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harrington-stevie · 2 years ago

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Biker Boy - !biker Eddie Munson

As requested by my girlie anonymous friend, who gave such a great idea, here it is!! I used the details as an excuse to make this short story spicy 🥹

Summary: You and Eddie are friends with benefits. Whenever he has the chance, he always gives you a ride and everytime you hear the engine and him revving, your body goes crazy. You have a kink he doesn't know, so maybe it's time to finally get the word out.

Warnings: oral sex, fingering, cursing, fluffiness. +18 DNI

Word count: 2k.

His engine was revving in the distance as you heard the roar of his motorcycle approaching your neighborhood. As you're just finishing getting ready, the sound of his vehicle makes your heart do a flip, it's always automatic. The anticipation of watching him riding his machine always made its way in. You run to the front door as soon as he pulls over on your sidewalk.

You watch as he leans his bike to one side and dismounts gracefully, your stomach sinking from the view. Clad in his black leather jacket, Eddie was wearing ripped jeans - as always -, white sneakers and leather gloves. Oh, the leather gloves. They certainly did things to you.

You and your friend became closer over the past months, then you had the greatest idea of becoming friends with benefits. Something your friends didn't quite understand because you both decided you'd be exclusive to each other. Robin would always say it kinda gives away the term, because you wouldn't date other people.

The metalhead had his face hidden under the helmet, only showing the end of his hair and his big brown chocolate eyes. Everything just sends shivers down your spine. As soon as he got rid of the helmet, his hair flung revealing a mop of tousled curls. His dark green motorcycle had fat tires, decorated with a silly amount of stickers of every kind; bands, movies, games.

He had a gin, although he wasn't the biggest fan of a party. He promised he would only go because it was Steve's, and because his friend got into college.

"Hey sweet thing," he greeted you with a small kiss on your forehead. You gave him some space to get inside your house, leaving the helmet on the coffee table and taking his jacket off.

"It'll be a couple of minutes, just finishing my makeup". He only then noticed how pretty you were looking. You were wearing a tight black dress, brown boots and your hair was perfectly sat on a ponytail.

"You look too stunning to wear makeup," Eddie responded and you chuckled.

"Always such a gentleman". You took that opportunity to finally give him a proper kiss as he sat on the armrest of your couch. But then your eyes caught a glimpse of his hands still wearing the gloves.

Approaching him, you wrap your arms around his neck as he uses his right hand to tug on your waist while the other one goes to your face. The way the fabric sticks to your skin makes you immediately stiff your entire body and you've barely reached his lips, leaving only a few inches close to them.

When Eddie hears your light but recognizable moan, he looks at you lifting his eyebrows. You're almost making a fool of yourself but fuck that, you liked his hands in gloves. He didn't know that, because you never actually bothered telling him you had an actual kink. It's not like he never asked, he was always pretty curious to know your deepest secrets about your sex life.

"That was quick," he joked and you tried not to laugh at his taunting.

"Shut the fuck up". As you retorted him, you gave him a wet but already forwarded kiss, sliding your tongue inside his mouth. He tasted like cherry from the candy ball he usually eats after smoking. The tobacco smoke was lingering on his entire body, as well as his cheap perfume you love.

Eddie slid his hand down your body and gripped your hips before loosening his touch, threatening to remove his gloves. You desperately held his hands and shook your head. He tried to comprehend just what the hell you wanted.

"Keep the gloves," you begged. The man was barely existing and yet you were feeling like you were turning into jelly just at the thought of the leather touching your skin.

He smirked and raised his eyebrows, teasing you. "These? Huh". The way he reacted to it gave him an idea you haven't thought of yet, and still he was already light-years ahead of you. Eddie firmly grasped your waist and swung you, making you sit at the exact spot he was sitting.

He assaulted you with his feral tongue, liking yours and pulling your lower lip between his teeth. Boy, did he become another man after that. Using his left hand, Eddie started sliding it down your body, making sure to hold the curve under your breast, pressing his fingertips on your waist, reaching the hem of your dress.

The kiss became sloppy as soon as he slowly lifted it to your hip. Thank God you always chose a good lingerie. This time it was a thin, soft, lace pantie he was about to pull to the side. Before he did his main show, the curly haired metalhead squeezed your thigh and ripped a small mewl from your mouth against his.

His tone became husky and his cherry breath hit against your skin. "It's a shame I can't feel how wet you are right now. But I'm guessing you're soaking already". You whined by the feeling of his middle finger opening your folds, rubbing your wet skin with tenderness first. Eddie was always gentle, sometimes he rushed things, but you were headed to a party, so this one had to be fast.

Without warning, he made his way with his middle finger into you and you tightened your walls against his gloved digit. "Oh, fuck, Eddie". You cried out, your lips were parted. You were too busy to actually kiss him, but he was also focused on something else as well.

"Jesus, baby. You're so dirty," he breathed out against your ear. Eddie stuck his index finger to your cunt, along with the other, and the leather surely made it feel different from anything else.

His pace was calm, but the minute he felt you were used to the dressed fingers, he started to speed up, curling both, so they would hit your perfect spot. You're having a hard time breathing in and out, his thumb was rubbing against your swollen clit with so much desire.

Quickly, you unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, facing his fat cock throbbing against his boxer. From your position, you could choose between just jerking him off or eating him whole.

You decided you would suck the life out of him. You started giving him wet kisses around his arousal, his tip, and his balls. It made him hiss, throwing his head back.

"Fuck, sweetie," he pleaded, working his fingers in a sweet, but fast motion. Eddie felt the back of your throat hit the tip and he almost stuttered, it was always hard for him to hold back his moans. He never actually lasted more than five minutes because you had the most fuckable mouth.

Bobbing your head up and down, you could still whine with his cock in your mouth, giving him a full lick as well. Your living room was quiet and the only sounds that could be heard was from his finger pumping and your moaning, along with the sucking.

Eddie was focusing on rubbing your clit ever so slowly, while his fingers worked harder and faster inside you. He used his plump lips to keep them on the top of your head, while pulling a handful of your hair with his free hand.

You didn't have boundaries at this point. You were both so close and so intimate, you would even fuck on a balcony, if you had one. Alone in a room, you were free to use your hands and your mouth deliberately. Just like now.

Almost gagging on his length, you made sure to grip on his cock, hollowing your cheeks making enough pressure for him to gasp so loud, he almost fainted. "Oh God, I'm gonna cum," he cried.

You never left the smirk on your face because you knew how good you were with your mouth, and he was always reassuring you. Eddie, on the other hand, was trying to not break down from your blowjob, keeping his fingers curled hitting your spot. It didn't take longer for your walls to start clenching around him.

He gripped your clit with his thumb, rubbing it faster, sloppy movements as he started to feel his own pleasure hitting the roof. You felt his cock twitch inside your mouth and you kept your pace, bobbing your head, until he released his juices down your throat.

Eddie loved seeing how you always swallowed him until the very last drop of it. He squinted his eyes closed, relishing every ounce of your saliva on his throbbing skin. "Fuck, you're so good," the metalhead whispered.

Not so much behind, you felt him pinching your clit while using only his middle finger inside you, watching as you bucked your hips, rocking them against his digits. "Ah, Munson". Using his last name as a resource to help you reach your own climax always worked and he knew that, he never complained.

As you throw your head back against the back of the couch, Eddie assaults your neck, nibbling on the skin, feeling your walls throb and clench around his gloved finger. "Yeah, cum for me baby girl". He always alternates his pet names towards you, so you would never know what would come next.

Your entire body squirmed around his fingers, your clit became too sensitive to the touch and your cunt closed tightly on his finger. You felt too weak on your knees and you were thankful for sitting on the couch, even though Eddie was still holding your neck.

You felt empty as soon as he removed his fingers from you and your stomach flipped. God, you felt so needy sometimes.

He zipped his pants back and pulled the belt. "You made such a mess on my glove, sweet thing".

"Good thing you have another one for us to use at the party". You respond as you fix your dress and walk to your bedroom.

You missed his reaction to your statement and he put on his glove back. It had your taste and your smell, he might as well use it as his accessory.

Ready and outside your house after a quick pornography, you stood at the side of his sleek vehicle, ensuring your safety before hopping on his bike. Next to his machine, he handed you the helmet, reaching out gently guiding you through the process.

Eddie always made sure to strap on it, so it wouldn't fall off your head during the ride, not too tight and not too loose either. "Thank you, handsome".

You swung your leg, hopping on the back of his bike, watching as the sky was casting a lavender hue over the quiet street of your neighborhood. You heard his revving and your heart jumps in, you loved it when he did that.

Just when he screeched the tires on the floor, you held your arms around his waist, placing both hands on his stomach. He loved driving too fast and he knew you hated it. Most of the time he would just speed up just a little to taunt you.

Approaching a red traffic light, Eddie slowed his vehicle, smoothly stopping as he supported both of you with one foot on the ground. As always, he turned his head slightly, resting his hands on your thighs, rubbing your knees with his gloved fingers.

