbeing, so can you talk me through what you need?” Wanda gently cupped your cheeks in the same manner that Natasha usually does when you're in this state, and you felt a pang of sadness rush through you as you realized the true extent of how much you missed her. You’d been pushing off the sadness and grief that came with her absence, but you couldn’t avoid it forever, and apparently it had decided to catch up with you now. 

“Water. Natty always makes me drink water after and she… she holds me.” You admitted shyly, afraid of Wanda’s reaction to what you were indirectly asking of her, but all she did was smile at you reassuringly and lead you in toward the kitchen, the wide open front door forgotten about for a few short moments. 

Wanda makes quick work of filling a glass for you, not letting go of your hand for more than a necessary second throughout the entire process, for which you were grateful. You were absolutely certain that if she let go now, you’d spiral back down into that isolating pit of never ending thoughts. She pours herself a glass as well, though hers is taller than yours. She takes a sip before motioning for you to do the same, watching you intently over the rim of her glasses that have started to slip down the bridge of her nose. The cold water feels marvelous on your throat when you finally raise the glass to your lips and take a small sip, having not realized how scratchy and stiff it was as a result of your crying. 

“Would you like to sit in with me as I finish up with the paperwork?” Wanda questions you, her tone indicative of your freedom to decline her offer and ask for something else, but you wouldn’t even dream about saying no to her right now. 

“I can?” You asked meekly, shuffling on your feet nervously. 

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t being truthful, dorogoy. I know you’re worried about me falling behind, so I figured I could hold you in my lap for a while until I finish up everything that needs to get done. Does that sound like a good plan?” Wanda checked in with you, her thumb rubbing comforting circles on your knuckles. Her touch on your hand is a stark contrast from how she’d last grabbed you when you were in the kitchen together, but it feels nice and you don’t ever want to pull away from it. 

“The front doors still open.” You remind her, and she laughs softly at your concern for the door, guiding you back into the living room and toward the entryway. She closes the door with a soft push, making sure that both locks are clicked before she even considers turning toward the stairs and leading you up toward her office. She may be a capable woman, but a home intruder felt like something she wasn’t quite qualified to deal with. 

“There, all better.” She smiled down at you, leaning in just close enough to brush her lips against your forehead. “Do you need anything else before we head up to my office? It might take a couple of hours before I have everything completed.” 

“No.” You decline her offer, shuffling closer into her embrace when you ultimately decided she was too far away. Your free hand was still holding onto the glass of water, and you were careful not to spill any of it as you moved.

“Okay then, bug. Let’s go.” She squeezed your hand tightly, slowly leading the way toward her office despite your familiarity with the route. You didn’t complain about her slow pace, taking the time to really admire the subtle details of her home that you overlooked when you were busy chasing Natasha around. 

The Maximoff residence was luxuriant and abundant to put it gently. There were large windows in both the kitchen and the living room that allowed sunlight to pour in at every hour of the day and coat the furniture in golden hues. There were subtle traces of both Wanda and Natasha’s separate personalities in the decor that filled bookshelves and countertops, but for the most part, their style blended together superbly. It wasn’t obnoxious or over-the-top, no, it was done so tastefully that you thought the interior of the house belonged in some high class magazine that showcased celebrity homes. The accents of black in their appliances and metal hardware that were undoubtedly Natasha’s doing, but you thought it fit perfectly with the presently white walls and light colored wood. Wanda had more to do with the furnishing if her office was any indication. While Natasha’s furniture was practical and bare, Wanda spared no expense in assuring her office was both functional and comfortable. Their subtle differences were what made them work as both romantic and business partners so well, and you hoped that one day you’d be lucky enough to find a love like theirs.  

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Wanda checked in, effectively drawing you out of your head that you’d somehow gotten lost in, but your thoughts weren’t unpleasant, and the ghost of a smile on your lips assured Wanda that you were fine. 

“Did Nat pick the black hardware?” You questioned softly, following Wanda as she stepped into her office and closed the door behind you both. 

The woman laughed at your question, having expected hardware to be the last thing on your mind, but she nodded her head. “She did. I wanted gold.” 

“I like it. I could tell she picked it. You picked the furniture.” You mumbled, glad to be talking about something other than your breakdown. You didn’t know what you expected when you originally sought Wanda out for comfort, but you were glad she was just rolling with the punches as they came. 

“Very attentive, little one. I did.” When she sat down in her office chair, setting her water down carefully a good few inches away from her keyboard, she turned to you expectantly, patting her lap with a silent invitation. She pried the glass of water from your grip, placing it next to hers, and you realized then that she had gotten down two different glasses on purpose. “Get comfy, we might be here a while.” 

You sank into her lap tentatively, unsure of how she liked to be held. You practically koala’d yourself around Natasha whenever she allowed you to keep her company in her office, but you’d never cuddled like this with Wanda before, and you didn’t want to make her feel suffocated with your clinginess. So instead, you settled for resting your cheek against her chest, the crown of your head tucked beneath her chin, and you kept your arms pinned between your chests. You could feel her every inhale as she breathed, and you quickly decided that you liked this position. 

“Before you get too sleepy, I need the name of your professor, malen’kiy.” Wanda rubbed your back with a heavy palm, making note of the fact that you seemed to have forgone a bra when getting dressed that morning. You were just like Natasha in that way, and she found a gentle smile gracing her features at the subtle similarities between the two of you. It was no wonder you fit together like a glove, you were practically replicas of each other in the little aspects of your interests and personalities. 

“Sharon Carter.” You mumbled, entirely too content to really care about how you were basically feeding the woman to wolves with your admission of her name. Wanda would rip her to shreds when she got her claws on her, you were sure of that fact, but she deserved it after the harsh and unnecessary comments she’d made. 

“Carter, huh.” There was something in Wanda’s tone that implied she was familiar with the woman, or at the very least her last name, but you didn’t care all that much about whatever was going through her head. 

“Shh.” You silenced her, snuggling deeper into her chest and clutching the hem of her t-shirt between your fingers, wanting to rest in silence for the next couple of hours. 

Amused with your antics, Wanda pressed a kiss to the top of your head before she got back to business, the only sound that filled the office was the rhythmic clicking of her keyboard as her fingers worked feverishly to resolve the issue that Darcy had created. It wasn’t even a full ten minutes before you were sound asleep against her chest, your deep and even breaths tickling the exposed skin of Wanda’s chest, but she didn’t care as long as you were feeling better. 

Your relationship shifted that night. It wasn’t perfect, not yet at least, but you couldn’t deny that Wanda had somehow wormed her way into your heart, or maybe, just maybe, she had always had a place in it to begin with.

[ethereal-writes]

How hyper is too hyper for each of the brothers?

I can get sugar rushes easily and I just wanna enjoy some coffee without the need to run around the house and chat with people. I have to have decaf coffee.

(I like the post I found once where Mc drank an energy drink Levi handed them and is running everywhere creating chaos.)

Obey Me Brothers With A Hyper GN!MC

Warnings: None!

Length: 0.5k words

Summary: How well would the demon brothers put up with a hyper MC?

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! I know it's been a very long time since you sent it in, I apologize for that, but I hope I did the concept justice :D

-Ethereal (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Lucifer can handle it better than you might think. He has to spend all day putting up with his brothers after all, and is pretty used to all the chaos. If you want to sit there and talk his ear off while he works on his copious amounts of paperwork, he wouldn’t have a problem with that…though how much he’s actually listening to you is up for debate. If you’re still going by he time he’s finished, he’d probably be willing to take a walk with you to burn off the rest of that energy. Overall 7/10.

Mammon and Asmo are both extremely hyper, so they’d be happy to match your energy. You want to sit there and talk for hours? Mammon will tell you all about his latest money-making schemes while Asmo goes on and on about his latest skincare routine. You need to get up and move? They’d be down to walk around the neighborhood or go dancing. Overall 10/10.

Leviathan would be fantastic to talk to if you want to talk nonstop. He’s a really good listener, and if you want to go on tangents while the two of you are gaming he wouldn’t mind at all. He’ll probably return that energy, going on his own tangents about the latest in-game events or fandom discourse (regardless of whether he’s caffeinated or not). However, if you’re physically energized, you might be on your own. He might play a few rounds of DevilDance with you, but after that he’d probably watch you until you tire yourself out. Overall 5/10.

