#I’m normal about all of these sitcoms

[sadquickchristmassnowman]

they’re……. right behind me, aren’t they ☝🏻🤨

[narumi-gens]

Platonic

Miya Osamu x f!Reader

summary: Osamu knows that there’s nothing going on between you and his brother. And yet, he still can’t help but be jealous.

warnings: minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, don't let the summary fool you – this is basically just 4k words of fluff, jealous!osamu, slightly insecure!osamu, married!osamu, dad!osamu, very normal relationship problems, the importance of communication, kita is always the voice of wisdom, osamu is really just a simp for you, reader and osamu are #CoupleGoals

notes: whenever I’m trying to get back into writing, stealing plots from sitcoms is always a guarantee so everything from the title to the banner to the plot is at least 80% lifted from platonic (which is such a wonderful show).

words: 4k

part of the Meet the Miyas series

Osamu is jealous. And he hates it. He hates the word. He hates the feeling. He hates what it says about him. He really hates how irrational it is.

But what he hates most is that the person that he's jealous of is his own brother (that scrub).

But maybe he's the scrub. Because it's dumb. You've been together for years. You trust him. You love him. You're committed to him. You're married to him. You’re the mother of his child. You're happy with the life that you've built together.��

And he knows that Atsumu is your best friend. You were Atsumu's friend before he even met you. Atsumu is the one who introduced the two of you, who set you up — which he'll never stop taking credit for if his speech at your wedding was anything to go by. So of course you spend a significant amount of time with his twin. 

It’s never really bothered him before. If anything, he’s typically relieved that you’re so close with Atsumu. The more you occupy the setter’s time, the less time he has to annoy Osamu. 

And you’re allowed to have friends and a life outside of being a wife and mother. He wants you to have fun and to be your own person outside of your relationship with him. He doesn’t expect you to go from home to work and back to repeat the cycle all over again the next day. Not that you would ever allow it. 

It wasn’t easy and it took a lot of hard work, but over the years, the two of you have built a happy balance between him running the restaurant, you pursuing your own thriving career, being doting parents to a three-year-old son, and still managing to keep your marriage healthy. So this gross feeling of jealousy has no place in his life, especially where Atsumu is concerned. 

But it creeps up on him slowly, needling its way into him before he even has a chance to stop it. He first feels it over something so small that it embarrasses him. 

He asks you if you want to go see a new movie that’s been advertised for months. His mom and yours are always eager to babysit — sometimes eager to the point of forcing you both out of the house for what’s declared “much-needed grandparent time.” 

“Oh, I promised Atsumu that I’d see it with him,” you reply with a slight tilt of your head before picking up your phone. “Let me check with him about us all going together.”

It’s a simple and obvious solution. You’ve already sent your message to Atsumu and are looking up showtimes for that weekend. But there’s a small voice in the back of Osamu’s head insisting that you should be asking him if Atsumu can come with the two of you, not the other way around. The unfamiliar thought makes him feel uncomfortable and he quickly shoves it away.

But just that small, intrusive voice is like a spark and it isn’t long before he finds himself hearing it again, fanning the pathetic, weak flame into something stronger.

One morning, he’s pulled from sleep by the blankets lifting and the mattress dipping. When he cracks open a bleary eye, he sees you doing your best to slip into bed without disturbing him. He can’t check the time on his phone without giving away that you’ve already woken him up. But from the pale grey light of early morning that’s already beginning to brighten the bedroom and the fact that Reiji isn’t already awake, Osamu guesses that it’s between five and six. 

He knows that you had plans with Atsumu last night. You told him that you would probably be back late. But “back late” feels like an understatement considering the joys of parenthood usually have both of you up in about an hour whether it’s a workday or not. 

When you come down a few hours later, the bags under your eyes and unkempt hair point to your inability to sleep in even after what he can only assume was an all-night rager. You pepper your son’s cheeks with exaggerated kisses that have him giggling over his breakfast as Osamu pours you a cup of what he’s sure is much-needed coffee. 

“Ya got home late last night,” he comments as you take the mug that he passes you.

“Ah, yeah. Just ended up going a little harder than I meant to,” you reply and something close to embarrassment seems to cross your features. You glance at Reiji, making sure his attention is on his food before you lower to voice to a furtive whisper. “I threw up in a karaoke room and had to sleep it off at Atsumu’s.”

His immediate instinct is to laugh in your face and he has to bite his lips and quickly look away from you to keep from doing so. You weakly punch his shoulder in response before sitting down at the table. 

But the amusement at your misfortune slowly starts to fade, replaced instead by that same voice, which is growing steadily more familiar. He can’t remember the last time that the two of you had a night like that together. He tries to think back on if it was before or after Reiji was born. And while you certainly don’t make vomiting in karaoke rooms a habit, it’s not at all rare for you and his brother to have a wild night out. 

When the voice asks why you’re having them with Atsumu but not with him, the only thing he can focus on is the knot in the pit of his stomach and how it only seems to grow tighter. 

He hears it again when he’s with Atsumu one day and he asks Osamu what he thinks about you rejecting a new job offer. The question is offhanded — he’s looking at his phone when asks it, barely even giving Osamu a fraction of his attention. 

But Osamu freezes. This is the first that he’s heard about any job offer. He didn’t even know that you were interviewing somewhere else. 

“What job offer?” His voice sounds thin and Atsumu seems to realize that he’s unintentionally stumbled into something much bigger because his thumb stops scrolling and there’s a line of tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there only moments ago. 

“Uh, it’s nothin’ big,” he quickly tries to assure his brother as he puts down his phone and turns to face him fully. “It just happened this week. Some new place made her an offer and she turned it down.”

Osamu merely hums, his expression betraying nothing, but his twin brother knows him too well.

“Look, I’m sure she just hasn’t gotten ‘round to telling ya,” he offers and Osamu can see the slight panic in his eyes. “She had that big meeting. And she’s been lookin’ after Reiji-kun since he’s been sick, right? Things’ve probably just been too crazy fer her to even think about it.”

Every excuse only digs the hole deeper. It’s not just this apparent job that you’ve been pursuing only to turn down that Atsumu knows about. It’s also your hectic work week and how you’ve been taking care of Reiji since the restaurant’s been too shorthanded for Osamu to stay home. 

What’s next? Is he going to mention that you’ve also been so busy the two of you haven’t had sex in almost three weeks? From the guilty look in his twin’s eyes, Osamu would bet good money that he’s already aware. 

On his way home, he tries to think about the best way to raise the subject with you and ultimately decides that there’s no good way to ask, “Hey. Why are ya tellin’ Tsumu things but not yer husband?”

(He knows that’s definitely the wrong way to phrase it, but that little voice won’t say it any other way.)

But when he enters your bedroom he finds you slouched against the headboard, fully passed out with Reiji sprawled on top of you as he clings to you even in his sleep. The light and tv are both still on. You’re obviously exhausted and stretched thin, while Osamu is looking to pick a fight. The guilt he feels is almost crippling. 

It probably hasn’t even occurred to you to mention the job offer with everything else going on. Atsumu is right, which only makes him feel worse. 

He comes toward the both of you and carefully tries to pick Reiji up out of your arms without waking either of you. But he’s only just managed to pry the sick toddler loose when your eyelids flutter open.

It takes you a moment to register what’s happening, still feeling the dregs of sleep, but when you do, you give him the softest smile and it makes him feel like an even bigger piece of shit.

“Did you just get home?” you whisper as you help him lift Reiji off of you. But before he can take your son too far away, you shift over and gesture for Osamu to place him in the middle of the bed. “He’ll cry if he wakes up in his room alone.”

“He doin’ any better?” Osamu quietly asks and does as you ask, gently putting him down before sitting down on your other side on the edge of the mattress. 

“His fever broke a couple of hours ago, so he should be back to normal in a day or two.” The news is a visible relief to you. It’s not just the amount of effort a sick child takes, but also the worry that’s been weighing you down. 

“Wish I coulda been ‘round more to help ya,” he tells you, his guilt about both doubting you and leaving you to take care of Reiji by yourself beginning to peek through.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you assure him, lifting a hand to run your fingers through his hat hair. “I know that you’re in a bind since Kimura-san quit. I’m the one with the flexible hours and schedule. I really don’t mind. We’re a team.”

He doesn’t deserve you.

“Well, the new part-timer starts next week so things’ll finally calm down,” he offers and something mischievous sparkles in your tired eyes.

“Good. Because when you can finally take some time off, we’re gonna pawn Reiji off on the grandparents. Then you’re gonna make it up to me by spending the entire night making me cum so hard I see stars,” you tell him, your tone leaving no room for argument, as if he would ever want to. 

“I can do that,” he agrees with a grin.

“We haven’t fucked in weeks,” you pout and Osamu can’t hold in his laughter, only for you to slap a hand over his mouth to keep him from waking up Reiji. 

Your own quiet giggles are able to momentarily drown out the small voice reminding him about the job offer that you’ve yet to tell him about. 

But a few weeks later, even after having the house to yourselves for an entire weekend and spending it fucking on every surface that you could like you used to do before Reiji came along, those embarrassing feelings of jealousy are still as present as ever.

You post a series of photos of you and Atsumu at a restaurant. The first picture is of your happy, smiling faces and the matching pair of five-pound gyoza on the table, one in front of each of you. As he swipes through the series, you both look worse and worse as you try to finish your gyoza. When he gets to the final one, you’re proudly holding a certificate from the restaurant for having finished yours in an hour, while Atsumu looks like he’s on death’s doorstep.

He’s so preoccupied swiping back and forth through the photos that when the restaurant door slides open, it startles him so badly that he almost drops his phone entirely. He doesn’t know whether or not to be relieved that it’s Kita coming to drop off a new order of rice rather than a customer who didn’t read the closed sign. 

On one hand, he doesn’t want to deal with a customer while he’s in the midst of indulging that voice that’s slowly becoming a companion. But on the other, dealing with Kita when he’s in a jealousy spiral is even worse.

“Is everything alright? Ya look like ya just got some bad news,” Kita observes with a small frown of concern.

As Osamu assures him that nothing’s wrong, he tries to hurriedly shove his phone into the pocket of his apron. However, it slips from his sweaty hands and skids across the floor of the restaurant where it comes face-up to a perfect stop right in front of Kita’s feet.

He picks it up and when he sees the final picture of you and Atsumu on the screen, he shakes his head in amusement. 

“Atsumu only sent me the picture of them at the start of the challenge,” he wryly says as he slides the restaurant door shut behind him and joins Osamu at the counter. He takes a moment to swipe through the rest of the photos in your post before passing the phone back. “I’m surprised ya didn’t go with ‘em.”

“I wasn’t invited,” he mumbled, vocalizing the bitter thought that’s been taking up so much space in his mind ever since you and Atsumu originally made the plans. But as soon as the words leave his lips, he knows he’s given himself away because he can feel Kita’s heavy gaze on him.

“Did ya ask if ya could join ‘em?” is Kita’s annoyingly reasonable response. After a few moments, Osamu gives the smallest shake of his head, confirming that no, he didn’t ask if he could go with you and his brother. 

“Y’know, yer wife is an amazing woman,” he finally says when it’s clear Osamu has nothing else to offer. “But fer all of her talents, she’s not a mind reader. Just talk to her.”

Osamu groans loudly at how rational Kita is being. He drops his head down to rest his forehead on the countertop, his Onigiri Miya hat flopping off in the process. While he agrees that it’s good advice, there’s still one problem.

“Kita-san…it’s embarrassing,” he protests childishly and he turns his head to the side to look up at his old team captain. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Stop spendin’ so much time with that scrub!’ I’ll sound like an idiot.”

“Just talk to her,” Kita repeats calmly and Osamu can only sigh. “Why don’t ya tell me how Reiji-kun’s been?”

For the rest of the day, Osamu finds himself trapped in an internal debate over whether or not he should take Kita’s advice. The ugly voice in his head insists that he shouldn’t have to say anything at all. If you really love him then you should already know. The more self-conscious part of him keeps warning him of how embarrassed he’ll be when he tells his wife, the mother of his child, the love of his life, that he’s jealous of how much time she spends with his brother. 

But a new voice, one that sounds exactly like Kita, simply asks him if he’s tired of feeling like this. Does he really want to keep harboring this resentment? It’ll only continue to fester and grow until it explodes, hurting everyone he loves. 

So that night, after he’s put Reiji to bed and the dishes are done and the laundry is folded and he has no more excuses left to procrastinate, he collapses next to you on the couch with an exaggerated sigh. You look up at him from your phone with an amused smile, only for it to slightly fall when you see how troubled he looks. 

“What’s going on? Did something happen at work?” you ask, turning to give him your full attention and scooting closer to him so that you can rest a gentle hand on his thigh. 

He shuts his eyes and gives himself a single moment to steel himself before finally letting out the poison that’s slowly been building inside of him for the last few months. 

“I have somethin’ to tell ya and it’s gonna make it seem like I’m fifteen or somethin’,” he says and he knows that if he didn’t sound so serious then you would be making a joke about him having some sort of wet dream and ruining the sheets. Instead, you give his thigh a reassuring squeeze. 

“Lately…fer the last few months…I’ve been feelin’ kinda…jealous.”

There. The words are out there in the world. You’ve heard them. He can go crawl into a hole and wait for the embarrassment to kill him. 

“Jealous? Of what?” 

He hates how concerned you sound. You’re not making light of his admission. You’re not confused. You’re being patient. You’re gentle. You’re so much better than him and his childish pettiness and resentment and jealousy. 

“You and stupid Tsumu,” he grumbles, slouching down even further into the couch. He glances over at you from the corner of his eye and sees the look of surprise on your face. He shuts his eyes again, balling his hands into fists, and tells himself to man the fuck up.

With his nerves now steeled, he takes a deep breath, sits up straight, and turns to fully face you. 

“Look, I know that ya got this weird friendship with Tsumu and that he’s yer best friend. And it’s never been a big deal before, but lately, I dunno…,” he trails off, his gaze darting down before he forces it back up to meet yours. “I’ve just been feelin’ a little…cut out.”

“Osamu,” you murmur, lifting a hand to his face but he quickly takes it between both of his so that he can hold it tight and keep himself steady. 

“I love you and our family and the life we’ve built together. I wouldn’t change any of it fer anything,” he’s quick to assure you, needing you to know that you make him happier than he ever thought he could be. “But sometimes I see ya hangin’ out with Tsumu and havin’ fun and it sounds dumb but, I wish I could see more of that part of yer life.”

You softly repeat his name before you climb into his lap. You wrap an arm around his shoulders to hold him close and pull your other hand from his grasp so that you can cup his cheek with a loving touch. 

“I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel that way,” you tell him. “You’re always gonna come first. I don’t ever want you to feel excluded or like I’m trying to keep the different pieces of my life compartmentalized.”

Just hearing your apology and acknowledgment of the irrational jealousy that’s been plaguing him soothes his insecurities and embarrassment. 

“I want ya to be able to go do things on yer own and do things with Tsumu without feelin’ like ya gotta bring me along every time. But ya just look like yer havin’ fun when yer gettin’ up to stupid things together and I guess, I just wanna have fun with ya too,” he shrugs. Despite how true it is, he hates how cheesy he sounds. But from the way that you’re looking at him with so much affection, you clearly find it touching. 

“I love having fun with you, Osamu,” you smile back at him and his cheeks start to feel warm. “I’d love to do more stupid things with you.”

“Even if that stupid thing is spendin’ 20,000 yen at an arcade to beat a bunch of teens for the high score?” he asks and it comes out shyer than he intended. “Or buyin’ out every flavor of chips and every type of snack from the konbini just to rank ‘em?”

“Even then,” you nod with a grin. “Even if it’s needing to make a cab pull over to throw up after a night of drinking.”

“I thought it was the karaoke room?” he frowns in confusion.

“It was the karaoke room for me. The cab was Atsumu,” you tell him with a laugh and he snorts in response. 

But then, since this is a time for honesty, he decides to bring up the question that’s been weighing heavily on his mind for the last few weeks. 

“Why didn’t ya tell me about the job offer?” he gently asks, the question curious rather than accusatory.

“Job offer?” The line of your mouth twists down and your eyebrows knit together as you try to understand what he’s referring to. 

“Tsumu said ya turned down a job offer. It was around when Reiji was sick,” he explains and his tone turns slightly hesitant. “Did ya feel like ya couldn’t tell me?”

Your eyes spark with recognition before you roll them in annoyance.

“Atsumu’s an idiot. He never listens,” you begin to rant and he’s not too proud to admit that hearing your irritation directed towards his twin extinguishes the last remaining embers of his jealousy. “It wasn’t a job offer. A recruiter reached out about a job opening for a position that involves more work for less pay. I didn’t even reply.”

He feels an odd mixture of relief, guilt, and frustration. He’s relieved that this was just some misunderstanding, but he feels just as guilty for jumping to the worst conclusion and thinking that you were something big from him. The frustration will be dealt with when he next sees his twin and gives him an earful and delivers a slap to the back of his head.

“I’m sorry fer not just askin’ ya ‘bout it sooner,” he says and you just give him a look of understanding. 

“You and me, we’re only human. There are just gonna be times when I forget to tell you something or just don’t think to bother with it. But I’ll always do my best to make sure you know when there’s something going on. We’re a team, remember?” You run your fingers caringly through his hair with a soft smile and he leans eagerly into your touch.

“We’re a team,” he repeats quietly, finding the words comforting. He then gives you a slightly embarrassed look. “Hey, don’t tell Tsumu, okay? He’ll just call me a scrub.”

You place a reassuring kiss on his lips before nodding. 

“Don’t worry. You’re a scrub, but you’re my scrub and I love you.” He can’t help but laugh as he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close. “But, you wanna do something crazy, huh?”

When he looks up at you, it’s to find a hint of wildness creeping into your expression. It’s the same wildness he used to see when you first started dating — before you both became adults and spouses and parents with real responsibilities. 

The next day, Atsumu stops by the restaurant in the late afternoon during a lull. His appearance is unannounced, meaning that Osamu hasn’t had a chance to prepare himself for what he knows is to come. It’s as bad as he imagined because as soon as the setter walks in, he freezes, his expression going slack in shock at the sight of Osamu.

Or more correctly, at the sight of Osamu’s hair, which has been amateurishly dyed to be the same shade of grey that he used to wear in high school. 

“Don’t even start,” he warns but doing so is pointless because Atsumu immediately bursts into laughter, finding it so funny that he has to clutch his stomach as he bends over. 

“Who’s idea was this?” he manages to ask in between his gasps for air and his cackles. “Ya look so stupid!”

Osamu just stares at him blankly, not bringing up the fact that Atsumu is the one who’s been wearing the exact same hairstyle since they were sixteen, and isn’t that even more pathetic? 

Because for all of the mocking that he receives, he knows it was worth it for the time he spent joking and laughing with you into the late hours of the night in your tiny bathroom as you did your best to dye his hair without burning his scalp.