You're thinking he didn't even bother to not wear the glove he used to fuck you, and you didn't know if you were actually more turned on or just feeling really repulsiveness. Either way, his endearment towards you always caught you off guard, he's too used to resting his hands on you at every fucking red light.

You smiled in return and just enjoyed his warm and steady touch, while you leaned your head against his back. As the light became green, he left his grip to hold the handlebars, speeding up the engine.

Eddie pulled up at Steve's house, the loud music was banging from a boombox inside his backyard. Before you both got inside, you reached for his wrist, gently squeezing his arm. He stopped by your side, brows furrowed.

"I'm not kidding about the glove, you better keep it clean", you pecked his lips quickly, before ringing the bell. You didn't expect him to be so close to you before responding.

"This time I'll use a special guest". You turned your head slightly, only to watch him licking his lips, teasing you. Eddie as a biker had you at his mercy, on your knees.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things #userashe #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut fic

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moneeb0930 · 4 months ago

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Thomas W. Stewart was an African American inventor from Kalamazoo, Michigan, who made significant contributions to household cleaning technology in the late 19th century. On June 11, 1893, he was granted U.S. Patent #499,402 for an innovative mop design that featured a clamping device and lever mechanism, allowing users to wring out water without directly handling the mop head. This design also enabled easy replacement of the mop head, enhancing both hygiene and convenience in floor cleaning.

In addition to his mop invention, Stewart co-developed an improved station and street indicator in 1883 alongside William Edward Johnson. This device was designed for railways and streetcars, automatically signaling the names of streets or stations as the vehicle passed, thereby improving communication and efficiency in public transportation.

Four years later, in 1887, Stewart invented an improved metal-bending machine capable of oscillation, which advanced manufacturing processes involving metalwork.

Stewart's inventive efforts have had a lasting impact, particularly his mop design, which laid the groundwork for modern cleaning tools that prioritize user convenience and hygiene.

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haikyu-mp4 · 1 year ago

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Ahhh!!! Congrats on your 300 follower milestone! This seems super fun.

I’m applying with Matsukawa. I am outgoing and extremely flexible 🥺

thank you lovely anonymous<3 we love extremely flexible workers, you're hired!!

Hey now

Matsukawa is your coworker and you're closing up the café together, for the now hiring! event

word count; 324 – gn!reader

The second you locked up the entrance to the cafe, you felt the looming presence of your coworker behind you. You turned around looking deadly serious before raising your fist.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” you both chanted, and you raised your arms triumphantly when you kept the rock and Matsukawa chose scissors.

“Why would you do rock three days in a row?” he groaned, annoyed with your tactic as he went to get the mop. The loser mops the floors.

“Evidently, I am the natural alpha of this establishment,” you joked, going over to the counter to plug your phone into the AUX and put on whatever music you enjoyed lately.

He just scoffed, looking away so you wouldn’t see the small smile on his face as he went to fill up the bucket with soap water while you got started on cleaning the coffee machines and otherwise preparing the workstation. “I need to start asking for shifts without you.”

You were humming to the music when you felt a wet hand smear some soap water on the back of your neck, hum turning into a squeal while he ran away. Your hair stuck to your neck and some drops ran underneath your uniform and down your back. “Mattsun, you bitch!” you scolded, getting a paper towel to dry it off as best as you could. Matsukawa snickered at your reaction before actually getting to work. Time to put up all the chairs and get the floor cleaned.

Despite the bickering, you and Matsukawa work well together when you get into it, moving on automatically to any open tasks when you finish the last one. You were about to start the last step of checking the register when the song on the speaker switched and played a very recognizable intro. The two of you made eye contact across the counter as a song from the classic Shrek soundtrack started playing.

“Some-BODY ONCE TOLD ME!”

masterlist

#now hiring! event #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq #fanfiction #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyu fluff #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei #hq matsukawa #haikyuu matsukawa #issei matsukawa #matsukawa #mattsun #mattsun x reader

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justarandomreaderxoxo · 29 days ago

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Shadows of the Heart: Chapter 4

A Soft Place to Land

Summary: As your day ends not with boardroom battles but with homemade lasagna, laughter, and a stolen moment of peace on her couch, a late-night call reminds you that your world isn’t done asking for pieces of you. But this time, you're leaving something real behind.

Word count: 5310

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 24

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: None.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The automatic glass doors sweep open as you step into the sleek lobby of Fury Enterprises, the click of your heels muffled by the soft hush of the morning rush. Light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long reflections on the marble floor. The receptionist lifts her head instantly, smile already blooming.

“Good morning, Ms. Fury! Coffee’s already on your desk, two sugars and no cream.”

You pause, offering a small, knowing smile. “You remembered again, Mira. You’re a gem.”

Her grin brightens even more as you continue toward the elevators. Behind you, the lobby hums with a subtle shift-voices dipping in volume, heads tilting your way. No one stares outright, but the current changes. Like water adjusting to a familiar presence.

In the elevator, an intern clutches a binder like a life raft. He fumbles his stack. Without a second thought, you kneel to catch a folder before it hits the ground.

“First week?” you ask, brushing a stray paperclip from your slacks.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, wide-eyed. “Thanks, ma’am-Miss-Ms. Fury.”

“Y/N’s fine. You’ll find your rhythm.”

He stands a little straighter beside you, bolstered by something small but solid.

The 22nd floor opens up like a living machine, glass walkways bustling with motion, conference rooms buzzing with conversations. People move with purpose, but slow just slightly as you pass. Not out of fear. Out of instinctive deference. A few quiet greetings. A couple of nods. Then Lucas peels off from a huddle near a whiteboard.

“I’ve run the numbers from that Munich acquisition. Want to see the projections before the noon meeting?”

You tilt your head, considering. “If it means I get to tell the board ‘I told you so,’ then yes, let’s do it after lunch.”

He laughs under his breath. “Wouldn’t miss that show for the world.”

Down the corridor, you make a quick stop near HR. One of the custodians, Mr. Petrov, is crouched beside a small spill.

You drop to a knee beside him, voice gentle. “You alright there?”

He looks up, eyes twinkling. “These old bones still work, Ms. Fury.”

“You sure? I can have Mira bring you a chair.”

“I mop, not sit,” he replies with a grin, his tone warmer than the morning sun.

You chuckle, give him a quick wink. “You let me know if they start arguing back.”

Further down, someone from legal passes you a file without needing to be asked. Kayla matches your stride like a shadow, tablet already lit. Her voice is low, efficient.

“We had a supplier try to overcharge us. I held off replying until you could take a look.”

You scan the numbers in a glance. “Push back with the original quote. If they press, remind them we know who their competitors are.”

Kayla’s fingers fly across the screen. “Also, HR said you signed another dozen birthday cards this morning.”

“Can’t run the soul out of the place,” you say with a smile.

Behind you, someone murmurs, “She remembered my niece’s name from a convo two months ago.”

You half-turn, casually: “Tell Ava I hope her recital went well.”

The whisperer freezes. Just stares.

Outside your office, Mira is already prepping notes for your next appointment. No one says it out loud, but the air holds it close, respect. Earned through repetition. Built on clarity. Wrapped in a calm that doesn’t ask for control, it simply has it.

The boardroom is already full when you step in-seasoned execs mingling with sharp-edged newcomers trying to play it cool. You don’t announce yourself. Just walk in, sleeves rolled, expression unreadable.

They quiet anyway.

Victor, the CFO, straightens in his chair. “We’ve run projections for the South District expansion. Conservative estimates place break-even at twenty-two months-”

You glance at the file. “Based on the old logistics partner?”

He pauses. “Well. Yes.”

You lean back, cool and focused. “We switched freight services three weeks ago. Lower overhead. Better efficiency. Re-run it.”

A younger board member clears his throat. “We were told that change was still in a trial phase-”

You meet his eyes-not unkind, just steady. “You were told last month. Friday brief. Page three.”

He flushes. “Right.”

No ego in your tone. Just precision. But the room shifts again-straighter backs, quicker notes.

Victor adjusts. “With the updated partner, we’re probably looking at eighteen months.”

You nod. “Now we’re talking.”

Lisa, head of marketing, raises a hand slightly. “If the projections improve, we’d like to launch the branding push early. That’ll require reallocating Q4 funds.”

“Do it,” you say. “But justify every dollar.”

She beams, scribbles a note. The meeting flows. You don’t dominate it-you shape it. You guide, correct, reinforce. By the time the hour is up, they don’t just agree. They’re aligned.

You don’t linger. Just catch Kayla’s eye through the glass.

“Next?” you ask.

“Press meeting in twenty. I already sent for your tea.”

You nod once, stepping toward your office with even strides, heart rate unbothered. Calm. Composed.

Calm as ever. Collected. And not one soul here suspects what the world looks like when you’re out of this suit-and off the leash.