Satan would probably struggle a bit to keep up with you if you were rapidly jumping from topic to topic. It's not really his usual way of conversation, he prefers to stick to one and delve deeper into it. He probably won't jump in too much, but he'd find it very interesting to listen to the way you connect one thought to another so insanely fast. And if you needed to burn off some physical energy, he'd be happy to take you on a walk around the neighborhood. He knows where all of the local stray cats hang out, and y'all can make a day of it :D

Beelzebub would be pretty decent regardless of how your hyper energy manifested. If he notices you being incredibly restless, he might ask you if you want to go to the gym to burn off some of the energy. If that’s not your thing, he’s also happy to just walk around the neighborhood with you. If you’re talking a lot, he probably won’t match your energy. Partially because he doesn’t talk much anyway, but he also wants to let you talk uninterrupted and listen to everything you have to say. Overall 8/10.

Belphegor would objectively be the worst one to go to when you’re hyper. Not only does he probably not want to spent a lot of time physically exerting himself, but if you’re talking while he’s trying to sleep (which is most of the time) he’s either going to ignore you completely or probably shush you. Overall 1/10.

[widowbitessting]

Baby It's Hot Outside - A Sugar Mommies Drabble

Word Count: 1729

Rating: General with fluffy scenes. SFW!

Summary: The One Where MJ cares for you.

Dom!Natasha Romanoff, Dom!Wanda Maximoff, Dom!Carol Danvers x Sub!Reader

You can’t open the door to your own apartment. It’s your first sign that the headache you’ve had for the past hour might be transforming into a migraine. And it sucks. Pain resonates behind your eyeballs and you have to squint to see where the stupid moving lock is so you can get inside. 

Has it always been so low down? Surely not.

The key finally does its job and you’re allowed inside your own apartment, near collapsing on the floor as you go. 

Definitely too hot today. Seriously too hot. 

It’s your own fault really; your classmate in all her wisdom kept offering you caffeine and you, in all of your wisdom, kept accepting. 

So now you're coming down from the copious amount of caffeine, mix that with the grand total of 0 litres of water you’ve had as well as the sheer heat of the day, and it’s no wonder you feel like your head is going to explode. 

Mistakes have definitely been made. 

You somehow manage to get to your sofa, falling onto the not so soft cushions face first. The sudden dark does a lot to sooth your eyes and you don’t know how long you stay like that, only shifting slightly to breathe, until MJ nb udges your leg with her foot.

“Two people live here, y’know. Move over.”

You don’t even try to form a coherent reply, moving your heavy body like she asks, wrapping yourself up into a ball. The shiver that wrecks through your body trembles the entire sofa and MJ doesn’t seem to notice. She clicks on Netflix and settles with her hot chocolate, completely unaware of your dying state beside her. 

She glances your way when your phone rings, looking at the picture of Wanda as it flashes up on your cell. You don’t even move, eyes squinting shut against the dim light of the living room. For you, they feel like spotlights. 

You shift uncomfortably on the sofa. 

Your phone pings a minute later; a text from Wanda, asking you to call her ASAP, she’s having an icecream emergency - aka: she wants ice cream but Natasha and Carol won’t allow her. 

You know she’s messaged in your group chat because your phone begins to after every few seconds.

Why didn’t you mute your phone? Why?

It doesn’t take long for MJ to let out a frustrated sigh and kick her feet so they’re under her. Her toes tickle your right foot, making you jerk and when you still don’t make a move to check your phone, MJ does it again.

“Dude, answer them or I’m throwing your cell out of the window.”

It takes all of your energy to move, and even then, you misjudge the end of the sofa and almost faceplant the floor. 

With trembling arms, you struggle to hold your upper body weight and here is where MJ finally takes pity on you.

“This is painful, move.”

She snatches your phone for you and goes to pass it when she finally registers your appearance. 

“Woah…you’re not about to die on me are you? I’d have three pissed off women on my case if you do.” 

You shudder. MJ throws your phone aside and lifts you up by your armpits, settling you back on your original position on the sofa. 

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You can only shake your head. 

“I know this isn’t the time to notice this but that medicated deodorant you’re using really works, you’re bone dry!” MJ lets out a nervous chuckle. “Laugh, Y/N/N. You always laugh at my crappy jokes…even if they are pitiful…get it?” 

You don’t even smile as a response and MJ jumps to her feet.

“Oh my god, you are dying!” 

“...not…dying…sick…”

“You are sick, you feel sick or you’re going to be sick?” 

“...all of the above.” 

MJ falls over herself as she sprints into the kitchen. She returns with the anointed “puke bucket” which is a mixing bowl you had ended up using one time after too many shots. No sooner does she place it near your face, do you start to heave, body jerking gags where you think your stomach is going to come up out of your throat. 

She touches your forehead. 

“You’re burning up. Have you eaten something bad? Drank too much?” 

“...not…” You spit out a wad of saliva. “...enough.”

“You haven’t eaten enough?” Something in MJ’s brain clicks. “Please tell me you’ve been drinking water today, Y/N. Please.” 

You shake your head.

“I’d hit you if you weren’t so fragile. You’ve not drunk anything? Dude! It’s one of the hottest days of the year!” 

“I had…coffee and stuff…” 

You grimace and turn away from the bowl.

“You are actually going to die. They’re going to murder you, you know that? And then turn on me because I’m an unknowing accomplice. You’ve only had coffee all day? Y/N!” 

“Don’t tell them.”

“How can I not? They’re bound to ask where you are! And what if they make a surprise trip to see you? You’re not exactly in a fit shape to fuck right now, are you, Y/N/.”

“MJ -” 

“Fine. If they don’t ask I won’t tell them. Deal?” 

“Okay, deal.”

“Right, you - don’t move. Don’t die. I’ll get you some water and a fan. Or something.”

MJ gets your water first, filling it with ice before rethinking and dumping it down the sink; before stopping again and getting slightly less ice for your glass. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Now with a full drink, and a straw because why not, MJ places it in front of you with the strict instruction to “Sip it, don’t inhale it.” 

She takes your phone when your head is in the sick bowl and vanishes into her bedroom; unlocking it with your passcode and finding the group chat with your girlfriends. 

“Who’s the least terrifying? Natasha, no chance. Carol, maybe…Wanda…you’ll have to do.”

She picks up on the third ring. 

“Hi baby!”

“Hey to you too.” 

“…MJ?”

“Hi, the one and only.”

“Where’s Y/N? Not that I don’t appreciate talking to you but I’d much prefer to talk to my girlfriend.”

“She’s not…well. I told her I wouldn’t tell you but I’m genuinely worried about her.”

“What’s going on?” Natasha’s voice cuts through your phone speaker and MJ wants nothing more than to throw your phone away and hide under the nearest bed. 

“Michelle Jones, talk.” 

“I hate it when you do that.” MJ grumbles. “Y/N’s sick.”

“Sick, how?”

“God, she’s gonna kill me…erm,” MJ pinches the bridge of her nose. “She didn’t drink any water and I’m 90% sure she spent most of her day outside and it’s been super hot and she’s not well and I’m worried about her…I don’t know what to do.” 

Natasha is silent for a moment. 

“Stay with her. We’ll be there as soon as possible, understood? Let her sip, not inhale, at cool water. Not ice cold, it'll shock her system. Is she hot to the touch?” 

“She’s hot, yeah. And not in her usual way either.” 

“Get a damp cloth, that’ll help cool her off.” Natasha orders. “And MJ? Thank you for telling us.”

“Any…anytime I guess. Not that I want Y/N to get heat stroke or whatever it is again, ‘cos it’s scary and stuff but if she ever misbehaves again, you bet your ass I’ll be right on this phone to rat her out. I’ll even spank her for you if you can't get her fast enough.”

“MJ, breathe girl. Get some oxygen into those lungs. We’ll discuss this at a later date when you aren’t so frazzled. We’ll be there soon, okay? 30 minutes, max.” 

“Okay, yeah, okay. Bye.”

“Damp cloth and cool water, MJ.”

“On it.”

MJ’s hands tremble when she returns to you with the items; a regular glass of water in one hand and a semi filled bowl with a wet cloth in the other. She takes the iced water from you and replaces it; ordering you to sip it slowly while she pats your head with the washcloth. 

You do little to fight her.