[tojigasm]

“ going to saltburn for winter break “ no he’s going to yours and he swears it’s a dream, your family is straight out of a sitcom your mom is sickly sweet and ur dad is super protective but cute and u have a golden retriever with the most basic name like Roscoe or smth, you stay in your old room full of trophies from your childhood ( personally I’d say competitive dance but wtv u want ), pictures of you and your high school friends in cheer uniforms, baby pink walls and a canopy bed with white sheets with little lambs with bows, you all sit down for dinner after he helps your mom ( or dad just speaking off experince I’m not sexist ) and he is stunned, everything is so normal, he gets to see where you come from and what’s expected to come for the future. You definitely have a younger brother who u get into little fights with that he just smiles at and his so babygirl

Stoppppp and he'd tease you about your little stuffed animals and your pastel wallpaper, littered with little lambs and bows.

He'd keep you sat on your pretty little bed, kneeling as he tilts your chin up to kiss you softly.

He'd press little pecks and smooches to your pouty lips and soft cheeks.

I luv himmm

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [7].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. the usual amount of swearing and ruining the lives of men, jay goes through an crisis, mentions of hairballs, mc is extra menacing this chapter. WORD COUNT. 3.8k.

NOTE. here....it is..... this has been long overdue and i'm so sorry AHAHAH but i did say that i'm gonna update this whenever i want. anyhow, this is the jay chapter! and i hope this makes up for the one month long delay! enjoy, please let me know what you think<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 7 — sexy goth jellyfish.

YOU DON’T THINK YOU’LL EVER GET SICK OF WAKING UP AND GETTING LULLED BACK TO SLEEP BY THE MOST COMFORTABLE MATTRESS IN THE WORLD. Seriously. You’re considering hoarding it back to your dorm once you leave at the end of the month. 

It’s the best thing about this house. The second best thing is having your breakfast cereal already laid out for you in the kitchen the moment you step downstairs. This princess treatment is going to get you spoiled. 

The odd thing about today, however, is that your usual bowl of Cheerios is nowhere in sight.

You rub your eyes, proceeding to squint at the counter because maybe you just aren’t awake enough yet. But it’s still not there. You look over to the sink. There is no evidence that someone ate your cereal. What happened? Did your cereal robot sleep in today? Did he die? Are you gonna have to make your own bowl of cereal from now on?

“Good morning.”

Sunghoon greets you upon walking into the living room, cereal-less and still groggy. Beomgyu is also there, cross legged on the couch and playing something on his phone. “Good—” you greet back, scratching your hand underneath your shirt with a big yawn, “—morning.” For some reason, Sunghoon suddenly looks scandalized. You ignore it and stretch out your arms above your head with another yawn.

“Please— oh my god, please don’t do that. I can see your un—underwear.”

You pause mid-stretch, arms up in the air, shirt hiking up a little. “What color?” you ask. 

“Grey! Why would you ask me that?!”

“Ooh, correct.” You drop your arms down. “I thought you were kidding. Sorry, my bad.”

You grin and shoot them a peace sign. “Sunghoon, go get the PD&J,” Beomgyu announces, eyes not leaving his phone. Your expression quickly moltens into a glare and a grimace. Dammit, you’ve been careful all this time. You blame your lack of early cereal nutrients for this carelessness.

“I’ll pay later,” you grunt. “Anway, where’s Jay? He didn’t make my cereal today so I’m assuming the worst.”

“Is he your slave?” you hear Beomgyu retort. You’ll deal with him later.

Thankfully, Sunghoon is normal(?) and answers your question promptly. “Out on the deck,” he tells you, and you look over to the open glass doors past your dining setup leading up to the sunlit deck outside. You squint, unable to spot a life form of any sort at first, but after a moment of letting your eyes wander, you finally see it.

Jay is laying flat on the wooden floor, shades on, facing directly at the sun. “What’s up with him?” you ask Sunghoon. There are pieces of paper with unidentifiable contents scattered around the motionless man. You fear he might be actually dead.

“He’s photosynthesizing,” he replies. You should’ve known better than to expect a correct answer.

“He’s not a plant,” you scrunch your nose. “It’s past nine. He’s not getting any more vitamin D at this hour.”

Sunghoon simply shrugs and Beomgyu is still busy yelling profanities at his phone. You sigh. Time to take care of things yourself, so saunter over to Jay’s tanning bed and crouch down near his head, arms crossed. Is he asleep? you furrow your brows and peer down a little closer. His pitch black sunglasses are making it impossible to tell.

“Wow. This is the first time I’ve seen you upside down.”

And he’s alive.

“Hey,” you call out. “What are you doing?”

Jay has his hands symmetrically placed on his abdomen, and he remains unmoving when he opens his mouth to reply. “Brooding,” he says, and you are granted more questions than answers. 

“Don’t people usually do that in the dark?”

“I don’t conform to society’s standards.” Jay sits up, so you lean back. You watch him as he adjusts the shades on his nose bridge, ruffles his hair as if there’s a camera pointed at him, then says, “I’m absolutely fucked. I don’t know what to do.”

Woah, there. Looks like Mr. Easygoing is going through some troubled waters.

“Alright.” You shuffle out of your crouching position, dropping to paneled wood to cross your legs for a more comfortable position. “Lay it on me,” you announce, ready to sunbathe and hear a very very long story.

Jay stares at you. There’s a wrinkle between his brows. 

“Go ahead.” You nod decidedly. 

After another pause, Jay shrugs and sets his head down on your crossed legs, laying back down but with you as his new pillow. That’s not what you meant, but you roll with it. This is an opportunity to braid knots his hair. “So I took a summer class, right,” he starts, and you dig your fingers into the dark strands. “Women’s wear design. Thought It’d be useful for androgynous clothing ideas, but anyway.”

Wow, it’s so soft, you think, finishing a single braid. “And then?”

“Well. For our final project, we need to have a live model to wear our design prototypes. To test their functionality and all. A friend of mine already agreed a few weeks ago, but she suddenly canceled yesterday, so I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.”

His hair slips out of your fingers. The gears in your brain start to churn. “When’s the presentation?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Have you asked someone else?”

“Yeah. I’ve already tried calling everyone I know.”

“And?”

“I ran out of people,” he says. “I’m screwed, right?”

“I feel like there’s more to this.”

A third voice suddenly pops up and you flinch. “Holy shit,” you turn to see Heeseung sitting next to you. He looks like he’s been there for a while and you make your surprise very evident by how wide your eyes are staring at him. Jay props up, also looking at him. “When did you get here?”

Heeseung ignores you. “Jay,” he starts. You’re gonna get back at him for that. “What did you tell Eunmi when you asked for her help for the project?” 

Eunmi is a familiar name. You’re pretty sure she’s the one that stormed out of the house the other day. “I told her that I had a problem and asked if she could do me a favor.

Your brows knit together. Wait a minute. “And what else did you say?”

“I also asked if she didn’t mind taking her clothes off,” he says. “Why?”

Silence sets in. It simmers for a while. You and Heeseung share a look. “Jay,” you call out. He gets off of your lap and sits up, turning to face you. You press your lips together. How do you break it to him? 

“Dude, I’m pretty sure she thought you were asking to hook up.”

You double over and nearly let out a gasp. So the mysophobe isn’t hasn’t completely eroded his social awareness. You are both horrified and impressed, and he’s looking at you like he can hear your thoughts, visibly offended. 

“Heeseung’s right. Girlie probably thought you’d be using your measuring tape for something else outside of measuring.” They both give you a look. Maybe you gave Heeseung too much credit. “What? After measuring her tits and ass, imagine her disappointment when you went off to measure her ankles next.” 

“Well, I’m a fashion major, what did she expect?” 

“I don’t know, maybe some dressmaker-themed BDSM shit!” you huff. “Don’t you know you know anyone else that can model for you?”

“I’m pretty sure all the girls in his contacts have him blocked,” Heeseung says. 

You grunt and lean back, the deck warm on your palms. “Okay. I didn’t want to do this, but—” You sigh. Your shoulders slack, and you run your fingers through your scalp with a deep inhale. Jay and Heeseung nudge themselves closer. You give them three more seconds of suspenseful silence— one…two…three. 

“But we don’t have much of a choice.” 

His dumb sunglasses are still keeping his eyes hidden, but you’re pretty sure Jay is looking at you like you’re the second coming of Christ. On the other hand, Heeseung looks suspicious. You assure them that you’ll take care of, telling Jay to go upstairs and prepare his design prototype in case he needs to make any alterations, and Heeseung follows you to the living room, where Sunghoon and Beomgyu are still lounging around.

They turn their heads the moment you enter. Sunghoon and Heeseung’s eyes are trained on you as you approach Beomgyu, who has now settled down his phone to give you a disgruntled expression— impatient and nervous because, “what the fuck are you up to this time?” he voices out. You spare him an extra second of agony and tell him what you came for.

When the words leave your mouth, Beomgyu nearly chokes on the air.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

His eyes are wide, looking up at you. 

“What did you just say?”

“I asked if you can pretend to be a woman for a day,” you repeat. Beomgyu is looking at you like you’re insane. 

“What the fuck?”

“C’mon!” you exclaim, hopping down on the plush sofa cushion next to him and he jumps and flinches away. There’s a reason why you adore fucking with Beomgyu the most. “It’ll only be for a day! Do it for Jay! Whoa. That rhymes.”

“Why me?!” he shrieks. The reason is he fights back. He makes it all the more satisfying when he inevitably admits defeat. 

“Because you’re arguably the prettiest one of the lot!” You bounce closer, trapping his between the armrest and your enthusiasm to see him in a fucking dress. “Have I ever told you that your eyes are like, really, really pretty? And your facial structure is already so nice and elegant, I really don’t need to do anything with makeup, you’re already perfect!” 

With each word you utter and with each centimeter you lean closer, Beomgyu’s face gets increasingly redder and brighter. “Your— your flattery won’t convince me to fucking cross dress in public, you psychos!” 

Before you can get the chance to say ‘so you don’t mind doing it in private?’ Beomgyu tries pushing you off, but he’s too flustered to put any strength in. The opportunity to grab his wrists and pull him closer simply just presents itself. “C’mon!” you tug him in. “Swallow the toxic masculinity, Beomgyu! I believe in you!”

“No!”

He manages to roll off the sofa and retreat to his room. As Beomgyu’s heavy and hasty footsteps fill the air, the sound growing weaker by the second, you turn over to Sunghoon, who is sitting on the individual seat. He meets your eyes. “No,” he says before you could open your mouth. “Absolutely not.”

Sunghoon doesn’t waste a second to get up and follow Beomgyu’s escape pattern. “Sunghoon! Sunghoon, wait!” you yell after him. When he pads up the stairs, you stop at the bottom of the flight and watch as he scurries up the floor. “Are you upset that you’re the second choice? That doesn’t mean anything! You’re pretty too! I love your nose and your pretty face moles and—”

And he is gone. You turn back. “Well, I tried,” you shrug. Heeseung is wearing an expression you can only describe as severe perturbation. “Soobin and Jake aren’t home. That’s a bummer.” Then again, Jake would probably be down for it, which is no fun. And you can’t risk making Soobin cry again. Your list of crimes is already long enough. Beomgyu has the copy. 

“Of all the solutions you could come up with, I didn't think you’d go for the crossdressing route.”

Heeseung is leaning against the sofa, arms resting on top of its plush back. “Actually, I never even considered it,” he adds. “I thought you’d volunteer to model for him yourself.”

You make your way back to the living area with a yawn. Shrugging, you say, “I am.”

His brows scrunch, eyes narrowed. “Then why did you—” Heeseung stops thinking. He gives you a look of distaste. “You’re pretty evil, you know that?”

A laugh escapes your lips, and you hop on the couch Heeseung is leaning again. He visibly flinches when you do, but he doesn’t move away. So you sit up with your legs still on the sofa, knees sinking into the cushions, and you poke your nose forward so that it nearly bumps into his. 

“What are you—”

You inch your face closer. “It’s not my fault that you guys are easy targets.” You can literally hear his breath getting taken away. You flash him a wide grin. 

“Calm down. I’m moving away, moving away. No need to run.” When you flop back to lie on the sofa, Heeseung’s pink-tinted face is in full view, and he’s trying his best to hide it from you all while still trying to shoot you a glare. At some point he’s going to snap at you, for sure. Until that happens, you’re free to mess with him. “Anyway, I’ll be off to Jay’s secret lair. That is unless you man up and take one for the team, and—”

“Bye.”

Like the other two, Heeseung stomps away. You let out a huff of air. “You’re all weak as shit,” you call out. Maybe one day you’ll get the chance to give one of them a makeover. Maybe one day you can paint their nails and do their eyeliner.

Jay can’t express just how grateful he is for you.

No, really. He can’t. He tried telling you that he owes you his life when you told him not to worry about it and just go upstairs and prepare his things, but all that jumped out of his mouth is a measly, “you’re so cool,” before leaving you with Heeseung. 

That won’t do it. He’s gonna say thank you and a million more once you show up in the storage room-turned-office-slash-workspace next to his bedroom, and you’re going to be so impressed by his thanking skills. But the feeling is all muffled and fuzzy inside his chest— like a way too stubborn hairball he can’t cough out. So when you knock on his door and take a peek inside the extension of his room, all he can say is, “I made the carpet. Pretty cool, right?”

“Oh!”

Jay watches as you crouch down almost immediately upon his mention, feeling the mishmas of fabric texture with your palms. Your hands are running through a patch of faux fur, stitched to some leftover corduroy. You’re stepping on denim, and in between you and him is a large swab of linen. “Holy shit. This is pretty cool.”

There’s a thump in his chest. He’s pretty sure you’re the first person to say that after the other dozen people that have been here before you.

Then again, Jay’s pretty sure you’re the first for him on a lot of things.

He fears the hairball lodged in his throat just multiplied.

“So.” You pull yourself up from the ground. “What are we doing?”

“Oh,” he blinks. “Let me show you the clothes first. It’s a dress. It may not look like one, but trust me it is a dress—” he quickly explains, walking over to the mannequin in the corner of the room, pulling it out from the corner with a bit of a struggle because the wheels get caught in the stringy fabric of his carpet. “You can try it on, but it’s made with Eunmi’s measurements. Tell me if anything doesn’t fit right so I can alter it.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe out. “Hey, I may make fun of you guys a lot, but this time I’m being serious— this is so cool! What the hell, Jay?”

Well, that was a surprise. He didn’t think you’d like wearing something so avant garde. After Eunmi’s reaction to seeing it, he was pretty sure you’d be hesitant. “This will swallow my entire figure! I’d look like a jellyfish! You know what, I was already disappointed when you suddenly started jotting down my arm width. I’m going home. Don’t call me,” was what she said before storming off. But you’re all ooh’s and aah’s as you dig your nose into the thin sheets of intricately sewn on sheer, black fabric. 

“I was also serious about the carpet. Hold on let me try this on—”

You struggle taking the dress off of the mannequin. Jay helps you out. “You can change in my room.”

“Gotchu,” you shoot him a thumbs up, running off to the door with the dress flowing in your hands. “Don’t you dare peek. I don’t have any more spare change to throw into that stupid jar.”

“What if I pay for you?”

“Great. Door’s unlocked. Open if you have the balls.” Then you close the door with a still thinly open gap. It’s really is easy to talk to you. You don’t give him a weird look after he says a few words. He can hear your swearing slipping out of the crack in the door. Maybe he should have left you to fend for yourself against his admittedly unconventionally constructed dress.

“Need any help?” he asks, hesitantly inching towards the door.

“I can handle it— fuck, wait, where is my neck supposed to—”

After hearing a thump from inside the room, Jay believes he might have to intervene, else it’ll end up with either a torn ligament or a torn three month long project. He lands a knock on the door. “I think you need my help.”

“Give me a minute! I got this!” A minute. He starts counting down from sixty. And mentally counting down in nothing but silence and the occasional profanities from the other room is giving him some time to think. To think about how even though he’s gone through numerous dates, talked to numerous women, but for some reason they never last long. Well, all except you. You and his mother.

He’s lost count of the times he’s been ghosted (a ghost dress does sound like a pretty good idea), but the times they do communicate— they all communicate with a very familiar script:

“Maybe we should start seeing other people.”

Maybe his bonfire joke wasn’t as funny as he thought.

“Hey, Jay, is it supposed to look like this?” you call out before his sixty second countdown is over. “I think I’m wearing it wrong.”

When he opens the room to his door with a creak, his breath hitches in his throat. 

And it’s not the metaphorical hairball that’s been annoying him. Shit. Something about seeing you in a design he’s crafted with his own hands, conjured up with his own brain, is tying all sorts of knots in his stomach. Even when you put your arm in the wrong hole.

“You’re wearing it wrong.” Jay walks up to you next to the bed. The clothes you’ve shedded on in lieu of the dress he made is scattered on his mattress. He swallows hard before laying a discreet hand on your shoulder, tugging on a loose part of the clothing to reveal the armhole.

“Oh! That explains a lot,” you say, slotting in your arm into the correct gap this time. The dress still looks a little off. “I haven’t zipped it up yet. Can you help me?”

He lets out a cough. “Sure.”

Ah, what is going on with him? He’s been sleeping in this same room for nearly a year now, but for some reason the air right now is arid and stuffy and it’s making his head spin. Jay turns you around, a hand on your hip, and zips up the dress that suddenly feels like fire. That doesn’t make sense. It’s supposed to mimic water. Why the hell are his palms burning? 

The moment the dress is secured, you quickly look into the mirror. “What...what do you think?” he asks hesitantly. Maybe you don’t like it as much anymore now that it’s on you. Maybe the dress is also burning you. Maybe this design is a failure after all— and he feels that fear being confirmed when your back is turned towards him, and you spend a good minute looking at yourself in the mirror in silence. 

Dammit. The damned hairball is back in his lungs.

“I feel…” you start talking. His heart is pounding. Holy shit, he’s never felt this nervous before. “I feel like a sexy goth jellyfish. This is crazy. I love it.”

And just like that, air starts flowing back into his chest.

“Exactly!” 

He grabs you by the arm, spinning you around so he can look at you, and the dress fabric flitters along in the air. “Whoa!” you squeak out. He steadies you by the arms. You look at him, wide eyed.

Jay breath’s are bated. The sunglasses he’s got perched on his nose this entire time got crooked from the rush, falling down to the tip of his nose, revealing a look on his eyes that he didn’t know he was capable of making. “You get me,” he breathes out. “You totally get me.”

Something swirls inside the confines of his room. It’s dark. The only light coming in is from the crack into his office and the warm bedside lamp you turned on.

The both of you stay like this for a moment. Until there’s a knock on his door and a voice rips through all of the tension.

“Okay, fine!” 

It’s Beomgyu’s voice entering the room along with the sound of the door swinging open. 

Creak!

“Fucking fine, I’m going to do it. I’m going to do it as long as—”

It’s not just him. Heeseung and Sunghoon are also there, squeezed between the frame of his now open door. “Oh,” someone says out loud. He’s unsure who. “Oh.”

Somehow, Jay isn’t feeling your arms anymore. He blinks, and you’re not in front of him anymore. He turns his head and sees you in between him and the three other guys outside. “Are you ready to become a sexy jellyfish, Beomgyu?” you taunt, moving further away from him by the second. 

Beomgyu looks at him. Then you. Then keeps his eyes on you. “I never said anything. I’m gonna go—”

“C’mon! Don’t I look great? You’d look just as— no, maybe even prettier than me if you wear— wait!”