And that’s just how you like it.

The soft chime of the bell above the door breaks the quiet hum of the café. Pietro steps inside, brushing a hand through his windblown hair, sunglasses still perched on his face despite the dreary grey hanging over the city outside. The overcast light filters through the wide front windows, dull and cold-but inside, it's warm. The kind of warmth that smells like cinnamon, butter, and something gently sweet rising in the oven.

At the counter, Wanda moves with a quiet rhythm, apron smudged with flour, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair’s braided, sort of-messy and already coming loose in soft strands that frame her face. She’s dusting powdered sugar over a tray of still-steaming croissants, the air thick with that just-baked kind of comfort that settles into your chest.

“Well, well,” Pietro drawls as he leans lazily on the counter, grinning like he owns the place. “Nice to see you’re still charming the whole damn neighbourhood, sestra.”

Wanda doesn’t even glance up. “If you want coffee, the machine’s right where you left it. Shocking, I know.”

He snorts. “Still mean before noon.”

“I’m mean before idiots,” she replies, deadpan, but there’s a flicker of amusement tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Pietro helps himself to a chipped ceramic mug from the shelf behind the counter, pouring without asking, like he’s done it a hundred times before-which he has. He settles into a stool, tapping his fingers against the mug while the scent of espresso curls up with the steam.

His phone buzzes. He pulls it out, glancing at the screen before tilting it toward her. “Mama and Papa want to FaceTime. You in?”

Her hands still for a second, and something shifts-softens-behind her eyes. The flour-dusted towel twists nervously in her fingers, but she nods.

He taps the screen, and just like that, the little kitchen from home fills the screen. Their mother appears first, her face lighting up like the sun breaking through clouds. “Wanda, my lyubov…”

“Mama,” Wanda breathes, her voice gentling as she wipes her palms against her apron, eyes shining.

Her father’s voice rumbles through the speaker a second later, teasing and warm. “Still not eating enough, I see.”

“I eat plenty,” Wanda argues.

“Only when I threaten to cook for her,” Pietro cuts in, smug and already sipping his coffee.

The call dissolves into that messy, overlapping chatter only families can manage-half-English, half-Sokovian, completely chaotic and full of love. Wanda tells them about the café, about the almond cake that, somehow, turned out perfect this time. Her mother makes a face when she mentions the new delivery guy being late again. Her father promises to send her more spices from home.

They ask when she’s coming to visit. And she lies-gently, quietly. “Soon,” she says.

When the call ends-after a flurry of air kisses and promises she probably won’t keep-Wanda sets the phone down with a kind of quiet care, like letting go of something precious.

Pietro watches her. “You tell them anything about the girl?”

Her hands still again. She hesitates-just a heartbeat too long. “No. Not yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, but his voice is softer now. “So, it’s serious.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, but there’s no heat in it. “You’re so nosy.”

“But you like her.”

She looks down at the towel in her hands again, running it over her fingers like she’s grounding herself. And then, almost in a whisper, “She makes me feel like… like I can breathe around her. Like she hears me even when I don’t know how to say things right. Like I matter.”

Pietro’s grin fades into something more honest. He nods. Doesn’t joke, doesn’t press.

“I’ll tell them,” Wanda murmurs, barely louder than the quiet hiss of the espresso machine behind her. “Just… when it’s time.”

“Give me a heads-up when you do,” he says, sipping his coffee. “I want to see Mama’s face when you tell her you’re dating a high-powered business heiress.”

Wanda smacks his arm with the towel, but it’s playful. “She’s not her money. Or her suits. Or… whatever people say she is. She’s just… her.”

He grins again, wide and smug. “You’re falling, Wanda.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just glances out the window, where the city moves quietly beyond the glass, wet pavement shining beneath soft light. A small smile tugs at her lips, unguarded.

“Yeah,” she says, voice low and full of something real. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

The floor outside your office moves with quiet precision. Heels click with purpose, voices are low and clipped, the smell of freshly brewed coffee clings to the air. People pass by with folders and phones in hand, their paths crisscrossing like clockwork.

Inside, it’s quieter. The subtle hum of central air fills the silence, broken only by the occasional soft rustle of paper. Your sleek glass desk reflects the late afternoon light filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting faint lines across the polished floor. You sit behind it, back straight, eyes on a contract, but your mind is already slipping elsewhere.

Your phone buzzes next to the keyboard, a brief vibration that pulls your attention.

Wanda: I was thinking about you all day.

You don’t move right away. You just read it. Once.

Then again.

No emojis. No punctuation beyond the period. Just simple and clean words but they slide into your chest like a breeze through a cracked window in a room you’d long since locked.

Another message follows, like she couldn’t help herself:

Wanda: How’s your day going? I missed you.

You exhale slowly, a weight you hadn’t noticed shifting in your ribs. It’s not love. Not yet. But it’s something. Warm. Gentle. A softness you don’t have a name for yet, not one you’re ready to say out loud.

You pick up the phone, thumbs moving deliberately.

You: Better now.

And it is. Even if there’s a stack of contracts beside you and meetings lined up like dominos for the next four hours.

The soft click of your pen echoes faintly as you sign off the final line of a vendor agreement. Just then, a sharp knock comes at your door. Your assistant peeks in, voice half a whisper.

“Miss Fury, there’s… a Yelena Belova here to see you?”

You raise an eyebrow without looking up. “Did she mention an appointment?”

Your assistant lowers her voice further, as if relaying confidential intel. “She said, and I quote, ‘Tell her that her favourite pain in the ass is here’ and that brought lunch.”

Of course she did.

You sigh, but the smile betrays you. “Let her in.”

The door swings open a second later, and Yelena walks in like she owns the place wearing casual jeans, combat boots, a leather jacket slung over one shoulder, and a paper bag in hand. Sunglasses rest on her head, holding back her messy blonde hair.

“This place is so shiny every time I visit.” she mutters, collapsing into the chair opposite you.

“You brought lunch. That’s suspicious.”

“I’m just being thoughtful,” she says innocently, pulling out two perfectly wrapped sandwiches. “Can’t a girl feed her favourite scary businesswoman without being accused of ulterior motives?”

You eye the sandwich. “Natasha sent you, didn’t she.”

“She might have mentioned you’ve been locked up in here like some brooding Batman.” Yelena watches you closely as you take the sandwich. “Also… you’ve been smiling at your phone like a teenager.”

You pause just a beat too long.

“Aha.” She points triumphantly. “You’re whipped. This is adorable.”

You roll your eyes, biting into the sandwich. “Don’t you have someone else to terrorize today?”

“I do. She’s downstairs getting coffee. But I wanted to see you first. Make sure you haven’t been replaced by a robot built entirely from espresso and quarterly projections.”

You chew slowly. “Still human.”

“Barely,” she mutters, but then her expression softens slightly. She leans forward, elbows on her knees, voice quieter now. “You good though? Really?”

Your eyes flick to your phone, still glowing faintly with Wanda’s message.

You nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Yelena smiles. “Alright then. Don’t get too soft. I like my scary strategist sharp.”

“You like your scary strategist well-fed apparently.”

She stands, tosses you a wink, and heads for the door.

You’re still chewing when your phone lights up again.

Wanda: Did I distract you from world domination scary lady? :)

You snort quietly, fingers already typing before your brain fully catches up.

You: You’ve been haunting my brain like a pretty ghost.

The typing bubble appears almost instantly.

Wanda: That’s a little dramatic, Y/N.

You: You are telling me.

The corners of your mouth pull upward before you can stop them. Your chin rests in your hand as the last of your emails blur behind the rising pulse of your heartbeat.

Wanda: What’s your evening looking like, detka? Because I made too much dinner.

That word again, detka.

You hesitate, eyes narrowing in a way that’s more amused than suspicious. You know what it means. Of course you do. Russian. Sokovian. You were raised on the language of negotiations, accents, cultural nuance. You speak more than you let people know.

But you’ve never told her.

You suspect she thinks you don’t understand, and for some reason… you find that incredibly endearing. Like a secret you’re not quite ready to give up. She says it like it’s her little charm, her way of slipping sweetness past your defences.

And you let her.

Because hearing her say it? Feels like being let in.

You responded:

You: You made dinner, and I wasn’t even invited? That hurts.

Wanda: I just invited you , detka. You just have to show up.

You glance at the door.

You don’t even think about calling your driver.

Instead, you grab your coat from the rack, sliding your phone into your pocket, a quiet thrill lighting your veins.

You: On my way.

You don’t even bother calling your driver. You take the keys and head out yourself, smile still lingering, softer now.

There are a thousand things still waiting on your desk. Deadlines. Investors. Crisis meetings. But for the first time in a long time…

You leave them behind.

Tonight, all you want is to see her.

The engine hums beneath your hand as you steer through the city, the sun dipping into dusk. Windows down, wind pulling at the edges of your hair. There's a certain kind of peace in driving alone: no underworld meetings, no boardroom chaos, just the stretch of road and the soft rhythm of Wanda’s last text still warming your chest.