“I’m not well, MJ.” 

“I know, Y/N/N, I know. But you’re gonna get better soon, yeah? Just try to relax as much as you can. Google says you should start to feel better in 30 minutes or so.”

She places the washcloth on the back of your neck.

It takes you 23 minutes to feel slightly more human.

It takes 24 minutes for the Trio! to get to your apartment. 

You can only stare as they walk inside, eyes locking onto your slouched form on the sofa with a straw between your lips.

You know you’re in for it when you’re better and you nervously swallow, offering them a sheepish smile.

“...hi…”

Wanda stares at your fragile state, a mixture of emotions clouding her eyes, from guilt to a slight twinge of insecurity. She wants to wrap you up and promise to be a better dom; for herself but most importantly for you.

Carol makes a beeline straight for you and starts fussing over you. She caresses your cheek and feels your forehead, frowning slightly, before reaching over for the washcloth. As she dabs at your face, wiping away the tears that tumble from your eyes, Natasha, with Wanda beside her, moves closer and places a gentle kiss on your damp temple. 

“Hey there, little kotenok, how are we feeling, hmm?” 

They’re there. Your trio. There to finally care for you and you instantly feel safe. Comforted by their presence and you reach out, grabbing the nearest body to drag them down on top of you. Wanda’s scent fills your nose and you nestle into her neck. 

“Am I in trouble?” you whisper and you can feel her grinning. 

“Oh yes,” she replies, “but not right now. Tomorrow maybe. But for now, rest sweet girl. We’re here.” 

You can only nod as Carol gently moves Wanda so she can scoop you up into her arms. 

As you’re carried away to your bedroom, you can see Natasha speaking quietly to MJ; and make the mental note to ask her what was said. But for now, you allow yourself to be carried away. Not even five minutes later, nestled against Wanda, you doze off with a smile.  

[eternalflowershipping]

From Y to Y

Ship: AZ x Nerine

Summary: Nerine has an ordinary day. (Or: Tomorrow, I'll Hold Your Hand In Mine but it's from Nerine's POV this time.)

Really simple (despite the length...), I didn't do any edits cuz I'm lazy ^.^

TWs:  some suggestive language, also touches on Nerine’s intense hatred towards her younger self (which also manifests as some hatred towards her current self. Oops!) Alternate link / Neocities link (tba)

When Nerine awoke that morning, she awoke with a yelp. She’d nearly forgotten the events of the previous night, tipsy with champagne as she was. Discovering herself not only on her couch, but within AZ’s arms, was enough to sober her immediately.  He slept on, snoring softly; even when he was young, he had a habit of sleeping until noon on most days. She reached up to touch his face. So pale… I really hope he’s at least trying to take better care of himself.

From behind herself, she felt a large presence. She glanced over her shoulder, only to find Floette floating above her, a mischievous look on her face.

“Oh!” Nerine began, but was quick to cover her mouth. When she continued, she did so in her quietest voice.  “Miss ‘Ette… you should know better than to sneak up on people! A— and besides that, I was simply…” She blushed, and Floette laughed softly in response. Nerine pouted as she stood.

“Well… forget about any of that. Floette, I need to start getting ready for work. Would you like to join me?” Floette nodded, and floated down so she would sit on Nerine’s shoulder. She reached over to gently pet her round head; it was wonderful to see her with so much energy.

Alongside Floette, Nerine began her morning routine: She returned to her bedroom to brush her teeth and take her morning shower. She changed into her uniform, taking note of the fact that it needed a good ironing, but not caring enough to actually do the work. She gave Floette a piece of candy, she found while digging within her purse, then left her bedroom for her kitchen. She made a cup of coffee,  which upon being finished, was immediately diluted with all manner of sugars and caramel syrups, then set aside to cool. She cooked herself breakfast; an omelette with mushrooms and spinach (briefly, she considered if she should make one for her guest as well). She returned to the living room to peer at a still-sleeping AZ, then dragged Floette away when she took out a marker, intending to draw on him. 

It was only when she was about ready to leave when AZ awoke, his expression one of a near-delirious confusion. He squinted, no doubt wondering what it was she held so securely within her hands (Floette, who now sat atop her head, seemed all too excited by the idea of having caffeine). “Aza, good morning!” she said, and AZ blushed in response to it.  “I should have mentioned this last night, but… I have work today, so I’ll be gone.” 

She frowned slightly, her nose scrunching as she pondered her next words.

“Feel free to… make yourself at home? You can help yourself to anything in the kitchen, too. O-or, if you have something else you need to do today, you can… um.”

AZ nodded in understanding. “When will you return home?”  “Well, the museum closes at about 6:30, but I'm planning on stopping somewhere after that, so I might be here closer to 7:00 or 8:00.”

She gulped down her coffee, which had been cooled significantly by a copious amount of milk and cream. Setting aside her mug, she reached downwards to pull on her black heels, which remained at the same location they had been tossed aside the night before. Once she finished, she stood still for a moment… before reaching to pry Floette from her seat atop her head. “I can’t take you to work with me.” she said in a half-scolding voice, “Well, I could, but I think your brother wouldn’t like that.” 

Floette pouted at her words, but was obedient when Nerine decided to place her on top of AZ’s head instead. She giggled at the sight of them together. “I really need to be on my way…” she smiled sheepishly, “I’ll see you later, okay?” “Nerine…” with a stretch, AZ rose to his feet. They had been faced level while he was seated. She was used to feeling quite small when he stood above her like this, and yet it still astounded her at times. He reached to touch her cheek, careful not to ruin the makeup she had meticulously spent the morning doing. She leaned into his touch, her lips slightly parted; the paint she wore gave them a glossy colour. 

“Nerine,” he repeated, “may today be wonderful for you.” Awkwardly, he leaned down just enough to leave a kiss against her forehead. Nerine shivered in response to her, alongside making an odd little noise. “T…thank you.” “I’ll be seeing you.” “Yes, see you…” 

Though her movements were stiff, Nerine dragged herself out of her home, and into Snowbelle’s icy weather. AZ watched her, standing in the doorway as she summoned forth her Corviknight, and clamoured onto its back. She gazed back at him for a moment, and AZ waved her goodbye. Aries was quick to ascend, her wings spreading wide as she flew above the Kalos region. The experience still unnerved Nerine, despite how many years she’d been at it; she never quite got over her fear of heights. With her face buried within Aries’ dark feathers, she awaited the moment they’d land within Lumiose City.

It always caused quite a stir when Aries arrived; Corviknight were an uncommon sight within Kalos, and paired with Lumiose’s infamous “witch,” seeing her often felt like a scene from a fairytale. The old Corviknight quite disliked the attention, however, and was quick to stir up a fuss until the moment Nerine recalled her into her ball. Now standing in front of the museum, she hurried inside. The two young girls who worked the front desk greeted her. “Miss Nerine, you look tired! Did you sleep well?” the shorter of the two asked, then with a grin, continued in a whisper.  “...Did you invite a man over?”

“Of course not.” Nerine scoffed, “I'm much too busy to even think of such things!” the two girls giggled at her reaction, clearly coming to their own conclusions, but Nerine had long elected not to care about their sillier antics. 

She continued on to the backroom of the museum, taking a moment to peer at her reflection within a wall-mirror to ensure her makeup hadn’t gotten messed up.

She set down her purse, her myriad of keychains causing a ruckus with every movement, dusted off any of Aries’ feathers, and stood tall.

Today would be a day like any other. 

A surprise visit from Kalos’ own champion had caused a large amount of guests to swarm in; the museum had recently acquired a new painting of King AZ, and Serena, as well as some of her friends, wanted to talk a look. (“...Why did the artist paint him with such a small nose?” Serena had asked, and Nerine shrugged in response. “I wouldn’t know.” Nerine said. The depiction looked almost nothing like his younger self in truth, but she did not wish to say that to her.  “I know that you faced him once, but I’ve never seen him up close.”)

A large number of visitors made up a tour group. Some were clearing visiting Kalos from other regions, while some were locals drawn in by the chance to meet a celebrity.  In truth she disliked the large crows, but Nerine continued on all the same. She stood before a rendition of the Ultimate Weapon that had been drawn by an artist from the middle ages, based on descriptions from old texts. Besides it was an old replica of the ignition key, a more recent addition to the gallery.