And just like that you and his dress project run away from the room. Sunghoon’s head whips back and forth between him and wherever you’ve run off to before going after you and Beomgyu as well. Heeseung stays, albeit out the door. “So, did it go well?” he asks. Jay is still staring at the spot where you’d left.

“It went well,” he replies. “I think I’m gonna get a good grade.”

Well that’s not the only conclusion he’s come up with after all that. In spite of the loud noises, the yelling outside, and the threat of his dress getting ripped apart in the crossfire, he’s sure of two things. He is not only sure that he’s gonna ace this final summer project— Jay is sure that he might have just half fallen in love with you, too.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[luxthestrange]

OP Incorrect quotes#7 Buggy's love life

Dragon!Y/n: Anyway im here with my crew to rest for a week

Buggy: A WHAT?! No, no, you are NOT STAYING here for a fuckin' week!

Dragon!Y/n*removes some hair out face and leans down/up to his height mockingly* Awww, you mad, Buggy Wuggy?~ You gonna run off, leaving someone else to pay for the hotel room, steal their boat and run…

Dragon!Y/n and Buggy: …run off to another island and max MY credit cards on shitty horse riding lessons?!

Buggy: Goddamn it whore, you will NOT let that go!?

Dragon!Y/n: Choke on a sandpaper cock

You flip the bird and walks away while Most of the Buggy Pirates fearfully lowers their head behind Alvida

Buggy*Following behind you stomping angrily*HOLD ON! You better move that tackyship of your right now back to the ocean, or I’m gonna…

Dragon!Y/n*Turns around growling* You'll what?

Buggy*glances around and stutters in fear* Or I'll… uh… uh, I- I'll call HR!

After a second of awkward silence, Buggy and You laugh as if in a sitcom...freaking the buggy crew by the shift between you two

Dragon!Y/n: Anyway, I have to meet with my new crewmates, Unlike you, they actually do their job well

You leave, but as you glances over your shoulder as you flips Buggy

Dragon!Y/n*looking back* Ta ta, fuck stain~

Buggy: Ugh, I wasted so much time with a bag of holes like that...

Alvida*Goes and shakes Buggy's shoulders* You know Y/n Draconic?!

Buggy: Huh...? Oh, yeah. them?, yeah... We dated

Mr 3: Was it before or after you left..you and Shanks?...

-Somewhere in the sea-

Shanks*Looking at a locket of younger buggy and Y/n*A-achooo!?...???..someone must be talking about me?

Alvida*Still in shock at the reveal* You dated THAT BEAUTIFUL PERSON?!

Buggy: Okay, why are you all acting like that’s such a shock?

Mr 3: Hellooo, it’s Y/n?...Even boss tried it with them

Cabajil: It's you?

Alvida: I just… *scratches her head* are they  blind?? Suffering some form of brain damage?

Buggy: Okay, look, you are all making this into a way bigger deal than it needs to be! I don’t pry into your stupid personal lives!

Alvida: You do that all the time!

Cabaji: Come on, you kinda do that...

Mr 3: You totally do that

Alvida grins mischievously, eyelids lowering

Alvida: What was sex with them like?~

Cabaji*taken aback* Alvida!

Alvida: Whaaaat?! They're a straw hat! You’d wanna know what sex with-*Moves his eyes to point at to a green moss on top of a rock with a knowing gaze*-was like!

Cabaji*about to scold her but changes his mind* …Touché

Part 2 of:

[sokoviansimp]

Control

✒ Pairings: dom!wanda x subAgent!femreader, bestfriend!Nat x bestfriend!reader

✒ Summary: New experiences provide clarity and confusion as you begin your training with Wanda.

✒ Tags and Warnings: 18+! Mature themes, mind control, early dom/sub dynamics, enemies to lovers, slow burn

✒ Author's Note: sorry this took so long, I'm a slow writer and I was really sick for two weeks.

✒ Word Count: 8973

✒ Read Time: 20 minutes

Masterlist : Socials : Series Masterlist

After weeks of recovery, you were finally allowed to sleep in your own room. Though, to your surprise, all of your belongings were moved from your room at the SHIELD base to one inside the compound. The thought of being in another foreign place instead of the comfort of your familiar bedroom was almost as bad as knowing a team of agents had gone through all of your private things.

You were brought up to a room on the third floor. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but it had just so worked out that floor two housed the males on the team, and floor three had the females, which was just Wanda and Natasha, and now you. Nat wanted to keep you close during your recovery and introduction to the team. She also felt it was fitting for you to be close to Wanda if she was meant to be your mentor.

Nat made sure to show you around the entire floor as she introduced you to your new room, “I’m sure you’re tired so I won’t stay, but if you need anything I’m right down the hall, and Wanda is right next door,” she assured.

“Thanks, Nat,” you said genuinely, thankful for everything she’s done for you throughout this experience. She was the best friend you had and she always earned that position with the way she cared for you. The two of you were soulmates in a way that sometimes, only friends can be.

Once you were left alone in your room, you quickly realized how tired you truly were. It was late in the afternoon by this point and you had a long day as doctors came in and out to give you dismissal plans and best practices. While it wasn’t your typical bedtime yet, you decided that you’d rather get rest now so that you could have a full day back to the real world tomorrow.

As you moved around the room to get ready for bed, you appreciated the effort of whoever transported your things. It was clear that they attempted to put everything as closely as possible back to the way it was in your previous living arrangements. The room was a different layout so it was impossible to be exact, but you could tell that they put care in settling you in.

Even in the new environment, it felt nice to go through your nightly routine again. It really made the moment when you finally sunk down into the fresh sheets that much cozier. You put on some sitcoms from the 2000s, but you knew you’d fall asleep before it was over. The television was loud enough to understand with captions and soft enough to allow you to drift off to sleep as you wished.

About a week goes by as Nat familiarizes you with all of the amenities and protocols to get you adjusted as a permanent resident of the compound, and when she’s busy, she has Wanda take over. You notice that your tiredness isn’t improving at all. You’ve always been known for being chill and easygoing, and you always felt tired in some way, that was just normal for you. Since the incident, though, your exhaustion has felt like it’s grown tenfold. The doctors expected that you’d be nearing full recovery by 2 weeks, but you felt something must be off track.

By the end of the week; you’re getting sick of being babied, and even though you haven't fully recovered you think you might just go crazy without some fresh air. You didn’t make your way down to the kitchen for breakfast until almost 11:30am, where Wanda was already preparing lunch.

“Got a full night’s sleep?” Wanda sarcastically pondered aloud as you tiredly shuffled through the cabinets for some ceral.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you grogily answered as you added milk to your frosted flakes.

“Maybe you should go back to bed then,” Wanda suggested

As if the suggestion alone gave you a burst of energy, you sprung back, “Oh no. I am done laying around like a potato! I am not spending a single solitary second in my room until I get outside for some fresh air.” there was a beat of silence once you finished your short rant, as if Wanda felt like you needed a breather after your small outburst.

“Alright- Well we can go out back and work on controlling your powers,” she offered once the silence ran its course.

“Yes! Perfect!” you confirmed as you took the first bite of your cereal.

Once Wanda finished up her lunch, she sat across from you to eat in mostly silence. It was a comfortable silence though, the crunch of your cereal breaking it ever so slightly. The two of you sat there and scrolled on your phones until your food was finished. You thoroughly cleaned your plate while you waited for Wanda to finish up her meal.

Even though you were quite familiar with the compound, visiting Nat often. You had no idea what surrounded the area. Adversely, Wanda spent a lot of time exploring the terrain that the compound sat within, especially when she was first adjusting to her new home. She explored to take her mind off of the events that led her to reside at the compound and forget about the clinical aesthetic that lacked any personality or comfort. It gave her an outlet that felt like an escape from reality.

“Where are we going?” You felt like she was leading you to some secret secluded area where no one could hear you scream, and in a way, she was.

“To work on your control,” that wasn’t the answer you were looking for. So you did what you do best, offer a snarky response.

You huffed, “That’s exactly what someone would say before leading me to certain torture, where no one can hear me scream,” you said with a dramatic undertone.

She looked back at you, slightly chuckling, “If I wanted to torture you, I wouldn’t drag you all the way out here to do it,” she bit back confidently with a sly smile creeping up, giving you a shiver down your spine that you blamed on the wind.

The spot that she settled at overlooked a mountain in the distance with a river flowing between the perch where the two of you stood. By the lookout, there was a long log makeshift to act as a bench, which Wanda frequently used to sit and ponder her thoughts and feelings. No one else really knew this spot existed other than her, she never spoke about it or showed anyone else until now. She wasn’t too keen on showing you her sacred getaway spot, but it was the safest place she could think of to practice your powers.

You gushed over the gorgeous area as soon as the overlook became clear and revealed its true beauty. The trees became more sparse as you walked, and the view opened up for you showcasing the natural landscape, “Wow, this is- it’s beautiful out here. I never knew this spot existed.”

“Yeah, no one does and I’d like to keep it that way,” Wanda said pointedly, ensuring that you weren’t going to start blabbing about it to the entire compound. If Tony got wind of it, surely he’d start building infrastructure around it and Wanda would lose her favorite spot.

Your hands shot up in defense, “Of course, I won’t tell a soul,” you confirmed.

Wanda, with an unamused look in your direction, “Not even Natasha.”

“Oh. Yeah, uh. Well, glad you clarified. Not even Natasha. Where should we tell them we are?” You asked, trying to come up with a story now because you aren’t very good at lying or even withholding information from your best friend, especially if you have to think it up on the spot.

“They won’t ask.”

Unfortunately for you, even if she doesn't ask, chances are high that you’d offer up the information accidentally anyway. You needed to come up with a cover story now to get it out of the way so that you dont have to come up with an explanation on the spot, “Well, what if they do? I just feel like we should be on the same page here.” you pushed.

“Y/N, it’s not that deep. Just say that we went to the other side of the compound grounds. See the river here?” you nodded, shifting your focus to the flowing water, “It spills into a massive lake on the other side of the compound.”

You acknowledged her explanation and with that, you were able to carry on with whatever Wanda had planned for you. She didn't have a particularly thought-out plan in place, but she had an outline of the steps she figured you would need to go through to grasp control of your abilities.

In order to help you, she needed to know what she was working with and how much power you truly wielded. After plenty of hesitation from you and coaxing from her, you outstretched your arm toward the mountain, “Go on, give it everything you’ve got,” Wanda encouraged.

Try as you might, nothing happened. Your muscles tensed as you attempted to make something happen, but you were stood there looking like a fool, “It’s- nothing’s happening!” you grunted as you let your arm fall back down to your side in frustration.

Wanda couldn’t help but chuckle, “Wow, finally something you’re not perfect at on the first try.” she claimed.

This hit a bit of a soft spot for you, “Contrary to popular belief, Maximoff, I’m rarely good at anything on my first try. I spent countless hours of practice and training to be where I am today.”

“Try again then” Wanda responded plainly, not fully convinced of the pity card you were playing.

You outstretched your arm again, trying to make something happen, but nothing did. Frustration began taking over and you tried again, with all your might you were trying to make something, anything, happen.

Wanda saw the way you became aggravated and quickly put a stop to it when she noticed your face getting red. Even though she enjoyed watching you struggle, she was nervous the effort you were putting in could become a hazard if you suddenly released the right type of energy.

“Ok, that’s enough. Take a breather,” she said as she reached out to put your hand back at your side and gently rubbed your arm in a soothing motion to calm you down. You took a breath, gathering yourself back together.

“Let’s try this,” Wanda started as she captured your gaze, “Close your eyes,” she waited for you to follow suit, but you hesitated, afraid of the vulnerability, “come on. Just do it,” she pushed, and you starkly fell into line. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the way you jolted to follow her command.

“Good,” she approved, which brought that same tingle to your body from earlier. You’re not sure that you’ve ever heard praise leave her mouth directed your way. The redhead reached out with a featherlike touch and glided her pointer finger along your arm, “Now take a deep breath and focus on this feeling,” she moved from your left arm to the top of your neck, dragging down the middle of your back. It felt like your skin was on fire at this point, every small touch reverberating 10-fold across your body. “Feel how the energy in your body moves.” She practically whispered in a hushed tone.

You could feel it, everything was so sensitive. You weren’t sure if it was because you were actually paying attention to the way the air met your skin, or because of the way Wanda was gliding her fingers across, “Do you feel that?” Wanda questioned, barely audible so as to not break your concentration, causing you to slowly nod in confirmation as you continued to breathe slowly.

Removing her fingers from your skin, Wanda took a step back from you, “Now keep that same focus and raise your left arm out in front of you.” You did as you were told, slowly raising your arm and letting it hang until she gave further instruction, “Perfect, now shift that focus to your left hand. Don’t pay attention to anything else,” she stated firmly, “just my words and the feeling of energy flowing to your hand”

She could tell you were concentrating hard by the way your brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Now, imagine the energy flowing from the tips of your fingers. Concentrate everything to your hand and imagine it pushing out.”

You did as she said, and you were so focused on the feeling in your hand that any minuscule movement felt similar to a creaky floorboard. Soon enough, your hand started to tingle and you even felt the temperature begin to rise.

“That’s it, now push it through, get rid of it.” Wanda guided. You could feel the energy slowly reverberating from your hand in waves, it was slow at first but once it was out you quickly ramped up to a more sizable wave of low-frequency acoustic energy.

You were quickly losing control of it as the seismic waves grew quicker than you anticipated. Without even knowing what happened, you felt a comforting fog take over your mind, and your arm quickly dropped to your side. You stood there in complete bliss until the fog faded fully from your mind, “Y/N?” Wanda interrupted, “How are you feeling?”

You turned around to face her, “Tired,” you said with hooded eyes. Using your powers took a lot out of you, especially when you were already tired to begin with, “-but, that felt amazing!”

Wanda smiled in return, “I know, getting a hang of your powers is a really good feeling, I remember when I-”

“No, the feeling that came after, it was like my brain shifted and went into a different state. It was so relaxing. Does that happen to you when you use your powers too?”

That wasn’t the answer Wanda was expecting, “Oh, no Y/N. What you felt was me, using my powers on you. I noticed you were having trouble keeping pace with the volume of waves, so I stepped in to break off the outburst,” she explained.

“Oh.” that made sense, you weren’t sure how you were able to stop so easily when moments before it felt like you were losing control. That feeling though, god it felt amazing. Part of you craved it as if everything fell into place in that moment. “Can we go back now? I’m so tired,” you asked as a yawn escaped like a bookend to your query.

“Already? We just got here.” Wanda teased before she remembered you’re still in recovery mode. “Yeah, I’m really tired,” you slurred as fatigue slammed into you similar to the force of a freight train and you visibly stumbled trying to keep upright. Wanda quickly caught you and guided you over to the nearby rock to sit for a moment, “I-I’m sorry, I just-” you started to apologize but Wanda cut you off, “Y/N stop, you don’t need to apologize.” she reassured you, and when you looked up to meet her gaze you were surprised to see the complete absence of anger or disgust, something you weren't used to.

Once you got ahold of your bearings, the two of you headed straight to the compound. Upon entering, you immediately plopped onto the nearest thing available to sleep on, which just happened to be the couch in the common room, not even bothering to make the trek upstairs to your bedroom.

“Y/N, I think we should go to the med bay and get you checked out,” Wanda stated trying to urge you off of the couch.

“Mmm, later,” you responded groggily as if you were half asleep already.

“Come on, surely your bed is cozier than this,” Wanda persisted, but there was no response this time. She stood there for a couple of seconds longer, staring at your form and waiting to see your chest rise and fall a couple of times before heading off to the medbay to get Bruce’s opinion. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, and she would surely never admit it, but she cared about your well-being.

Bruce assured Wanda that she was right in bringing this to his attention, while not urgent, it would be best to get you checked out. You should be recovered enough by this point that extreme exhaustion shouldn’t come so easily.

You woke up a few hours later and after pouring yourself a bowl of cereal, you headed up to your room. Hearing the movement, and soft noise of the TV turning on through the walls of your room, the woman next door made her way over to knock on your door.

“Come in!” you called from the bed, as you kept your attention on the TV knowing it was only Nat coming in to hang out.

“How are you feeling?”

Taken off guard by a different voice, you did a double take, “Wanda? Sorry I was expecting Nat. You just caught me off guard. I’m feeling better, just needed a nap.” you explained, trying to straighten your posture and appear like you’ve miraculously healed with that short nap.

“That’s good! I spoke to Bruce and-” Wanda began, before you cut in, “Spoke to Bruce? What? Why? I’m fine!” you blurted out, hating the thought of being brought back to medbay for further testing, you’ve always hated doctors, and especially hospitals. With how much time you’ve spent in a hospital the last month, if you never went back, it’d be too soon.

“He said you shouldn’t be tired anymore, and it’d be good to get checked out.” She explained.

You shook your head, “I’m fine Wanda. This is nothing new for me, being tired is my normal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the best part is coming up.” You say motioning to the sitcom you had playing on the tv.

“When Clair tells Phil that she was too lazy to wait in line for his iPad?” Wanda challenged knowing exactly what episode you were watching, figuring you were just trying to get rid of her.

“No. Well, kind of I guess, but after that Phil goes to the batting cages as a coping mechanism.” you clarified.

“How is that the best part?” Wanda pushed for a more in depth explanation.

Part of you felt like you shouldn’t have to explain yourself, but another deeper part of you almost wanted to open up and let Wanda into all the details of your life, “Softball was a big part of my childhood, so it always felt like the batting cages were a safe place for me too, a place to stop overthinking and just focus on things like my stance or the angles I caught the ball at.”

It’s not the answer Wanda expected, but it made a lot of sense now, “You crash birthdays there too, or is that just a Phil thing?”

You both let out a laugh, “No, no. Phil takes the cake on that one.”

“Mind if I join?” she phrased it as a question, but she closed the door and moved to sit next to you on your bed before receiving an answer, and treating it more as a statement.

Not knowing how to decline at that point, or if you even wanted to you just kind of shook your head awkwardly and turned the volume up. The two of you sat in silence, other than the crunch of your cereal and the laughter you shared at the funny parts.

Together you watched about 2.5 episodes before the cozy atmosphere lulled you into a peaceful slumber. Wanda hadn’t even noticed you were sleeping until she glanced over because you weren’t laughing anymore. She couldn’t help but take note of your contorted position, clearly uncomfortable.

Concern etched subtly across her features, Wanda gently shook your shoulder, trying to rouse you from your deep sleep. "Hey, Y/N," she whispered softly, "you're sleeping in a pretty awkward position. You should move."

Y/N stirred, emitting a soft whine in response, but made no effort to adjust her position. Wanda sighed softly, realizing that coaxing Y/N awake might prove to be a challenge. With a gentle touch, she brushed a strand of hair away from Y/N's face, a fond smile tugging at her lips.

"You're stubborn, you know that?" Wanda murmured affectionately, her fingers tracing your cheek. "Fine, I guess I'll take care of you then."

With careful hands, Wanda eased you into a more comfortable position, tucking a pillow under your head and arranging the blankets around you. As she watched you settle into a deeper sleep, a warmth that she hadn’t expected filled Wanda's heart.