Your phone buzzes on the passenger seat. You glance at the caller ID and smirk.

"Romanoff," you say, tapping your earpiece. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Her voice comes through dry and amused. "Just making sure you’re still alive, printsessa."

You chuckle. "Alive, functional, and currently on the way to get spoiled with homemade dinner."

Nat scoffs. "Wow. You’re being fed now. What’s next, foot rubs?"

You laugh, sharp and genuine. "Don’t jinx it. I’m living a dream."

"Uh-huh," she says with that unmistakable grin in her voice. "Well, speaking of dreams, I finally got Maria to agree to a real date. Like, not in a car between stakeouts."

That makes you sit up a little straighter. "No way. Hill actually took the night off?"

"Shut up. It was one night. Dinner, quiet wine bar, real food, not takeout."

You whistle. "Look at you two. Domestic as hell."

"You’re one to talk," she fires back. "I heard you’re practically a golden retriever around this Wanda girl."

"That’s slander," you say, a smile tugging at your lips. "I’m a very composed retriever."

"She better be good to you."

You don’t hesitate. "She is."

There’s a pause, not awkward but thick with years of knowing each other.

"Good," Nat says softly. "You deserve that."

The streetlight turns green. You hit the gas and glance at the sky, washed in lavender and rose.

"So do you," you say.

She exhales. "Okay, enough sap. You go get your dinner date, and I’ll pretend I didn’t spend half the night picking out a stupid bottle of wine."

You grin. "Tell Maria I’m proud. And maybe you can text me the wine rec."

Nat snorts. "Bye, Y/N."

"Bye, Tasha."

The line clicks off. You turn into Wanda’s street, heart light and hand steady on the wheel.

You park just a little down the street, nerves stirring under the calm rhythm of your breath. It’s not like you haven’t seen her before. Not like you haven’t spoken, laughed, or shared space with her over coffee and slow glances. But this feels different. This is her space, her home.

You straighten your collar in the rearview mirror. It's silly, really. You've stared down crime lords and corporate titans without blinking, yet here you are, fussing over the fold of your shirt like a teenager.

The short walk to her building is quiet. A cat stretches on a windowsill. The smell of someone else’s cooking wafts faintly in the air. You check the apartment number she gave you, then climb the stairs, letting your fingers lightly trail the railing to steady yourself.

You stop at her door. For a second, you just pause. Let yourself feel the way your pulse picks up. Let yourself hope.

Then you knock. One, two, light, not too eager.

Footsteps pad softly from inside, and a second later, the door swings open.

Wanda’s standing there in a loose-knit sweater and soft jeans, barefoot, hair tied in a messy bun. She’s radiant in the way sunlight is: effortless, warm, and a little blinding.

"There you are," she says, a smile blooming like she’d been holding it in just for you.

You smile back, slow and genuine. "Here I am."

She steps aside. "Come in. Sorry about the mess. I tried to clean but then the sauce nearly boiled over and, well, you'll see."

You step into her world. It’s cozy, lived-in. Books stacked a little crookedly. A few plants thriving wildly on the windowsill. The faint scent of basil and something sweeter coming from the kitchen.

You toe off your shoes and tuck your hands in your pockets. "I like it," you say.

She tilts her head. "You haven’t even seen the mess yet."

"I like that too."

She chuckles, gesturing for you to follow her into the kitchen. "Dinner’s almost ready. You’re just in time."

You trail behind her, heart not racing but blooming, a warmth that spreads and settles. A place that doesn't ask for armor.

And as the door clicks shut behind you, you realize you’re not just stepping into her home.

The kitchen is small, but the space feels alive. A pot simmers on the stove, and the table is already set for two. There’s a vase in the centre, holding a few fresh-cut daisies that are slightly uneven in length. It’s charming, unpretentious. Like her. Wanda moves around the kitchen with a casual grace, stirring something on the stove that fills the room with the kind of scent that makes your stomach remember it skipped lunch. She peeks over her shoulder with a little smile.

“I have wine, if you’re interested,” she says, already walking toward the cabinet without waiting for your answer. “Red; not expensive or fancy, but it does the job.”

You lean your hip against the counter, watching her reach up to the top shelf. “You had me at wine,” you say, eyes trailing up toward the glass she pulls down. “And I’m not the fancy type anyway.”

She arches a brow as she uncorks the bottle. “Says the woman who walked into my café in tailored slacks and a watch I’m pretty sure costs more than my rent.”

You chuckle, just the slightest tilt of your head. “That was… a good outfit day.”

Wanda pours two glasses and hands you one with a quiet cheers. You take your seat and watch her as she moves, not like you’re studying her, but like you’re memorizing something you’re not ready to let go of. The way her fingers brush yours makes the whole room seem quieter, warmer.

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking a sip.

You both let a small silence sit there between you, not awkward; just comfortable. The kind of quiet that lets you breathe. Then Wanda leans against the counter beside you, a soft grin tugging at her lips.

“So, tell me something,” she says. “What do you do on weekends when you’re not intimidating baristas with your very good outfit days?”

You hum in thought. “I wish I had a cool answer. Skydiving, training falcons… but mostly I read. Run. Listen to jazz and pretend I know more about it than I do.”

Wanda laughs, light and melodic. “That’s surprisingly normal.”

You take another sip of wine. “I try.”

She sets her glass down and nudges you playfully with her elbow. “Alright. My turn. What’s something small that makes your day better?”

You think for a moment, then answer, “When someone remembers how I take my coffee.”

Her face softens like you just told her something important. “That’s a good one.”

You glance toward her glass. “Yours?”

Wanda smiles into it. “Fresh basil on anything. Or catching a good song at just the right moment when I open the café. Makes it feel like the world is... paying attention.”

You nod, liking the way she thinks. “I’d say it pays attention to you more than you realize.”

She looks at you then - just for a beat - and something quiet lingers in her gaze.

Then the timer goes off.

She blinks, pushes away from the counter. “That’s the lasagna. Don’t judge me if it’s a little crooked. I had to improvise on the layering.”

“I’m sure it’ll be perfect,” you say, and you mean it. Not just the lasagna. The night. Her.

As she moves back to the oven, you lean on the counter, wine glass in hand, and feel something like home beginning to take shape.

You sit at Wanda’s modest little dining table, a couple of mismatched placemats set out with quiet care. The lasagna sits proudly between you, steaming and golden, and she serves you both with a flourish that’s part teasing, part pride.

“Moment of truth,” she says, settling in across from you with her fork already in hand.

You take a bite.

It’s warm, rich, the kind of homemade that speaks to more than just ingredients. You don’t say anything at first. You just look up and blink, dramatically, like you’re at a loss for words.

Wanda raises a brow. “That bad?”

You shake your head slowly, swallowing. “That good. I think I saw a vision of the universe in that bite.”

She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Careful. That almost sounded like flirting.”

“Almost?” you quip, smiling into your next forkful. “I must be out of practice.”

Wanda gives you an amused look, fond, but maybe a little curious too. “So what does someone like you usually do on dates?”

You glance at her, playing it casual. “You know. Bribe restaurant owners for off-menu dishes. Arrange rooftop views. Pretend I’m cool under pressure.”

“Pretend?” she teases.

You grin. “I’m very convincing.”

She cuts into her lasagna. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing just fine.”

There’s a beat, just the easy hum of a night that doesn’t need to be filled with noise. You look around her apartment, taking in the cozy clutter, books on a shelf, a few small, framed photos, string lights hanging unevenly across the window.

“It’s nice here,” you say.

“Messy, you mean.”

“Real,” you counter. “Feels like someone actually lives here. Not just visits for sleep.”

Wanda tilts her head, fork paused midway. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Actually, live wherever you are. Or just visit between meetings and obligations and all those mysterious things you don’t talk about.”

Your lips tug into something quieter than a smile. “I think I live a little more when I’m here.”

She doesn’t answer at first, her eyes studies yours, then softens. “You say things like that and expect me not to melt?”

You shrug. “Reckless of me, I admit.”

The rest of dinner continues like that half playful, half probing. A dance of words and glances, of learning each other’s rhythms, where silences don’t mean disinterest but comfort.

By the time you’ve both finished eating, Wanda leans back in her chair, glass in hand, eyes a little sleepier from the wine. There is a smile on her face, soft and sweet and maybe just a little shy.

After the tray is empty, Wanda stands at the sink, sleeves rolled up, already reaching for a sponge like it’s second nature. You follow her into the kitchen without a word, glass in hand, watching her for a moment as she runs the tap and squirts in just the right amount of soap.

“I’ll help,” you say, stepping up beside her.

She glances at you, half-smiling. “You’re my guest. Guests don’t do dishes.”

You give her a look. “And yet I’m standing right here, capable, available, and annoyingly persistent.”

Wanda laughs, bumping your shoulder lightly. “You just want to earn extra points.”