“Up until recently, this weapon was considered a mythological object. A fable to explain the sudden downfall of a once great region. But it turns out fact is stranger than fiction. I'm sure you are all aware that this weapon was dug up, only to be destroyed in these recent years…”

Next, mention how the war led to Kalos falling into a dark age. Don't refer to Xanthos by name; the people of this era are unaware of who he truly is. You did not see Kalos’ fall. Just like everyone else, you learned it from second-hand sources. You are an ordinary woman.

“The past usage of this weapon led Kalos into a period of ruin. The king's younger brother, the very same who had once raged war against him, took on the responsibility of helping Kalos heal, perhaps in repentance for his past actions. This is why he is called the Restoration-King. Here, we see an artist's rendition of what the king's brother may have looked like…”

The painting was in truth an inaccurate one. The detail of Xanthos’ flaming red hair had been lost to time, and so he was typically depicted with the same brown as his brother. His facial moles, round chin, and wide nose were also omitted in favor of a more “traditional” look. The Xanthos of the painting was merely a hardened warrior, while the Xanthos of reality so greatly resembled his own mother. As she gazed at the painting, one of the museum guests raised their hand. “Yes? What would you like to ask?”

“Do you know about that old movie from a while ago? The Folly of Love— that was the title.” The young girl clutched a book against her chest; a historical romance from the looks of it. “The woman in that movie… Was she someone who really existed?” Ah. It wasn’t the first time she’d been asked that question, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. She was used to it. Nerine straightened out her skirt, and replied with proper professionalism. 

“Well… it is difficult to say what is true, and what isn’t, when it comes to the past. It is likely that this woman did exist in some form, but I doubt she was anything as fantastical her counterpart within the film is!”

The group began to chatter amongst itself after Nerine finished answering. Was that movie good? I’ve never watched it. I heard that someone is trying to get the rights to do a remake!  The actress who plays Elodias in that movie is really pretty, but apparently she didn’t look anything like that in real life. Just an average looking girl. I bet the king was just using her, too. Why would he like someone like that? Nerine tightly gripped the fabric of her skirt. It was nothing she hadn’t heard before. She could handle this easily. Another girl raised her hand, and Nerine called on her.

“She was really in love with the king, wasn’t she?” she asked. “But… did the king love her back?”

Nerine tensed in response to the question.  

“That's not…” she began, only for her words to become caught in her throat. She attempted again to speak, but though her lips moved, words would not come out.

What are you doing? Her hand reached to pull at a loose strand of her hair. Acting like that little girl you were. Stop that! You're better than this, aren't you?

“I, erm…” Nerine stammered.  “I… need a moment! I apologize, it is simply— something came up! I will be back soon!”

After calling over one of her co-workers to take over the tour group, Nerine sprinted back downstairs, to the break room.

She found herself with her hands still tugging at her hair. She gripped her own coils tightly, forcing herself to pause.

She dragged herself over to her favourite chair, and sat. She slumped forward with a groan, letting her cheek rest against a cold table.

She was used to hearing such things. Questions that would have been invasive, were they not about someone who was supposed to be long dead. She had perfected her responses; she likely was real, just not in the way she’s often depicted. Modern renditions of her are often influenced by her becoming a symbol for monarchists during the time of Kalos’ revolution. No, it’s unlikely that she played any major role outside of the king enjoying her company. Yes, she supposedly disappeared from the region around the same time the king did. Yes, it was quite foolish of her to follow a man like him, wasn’t it? People make rash decisions when they are blinded by love. Did she love him? Yes, of course. Did he feel the same way towards her? Did he?

Sometimes, she didn’t know what he saw in her. She was plain and simple, with no real special talents of her own. And yet even as he grew into his kingship, he was determined to keep her around. It was possible that what he really loved was the sense of familiarity, and yet he still…

She groaned. Thinking about how she was “back then” made bile rise in her throat. So weak-willed, so easily ignored and forgotten. She spent years crafting a version of herself that would always be heard, even if it required beating her past into submission.

And yet at times, the phantom limbs of Nerine Elodias would grip her, and refuse to let go.

She lifted her head. In a few moments, she would brush her hair back down, fix up her makeup, and would resume her work as if nothing happened. She was, after all, an ordinary woman.

The long hours passed without any further mishaps.Nerine gathered up her belongings, eager to finally head out for the day. She waved goodbye to her co-workers, and headed out into Lumiose’ cool night air.

She gazed down at her watch. 6:40. The sidewalk before her stretched out and onwards. If she remembered correctly, the shop she wished to visit would be about a 15 minute walk.

Will he even still be there when I return? Nerine thought to herself as she made her way to her destination. Her heels had long grown uncomfortable, but she could surely tolerate them for just a moment longer. It may be weeks, or even months before I see him again.

Still, she continued on, and the shop she intended to visit came into view. A clothing boutique located within an old, elaborate building. The last time she visited, she had been shopping for Lysandre.Though it has been some time since then, the place still seemed unchanged. Though some signs of wear existed on the wooden fixtures attached to the boutique, it added to the charm of the design. She entered.

Being later in the day, only a few other patrons seemed to be shopping. A clerk gasped upon recognizing her. Shooing away some of her younger employees, she bounded towards Nerine. “Miss Nerine!” she said, “It’s been ages! You know, I was beginning to expect you’d forgotten about me and this little shop.” “Of course not,” Nerine replied, “I just didn’t have any excuse to come by. At least, not until…” “Not until?”  “Well, I’m… shopping for a friend of mine,” she explained. For some reason, referring to him in that way flustered her. 

“A friend?” the shop clerk's curiosity was clearly piqued. “What kind of friend is he?? Oh— let me rephrase. What kind of style does he go for?”

“He's... very tall, so that makes buying clothes a struggle for him,” Nerine began, “He prefers clothing that's a bit loose. Um…he's had a hard time lately, and hasn't been able to dress how he likes, but I think I would describe his personal style as classy, but comfortable.”

“And he's … a little picky when it comes to colours. He likes orange and green the most.” she paused, suddenly recalling an old memory. “There was one time where someone came to him, offering the finest, embroidered vest, imported from a distant land… but he rejected it simply because it was purple! He said a colour like that would've looked better on me…”

“Did he, now?” the shop clerk gave her a knowing smile. “I’m certain we can find something that suits him! Come along this way— we actually got a new collection in store not too long ago!” Nerine nodded, and followed behind the old woman. This would be a quick venture; she was quite enthused by the idea of returning home.

Though she had only intended to get a few items, the excitement of clothes shopping for the first time in a while overwhelmed her. The bag she now carried was heavy, bagged down with all manner of items. Mostly warm clothing, a variety of knit sweaters, corduroy pants, and even a wool scarf. 

He’d be upset if he knew how much I spent on him… Nerine sighed as she dragged herself over to a park bench to rest. But I don’t care. He can’t keep wearing those rags forever! The bench made an exaggerated groan when she sat on it, causing Nerine to frown. It would be just my luck if it broke now, wouldn’t it…?

As she sat, Nerine reached into the bag containing an assortment of clothing items, until she clutched an oversized sweater. Bundling it into her arms, and buried her face against it. The slightly floral scent of an expensive shopping center still clung to it. It was a great contrast from AZ, who up until the moment she made him bathe, smelled of dirt, sweat, and old clothing. She didn't mind it as much as she should have. Even as she washed his usual rags the night before, she found herself hugging his favourite green scarf.

Though she had invited him to come and visit, she was still surprised when he actually appeared on her doorstep, rain soaked and wall-eyed. Before she heard his knocking, she'd drifted off to sleep while watching her favourite show— a rather frequent experience for her.

Sometimes, she struggled to remember he was once a king. His shabby, pitiful appearance hid a powerful sense of will. The strength to bring his dearest friend back from death, then to spend the next 3000 years searching for her.

She often wondered about him. His lonely existence, his constant longing. A love that was wider than an ocean, and just as deep.

She would be lying if she said she could comprehend his dedication. She loved Floette as well, and always had. But his devotion was something far more powerful than a simple girl like her could wrap her head around.

