#ava pretender au

[zkylearnstherope]

Pretender [Part 4 - SE Art]

Part 4 - SE

And because people love and hate the Secret Ending, here's another art for it. >:D

Side A & B - Interlude & Encore

[cardhamine]

My Vanguard art: 40% cute, 50% soft, 10% Ms. Nightguard being slightly annoyed

My Vanguard fanfiction: 50% tragedy, 50% psychological horror, (100% lesbian romance)

[trainer-from-unova]

summer of love

Ⓢ english ao3 Ⓢ spanish ao3 Ⓢ masterlist Ⓢ

ship: robert reynolds x afab!reader

summary: it's summer and bob's birthday is around the corner so the new avengers convinced val to give them a weekend to celebrate his birthday party at the beach. because of your feelings and your strong friendship with him you're the one who organised everything and the one who gifted him more gifts, and one of those gifts it's helping him lose his virginity

au: for plot reasons bob goes to missions but I didn't specify whether he uses his powers to any extent or as a soldier trained by the others

c/w: road and weekend trip, beach and pool episode vibes (from an ecchi anime lmao), topless at the beach, domestic fluff, birthday party, alcohol, drinking games / questions, birthday sex, unsafe piv sex, bob has an oral fixation, biting, nipple play and licking, cunnilingus, face-sitting, masturbation, gentle and rough kissing, virgin!bob, submissive!bob, needy!bob, horny thoughts, praise kink, edging, dacryphilia I guess, multiple orgasms, orgasm control, creampie, friends to lovers, friendship so strong between them that they can joke and laugh during foreplay, third pov, use of y/n (like a lot)

a/n: virgin!bob and face-sitting was a request, and needy and nervous submissive!bob was another one, so I decided to mix them with my ideas: beach episode and birthday party / sex. I don't have experience writing (nor reading) virgin men nor face-sitting nor submissive men / dominant women soooo I tried my best and hope you all like it, also english isn't my first language and for more notes and tags check ao3

word count: 9290

Bob's birthday was around the corner, and pretending they had forgotten to surprise him wasn't an option. ______ knew firsthand how important birthdays were — a before and after, a new beginning. And it wasn't just a celebration of getting a year older, it was a celebration of staying alive. Bob's birthdays (and those of anyone on the team) may not have been joyous in the past, but now he had a family that was glad to have him to celebrate them with.

______ had organised everything weeks in advance, and she was so excited it almost felt like her birthday, but she couldn't help it because she was in love with him. After a lot of begging they managed to get a weekend off all at once, and since it was summer they decided to rent a mansion in the Hamptons on the beachfront for a change of scenery, celebrate Bob's birthday and relax on the beach. Also, since they would probably need them to get around, they decided to go in cars even though going by helicopter or private jet would be faster: ______, Bob, Yelena and Fanny went in one and Bucky, Ava, John and Alexei in another, listening and singing along to the Spotify playlist they all shared, with songs they had all chosen and sometimes also played in the tower while training or doing other things. After about four hours of driving they arrived at the address, were greeted by the owner and took the suitcases out of the cars.

"Be careful with this one, please," ______ asked Bucky as he took one of her suitcases from the boot of the car she'd been in, parked in the courtyard while Bob and the others explored the inside of the mansion. They were probably on the first floor, choosing their bedrooms.

"There's no physiological need to bring so much stuff," said John, nonchalantly hefting some suitcases over his shoulders as they all made their way to the open door to go inside.

"Most of them are presents for Bob," she said in a whisper, slightly embarrassed.

"What did you get him?" asked Alexei, also carrying suitcases on his shoulders.

"The question is, what didn't she buy him?" said Bucky, carrying the suitcase she had indicated as if it was a princess in his arms.

"A little bit of everything, really... I may have overdone it a bit, yeah..."

Maybe then Bob would feel in a bind, wanting to pay her back when it was her birthday, but when it came to thinking and buying the presents she felt they weren't enough, especially considering that being an Avenger she now had plenty of money to spare.

But inside some suitcases she had a lot of snacks, drinks and even ingredients (and Yelena had obviously taken Fanny's feed as well). So they wouldn't have to waste time shopping there, she would make the cake there too, and so as not to waste time cooking they would order food and go to restaurants.

It was around six o'clock on Friday evening when everyone was settled, suitcases unpacked and everything in place, so it was time to start baking the cake, and considering it was a summer Friday the sooner they ordered the better as the food was sure to take a long time to arrive.

"And I'll have a pepperoni pizza," Yelena said finally while Bucky wrote down everything in his mobile phone notes, so that Alexei, who was the one who was going to order by his phone, wouldn't forget anything.

They were all around the kitchen island, and upon hearing his daughter's order Alexei nodded and withdrew with his mobile in one hand and Bucky's mobile in the other to make the call more calmly. Bucky went behind him in case the screen of the mobile was blocked, to unlock it with his fingerprint.

"So who's going to help me bake the cake?" asked ______ as she opened the fridge. There were basic things, like milk and water, that the landlady left for her guests or that others had left before them, so luckily there was no need to go out shopping to make it.

"Me," said Yelena as she went to the drawers in search of utensils.

"And me," said John as he went in search of the aprons where the landlady had said they were.

"Cake?" asked Bob. "Really?" he asked resignedly, since he'd had that conversation with her before and didn't think he needed to repeat it, but deep down he was glad that she was paying so much attention to him for several reasons, among them and above all because he was in love with her. Deep down he couldn't help but smile, a smile that he passed on to the organiser.

"Are you seriously asking me if I'm really going to bake you a cake for your birthday?" She asked the same question as she slammed the fridge shut, holding a huge brick of milk in her hands.

"I said I didn't need to," Bob said as she set the milk down on the counter, next to the utensils Yelena was pulling out of the drawers.

"Shhhh, shut up," she said putting the index finger of her dominant hand in front of her lips as she laughed.

"It's not a proper birthday party if there's no cake, is it?" Ava asked, surveying the scene hunched over the counter while John pulled on an apron.

"If you don't eat the rest of us will eat for you, don't worry," John said half-jokingly but half-seriously as he handed aprons to the girls.

"Yeah, especially him," Ava said to Bob referring to John, since John and the others (including him, even though he was playing hard to get with the cake) were eating like crazy because of their serums.

"Well, then let me help too," said Bob.

"You're the birthday boy, you can't help make the cake," said Yelena as she tied her apron.

"Exactly!" exclaimed ______. "Go to the beach, enjoy yourself," she said to Bob. "Take him," she said to Ava while pointing to the open door towards the beach, and seeing Alexei and Bucky approaching again, she asked them. "Take him."

"Come on, let's go change," Bucky said to Bob, putting his arm around him to walk him towards the stairs. Bob craned his neck to look at ______ resigned but laughing, and she looked at him the same way. Ava and Alexei followed behind them, apart from Alexei reporting that the pizzas would take almost two hours to arrive.

They stood there preparing the cake with a recipe that ______ had saved on her mobile phone, and then the others went downstairs in their swimming costumes with towels in their hands to go to the beach. They decided to make two to make the most of the ingredients, so they wouldn't have to return with them to Manhattan or leave them there, and also so that none (of the men) would go hungry. Luckily it didn't take long, and she and John were left to decorate one of the cakes while Yelena took Fanny for a walk. When they finished they put them in the fridge and then went upstairs to change clothes to go to the beach with the others during the golden hour. When the pizzas arrived they had a picnic dinner on the sand while they watched the sunset overlooking the ocean.

"Can we have cake?" asked Alexei as they packed up and headed into the house for the night.

"The cake is for tomorrow," answered Yelena as they started walking across the sand to the mansion.

"He's not going to blow out the candles" said ______ referring to the birthday boy, in the same position as Yelena, "with the cake in pieces."

"But there are two," reminded Bucky. The truth is, like Alexei, he too wanted to try the cake for once.

"What if I'm in the mood now, too?" asked Bob, trying his luck as he joked, "Can't I even do it?"

"You said you didn't want to," she said playing along in the same tone.

"I said you needn't bother to do it."

"Ohhhh," she exclaimed smiling sideways. "Well... If you want to," she added resignedly. "Only if Bob gives you permission," she said to the others, "they're his cakes."

And then they all looked at Bob, and he gave his approval. They ate the cake they didn't decorate and watched a film of Bob's choice, and then Yelena walked Fanny one last time and they went to bed, because it was still a working day and they had got up early that morning.

The next morning they woke up early as usual, even if they didn't have their alarms set. Their bodies were used to waking up at a certain time, but this way they could take the opportunity to go to the beach early and get a good spot on the shore. Everyone congratulated and hugged Bob on seeing him, Yelena took Fanny for a walk, and Alexei and Bucky went to buy alcohol and more snacks.

It was still early and the day was going to get better in ways he could only imagine in his wettest daydreams, but for the moment the best gift Bob got was the sight of _______ in her bikini. And then, as they settled into their chosen spot on the sand, she took off her bikini top to apply sunscreen to her breasts, as she intended to sunbathe but didn't want to get the bikini mark on her skin or get sunburnt. Part of him didn't want to look, or at least he didn't want to be noticed looking (particularly by her), but he couldn't stop even if he tried — if he didn't look at her bare breasts then his eyes went to her inner thighs. For better or worse John nudged him as he applied sunscreen as well, getting his attention — for a moment he thought he had been inadvertently hit as he rubbed the cream into his skin, but seeing his facial expression he realised it was a predetermined act. With the look he gave him, along with a little smirk, he didn't need telepathy to know what he was thinking. "Look carefully, man." Bucky caught his eye too, he looked the same as John, but he offered him a pair of sunglasses. He knew he wasn't just offering them so the sun wouldn't bother him.

"Thank you," he whispered, embarrassed and blushing as he took them and put them on.

"Aren't you guys going to put sunscreen on?" Ava asked as she put some on as well, looking at Alexei and Bob.

"I want to get a tan," Alexei replied as Ava asked John to help her put it on her back.

"What you're going to do is get burned," Yelena said as she approached him with her jar of cream in hand. "You can also get tanned by putting cream on your back. That's what we do."

While Yelena helped her father cream his back and John did the same with Ava, and correctly assuming that it was only a matter of seconds before ______ asked someone to help her cream her back, Bucky went to the shore with the excuse of testing the water temperature so that the only option at that moment was Bob. He also assumed correctly that even if they didn't know he had done it on purpose they would be grateful with him.

"Can you help me, please?" she said looking at Bob, offering him the cream.

"Uh- Yeah, sure," he replied approaching her, taking the jar in his hand as she turned her back to him.

He poured a good dollop of cream into the palm of his dominant hand, and for a moment he didn't know what to do, or rather where to touch first. If it were up to him he would pull her closer to him, hug her from behind and put his hands on her breasts while spreading her thighs with his leg, but he had to settle for rubbing the cream gently over her back. Good thing he was wearing his sunglasses, and especially good thing she he was on her back, because he couldn't stop staring at how well his hand was gliding down her bare back, from her shoulders to dangerously close to where the only article of clothing she wore was.

"What about you?" asked ______, wondering why he didn't intend to cream himself. "What's your excuse?"

"I have the feeling that the sun can't burn me anymore," he answered.

"But what if it does?" Ava asked.

"The burns are very uncomfortable and painful," said John, "being from Florida you should know better."

"And I'm sure Valentina won't discharge you two for it," said Yelena, including her father.

"You don't lose anything by putting cream on you," said John, "let ______ help you putting it on your back."

Now it was time for them both to be grateful to them, and it was also time for her to rub cream on his back, so when he said he had finished (unfortunately for him, for if it had been up to him he would have been touching her for longer) he handed her back the cream and they changed positions. Even if it was only on his back he loved the feel of her hands on him, and she loved sliding them over his muscles even more.

"It's cold," Bucky warned as he climbed out of the water when he saw Bob approaching the shore.

"Just what I need," he replied as he mindlessly waded into the ocean.

"Yeah," said Bucky, laughing, "it's too hot."

"Thank you again," he said as he turned to watch him walk away to where the others were, and he held up the fist and thumb of his flesh hand.

They spent most of the day there, drinking beers and eating snacks and pizzas from the day before, which they heated up in a moment in the house's oven and microwave. It was in the middle of the afternoon that they went back inside, to wash up and get ready for dinner at a nearby burger restaurant, since that was Bob's favourite food (and if they ordered it out, it was impossible for it to arrive hot and for them to reheat it themselves).

They would have dessert at home, which was the cake that was decorated with a heart and his name, and on it two candles in the shape of the numbers of the years he was celebrating, stuck like the arrow shot by Cupid that he had in his.

Being sung Happy Birthday made him a little nervous, but to him and everyone else because what are you supposed to do during it? Besides all the attention, but at least it was genuine attention from people who did love and care about him, and he was very grateful to have them in his life. He loved them all dearly, but he had a favourite.

"Don't forget to make a wish!" she reminded him, grinning from ear to ear as she recorded it on her mobile phone. He looked at her smiling, then blew out the candles as everyone cheered and clapped.

When everyone went to get their presents he was surprised to see her appear with a pile of presents in her arms, she could hardly fit them and was careful not to drop any of them on the floor.

"Why did you buy me so many?" he asked as he watched her leave them on the table where he was sitting, also confused.

"Oh and wait," said Alexei, "there's more on the first floor."

"I don't know," she laughed nervously and blushed slightly as she unstacked the pile on the table, "I felt there weren't enough of them and I didn't really know what to get you, so I felt that the more I got you the more chances you'd like one of them. Hold on a second," she said holding up the index finger of her dominant hand, "I'll be right back," she said as she turned to head for the stairs to get the remaining ones.

"We're going to be here for half an hour," Ava said half jokingly and half seriously after Bob had opened everyone else's presents first, when it was time to open ______'s presents. Already the table and floor was littered with torn wrapping paper.

"Sorry," she said embarrassed, "you don't need to be here if you don't want to be, so take your drinks out to the swimming pool."