You feign offense. “You think I need points?”

“Oh, you absolutely think you do,” she teases, handing you a dish towel without fully agreeing to your help.

You accept it with a grin, moving to dry the plate she’s just rinsed. “I feel like this is a test.”

She eyes you sideways. “It is.”

“You’re judging my drying technique?”

“Among other things.”

You flash a smile and shake the water from your fingers before carefully drying the next plate. “And what do I win if I pass?”

Wanda pretends to think. “Hmm... maybe a spot on the fridge. If you’re lucky.”

“That’s high honour.”

“You’re doing great,” she says, but there’s something softer under the teasing now. A quiet warmth that creeps into her voice, like she’s not just talking about the dishes.

You pass her a rinsed glass, fingers brushing slightly. She doesn’t move away.

“I like this,” she says after a pause. “Just… this.”

You glance over at her. Her eyes are focused on the sink, but her smile is real, slow and a little crooked. You nod, quietly.

“Yeah,” you say. “Me too.”

And just like that, it’s no longer about dishes.

It’s about the stillness between two people beginning to lean into each other’s gravity.

Later, when the dishes are done and the kitchen is left warm with the faint scent of garlic and red wine, the two of you drift naturally to the couch. Wanda tucks her feet under her, a soft blanket over her lap, while you sit close enough that your knees almost touch, but not quite.

The room is dim except for the golden glow of a nearby lamp. A record hums softly in the background, something slow and wordless. You both listen to it for a moment, letting the silence breathe between you.

Wanda’s the one who breaks it first. “Do you ever... get tired?”

You turn your head. “Of?”

She blinks, pushes away from the counter. “That’s the lasagna. Don’t judge me if it’s a little crooked. I had to improvise on the layering.”

“I’m sure it’ll be perfect,” you say, and you mean it. Not just the lasagna. The night. Her.

As she moves back to the oven, you lean on the counter, wine glass in hand, and feel something like home beginning to take shape.

“Moment of truth,” she says, settling in across from you with her fork already in hand.

You take a bite.

It’s warm, rich, the kind of homemade that speaks to more than just ingredients. You don’t say anything at first. You just look up and blink, dramatically, like you’re at a loss for words.

Wanda raises a brow. “That bad?”

You shake your head slowly, swallowing. “That good. I think I saw a vision of the universe in that bite.”

She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Careful. That almost sounded like flirting.”

“Almost?” you quip, smiling into your next forkful. “I must be out of practice.”

Wanda gives you an amused look, fond, but maybe a little curious too. “So what does someone like you usually do on dates?”

You glance at her, playing it casual. “You know. Bribe restaurant owners for off-menu dishes. Arrange rooftop views. Pretend I’m cool under pressure.”

“Pretend?” she teases.

You grin. “I’m very convincing.”

She cuts into her lasagna. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing just fine.”

“It’s nice here,” you say.

“Messy, you mean.”

“Real,” you counter. “Feels like someone actually lives here. Not just visits for sleep.”

Wanda tilts her head, fork paused midway. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Actually, live wherever you are. Or just visit between meetings and obligations and all those mysterious things you don’t talk about.”

Your lips tug into something quieter than a smile. “I think I live a little more when I’m here.”

She doesn’t answer at first, her eyes studies yours, then softens. “You say things like that and expect me not to melt?”

You shrug. “Reckless of me, I admit.”

The rest of dinner continues like that half playful, half probing. A dance of words and glances, of learning each other’s rhythms, where silences don’t mean disinterest but comfort.

“I’ll help,” you say, stepping up beside her.

She glances at you, half-smiling. “You’re my guest. Guests don’t do dishes.”

You give her a look. “And yet I’m standing right here, capable, available, and annoyingly persistent.”

Wanda laughs, bumping your shoulder lightly. “You just want to earn extra points.”

You feign offense. “You think I need points?”

“Oh, you absolutely think you do,” she teases, handing you a dish towel without fully agreeing to your help.

You accept it with a grin, moving to dry the plate she’s just rinsed. “I feel like this is a test.”

She eyes you sideways. “It is.”

“You’re judging my drying technique?”

“Among other things.”

You flash a smile and shake the water from your fingers before carefully drying the next plate. “And what do I win if I pass?”

Wanda pretends to think. “Hmm... maybe a spot on the fridge. If you’re lucky.”

“That’s high honour.”

“You’re doing great,” she says, but there’s something softer under the teasing now. A quiet warmth that creeps into her voice, like she’s not just talking about the dishes.

You pass her a rinsed glass, fingers brushing slightly. She doesn’t move away.

“I like this,” she says after a pause. “Just… this.”

You glance over at her. Her eyes are focused on the sink, but her smile is real, slow and a little crooked. You nod, quietly.

“Yeah,” you say. “Me too.”

And just like that, it’s no longer about dishes.

It’s about the stillness between two people beginning to lean into each other’s gravity.

Wanda’s the one who breaks it first. “Do you ever... get tired?”

You turn your head. “of?”

She shrugs, eyes flicking to yours. “Keeping it all together. You strike me as someone who always has to have a plan. Does that ever feel heavy?”

You pause before answering, considering the honesty she’s offering. “Sometimes,” you admit. “But it’s different when you’re around. It’s easier.”

Wanda tilts her head, smile curling at the edges. “That’s sweet.”

You raise a brow.

“I’m starting to think you’re full of surprises, Y/N.”

You lean back a little, turning your head toward her. “And you?”

“What about me?”

“You said I make it easier. What do I do for you?”

Wanda’s expression softens. “You see me. Really see me. And you listen. Most people don’t.”

Your chest tightens a little at that, and without thinking, your hand moves just enough to rest near hers on the couch cushion. She looks down, then covers your fingers gently with her own.

“Would it be too forward if I said I already want to see you again?” you ask quietly.

She smiles one of those sleepy, end-of-the-day smiles that makes you want to pull her closer. “It would be forward if I hadn’t been hoping you’d say that.”

A beat passes. Neither of you rushes anything. There's no need to.

“Stay for a bit?” Wanda asks, voice a little sleepy now.

You nod. “Just a bit.”

And as the music fades into the background and her head eventually rests on your shoulder, you let the moment stretch as long as it wants to.

Because for once, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

The weight of Wanda's head on your shoulder is light but grounding, like gravity tailored just for you. Her breathing is slow, steady, warm against your collarbone where her nose brushes every now and then. She fell asleep like that, curled against you mid-conversation, trust worn like a blanket, without hesitation.

You don’t move at first. You just sit there and let yourself feel it. The way her fingers relaxed in yours. The way her lips had parted ever so slightly as she drifted off. Her hair smells like something soft and floral, maybe whatever shampoo she uses, and you tuck a strand behind her ear without even thinking. You let yourself have this. Just for a moment.

Then, your phone buzzes.

The vibration rattles against the wood of the coffee table. You glance at it without moving too much, not wanting to wake her.

Hill: We need you. Now. It’s about one of ours.

Your heart clenches.

You take a quiet breath, steadying yourself. Whatever it is, it can't wait but neither can you just disappear from her world like smoke. Not like them. You're not made of shadows when you’re here.

So gently, you shift, careful not to disturb her. She mumbles something sleepily when you lower her head to a pillow, brows furrowing for a second before her face smooths again. You pull the blanket over her, then crouch down beside the couch, just watching for a moment. Like you’re memorizing her.

Your hand brushes her cheek, thumb barely grazing her skin. You lean in, close enough to feel her breath ghost against your lips as you press the softest kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll be back,” you whisper. “Promise.”

You hesitate just a second more. Then you're up, grabbing your coat, slipping out the door with the quiet precision you’ve honed over a lifetime.

But for once, you don't feel like you're walking back into a war.