I care about her as well. His grief when she passed… I felt it as well. Nerine clutched the sweater closer. She remembered the feeling of her arms around his body, and the alarm she felt as his frailness — as if at any moment, he would waste away. I would never wish him apart from her; a symbol of his mother's adoration for him. But I do wonder if there's any room for me in that heart of his. I think there was, once upon a time. But now…

Nerine turned her gaze skywards, where the new moon rose high above. She had made her life full in order to forget her want, but now that things were slow again, she could think of nothing but desire.

With a sigh, she summoned Aries from her Pokeball. Clutching her shopping bag in one hand, she climbed the Corviknight’s back, and ascended into the starry sky.

Back at her home, Nerine pushed open the old manor door, her limbs weary. “It is freezing today…” she sighed.  She kicked off her heels, and tossed aside her vest and the hairbow she wore with her work uniform.

She expected the usual; to be greeted with a mew from Clytie in an otherwise quiet house.To her surprise, her TV was on, playing a dull film. And not only that, the scent that lingered in the air was a delicious one, rich and buttery.

“It smells good in here…” but why…? Curious, she made her way over to the dining room. “Aza…?” She curiously peeked inside the room at first, then a soft oh! escaped her. AZ stood near the dining table, which had been decorated in her finer dishware. Sweet champagne accompanied a plate of pasta that had been set out for her. 

“Nerine…” AZ coughed into his hand, his face reddening. Despite all the work he’d put into preparing dinner for her, he was still dressed in his pajamas.  “Floette and I wished to thank you for your kindness the other night, and so, we have made you dinner. I hope everything is to your tastes…”  “O-oh! That's … that's very sweet of you.” Nerine said. She swayed gently, uncertain of what more to say. She was surprised to even see him, let alone have a home cooked meal from him. “Of course… I am eternally your servant.”

Nerine blushed, her gaze focused down at the floor. “I’m going to go get changed before I sit down and eat, but… here, this is for you.” She thrust the shopping bag into his arms, and watched as AZ’s arms slumped with the weight of it.. He peered into it, his head slightly tilted, and lifted the new scarf she’d purchased from within it.

“I know I probably should have told you what I was planning on doing,” Nerine began,  “But I know you would’ve tried to stop  me. Said it’s something you don’t deserve. Well, to me, it’s not a matter of whether or not you deserve it. It’s simply… something I wanted to do for you as someone who cares about you. I hope you can accept it.”

“Ah… thank you.” He smiled, warm and gentle. She felt her heart racing at the sight of it. “For you, Lady Nerine, I will try to believe that I am worthy of such kindness.” Nerine nodded in response. She was quick to rush off to her bedroom, hoping to hide her own excitement. He does care about me! Her mind was a twisted knot of thoughts, though few were comprehensible to her. I knew that. Of course he cares about me! So why was it so hard to…?

Nerine slipped into her favourite nightgown, intending to match AZ’s own casual style. She laughed to herself, surprised by her own eagerness. It wouldn’t be their first time sharing a meal together, but hopefully it wouldn’t be their last. I hope he knows I appreciate him, too… 

When she returned to the dining room, she found AZ already seated, waiting for her. He glanced at her shoulder, where the strap of her nightgown had fallen aside, then looked away with a cough. She sat across from him, and found she couldn’t keep herself from smiling. “The champion came by today, as well as some of her friends…” Nerine began, “They heard the museum had recently been donated a new painting of you, and wanted to see it…”

After dinner, Nerine had intended to retire for the night. Instead, she was laying in her bed, staring straight up at the ceiling. He stayed for her. He did something kind for her. She had kissed her forehead that morning, and when she sat to join him later, she saw the brief look of desire he’d given her. In his old age, he’d become much more timid. In the past, he was always so eager to sneak away with her. To kiss her in the halls of the palace that saw little use, and hold her close. Of course, she understood why he had changed. 3000 years spent desiring a single thing, and just now relearning how to have other wants. Still, she could not help but to think of the deep contrast between then and now. 

On her bed, Clytie was curled up into a ball, snoring. Nerine reached over to stroke her, and watched as she woke up, then stretched her long body out. “You’ve always been a light sleeper, haven’t you?” she said. “You’ll even wake up if I move even just a little bit.” She reached over, pulling Clytie closer onto her lap. The Espeon mewed in response, her voice pitching as if she were asking a question.

“Do you think he's awake, too? He probably is. His sleep schedule is a mess…” Nerine lifted Clytie above her head. In response, the Espeon made a soft noise of complaint. “Do you think I should go see him? I should, shouldn't I?” 

Nerine set Clytie down beside her, and planted a small kiss onto her forehead before standing up from her bed.

As she predicted, she saw a soft glow from her living room; the sign of the TV still being on. Slowly, she walked over, her footsteps soft so that she would not disturb him. AZ was spread out on her couch, his long legs awkwardly dangling over the floor. On the coffee table, Floette attempted to stay focused on the film they watched together, but was clearly struggling.

When AZ noticed her, he lifted his head slightly in acknowledgement. 

“I was wondering if you would still be awake… I tried to sleep, but as you can see, it didn’t work out…”, she yawned, “what are you watching?”

“I’m not sure,” AZ admitted, and Nerine laughed at his blunt answer.

She pondered for a moment, then came closer to him. Her eyes scanned over his body; from the lazy ponytail he'd put his untamed hair in, to his comfortable sweater which, while oversized, did not fully cover his arms.  Some day, she would take his measurements and get him something custom made, she concluded.

Silently, she crawled into his lap and laid her head against his shoulder. She could feel AZ shift, and suddenly his hand was attached to the back of her head, idly playing with her soft curls.

“I am overjoyed to have you in my arms again,” he sighed. She could feel her face warm at his statement, and the sense of want dripping from his voice. “ when I awoke this morning to find you gone, I felt somewhat distressed...”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” Nerine replied, “I didn’t want to wake you…I know you have trouble sleeping some days.”

“And I would not want you to be late for work for my sake! I will have to refresh myself on your schedule.”

“I’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” Nerine said with a nod, “I have no desire to talk about my job  right now.”

She glanced towards the TV. A romantic scene played as a blood-soaked and haggard warrior embraced his deceased lover, the sickly colour of poison clinging to her lip. When she gazed at Floette laid out on the table, she’d finally fallen asleep.  

“...You know, I expected to come back and find you gone. You never liked to stay in one place for long, especially if it wasn’t a necessity for you.” Nerine drummed her fingers against his shoulder, her voice nearly inaudible. “I didn’t want you to. I hoped you would stay.”

“Is that so?”

“N— not that I would have been upset if you had somewhere else to be! I just…”

“I’m glad,” he interrupted, “I had assumed you would be happier were I to leave; I do not wish to be a bother to you. I am glad that you enjoy my presence.”

“Of course. We’re…” Nerine paused, frowning. “Well, we’re rather close, aren’t we?”

“Very close,” AZ agreed. He lifted her chin so that her gaze would be fixed on him. Her breath hitched, her bottom lip wavering. His thumb brushed gently over her lip, pressing into the soft, pink-toned skin. “I am glad to be close to you, my Nerine.”

She watched his mouth part with an inaudible gasp, as if he'd recalled something. His own eyes gazed back at her with a rare gentleness.

He leaned towards her, and Nerine did the same; their lips met, and Nerine felt electricity running down her spine, filling every small nook of her being. She whimpered against him, and prayed he did not hear it.

“I apologize…” AZ said in a hushed whisper, “I find it difficult to restrain myself around you.”

“It’s…” Nerine began, though her voice cracked. “It’s fine…”

Unsure of what more to say, hid her face in the fabric of his sweater. She could hear him laugh softly before resting his hands on her lower back in a loose hug. It was almost strange. They’d spent so long apart, and yet interacting with him like this… it felt as if she had truly come home. 

…it would be okay if he stayed for just a little bit longer, wouldn't it…?

[miyagifangkai]

Coffee and Cigarettes

Requested: by anon

Summary: You work at a slow diner in the dead of winter. Through the boring nights you meet someone.

Character: Adam Stanheight

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Honestly none. It’s fluffy. Tons of dialogue lol! Honestly not completely proofread

A/N: this was super fun to write. Hope you all like it. Thank you so much for reading, honestly. 💕

The night was cold. Freezing to be exact. Your fingers were numb and you could see your breath with every exhale. You started to quicken your pace as the wind started to pick up. It was starting to flurry snow and you could tell that it was going to start sleeting soon.