They may not have realised that the other was reciprocating their feelings, but everyone else knew it — it was obvious to the outside eye and they knew that they would rather be alone if possible, even if it was for something like opening presents. Still they all looked confusedly at each other and at Bob, seeking his approval.

"Yeah, no problem guys," he replied.

"Okay," Yelena replied.

And he opened each gift with her sitting next to him, telling her in detail why she had bought him that particular gift, why she thought he would like it or find it useful. He listened delightedly, marvelling at how well she knew him and enjoying her attention and affection.

"It's amazing- You're amazing, I don't know how I can ever repay you for all this."

"Oh don't worry," she said shyly, ducking her eyes to take a quick glance at the two small gifts on her thighs.

Among all the gifts, torn paper and the tablecloth had been easy to hide. She wanted those gifts to be the last ones because they were the most personal. It was a letter and some friendship bracelets that she had made herself, and surprisingly she was more embarrassed to give him the bracelet than the letter, because even though she had written him a cheesy letter it wasn't a romantic declaration of love (although she thought about it, but she didn't feel quite sure and didn't want to steal his protagonism on his birthday).

"Okay, the one I'm going to give you now is the penultimate one... It's stupid, you don't have to wear it if you don't want to for some reason, it's silly, but..." she shrugged, and he obviously realised how nervous she was and wanted to calm her down.

"Don't worry, I'm sure I'll love it," she smiled apologetically as well as warmly, and then took his bracelet and raised both fists, making him have to choose. He touched her left fist with the index finger of his right hand and opened it, revealing an empty palm. Then she hid her hands again and did the same a couple more times, not opening her hand even if he got it right. "Oh come on," he laughed.

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "Here you go," she said opening her fist where she had his bracelet, also taking hers on her thighs with her free hand at the same time. "They're friendship bracelets," she said as he took the one she offered him and as she showed him hers.

"Ohhh! It's so cool!" he said as he looked at his, and he wasn't lying or exaggerating. "Let's see yours?" and she held it up to him so he could get a better look. They were both beaded bracelets of various shapes and colours, but Bob's had his name in beads of various shades of yellow and blue and hers had her name in other colours. "What if... I wear yours and you wear mine? I think that makes more sense," he said shyly as he shrugged his shoulders, "so we'll always be there for each other."

"Oh," she said without thinking as the proposition took her by surprise, but she loved the fact that he wanted to wear a bracelet with her name on it and she wanted to wear one with his on it, "yeah, of course," she replied enthusiastically, and they exchanged bracelets and put them on. Bob's was a little big on her, and his was a little small on her, but it was bearable.

"I've never had anything like this done to me before," he confessed with a touch of tenderness as he looked at the bracelet on his wrist.

"I'm glad I'm the first," she said with a smile on her face as she looked at him.

"Really, thank you so much," he thanked her now as he looked at her in the same way he looked at the bracelet on hia wrist, "for everything- Wait- You said it was the second to last one."

"Yeah... It's another cheesy one," she said as she took the envelope on her thighs and handed it to him. "But I don't want you to open this now," she said as he took it.

"Oh come on," he said slightly annoyed again and disappointed as he was looking forward to seeing what it was.

"It's embarrassing," she replied.

"Well... Okay."

"Come on," she said as she stood up and picked up the wrapping paper lying around to roll it into a ball and throw it in the bin, "let's go to the swimming pool with these."

"Well, all right," he said resignedly, and helped her pack up. They took his gifts up to his bedroom, put on their swimming costumes and went downstairs with the others. "Look what ______ made me," he said showing off the bracelet as they approached the others, sitting on sofas and armchairs in the courtyard.

"Ohhh," exclaimed Yelena, "it's very cute."

"In theory he was supposed to wear one with his name on it," she said showing the one she was wearing, "but he thought of swapping them," which surprised no one.

"Probably my favourite- of her presents," the birthday boy quickly clarified, not wanting to make them feel bad, "I still have one left to open."

The swimming pool was bright thanks to the lights and warm from all the sunlight that had hit it throughout the day, but even so, since it wasn't so hot anymore because it was night time, the swim wasn't so pleasant, so between that and the fact that they felt like drinking again, they didn't last long in there. When they had dried off with their towels they sat down again on the sofas and armchairs, this time all of them, and started drinking and chatting. But there comes a point when you run out of topics of conversation, especially considering that they literally do everything together as co-workers and housemates, so they started to play drinking games, asking each other personal questions. At this point it was John's turn to ask Bob.

"Mmm... I don't know," he said as he tried to think of a question. "I don't know," he said with a shrug, "body count?" he said not particularly interested in the answer, it was obviously the first thing that popped into his mind and he settled for it.

"Um... I don't keep count..." he answered shyly, and completely gained everyone's attention, but especially ______'s, who jealously clutched the cup she was holding in her hand tighter without realising it.

"Really?" asked Bucky in surprise.

"Are you a fuckboy?" asked Alexei as ______ raised the cup in her hand to her lips. "And when?" he asked in surprise as they used to keep Bob under control in every way and he didn't get out of the tower much. They didn't generally visualise him being obsessed with girls.

"Wait, fuckboy?" asked the birthday boy in confusion. "I thought you meant assassinations on missions," he said looking at his blond male friend.

"What? No!" said John, "I meant how many people you've fucked."

"Oh, well... None, or at least that I remember," he replied, surprisingly calmer than when he said he didn't keep track (of the murders), but still a bit shy about telling something so sexually intimate (in front of the girl he was in love with), and then, hearing that answer, ______ couldn't help but cough and spit some drink out of her mouth, stealing the attention from Bob and deciding to spit the drink into the soil of a flowerpot she was standing next to.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking totally embarrassed, "it went the other way," and she wasn't partly lying.

They spent some more time there but went to bed early, or at least to lock themselves in their bedrooms. Bob was anxious to open the envelope ______ had given him, and he opened it sitting on his bed by the light of one of the little lamps on the bedside tables beside. When he saw that it was a letter (quite long) he lay down to read it quietly.

By the middle of the letter his eyes were watering, and by the end tears were running down his sides and into his ears, and he wept with joy as he read how much she appreciated him. He read it three times, and even if it wasn't a romantic love letter (although it was rather ambiguous), it was in fact a love letter through and through. He couldn't believe his luck, that day and in general. He had (almost) everything he wanted, and he couldn't wait to express his gratitude, so he put the letter aside and reached for his mobile phone under his pillow.

Bob: You're probably asleep and you'll see this tomorrow

Bob: But I just read your letter

Bob: And I want to thank you

Bob: Right now

Bob: I'm speechless

Bob: If I loved you less maybe I could talk about it more

Bob: I mean

Bob: I'm not implying that you love me less for all that you've written me

Bob: On the contrary!

Bob: Look, I don't know

Bob: You know me

Bob: And I'm really glad you're in my life too

Bob: I wish I could hug you right now

Bob: I love you too

Bob: I love you very much

Bob: Although I feel that those three words alone are not enough to express how much I love you

Bob: Maybe I should write you a letter too

And then he thought that maybe he was already saying too much — he was too emotional and like everyone else he let his guard down emotionally at night (but he couldn't blame it on the alcohol he had drunk earlier, because thanks to the serum it didn't affect him anymore). He wanted to delete the last two messages, but unfortunately it was not possible in that app. And to make matters worse, he saw the "Seen". Instantly he dropped the phone as if it was burning in his hands, leaving it on the mattress and putting his hands to his mouth as he did when he saw John fall down the lift shaft the day he met them. When he saw "Typing..." he quickly removed his hands from his mouth to exit their chat room at the same speed, seeing the messages in the notification bar.

______: I'm glad you liked it

______: 🥹🥹🥹🥹

______: I want my hug 😤

______: Right now!!!!

______: I'm going to your room

______: Give me 30 seconds

He wasn't expecting that, but he wouldn't complain either because it was just what he wanted: to see her, to hug her, to feel her. He quickly wiped his tears and got out of bed and headed for the door, trying to calm down and act as if nothing had happened, and just as she had indicated in the message, in thirty seconds she was there, tapping twice on the door. He opened it and there she was, wearing only a huge shirt (with clearly nothing underneath holding her breasts in place) and a huge smile that infected him. Then she took a few steps forward into the room and closer to him, standing on her tiptoes as he curled up to embrace her once and for all.

"I love you so much," he whispered in her ear, trying not to sound too romantic or desperate, though it didn't really help the way he was holding her: wrapping his arms around her as if his life was at stake, gently yet tightly.

"I love you too," she said tenderly, hugging his bare chest in the same way. He was only wearing a swimming costume because it was clearly hot, but instead of the balcony being open, it was all closed up and the ceiling fan was on full blast.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked worriedly when they parted.

"No, I had my mobile on silent mode and it's impossible for me to fall asleep so quickly, besides I'm not sleepy yet."

"Me too, actually."

And the same idea came up in both of their minds, only she was quicker to formulate it.

"Can I stay here for a while?"

"Sure," he replied as he stepped aside to let her pass, and as she went into the room he closed the door.

"Did you have a good time today?" she asked as she climbed into bed, taking the liberty of lying on her side.

He couldn't help noticing how the pose emphasised her curves and the folds of her shirt.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked as she did the same in the same position.

"I want to hear it coming out of your mouth," she answered with a smile, and as usual she spread it to him.

"I had a great time today, thank you very much."

"Cool. Thanks to you."

"Thanks to me for what?" he asked with a laugh.

"For existing, I don't know," she replied shyly as she laughed and shrugged her shoulders.

He knew that at that particular moment she wasn't thanking him for not killing himself in the past, but he knew that in general she was, and that made him happy. Looking at her with tenderness and with his eyes starting to water again another idea popped into his mind, and he dared to formulate it.

"Can you hug me again?"

"Sure," she replied, "come here," she said as she stood up a little to make herself comfortable. Seeing that he didn't really know how to stand she decided to help him with directions. "Put your head on my arm," she said, referring to the arm she (and seconds later he) was using as a pillow. He did as she instructed, bending his right arm and resting his hand on her arm, and shyly placing his left hand on her waist. "Come closer," she said as she did as she had just indicated him, pulling her neck closer to his face and entwining their legs a little.

"Aren't you hot?" he asked, mingling concern with confusion, unintentionally tickling her neck with his voice. That question caused one of her eyebrows and the corners of her lips to rise.

"What do you mean?" she asked now with a small smirk on her lips.

"Because I'm too hot."

"Don't worry," she said as she began to run her fingers through the strands of his hair with the hand on the arm she was using as their pillow, causing the birthday boy to relax, closing his eyes and feeling even happier and calmer.

It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable, few things were between them. They were great friends and she was generally a loving person in every way, she hugged him often and they had no problem telling each other that they loved each other despite being in love with each other, but this was the first time they had cuddled like this, late at night and almost naked.

"Bob," she said after a few minutes in comfortable silence.

"Mm?"

"I have... one last present for you," he broke away from her, so that she could see his confused expression and look at her as she spoke. "You can refuse if you don't want to."

"What is it?" he asked, getting more and more confused.

"Sex," she replied. The idea had been on her mind for a little while, but she hadn't had enough alcohol to show complete bravery or make the idea seem crazy the next morning, so her nerves got the better of her as she was brought back to her senses by her friend's surprised facial expression. "I mean- For a moment I thought it would be a good idea because I assumed you'd want to lose it for good and that you'd feel more comfortable doing it with a friend, but seriously," she said nervously, "if you don't want to, it's fine and I understand, no hard feelings."

"Are you sure?" he asked surprised and confused. He was happy too, but it seemed like he was living a dream, and if he really was, he'd rather not wake up.

"Yeah."

"But do you really want to fuck me?"

"Uh- Yeah Bob," she answered, blushing and holding back a nervous laugh.

"Why?"

"Because you're really hot, honestly," or not quite, because she still didn't dare to confess that it was also because she was in love with him, and this wouldn't be a good time to do it if she dared. At that moment she could make the excuse that she just wanted to help a friend having sex with him without having to risk her feelings not being reciprocated, which was partly true, but not entirely. "And because I want to help you and make you happy."

"You don't mind that I'm inexperienced?"

"Of course not," she said confidently, placing the palm of her right hand on his cheek. "In fact," she said, smiling and blushing, "I'm glad to have the chance to be the first," she said stroking his cheek with her thumb. "It means you won't forget me."

"I'm going to need your help...." He said, and instantly felt her rub her knee against his cock, which began to harden as he cuddled with her. "A-And.... I don't know if I can last long..." He said nervously and ridiculously excited, it was already showing in his voice and breathing.

"It's okay honey," she said smiling warmly as she brushed his hair out of his face, "don't worry."

You could say that kissing was like signing the agreement, getting down to business. It was she who moved closer to him, leaning in and breaking what little space there was between them. She didn't know if she was his first kiss too, but she liked to think she was, it made her feel even more special. She took pity on him kissing him slowly, and he played along until they started to get hotter and hotter. Although he moaned as much or maybe even more than she did to her surprise he wasn't a bad kisser, maybe it was beginner's luck.

"Do you want to do it with the light off or on?" She asked with bated breath as they broke apart for lack of air.

"On, I want to see you," he dared to answer in the same state, which brought a smile to her face.

Then she told him to sit on the edge of the bed, getting up to take off her panties and then her shirt in front of him, who watched her in astonishment.

"Aren't you going to undress?" she said pointing to his swimming costume with a clear erection as she approached him, raising an eyebrow and smiling playfully.

"Oh, right," he said nervously as he stood up and pulled down his swimming costume, dropping it to the floor and releasing his erection. Now the only thing they had on were their bracelets, and obviously he felt her eyes on his crotch, her eyes went there as his eyes went to hers and her breasts again.

"Good size."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's perfect," she said to flatter and soothe him (but she wasn't lying) as she moved closer to him, standing on tiptoe and putting her hand back on his cheek and the other on his shoulder, motioning for him to lean in for another kiss, this time more sweetly than passionately. "And all for me," she said before kissing him.