You feel like you're leaving something worth coming home to.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mafia au #female reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #lesbian #lgbt #natasha romanoff #maria hill #pietro maximoff

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w4rningbutterflies · 5 months ago

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"Oh no, not more of this." - tsukishima, kageyama

most people think in the way of abstract dreams & aching hearts that yearn for something more, something desperate. of movies & television shows that have warped their mind into what the world should be, what their presence should be. they dream in colors, abstract shapes, numbers, figures –– they are a solid whisper of consciousness that allows the brain to process.

he has never thought that way. ever since he was a child, he has thought in terms of velocity, distance, has calculated in the format of strength, conditioning. his mind works in the width of a large rectangle; it's pieced together where pawns should be placed, where he should be moving the pieces in order to reach maximum height, maximum distance, maximum strength. he works in the whisper of air past his ear & the feather light touch against fingertips just seconds after he calculates the right amount of force to use.

he thinks in the form of icy hot spray, back patches, advil, tape, leather against his fingertips, the scent of too clean soap, the sound of squeaking sneakers against a court. he thinks in the form of familiarity & loses himself in the count of steps that is routine, the count of touches before he has to set once more. there's a bite that whispers in his soul, that counts every single breath that he takes, takes notice of the way that his lungs expand in order to give him the most oxygen possible. he rests on his heels & he is more machine than he is man; in those moments he is nothing more than an extension of a ball, his heart slowing in time with the countdown on clocks, of the points that tick up on a scoreboard.

the snow settles underneath his sneakers, treading familiar paths that he would know even with his eyes closed. it's like no matter where he is, he'll find his way to these spaces, like it's a soft whisper in his soul that guides him. a compass that settles him even when he is lost in new cities & isn't sure the right pathway.

the practice facility is familiar in a way that it shouldn't be, because he doesn't remember ever actually being there. but he uses the side door –– climbs the stairs toward the top of the gymnasium & only flinches slightly when he realizes the trail that he's leaving. it's an old habit, one that has to bring the mops out in order to make sure the court is spotless before closing up for the night. tongue presses against his cheek; it's not his problem right now, because this is not his gym. he will not have to leave it in the perfect shape, nor have his shoes sullied the court below.

he watches the way that the bodies move –– calculates the way that their setter doesn't seem to push himself too hard, the way that the spiker on the left doesn't seem to clash in the right way. it's a practice, but he can't help but point out sloppy habits in the same way that he had when he was a child. teeth drive themselves into his bottom lip as he leans forward slightly, pushes his hands deeper into his pockets as blue eyes follow the ball & begin their calculations, even though it's not his team to calculate or find the flaws of.

a familiar body looms around the net, calculates before he jumps & hits the block at the right angle. a few seconds longer & it would've missed. it's a sloppy play; a familiar habit of slacking off, of conserving energy by choice. he's never understood it –– his body moves on automatic, moves with the waves of calculations & velocity, becomes one with the object soaring through the air. there's too much competitive nature in his bones to give less; sometimes he wishes that he could, that he could find a different pathway that would allow him to not feel that bone deep exhaustion the longer he plays. he's realized a long time ago though that he can't do it.

for what it's worth, he waits until the practice is done to say anything; he slips through the stairwell once more & ends up somewhere near the door, hovering because he doesn't want to drag snow in once more but also because he hasn't been invited. it had been a knee jerk choice coming here; being home should be familiar, easy, but he finds that it's not. the longer that he's away in italy, the more it feels like this isn't his home anymore.

he's used to familiarity in the way that his face is on television, the way that he has always been oikawa's protege, but this newfound way that people look at him, how they want photos, how they crave an autograph… it doesn't settle in his veins as well as he wishes that it would. he is a man that's still not used to success in that way; his mind works in velocity, not in the way that a pen moves over paper & he has resigned to signing his name in english because as much as he hates to admit it, daichi was right when he once told him he'd have a hard time spelling the kanji's.

his shoulder leans against the doorway with an ease that he doesn't completely feel; they keep in touch enough, in the way that he keeps in touch with others as well. but it's always that awkward moment when he stands there, when he's not sure what to say, if he should greet like a friend or become an enemy ––

" those last two blocks were sloppy. i see you haven't changed much. " the words are out before he can second guess them, safe & familiar –– just like the court beneath his feet once more, sweat sticking to his back & trusting that tsukishima would actually hit the mark this time, put in the effort to surprise them all. it's safe in a way that home sometimes doesn't feel, especially when tsukishima scowls right back at him.

in that moment, it feels like he's never left.

his fingers sink deeper into his pockets once more, scrape against the fabric in a way to ground himself against the soft bite back. he's long since learned that tsukishima expresses through bite, but is only sometimes more bark. " don't blame me because you haven't learned how to play yet. i'm surprise they keep you here. sure you're not ball boy? "

to his own surprise, tobio smiles once the words leave his mouth.

#pontevoix #writing: answered.

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stevebattle · 1 year ago

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youtube

Mint (model 4200) by Evolution Robotics, Pasadena, CA (2010). The Mint, as seen in the top photograph, is a cleaning robot that dusts and wet-mops hard surface floors. Functional and design prototypes of the Mint are shown in the second and third photographs. The robot uses an indoor navigation system called NorthStar, with a cube that projects four infrared dots onto the ceiling, used by the robot for positioning and orientation.

"Evolution Robotics was founded to develop the first consumer grade robot operating system. The company overcame substantial technical challenges and licensed their tech to consumer electronics companies. When the 2008 financial crisis hit virtually all products in development were cancelled by the company’s partners resulting in an 80% decline in revenues. With the capital it had left they made a “bet the company” wager and decided to take the leap and design and produce their own floor cleaning robot." – Evolution Robotics Epic Success.

"Mint automatically dusts and wet mops hard surface floors using popular cleaning cloths, such as Swiffer brand Dry and Wet Cloths and other similar products. Mint's innovations are grounded in the simple goal of making an appliance-grade product that reliably cleans consumers' floors and makes their lives easier. 'Similar to how the once manual chores of washing dishes or doing laundry evolved with the invention of the dishwasher and washing machine, floor cleaning has officially been replaced by an automated appliance that achieves the same result, if not better, than previous manual methods'" – Dr. Paolo Pirjanian (CEO of Evolution Robotics), Evolution Robotics Introduces Mint: The Evolution of Floor Cleaning.

#cybernetics #cleaning robot #robot #Evolution Robotics #2010

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apollonouta · 2 months ago

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Honestly i was a little worried if id get approved or not. I often feel very ashamed by my limitations bc i have like this internalized idea that if i *tried* hard enough id be rewarded by my efforts, not punished. So like the fact my body keeps betraying that expectation had made me think in a really backwards way that i didnt deserve help.

I can walk, ive been prescribed wheel chairs before but never got them bc idk how the durable medical device system works, but not only that my apartment nor life is set up to actually use a wheel chair. Plus i can walk fine, just not for a long time. A wheelchair would be nice in public but getting it in and out of the car along with my toddler would be an absolute nightmare and would eat up my spoons. Plus i cant use it for too long or itll cause heart failure.

I cant have removable bathroom aids even tho i.need them like a shower chair or lift seat specifically bc theyd be unsafe for my toddler.

Im barely out of the point where im sleeping 20+ hours a day. On sunday my phone told me im finally awake at least 14 hours a day, which is a huge improvement. I cant wash my dishes, clothes, or body in the same week. I can't vacuum, i can't scrub things, rhe most i can do is pick up stuff off the floor, but not evwn sweep or mop. My bathroom and kitchen are a mess, and the vast amount of my energy goes into keeping my kid tidy, clean, happy and fed.

Im finally making the mature decision to take my cats to the shelter. Im allergic to them, cant keep their area sanitized, i spent at least 3k in the past year and a half trying to set up a living space that works with them, but unfortunately theres two of them, and it just isnt going to work. They broke the enclosure, and the automatic litter box i bought them and i just cant afford to buy 60$ crystal litter for the machine they destroyed. I dont wanna give them up either but because buttercup broke the window, got outside and got worms i just literally cant handle it anymore. I had given them de worming medicine, but i can't clean their litterbox so im not even sure if it worked. They've been quarantined since then but the entire room needs to be sanitized w bleach at this point, and its not even a space I think can be cohabitated with them in there. I just can't take care of them, plus me, plus my kid. I think eventually id like something small like a hamster but honestly im probably not going to get another pet for years. I had got them both when i was in a better state physically and my health has significantly and recurrently gotten worse since.

My apartment is a mess, its super hard to keep clean, im constantly either in the hospital, at the doctor, having a medical emergency, or just physically unable to take care of my basic needs. But like i think why can everyonr else do these things except me? I should be able to stand up and talk without getting winded. I should be able to walk and talk without a migraine. I should be able to eat the same foods as everyone else, in the same room as everyone else, i should be able to play, exercise, enjoy life like everyone else. But i can't which is frustrating.

So i was thinking ah, theyll see that theres so much i can still do, and believe im not applying myself. Chronic fatigue, pain, migraines, hormonal issues, and a heart condition aside, theyll understand i should be like everyone else and judge me accordingly.

I guess im both glad that im not seen as attention seeking or faking it, but disappointed that im so young and my life is so very, very small compared to what i want.

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priyanshisingh · 1 year ago

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Household Appliances Market Overview: Growth Factors and Future Trends (2023-2032)

The global demand for Household Appliances was valued at USD 602514.2 million in 2023 and is expected to reach USD 1035351.78 million in 2032, growing at a CAGR of 6.20% between 2024 and 2032.

The household appliances market encompasses a wide range of devices and equipment used for everyday domestic tasks such as cooking, cleaning, and food preservation. This market includes major appliances like refrigerators, washing machines, dishwashers, ovens, and air conditioners, as well as small appliances such as microwaves, vacuum cleaners, coffee makers, and blenders. The growth of this market is driven by factors such as increasing urbanization, rising disposable incomes, and technological advancements that enhance convenience and efficiency.