You didn’t live too far away from your job but on nights like this it felt like miles. You didn’t have enough money for a cab since it was a slow night at the cafe but you still chose to go home early tonight.

As you were walking you couldn’t help but think about your shift, specifically a customer you had. A thin brunette man who stayed most of the evening. He was charming but awkward; funny but erratic in some ways. You weren’t sure if it was too much caffeine that he had consumed after his four cups of coffee, the total of creams and sugars running through his system, or the copious amounts of nicotine that he had smoked; but he always greeted you with wide eyes, blown pupils, and a slightly goofy lopsided grin with every word you spoke to him.

“More coffee?”

He looks up at you with a cigarette in hand and a small smile, “Yes, please.”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him, “Of course,” you pour more coffee in his cup.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” your heart jumped when he said this.

It had been a few hours of him sitting in the cafe looking through a scrapbook of what you were assuming was pictures that he had taken.

It was dead so you decided to ask, “It’s none of my business but what are you looking at?”

He slightly scoffs, “Oh, this?” He looks down and points at the book with a shaky hand that was opened on a page with a picture of a middle aged man, smiling, walking to his car, “it’s work.”

“You keep your work in a scrapbook?”

He looks back up at you, “Yeah. Just the ones I like. The ones with mystery.”

You shake your head letting him know that you understand what he was talking about, “Huh, that’s cool! Kinda like a detective?”

Looking back down at his scrapbook he chuckles and shrugs his shoulders, “Sure, something like that.”

You smile again at him, “Sure, do you need anymore cream or sugar?”

“Sugar, please.”

You reach in your pocket and hand him a few packets of sugar, “So, you’ve been here for a bit,” he looks back up at you with slight anticipation, “what’s your name?”

You could tell that he was struggling with something to say to you or maybe he was contemplating on if he wanted to smile at you or take another drag of his cigarette but he finally settles on, “Adam.”

“Well, hello Adam!” You say sounding embarrassingly excited.

This time he smiles and almost laughs, “Hello.. uh.. Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, honey. Let me know if you need anything else,” you gave him your award winning smile.

He reciprocates, “Thanks.”

You approach the door at your apartment building and unlock the door. You walk inside and close the door letting out a breath already starting to warm up. You decided to take a warm shower and make something small to eat. You couldn’t help but think about him again. Your thoughts becoming consumed by him. You wondered if he would show up again and when? You got excited about the thought of seeing his smile and hearing his voice.

As you’re on your way back to work the following evening your thoughts are still crowded with memories of him. The sunset painted the sky with pink and purple watercolors. You always loved a pretty sunset after a snow which is why you chose to walk to work again.

You still wondered if he would come by and hang around for most of your shift again. The roads were covered in ice and a light layer of snow; you had a feeling it would be another dead shift. Cold snowy nights like this never brought in anybody because most sane people wanted to stay home in the warmth.

You arrive and clock in and you are greeted to one table. The shift was boring. You even had time to eat some dinner and a piece of pie while balancing your nonexistent tables. You were cleaning the front counter when you see him approach the front door. You feel your heartbeat quicken and you begin to develop a head rush. You thought about how ridiculous you are being! You have a crush! You walk back behind the counter and keep cleaning trying to act nonchalant as he approaches one of the seats right in front of you.

“Hey! Welcome in,” you greet Adam, “back so soon?”

“Yes, I couldn’t get enough of that delicious coffee,” Adam takes a seat and lights up a cigarette.

You chuckle, “I’m guessing you’re wanting some more coffee, huh?”

“Please,” he says with a small smile.

“Cream? Sugar?”

“Read my mind.”

You pour him a cup, “So, you don’t have your scrapbook tonight?”

“No. I didn’t bring it. I needed to escape from the chaos tonight,” he shrugs.

You put the cup and the sugars and creams in front of him and slightly lean on the counter, “Understandable. It certainly is peaceful in here tonight.”

Adam takes another drag of his cigarette, “No kidding.”

“Yeah, I’d rather it be busy it makes the time go by faster plus I get more money.”

Adam leans more on the counter as well with a slight smirk, “but then you wouldn’t be able to talk to me.”

You two are practically centimeters apart and you didn’t know what to say. All of the breath, thoughts, and words have left your body. All you were left with was the sound of your heartbeat and the smell of Adam’s cigarette smoke.

Adam’s eyes slowly lower down taking in every aspect of you as he leans back in his seat and takes a sip of his coffee.

“So, Y/N, what’s your hobbies?” his voice laced with less intensity, “you know mine.”

You start to shake off your nerves, “Nothing really. I work and come home and sleep,” you laugh, “is sleeping a hobby?”

Adam chuckles, “not really, but it can be.”

You two share a laugh and you decide to pour yourself some coffee as well, “can I bum a smoke?”

Adam raises an eyebrow, “you smoke?”

“Yeah, on occasion, I’m not proud of it.”

Adam hands you a cigarette and you place it inbetween your lips, “C’mere,” you lean down and Adam lights your cigarette for you.

“Thanks.”

Adam smiles, “Don’t mention it.”

“Okay, so, you got a girlfriend? Or… boyfriend?”

“Ha! No. No girlfriend,” Adam smiles, “or boyfriend.”

You nod and take another puff, “good,” you exhale.

“And you?”

“Dude I literally said that sleeping was a hobby so,” you shrug.

You put out your cigarette as a few more people walk in and sit down at a table, “duty calls,” you saunter away from Adam. You felt his eyes practically looking right through you and you smile to yourself with satisfaction.

As you were helping your other table you see Adam get up, leave a tip, and write something down on a napkin in your peripheral vision. You were so focused on him that you practically missed everyone’s order at the table. You get their orders and walk back behind the counter to read his note.

“Sorry I had to dip. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow night? He’s going to come back again? Oh gosh, you’ll so have to fix your hair tomorrow!

The next evening rolls around and you are back on your way to work for another graveyard shift. You had bought yourself another pack of cigarettes, ugh, damn you Adam. You clock in and do the usual cleaning and preparations for the night. Dead, as usual. Sometimes you wondered how this place stayed open especially during the winter nights.

You decided to step outside to have a smoke while you waited for someone to come in. That’s when you see him. Slowly approaching the front doors with a cigarette and scrapbook in hand.

“Howdy stranger,” you greet, “got your scrapbook tonight, I see.”

“Hey, yeah, I decided to bring it with me to look at while you were with your other tables.”

You feel a slight blush creep up on your face, “Cute. Want some coffee?”

“Lead the way!”

He opens the door for you and you walk back into the practically abandoned cafe and he takes a seat while you pour you and him coffee.

“Ya know, I’m growing pretty fond of our little coffee dates,” he says with a smile.

You felt your blush grow deeper, “Dates?”

“Want some pie?”

You shake your head, “Nice switch of topic there. And yes I’d love to have some pie.”

You put a slice of pie on a plate and scoot it towards him. You hand him a fork and his fingers softly brush yours. Even though they were cold it still filled you with warmth and you felt at this point that you were going to melt. The smell of coffee and nicotine becoming a drug to you. You just couldn’t get enough of him. You walk back around the counter and take a seat beside him. You two were close, almost brushing shoulders. God, how bad you wanted him to touch you. You wanted to feel his lips against yours, his tongue in your mouth, him pinning your arms behind your head against the wall as you practically gasp for air. Fuck, you wanted him.

You interrupt your thoughts, “So this is a date, huh?”

Adam lights another cigarette, “I’d hope so.”

You smile trying your absolute best to avoid the blush that was on your face but he couldn’t avoid it. He just kept looking at you with a smirk on his face.

You two sat there in the peaceful silence for a bit and enjoyed your coffee and pie, even though Adam chose his cigarette over food. You two would steal glances at each other every now and then for some reason you couldn’t find any words to say and neither could he.

As you look back at him he puts his hand on your cheek and asks, “is this okay?”

“Yes,” is all you could mutter.

You both lean in and finally connect lips. You felt like all the planets had aligned and all the stars had blew up at the same time. You place your hands atop his shoulders for stability making sure that you don’t fall over or you felt like you might start floating. The taste of him was intoxicating, exactly what you thought. He smelled of cheap aftershave and smoke and you wanted more of it. You couldn’t get enough of it. All you wanted was him and only him in this moment.

His shaky hand takes hold of yours as you two deepen the kiss and all you could think about in this moment was how he would touch you, feel you, and savor you.