With that realization, she hurried out of your room as quickly as she could without disturbing you and pushing any positive feeling she suddenly felt toward you as far away as she could. God, she couldn’t stand you. Once she got back to her own quarters she asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to send both you and Bruce a reminder to look into your exhaustion so that she wouldn’t have to bring it up with you again.

Your footsteps quickened as you rounded the corner, hoping to evade Bruce's watchful gaze. The prospect of returning to the medbay filled you with a sense of unease, a heavy feeling you couldn't quite shake.

Bruce, Wanda, and now even Natasha had all been insistent on your follow-up examination, but you continued to make excuses and delay the inevitable. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the cold, clinical atmosphere of the medbay sent shivers down your spine, stirring up memories you'd rather forget.

With each passing moment, your anxiety mounted, a knot tightening in your stomach at the mere thought of facing medical procedures and probing questions. You knew Bruce and Nat meant well, you were still on guard with Wanda, but the fear of hospitals and medical procedures was deeply ingrained within you. Years spent avidly making sure no one else was privy to this fear because being a SHIELD agent requires bravery and courage, so how could you be a good agent and simultaneously be afraid of the doctor? You couldn’t. No one could know.

As you ducked into a nearby corridor looking over your shoulder, you were relieved to find Bruce's figure out of sight. But the guilt gnawed at you, knowing you were avoiding someone who was only trying to help for the sake of your own discomfort.

Yet, the fear of hospitals felt overwhelming, you felt a sort of primal instinct that seemed to grip you tighter with each step. You couldn't bring yourself to face it head-on, not yet anyway.

With a heavy sigh, you resolved to ignore the issue until it went away. For now, you’d continue to dodge Bruce's attempts at persuasion.

Days passed with you mostly keeping to yourself, Nat was away on a mission for a few days so that made things a bit easier. When you did venture out of your room for things like food and drinks, you made sure to scout out the area before entering to ensure you wouldn’t run into anyone.

As Wanda busies herself in the kitchen, the air is infused with an enticing medley of aromas that dance and mingle, creating a sensory symphony.

The rich, savory scent of sautéed onions fills the air, their sweet fragrance wafting from the skillet as Wanda expertly caramelizes them to perfection. The gentle sizzle of the onions echoes through the kitchen, a comforting sound that signals the beginning of a culinary masterpiece.

Next comes the earthy aroma of garlic, its pungent essence mingling with the sweetness of the onions to create a harmonious blend of flavors. As Wanda minces the garlic cloves with practiced precision, the kitchen is enveloped in the warm embrace of this aromatic duo.

“Hey Wanda, Have you seen Y/N?” Bruce asks, entering the kitchen and immediately bing hit with the aroma of Wanda’s Solyanka dish, “Mmm, smells good in here!” he added

Wanda smiled at the compliment as she turned to Bruce, “Not in a couple of days, how’d her check-in go?” she asked while continuing to stir the dish.

“It hasn’t, I think she may be avoiding me.” He deadpanned

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, when I first mentioned a follow-up examination to her. She very suddenly had a bunch of things to do and ran off, and I haven't seen her since. This was 4 days ago.” Bruce explained as he rummaged through the fridge for a drink.

Wanda nodded as the gears began to turn in her brain, she let out a hum, “Interesting. F.R.I.D.A.Y where is Y/N now?” she spoke aloud to the artificial assistant.

“Y/N is currently practicing archery in the training sector,” F.R.I.D.A.Y informed.

“Well, at least she’s not in bed,” Wanda dryly chuckled, adding the last bits of tomato to the pot.

Bruce nodded, “Yea, I’d still like to get that follow-up in though. I have a meeting in about 10 minutes, do you think you could talk to her?”

“What, why me?” she practically whined.

Bruce smiled, almost devilish, and simply said “You’re her mentor.” before leaving the room with his glass of mango juice.

Wanda rolled her eyes as she turned back to the pot on the stove, it was almost done. She just needed to put it on low to simmer for a bit. Though, as she made her way out of the kitchen, she almost felt a sense of excitement. Must’ve been because her dish was coming along so nicely, because there’s no way she would ever be excited to see you. Right?

As Wanda made her way to the training sector, her steps purposeful and determined, she couldn't shake the nagging worry that had been gnawing at her since Bruce had mentioned your unscheduled appointments in the medbay.

Spotting you across the training room, Wanda approached with a gentle smile, hoping to broach the subject delicately. But as she drew nearer, she noticed the tension in your posture, the furrow of your brow, and the restless energy that seemed to radiate from your figure.

"Hey, Y/N," Wanda greeted softly, her tone gentle as she approached, "I was looking for you. Bruce mentioned you haven't been to see him yet. Is everything okay?"

Your reaction was immediate, a defensive edge creeping into your voice as you shrugged off Wanda's concern. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just been busy with training, you know how it is."

Wanda wasn't convinced. She could see through the facade, recognizing the telltale signs of agitation and avoidance. Something was clearly bothering you, and she could see it was something you weren't ready to share.

"Wanda, I'm fine," you insisted, your voice tinged with frustration. "I don't need to see Bruce. It's not a big deal. I’m not even tired anymore, I’m literally shooting arrows right now. Would a tired person be doing that?" you reasoned in a rambling fashion.

But Wanda could sense the underlying fear in your words, the unspoken truth you were trying so hard to conceal. She also knew better than to push, because she knew better than anyone that some wounds ran deeper than others and required patience and understanding to heal.

With a reassuring smile, Wanda reached out to gently squeeze your shoulder and before she could even filter her words, her mouth started spewing, "Okay, Y/N. Just know that if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you. No judgments, I promise."

Your tense expression softened, a flicker of gratitude in your eyes before confusion came crashing in, “Uh- are you feeling ok?” not only was that possibly the nicest thing anyone had ever said, but you were pretty sure it was also the only nice thing Wanda has ever said to you.

Trying to build back her stone-cold composure against you, Wanda snapped back, “What? Have you never had someone see that you’re hurting and be nice to you? God Y/L/N, don’t read too much into it.” she scoffed and turned to leave the training gym, “Class at 6:30 tomorrow morning, don’t be late!” she yelled out on her way to the door, without even turning back around to face you, “OH! And meet up with Bruce!”

“I AM FINE!” you shouted back.

You made sure to go to bed early that night so that you’d be able to get up early enough to make your meeting with Wanda without some sarcastic comment about your tardiness. It was still difficult but you needed to be on time to help prove your point that you don’t need Bruce, and you don’t need a follow-up exam.

The spot was a lot chillier than the last time you were there, you could still see the morning dew on the grass as the wind softly whipped through the clearing with crisp morning air.

Wanda was already there when you arrived, it was still dark but you could see her scarlet magic carrying her through the air as she set up targets across the way.

“Oh good, you’re finally here,” Wanda commented as she landed back on the ground on your side of the clearing.

“Hey, I was ON TIME. You can’t complain about that.” you defended.

She looked at you with a devilish grin and smugly claimed, “Does S.H.I.E.L.D. teach their agents anything anymore? On-time is late and 10 minutes early is on time.”

You just rolled your eyes in response as you changed the subject to ask about the new additions to the terrain, “What are those for?” you said pointing across the river.

“Something for you to aim at. Come, follow me.” she gestured as she began scaling a nearby boulder. It was easy enough to climb up the side of, almost like nature created it’s own version of stairs. The top provided an even better view of the clearing and a clear visual of where the sky hangs over the mountain.

Wanda made herself comfortable sitting at the top, leaving enough room for you to sit next to her as she patted the ground gesturing for you to join her, “What are we doing up here?” you asked, cautious of what she had planned for you.

“Gosh, what’s with all the questions Y/L/N? Why don’t you just go with the flow for once in your life”

“Fine.” you agreed as you took the spot next to her.

A couple of beats of silence pass as you both stare into the darkness that still covers the sky when Wanda finally turns to you, “Mornings are my favorite time to be out here.” she admitted.

“Why? It’s cold.”

Instead of immediately addressing your question, she turned back to the sky and took a deep breath. As if on queue, the sun slowly started to peek out from behind the mountain and paint the sky with warm hues like a work of art, “That’s why.”

“Wow,” you took it all in as you sat there in awe. The two of you shared a comfortable silence until the sun had completed its ascent over the mountain line.

As you struggled to harness your newfound powers, frustration simmered beneath the surface. Despite Wanda's surprisingly patient guidance, controlling the unpredictable energy coursing through your veins proved to be a daunting task.

With each failed attempt, your frustration mounted, a knot tightening in your stomach as you grappled with the overwhelming force of your abilities. But amidst the chaos, there was a flicker of something else—a thrill that coursed through your veins whenever Wanda intervened to take control.

Wanda watched you closely, her brow furrowed in concentration as she assessed the situation. She could sense your struggle when the raw power of your abilities threatened to spiral out of control. With a steady hand, Wanda reached out, her telekinetic powers weaving through the air as she penetrated your mind, guiding her movements with a gentle yet firm touch.

As Wanda assumed control, a wave of relief washed over you, a sensation that was both exhilarating and disconcerting. You surrendered to Wanda's influence, relinquishing control with a sense of surrender that both frightened and intrigued you.

But beneath the surface, there was a secret you dared not admit—a part of you relished in the feeling of giving up control, the intimacy of connection ignited a fire within you that couldn't quite be extinguished. It was a forbidden thrill, tainted by your tumultuous history and the unspoken tension that lingered between the two of you.

As the training session continued and you started to get the hang of it a bit more, there were a few times that you feigned a lack of restraint, the occasional slip-up, a deliberate ploy to elicit Wanda's intervention once more. To relish in the feeling of her control. You were ashamed of the forbidden desires that stirred deep down whenever Wanda's telekinetic touch enveloped your mind, binding the two of you together in ways you couldn't even begin to understand.

Wanda was quite literally inside of your mind, she knew what you were doing, and still, she played along. She recognized the subtle cues in your behavior. She understood the unspoken desire that lingered beneath the surface, mirrored in her own developing longing for intimacy.

Instead of reprimanding you for your deliberate slip-ups, Wanda chose to covertly lean into the unspoken tension that crackled between you. With a subtle flick of her wrist, she amplified her telekinetic influence. Your mind clouded with a thick fog, nearly impossible to see through, keeping your thoughts tame as you subconsciously followed Wanda’s lead.

Loving the feeling of having a complete hold on your mind, she reveled in not only the way that you hung on her every command, but also in the way you enjoyed it. She was going to have fun with this, give you small tastes until you’re begging for more.

Slowly, she released the hold she had taken over your mind. As the fog started the thin out, the first thing you heard was Wanda calling out your name with an artificial tinge of worry, “Y/N?” You blinked rapidly a few times before fully coming back to your senses, “are you ok?” her words were soft and endearing.

“Yea, uh,” As if the world instantly got the right prescription, everything cleared right up, “Think we can call it? I need to go lie down,” you admitted. Wanda wanted to decline your request, she was actually really enjoying herself, “Yea, of course.”

You had been laying in your bed for 20 minutes now, unable to rest because your mind kept replaying the events of your training session with Wanda. You weren’t sure if it felt so good for her to take over your mind like that because it was something you craved or because it was her. It could’ve been both, but surely she doesn’t feel the same about you. In fact, with the way you constantly get underneath each other’s skin, surely she despised you.

It wasn’t fair to her, for once she tried being helpful and you’re practically drooling over the thought of more. You had to remove yourself from the situation before it became too much and you made a complete fool of yourself. Getting up from your bed, you decided the only thing that could get you out of your mentorship with Wanda would be found in Tony’s lab.

“Tony!” with his back to the door, you noticed the slight startle in his figure, he wasn’t expecting anyone, “How’s the device thing coming along for my powers?” you asked, taking the seat across from him.

Once you were seated across from him, he raised his gaze from the object in his hands to meet your eyes, “The inhibitor?” you nodded, “yea, that.”

“I thought Wanda was teaching you how to use your powers? I stopped working on it because I figured you didn't need it,” this was the last thing you wanted to hear, this was your way out. You needed this thing as quickly as possible.

“Oh, Wanda agreed that it would be good for me to have it. That it would actually help me to learn how to tame them.” you lied through your straight-ass teeth but Tony believed you. While someone like Natasha would’ve seen right through that charade, Tony sure as hell wasn’t an Avenger because he was a super spy, intelligence can only get you so far in the detective game.

“Ok, i’ll have it to you in the next couple of days. I’ll just need to run some tests on your blood to callibrate it correctly, can you go down to the med lab today?”

Oh here we go, you’ll either have to face your fear of medical or keep hiding your budding feelings for Wanda. Surprisingly this is exactly what it took for you to get your follow up exam and run even more tests.

Bruce was surprised to see you, and even though your attempt at convincing him you werent avoiding him fell short, he decided not to pry. He was just happy you were here now.

The follow up exam wasn’t nearly as bad as you had built it up in your head. They just asked a few questions, took some tests and sent you on your way. That’s how it always is though, and next time it’ll be the same way. You conjure these irrational thoughts and then it builds and builds.

As Natasha returned to the compound , you could hardly contain your excitement. You missed her presence, and you were looking forwards to hearing all about her mission.

"Nat!" you exclaimed as you spotted Natasha entering the common area, a grin spreading across your face. "You're back!"

Natasha's lips curved into a warm smile as she greeted you with a hug. "Hey, Y/N. It's good to see you too," she said, returning the embrace.

The two of you settled onto the couch together, the familiar comfort of your friendship easing the tension of Natasha's recent mission. As you caught up on each other's lives, swapping stories and sharing laughs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude that your friend was back.

"So, how was the mission?" you asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.

Natasha's expression softened, a hint of weariness shadowing her features. "It was… intense," she admitted, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "But we got the job done."

“Intense, how?”

Natasha settled back into the couch, her gaze distant as she recounted the events of her mission. "We were sent to extract a high-value target from a hostile territory," she began, her voice tinged with a mixture of seriousness and intensity.

"It started off smoothly enough," she continued, her words measured. "But things quickly escalated. We encountered heavy resistance from enemy forces, and what was supposed to be a simple extraction turned into a full-blown firefight."

You listened intently, as your expression reflected the gravity of Natasha's words. Flashbacks of your recent mission sitting at the forefront of your mind as she recounted the events. You knew firsthand the dangers of fieldwork, but hearing Natasha's account reminded you of the risks she faced on a daily basis.

"We managed to secure the target, but not without casualties," Natasha said quietly, her gaze turning inward as she remembered the sacrifices made during the mission.

You reached out, offering Natasha a reassuring squeeze of your hand. "I'm sorry, Nat. That’s never easy," you said softly, voice filled with empathy.

She offered a grateful smile, appreciating your insight. "Yea," she admitted, her tone somber. "But we did what we had to do. That's the job."

As you sat together in the quiet of the room, the weight of Natasha's mission hung in the air. But amidst the shadows of uncertainty, there was also a glimmer of resilience, “So, what’d I miss around here?”

“Oh, nothing really,” you shrugged, “Same old things.”

“Oh yea? How’s your mentorship with Wanda going?” she pried.

Your cheeks flushed at the mention of her name, and of course the super spy sitting next to you noticed, “oh that? It’s coming to an end.” you responded vaguely.

“-an end? Why? What happened?” Natasha pushed for more information.

Avoiding eye contact, you explained, “Nothing happened. I don’t need her help anymore,”

Acting impressed, Natasha had a feeling there was more to the story, “Well, you got a handle on your powers pretty quickly then, huh?”

With a satisfied grin, acting as if you outsmarted some all knowing system, “Oh I don’t need to. Tony is fixing them.” you bragged as you removed yourself from the couch beside Nat to enter the kitchen which was still in clear view from where Natasha was seated on the couch, “you want a drink or anything? You must be exhausted.”

Nat stayed put on the couch, letting her brain catch up with what you just said, she was tired but that could wait, “Sorry, can we circle back for a sec? Tony is fixing your powers? How exactly?” she pressed, not letting you move on from the topic as she followed you off the couch and into the kitchen.

Using the refrigerator as an excuse to not meet her eyes, you pretending to weigh your options even though you knew exactly what you were after as soon as you left couch, “well, i dont know the technicalities of it, Nat, but he’s got gadgets for everything. Oh! And I had my follow-up with Bruce. He said that he’ll need to wait for the tests to come back but everything seems in order.”

Natasha hummed in response as she took a sip of the water bottle you slid over to her, “We’ll talk about this more later, movie night tonight? I’ve got to go take a shower.”

You nodded in response, “Oh, so that’s what that smell was!” you called out as she left you behind in the kitchen. She couldnt help but checkle slightly in response, “Oh shut it, Y/L/N!”

You were looking forward to a proper movie night with Natasha, it had been too long for your liking since the two of you got to have time to yourselves and relax together like this. You even made sure to run to the store and grab lots of snacks in preparation.

You werent good at cooking by any stretch, but popcorn, you could handle. You got a bowl ready, and made sure to season it with the butter powder that Natasha loves as you put all the other junk and drinks onto a tray so you could carry it easily into the theatre room. To your surprise, Natasha wasn’t the only one there waiting for you.

“Surprise!” Nat haphazardly yelled once you noticed that Wanda was sitting beside her. Against your own will, your eyes widened as your cheeks flooded a light pink. You didnt want her here, “Why is she here?” you asked, speaking to Nat as if Wanda wasnt sitting right there to hear.

“Natasha invited me,” Wanda stepped in and explained for herself. It was difficult to hide your disgust at the situation, you were looking forward to having a cozy evening alone with Nat.

“Why?” You kept your eyes on Natasha, not paying Wanda any attention, she was intruding on your plans, and you hated the fact that you’d have to sit through an entire movie with her, an entire movie being distracted, trying to push away the thoughts that keep plaguing your mind.

Natasha knew that there was tension between you and Wanda that likely should be addressed, and who better to be a mediator than your best friend herself? After thinking over your approach to dampen your powers instead of learning to wield them properly, she believed that spending time together in a relaxed setting like a movie night could help you work through your differences and potentially mend whatever set you off from training.

Additionally, Natasha valued both you and Wanda as friends and continually tried anything to see you get along better. She hoped that by bringing you together in a more casual and friendly environment, you could find some common ground, “Oh stop complaining Y/N, come sit!” Nat patted the seat next to her. Wanda wasnt phased by your display, in fact, she somewhat expected it.

You reluctantly sat without complaining further, “What movie have you two decided on then?” you shot off, acting as if having Wanda there excluded you in some way.

Nat ignored the attitude in your tone, “We havent decided yet, I was thinking a comedy though,” she answered.

You and Wanda both decided against anything either of you chose, so eventually you landed on a movie that Nat suggested. As the movie played on the screen, you held back your laughter, a subtle attempt to maintain a sense of composure in front of Wanda. Feeling somewhat guarded in Wanda's presence, hesitant to show vulnerability or let your guard down completely.

But as the movie reached a particularly funny scene, you couldn't help but crack a smile, the laughter bubbling up from deep within. Natasha, sitting beside you, let out a hearty laugh, her amusement contagious as it spread to both you and Wanda.

Despite your initial reservations, the three of you were soon found laughing uproariously, the tension of the evening melting away in the shared joy of the moment. You felt a sense of relief wash over you, making a conscious decision to let go of your hesitations and embrace the joy of the movie. Letting your guard down, to laugh freely and openly.