Consumers are increasingly seeking smart appliances with features like energy efficiency, connectivity, and automation, which allow for better control and monitoring of household tasks. Additionally, the trend towards sustainable living is leading to a higher demand for eco-friendly and energy-efficient appliances. Key players in the market, such as Whirlpool, Samsung, LG, and Electrolux, continually innovate to meet evolving consumer preferences and regulatory standards. The household appliances market is highly competitive and global, with significant growth potential in emerging economies where rising living standards and expanding middle classes are driving demand for modern home conveniences.

Major Household Appliances-

Refrigerators: Used for preserving food by keeping it cold.

Washing Machines: Used for cleaning clothes automatically.

Dishwashers: Used for cleaning dishes and utensils.

Ovens: Used for baking, roasting, and cooking food.

Air Conditioners: Used for cooling and sometimes heating indoor air.

Microwaves: Used for quick cooking, heating, and defrosting food.

Dryers: Used for drying clothes after washing.

Small Appliances-

Vacuum Cleaners: Used for cleaning floors, carpets, and upholstery.

Coffee Makers: Used for brewing coffee.

Blenders: Used for blending, mixing, and pureeing food and drinks.

Toasters and Toaster Ovens: Used for toasting bread and baking small items.

Electric Kettles: Used for boiling water quickly.

Irons: Used for removing wrinkles from clothes.

Food Processors: Used for chopping, slicing, and dicing food.

Kitchen Appliances-

Stoves and Cooktops: Used for cooking food using gas or electricity.

Slow Cookers: Used for cooking food at low temperatures over a long period.

Pressure Cookers: Used for cooking food quickly under high pressure.

Rice Cookers: Used for cooking rice perfectly and sometimes other grains.

Juicers: Used for extracting juice from fruits and vegetables.

Cleaning Appliances-

Steam Mops: Used for deep cleaning floors with steam.

Robotic Vacuum Cleaners: Automated devices used for cleaning floors without manual intervention.

Carpet Cleaners: Used for deep cleaning carpets.

Personal Care Appliances-

Hair Dryers: Used for drying hair quickly.

Electric Shavers: Used for shaving facial or body hair.

Hair Straighteners: Used for straightening hair.

Home Comfort Appliances-

Humidifiers: Used for adding moisture to the air.

Dehumidifiers: Used for removing moisture from the air.

Heaters: Used for providing warmth during cold weather.

Fans: Used for circulating air and providing cooling.

Health and Wellness Appliances-

Air Purifiers: Used for cleaning the air of pollutants and allergens.

Water Purifiers: Used for making drinking water safe and clean.

Electric Massagers: Used for relieving muscle tension and pain.

Household Appliances Market Challenges:

Intense Competition-

Market Saturation: The household appliances market is highly competitive, with numerous established brands and new entrants constantly vying for market share.

Price Wars: Intense competition often leads to price wars, which can erode profit margins for manufacturers and retailers.

Technological Advancements-

Rapid Innovation: The fast pace of technological advancements requires companies to continually invest in research and development to stay relevant and competitive.

Obsolescence: Products can quickly become outdated, forcing companies to regularly update their offerings, which can be costly.

Supply Chain Disruptions-

Global Dependencies: The global nature of the supply chain makes it vulnerable to disruptions caused by geopolitical tensions, natural disasters, and pandemics.

Logistics Issues: Shipping delays and increased transportation costs can impact the timely delivery of products and overall profitability.

Regulatory Compliance-

Environmental Regulations: Increasingly stringent environmental regulations require manufacturers to produce energy-efficient and eco-friendly products, which can increase production costs.

Safety Standards: Adhering to various safety standards across different regions can be complex and expensive.

Sustainability Concerns-

Eco-Friendly Materials: The demand for sustainable and recyclable materials poses a challenge, as they can be more expensive and harder to source.

Waste Management: Managing electronic waste and ensuring proper disposal or recycling of old appliances is a growing concern.

Consumer Expectations-

Quality and Reliability: Consumers expect high-quality, reliable products, and any failure can lead to loss of brand reputation and customer loyalty.

Smart Features: Increasing demand for smart and connected appliances requires significant investment in technology and infrastructure.

Economic Fluctuations-

Recession Impact: Economic downturns can lead to reduced consumer spending on non-essential items, including household appliances.

Currency Fluctuations: Exchange rate volatility can affect the cost of imported components and overall pricing strategies.

Key Players:

Dick GmbH & Co (Germany)

GLOBAL APPLIANCES USA (U.S.)

KAI USA LTD (U.S.)

Kiya corp. (Japan)

A.C. Knife (U.S.)

Messermeister (Germany)

Victorinox AG (Switzerland)

Anker Innovation Technology Co., Ltd. (China)

Samsung Electronics Co., Ltd (South Korea)

Shenzhen Proscenic Technology Co. Ltd. (China)

Neato Robotics, Inc. (U.S.)

Cecotec Innovaciones S.L. (Spain)

G. Electronics Inc (South Korea)

Dyson Limited (U.K.)

Panasonic Corporation (Japan)

Sharp Corporation (U.S.)

More About Report- https://www.credenceresearch.com/report/household-appliances-market

The household appliances market is influenced by a variety of dynamic factors that shape its growth, trends, and competitive landscape. Understanding these dynamics is crucial for market players to navigate the industry effectively. Here are the key dynamics:

Consumer Preferences and Behavior:

Smart and Connected Appliances: There is a growing preference for smart appliances that offer remote control, automation, and connectivity with other smart home devices.

Energy Efficiency: Consumers are increasingly seeking energy-efficient appliances to reduce electricity bills and minimize environmental impact.

Aesthetic and Design: Stylish and aesthetically pleasing designs are becoming important as consumers look for appliances that complement their home decor.

Convenience and Ease of Use: Features that enhance convenience and ease of use, such as touch controls, voice commands, and self-cleaning functions, are highly valued.

Technological Trends:

Internet of Things (IoT): Integration of IoT technology in appliances allows for smart functionality, remote monitoring, and control, leading to improved user experience.

Artificial Intelligence (AI): AI-driven appliances offer advanced features like predictive maintenance, personalized settings, and enhanced performance.

Sustainability Innovations: Development of eco-friendly appliances using sustainable materials and technologies to reduce energy and water consumption.

Competitive Landscape:

Major Players: Dominated by global giants such as Whirlpool, Samsung, LG, Electrolux, and Bosch, which continuously innovate and expand their product portfolios.

Local Brands: In emerging markets, local brands compete effectively by offering cost-effective solutions tailored to regional preferences.

Mergers and Acquisitions: Companies engage in mergers, acquisitions, and strategic partnerships to expand their market presence and technological capabilities.

Regulatory and Environmental Factors:

Energy Regulations: Governments worldwide are implementing stringent energy efficiency standards, compelling manufacturers to produce compliant appliances.

Environmental Policies: Policies promoting the reduction of carbon footprints and the use of eco-friendly materials influence product development and manufacturing processes.

Safety Standards: Compliance with safety regulations is crucial to ensure consumer safety and avoid legal repercussions.

Economic Influences:

Economic Stability: Economic conditions significantly impact consumer spending on household appliances. Economic downturns can lead to reduced demand, while periods of growth boost sales.

Currency Fluctuations: Exchange rate volatility affects the cost of imported components and final product pricing, influencing profitability.

Supply Chain Dynamics:

Global Supply Chain: The globalized supply chain for components and raw materials can be vulnerable to disruptions caused by geopolitical tensions, natural disasters, and pandemics.

Logistics and Distribution: Efficient logistics and distribution networks are essential to ensure timely delivery and availability of products in various markets.

Marketing and Branding:

Brand Loyalty: Strong brand recognition and loyalty play a crucial role in consumer purchasing decisions. Established brands invest heavily in marketing to maintain their market position.

Digital Marketing: The rise of digital marketing, social media, and influencer collaborations enhances brand visibility and consumer engagement.

E-commerce and Retail Trends:

Online Sales Growth: The shift towards online shopping, accelerated by the COVID-19 pandemic, has led to increased sales through e-commerce platforms.

Omni-channel Strategies: Companies are adopting omni-channel retail strategies, integrating online and offline sales channels to provide a seamless shopping experience.

Segmentation:

By Major Appliance Segmentation:

Refrigerators and Freezers

Cooking Ranges and Ovens

Dishwashers

Range Hoods and Ventilation Systems

Food Processors and Blenders

Laundry Appliances:

Washing Machines

Clothes Dryers

Washer-Dryer Combos

Ironing Systems

Water Heaters and Boilers

Air Conditioners and Heaters

Browse the full report – https://www.credenceresearch.com/report/household-appliances-market

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addisonappliancerepair · 4 days ago

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The Best Smart Home Devices for 2025

These days, there's a smart version of pretty much every home device you can think of. These products (usually) connect to the internet, so you can control them from your phone through a companion app. Most also work with various forms of voice control. What follows is a rundown of the best smart devices we've tested for every area of the house.