If only this moment could last forever. Until the bell on top of door rings and you two quickly separate.

You had forgotten that you were at work.

“Holy shit, I really hope the kitchen doesn’t tell on me for that.”

“Yeah, wow, I’m so sorry.”

You hastily stand up and say, “Don’t be sorry. Thank you.”

Adam laughs and you walk away before he can say anything else; grabbing your notepad to go take your new tables order. After you take their order and hand it in to the kitchen he’s gone. Leaving a tip and another note.

“Stellar date. Hope we can do it again sometime. I’ll see you soon.”

Your heartbeat quickens but also you feel a twinge of sadness. You wondered why he wouldn’t give you a proper goodbye… but some people just weren’t that good with goodbyes you had guessed.

Either way you would have to wait for tomorrow to see if he’d show up again.

You counted the minutes until tomorrow evening and here you were.

Finally at work.

You never thought you’d be excited to go to work but here you were. You were wiping down the counter when you heard the bell ring, the door swing open, and you see him. He looks at you with his cigarette in hand and he smiles at you.

“Adam!”

“Hey there,” he exhales.

“Coffee?”

“You know me so well.”

“Of course I do.”

“And that’s what I like about you so much.”

You hand him his coffee and look him in the eyes, “I like you too.”

[gilverrwrites]

Bat-Fam Matchup for: Blue Sugar I ship you with: Tim Drake Match-ups currently: only available via exchange or commison only.

Pretty, pretty boy, just how you like em. I can immediately see the 2 of you bonding over your shared love of academia, copious amounts of caffeine (particularly boba) and photography/videography.

Robin duties dependant, he'd love visiting museums and galleries for your, so long as you have the time to wait on him reading every single plaque, leaflet, or piece of information. As well as taking you to the movies. He'll happily help study when he can.

Tropes:

Slowburn

Friends to lovers  

Chill/Sunshine

Playlist:

You're My Best Friend Queen

Would You Be So Kind? Dodie

Cloud 9 Beach Bunny

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 17

It had been just the thing to lighten the mood after the big argument that had broken out between Lambert and Coen over Lambert casting Fireball for everything.

"You can't just cast Fireball for everything!" Coen had shouted, frustrated. "You just incinerated a whole f***ing barn!"

"And?" Lambert had sniffed.

"You just burnt all the poor farmer's cows!"

"Look on the bright side, now we have dinner taken care of!"

Coen had thrown his dice at Lambert and Jaskier decided that maybe they needed a break from D&D for a little bit.

"Let's put this on pause for now." Jaskier had suggested, "I've got an idea for a game we can play!" and a few minutes later, they were all standing around in the kitchen with bottles of water and Jaskier was handing out tortillas.

Geralt regarded his tortilla critically as the bard explained the rules. The game sounded so stupid. There wasn't much to it, and it didn't really sound like all that much fun. He was strongly considering just dipping out and finding something else to do.

But then Jaskier, mouth full of water, slapped Coen in the face with his tortilla, and immediately started laughing, spraying water all over Coen. The bald Witcher snorted and spat his water out all over the floor. The Kaer Morons burst into laughter.

Ok, maybe this game was going to be more entertaining than he'd thought. Geralt, throwing caution to the wind, decided to play. The Morons stood in a circle, a bottle was spun to pick the two opponents, and then the rivals faced each other.

Lambert and Geralt were glaring at each other, determined not to laugh. Geralt raised his tortilla and backhanded Lambert with it.

Lambert: *angry mumbling noises*

Geralt: *evil chuckle*

Lambert wound up and slapped Geralt so hard that his tortilla flew apart. They stood glaring at each other, cheeks bulging, making various angry grunts at each other. There was a second of stillness before they were throttling each other, spraying water and insults all over. Coen and Eskel broke up the fight, the round was deemed a draw, and the game continued.

Eskel and Jaskier faced off next. Jaskier was just moving his arm to smack Eskel, when the Witcher stuck his long arm out and gently hit him on the nose, making a soft hooting sound.

*Boop!*

Jaskier spat his water out laughing and cussing,"You b**tart!", while slapping Eskel on the cheek with his tortilla.

Eskel giggled around his mouthful of water, but didn't spit it out. The other Morons cheered, and Eskel moved on to the next round. He was disqualified several rounds later, after it was discovered that he was cheating. The clever b**tard had been only pretending to have water in his mouth.

Aiden had a turn, and took Lambert down with ease, using a lighting quick double slap that had Lambert ejecting his water just so he could swear at him. It was several minutes before everyone could stop laughing and continue the game.

It became hard not to laugh for some reason. It should have been an easy thing. Perhaps it was because everyone was so d*mn serious about the game. Or maybe, it was the copious amounts of soft drinks that had been consumed.

The combination of caffeine and sugar was setting off happy fireworks of dopamine in their brains.

On some rounds, merely facing an opponent was enough to cause one or both to spit out their water. It didn't help when the person you were facing was making all manner of noises and pulling weird faces as they fought not to lose their sh*t.

Like right now. Jaskier was facing off against Geralt, shoulders shaking, and frowning determinedly. He was having a really hard time not laughing. It was extremely difficult with how Geralt was standing there, eyes watering, red-faced, and with his cheeks puffed out. One of his eyes was starting to twitch from the strain.

Jaskier's brain, always seeing things from an imaginative point of view, decided to focus on the way Geralt's lips were puckered.

It nudged Jaskier and whispered "His lips look like a prolapsed ar**hole on a duck!" Jaskier started giggling in short little bursts, trying to keep his mouth shut tight.

Geralt saw the look on Jaskier's face. The pinched up look of a man fighting for his life. The grin was trying to pry his lips apart, causing his mouth to do a complicated wriggle. Geralt couldn't help it. He began making a sound. A loud, humming sound that came out in short bursts that sounded familiar. Jaskier recognized it instantly.

It was a sound he'd heard Geralt make before. The same sound that was always accompanied by the mental image of twinkies, and which still made Jaskier sit up in the middle of the night and laugh his a** off. Water shot out of Jaskier's nose as he snorted, coughed, and then choked out, "F***ing Seal Laugh!"

Geralt stood there making that closed mouth barking sound and pointing at Jaskier. It was clearly a triumphant gesture. Jaskier's arm snapped out and smacked Geralt on the head with his tortilla, and the Witcher spat his water out.

Yennefer returned from getting her nails done, and found the Kaer Morons and Jaskier standing in a circle in the kitchen, taking turns slapping each other in the face with flatbread.

"Why is my kitchen floor soaking wet--and what the ever-loving f**k are you a**wipes doing with my tortillas? Those are for tomorrow! Look at this mess, there's water and piles of crumbs every where!"

Lambert, brain sparking and fizzing with sugar and caffeine, decided it would be a great idea to open his mouth and snap "F**k off, witch! We're busy!"

No one could quite remember how it happened, but the next thing they all knew, they were all on their hands and knees, picking up every last piece of tortilla shrapnel, and thoroughly scrubbing the kitchen floor with toothbrushes.

[riddles-n-games]

Here it is, the headcanon that you've all been waiting for but you didn't know that you were waiting for: that age old debate of coffee or tea, Hawthorne edition.

Nash-This cowboy enjoys a good calming green tea out on the balcony at dawn, watching the sunrise on those days where it just hits in that way as the sun comes out over the Black Wood. Though, he absolutely loves very sugary lattes for whatever reason and Alisa used to wonder how it straight up didn't stop his heart. He goes out with Xander on these outings where if they're experiencing this need for caffeine and really don't want anything from the chef's kitchen, they go out for coffee at any random cafe they can find and they usually like going to different ones for experimentation purposes; Nash for his lattes and Xander for his mocha/chocolate iced drinks. They both love going out on these ventures and it's another favorite brotherly bonding activity. Anytime that Alisa becomes aware of these outings, she warns Libby to not make any cupcakes so that Nash doesn't get a severe sugar rush and it's just come to the point where both Libs and Alisa are terribly concerned that this man might get a heart attack so they've took it upon themselves to be his intervention tag team. It's a very tumultuous effort on their part.