Then she motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bed with his legs spread, and he complied, resting his hands behind him. He assumed she would sit on top of his cock, but he shuddered all the same as he felt her sit on his right thigh as they settled in, feeling her wet lips on his skin and her thigh rubbing against his cock in the same way her hard nipples rubbed against his muscular torso. And then, as if that wasn't enough, she began to rub herself against him as she gave him a hickey on his neck and brought her hand to his cock. He tensed unconsciously as he felt her hand wrap around it, and she slowly but firmly stroked up and down and then down and up.

"Oh God-," he moaned without thinking, his breath hitching and his voice trembling. After a pause to try to get used to the sensation he asked, "W-What do I do?"

"Nothing right now, just relax, okay? Let me know if you feel like you're going to cum," she said as she moved to his lips to kiss him again, this time more passionately than before.

He whimpered as his voice choked in a sloppy, hungry kiss. His desperation was palpable, his cock was hot and throbbing. He whimpered at the slightest caress on it and on his thigh, adding some nonsense when their lips were parted, apart from watching hypnotised how her hand move.

Her left hand clung to his right shoulder and wrapped around his back like a normal hug, and he also wrapped his right arm around her waist. Her breath hitched as he did as she slid more and more easily up his thigh as she became wetter and wetter. Also, as she kissed him, she increased the speed of her hand even more as their arousal grew, until he groaned and told her he was close.

"That was... incredible," he said, his breath coming in ragged gasps, resting his forehead against hers.

"Well, it's only just begun," she replied, laughing softly as she stroked his chin with her fingers. "Tell me something you've always wanted to do, some kink you have, I'll fulfill it."

"Uh- I don't know..." He said hesitantly as he pulled away from her, resting his hands shyly on her waist.

"Oh come on, everyone has kinks, and it probably doesn't scare me," she said in an attempt to calm him down. "I don't judge either."

"I'm a little ashamed to say it..." he said shyly.

"I'm not afraid to do a footjo-"

"What!?" he asked confused and surprised, but laughing at the same time. "No, it's not that! Why do you think it's that!?"

"Fuck, isn't it?" she asked surprised but also holding back her laughter as she put her hand to her mouth to cover it.

"No, why do you think that?" he asked again, now desperate to know the answer as he laughed.

"It's like- the most common weird fetish among men," she replied as she shrugged, still with her hand in front of her mouth trying to hide her laughter. "But don't change the subject and tell me, come ooon," she said putting her hands on his shoulders and trying to shake him.

"Okay," he said trying to sound more serious, "but please don't laugh."

"Okay," she replied, and when she was silent she made direct eye contact with him, but her lips were trembling as she tried to hold in her laughter. It felt like when at school the teacher said that the next person who laughed would be punished, you tried to be serious but you'd look at your friend holding in your laughter and it was all fucked up, but this time Bob was both the teacher and friend. "If I laugh it's not because of that!" She hastened to add in her defence as she laughed, her laughter rubbing off on him as he dropped his back onto the mattress. At least thanks to that moment he was already calmer, both emotionally and sexually.

He stretched out an arm to grab a pillow and put it over part of his face. She could see him giggling, but as the smile faded, she, still sitting on his thigh, knew he was getting ready to confess what he wanted to do to her, or rather, what he wanted her to do to him.

"I want you to sit on my face and ride it."

"Oh," she exclaimed, trying to hide her astonishment as she hadn't expected that, but she didn't dislike the idea either, "interesting. Is that why you put the pillow over your face?" She dared to joke, "To get used?"

"Have mercy on me, please," he said as he laughed, half joking and half serious.

"I will," she said more seriously now as she settled herself, sitting on his waist and leaning forward to pull the pillow away from his face, "no problem," she said resting her hands on his shoulders, nodding and with an encouraging smile that she wanted him to see. "And it's nothing to be ashamed of or weird, a lot of men like that too," she said quietly.

"I'm beginning to worry that you know so much about men's kinks," he said again half joking and half serious.

"I had some curious experiences, yeah... But who hasn't?" she asked without thinking.

He. He didn't have any, and when she realised what she had said, which fortunately was quick, she put her hand quickly to her mouth again.

"Fuck- Sorry," she said embarrassed.

"It's all right," he said laughing resignedly as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

"So... Are you sure you want to?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"You're going to find it hard to breathe..." she warned.

"It's not like you can kill me."

"That's fair," she said smiling sideways, "all right then," she said leaning down to give him a short but sweet kiss on the lips. "But warn me if you need to stop, okay?" she said as she pulled away from him to change positions, and he nodded.

She was honestly embarrassed to find herself putting her knees to the side of his head and settling down to bring her pussy closer to his face, it was the first time she had ever done such a thing, but she was glad to experience what she was experiencing and to be able to say that in a way he had been her first time too.

But she didn't want to sit down dropping her weight — she was afraid of hurting him with her weight, though she knew that (as well as choking him) was impossible. She made eye contact with his pleading eyes, eyes that were so kind to her that they soothed her, and at the same time also excited her. And all he could see was her, but mostly he only had eyes for her.

He swallowed, taking a deep breath as she slowly sat on his face, slowly adding more and more weight until she was completely on top of him. He began to fuck her with his tongue, straining to move his tongue quickly and do his best. The instant she felt that along with the tip of his nose against her already sensitive clit she moaned and clutched at his scalp, partly for stability as she began to rub herself against him.

The moans of one excited the other, although his could barely be heard as he was crushing the lower half of her face with her pussy. Nothing but the moans of both and the sounds of his tongue licking inside him filled the bedroom (along with the ceiling fan, the only witness in there to what they were doing and which was doing nothing to quench the heat they were feeling). That made her move harder and faster against him, and the more she rubbed his nose against her clit. She felt a little guilty because she knew he couldn't breathe, but she also knew she had nothing to worry about thanks to his powers. And she was close, feeling hotter and hotter inside her, and she desperately rolled her hips on him, showing him no mercy in that regard.

With her head thrown back, her lips parted as she moaned, she arched her back and clenched her toes as the heat building in her belly surged down her body, and she unconsciously tried to pull away from him through the spasms of pleasure she felt in her clitoris. Bob held her thighs tightly in his hands, large palms that shyly and slowly slid to her buttocks, squeezing them needily when they reached them.

When she pulled away from him he felt her orgasm slide down her entrance and drip into his mouth, and then she lay defeated beside him as he wiped his face with his right arm.

"So did I do well?" He asked anxiously for the answer, turning his neck to watch her catch her breath at the same time he did, but with his eyes closed. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah yeah," she moaned, still with her eyes closed, not noticing that his eyes were fixed on her breasts. "And you? Are you all right?" She asked as she opened them and craned her neck, moving her arm towards him for physical contact.

"Oh yeah," he replied with bated breath, nodding his head. "Better than ever, thank you," he said laughing nervously and blushing.

"You're welcome," she replied also laughing. She had to laugh, the situation was surreal but she was loving it.

"Um- Can I touch your tits...?" he asked shyly, trying to look her in the eyes and trying to avoid looking at them, but failing in the attempt.

"Touch anywhere you want honey, I'm all yours," she said smirking. "Come here," she indicated with her index finger, and he obeyed putting his knees at her sides and sitting on her, careful not to drop his full weight so as not to hurt her. Trembling he brought his hands to them, at last touching what he had wanted to touch all day and for months.

"Oh God," he said in awe, his breath hitching as he squeezed them, "they're so soft... And so beautiful..." he said mesmerised as he leaned down to get much closer to them, and as an idea popped into his mind he looked up, "Can I suck them...?"

She didn't even answer, she just grabbed him by the back of the head with her dominant hand and put his face in them. He rubbed his face against them and in the cleavage, and then, while squeezing one he did everything with the nipple of the other: kissing, biting and pulling, licking and sucking... — not necessarily in that order, he just did what he felt without thinking, moving from one action to another when he got tired of one, and the same from one tit to the other. Now that he had the chance to touch her exactly where he wanted to he wasn't going to waste it.

"Bob..." she moaned as she lifted his chin, wanting to get his attention and make him look at her. Their hungry gazes connected, even though his hair was falling messily down his face and saliva was running down his chin. "Kiss me," and as usual he obeyed, and their lips met again, as did their saliva and tongues. "What else do you want me to do?" She asked when they broke apart for lack of air.

"Fuck me, ride me," he begged, "please," he said as he pulled back from her and lay down on the bed.

He watched nervously but anxiously as she settled down on top of him and took hold of his cock to finally push it slowly inside her. Bob really wanted to see his cock disappear inside her, he had daydreamed about it many times, but the instant he felt its tip enter her wet entrance he had to throw his head back, whimpering and clutching at the mattress as if his life depended on it, clutching even tighter and panting with every inch he entered her.

"Are you okay my love?" She asked as she sat fully on top of him, not because of the weight but because of his condition. Bob's was a little big on her, and she was a little small on her, but it was bearable. She knew he could handle it, but she wanted to make sure.

"Yeah-" he moaned, loosening his grip on the mattress.

"Yeah," she said smirking, "you look very good..." she said as she scanned his muscular abdomen, the same one she'd longed to touch in the morning as she placed her hands on his lower half.

"Oh fuck-!" he moaned as he felt her start to move, and even if it was slow he gripped the mattress tightly again as she held the index finger of her dominant hand in front of her lips where she had a playful smile, meaning that it was better if the others didn't hear them. "Fuck- Sorry- But you feel- God-"

"Don't be sorry," she said still smiling in the same way, "I love to hear you like this," she said as she grabbed his hands and put them on her waist. "Touch me like you're creaming me again," and he obeyed trying to do his best while trying to stay sane and silent, watching in front of him her tits with his saliva traces and his hands sliding up and down and up and down, from her tits to her buttocks.

"Fuck- You feel so good-" he moaned, trying to keep it to a whisper. "Both inside and out... I-I don't think I'm going to last long..."

"Not yet honey, come on," she moaned, "you can do it, I know you can. Do it for me, okay?" she pouted as she wiggled. "Be a good boy and cum when I tell you to."

"P-Please..." he whimpered, tightening his grip on her buttocks. It was definitely going to leave marks, but she wouldn't complain and would wear every bruise and scratch like badges of honour.

"Wait, I assure you, it's better to cum at the same time."

Surprisingly he obeyed again. She thought that by picking up the pace he would cum instantly, but he endured it well, and clearly let him know it by saying that he was taking her very good. Luckily for him she didn't have long to go before she was at the same point as he was — it seemed like his cock was made for her, and to be honest, it was making her too hot to see how he was on the verge of tears as he felt so much pleasure thanks to her.

Hearing her moan his name between compliments as they made eye contact while bouncing on top of him was the last straw, literally. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, thinking it would stop the sobbing, the moaning, and above all the orgasm coming out of him, but it was no use. He didn't have time to warn her, but neither did she. The sensation of her wet walls pulsing around him, just as his cock throbbed inside her as he filled her was too much. Unconsciously, as he felt both his body and hers go into spasms he gripped her waist tightly again as when she was on top of his face.

There was no turning back now, she could proclaim his virginity and what was the best orgasm of his life. Although he knew it would feel better than using his hand he didn't imagine it would feel that good. He was thankful he was lying down, because he ended up exhausted (although he guessed correctly that he would soon recover all his energy, also thanks to the serum). And he wasn't the only one, but she still slowly rocked her hips back and forth, wanting to enjoy him until the last few seconds before she was separated from him.

"God," he sighed, "that was... wonderful," he said as he let go of her hips and she stood up, pulling away from him, "thank you so much. Uh- Did you have fun?" he said as he craned his neck to watch her, watching as she sat in the gap between his legs and let out his semen mingled with other fluids.

"Bob, I've cum twice," she said pointing to her entrance, and as he heard her answer and saw all that came out of her he blushed, but most of all he felt happy and proud of himself, "what do you think?" she asked smirking, a smile that infected him.

"I wanted to make sure," he answered as she approached him awkwardly, her knees giving out from riding him so much one way or the other.

"But you didn't cum when I told you to," she said as she dropped down beside him, laying on her side as she was at first.

"Did you? I think you were more busy cumming on my cock," he said as he got into the same position as her, and the instant she heard that she gasped and had to hold a laugh at the same time.

"How dare you...!?" she asked totally surprised. "I'll have to punish you for double," she said playing along.

"Whenever you want," he said, and they both leaned in for a kiss, short but sweet as their smiles relaxed. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You already are."

He would take that as a "Yes".

"Um... Your letter is very romantic, and always but especially this weekend you've been very... attentive and affectionate with me," seeing where he was going the young woman's face became more serious, "and I was wondering if... you're in love with me, because sometimes I get that feeling but sometimes I also think I'm delusional..."

"What makes you doubt that? Apart from the obvious," she said referring to his low self-esteem due to his depression and traumas.

"I remember a few months ago I said I liked short skirts and soon you started wearing a lot of them, but it could also be because it was getting hot," he said smiling nervously but hopefully, and now he was the one who spread the smile to her.

"It was because of you," she laughed defeatedly, nodding slightly with her eyes closed. She could no longer escape or deny it, but after what they had done she felt hopeful and it wasn't a bad time to confess it once and for all. "It's all because of you, Bob," she said as she opened them, looking up at him with a tender gaze.

"You make me the happiest man in the world," he said grinning from ear to ear as he rose to get on top of her, kissing her face full of kisses as she giggled with a blush. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said as she laughed and placed her hands on his cheeks before kissing him again.

"I can't believe the candles' wish came true so fast," she said as she put her hands on his shoulders.

"Was it me?" she asked surprised but happy.

"Yeah, you — to have you all to myself once for all."

© trainer-from-unova / alicent burton | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

post credit scene:

"Hey, now that I think about it, what kinks do you have?" Bob asked when the room was quiet and dark after taking a cold shower, trying to sleep once and for all.

"Good night my love," she replied with a laugh.