At the ultimate smart home, you're met with technology before you even step through the front door. Some of the most useful connected home gadgets reside in the front yard, starting with outdoor security cameras. Our top pick overall for keeping tabs on your home from your phone is the TP-Link Tapo C120. This high-resolution, weather-resistant security camera not only captures motion-triggered video, but sends free intelligent alerts that differentiate between people, pets, vehicles, and other motion events. For a model with 2K video, color night vision, and built-in spotlights, you can't beat its price.

Best robot vacuum and mop

iRobot Roomba Combo j9+

The Roomba Combo j9+ has everything we want in a combination robotic vacuum and mop. It offers incredibly powerful suction, deep floor scrubbing and a slew of smarts to avoid obstacles (including cat and dog poop!). It’s a better vacuum than its predecessor, the Roomba Combo j7+, and it also features a new Clean Base that can automatically refill its liquid tank. More than any Roomba before it, the Combo j9+ can make your floors sparkly clean with very little intervention on your part.

Smart Assistants: Your Personal Helpers

Devices like Amazon Alexa, Google Assistant, and Apple HomePod can schedule reminders, play music, control other smart gadgets, and even provide real-time traffic or weather updates—all through voice commands. No more fumbling through your phone while cooking or rushing out the door.

Smart Lighting: Automate Your Ambience

Forget about flipping switches. Smart bulbs and lighting systems can turn on/off based on schedules or occupancy, saving time and energy. Imagine arriving home to a well-lit living room without lifting a finger.

Smart Thermostats: Auto Comfort, Always

Devices like Nest or Ecobee learn your habits and adjust the temperature accordingly. This eliminates constant adjustments and keeps your home comfortable without extra effort—plus it helps lower utility bills.

Smart Appliances: Cook and Clean Smarter

Smart ovens, microwaves, and washing machines can be controlled via smartphone apps, alerting you when cycles are done or meals are ready. No more checking and rechecking—just set it and forget it.

Smart Security Systems: Peace of Mind on Autopilot

Whether you're at work or on vacation, smart cameras and doorbells let you monitor your home remotely. Real-time alerts and automated locks help you manage safety without being physically present.

Conclusion

Smart home gadgets aren’t just futuristic toys—they’re practical tools for reclaiming your time. By automating routine tasks, minimizing manual effort, and enhancing convenience, these devices transform how you live, giving you more time to focus on what truly matters.

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vootclean · 1 year ago

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abyssalspecterwyrm · 15 days ago

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Metal Detectors Found: A Deep Dive into Sensors Precision and Power

Metal knowing is higher than a simple treasure-hunting pastime. It’s an appealing blend of science, history, and adventure. What begins as curiosity often becomes a lifelong pursuit for enthusiasts and professionals alike. At the heart of this endeavor lies the metal detector, a sight of modern technology designed to uncover hidden objects buried beneath layers of earth, sand, or even water. Understanding the elaborateness of metal alarms, from their design to their field performance, reveals exactly how precise and powerful these devices have become over the years.

The basic principle of metal sensors utilizes electromagnetic fields. When the search coil nailers of a metal detector passes over a precious metal object, it induces an electric current in the object, creating a extra permanent magnet field. The detector feelings this disruption and alerts the user, often with a distinctive tone or signal. While the concept may sound simple, the technology behind it is certainly not. Over time, metal alarms have evolved from rudimentary devices into sophisticated instruments capable of different between metals, gauging depth, and even selection out unwanted targets.

One of the key advancements in modern metal alarms is the ability to identify between different kinds of metals. Early alarms could detect the presence of metal but provided little information about what had been found. Today’s machines come equipped with elegance features that allow users to spotlight specific types of targets. For example, a user searching for gold can adjust the detector to ignore iron or aluminum, thus reducing the possibilities of digging up worthless little bit. This function is not only time-saving but also enhances overall efficiency, especially in trash-heavy areas.

Level of sensitivity control is another vital part of metal sensors precision. A detector’s level of sensitivity determines how small or deep a target must be to trigger an alert. High level of sensitivity settings are ideal for finding tiny objects like gold flakes or small coins. However, increased level of sensitivity also makes the detector more susceptible to interference from ground mineral or nearby electronic devices. Achieving the right balance requires practice and experience. Professional users often adjust level of sensitivity levels based on the ground and the type of metal they desire to find.

Ground balancing is a feature that significantly boosts accuracy. Many soils, especially those rich in iron or salt, produce natural signals that can confuse a detector. Ground balancing allows the device to cancel out these signals and focus solely on knowing metal objects. There are different types of ground balancing, including manual, automatic جهاز كشف المعادن, and tracking. Manual ground balance offers control but demands experience. Automatic systems are user-friendly and adjust settings as conditions change. Tracking ground balance continuously adapts while the user moves across different soil types, offering smooth and uninterrupted sensors.

The search coil nailers, often referred to as the detector’s eye, plays an essential role in both precision and power. Coil nailers size and shape directly affect how deep and wide an area can be scanned. Larger coils can detect objects buried deeper, making them useful in open fields or shores. However, they may miss smaller targets and are less effective in cluttered or mineralized soil. Smaller coils offer greater level of sensitivity and accuracy in trashy environments but cover less ground per mop. The decision of coil nailers often depends on the precise task and location, and many advanced alarms offer interchangeable coil nailers sources of greater versatility.

Modern metal alarms often feature visual displays that enhance the user experience. These displays provide real-time feedback, including target identification numbers, depth indicators, and battery status. Target ID helps users predict what type of metal has been detected based on its conductivity. Depth indicators estimate how long down the object lies, guiding users on how much effort is usually retrieve it. Some alarms even allow users to store custom settings, making it much easier to switch between different search environments without begining with scratch.

Audio output remains a core method of communication between the detector and the user. Different tones signify different types of metals, and more advanced models offer adjustable tones or multi-tone feedback. Interpreting these tones is a skill that improves over time. An experienced detectorist can distinguish between valuable targets and common rubbish based solely on the sound pattern. Headphones are often used to block out normal noise, making it easier to spotlight subtle signals that might otherwise be missed.

Power supply is an essential yet often overlooked consider a detector’s performance. Most alarms are powered by common batteries or standard throw-away batteries. High-end alarms often offer longer battery life and even come with built-in battery indicators to prevent unexpected shutdowns during hunts. Ensuring a full charge before heading into the field is a simple yet crucial part of preparation. In remote areas where re charging may not be possible, having spare batteries on hand can make the difference between a successful day and a frustrating one.

Environmental customization is another area where metal alarms show their precision and power. Devices designed for underwater use are built to withstand pressure and water exposure, enabling search in canals, lakes, and oceanic masses. Some alarms are manufactured to operate effectively in extreme temperatures or rugged ground, proving exactly how versatile modern equipment has become. Whether searching in a desert, forest, or frozen landscape, there is likely a detector suited for the job.

Skill and experience remain integral which will get the most from any metal detector. Understanding to misinterpret the data, adjust settings, and investigate environment can greatly increase the number of successful finds. Master detectorists develop a kind of behavioral instinct, understanding subtle variations in tone or signal strength that others might overlook. This blend of human pure intuition and machine learning ability is where true sensors mastery lies.

Over the years, metal alarms have found use beyond weekend enthusiast bags. Archaeologists use them to uncover artifacts from ancient people. Law enforcement agencies employ them for evidence recovery. Utility workers rely on them to locate underground cables or water lines. Even in humanitarian efforts, metal alarms have been used to detect landmines in former conflict zones, saving countless lives. These real-world applications highlight the detector's remarkable power and precision in diverse contexts.

Maintenance and proper handling ensure a metal detector continues to perform at its best. Cleaning the coil nailers after each use, storing the unit in a dry environment, and checking for wear and tear are all essential practices. Keeping the device calibrated and software updated, when applicable, also helps maintain peak performance. A well-maintained detector not only lasts longer but also performs more reliably, reducing the possibilities of missing valuable finds due to mechanical issues.

For those new to the field, kids of available metal alarms can be overwhelming. However, understanding what features matter most to you—be it depth capability, elegance control, or environmental durability—can guide your decision. Entry-level alarms are often user friendly and provide a gentle learning challenge. As skills improve, users may move to more advanced models that offer deeper customization and higher sensors precision.

Metal knowing is higher than a technological activity. It is a deeply rewarding experience that hooks up of those with the past and nature. The excitement of discovery, the quiet focus during a hunt, and the satisfaction of unearthing something long hidden beneath the ground are feelings that few other spare-time activities can replicate. With the right detector at your fingertips and a keen understanding of its functions, each outing becomes an opportunity for adventure, learning, and possibly even treasure.

The advancement of metal alarms has had about a new era in which precision and power coexist. These devices, once limited and basic, are now intricate tools capable of remarkable feats. Whether used for fun, work, or search, the modern metal detector stands as a testament to how long technology has come in helping humans uncover the unseen. And in the hands of a knowledgeable user, its full potential truly is shiny.

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