Once the movie came to and end, the next suggested option was “Modern Family” and without a second thought you clicked play. Nat slowly got up from her spot in the middle of you and Wanda, claiming she was exhausted and going to head to bed. You and Wanda stayed seated as the show began to play. You’re not sure exactly when it happened but at some point, Wanda took over Nat’s seat beside you, “So, how did your follow up go with Bruce?”

You sighed, “It went well I guess, they uh- they found in my bloodwork that I have this disease called chronic fatigue syndrome, which explains why I’m always tired and stuff,” you explained.

Wanda tilted her head slightly as she took in the information, “Well, surely you already knew that from the tests SHIELD did on you to pass academy.” She questioned, thinking back to her internal reasoning as to why you knew that you’d be able to survive the chemical at the Hydra plant.

You’re not sure where her thought process was, or what made her come to that conclusion, “What? No, I never got to see the results of any of those tests, it was all confidential.” you explained, “It was just a pass or fail result at the end of the graduate year.”

As if all the walls that Wanda built between you came crashing down, realization flooded in. She had constructed this idea of you in her head, an idea that you always had some sort of ulterior motive and nothing you ever did was out of any sort of kindness or altruism, “Wait, so how did you know that you’d survive the chemical agent that we were sent to retrieve at the Hydra base?”

“I didn’t.” you stated as if it were obvious. Perhaps it was to everyone else. “Oh! Speaking of that, I have some good news!” you transitioned to the new topic, tone laced with mischief, “You won’t need to mentor me anymore,”

Wanda arched an eyebrow, her expression guarded knowing that you surely didnt have a complete grasp on your powers yet, she hummed, “Why’s that?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips, “Tony’s making me an inhibitor,” you nearly bragged, “I don’t need to bother with them now, and we can go back to hating each other, no need to keep up with this charade anymore. Just like old times.”

There was a sharpness to your words, a cutting edge that sliced through the tension. You knew that your relationship with Wanda had always been fraught with animosity, a constant battle of wills and egos.

But as you watched Wanda's reaction, a flicker of something crossed her features—was it disappointment? Relief? Sadness? You couldn't quite decipher it, but deep down, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were doing Wanda a favor by removing yourself from her life.

Wanda's response was measured, her gaze steady as she met your eyes. "Oh, this thing?” she said as she held out her hand, the inhibitor that Tony built for you appearing out of thin air, surrounded by red tendrils of magic. Your eyes widened, “I was wondering when you were going to tell me. Imagine my surprise when he told me it was my idea.” she glared, expecting an explanation.

You swallowed hard before explaining yourself, “Yea, well- I. I figured that this will make things easier for both of us. Things can go back to the way they used to be.” you stressed, avoiding eye contact with the girl beside you in favor of quite literally anything else in the room.

Your words carried a weight, so much had changed in the last month. Was anything really better off before any of this? “You want to go back to the way things used to be between us?” she clarified.

Of course you didn’t want that, but it’s what you convinced yourself that she wanted, “I- I don’t know,” you muttered as the wheels spun in your head, “No?”

Wanda couldn’t help but smile slightly at the state you were in, she found it cute. So indecisive and unsure, no trace of the snarky confidence you used to hold. Instead, you were shrunken in on yourself, merely a shell in her presence, “Then what made you lie to Tony for this?” she pushed for an explanation, as she gestured to the inhibitor she was still holding.

You were feeling overwhelmed now, not knowing the right thing to say. The last thing you wanted was Wanda upset with you. Your breathing began to pick up ever so slightly, something Wanda took notice of, “I- I’m sorry, I thought you’d like it better this way. Without me.” you admitted.

Spinning in her seat so that her entire body faced you instead of the tv, the device in Wanda’s hand vanished as she moved it to rest on your leg for comfort, “Y/N, Why would you think that?”

Your body tensed at the contact of her hand on your thigh, keeping your eyeline low like you were a child being scolded, “Well, it’s just- I feel like i’ve become this responsibility for you, and you shouldn’t have to. I know you hate me, and that’s ok. I deserve it, but it’s not fair for you.” you tried to find the right words to explain your thought process, you werent even sure if it made sense at this point.

Suddenly you felt Wanda’s fingers pulling your chin to force you to meet her gaze, “Hey. I don’t hate you.” she clarified, “Sure we bicker, and get under each other’s skin, but I thought things were getting better.” she affirmed, and you nodded gently in response, “Good girl,” she whispered almost inaudibly, sending a shiver down your spine noticing the hold she had on you without even using her magic, “Regardless, it’s the least I could do, the only reason you even have these powers in the first place is because you saved me.” she admitted.

You didn’t have a response, staring back at her with doe wide eyes waiting for her to make the next move. She removed her grip from your chin and lifted the barrier from between your seats, “Come here,” she patted as she lifted her arm for you to scootch closer. You did as she said, nuzzling into the space she provided. Your shared focus shifted back to the sitcom on the tv as you relaxed into her embrace, “Wanda.” you muttered softly as exhaustion began weighing heavily on your features, and she hummed in response, “I never hated you either.” you admitted.

“I know.”

Taglist: @marvelogic @esposadejoyhuerta @ju-maxi89 @gingiesworld @simpforlizzie @bigbattygyal585 @cakechan123 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @newyork1432 @automaticdinosaurtaco @yellowthingsstuff @marvelwomen-simp @supercorpstan97 @justabrokensunshine @tigerlillyruiz @mythixmagic @paaandiculations @bananasplits-world

[sytoran]

double-edged sword | teom part i

Wanda Maximoff's marriage with her husband is not going too well. To add insult to injury, her new neighbour is pretty fuckin' hot.

──── PAIRING. sub!milf!wanda x dark!player!reader

──── CONT. established wandavision, implied unhealthy coping mechanisms, infidelity, thirsting, unresolved sexual tension, reader uses she/they pronouns

──── WORD COUNT. 1.5k

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

A ray of the morning glow on her eyes takes Wanda out of her sweet slumber. Groggily rubbing at her face, Wanda’s eyes slowly adjust as she scans the room.

Viridescent eyes fall to the empty side of the bed next to her. Of course.

Vision, her husband, had been acting different lately. Private phone calls, late nights at work, leaving early in the morning. She no factual evidence to prove what smelt like infidelity, but it was definitely there and Wanda wasn’t as naive as her husband thought she was.

But well, there was only so much she could do about it.

To any outsider, it might seem like she was already living the high life: With a rich husband who worked as a banker, two sprightly kids who were essentially bundles of joy, a big house with a white picket fence...... She had nothing to complain about, right?

Turns out, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Life was too monotone. too standard, too peaceful, too perfect. Sometimes, Wanda felt like her life was one of those sitcoms she so loved: The picture-perfect family, a portmanteau of situational comedy — But that was it, and that false idealisation of perfection was all Wanda would ever be able to actually achieve.

At the recognition of things going awry, Wanda shudders. the room suddenly wasn’t so comfortable. It was spacious, but it was empty, and it didn’t feel like home.

Home. What was home, anyway?

Was it the nights spent with Pietro and her parents, watching sitcoms and eating stale snacks? Was it her sons’ football games she went to, to cheer them on and scream her lungs out?

Well, either way, it definitely wasn’t how Vision had been treating her.

Wanda lets a soft groan fall from her lips and she stretches. As she’s about to finally get out of bed, the sound of a motorcycle revving from a distance hauls Wanda out of her train of thought.

Her ears prick up, sliding off the covers to look out of the window that had a good view of the house next door.

Wanda watches, with keen eyes, as a moving truck pulls up into the driveway. “Right, I’m getting a new neighbour,” Wanda muses, remembering how Agatha told her last Friday that the Simmons had managed to sell the house for a fair bit and then some more.

A bearded man with long blonde hair gets out of the truck, jogging over to the back to start shifting the boxes.

The brunette is about to shut her curtains and carry on with her day, when a different person pulls up into the driveway on a black motorcycle, then leaping off and kicking the stand in a swift motion. Wanda’s attention is tugged back again, her heart inexplicably thrumming a little faster than normal.

“Thanks, Thor!” the motorcyclist calls out, slapping the older man on the back. “I’ve got it from here!”

Wanda shifts closer to the window, hand gripping the windowsill. There was no explanation for why she was so enthralled by that mysterious woman, with the structured arms and glorious physique.

With a pinch of inquisitiveness, Wanda waits and watches as 'Thor' unloads the truck and drives off with a cheery wave. The tall motorcyclist is left there, face glowing the warm sun, light effortlessly reflecting off their arms.

Wanda peels her eyes from that sin-stained window, shaking her head in a means to stop being a fool. You’ve just been sexually repressed, that’s all, Wanda reasons.

She leaves to make herself a cup of hot tea, but when she’s done she finds herself going back to her bedroom window to stare at the new, hot neighbour again. This time, you’re moving the boxes, a sheen of sweat covering layers of muscle, all the yardwork being unreasonably attractive to Wanda.

“You’re married,” Wanda whispers to herself, eyes going to the wedding photo with vision. It seemed grey, compared to the burst of colours before her eyes.

Despite her chastising, Wanda’s marital state didn’t deter her from the inexplicable enthrallment towards her neighbour, however. When you reached up to stretch, and your black tank top rode up to expose an impeccably-sculpted torso, Wanda let out a shuddering breath.

Almost as if on cue, you chance upon that exact timing to look up at Wanda’s window, and her breath comes to a standstill.

There was no relieving herself from the embarrassing situation. Wanda clutches the cup of tea harder, expression frozen, knowing she must look like some kind of freak. A married lady in her late thirties thirsting over a younger woman in their early twenties?

To Wanda’s surprise and downfall of her beating heart, the motorcyclist sends her a quick wink, and as quickly goes back to unpacking and moving.

Wanda Maximoff’s heart nearly gives out.

She basically throws the curtains shut, collapsing into her bed once again with an embarrassed cry and a suspiciously pleased noise. Already, she finds herself recalling the specks of dirt over their face and arms, their grunts of exhaustion, and that sinful, rouguish, wink.

Shit, living next to someone so effortlessly irresistible was going to be a living hell.

===

Fame was a double-edged sword.

Sure, it seemed like the high life, with countless fans and ungodly amounts of money, and interviews all over the radios, and expensive liquor, and women-

It was never right.

As a basketball player, You were thrown into the unwanted limelight at a mere ten years old – With a play a little too amazing for someone yet to hit puberty, it was all set in stone. From there, you rose through the ranks, faster than the basketball world had ever seen. Match after match, record after record, victory after victory…… it was a means to an end.

A private life was non-existent, something uncalled for, for such an inspirational and famous individual. Celebrity, some might call it. Shoved on a pedestal, more like.

The darker aspects were ugly and scarred. Press interviews so stressful and questions so invading you had to do everything to not throw up there and then. Practice after practice, so grueling and body-wracking, and your head never stopped spinning, and the fans never stopped chanting.

Breakdowns turned into a means for escapism, turned into twisted coping mechanisms. No one knew.

There were……fantasies. Desires. Longing. Wrong, that’s for sure, but it helped. It feasted on you like an apex predator, urging you to tap into it.

You had to escape.

Because fame was a scythe pierced into your neck, missing your jugular vein by mere inches.

Your sweet saviour was something unorthodox, coming in the form of a humble town named Westview. A private area, tucked away and unappealing. There were hardly any residents, and they were of a generally older population.

No media, no paparazzi, no matches, no tournaments. You bought a decently comfy house in less than a month after your discovery. not to appease your public image. Just for you, in fact. Just for you and your much-needed rest.

It was the beginning of something good.

Or so you naively believed.

Remember the aforementioned coping mechanisms? Dark, and twisted little fantasies? Corrupt, and evil, and morally grey?

Well, turns out, your forbidden fruit would happen to lie in the form of your very married next-door neighbour.

===

Yes, your neighbour is hot. Like, really fuckin' hot.

That's the first thing you notice when looking up at the window of the house next door, to find that she was already looking at you.

Your neighbour looked reasonably older than you, but ethereal nonetheless. Slightly curly long brown hair pulled into a bun atop her head, stray hairs somehow impeccably framing her face, small hands gripping onto a teacup adorably.

From a distance, you weren’t graced with the vision of clarity — but from what you could see, the way her green eyes shone, flecks of gold and glimmering with light — you didn’t think your eyes had ever laid on something more breathtaking.

When you winked at her, and she blushed instantaneously while fidgeting with her hands – the desired reaction, by the way – you already knew that your new neighbour would be your latest conquest.

A slow smirk grew on your face, thanking the higher powers that lead you to Westview.

Oh, say it's wrong, to treat a pretty girl like a coping mechanism, to please one after the other, until there were none left.

Then look at me in the eyes and tell me that a pretty girl screaming your name as she falls apart in your hands isn't the best thrill in the world, to conquer and devour and make yourself her world, even if it’s for those few sacred moments.

You shrug off the intrusive thoughts, releasing a short gush of air, reminding yourself once again that you were here for a new change of pace. Your inner urges could take its toll afterwards.

It seemed like keeping those inner urges at bay would prove to be a difficult task, though.

You sigh, averting your attention back the remaining unmoved furniture.

It was going to be a long day.

taglist: @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @nemowevoli @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @jemilyswhor3 @manyfandomsfanvergent @scarsw1fe @jlsammy23 @spongebobs-tie1 @kiyozoe6778 @girllcver @natashaswife4125 @godsfavouritelesbiann @ezay @forthelesbians @wlwfanfictionss @forthelesbians @cowxpoke @supaheroine @saqua14 @olsensnpm @33-mrvl @kellyc30-blog @eatkobi @cqllarbones @lovelyy-moonlight @diannaswhore @shuriri4life @inluvwithfictionalwomen @Cooldogs02 @jedi-athen-orion @alyciaddict @blackqueensforeva @lovelyy-moonlight

series m.list | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Starting Your Freshman Year at Greendale and Joining the Study Group

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Requested by: Anon

Headcanons for being a new freshman at Greendale and becoming a member of the study group?

Ohh sorry i didn’t clarify! it doesn’t matter to me, i just liked the idea of the reader kinda being the baby of the group, so maybe everyone is in their later years at greendale?

Relationship(s): The Study Group (Jeff, Britta, Annie, Troy, Abed, Shirley and Pierce) x gn!reader (platonic)

Warnings: References to underage drinking. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: I started writing this literal years ago, but I rewatched the Community Christmas episodes today and it’s made me want to rewatch all of Community and start writing for it again. Not enough people write for it, and not enough people write gender-neutral-reader fics. This was like 90% done so it was a good place to start again. I went with making it so the reader joins the Study Group during season 3, since I had the idea of using the reader to replace Todd in the episode where none of them want to work with him. I haven’t followed the canon of season 3 verbatim, since it’d have made writing this kinda difficult (plus I haven’t seen season 3 in years). So, this is more general. I’m hoping to work through my list of Community requests from years ago throughout 2024, since I’m hoping to get more into the habit of putting aside time for writing.)

When you decided on taking Biology 101 during your first semester at Greendale, you were bound to learn of (and witness first hand) the notorious Study Group.

Your hope that you wouldn’t be roped into their borderline-narcissistic antics was killed when you were given Pierce Hawthorne as your lab partner.

To say he was annoyed would be an understatement.

Oh boy, did he make it known that he abhorred having to be your lab partner.

In fact, most of them seemed to hate the idea of being stuck as your partner, which was at least a little hurtful.

When Abed rearranged the lab partner pairings based on some mental computer wizardry, you got put with Jeff, who was a bit more subtle with his annoyance.

You spent most of that night standing there awkwardly while Shirley cried about being the least popular member of the Study Group, or trying to be some kind of mediator between these friends who you knew only from rumours and observing them.

You also had to rescue a turtle from being burned alive by Britta, which sent you over the edge into a fit of fury.

Annie was the one who apologised to you for everything, and, much to the chagrin of everyone else, invited you to join the study group.

Perhaps she didn’t expect you to take her up on the offer, but you did anyway.

Your first study session with them made them realise that you fit in well with the group.

Even Abed liked your presence, because he believed it ‘changed the status quo without being like when sitcoms add a kid character in a desperate attempt to boost the ratings’.

(He compared you to Frasier from Cheers)

For a while, though, you did feel a little isolated from the group, considering you were often the only one to comment negatively on the group’s questionable behaviour, which they saw as perfectly normal.

However, you adjusted to being in the group alarmingly fast, to the point of getting carried away in the Study Group mentality like the rest of them.

As the baby of the group, you were treated as such, despite being at least a bit more mature than Troy and Abed.

For example, if Jeff and Britta were in the middle of a heated discussion, you’d be told to ‘stay out of it’.

Abed, early on, would analyse you to figure out how exactly you fit into the group, such as deciding what archetype best describes you.

There’s also a chance that he would create and manipulate situations in order to test your personality.

Jeff would shut this down as soon as he figured out what Abed was doing.

In an effort to try and include you more, Annie would force each member of the Study Group to do an activity with you. 

Annie invited you to a one-on-one study session.

(Also, if you’re taking any classes that she took in her first or second year, she’ll lend you her old materials, like notes, textbooks, study cards etc.)

Shirley took you to the mall with her and her kids, treating you like one of her own kids.

Troy and Abed introduced you to Inspector Spacetime, which you quickly became a big fan of.

(Watching it became a Saturday night ritual for the three of you)

Britta brought you along to a protest which ended in the both of you in jail.

(An irritated Jeff would have to come bail you both out, and Britta would beg him not to say anything about it to Shirley or Annie)

Pierce gave you $1000 to tell Annie that he’d taken you to the zoo.

Jeff invited you over to his apartment for beers, which resulted in you both getting wasted and having a tearful heart-to-heart with one another.

Despite adopting the Study Group mentality to a certain degree, you would be the least susceptible to the group’s dumbassery due to joining so late, which meant you’d often be the one to pull the group out of the stupid shit they were doing.

At the very least, you’d pull Jeff out of it, and he’d take the lead and sort out everyone else.

If you weren’t that close to your family, you’d probably spend holidays over at Shirley’s upon her insistence.

(I love love love the idea that she makes a custom Christmas stocking for you the first year you come over)

In a weird way, the Study Group became your family, albeit a dysfunctional one.

After your friends all graduated, you stayed in touch with most of them, even before you were reunited because of the Save Greendale Committee.

It’s safe to say that, even if you do join late, you’re still accepted as one of them, for better or for worse.

[styleswithaseaview]

begging for jealous tasm peter. ITS A NEED. JUST best friends to lovers 🙏🏼

thank you so much for this request i LOVED writing this. mostly light angst but fluff at the end | tasm!peter x fem!reader, 1.5k words | cw: a little bit of language and one offhanded mention of sex

Your lipstick is smudged, Peter notices. He waits a minute to tell you, not wanting that to be the first thing to say when you come out of your room. Instead, he says

“You look…” his face is contemplative and strained. His lips are pursed and his eyes are slightly squinted like he’s holding himself back; you can’t tell from what. You look down at your feet, inspecting the hem of your dress and the toes of your heels as if they’ve somehow changed since the last time you looked. “...Nice.” He clears his throat. “Clean up well.”

“Am I normally not cleaned up?” You grin at him in an attempt to restore your normal dynamic, waiting for him to make a jest at you then promptly apologize and give an overdramatic speech about how you’re the best best friend in the world to make it up to you. 