[rosalettewrites]

cat's out of the bag.

summary: something’s going on with bucky barnes and sam wilson is determined to get to the bottom of it. 

pairing: bucky barnes x reader. 

warnings/tags: mostly sam pov, fluff, no smut, sam is captain america, no y/n, no use of y/n, gender neutral reader, the thunderbolts are a part of sam’s team?? idk val doesn’t exist whatever this is an au. 

word count: 1.1k 

A/N: my first request! this one’s a bit of a short one because i did it in a bit of a rush. life’s going to be super busy and i probably won’t be able to get around to it for a while, so .. i hope this does your request justice anyways and thank you again for your req!!! enjoy :). This fic is also cross-posted to ao3 and you can find it here. 

Bucky never giggled. Bucky never texted on his phone. And Bucky sure as hell never giggled while texting his phone, and yet here Sam was, watching the bionic staring machine, doing just that. Bucky never responded to his texts, copious memes he knew Barnes would find funny sitting embarrassingly unanswered in their DMs. But whoever Bucky was messaging was compelling enough that he was actually laughing, not to mention responding.

“Who is that?” Sam asked, trying to act not as interested as he felt, words mumbled around the coffee mug he’d been sipping from.

“Nobody.” came Bucky’s signature curt reply, quickly turning his phone off and tucking it away. Sam’s brows furrowed, watching the former soldier quickly grab his jacket, hurrying out of the Avenger’s tower common room. Suspicious. 

Sam wasn’t one to let something go, especially not when it came to Bucky, so he decided to snoop. 

——

So, here he was, actually following Bucky around the city like a creep, like he wasn’t tailing the most prestigious and prolific undercover assassin in the world. How Bucky didn’t manage to spot him was beyond him — he was totally assuming as he weaved through farmers market stalls, armed with nothing but sunglasses and a hat that he now realized had the Captain America logo on it. Nice espionage work, Wilson. 

He followed Bucky through the market, to plum stands and bread vendors, to a florist that sold some bouquets ornate and captivating enough that Sam thought to blow his cover and actually grab a bouquet for himself, or for Sarah. But no, he had to keep pushing, keep relenting. So he followed Bucky, all the way back to his apartment — 

Sam had been to Bucky’s apartment before. And this was not it, this was an adorable townhome somewhere in West Village, definitely miles away from Bucky’s apartment. The soldier walked up to the steps, brandishing the flowers, knocked, and entered the house.

This was getting weird. Sam turned on his heels and headed back to the farmers market.

——

This mission wasn’t supposed to go this badly. It was supposed to be quick and easy. Go in, stop the bad guys from dealing arms or whatever it was they did, and exit. But these guys had bombs, and Sam and his team were not prepared for the arms they had on hand. Half a decimated building and six law enforcement vehicles later, and the culprits were finally apprehended, and Sam and his team practically limped out of the building, clutching at various wounds and groaning. 

Most of them looked pretty worse for wear — the ones that didn’t take the serum, at least. A battered Ava was nursing a nasty gash on Yelena’s head, John and Alexei were pretending like they weren’t hurt, and Bucky was on his phone again, frantically texting. Sam could barely hear anything over the sound of his ears ringing, but he watched as Bucky lifted the phone to his ear, muttering in what Sam assumed to be a hushed tone (though again, he couldn’t hear a thing). 

“Hey, yeah, I’m okay. It’s on the news already, isn’t it? Don’t worry, it’s all taken care of. I’ll be home for dinner. Probably. Yes. Okay. We have nurses at the tower, don’t worry. Okay. Sure. Love you, okay? Bye.”

Did Sam hear that right? Did the Winter Soldier just tell this mystery person on the phone that he loved them? No, surely not, right? He was deluded, and he’d hit his head, and he was being ushered back to the Avengers tower by Mel. 

Now he really needed to get to the bottom of this.

But nothing ever went right for Sam Wilson, did it? Because before he got a chance to even begin to confront Bucky about it, you showed up. You were not at all what Sam pictured, if he had even gotten a chance to picture you. You showed up in scrubs, your messy hair pushed back from your face, cheeks flushed as though you’d practically sprinted to the tower.

The rest of the team seemed to be just as confused as Sam was as you rushed up to Bucky, your hands immediately roaming over his person, checking for injuries as you fussed over him. Bucky, usually averse to touch and all things that required attention upon him, simply smiled, damn near amused at what seemed to be this stranger grabbing and prodding at him.

Before anyone could intervene, tell this random nurse that this was a private area, he took hold of your elbows, giving you a reassuring smile, mumbling something none of them could quite hear, before he wrapped his metal arm around your waist, pulling you in for a hug. 

When he pulled away, his gaze met all of the Avengers, their disgusted/shocked/perplexed expressions tugging him away from the affection he was sharing with you. Clearing his throat, his facial features morphed back into that dark, neutral look everyone was much more used to, and he glanced over at you for a moment.

“Cat’s out of the bag, isn’t it?” you asked, lips curled into a soft smile, and Bucky chuckled, turning back to the team.

“Guys. Say hi. This is the person I’ve been telling you about the past few weeks. My partner. They work at the hospital just nearby.” 

You gave the team a warm smile, introduced yourself with a wave, and Sam could see why Bucky had fallen for you. You emanated an aura of comfort, like anyone could come to you with any sort of problem and have it solved instantly just by being around you. You were kind, gentle, caring, just the kind of person Sam had pictured seeing Bucky with. It made him smile, though something else tore through those kind thoughts.

“What do you mean you’ve been telling everyone?” 

Bucky turned to face Sam, lips curling into the mischievous smirk Sam had noticed was only saved for when Bucky was making fun of him. Ava turned to face him, shrugging like it was completely normal. 

“Oh, yeah, Bucky told us all about them. I’m surprised you didn’t know.” 

Bucky stifled a laugh, as did you, and Sam narrowed his eyes at his supposed-best friend, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh, really? You think you’re too good for me now, huh, Barnes? You got a partner now and you think I don’t deserve to know?”

“Because I knew you’d react like this!” Bucky retorted, arm draped over your shoulder as the team began to head back into the tower, the sounds of Captain America and the Winter Soldier the only conversation coming from the group as they headed up to the med bay for some well-needed medical attention. At least they had an extra nurse with them. 

[buckysleftbicep]

for better or for worse (1) 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x reader (fake marriage au)

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors, dni, sexual tension, one bed trope,

summary: you and bucky are forced to play newlyweds at a luxury honeymoon resort. he’s controlling, you’re reckless, and now you’re sharing a bed. the problem? it’s getting harder to play pretend. and you’re not sure either of you will survive what comes next.

word count: 2.5k

author's note: hi my loves! this is one of my uncompleted series, and i'm posting in hopes i could be motivated to complete it! if you'd like for a chapter two, let me know! your support means a lot to me <333

series masterlist

“You can’t be serious.”

Your voice cut sharply through the room, echoing off the concrete walls of the team's briefing room. The table was scattered with dossiers, mission files, half-drunk coffee, and exactly zero logic as far as you were concerned.

Val didn’t even blink. She just sat there at the head of the table, calm as ever, the faintest glint of amusement betraying her otherwise impassive face. “Dead serious.”

You folded your arms, glaring. “Out of everyone here… him?”

“I’m flattered,” Bucky muttered beside you, tone flat as a dry desert. He didn’t even look your way, probably didn’t want to see the way your eyes narrowed like you were about to throw something sharp at him.

Val’s smirk deepened. She leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, fingers steepled under her chin like a cartoon villain with far too much power. “You two have unresolved issues, so congratulations. You’re married now.”

Yelena let out a full snort of laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth like she was watching a slow-motion car crash.

John gave a low, gleeful whistle. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

“Why can’t you send Walker?” you snapped, jerking a thumb at him. “He already looks like he belongs on a honeymoon with his ego.”

“He have emotional capacity of wrecking ball,” Alexei chimed in, voice thick with his Russian accent, waving a hand dismissively. “Very destructive, not subtle.”

“No, I don’t—” John started to protest, indignant.

Yelena rolled her eyes. “You cried at Fast and Furious 7, and it wasn’t even the sad part.”

John scowled. “It had layers.”

She dropped a thick file onto the table. Glossy surveillance photos slid free, including a few charred, smoking blueprints and a shot of Raskovic toasting champagne in a cabana.

“His last shipment,” Val continued, “levelled half a research compound in Tunisia. I need charm, subtlety. Not testosterone."

You let out a disbelieving huff and gestured vaguely in Bucky’s direction without looking at him. “And you think this has charm?”

“I ooze charm,” Bucky said flatly.

You finally turned to glance at him. “Yeah, I can see that. Real honeymoon material.”

Yelena grinned wide, leaning across the table toward you like she was settling in for the drama. “This is going to be so entertaining.”

“Better than reality TV,” Ava added, her boots kicked up on the table, legs crossed lazily.

Alexei clapped his hands together, beaming like someone’s very drunk uncle at a wedding. “Marriage is beautiful thing, bond of love. Trust."

You turned your gaze back to Val, still hoping against reason that she would crack and admit this was some twisted, long-game prank. “There has to be another way.”

She gave you that look. The one that always meant: I could have you killed and get away with it. And then she smiled, teeth sharp and polished.

“Not unless you want to tell the weapons dealer you’re siblings who sometimes make out.”

You blinked, as John gagged audibly in the background.

“…Fine,” you muttered, jaw clenching.

Bucky didn’t even react. He just let out a grunt, pushing his chair back slightly. “Let’s get this over with.”

With a dramatic flourish, Val produced two small velvet boxes from her bag and slid them across the table. “Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Barnes. Honeymoon begins in twenty-four hours. And if either of you screw this up, if he suspects anything, you’re both done. There are no second chances with Raskovic. None.”

You flipped open your box. Inside, a slim platinum band gleamed under the overhead lights. It looked delicate, elegant, like something a real wife would wear, if she didn’t want to commit murder against her husband before check-in.

Val’s voice was cool as steel. “Play the part. Laugh. Kiss. Look like you can’t keep your hands off each other. Be convincing.”

“Oh, we’ll be convincing,” Bucky muttered as he slid the ring onto his finger, his voice almost too casual. “Won’t we, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer.

You were too busy imagining what it would feel like to punch your fake husband in the face.

Six Hours Later

“Tell me again why I agreed to this,” you muttered, yanking your suitcase behind you as the team's transport SUV barrelled down a sun-drenched coastal road, the ocean stretching endlessly beside it like a taunt.

The scent of saltwater mixed with the heat of the asphalt, the resort town glinting in the distance like something out of a luxury magazine ad you would never willingly sign up for.

Bucky’s voice cut through the silence from the driver’s seat. “Because you have a hero complex,” he said, one hand firm on the wheel, the other draped lazily across the armrest like he wasn’t wearing a metaphorical wedding ring that made your eye twitch. “And you like pretending you don’t.”

You scoffed, adjusting your sunglasses as you shot him a glare. “Because I was assigned to this.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Because you’re reckless and don’t listen to orders.”

Your head snapped toward him, the suitcase thudding into your shin as you turned in your seat. “Because you're a controlling jackass who never takes the stick out of his—”

“Children,” came John’s voice through the SUV’s overhead comms, the speaker crackling just enough to ruin the moment. “Behave. Uncle Walker’s listening in.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt.

“I’m placing bets,” Yelena chimed in, the sound of chewing echoing faintly behind her smug tone. “Three days before they fuck. Two before they kill each other.”

“Both, maybe same night,” Alexei added almost cheerfully in the background, as if he were discussing weather patterns.

You let out a long, exasperated breath and turned back to the road, jaw tight, sunglasses hiding the slow blink of disbelief at your life choices.

Bucky didn’t look at you, but you could feel the smugness radiating off him like heat from the dash.

“You should rest,” he said, casting a sidelong glance your way. “You’re crankier than usual.”

You crossed your arms, slumping just enough to make your annoyance known. “Maybe I’d be in a better mood if I wasn't married the most aggravating man on the planet.”

Bucky smirked like you’d handed him a trophy. “I didn’t realise I outranked Walker.”

“I’m flattered,” came John’s voice again, low and mildly wounded. “Thanks, guys. Warms the heart.”

Twenty Minutes Later – Resort Arrival

The second your foot hit the ground, you nearly choked on the air.

The resort was obscene—like someone gave a billionaire an unlimited budget and said, go nuts.

The entrance was framed with cascading white orchids, marble walkways that looked freshly polished gleamed under the golden tropical sun, and an honest-to-god quartet played soft jazz somewhere near a sculpted garden arch.

Fountains bubbled lazily with rose petals floating on the surface, and in the distance, gauzy white silk cabanas shimmered beside an infinity pool that looked like it led directly into the ocean. Uniformed staff moved like clockwork, trays of champagne glasses catching the light like diamonds.

Bucky stepped up beside you, duffel slung over his shoulder, and took it all in with an arched brow. “Great,” he muttered under his breath. “We’re in a Bond villain’s wet dream.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself. “Try not to glower too hard. We’re supposed to be happy newlyweds, remember?”

His gaze flicked to you, mouth twitching like he wanted to laugh or maybe bite. “Try not to stab anyone with your heels.”

You didn’t reply. Not because he was right, but because the stilettos Val made you pack could absolutely be used as a weapon. And likely would.

Inside, the air conditioning hit like a blessing. The check-in lobby was all white marble and gold accents, with soft lighting that made your skin glow unnaturally perfect.

A stunning concierge greeted you with the kind of practiced smile that made you want to start lying immediately.

“Welcome to El Alma Dorada, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes,” she said, hands clasped over a sleek tablet. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Before you could even fake a smile, Bucky’s hand slid into yours.

It was warm—calloused, solid, and entirely too steady. You blinked down at the contact just as he turned on a grin so smooth it knocked the wind out of you.

He leaned in a little, close enough that you could smell his cologne, feel the press of his thumb brushing slow, affectionate circles against your knuckles.

“Couldn’t wait to get here,” he said easily, voice pitched low and full of some fabricated warmth. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

Your mouth went a little dry.