Grayson-He actually prefers either given at any time but it does sometimes get event-dependent based on the intended outcome of his goals. If he wants to feel relaxed and refreshed, he drinks tea at a gala or charity dinner but in the case of working a late night for the foundation or his own homework, he needs coffee. He drinks copious amounts of black coffee when the stress of his work gets too great. One time it go so bad during a large project that his grandfather assigned him that in the middle of one of his work nights, he literally threw the mug of black coffee at his face he was so tired and drained. Nash went to check on him that next day to see if he was fine but found him asleep at his desk with coffee stains on Gray's usually pristine white shirt and sticky remnants on his face and then went to see the security footage. The older Hawthorne never told a soul and to this day, not even Grayson knows that it exists because Nash erased it from the cameras or that Nash saw him in his unruly state. As ironic as its sounds, when it comes to tea, his favorite flavor is Earl Grey (come on, you all saw that coming, right?) but he also loves a hazelnut roast with a sprinkle of apple cinnamon. He'd also never let anyone know this but he actually sometimes secretly buys himself a pumpkin spice latte anonymously because he's a sucker for it during the fall.

Jameson-Coffee through and through. He loves a good espresso and on occasion, if Nash is nowhere in sight and he needs an alcohol boost to get through the day, he sneaks in a shot of Bailey's. But, Jamie does have an oddly specific order for cold brews whenever Nash and Xander go on one of their caffeine-fueled urge adventures (yes, that's what they're called, according to Alisa, that is).

Xander-Forget coffee, he actually enjoys drinking hot chocolate more, specifically with milk, never hot water. He finds it absolutely disrespectful and sacrilegious to do this as it's always been referred in alternate terms as chocolate milk not chocolate water. This boy, being the genius he is, literally created an entire machine that actually can detect if a hot cocoa drink is made with milk or water; yes, he's that passionate and picky about this. Xan will debate on this topic very heatedly and most often than not it's one of the only opinion-based subjects that get him really going off. But yeah, when he's actually working in the middle of the night of an ongoing project that's likely lasted at least a few days with each one being an all-nighter, he gets black coffee and drinks two cups worth straight from the pot. Though, he loves trying out the different iced caffeinated drinks with chocolate or mocha flavors during summer.

[ilovefakecarts]

oftentimes better for a soda to have copious amounts of sugar versus copious amounts of caffeine

[trickstarbrave]

i was not really keeping up on my supplements when i was horribly ill because i could barely eat anything let alone take 50 pills a fucking day but now my hormones are reallyyyyyyyy fucked up i am ravenously hungry bc my insulin sensitivity is being a bitch again. stress drinking copious amounts of dr pepper bc sugar makes dopamine go up and caffeine makes anxiety go down is also not helping

[morgan-the-lonely-brick]

Mother will see me buy two energy drinks to get me through the next three upcoming weeks of studying and act like I just showed her an image of a puppy I killed like wtf.

When I ask, she can't even explain why it's So so so sosooo bad for me to have even One!!! Drink. She doesn't even know what could PoTenatiaLy be dangerous in an energy drink, like what substance is the issue. (I do know: high caffeine, fuckload of sugar, aditives, etc.) But most of these are fine if you're otherwise healthy and don't drink one energy drink or more a day.

She just has the 'energy drink = bad and evil and poison' equation in her head and can't get past it. (But she will happily consume copious amounts of alcohol when she has a deadline on an art project)

On one hand I understand she might be afraid for me but also I am 21. I think I can weigh the pros and cons myself.

[talesofkhaos]

Spencer's day revolves around his coffee ritual, as he finds it essential for jumpstarting his creative thinking. Without his regular dose of caffeine, he often experiences a throbbing headache that disrupts his focus and productivity. This dependency has become a well-known quirk among his friends, who often joke that coffee is his secret fuel. His friends are also amused by his penchant for sweetening his brew with copious amounts of sugar and light cream. Spencer insists that this combination brings out the perfect balance of flavors, even if it means his coffee resembles dessert more than a morning beverage. Despite the teasing, he remains unapologetic about his sugary concoction, claiming it fuels his brilliance. After all, candy and sweets are banned at the BAU offices after Spencer inadvertently attracted ants by leaving too many candy wrappers on his desk. His colleagues teased him mercilessly about the incident, but he took it in stride, joking that the ants were simply drawn to his genius. Now, he tries to be more discreet with his sugary coffee, ensuring no evidence is left behind.

[senjutsunade]

~Detective AU - Food Head Canons~

#Blind Incandescence

Because its a work place and food is the only thing that makes getting through the daily routine worthwhile.

Note: From the collective chaos that are Narnian Inhabitants. Shared HC's between myself (Typo Queen - TQ), @konohagakurekakashi (Finger Seizure - FS) and @uchihaa-itachi (Crazy Insomniac - CI).

Kakashi:

Drinks of choice:- Kakashi does not have time on his side. He is always, always late for absolutely everything, so there are no spare minutes to order fancy coffees/teas/drinks. Most of the time he just settles for what he can get out of the vending machine, flickering in the lobby of his apartment building. Mostly it's a variety of Ooi Ocha green tea, jasmine or hot lemon, being his preference. And in the summer months he'll opt for Mugi-cha. He doesn't drink energy drinks or sodas, since they're too sweet. The only coffee he drinks is from their trusty, office coffee maker-kun when the hours get too long. Breakfast of choice: Tamago Kake Gohan Lunch of choice: Most of the time he has a proper bento lunch which he packed the night before, out of fear that he might have to digest cup ramen or (Kami forbid) some powdery dessert for lunch. If he was too lazy to do grocery shopping for the week or ran even later than usual, he'll brave Genma's gross flirting with sandwich-stand-girl, to get a sandwich. Dinner: He's the guy that demands some form of vegetable on the pizza (No. Tomato, mushroom and onions do not count). Read eggplant or artichoke.

Tsunade:

Drink: Anything with alcohol in it. If that isn’t an option - coke. A lot of it. Like dangerous quantities of it. She loves her fancy coffee's though - if she can find the time to get those so the task usually falls on Jiraiya and Orochimaru to be the providers. Honestly though, she'd drink anything with caffeine and copious amounts of sugar in it.  Breakfast: Pancakes/waffles. Drowning in syrup.  Lunch: If she is left to her own devices -it is the dessert she stole out of Orochimaru's lunch box (he swears she hired him only so she could do that) or whatever she can get out of the stupid vending machine - said machine despises her and is known to have eaten many a coin with no product to show for the worth.  Dinner would be picking out the disgusting pieces of eggplant off her pizza - alongside most of the other vegetables. She does it with a lot of skill along with an extremely disgusted face. And flings them across the room with annoyingly perfect accuracy….especially if Genma happens to be in the vicinity. Like WHY do they bother with toppings? Stick to extra cheese.  If she’s home, it's mostly expired instant ramen cups. She can not cook. You don’t want her to try. She will set things on fire and whatever she concocts will be a health hazard. 

Itachi:

Drink: Tea. Mostly Earl Grey (Twinnings no9) or Darjeeling; unsweetened and warm. Unsweetened black coffee is his drink of choice in the office. In the later hours he will pivot towards herbal blends (this becomes more pronounced once Naruto joins them. Too much black coffee is not good for his blood pressure, ne).  Breakfast: Pancakes with half the bottle of syrup, whipped cream, chocolate shavings and sprinkles. Exactly one strawberry on top for aesthetics. Alternatively, an almond croissant. Lunch: A blend of anything he considers nutritious enough (read: sauteed vegetables with some protein or a sandwich). He doesn't care much for food and simply sees it as a way of sustenance -- though he does have his favorites. That being said, he always has a proper dessert (dango, mochi, cheesecake, etc) stowed away in the fridge. Anyone who touches it will face his wrath via perfectly pointy pencils. Dinner: Usually skipped. Unless his mother is around -- then he'll have some fruit.

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

When he's not plotting, scheming, and doing messed up experiments, he tends to spend his time gardening or meditating to keep his head clear.

Health-conscious. Tends to cook for himself. Gets most of his protein from eggs, fish, beans, and tofu. Avoids refined sugars except in social settings. His primary vice is caffeine - has coffee on a regimented schedule.

Speaking of which, slightly obsessed with routine. He allows himself some flexibility, but day-to-day prefers to keep things structured. Keeps an agenda that makes copious use of shorthand so that it's basically illegible to anyone who doesn't spend an egregious amount of time code-cracking.