He makes a noise from deep in his throat that never makes it all the way out. You think it might’ve been a laugh. 

“Who’s the lucky guy?” his voice is outwardly cheery and teasing, but you know him too well. There’s the smallest trace of bitterness; his upward lilt doesn’t quite quirk up the same, and his words feel too precisely chosen as if each one takes a considerable amount of effort to say. 

You search his face for a clearer indication of his intentions, but he avoids your eye contact.

“Just… a guy Lillith set me up with. You know how it’s been.” He does. You’ve complained to both him and your friend Lillith about how you haven’t gotten a date in months. You felt like guys avoided you like the plague whenever you went out, and worse, some would cancel as soon as you confirmed a date. It was miserable. “His name is Doug, uh, he’s in Kappa Delta Tau. It’s blind, I, uh, haven’t met him yet.”

He nods, eyes fiercely inspecting the wall next to you. “Your lipstick is a little smudged. Just- just there,” he motions on his own face to where the dark red pigment has bled out over your lipline. You try to get it, unsuccessfully. Peter sucks in a breath. 

“Let me just…” you scurry away to the bathroom to fix it, secretly hoping, too, that when you come back the weird awkward tension between you and Peter will be diffused. You’ve lived with each other for almost a year and never had this issue until tonight. It’s throwing you off, that one-minute interaction, and your stomach almost aches with the confusion of it all. 

When you return, Peter is sitting on the couch with a book in hand. It’s something complex and sciencey and you can’t tell whether he’s actively reading or if it’s just something to pass the time. 

“I still have an hour. You want to turn something on?” you ask, sitting on the couch behind him and folding your legs under you. You figure your dress can handle a little wrinkling in favor of checking up on your best friend. 

“Whatever you want.” He briefly glances up from his book before continuing to read. 

“Uh, okay.” You flip through the channels idly, settling on a sitcom you and Peter have both seen a million times. You turn the volume down low and take a breath, trying to face the inevitable question head-on instead of worrying about it all night on your date. “Are you okay, Peter? You seem a little… off.” You try to sound as non-judgmental as possible, scooting slightly closer to Peter. He stiffens.

“I’m fine,” he says, clearing his throat again. “Are you guys, um, having dinner, or do you want me to make something? We have stuff for the pasta we never made last week.”

You breathe a sigh of relief at the relative normalcy, but there is still a palpable tension in the air. 

“I don’t really know what our plans are. He said he was going to pick me up but not much else.”

“Sounds sort of sketchy, Y/N. You sure Lillith knows this guy well? I heard about that one Kappa that-”

“There’s a million different awful frat guy stories, Pete. I know. I’m well aware. Lillith knows him, I’ll be fine.” You’re trying not to get irritated with Peter but this is your one date in forever that it seems is actually going to happen, and if he freaks you out so much you refuse to go then it’s all for nothing. 

“You want me to put my suit on and… keep an eye on you guys? I don’t know, just for a little, make sure nothing goes wrong.” He doesn’t meet your eye. 

“No, Peter, it’s fine, I swear. I’ll be safe.” 

“Call me if you feel the least bit uncomfortable. I’ll come get you. How about you text me every thirty-”

“Peter! I’m not some… some damsel in distress that you need to rescue. I’m a big girl. I don't know why all of a sudden you’re trying to control me or something. I am perfectly capable of being independent, I- This is my first date in forever, and it’s like you don’t trust my judgment and… It’s really pissing me off.” You don’t mince words, and try to pull back tears before you ruin your makeup. Peter softens a little, scooting towards you and trying to put a comforting hand on your arm. You're the one to stiffen this time. 

There’s a beat as Peter decides what to say. Your tear-filled eyes meet his honey-brown ones, loaded with some sort of emotion you can’t decipher. 

“I’m not trying to control you, sweetheart. I’m not. I don't- I just want to protect you.” He says, slowly, as if the words pain him to say. 

“Protect me from what, Peter? Finally getting laid?”

“No, just- He’s… that Doug guy, he’s not good for you.” He grimaces, shaking his head a little bit. 

“What? You don’t even know him. You’ve-you’ve never met him.” You’re nearly exasperated at this point, confused and bewildered that Peter would act like this. He won’t meet your eyes anymore. You take a big breath. “How could you possibly know he’s not good for me?”

“Because he’s not me!” Peter nearly yells, snapping his head to look at you. His response comes immediately after you, practically interrupting you with an unparalleled urgency. It’s as if a ticking time bomb had been simmering this entire time, and it was bound to explode. You’re left dumbstruck. 

There’s a long stretch of silence. You open and close your mouth like a koi fish, trying to speak with nothing to say. You’ve always been in love with Peter. You’d pushed it down until it was invisible, suffocated, fit into a tiny box that only got to see the light during late nights spent crying in your room. He’s your best friend. It’s always been a want-but-can-never-have, and even if you could, you figured it was unrequited. 

In short, this is new information. You don’t know what to say or how to say it, and seemingly neither does Peter. 

“I…” you blubber, staring into Peter’s eyes. “I didn’t know you… I’ve always, um…” you squeeze your eyes shut as if ripping off the bandaid. “...liked you. Well, loved you, really, but I never figured-”

Peter cuts you off with a kiss that satisfies everything you’d ever wanted. It feels like something out of a movie. It rises and crescendos and before you know it you're pulling away for air. A little laugh escapes you, and Peter has the biggest grin on his face you’ve ever seen. Your foreheads are just barely touching, and he presses another small, sweet kiss to your lips. 

“I love you, too, if that wasn’t clear,” Peter says. You smile. 

“So I’ll cancel my date with Doug?” You ask. You think you might have stars in your eyes, or hearts that get bigger the more you stare at him. 

“Fuck Doug. I don't want to hear about Doug.” Peter nuzzles your nose a little, and your stomach lurches from excitement. 

“Yeah?”

“I want to hear about you. You’ve always liked me, huh?” He says a bit cockily. 

“Always. I dunno, I never figured you’d reciprocate,” you reply. 

“Really? I figured it was obvious. You didn’t see the drool coming out of my mouth when you walked out in that little dress?” he smirks, caressing your hip lightly. Your cheeks rouge in response.

“I was too busy looking at the anger in your eyes. Seemed like you wanted to strangle me.”

“I wanted to strangle whoever else got to see you like that. Who you dressed up for.” He kisses your neck, trailing down your exposed collarbone. 

“It’s always for you, Peter. Just you. I chose this dress because I thought you’d like it,” your voice is barely a whisper, but Peter hears you. He always does. 

“I love it. I love you.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

OK OK OK, but can we revisit the daughter "sitcom" scenarios?! I loved them sm.

Imagine Engel is out somewhere, like the store or whatever. Their daughter, who is about 12-13 at the time, just got her first period...😦

She just kinda awkwardly walks into the room and is trying to figure out how to tell him...

Konig is totally panicking, probably frantically calling Engels phone to get home ASAP. Poor boy probably didn't even know that you can get your period at that age and thinks some really bad is happening 😭.

But once everything has settled down, he starts to treat her the same way he treats Engel on her period, maybe even letting her stay home from school.

König is 1000 miles away from his comfort zone

I imagine the conversation goes something like this: (D=daughter, K=König, R/E=reader/Engel)

D: “I think my period just started…”

K: “Ja? Just remember to do your homework.”

D: “No, I mean… I think I just got my first period? I’m bleeding–”

K: “Bleeding? Where?? ”

D: “…??? There...?”

*uncomfortable staring and silence”

D: “I just… Do you know where mom keeps her pads?”

K: “...Pads?”

D: “Dad!! You’re just repeating my words!”

She leaves the room to look for the pads herself while König calls her mother: now imagine a colonel, a commanding officer of thousands of soldiers, responsible for important pre-decisions throughout the whole organization, calling his wife and asking what to do in this kind of a situation 🧍‍♂️ König is rubbing the back of his neck while walking anxious circles in the living room, almost bumps into a sofa while Engel calmly explains what's going on and that this is all completely normal.

When she comes back, König has just closed the phone, sighs, then takes a rather stiff stance to indicate he is about to give an important speech.

“Now then, my pretty young fawn. You are not my little girl anymore… Today, you’ve become a woman–”

“Dad, wtf?!? Ughh….”

She storms out of the room again, about to die from cringe: why does his father have to be such an embarrassment and an awkward mess? Why the hell did her mother even want this odd big loser as her man???

She’s sick of his stupid speeches and ridiculous rules and poor attempts at jokes, she's more than sick of listening to her parents’ disgusting cooing all the time. Only the noise canceling headphones can block out his dad’s profuse lovesick confessions before they start to bonk each other, thinking she can’t hear it all upstairs. Meanwhile she's not allowed to have a life of her own because the "world is a dangerous place"...

She can't wait to get out of this household, especially when even more cringeworthy conversations follow once her mother comes home. The only reason she's eavesdropping is because they're finally speaking of her instead of "how beautiful his sweet Engel looks" or "how silly and clumsy her big bear is":

K: “Does this mean she starts to have boyfriends?”

E/R: “She probably has had a few already.”

K: “What?!”

E/R: “Well not really. They’re just kids, fooling around. I wouldn't worry about it yet.”

K: “Should I talk to her about… you know, birds and bees? Just in case?”

E/R: “You? Absolutely not.”

K: “But–”

E/R: “I’ll talk to her at some point. They probably have sex education at school.”

K: “She can’t go to school. She said she was in pain.”

E/R: *sighs*

K: “What...? I already called them and said she's ill.”

E/R: “She's not ill, silly. It's just a period, it comes every month. You of all people should know...”

K: “Ja, I know... The torture days :)”

E/R: “Torture days for who?”

K: “I'm in so much pain every month, you have no idea...”

(Daughter upstairs makes a furious dive for her headphones :|)

[iovetecchou]

If I Can't Have You... ⧸ Jouno Saigiku

༞ Part 1. Part 2.

༞ Contains…! angst, toxic relationship, emotionally detached / mind broken reader, asshole jouno, mentions of blood and physical pain, minor sexual implications (not directed at reader) slightly? remorseful? jouno?

༞ GN Reader.

༞ 1,246 words.

You couldn’t tell how long it had been since everything had occurred. All you knew was that your life was now different. It was strange, though this different felt oddly familiar.

This contrast was something that settled in your chest. But fogged your mind; something that felt strangely nostalgic. Sure, your new normal was questionable. But at least you didn’t have to lie to yourself anymore, and neither did Jouno.

They always say ignorance is bliss. However, this newfound knowledge had set you free. You were unrestricted from your mind, unrestrained from your feelings, from your body. You didn’t have to worry about yourself anymore. Nothing about you mattered unless Jouno said so. He controlled the strings. Something about relinquishing said control; freed you.

You still woke up to no new messages on your phone. But it didn’t concern you anymore. Nothing seemed to matter to you. You still did your daily routines; cleaning up around the house, picking out Jouno‘s uniforms for the following week, and making meals.

It was as though you were on autopilot. Each day was like clockwork, but this routine was the only sense of stability you had left.

The moment you placed the meal you had prepared atop the dining room table… the door creaked open.

“Princess, I’m home! I knew that divine smell from the hallway was coming from our place. Nothing compares to—”

“My cooking. Come, sit, enjoy while it’s still hot.”

He’s told you the same line—

Over,

And over,

And over again.

You could always predict what he was going to say next. It felt as though you were on some poorly scripted sitcom, secretly anticipating a laugh track to follow. But it never came because these weren’t just lines from a script or some job; that you could walk away from at the end of the day.

No, this was your every waking moment, and it would be until the day you died.

“Ah, you know me so well. Why don’t you join me, hm? I’m sure it took you ages to prepare this dish for me—“

“I’m not hungry. I’ll give you some space to eat now.”

Jouno quirked a brow at your choice of words but decided to shake off your dismissive attitude, regardless.

“Some company would be nice. But if you don’t want to, I won’t force you… I’ll just call— ah… what was their name again? The person I was… tangled up with at my office the other week? Oh, I guess their mouth was a little preoccupied at the time so I didn’t quite catch their name. But, I can just call them up to keep me company instead.”

“If that’s what you want, Saigiku.”

You didn’t so much as flinch when those venomous words left Jouno’s lips. Your heartbeat remained on a steady rhythm. No spiked blood pressure and your tone of voice was eerily calm. Jouno was taken aback, by your lack of concern. Sure, he said all those things to get a rise out of you; but no give.

Jouno didn’t even recognize you. For weeks you’ve been a zombie. Following his every order and never contradicting his words. At first, this was best case scenario for the blind king himself. But… you weren’t anything anymore. Sure, you might have been there physically, but mentally? You were checked out. No semblance of life— or will to continue. You were just… there.

Jouno began to wonder if he took things too far. If he broke you beyond the point of return. He quickly pushed those thoughts into the depths of his mind. Besides, he had no reason to feel guilty. He was the entire reason you had a roof over your head. Food filling the kitchen, and books lining the shelves for your enjoyment.

Except, you hadn’t picked up a book in ages. Jouno noted. You used to read a few chapters of whichever book you were currently infatuated with to him each night before bed, but not anymore. And he couldn’t recall the last time you ate. Jouno secretly hoped you had proper meals when he wasn’t around— wait. Was he… beginning to show some concern for you? No, this needed to stop. Now.

“Y/N… Stop this nonsense immediately. Time for fun and games is over.”

“Was the food not good tonight, Saigiku? I’m sorry, I can make you something different. I’ll be sure to make enough for your unnamed guest as well. Do you think they’ll be here soon? I’ll start right away if so.”

Just what the fuck had he done. The old Y/N would never function this way or say these things. He didn’t love you by any means, but he tolerated you. And maybe some things you did in the past amused him. But you were nothing more than an empty husk now. Jouno knew now that he did push it too far with you. And he could hardly suppress that stomach-dropping feeling that crawled up his spine; remorse.

Jouno quickly sat up from his place at the dining room table, making quick strides toward you. Your back was facing him as you now made yourself busy with cleaning some of the dirty dishes that piled up.

Jouno grasped your shoulders firmly, spinning you on your heel, finally gaining your full attention.

“Y/N, I said cut it out! I hate what you’ve become. I want you to stop this. All of this. Immediately!”

“Stop? Stop… what?”

His hands gripped your shoulders even fiercer in frustration, but you didn’t care. The pain didn’t bother you much anyway.

“Y/N please… alright— look, I’m sorry. There? Are you happy now? Can you stop fucking with me now?”

“Sorry? For… what?”

Jouno scored his bottom lip with his teeth in frustration. Drawing blood from how hard he had done so. You truly had no clue what he was talking about. This wasn’t just some ruse; you were gone. Even if he tried to pick up the pieces and attempt to put you back together… so many core components of you were missing. Irreplaceable ones.

“Have I… upset you, Saigiku?”

Your hands came up to wipe a few stray tears that managed to slip past Jouno’s closed eyelids.

He hadn’t even noticed that he was… crying. Until he felt your cold hands swipe over his newly dampened cheeks. He couldn’t help but laugh at how ironic all of this was.

Jouno was always the dismissive one when it came to feelings and emotions. But the roles were now reversed.

“Y/N, if you’re still in there somewhere, please just say something— give me a sign, just— anything!”

“Still in… where? I’m right here, Saigiku. I don’t think I understand what you want from me this time.”

The tears flowed freely down his reddened cheeks at this point. Jouno could care less about how he appeared at this very moment. He was desperate.

He didn’t want anyone else to have you. That’s why he isolated you and broke you down the way he did. But the person standing before him wasn’t… you. You weren’t much of anything anymore. The worst part of it all? Jouno was responsible for doing this to you.

“Y/N… I’m going to step out for a little while. I’ll be back tomorrow, perhaps.”

“Okay. Same time tomorrow?”

Jouno hesitated for a moment from your familiar words. His hold on your shoulders loosened as he took a moment to compose himself, taking in a shaky breath before he uttered,

“Indeed, same time tomorrow.”

[steventhusiast]

more autistic steve with ARFID (avoidant restrictive food intake disorder) because i’m having the worst time i think i’ve ever had in my life and can only cope by projecting :] CW: disordered eating

part 1

—

steve’s pretty sure he’s never hated himself more than he does in this moment.

he’s perched on the edge of the couch, one knee bouncing with anxiety, and in front of him on the coffee table sits a homecooked meal. eddie’s gone through the process of making him a plate of mac and cheese from a box, which is a big deal because eddie is not a great cook. but he still made this for steve.

so there’s this lovely, warm meal sitting in front of steve that he used to love, and all he can do is stare at it. in the background, sounding somewhat fuzzy and muted to his ears as he continues his staring, he can hear eddie singing to himself as he cleans up the kitchen, and the sound of a sitcom laugh track as family ties plays on the tv.

after a minute, eddie comes to sit next to him, and gently puts a hand on his knee to help slow down the bouncing.

“hey, no pressure, okay? you eat what you can.” eddie says as he rubs his thumb back and forth over steve’s knee. the words should feel comforting, but they sit like guilt in steve’s gut.

he desperately wants to eat the food, knows it will make him feel less tired and sustain him more than the junk food he’s been managing recently, but it’s hard. it’s like he can hear boss music in his mind as he picks up a fork and stabs a single piece of macaroni.

he manages to put it in his mouth, counts to 20 as he chews and works himself up to be able to swallow it, and then has to jump up from his seat and pace as he feels it go down his throat. eddie startles a little as he does so, and he shakes his hands out at his sides as he walks back and forth, back and forth in front of the tv.

it feels like cement in his throat, doesn’t feel like it goes all the way down as the sensation of food being in his throat and chest lingers uncomfortably.

“stevie, can you take a breath for me?” eddie tries, but steve shakes his head vehemently and continues his walking. as the seconds go by, his steps get slower and less frantic, and eventually he picks up the fork again, repeats the process.

this is the first time eddie’s really seen him struggle with food properly. steve knows he knew, because they’ve talked about it a lot, but this is the first time eddie’s seeing it. steve’s filled with embarrassment, but he can’t cope with the task of eating without his pacing, without his hands flapping, without fighting back tears and feeling like he’s choking each bite down.

it doesn’t go like this every time. there are safe foods that are easier to get down, and some days where eating feels more like a normal part of his every day. but today? today it feels like he’s been tasked with eating rocks.

“can’t do it.” he whispers out after five pieces of macaroni.

he falls back onto the couch, and eddie’s hand is immediately pulling him into him by the waist so he can try to comfort him. steve’s a little shocked to feel tears on his face as he smushes it against eddie’s shoulder.

“can’t, can’t, can’t…” he whimpers, and eddie’s hand settles on his hip, rubbing gentle circles into him.

“shh, it’s okay. i’m proud of you for trying.”

steve shakes his head against eddie’s shoulder. how pathetic is he, that his boyfriend has to be proud of him for managing to eat five pieces of food from a kids meal?

eventually, he stops hiding his face in eddie’s shoulder, and vacantly watches the tv. tears are still dripping down his face, slow and steady, but now that he’s stopped eating, he feels like he’ll be okay. he just has to give his body an hour and he won’t be able to feel the measly amount he ate sitting like rocks in his stomach.

hopefully, anyway.