“…Uh—yeah,” you stammered, smile slow to appear as you forced yourself to lean into his shoulder like it was second nature. “We’re just so excited to start our new life together.”

His hand squeezed yours—subtle, but firm. Reminding you.

Play the part.

You turned your head just enough to rest lightly against his bicep, stretching your grin until your cheeks ached. “So excited.”

The concierge giggled, clearly charmed. “Your honeymoon suite is ready, and the champagne has been chilled. You’ll find rose petals and—”

“Perfect,” Bucky cut in smoothly, his voice suddenly thick with something intimate, possessive. “Can’t keep my hands off her.”

Your stomach flipped so fast it made you dizzy.

There was a cough—stifled, but unmistakable through the comms. Someone was definitely listening.

Probably Yelena. Or John, trying not to laugh himself into an aneurysm.

“Aw,” Yelena cooed through the comms, voice syrup-sweet. “You two are so cute I’m gonna throw up.”

And told yourself not to murder your fake husband until at least after the complimentary breakfast.

The suite was ridiculous.

Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around half the space, bathing the room in warm, golden afternoon light. The ocean shimmered beyond the glass in postcard perfection, the view so breathtaking it too pristine to be real.

The ivory stone floors gleamed under your heels, each click echoing faintly as you stepped further inside. Silk-draped furniture was arranged like a magazine spread, and on the private balcony, a plunge pool glistened like a sapphire.

A bottle of vintage champagne waited on ice by the sitting area, and just past that, a trail of red rose petals led delicately toward—

“Oh, hell no.”

You stopped in your tracks, eyes locked ahead, body gone still.

Bucky stepped in behind you and raised a brow as he followed your line of sight. He didn’t say anything, just strolled past with calm and tossed your suitcase beside his own like the room didn’t feel like a honeymoon-themed fever dream.

The bed, if you could even call it that, was massive. King-sized, or maybe some custom size beyond your comprehension. It was piled with pristine white linens, oversized down pillows, and a tufted headboard that screamed expensive sin.

The rose petals continued onto the mattress like an arrow pointing straight to your worst nightmare.

Just one bed.

Of course.

You let out a slow, withering breath. “Real polite of you,” you muttered dryly as Bucky moved toward the closet like this was just another mission and not the set of some soft-core romance movie.

“I’m your husband, remember?” he shot back without looking at you, voice dripping with sarcastic charm that made your eye twitch.

You stepped further into the room, suitcase wheels clicking softly across the marble as your gaze remained stubbornly on the bed. “One bed,” you said, mostly to yourself. “Of course.”

“I’ll take the couch,” Bucky said immediately, nodding toward a chaise lounge in the corner.

It was upholstered in gold-tinged fabric, delicate and ornamental. Clearly decorative. Barely big enough for one leg, let alone a super soldier.

You turned and stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “What are we, five?”

His brow rose. “I just figured—”

“We can share the bed,” you cut in, voice quieter now, trying not to sound as reluctant as you felt. “It’s not like we haven’t been in worse situations.”

He paused. Something flickered in his eyes, too quick to name. Surprise, maybe. Something unreadable, something that made your stomach tighten for half a second.

But then it was gone, shuttered behind the same mask he always wore when things got a little too real.

“Sure,” he said, easy as anything. “Whatever you want, princess.”

You rolled your eyes and turned toward the vanity, focusing on unpacking anything just to keep your hands busy. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

The words came out smooth, sarcastic, like everything else from his mouth—but the undertone lingered. He moved toward the bathroom, muttering something under his breath about needing a shower.

And then—like he knew you were watching—he reached up and began undoing the top button of his shirt.

Your fingers froze on the zipper of your bag.

One button. Then the next. Then the next.

You watched—damn it, of course you watched. It wasn’t the first time you had seen Bucky shirtless, but this wasn’t mid-mission or after a fight.

There was no adrenaline. No distraction. Just him, standing in honeyed sunlight, undoing each button with casual ease like he wasn’t setting your pulse on fire.

He shrugged the shirt off one shoulder, then the other, folding it neatly before placing it at the edge of the bed. His left arm remained wrapped in a sleek black compression sleeve, but the shimmer of gold vibranium still peeked through.

His chest was broad and solid, scarred in places, inked in others. Each line of muscle moved with practiced grace, abs flexing slightly as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

You tried not to stare. You really tried.

And then, just to finish you off, the bastard looked at you.

“Want me to leave the door open while I shower?” he asked, tone light. Innocent. Too innocent.

Your mouth went dry. “Why the hell would I want that?”

He smirked, eyes glittering with amusement as he tilted his head. “Thought you might want to join me. Water pressure’s supposed to be incredible.”

You narrowed your eyes, but the heat rising up your neck betrayed you. “You wish.”

“I do, actually.”

You jerked your gaze to the minibar, to the flowers, anywhere that wasn’t his bare chest or that infuriating mouth. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He stepped closer as he passed—barefoot, because of course he was—his voice lowering to a near whisper. You could feel the warmth of him as he brushed by, feel the smugness radiating off every inch.

“Just say the word.”

Then he disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him with frustrating calm.

You stood there for a long beat, staring at the etched floral pattern on the wall. Your heart thumped uncomfortably, your skin too warm, your thoughts, well, they didn’t belong anywhere near a mission file.

This was going to be a problem.

Your earpiece crackled to life.

“Hey lovebirds,” Yelena said sweetly, voice soaked in amusement. “Remember the comms are still on, yes? We can hear everything.”

You groaned, ripped the tiny device from your ear, and tossed it onto the nightstand like it had personally betrayed you.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

a/n: here is me hoping you enjoyed this chapter! love ya and stay safe out there!

[heliads]

Newt x reader Bridgerton AU. Reader, the diamond of the season, is the Duchess of Hastings. She wants to marry someone who likes her as a person and isn’t after her money. Newt, son of a widowed viscountess, needs to marry to save his family’s reputation because his sister Sonya was seen alone with her fiancé Lord Aris before they were engaged. The anonymous writer Lady Whistledown is Ava, a widowed modiste who has her nose in everyone’s business, and Aris is the only one who knows.

'foxes and hounds' - newt

masterlist

The start of a new social season, although intended, supposedly, to be a cause for joy, feels rather more like a fierce uprising of dread, not celebration. Across the ton, young maidens find themselves new entrees– or, entrants– to the marriage mart. This game of rings and dances, men with ambition and women with more, will end in blissful happiness or deepest discontent. And all will be witnessed by every worthy family from one corner of the country to the next.

If all goes according to plan, an eligible would-be bride will find herself engaged to a man she loves, a man in possession of a handsome fortune and a sterling reputation. If luck slips past her, she’ll settle for someone decent, or someone without any income at all. If nothing goes in her favor, her first year in society will not be her last as a single woman. She will have to repeat her attempt the next year, this time without the glimmering aura of a new arrival, and hope that something within her has changed enough to attract a proposal. Otherwise, she will sink to the bottom of the pile of dance cards, ignored, abandoned, and grown up into a spinster. All that hard work gone to waste.

You’ve heard many young women discuss the marriage mart with nothing short of absolute terror in their voices. A good opening season can seal a girl’s fate forever. Attracting the eye of a worthy man is an impossible task for all but the best of the rosebuds, or so it seems. Most of us will settle for something halfway decent– a tidy sum per annum but nothing extravagant, a man with casual disinterest but nothing harsh. Something that can be shaped into something good, or at least ignored in favor of not being alone. Such is the romance of a married life.

You, however, hope to extract a little more out of the whole affair. As the Duchess of Hastings, you have no need for money. A marriage would be nice, the final touch on the portrait of a successful lady, but you do not require the financial stability of a husband. You have plenty of money and plenty of friends. You will inherit your estate. If you look for a husband, you will look only for love.

One would think, then, that entering your first season among the eligible women of the ton would be bereft of the panic permeating through most of your friends in search of husbands. However, when you line up with the rest of the young women to be presented to the Queen at the start of the season, you find that it couldn’t be less true. 

Your stomach is in knots, even as you sweep confidently through the corridor to wait outside the door. The white feather in your hair stands tall and proud. Your dress is crisp and finely stitched, the highest of fashion yet never gaudy. You attract stares wherever you go– from the other girls, envious and jealous and heartsick, from the men, longing and cutthroat and mercenary– but pretend they don’t phase you in the slightest. As duchess, you’ve had plenty of time to grow accustomed to onlookers. You won’t allow them to interfere with you on this all important day.

At last, your name is called, and you enter the throne room, your mother behind you. You keep your steps small but light, and seem to float towards your queen. When the time is right, you sink into an elegant curtsy. The moment seems to last forever, your knees bent, your hands shaking slightly, but when the queen calls you to stand, you look up to find her smiling benevolently at you.

“I believe I have found my diamond of the season,” she announces.

The room erupts in polite applause, and you do your best to smother a smile that’s entirely too giddy to be proper. As you retreat from the room, you gaze at the faces surrounding you, trying to remember which ones look genuinely happy for you and which seem to be identifying a prize pig for the slaughter. When the town gossips all gather later to share their thoughts on today’s proceedings, you’re certain that some of them will attempt to discredit you, saying that of course the queen would choose the duchess as her diamond, but you know just as well as all of them that you deserve the honor today. You were the best of everyone here, and it’s plain to see.

Among all of them, your gaze catches on a singular man, almost lost in the crowd from all the bodies packed together but no less entrancing. What strikes you the most is that his face seems kind, and his eyes sparkle with pride as they watch you go. Pride for you, for your accomplishments. As if he couldn’t be more delighted that you of all people were named the season’s diamond.

Then you’re gone from the room, and the kind man is no longer before you. Still, you puzzle over the encounter long after your carriage takes you home. You don’t believe you recognize him, but that doesn’t mean anything to sway you towards any decision. An image of the young man swims in your mind– short, dirty blond hair, an upturned mouth, dark eyes, his face almost spritely. Clever, for sure.

You know better than to mess with clever men. Clever men are the type to try and twist your mind, convince you that they only love you then attempt to make off with your money. You know full well what marriage to you will offer any would-be suitor. This season, you may be looking for affection, but every man in the room will be after your fortune. The task of finding someone who truly cares for you will be a difficult one indeed.

So, clever men or not, you’ll have to keep your heart under close guard. When the first ball of the season comes to be, you don one of your finest dresses, and firmly admonish yourself to be careful. The game of hearts is not one that you lose. Either you win, or you destroy yourself.

You time your arrival carefully, so as to make the best entrance, and your efforts are rewarded. From the moment you’re announced, all eyes turn to you. Were it not for your extensive experience with being scrutinized in the grand magnifying lens that is the ton, you’d be nervous to have that many people looking at you. Even still, you can’t pretend you don’t feel a small flutter in your stomach.

It gets easier once you sweep further into the room, once people start smiling at you again, when the conversation picks up and you’re asked for your first dance of the evening, which you accept. Your partner is a charming man named Minho– dark hair, witty eyes, an excellent sense of humor. He’s athletic and a decent dancer, and by the time the music stops, you’re back to your usual self again. You can’t stop yourself from mentally sizing up your dance partner. He seems nice, and you wouldn’t be bored around him, at least. His family owns land. Although he’s not of your precise social standing, few are, and he’s close enough to you that it would be a respectable match.

Still– still, you think to yourself, as you move away from the center of the floor once more to consider your dance card, it’s not quite enough. You want love, you want a spark, and you didn’t quite get that with Minho. There are plenty of eligible suitors here, though, and many more balls to come. You’ll have other opportunities to select a match.

A few dances later, though, your feet are beginning to feel heavy and you’re still no closer to finding someone of interest than you were at the start. A good lady of extensive training such as yourself should have no problem dancing the entire night through with a pleasant smile on her face, but you’re still human, still tired, and your charming demeanor is beginning to pinch at the seams before long.

The music for the latest dance ends, and you curtsy to your partner, praying silently that no one else will be looking to fill your dance card for the next rotation. However, when you turn around, you’re greeted with the sight of many anxious faces. Something inside you wilts, perhaps your endurance.

Before the mobs can descend upon you, however, a figure appears in front of you. You sigh in relief to see one of your closest friends, Miss Teresa Agnes. “Teresa! And here I thought I wouldn’t have a single good friend all evening.”

Teresa laughs, her dark hair shining. “I would never abandon you. Certainly not when our diamond is sparkling so spectacularly tonight.”

You smile at her. “I’m not the only one who’s sparkling, Teresa. You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” Teresa says sincerely. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to introduce someone to you. This is Viscount Newt, a good friend of mine. I met him through Thomas.”

You smile to yourself as Teresa turns to beckon someone towards you. Teresa has been harboring a not-so-secret admiration for Thomas since you were all small. This is her first season in the social circles, too, and if she doesn’t come out of it with a proposal from Thomas, you’ll think the sky has fallen. Even now, he’s watching her fondly from across the room, trying to pretend as if he isn’t pining madly while Minho teases him for it.

“Here he is at last,” Teresa says, and all of a sudden you can’t think about Thomas’ case of lovesickness for a second longer, because Teresa has brought her friend before you, and you know him. It’s the stranger from your presentation to the queen. The nice one, the clever one. The one that caught your eye, and then your imagination.

You curtsy automatically, and Newt bows. Once the two of you straighten up, you’re able to observe him more closely. You’d only gotten a fleeting glimpse earlier, but now you can drink in the sight of him, and you do. His eyes are dark, but catch the lights like stars. His mouth has a habit of twitching up at the sides, as if he’s always thinking of a joke but just barely managing to keep it at bay. When he looks at you, he really looks at you. You’ve been stared at all night by would-be suitors, but their gazes never went farther than surface level. Right now, it’s as if Newt can see through to your very soul, and most intimately of all, appreciates it.

Teresa gives you a confused look, and you realize you’ve been standing in silence for longer than is probably courteous. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say.

“I must return the sentiment,” Newt returns. “Teresa has talked about you many times. I’ve been quite eager to meet you.”