-

part 3

[sainzfilm]

🛬 snowed in - lando norris 🛬

summary: wanting to come home for the holidays led you to being stuck at the airport due to the snowstorm. what’s a better way than to spend it with a cute stranger?

taglist: @svechyaho @squderia @idkiwantchocolatee @melonunicornbby @koufaxx @myescapefromthislife @slut-era @pachiibatt @estevries @sidcrosbyspuck @barzysreputation @mick2mercedes @mehrmonga

check out my winter wonderland celebration!

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

“Mom, I’m telling you,” You groaned, leaning back against the uncomfortable chairs at the airport, “I’m stuck here at the airport for Christmas eve!”

“That’s a shame,” She replied, sighing a few seconds later, “I hope the snowstorm halts real soon.”

Picking at the loose threads of your sweater, you sighed, “It has to. I don’t want to get stuck here, it’s just shit.”

Clicking her tongue, your mother chuckled softly, “Just rest up, darling. I’ll see you soon.”

With a sigh, you shoved your phone in your bag and crossed your arms while looking out the snowstorm from the inside of the cozy airport. Looking around, you could tell how distressed the people were from not being able to come home to their families for the holidays.

As you made your way to the vending machine, you stood there and thought about the snacks that could help you out of your boredom.

“So, have you made a decision yet?”

You turned around to an unfamiliar face standing behind you, arms crossed and a teasing smile on his face, “Why are you nagging me?”

“Because I want to purchase my snacks too,” He replied, waving a bill in his hand, “And you’re taking a long time.”

“I was here first, you can wait,” You rolled your eyes, inserting your bill into the machine, “You’re impatient.”

“No I’m not,” The young man scoffed, “My name’s Lando.”

“Well, you’re…” You mumbled, reaching down to grab your soda and few candy bars with a bag of chips and turning to look at him, “Awfully pathetic at your jokes.”

“Oh, c’mon, that was a nice attempt,” Lando grinned and took his turn at the vending machine, “You have to tell me your name in return.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, you laughed, “Nice attempt? That’s your best shot?”

“How else was I supposed to approach you?” He retorted, taking a bite from his chocolate bar and walking alongside you, “It was the only…non-awkward way.”

“For starters, you could’ve just said hi like a normal person would do,” You rolled your eyes and sat down on the table of a closed restaurant, “My name’s Y/N.”

“Sweet, I got your name,” Lando grinned, sitting across you and drinking from his soda bottle, “So, wanna spend time together?”

Looking at him with a Twizzler in your hand, you shrugged, “Are you going to murder me because you’re a strange man I met at the airport?”

Feigning offense, Lando reached over to steal a Twizzler, eliciting a whine from you, “Yes I am.”

“Nice choice of sitcoms, you got me there,” You grinned, leaning back on the chair, “Intellectual for watching New Girl.”

“You wound me, Y/N,” He replied, a hand to his chest, “I am a man of culture.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, mumbling, “Except for trying to talk to girls.”

Lando snickered, admiring the way your eyes twinkled as you looked at him, “So, what shall we do for the remaining time we’re stuck here?”

Two hours later, the two of you are seated upside down and laughing about the stupidest things you’ve managed to talk about while chewing on another pack of Swedish Fish.

“One time, I got scolded for laughing because my friend passed out,” You laughed, munching on the gummy, “That teacher got mental over that thing!”

Lando laughed alongside you, wiping tears from his eyes, “Why would you even laugh at such a serious moment?!”

“I have bad humor,” You turned to look at him, trying to look serious, “Not appropriate at all.”

“Guess you’re my kind of woman,” He teased, “You think this snowstorm’s gonna pass?”

“To be honest with you,” You trailed off, a small smile on your face, “I’m in between about it.”

Lando sat up properly, helping you to do so as well, and nudged your shoulder, “You enjoyed my company, hm?”

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Of course I did, why would I stick by you for two hours if I didn’t?”

“It’s gonna suck when the snowstorm passes,” He admits, crumpling the plastic bag and shoving it in his pocket, “I would’ve liked to spend time with you more.”

Pausing for a moment, you frowned and looked at him, “I’ve never asked you about what flight you’re on, haven’t I?”

“Huh, I guess you haven’t but,” Lando trailed off, turning to look at you, “I’m on the 10.30 pm one to London.”

Eyes widening, you choked out, “Mine too!”

“No shit Sherlock!” Lando exclaimed, a grin breaking out on his face, “What seat are you on?”

As you pulled out your ticket, you read out to him, “I’m on 12B.”

“You know something,” He responded, pulling his ticket out and showing it to you, “I’m actually seated on 12C.”

Staring at each other for a moment, the two of you burst into laughter, “What if I told you none of this is accidental?”

“So now you’re quoting Taylor Swift,” Lando grinned, raising an eyebrow, “I’m definitely taking you out after Christmas.”

[kastelixa]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ I love you in the worst way!

Title from Using You by Mars Argo

summary: Leon can’t bring himself to love you the way you love him.

cw: Reader has fem body parts, smut no penetration, oral, ANGST no comfort!, set relationship, unrequited love?, reader is very selfless lol, Leon brings himself down a lot, Leon is kind of an asshole SORRY lol, very bad body image, self loathing, puppy analogies!!

note: wahhhh i’m not so good at writing plot related things LOL i’m so used to just writing silly smut! so HOPEFULLYY this isn’t corny omg :3 ALSO!!! VENDETTA LEON!!!

wc: 2,879

The house feels empty, the harsh slap of rain padding against the windows making you dissociate and lose awareness of your surroundings. Blue light shines on your frame, the TV in front of you playing random pictures of a lighthearted sitcom. You’re not even paying attention, none at all. Restless, that’s what you feel. Like something claws at you from inside, but you can’t decipher it. It tugs at your heart and splashes ice at your insides. Lonely. That’s what you feel.

No wonder your eyes keep wandering, flittering towards the clock and back to the display in front of you. Leon is supposed to be back by now. It's been hours. Specifically, four since he said he would return. The abandoned smell of dinner feels like a punch to the gut, taunting you for what could have been. Your stomach grumbles with hunger, but you pay no mind to it. If it were Leon, he would have waited for you. Right? Right. Shaky sighs escape your lips, unease starting to spread like a rapid wildfire. The pit forming in your belly makes you nauseous, body threatening to purge what little it had inside

This shouldn’t be normal, but it is. Wait hours for your beloved to arrive, only to get some flimsy excuse as to why he couldn’t make it. ‘I got called back to work. I got set back. Sorry, too tired.’ And yet you forgave him every time. You wanted to get mad, maybe lash out and demand the attention you oh so craved. But you could never. He’s told you why. He’s tired, job is too demanding. Always coming back with more bruises and aches than before. You should understand, right? He just doesn’t have time for you. There are more important things to worry about than someone who nags you left right and center. He lets you know every time.

Your eyelids start to feel heavy, vision blurring at the corners as exhaustion begins to seep in. The couch feels uncomfortable, cushions rough on your skin. Everything lacks the tranquility you once adored, replaced by a feeling akin to misery and dismay. However, just as you’re about to knock out cold, the distant jingle of keys and rustling behind the front door jars you awake. Blinking, you snap your neck towards the direction of the offending noises, heart rabbiting against your chest in a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Like a pooch eager to greet its master. How endearingly pathetic.

Sitting up, you almost wobble over with how disoriented you feel. The door opens, and there goes all your hopes and dreams. The apple of your eye. There at the entrance stands Leon, your lifeboat. The man that has you groveling at his feet. He looks exhausted, icy blue eyes hooded and sharp, full of an intensity that makes you cower yet thrive. As soon as his eyes land on you, he sighs. It’s a big, long, drawn-out sigh. One that insinuates he didn’t want any part of this– of you. It’s enough to make you wilt and look away in shame, but not enough to fully repel you. “Leon,” your voice comes out as shaky, but eager nonetheless. You missed him, is all. Didn’t he feel the same way too? “I missed you,” you breathe out.

It’s not like he doesn’t like you. But there’s just something about the way you look at him like he’s someone to worship. It makes him feel gross. Guilty, even. Knowing he can’t be the person you want him to be. “Yeah?” he replied gruffly, not finding the confidence within himself to say it back. To love you back. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he says instead, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. He doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t even want to look at you. Closing and locking the door behind him, he busies himself in seeking out some whiskey to nurse from the kitchen. You follow.

“I was worried,” you said, brows furrowed and lips curving into a small frown. Full of concern, full of unconditional love. You’re practically flooded with it. “you missed dinner, and it was getting dark—“ “Jesus, yeah yeah, I get it.” He cut you off harshly, hand raised in a ‘be quiet’ gesture meant to placate you. It does as intended, your mouth snapping shut almost immediately. How pitiful. How callous of him. Your eagerness to please only serves to frustrate Leon further. Why are you like this? It’s like you’re a damn dog he picked up from the pound. So sweet and kind, so skittish around him.

And here he is, acting like an ungrateful asshole. You shifted in place, fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt nervously. With your eyes downcast and your head low, it’s enough to make him feel guilty. Leon grimaced, looking away from you in favor of the booze kept in the fridge. Whiskey feels great down his throat. The burn is enough to take his mind off of things, like stinging syrup that punishes just as much as it pleases. As soon as he gets his hands around the neck, he takes a long swing, tilting his head back as if he couldn’t get enough.

Slamming it back down onto the kitchen counter, he let out a quiet groan, dreading what could follow. “Listen,” he starts reluctantly, “I just need some space, alright? Some fucking time to think.” His tone is cold and it carries an edge, sharp enough to pierce through the entire culmination of your being. “So quit your nagging, and get off my ass already. All you do is bother me.” his little uncalled-for rant proceeds, and he knows very well how cruel he’s being. Considering the way tears bead at your waterline, and the way your bottom lip trembles, he knows he crossed a line. But that can’t be helped, now can it? It’s for the better— to keep you a distance away. It’s for the better, is what he tells himself every day.

But really, there’s no reason for him to treat you like this. Like you’re unwanted and unneeded. Maybe he’s so used to being demeaning and mean that it comes naturally. Maybe he despises you. Maybe he’s in denial. He doesn’t deserve such a sweet thing like you. Doesn’t deserve your kind gestures and words. Not your gentle touch or your caring looks. Even though deep down, through the brambles and wires that shield his heart, a profound longing aches. Every time he hurts you, he only makes it worse for himself. Maybe it’s what he needs.

Your spirits are understandably crushed, as they always were around him. You always came back for more. Always loved like a dog. No matter how beaten down you were, you always came back with your tail between your legs and love in your eyes. It makes him sick. He can hurt you, but you would still follow him around devotedly. And it hurts. It hurts so much that he’d rather break you down until there was nothing left, until you finally saw that he’d never love you the way you loved him.

“Okay,” you murmur, sniffling as fat tears slipped down your cheeks. First one, then two, then three. “I’m sorry,” you apologize. You always apologize. Leon hates seeing you cry. You know that. So you do your best in wiping away those tears, willing yourself not to cry and make Leon hate you even more. Is there something wrong with you? It’s a thought that always seems to crawl back from the grave, making you spiral into self-deprecation. Is there something wrong with your face? Are you too ugly? Too fat? Too naive? Too much you? You’ve always tried to change, always tried to change for him.

Dresses made you feel too exposed. Nail polish chipped when you chewed at your fingers. Makeup made you feel like a pig pretending to be pretty. Nothing works. Nothing ever works. Leon kept his eyes on the bottle of whiskey. The smell and lingering taste taunted him, calling out to him like a siren song. But he can’t bring himself to drink now. He feels sick. Like he just ruined something for good, yet couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. The guilt and shame is grueling, and he can’t handle it. He’d never be able to. So when panic starts to rise, he does the first thing he can think of.

With a sigh, he slowly turned around, watching silently as tears continued to stain your heartbroken face.

He can’t be with you.

Stepping closer, his hands rested on your shoulders, before gently pulling you in close enough to envelop you in his warmth. With his arms wrapped around you tight, he buried his face into your hair. You smelled nice. Felt nice. But he didn’t want to think about that right now. Not now, not ever. “It’s okay,” he says. Not sorry. Just, it’s okay. You’re to blame. “Don’t cry.” his lips then find your forehead. He plants delicate kisses along your heated skin, to your cheeks, lips, and neck. Just don’t cry.

He shudders, the warmth you have to offer making him feel uneasy. You shiver in delight. He feels awful; you feel hopeful. Soft kisses turn into nips and suckles, the tender touching gradually converting into careless groping. Just have to get it over with. Your mewls make his ears ring and his heart skip a beat, and he tries so hard to ignore it. To ignore you. He tries to picture someone else's face. But he can’t. He squeezes your hips, digs his fingers into your thighs, and kneads your chest. He’s being too rough. But you don’t seem to mind. The attention is enough to make you happy. He’ll take it as a win.

Without thinking, he crashes his lips into yours, grunting when your tongue seeped out tentatively to brush against him. He feels dirty, but he lets you in. Immediately taking control, his hand cups the back of your head, accidentally getting some of your hair tangled in between his fingers— but oh well. The kiss is sloppy. Messy and disgusting. You have no idea how to kiss. He’s your first. Something that has him forcibly swallowing down the newly formed lump in his throat. Your first. He pushes himself to bid any thought goodbye. Get this over with, Leon.

After some stumbling around, you two eventually find the bed. Tangled in the sheets without modesty, with only thin sheens of sweat coating you. Clothes came off one by one, each article discarded and thrown about mindlessly, “Leon,” you moan softly. The sound of your voice drives him crazy. Makes him get lost in thought as he plays with your body. He tweaked your nipples, pinched the inner skin of your thighs, and bit down wherever he could. You gazed up at him as if he were the greatest man on earth. He isn’t. And he wishes he could turn off the lights— but he doesn’t want to risk making you cry again. His pants felt restrictive, each twitch his cock gave made him shift uncomfortably. At least he could still get it up.

His hand finally snakes down to your sex, the pads of his fingers tracing and gliding along the silky folds of your cunt. He doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve you. He parts the lips of your pussy, watching intently as slick strands of wetness clung to your skin like translucent spiderwebs. Pretty. He hunches, switching position so that he can lay comfortably in between your legs.

Without giving you much time to process, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss onto the hood of your clit, groaning lowly when you rewarded him with a squeak. This is too much. He shouldn’t be enjoying this. But he is. Laying his tongue flat on your cunt, he curled it onto your pudgy bud, lapping and swirling gently like a puppy with a bowl of milk.

You taste sweet. Salty. The musky scent was enough to make his nostrils flare and his chest tighten in desire. Shouldn’t be wanting. Shouldn’t think so selfishly. But he can’t help himself. Feels like he has to. You’re barely coherent, needy mews and desperate cries falling from parted lips. He must be doing something right. So he keeps going. “Leon!” you whine, pretty eyes droopy with desire and love. He can’t bring himself to meet them without feeling some sense of shame.

He doesn’t speak, just focuses on the tangy taste on his tongue. His fingers dig gently into the fat meat of your thighs, guiding them to part some more. Taking advantage, he slips his tongue in further, fluttering it into your sloppy hole. You’re messy, instantly coating his face with sticky slick and hot warmth. Makes him groan and gain newfound hunger. Your back bows off the bed, fingers shaping into claws and digging into the moist sheets below, holding on for dear life as if that would ground you. It feels like you’re quite literally getting the soul sucked out of you, yet you’re happier about the fact that Leon acknowledged you today. That Leon was nice to you. That Leon was actually touching you. It makes your heart throb more enthusiastically than your cunt.

Satiated with eating your hole, Leon drifted upward, his lips latching onto your clit like a babe with a teat. He suckled almost ferociously, the suction enough to make you see god himself. With a loud sob that devolved into a whimper, searing white pleasure flashed behind your eyelids, numbness branding you briefly. All you could feel was the light tremble in your limbs and the silent tears that trickled down your cheeks. The coil that had tightened impossibly so inside of you had snapped, gushing out in the form of wetness between your thighs. It wasn’t until you felt familiar arms wrap around your shoulders that your senses came back to you; as did your vision. With breaths coming out in the form of soft puffs and pants, you could barely register the soft murmuring against your ear.

His skills must be good if he got you this dumb from just his tongue. He hasn’t gone through anything sexual in ages. Just assumed that he had lost his spark or something. Maybe not. Leon was somewhat concerned, yet amused. Either you’re really sensitive— or really easy. “You okay?” he whispered softly, eyes intent on your face. He waits for a moment, “Yeah,” you mumble quietly, “Yeah,” you nod, a cute smile playing on your lips, “I'm okay.” Then your eyes widen slightly, as if you’d forgotten something. “Wait,” you stutter, “What about you? I- I wanna make you feel good too,” you urge, the pleading look in your eyes enough to make him feel queasy.

Forcing a soft smile onto his face, Leon shook his head. “No,” he refuses, “it’s alright. This was all about you, sweetheart.” he croons, the pet name slipping off his tongue unusually. “Don’t worry about me.” He says.

But you are. You are worrying. You always worry about him. Even with the way he looks now, with his face covered in your juices and the smell of your pussy. Really, couldn’t you just focus on yourself for once? He can see you about to plead again, but one authoritative look and you quickly shy away, ducking your head like a scolded puppy. One of the reasons he couldn’t let you go. Had to keep you around. Just had to, even with the way he treats you. You’re just so sweet. Way too kind for him. “Okay… if you say so…” you mumble dejectedly, making him sigh.

“Don’t pout,” he chides, rough hands reaching out to tentatively cup your face, squishing your cheeks together and pursing your lips. He studies your face, taking in everything from the light flutter in your lashes to the way you look at him in pure adoration. Too sweet for him. You get lost in his eyes, transfixed by the guarded vulnerabilities he refuses to set free for anyone. Before you could think too much about it though, he had stolen a kiss. His lips melded into yours, flesh locking together delicately. It was a far cry from his previous display of force and hunger, now replaced by a more shy approach— as if he were nervous.

It’s enough to take your breath away and make your heart skip a beat. Eagerly reciprocating, the sudden craving to feel his warmth against yours eats away at you. Leaning closer, a delighted noise escaped your lips when he followed, bodies now flush against one another. The disconnect was still there, but you refused to acknowledge it, refused to even think about it. You had Leon, and Leon had you. He was all you had, all you needed. He didn’t need you, didn’t want you like you wanted him. The pretty lies and false affections made up for it though, even if it were all a mirage.

You always tried. Always sought out more. Late at night, it’s especially cold. Even if he sleeps by your side, you could never seem to reach him.

“Leon,” you’d say, “I love you.”

…

“I know.”

[romanoffsbish]

Picture It… New York, 2022

WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Bishova 🥰

My take on a sick Wanda who can’t exactly contain her powers 😂❤️

Warning: Petty Natasha, Sad Reader for a blink | 3,386 Words

Sitcom Inspo (In Order) : I Love Lucy, Golden Girls, Friends, Bewitched.

“Where’s Wanda?,” Yelena mused over her mug of cocoa, the whipped cream on her nose made it hard for you to answer her over the laugh bubbling in your throat, and you settled into Nat’s hold when she answered instead., “Our little witch is asleep, she woke up with a high fever so we quarantined her in the room.”