“I hope I’m worthy of what she’s told you,” you say.

Newt smiles again. “I believe you’re even better than that,” he tells you.

Teresa is looking at you with an odd smile. “I believe I’d better let the two of you get to know each other, then,” she says, and sweeps away before you can stop her.

Newt laughs. “She’s been wanting to set us up for ages. For a friendship, I mean,” he breaks in hastily. “Apparently, she thinks we have a similar sense of humor.”

“I look forward to finding that out myself,” you smile.

Newt’s eyes flash with mirth again, delighting you. Behind you, the music picks up again. Newt extends a hand towards you. “Would you mind if I shared a dance with you? Unless, of course, you’d rather sit for a while.”

“I’d love to dance,” you say quickly, and it’s true. All of a sudden, the pain in your feet is gone, as if it had never existed at all.

Newt smiles and takes your hand to lead you to the dance floor. The orchestra begins its melody, and you start your dance. You make a mental note to ask Teresa a little more about Newt later; he dances like an aristocrat, but he speaks so freely to you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced in a suitor before.

Newt arches a brow as he steps through the dance. “Sizing me up, are you? It may be improper of me to ask, but I do hope I’m meeting your requirements.”

Your cheeks heat up. “I’m simply appreciating your mastery of this dance. Nothing more.”

Newt laughs easily. “Of course not. It’s not as if everyone else here is doing the same thing right now. Every dance partner is a strategy meeting. In just a matter of minutes, you’ll walk away knowing if I am a worthy wager, and I will do the same. This ball is full of hounds and foxes, my lady. We all know our parts.”

You glance at him, feeling a curious grin tugging at your lips. “And which am I? Fox or hound?”

Newt returns your proud gaze. “I suppose we’ll find out at the end of the season, won’t we?”

You laugh, feeling oddly triumphant. Newt has this way about him that you find enchanting. It’s  almost breaching impropriety with how candid he is around you, but it only makes you trust him more. The dance ends far sooner than you’d like. Newt relinquishes you to the storm of suitors outside, hopefully with just as much reluctance as you.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Newt is truly the only one that stands out to you. You don’t have a chance to dance with him again, but you keep making eye contact as you dance with other partners. You can practically hear his clever words in your head, catching you in the act of evaluating the suitors in front of you. Fox or hound?

When the ball ends and you return to your carriage for the ride home, you’re blissful, practically dreamy. You’ve had enough time with Newt to dream about it until the next ball, where you’ll likely repeat the same cycle over and over again until the season ends.

However, your golden mood is shattered when your chaperone sits down across from you. Her face, by contrast, is twisted with disappointment. “Do you have any idea what sort of trouble you’re getting yourself into?” She asks once the carriage pulls away.

Still caught up in the heady dream of a merry boy who smiled the brightest when he danced with you, you don’t realize the trap descending around you until it’s too late. “What trouble?”

Your chaperone’s lips purse. “You’re meant to be dancing only with eligible gentlemen, my lady. I should hope that you’d be able to recognize the suitable candidates from the unseemly by now.”

The veil is pierced, and you’re beginning to be brought back to earth. “What are you talking about? I thought I made perfectly reasonable choices with my dance partners.”

Your chaperone shakes her head, a quick, sharp gesture. “All but one. Goodness, haven’t you heard about the trouble with that one family? I can’t believe Miss Agnes had the nerve to introduce him to you, but perhaps the fact that she’s so besotted with Lord Thomas is upsetting her mind.”

Your heart freezes in your chest. “You can’t mean to say that the Viscount is not a suitable bachelor? What else could he be?”

The other woman sighs. “You don’t know, do you? My lady, I would not interfere if I did not feel the need, but I can assure you, his motives with you are purely mercenary. That man is desperate for something to cover up the follies of his family, and you, my dear, are the perfect gilded shield.”

You feel cold. “What follies?”

“His sister, Miss Sonya, was seen alone with her fiance,” your chaperone murmurs at last. “Lord Aris. I would think you would have heard his name, although perhaps not connected it with Viscount Newt. Miss Sonya and Lord Aris were happily engaged, and by all accounts it was a fine union, but they were seen together without a chaperone past dark. Quite the scandal. The Viscount knows it and is eager to get the ton talking about anything but his sister’s misdeeds. Entering into a courtship with you would do just the trick.”

She’s right, and you know it, and you hate it. “He seemed so genuine,” you whisper, and instantly know how foolish it sounds.

Your chaperone, to her credit, is kind enough to take pity on you. “He did,” she tells you, “and you looked happy together. You would be less happy, however, when you found out the truth. I would rather you know now and stay away. Men like that are nothing but trouble.”

You nod solemnly, turning your head to watch the dark landscapes rumbling past. The sun is already beginning to rise, a hallmark of a late night out. It had been a beautiful night up until this, and now the entire evening is ruined in your mind.

“I feel for Miss Sonya,” you whisper. “She was already engaged. They were just talking.”

“She knows the rules of society, and so do you,” your chaperone reminds you. “We all have our roles to play.”

And the consequence of setting a foot outside your role is instant public mortification. Yes. What a forgiving world. You immediately plant your exhausted body in your bed when you return, hardly sparing the time to wash and dress, but the only things to bloom from your rest are troubled dreams of the boy that could have been yours. Now that you know the truth– that Newt was only trying to use you for a better reputation– every interaction with him is tainted.

You’d meant what you said in the carriage, though. You did think Newt was genuine. Hadn’t he laughed more than usual when he was with you? Hadn’t he regarded you with that fierce pride of his, as if he’d finally found a mind that was an equal to his? Hadn’t he watched you with something akin to jealousy when you danced with the other men that weren’t him?

Hadn’t you wished he would only dance with you? And don’t you wish that you could truly do what you promised yourself and marry only for love, never mind the rest? It is a simple dream to think that love is easy. Marriage is not simple, not in the ton, not in your lifetime. Every one of your days will be shaped by the whims of society, even when they take Newt away from you.

When it comes time for the next ball, you do your best to strengthen your spirits before you go. You intentionally avoid him, making sure to always have your dance card full whenever the music ends. It’s easy enough to find a crowd large enough to hide you from him, and yet you still catch glimpses of Newt from across the hall, several partners down, in a carriage many behind yours. You successfully go two balls, then three, without seeing him, but it aches like a knife in your ribs when you think about what could have been.

As it turns out, you’re not the only one wishing you were with him. At the fifth ball of the season, your attempts to distance yourself from the viscount are foiled at last. Newt tracks you down, signing his name on your dance card before you can stop him before leading you out to the dance floor.

“That’s a rather abrupt way of asking a lady to dance, don’t you think?” You ask as you curtsy.

Newt bows. “I felt it was the only way of guaranteeing that you would dance with me.”

“A lady never declines a gentleman in need of a dance,” you remind him.

The music picks up, and the two of you begin your paces. “A lady also never avoids a gentleman as thoroughly as you have at the last few balls,” Newt says. “Were it not for the fact that I know you to be as perfectly agreeable a duchess as there could ever be, I would say that it was personal.”

You can’t look him in the eyes, even with his hands on you, guiding you through the steps. “It’s not meant to work out, my lord. Us, I mean. We cannot forget the rules.”

When Newt speaks again, his voice sounds hurt. “Why not? Forgive me, my lady, but I remember what it was like that first night. You were happy. We were happy, and happy together. What changed?”

At last, you risk a glance towards him, and instantly regret it. Newt’s eyes are filled with genuine hurt. Are you wrong? Did he actually want you as more than a cover-up? “I heard about your sister,” you say as delicately as you can.

Still, Newt flinches as if you’ve hit him. “You don’t know the full story,” Newt says raggedly.

“Then tell me,” you beg him. “I would choose you if I could, but everyone seems to think that you are only interested in me to advance your station. Give me a reason to believe in you, not them.”

“I can’t say it here,” Newt whispers. 

“I can’t go somewhere with you alone,” you tell him quietly. “Especially not after what happened to your sister. You must tell me now, or we will never have another chance.”

“Alright,” he says at last. “But you mustn’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”

Once you agree, Newt begins to speak in a hushed whisper hardly audible to you, let alone the other couples around you. “Sonya is deeply in love with Lord Aris, and he is in love with her. So much so to the point that he has been battling a deep rage ever since that awful gossip rag, Lady Whistledown, slightly disparaged her last season. He took it upon himself to find out Lady Whistledown’s identity, and somehow, he did. The only problem is, Lady Whistledown is not someone Sonya would consider a friend. He wanted to warn her about the dangers of being anything less than perfect around that insidious writer, and he didn’t want to waste a moment. He called on her to meet with him as soon as possible. He didn’t think they would be seen, but they were, and of course Lady Whistledown ran with it to discredit them in case they would reveal her.”

You suck in a harsh breath. “It was never anything wrong, then. He merely wanted to protect her.”

Newt nods. “Lord Aris is a good man. He never would have done something like this if he realized how it would backfire. He regrets it daily, even though all he wanted to do was keep my sister safe. The ton knows their characters, too. Neither of them would do anything unseemly. The rumors diminish by the day, and soon, it will all be over. They will be happily married.”

He sighs and looks at you again. “I tell you this to explain myself, and to clear my name. I have nothing to hide from the situation with my sister and her future husband. In fact, it is only because they directly asked me not to spread this information that I haven’t gone public with the identity of Lady Whistledown herself to spare their reputations. I have nothing to fear, my lady. Certainly nothing that would make me risk the happiness of my marriage on a good rumor. I would court you because I have never met anyone like you before, nor do I think I ever will. You are utterly entrancing in every possible way. If you do not wish to be with me in that fashion, I would understand.”

You shake your head quickly. “I do want that, my lord. I want you.”

A careful smile slips across Newt’s face. “Do you mean that?”

“I do,” you tell him. “I have wanted you since the moment I saw you at my presentation. I would have found you no matter what lies they spread.”

Newt grins. “I believe I have decided something important, my lady. About your inner nature.”

You arch a brow as he spins you. “And what is that?”

“You’re a hound,” he informs you matter-of-factly. “Sharp and bright. Brave, too. But, then again, I am a hound as well. We make quite the pair, I think.”

“I think so too,” you tell him. In the days to come, rumors will abound about the viscount and the duchess. At first, there will be surprise across the ton, but then, even the most tenacious of gossips will realize that this makes perfect sense. The most clever of men and the most ambitious of women, bound together in holy matrimony. Even the best of poets couldn’t concoct a story that beautiful.

requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!

the maze runner tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[panerasbox]

i can’t believe it’s tomorrow. this truly went so fast!! here’s the last fic of 30 days of melissa schemmenti. thank you everyone for reading these, it’s been really fun (and challenging!) i’ve slept maybe four hours since tuesday night, im too excited (or nervous) to sleep!! expect the post all about it tomorrow night 🩷

—LITTLE BIT HEISTY; 1 Day To Go

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader. Heist AU | Ocean’s 8 Vibes

Genre: crime romance, slow burn, found family

Word count: 4,198.

summary: Five years after walking out of your life, Melissa Schemmenti shows up on your doorstep asking for help with a job. You’re not sure which is more dangerous: the heist… or falling for her all over again.

The last person you expect to see standing in the lobby of your cybersecurity firm on a rainy Tuesday morning is Melissa Schemmenti.

And yet, there she is leaning on the reception desk like it owes her money, red leather jacket still as worn-in and dangerous-looking as it was the last time she walked out of your life. Her hair’s pulled back, but you can still see the copper strands curling at the edges, defiant as ever. She hasn’t changed. Not in the ways that count.

You pause halfway through the glass doors, heartbeat kicking up before your mind even catches up. You think: She looks good. You think: She’s here for something. And then you think the thing you swore you were over: What if this is about us?

She sees you and smirks. That same cocky, tilted-lip thing she used to use when she’d beat you at pool or pin you against the wall of your old apartment. You hate that you remember the heat of it. You hate more that you miss it.

“Hey, kid,” she says, like five years haven’t passed and your heart didn’t get broken in the middle of a South Philly parking lot at midnight.

“Melissa.” You cross your arms. “Can’t say I was expecting you.”

She shrugs. “Didn’t think I’d be here either. But I need someone with your…skills.”

A beat. You raise an eyebrow. “This a social call or a job offer?”

Her smirk grows. “Both, maybe. But mostly a job.”

You glance at your receptionist, who’s now watching like it’s a soap opera. You jerk your head toward your office. “Five minutes.”

Once inside, you close the door and turn to face her. She’s already prowling the perimeter like she owns the place, eyes scanning the sleek décor, the awards on the wall. You can practically hear the judgment brewing.

“This yours?” she asks, tapping a frame. “Didn’t think you’d go legit.”

You snort. “You didn’t think I’d do a lot of things.”

Her eyes flick back to yours. A moment of silence. Tight, uncomfortable.

“So,” you say, settling behind your desk. “Why are you really here?”

Melissa leans forward, both palms flat on your desk. “You heard of Raymond Cranston?”

Your brain runs a quick scan. “District administrator. Embezzlement rumors, but nothing proven. Real piece of work.”

“He’s stealing money meant for Abbott and the other schools. Slashing budgets, padding his pockets. Barbara’s livid, Ava’s ready to stage a coup, and I’m…” She pauses. Her voice drops. “I’m done watching kids suffer while people like him walk away clean.”

You watch her carefully. Her voice is fierce. Controlled. But underneath, you hear something deeper, something almost desperate.

“You want to expose him?”

Melissa smiles, sharp as a switchblade. “No, hon. I want to rob him.”

A beat.

You blink. “You’re serious.”

“Dead.” She folds her arms. “Gala’s in three weeks. Cranston’s flaunting every dime he stole. I’ve got Ava for the distraction, Jacob for the groundwork, Barbara on logistics, don’t ask how, she’s pretending this is a ‘moral countermeasure’ or whatever, but I need someone who can get into the systems. Security, bank accounts, cameras. You.”

You stare. Then laugh, once, incredulous. “You want me to help you pull a heist on the Philadelphia School District?”