“Oh no, do you think she’ll be okay by the end of the week?,” Kate’s true question wasn’t lost on you., “Don’t worry Bishop, no cold will keep her from perfecting your upcoming nuptials.,” your girlfriend chuckled beneath you., “Yeah, Wanda would never let an ailment keep her from planning a wedding. She actually had the flu while finalizing ours.,” you shivered at the nasty memory, a snotty nosed brunette with her hands all over the flower arrangements that you and Natasha slyly replaced as soon as she fell into her coma like sleeping state.

While the lot of you sat on the couches catching up, with the two of you occasionally teasing the engaged couple about what the future holds there was another storm a brewing just right out of your eyesight. Clouds of red billowed out from just beneath the closed bedroom door, slowly traveling throughout the hallway of your homey loft, and with no one’s concern falling to the encroaching smoke you were all in the dark on what was to come; literally. The smoke had permeated all of your minds, your bodies instantly slumping against the surfaces behind you as you’re all forced into a restless sleep.

The darkness slowly began to lift for you, and as you looked around you were stunned to see it was only you, and Yelena in a room that was completely foreign to you. Neither of you said a word, both too busy trying to figure out where you had ended up; wondering if some enemy of sorts might’ve slipped a hallucinogenic into your buildings water pipes. Then you heard a creaking noise, looking down you noticed you were both in aprons, with weird hats on, you blinked rapidly too, wondering if you’d suddenly become color blind, but the action never changed the visuals around you.

“Ladies!,” you turned to see Nat stood behind you, face stern, but with eyes just as confused as your own., “This will be your last chance to impress this company, the parchment paper here is for you to wrap the sushi rolls, not a single one should make it into the next room unwrapped; if they do, you’re both likely to be terminated.,” and as soon as the two of you hummed your understanding she was gone out the other door that led into a long hallway.

It became apparent to all of you that though you couldn’t verbalize, as Wanda controlled the dialogue, that you could still convey messages through your expressions. Yelena looked to you dumbfounded, waving her arms about as if to say ‘did this witch really turn us to black and white?,’ and you looked to her with an equally as dumbfounded look before the sound of the conveyor belt caught your attentions.

Sushi rolls began to speed by the both of you, and you were surely perplexed, because if you remember the iconic scene at all, you knew it was chocolates that Lucy and Ethel were meant to be handling. A soft chuckle reverberated in your mind at the tiny variation your lover must have made, knowing it was likely influenced by the dinner you and your girlfriends shared a couple nights prior; Wanda’s love for sushi transcended the normal worlds bounds.

“Yelena, what are we meant to do?,” you spoke frantically, your hands now flying around out of your control, you believe in an attempt to emphasize the unfolding catastrophe.

“I’m not sure, maybe if we eat some it’ll make the mess less?,” the blonde looked to you with an unimpressed gaze, clearly she wasn’t a fan of her given dialogue., “That sounds like a quick way to get fired, and we need this job.”

“Good, this place sucks, look at the sushi rolls. Not even filled enough, and the belt is clearly being run by satan himself.,” she grumbled while popping a roll into her mouth, then promptly spitting it out., “That’s disgusting.”

A laugh reel echoed behind the both of you, and your soul nearly left your body at the boom of it, then the sound of multiple footsteps echoed dramatically from the hallway outside the door. Yelena looked to you in a panic, then the both of you nodded and began to shovel the rolls into your aprons, then when they were full it was into the hats on your head, and when all else failed the both of you began to shovel them down your throat in an attempt to hide your obvious failure’s from the incoming bosses.

Wanda and Natasha entered the room with angered expressions, Kate was behind them with a clipboard in her hand, and a nervous smile that fell as soon as the women spoke., “Ladies, it’s come to our stock counter’s attention that only ten rolls have made it into the following room, care to explain where the rest managed to go?,” Wanda’s pointed stare told you she knew exactly where they went, of course she did, she was the all seeing puppet master in this weird dream state anyways.

Yelena looked beyond you., “We run now?,” you followed her gaze to the door then nodded. As soon as you passed the threshold the world was now in color, and you were stood outside of a quaint, large home that not so shockingly matched the street full of real estate.

Inside the house were the other four women, all in the most hideous of ‘mumu’s.’ Well, all of them outside of Wanda, who instead wore a gorgeous red dress, her bosom’s prominently on display, with a full face of makeup to boot.

“Natasha dear, can you grab the cheesecake?,” the redhead did as asked, not that she had much of a choice. She settled it down on the table in front of an uncharacteristically quiet Kate who was deep in thought., “Kate, honey, what’s on your mind?,” internally she cringed, never in her life would she ask the eager girl such a question, she never had the time necessary for the long winded answers.

“Well—.,” before Kate could spin into a story, Yelena slammed the door open, with a butchers knife raised high, cackling wildly at the sight of the terrified women clutching their chests., “Yelena! That isn’t funny!,” Natasha shrieks, and the blonde deadpans., “To you, but to me that was hilarious. All of your silly, scared faces bring me immense joys.”

“Yelena, take a seat, and hush your mouth.,” Natasha groaned, pulling her own chair into the table and slamming her fork into her slice of cheesecake before bringing it to her mouth. Surprisingly she could taste it, the creamy texture was clear on her tongue, and internally she was beaming at the fortunate discovery.

“Anyways.,” Kate blurts, an innocent look in her eyes as she goes to answer Nat’s question., “I was thinking about this time back in my youth.,” Yelena groaned unabashedly, but Kate just continued on., “Schenectady, NY, I was on the tractor with my daddy when a rogue pig began to run through the fields.,” she giggled., “I was about to end up making unintentional bacon, but then fortunately for us Mr. Wiggles squealed loudly.,” the knock you placed on the front door had the kitchen erupting in cheers as Kate’s story was once again put on pause.

“That must be my date.,” Wanda purred, then left the kitchen to open the door for you, her eyes trailed down your body, appreciating the floral suit you put on—that she chose—a hand reached for yours, and you shyly accepted it., “Let me introduce you to my friends kotenok.,” she chuckled when your head dropped, it was so easy to fluster you—truly—it was her favorite thing to do, she’ll never stop flirting with you.

As the door to the kitchen was swung open all the women’s eyes fell to you, and the redheads widened at the sight of you., “Y/N?,” you were not sure your role here outside of Wanda’s date, but now you realized your plot was deeper., “Nat? Long time no see.,” she scoffed, “Yeah, since you dumped me with no reason.”

Internally you cringed, your poor girlfriend was typecast as Dorothy—a great character, but poor thing was the butt of single-hood jokes, and you worry for your other girlfriends sake; Natasha will not hold back her thoughts later.

“Well, it’s clear you all have better things to do. Y/N and I will be going to dinner now.,” Wanda cleared the rooms tense atmosphere with words that weren’t to be questioned., “And if you play your cards right, you’ll be enjoying your dessert in no time.,” she whispered into your ear while pushing you back into the living room, but when you spun around the scene had completely changed.

No longer were you in the living room designed from an 80’s catalog, but instead you stood in a quaint two bedroom apartment in you assumed to be upper Manhattan based on the purple door with the yellow frame around the eyehole. Just as you were about to explore the space the door flew open, and all of your friends piled in.

“Yelena, you can’t be serious.,” Kate whines while following the blonde to the couch. “Oh, but I am Kate Bishop! As serious as a heart attack!,” she exasperates., “You’re going to deny the poor girl a second date over fries?”

“No, of course not, don’t be silly Kate, it’s all about what the fries represented to me!”

“Which is?” she humors the blonde., “All food!”

The brunette looks back to you pleadingly., “Can you believe this?,” you chuckle and nod., “Yelena doesn’t share food Kate, I once saw her wrestle with a seagull to get her fries back.,” the younger girls eyes widened, turning back for confirmation and receiving it by way of the blonde’s smirk., “I don’t share food Kate.,” she winked, then to prove her point she slapped the girls hand away from her chocolate muffin.

Natasha settled her body behind yours, arms wrapping around your waist, with her chin resting on your shoulder., “Have you given more consideration to going out with me yet?,” you rolled your eyes and shrugged the woman off you., “Natasha, we’ve been over this, you are not getting a second chance with all of this. Not my fault you slept with someone else.”

The redhead groaned as you walked out of her reach., “Y/N! We were on a break! Let it go.”

Your eyes widened while facing the fridge, the witch was two for two now with the typecasting mistakes, Natasha being Ross—though kinda hilarious, will likely not sit well with her.

Wanda threw her hands in the air, effectively silencing the words she’d almost let you say., “Knock it off, the both of you, the argument is tired and I need your help to decide if this is good enough for Vis’s work potluck tomorrow.”

All the hairs on your body stood up at the name of her former partner, it stung a bit that she would typecast him in place as her Chandler, but it wasn’t like you had any time to really care when you were being physically propelled towards the dining room table.

“Wanda, oh my goodness! This is delicious.,” Yelena groaned, her hands soaked red from the sauce of the lasagna she shoveled in her mouth. Kate grimaced at the sight of it all., “No thank you Wands, I don’t eat cheese or meat.,” she grabbed an apple then returned to the couch.

“Y/N? Care to try your best friends dish?,” the forkful was soon pushed passed your plump lips, and you hummed your approval for the pasta. The redhead and you shared a personal look, and you could see she was trying to quell your anxieties, ‘a dream is just a cumulation of many meaningless thoughts,’ you could imagine the words falling from her lips, as they have many times after one of your lifelike nightmares. You blinked three times, and the woman smiled fondly at your display of love.

“It’s delicious Wan, Vis will love it!,” you beamed your scripted line to the woman who smiled at you a little too fondly for it to have been platonic, but such is the way of an altered reality you presume., “I’m glad to hear it.,” and just as you went to take a seat on the couch it dematerialized before your eyes, as did the rest of the scenery. An odd sensation consumed your form, then suddenly you were gasping.

In real time Wanda’s body jolted off of the mattress in a fit of harsh coughs, briefly releasing all of you from the trippy mind fog. Yelena and Kate shared a look as they booked it for the front door with their bags and a distant shout back., “A hotel works just fine for us.,” Natasha smirked down at you from over your shoulder, your body having slumped into hers, and just as she went to speak she was silenced. The both of you watched as the color of the apartment faded into a murky black and white.

This time though you’d had full motor control, it was apparent that your sickened girlfriend was losing her ability to hold much control. With quick footsteps you approached the room, Natasha hot on your heels, as the both of you were honestly worried about her wellbeing. Upon entering the room you saw Wanda in a robe sat before the vanity, she didn’t look like she had in every other sequence though.

This time the sickness had the upper hand over her, the tip of her nose was a much darker shade of grey from the rest of her face, as were the bags beneath her eyelids. Nonetheless, she smiled fondly at the both of you., “My loves.,” she croakily coo’d, all your previous qualms based on her choices faded away at the sight of the soft smile that accompanied her words. Natasha’s were simply pushed to the back of her mind, to obviously be fought over later.

“Oh baby, you don’t look well.,” you softly say as you approached her, her nose scrunched in offense, but when she released the hold a box of tissues had materialized in your hands. Natasha chuckled, remembering last nights sitcom of the hour, and how you’d told Wanda she was basically Samantha’s witchy twin., “That’s not very nice.,” she whined, but her soured mood only lasted a second, because in the next you were handing her a tissue, and scooping her body up and into your chest.

“Most of what you’ve done today hasn’t been.,” Natasha grumbled, clearly not letting anything go, but when Wanda looked to her with a pout she temporarily resolved., “Let’s get you back in bed. Natty will get you some medicine.,” you sent the redhead a pointed glare and she went into to the ensuite swiftly, coming back with a cup of NyQuil, and a glass of water., “Open up.”

Wanda tiredly did as told, grimacing shortly after as the bitter cough syrup coated her tongue. You quelled her whimpers with a box of apple juice from your stash, before then urging her to drink the glass of water as well., “Get some rest love.,” you coo’d, hands gentle as they stroked her sweaty hair out of her face., “Lub you.,” both of your hearts skipped at her whispered words., “We love you too detka.,” Natasha confirmed, then you heard a cuffing noise, looking down to see she’d restricted Wanda’s powers., “They’ll time off before she even wakes up, but I refuse to receive any more horrible roles, now lets go watch a movie.,” you shook your head in disbelief while chuckling, then accepted her outstretched hand anyways.

That night Natasha and you slept on the couch, so when Wanda woke up in a bed full of tissues instead of your comforting bodies she pouted. Walking out she found the both of you in an entangled mess of limbs on the couch., “Cute.”, she gently brushed the hair off your face, then placed soft kisses to both of your foreheads. She was honestly feeling so much better after all of the given meds and rest, so she decided to take care of breakfast in a show of her thanks.

Bits and pieces of the oddest dreams kept flashing through her mind while flipping the pancakes, and a frown befell her face at just how real all of felt as it replayed for her., “Sweetheart, give me the spatula, and run.,” you suddenly spoke from besides her, and when she looked to you she saw an angry Natasha quickly approaching from behind you., “What?,” you grabbed the spatula, kissed her lips, then lightly shoved her., “Honey run!”

“You can try to run, but I’ll eventually get you!,” Natasha shouted, slapping your ass in warning as she brushed right on passed you.

“Natasha! Baby, what did I even do?!,” Wanda shrieked from down the hallway, you shook your head in amusement while plating up their pancakes., “What did you do?!,” she scoffed., “Wanda, you typecast me as Ross Gellar!,” the witches gasp was far too audible to you, and that was because she came barreling back into the kitchen from the other entrance, and before you could protest she was using you as a shield.

“I-I, was that all really happening?,” she stumbled over her words, the confusion was evident in her tone, you nodded gently, turning to peck her forehead just before Natasha reentered., “Wanda, why?! Is that how you really see me?,” you held back a giggle, finding Natasha’s whining rather adorable actually. Wanda however was mortified, she shook her head violently against your shoulder blade, and you could see Natasha’s anger melting the longer she stared at the witch clinging to you. Then when you teasingly stuck your bacon out for her to nibble on she was back to baseline, approaching you eagerly, and moaning at the salty, yet sweet flavor of the meat.

“Am I still in trouble?,” she whispered timidly, you spun around to face her., “Not unless you really want Vision back.,” her face scrunched in hardcore offense., “Absolutely not, I’ve got all I could ever want or need here with my wives.”

“Right answer.,” you settled a kiss to her lips, then another to Natasha’s as your turned back around and headed towards the table to eat., “Come now ladies, let’s enjoy the food.”

Everything was going great too, giggles filled the room as you reminded the witch just how everything played out., “Did they really run out of here like the world was on fire?,” you nodded while sipping on your warm mug and Wanda broke out into another fit of laughter., “Always so dramatic.,” Nat added., “Yeah, can’t wait to see them drunk at their wedding.,” you teased, but before the conversation could go on your lovers looked to you with concern as an unexpected, harsh cough tore from your throat.

“Please, nooo.,” Natasha groaned, because as hypothesized, following your cough came a loud boom as storm clouds formed above the dining room table, and as another cough tore through you, lightning cracked and rain fell. Soaking the entirety of the table, along with you and your lovers., “Please, remind me again why I married you magical little freaks.”

Wanda ignored the grumbling redhead, turning to face your pouting form with a smile, and beckoning you over towards her with a finger., “It’s okay my love, get some rest.,” and as you settled into her arms red tendrils flowed out and into your mind, locking you into a deep slumber, and settling the brewing storm., “Because I can do just that, and let’s not act like you’re not an absolute menace when sick.,” Natasha blushed, and bowed her head at the call out, then she approached you both., “She is pretty cute.,” Wanda smiled., “The cutest.”

——————————————————

For reference:

ILL (Lucy-R, Ethel-Lena)

Golden Girls! (Kate-Rose, Nat-Dorothy, Lena-Sophia, W-Blanche, R-Blanche’s date/Dorothy’s “ex”)

Friends (Kate-Phoebe, R-Rachel, Lena-Joey, W-Mon, Nat-Ross)

Bewitched! (Wanda & Nat/R)

[silverstonesainz-archive]

❛ you feel like home to me. ❜ + our baby mick 🫶🏽

routines (ms47) ─── how the week plays out

mondays always start early. you’re up when mick is, and while he’s off for a run, you’re hopping into the shower. he comes home just as you finish getting ready, and he makes toast for the both of you. coffee happens sometimes, depends if one of you remembers to brew some. but water with, a glass each, is a must. mick makes sure you finish your glass before you’re running out the door. 

you come home to him in the midst of another meeting, but he’s wrapping up. he tries to help you cook, but you shoo him away before he could even ask. you eat dinner together at the dinner table, laughing about something mick said because he always knows how to make you laugh.

you wake up five minutes later on tuesday. when your eyes slip open, mick is pressing a kiss to your temple and coaxing you out of bed. you get ready like normal, and by the time you’re done mick has made you eggs and toast, with hot coffee on the side. he picks at your plate, even if he’s already eaten. but he does it to annoy you— and he succeeds. he doesn’t let you leave without a kiss though, even if you try to push him off.

he orders takeout for dinner, and he sits by you for dinner instead of across you. he finishes eating before you, but he sits and waits. no rush, no urgency, his fingers dance with your hair while you tell him about the day behind you.

mick sleeps in on wednesday, and he only wake when you’re ready to walk out the door. he’ll be in bed, duvet pushed down to his hips and a tired smile on his face. have a good day lover, he’d say. his kiss is sweet, soft, a plea for you to come home as soon as you can.

he tries to cook dinner. he called sebastian to ask hannah how to cook this dish, and she stayed the phone the whole time. there are no words to describe the look on his face when you come home. blue eyes bright, smile wide, mick stands with a dish burnt at the edges, and seemingly undercooked in the middle. but you eat the outer parts where it’s cooked perfectly, and give him a kiss to tell him good job.

thursday you go for a run. you didn’t want to, but mick can be persuasive in the mornings. you run a mile, legs burning as you walk up to your apartment. he joins you in the shower that ran longer than you’d like. you arrive at work with coffee in a travel mug, leftovers from the night before, and a hickey covered in layers of makeup. 

you join esteban and elena for dinner. they’re back from paris, and the boys had a lot to catch up on. it’s nice, talking to friends and catching up over wine. but you don’t have too much, there’s still friday after all. 

fridays, you wake up happy. you spend an extra five minutes in bed with mick, fingers through his hair and lips against his. it’s quiet, it’s perfect. the same routine plays out, with toast and eggs, lemon water before you’re out the door. 

you get a halfday at work, and you’re back through the door of your home by one. but mick isn’t home. he’s off at work, he texted you earlier. so you settle on the couch, watching reruns of a sitcom you’ve never seen before. he’s home before four, greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. pizza and beer for dinner, before you turn in for the night.

saturday is spent on the couch for the most part, talking aimlessly about the future and what it might look. sometimes you’ll go out, maybe a night in the town or at a fancy restaurant for a date. you love saturdays.

sundays are spent preparing for the week ahead. it’s quiet, both of you working on opposite ends of the home. and when all is said and done, you’re coming up behind mick. your arms go around his torso and your cheek rests on his back. he rumbles with a soft chuckle, his hands rubbing your forearm.

“you okay love?”

“mhm, i just miss you.”

he chuckles again, “i’m surprised you’re not tired of me.” 

you smile, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “never tired of you. you feel like home to me.”