“I want you to help me get justice,” she corrects. “The fact that it’s gonna be a little illegal is just a bonus.”

You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled. “And why me? Why now?”

Melissa hesitates. For the first time, she looks less sure. “Because I trust you. And because you’re the best at what you do.”

Your throat tightens. You wish she didn’t still sound so sincere when she says things like that.

“This is insane,” you say.

“Yep.”

“It could land you in prison.”

“Only if we get caught.”

You stare at her for another long moment.

“Who else is in?”

Melissa smirks again. “Just wait ‘til you see Ava’s outfit. You’ll fold.”

And damn it, you already are.

You regret saying yes somewhere between Melissa telling you Ava Coleman is “handling distractions” and the moment Ava actually walks into your office.

She’s in a metallic rose gold pantsuit, matching stiletto boots, and oversized sunglasses that absolutely do not hide her smug grin. Her hair is pulled into a high, dramatic ponytail that somehow screams both spy thriller and host of a messy reality show. You glance at Melissa. She doesn’t even blink.

“This her?” Ava asks, looking you up and down like you’re the newest model on a showroom floor. “This is your hacker? Girl looks like she files taxes for fun.”

You stare. “I’m the reason your Amazon Alexa didn’t narc on you to the IRS last year.”

Ava gasps. “Oh, so you do know me.”

Melissa sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Ava.”

“What? I’m just saying. She’s hot in a nerdy, ‘I could ruin your credit score’ kind of way. I respect it.”

You deadpan, “And you’re the distraction?”

She flashes a smile. “Baby, I am the show.”

Melissa turns to you with a tight smile. “This is what I’ve been dealing with.”

“I see that.”

Ava flops onto your office couch like she owns it, propping her boots on your coffee table. “So, hacker girl. What’s your handle? Like, your criminal hacker name? You got something cool? HexKitten? ByteMe?”

Melissa snorts. You ignore her. “I don’t have a handle. I run a legitimate business now.”

Ava makes a face. “Boring. I’m calling you ByteMe anyway.”

Melissa gives you a look that says sorry, but she’s clearly not. There’s a flicker in her eyes that tells you she’s enjoying this. You’re not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed.

“Where’s the rest of the crew?” you ask.

“Ava’s the first one I brought in,” Melissa says. “Barbara’s in, but she’s… still pretending it’s a spiritual mission.”

“And Jacob?”

“He cried when I told him,” Ava says. “Like, actual tears. He was like, ‘I always dreamed I’d be recruited for a heist!’ I think he’s building a vision board.”

You blink. “So to be clear, we’re trusting a woman who runs a school like a TikTok account, a kindergarten teacher who considers this a divine quest, and a man who’s treating this like Ocean’s Eleven: Quaker Edition.”

Melissa leans against your desk, arms crossed. “That’s why I needed you.”

It’s quiet for a beat. You glance up and realize she’s looking at you, really looking at you the way she used to, back when things were simpler. When it was just pool halls and bar booths and the soft ache of wanting to be loved by someone who couldn’t quite say it out loud.

You swallow. “I haven’t done something like this in years.”

“I know.” Her voice is softer now. “But you never really stopped thinking about it, did you?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

Ava makes a pshhht noise and pretends to spritz herself with imaginary perfume. “Damn, the sexual tension in here is like, fourth-wall-breaking.”

You both shoot her a glare. She only grins wider.

Melissa turns back to you. “The gala’s in less than three weeks. We need access to Cranston’s schedule, building blueprints, account info…anything you can get. I’ll handle the people. You handle the tech.”

You nod slowly. “And if this goes sideways?”

Melissa’s smile sharpens. “Then we improvise.”

You sigh. “Of course we do.”

Ava claps her hands. “Ooh, this is so exciting! Are we getting code names? I call Diamond Viper.”

“You’re not getting a code name,” you and Melissa say at the same time.

She grins like the cat who hacked the canary. “See? You’re already in sync. Y’all are so married.”

Melissa mutters something about regretting her choices.

You kind of regret nothing.

If your office conference table wasn’t currently covered in blueprints, surveillance photos, and sticky notes labeled “Ava DO NOT TOUCH,” you might mistake this for a teacher work session.

Except no teacher work session features this much crime.

Jacob stands at the front with a laser pointer like he’s leading a TED Talk. Barbara sits stiffly at the edge of the table with her arms crossed, lips pursed in a way that suggests she’s praying for all of your souls. Ava’s reclined in a chair spinning slowly in circles, nodding along to a beat only she can hear.

Melissa is next to you. Too close. She smells like smoke and gum, and every time her arm brushes yours, it short-circuits your brain.

You focus on the schematics spread across the table: a floor plan of the Franklin Institute’s ballroom, where the district gala will be held. You marked every camera, every entrance, every potential security checkpoint. You told yourself this job would be a nice distraction. Instead, it’s giving you whiplash.

Jacob points to a hallway on the printout. “This is where Cranston’s personal suite will be during the event. That room is our goldmine, rumor has it he keeps backups of his embezzlement files on an offline drive. Cash, too.”

“Backups,” you mutter. “That idiot probably thinks USBs are untraceable.”

“He’s not wrong,” Melissa murmurs, leaning in. “That’s where you come in.”

Your eyes flick to hers. “You always knew how to make crime sound like a compliment.”

She smirks. “I always knew how to make you say yes.”

Ava lets out a dramatic ooooh and spins faster.

Barbara shoots a look skyward.

You clear your throat and tap the screen of your tablet. “The room has a biometric lock, likely fingerprint or retina scan. I can spoof it, but I’ll need time on the inside. At least fifteen minutes.”

“I can stall,” Ava says, flipping her ponytail. “I’ve been practicing a fake faint. Someone just has to catch me dramatically and I’ll moan about the patriarchy until the paramedics come.”

Melissa looks at her like she’s considering it, which is concerning.

Barbara folds her arms tighter. “I am not condoning this.”

“Noted,” Melissa says without missing a beat. “And you’re still our contact for real-time radio comms?”

Barbara sighs, muttering something about “the Lord testing her” before nodding once.

Jacob glances around the table. “Wait. Who’s our backup if things go wrong?”

The room falls quiet.

Then Melissa says, “Gregory.”

You blink. “Gregory Eddie? The human clipboard?”

A voice from the door cuts in dryly, “I can hear you.”

Gregory steps in, dressed in black, holding a set of walkie-talkies. “I’m only here because Melissa said this was technically about helping the school.”

Melissa claps him on the shoulder. “You’re our runner. If things go sideways, you get the data and disappear.”

Gregory frowns. “What about the rest of you?”

“We improvise,” Ava says, winking.

Barbara mutters louder. “Sodom and Gomorrah.”

Later that night, you’re the last one in the office. The crew’s scattered, your tablet’s still glowing, and your coffee’s gone cold.

Melissa lingers in the doorway.

“You always stay late?” she asks.

You glance up. “Only when I’m helping a morally flexible elementary school teacher plan a heist.”

She smiles and walks in, slow, deliberate. “It’s good seeing you work again.”

You pause. “You mean ‘good seeing me be a criminal again.’”

“I mean,” she says, pulling out a chair across from you, “you’re the best at what you do. I never stopped thinking about that.”

There’s something heavy between you now. The silence isn’t awkward, it’s familiar. Like coming home and finding all the furniture the same, but knowing the locks were changed.

You say, quietly, “Why didn’t you call?”

Melissa doesn’t pretend not to know what you mean. Her gaze drops for the first time all night.

“Because I thought I was doing you a favor,” she says. “Thought you were better off.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“I know.”

“I never stopped thinking about you either,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Melissa looks at you like you’ve just said something dangerous. “We’re gonna pull this off, you know.”

You nod. “I know.”

And for the first time since she walked back into your life, you let yourself believe it might not just be the job that changes everything, it might be her.

Melissa is yelling at Ava again.

Something about timing, choreography, and Ava nearly setting off a test alarm because she insisted on filming a TikTok mid-dry-run. Ava’s yelling back that “style is substance,” and that if she’s going to be the distraction, she’s gonna distract, preferably in five-inch heels.

Jacob’s somewhere in the corner hyperventilating into a reusable tote bag, while Barbara stands completely still, praying out loud like she’s Moses trying to part the idiocy in the room.

You, meanwhile, are about two seconds away from walking out.

“Enough!” you bark, and the room freezes. “If anyone touches the surveillance rig again before I finish calibrating it, I will throw this laptop out the window and call the FBI myself.”

Melissa turns to you. “Hey, breathe, alright? I’ve got it under control—”

“No, you don’t,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “You don’t have it under control, and you keep acting like this is just some righteous crusade, but it’s not. It’s a damn heist, Melissa. This isn’t just about some corrupt administrator. You’re trying to fix something you think you broke years ago.”

Ava makes an impressed oooooh noise and then wisely shuts up when you shoot her a look.

Melissa doesn’t respond right away. She just looks at you.

And it’s not angry. It’s not even surprised. It’s hurt.

“Everyone out,” she says softly.

Jacob scurries. Ava tries to sass but Barbara grabs her by the arm like a mom who’s had enough. The room clears. The door closes behind them.

You’re left in the silence, with Melissa standing across from you and five years of unsaid things vibrating between you like an electric current.

“You think I don’t know that?” she says, voice low. “You think I don’t wake up every morning thinking about how I screwed it all up?”

You don’t answer.

“I told myself it was about the school. About the kids. But I knew bringing you back into this…” She trails off. “I knew it’d hurt. And I did it anyway.”

You sit down, the adrenaline fading just enough to leave you feeling hollow. “Why, Melissa? Why not just leave it alone?”

“Because I never stopped loving you,” she says, like it costs her something to admit it. “And because this is the only thing I know how to do…fix what I broke. Even if it’s too late.”

You blink hard. “You left. You walked away. You didn’t give me a chance.”

“I was scared,” she says, and there’s no pride in it. “You wanted a future. Stability. Something clean. And I was still fighting ghosts. Still picking fights with shadows. I didn’t know how to let myself have something good.”

You look down at your hands. They’re shaking, just a little.

“You think this heist is going to erase that?” you ask, softer now.

“No,” she says. “But maybe it can be the start of making things right.”

A long beat of silence stretches between you.

And finally, finally, you whisper, “You still have a habit of making everything complicated.”

Her lips twitch. “Yeah, but you liked that about me.”

You don’t smile, but you don’t walk away either. You stand, take a step closer.

Her breath hitches.

“Just… don’t break my heart twice,” you say, quietly.

Melissa nods once. “I won’t. Not this time.”

And for the first time since this whole mess started, you both stop pretending the job is the only thing at stake.

You’ve never worn a dress this expensive.

Or this revealing.

Or this dangerous.

The silk clings like it knows all your secrets. One wrong step and your thigh holster will flash like a neon sign, and then it’s all over. But that’s not what has your hands shaking.

It’s her.

Melissa Schemmenti walks into the Franklin Institute gala like she owns the building, like it was built around her. She’s in a deep emerald suit that should be illegal, the jacket tailored so close it might as well be stitched to her spine. The red lipstick is new—braver than she used to be. But it’s the smirk that hits hardest.

She sees you. And for a moment, the whole room falls away.

“Jesus,” she mutters when she gets closer. “You look like sin in that dress.”

“Fitting,” you say with a faint smile. “We’re about to rob a man blind.”

She offers her arm. “Shall we?”

You take it. God help you, you take it.

Inside, the gala is a mess of bad lighting and expensive perfume. The kind of place where people say “philanthropy” but mean “money laundering.” Ava’s already working the crowd in a sparkling red jumpsuit, dragging attention like a magnet with legs. She’s halfway through a champagne flute and mid-laugh with the mayor.

Barbara is tucked into a quiet corner near the AV booth, earpiece in, muttering coordinates like a CIA agent moonlighting as a Sunday school teacher. Gregory’s posing as security, face like granite, hands on a clipboard. Jacob is, god bless him, crying in a supply closet out of sheer joy and nerves.

You’re all exactly where you need to be.

“Target approaching,” Barbara says over comms. ���Cranston incoming. Three o’clock.”

Melissa squeezes your hand.

You shift.

And just like that, it begins.

You slip away while Ava starts her scene. You don’t even know what it is… there’s screaming, a fake proposal, possibly a flash mob. You’ll ask later. Right now you’re moving fast down a hallway, Melissa shadowing you in practiced silence.

The door to Cranston’s private suite clicks open with a code Jacob swiped from a security badge two weeks ago. Inside, it’s absurd marble, liquor, leather chairs no one’s meant to sit in.

The safe is real. And locked.

You’re halfway through cracking it when Melissa speaks.

“You were always the smartest person in the room.”

You blink at her. “Now’s not the time.”

“I know,” she says. “But if I wait until it is, I’ll never say it.”

Click. The safe opens.

Inside was hard drives. Envelopes thick with cash. A folder labeled Trust Fund Allocation – Revised.

You bag everything. Fast. Efficient.

But Melissa doesn’t move.

“You’re stalling,” you say, quiet.

She steps closer. “I want to kiss you.”

You freeze.

“Not because I’m trying to distract you,” she adds. “And not because it’s convenient. I want to kiss you because five years ago I was too much of a coward to do it when it mattered. And now we’re standing in the middle of a goddamn felony, and all I can think about is your mouth.”

You stare at her. She’s waiting.

And maybe it’s the adrenaline.

Maybe it’s the years.

Maybe it’s just her.

You drop the bag and kiss her. Hard.

Like the last five years never happened. Like the world doesn’t end in twenty minutes. Like you never stopped.

She kisses you back like she regrets everything.

It lasts maybe ten seconds. Maybe an eternity.

Then the comm crackles: “Guests are moving toward the east wing! You have sixty seconds!”

You break apart, breathless. Wide-eyed.

Melissa grins, all teeth. “We really need to do crime more often.”

You grab the bag. “Let’s get out of here before I commit a second felony. This time for assaulting your mouth in public.”

She laughs as you run.

And God, you hope she keeps laughing.

The gala is chaos.

Jacob’s voice is high-pitched over comms—“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”, and you can hear Ava shouting “Don’t touch me, I am the fire code violation!” from somewhere behind you. Gregory’s giving cool, clipped updates, but even he sounds tight.

You and Melissa are sprinting.

Your heels click against the marble as you race through the hallway, bag of stolen evidence clutched to your chest. You round a corner just in time to hear Melissa bark, “Left now!” and shove open a utility door.

It slams shut behind you, cutting off the roar of the crowd.

Inside, it’s dim. A narrow maintenance corridor. You’re both breathing hard, the kind of breath that drags heat through your lungs like fire.

“We’re not going to make it to the car,” Melissa says between gasps.

“No,” you agree. “But we can get to the archives exit. East side. Leads to the loading dock.”

“Then let’s move.”

You both start running again, only this time, you can feel it. Someone’s on your tail. Security. Maybe a camera caught too much. Maybe Jacob tripped an alarm. Maybe it’s just bad luck. But the danger is real and closing in.

You slide to a stop outside the archive room.

And that’s when everything goes sideways.

The door won’t budge.

“Locked,” you hiss. “Cranston must’ve had it sealed after his little embezzlement parties.”

Melissa pulls out a pin from her hair, of course she’s wearing one sharp enough to pick a lock, and gets to work.

You press your back to the wall, watching the hallway.

Boots.

Shouts.

“Melissa—”

“I got it.”

She does. The door clicks open, and you both dive inside, just as a flashlight beam sweeps past.

Inside, it’s dark. Rows of dusty boxes. Echoes of time.

You crouch low behind one, chest heaving, Melissa right next to you. The bag of evidence is wedged between your legs. Her hand brushes yours in the dark.

You grab it and don’t let go.

For a minute, there’s only your breathing. The adrenaline still in your throat. Your heart, beating out of rhythm.

“I thought this part would feel better,” you whisper. “Like a clean win.”

Melissa turns to you. You can’t see much, just the outline of her jaw in the faint emergency light.

“Doesn’t feel clean,” she agrees.

You look at her. Really look. “Why’d you really bring me in?”

She hesitates.

Then she says, “Because I wanted you to see that I wasn’t that woman anymore. That I could be better. Be worth the risk.”

Your throat tightens. “I didn’t need proof. I just needed you.”

She leans in. No drama. No tension. Just soft lips and a quiet kiss that feels like a truce.

She pulls back, resting her forehead against yours. “If we get out of this…”

“We will,” you say, firm.

“Then I’m going to ask you to stay. This time for real.”

You nod.

Outside, the guards’ voices fade.

Barbara’s voice crackles to life in your earpiece, “East exit’s clear. Go. Now.”

You and Melissa stand.

Still holding hands.

Still choosing each other.

Even now.

Three days after the gala, Cranston’s career goes up in flames.

It starts small, a headline buried beneath a city council squabble: “Anonymous Tip Alleges Embezzlement at Franklin Institute Fundraiser.”

Then the leak hits Facebook.

Then the drive hits the press.

Then the FBI shows up at his door.

By noon, he’s on administrative leave. By dinnertime, the news runs footage of him being escorted out of his luxury condo, blinking in the sunlight like a man who never thought he’d lose.

You, meanwhile, are sitting on Melissa’s couch with her legs across your lap, a glass of wine in your hand, and an entire soft pretzel from Wawa in hers.

“I can’t believe you made Jacob the anonymous source,” you say, trying not to laugh.

“Who’s gonna question that face?” Melissa shrugs. “He looks like a distressed Muppet. The feds loved him.”

“He’s going to frame his subpoena.”

“Let him. He earned it.”

You smile. You’re quiet for a beat.

And then you say, “You did it.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Just leans back against the couch and chews thoughtfully.

“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” she admits.

“Like what?”

“Like… closure. I thought I’d want fireworks. A parade. Maybe a little public humiliation. But it’s not about him anymore.”

You look at her. She looks at you.

“It’s about you,” she says softly. “It always was.”

Your heart aches.

Not in the sharp, unbearable way it did five years ago when she left.

No, this ache is warm. Healing. The kind that comes from the slow realization that maybe, just maybe, this broken thing between you has finally been put back together.

“You could’ve called,” you say gently. “Years ago.”

“I didn’t know what I’d say.”

“And now?”

She turns, fully facing you. Her hand curls against your thigh. “Now I know I want to build something. Not just clean up messes. Not just run.”

You blink.

“Are you saying you’re ready for a future that doesn’t involve handcuffs and burner phones?”

She smirks. “I didn’t say I was going boring. Just… maybe a little more rooted. A little more honest.”

You set your wine down.

Then you lean in.

Then you kiss her slow and deep and certain, like the kind of kiss that says we’re not done, we’re just getting started.

She pulls back, eyes warm.

“You staying?” she asks, a little shy.

You nod. “I’m home.”

And for the first time in years, it’s true.

[voidreynolds]

matching tattoos |thunderbolts au

summary: thunderbolts au, where you try to convince the team to go get matching(??) tattoos. (we’ll pretend everyone would be up for the idea) shockingly, there was no alcohol involved in the idea. and more shockingly, most of the team agrees.

warnings: sort of a mention of self harm (it is not shown), needles (it’s a tattoo parlor) multiple pov kinda ?? lovable idiots… could be romantic relationships if you squint or are desperate, but mostly platonic/friend/family dynamics. obviously not cannon. ava wears glasses? reader gets motion sickness in cars… bob being adorable, traumatized bob :( bucky being a grumpy old man babysitter <3 a ‘Friends’ reference is made

Yelena stared at you with a slight smirk, “And you think you can get everyone to agree to this?” You shrugged with an innocent smile, “I know I can get most of them…” Yelena scoffed, “Ava will think it’s hilarious but probably not agree to it. Alexei will one hundred percent agree and think it’s amazing that he’s included. Bucky and John will not take any part in it, except to laugh at our pain. Bob might agree, but you’ll need to pack snacks.” You smiled to yourself, agreeing silently. She was spot on, unfortunately. You had wanted matching tattoos, but you knew no one else would agree to it. “Ava!” Yelena disappeared around the corner, pounding on the walls obnoxiously to get everyone’s attention. Walker’s door opened first, it crashed open, John already muttering angrily. “What?” Bucky was in a near equal irritable mood, but he looked around to make sure everyone was alright. Ava phased through her door, trashy gossip magazine still in her hand. She was wearing her glasses, squinting slightly against the full windowed room, “Did someone call me?”

“We’re going to go get tattoos.”

Bucky snorted, “Absolutely not.”

John just stared at her, blinking once, “Who is we?” “Cool.” Ava phased back through her door and returned without the magazine, hair now less messy, “Could always use more pain…” Bucky bit back a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, fine… Why not? I have nothing else to do today.” Bucky squinted at him, rolling his eyes slightly. Yelena’s lip twitched slightly, “Exactly.” You had returned with Bob, who held an armful of snacks against him. He was grinning widely and John wasn’t completely sure he knew what he sighed up for. “Alright!” Alexei had arrived, clapping his hands together once, “Are we ready to go? I will drive!”

“No.” Collective protests sounded throughout the room. “I’ll drive you idiots. And Bob.” Bucky grabbed the keys from a slightly less grinning Alexei. Unfortunately, the only thing that fit all of you was the limo. Bucky swore to himself after the third attempt to start the ignition. “She’s just old- She needs time to warm up.” Alexei had leaned forward from the back, nearly squishing Yelena and Ava. “It’s a piece of garbage, Alexei! That’s what it is.” Bucky made an amused expression, but he wasn’t going to agree out loud. “It’s not…garbage. She is good transportation!” Bucky rolled his eyes, looking over to you with an exasperated look. You smirked slightly, used to the stupid arguments but always finding them entertaining. “Why don’t I sit in front and give pointers?” The damn car finally started and Bucky exhaled, “No.” Alexei grunted, finally leaning back into his seat roughly, “Why does she always het front seat? I am sensing favoriteness!” Bob looked up from his bag of gummy sharks at the same time Bucky sent a glare through the rear view mirror. They both spoke at the same time. “She gets car sick.”

Yelena and Ava let out coughs to hide their laughter. You just shook your head, holding back your own amusement at Bucky’s irritated expression. The car lurched slightly- not from a pothole, just from the usual roughness of the limo’s ride. You groaned slightly, reaching up to hold the handle above you. You felt a tap on your shoulder as a bag of gummy sharks passed over your shoulder. Bob was smiling reassuringly, trying to distract you from the bumpy ride.

“Alright kids, we’re here.” John was the first one out, holding the door open for everyone else with a sarcastic salute. The girl at the front desk looked like she may faint when the group walked in. “Hi-“ she wheezed out, clearly knowing who they were. “Welcome in-“ Bob smiled widely, “Thank you!” Walker looked at Bucky, clearly thrilled to be recognized. The girl was eyeing Bucky up and down. Bucky just sighed deeply, shifting his eyes to you, “I told you this was a bad idea.” You just waved your hand and approached the desk, “Hi, do you have room for um…” -You looked at Bucky and he shook his head with a glare- “Six walk-ins…” The girl still looked like she was going to pass out, but she nodded eagerly. Bucky looked around the room and crossed his arms.

“You can all come with me.” She kept her eyes on Bucky as she led them back- so much so that she tripped on a chair and nearly fell over. Bucky gave her a look, not quite pity, but not quite friendly, “I’m a hundred and eight.” You and Bob bit back laughs as she blushed and turned away from Bucky to look where she was going. John, Alexei and Ava say down first. Bob nudged you with his foot, trying to hold back a grin. Bucky was looking at something on his phone when he felt it. Bob held out his hand, revealing a handful of stickers. Bucky’s eyes snapped down to his metal arm, where you and Bob were placing said stickers along it. Bucky took his eyes off his arm and looked to the two of you. He blinked once, looked back down to his arm, looked back to the two of you. Bucky closed his eyes, rubbing his nose slightly. It was his not mad, just disappointed face. Bob and you were laughing now, while Bucky just stared blankly, “Sure, why not… At least they aren’t permanent.” Bob stuck the last two on and Bucky turned to look at him with a neutral expression, “Cute.” It was sarcastic, but you swore you saw the tiniest smirk on his lips. There was a tiny black lightning bolt, and bubble letter stickers that read: smile, you’ll live longer.

Ava stood up first, a knowing smirk on her lips. “What’d ya’ get?” Yelena leaned over eagerly. Ava smirked smugly as she showed it off. Bob leaned in closer, “Um..What- What is it?” Yelena looked at Ava with a scolding expression, “It’s a dot, Bob.” She drawled. “Oh!” Bob looked at it again and smiled encouragingly, “It’s nice!” Ava scoffed, “It’s not a dot, Yelena. It is a view of the earth from a great, great distance.” Bucky had stopped glaring- admiring his stickers and looked over your shoulder, “It’s a dot.” He nodded once, pressing his lips together in his disappointed face. “It’s not-“ Ava sighed in exasperation, shaking her head. Bob held a hand up shyly, “I like your earth, Ava.” Your mouth twitched up into a smile, loving how Bob was always so supportive- even if it was B.S… John joined them next, already scratching at it slightly. “Don’t do that.” Yelena smacked him harder than necessary, “What did you get?” None of you could really imagine John Walker with a tattoo to begin with. But when he lifted his sleeve, the group snorted with laughter. Even Bucky had smirked and failed at hiding it.

It was the damn taco shield.

“Yeah well.” John waved his arm dramatically, likely trying to shoo away the laughter directed at him, “Now it can live on forever…” Bob had flushed slightly, “Again, I’m really sorry about that…” Bucky shook his head, returning his attention to his phone; the amusement on his face still evident. Alexei was beaming when he stood up. Yelena looked horrified already, eyes slightly shielded from him. “It is GOOD car.” He held out the inside of his forearm, now covered by his limo. Bucky covered his face again, likely about to leave them all here, “Oh god you’re all idiots.” He muttered to himself, shaking his head.

The artists finished wiping down everything and called for the next group. Yelena cut her artist off, holding up her phone, “I want this.” She pointed to her collarbone, “Here.” The artist raised his eyebrows slightly, “Are you sure about the placem-“ Yelena sat down, “Positive.” You sat down anxiously- realizing now, when you were in the chair, you had no idea what you wanted. Your thinking was quickly cut off by Bob sitting beside you. He was getting one too? It surprised you for some reason, since he was always so nervous and unsure about a lot of things. But given his past, this was unfortunately, probably nothing to him. And likely now, with the Sentry powers, he wouldn’t even feel it. “How will the ink stick if you’re bulletproof?” Bob looked at you with a meek expression, shrugging slightly. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to you, “I can control it.. Kinda? If I…” He sighed, “If I want to feel pain I can.” Your heart dropped right through your stomach and suddenly you felt more nauseous now than you had in the car. Bob squeezed your hand, brows now furrowed in concern, “I’m fine.” He knew you would start spiraling worrying about his..tendency for a dark head space, “This is fun.” You eyed him again, not even realizing your artist was waiting for you to acknowledge her- and decide what you wanted.

Yelena looked over at you in concern, making sure everything was okay. Bob and you both gave her a cheesy smile and a thumbs up. Now she was even more suspicious. Your artist was glaring now and you jumped slightly, “Sorry…” She raised an eyebrow, clearly wishing you hadn’t been a walk in. “Just… I’ll get this.” You held up your phone and the artist nodded. It was what you had planned, even if you would look stupid with it by yourself. Yelena and Bob’s artists returned with the printed stencils. “Hey, I’ll get that too.” Yelena smiled at you slightly, knowing this had been your very hopeful and unlikely plan. “Same.” Bob leaned forward with a nod. You were beaming now, ignoring the very annoyed artists that had gone to print more stencils.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun had made your heart rate jump. Bob sensed your anxiety, likely because you looked sick, and grabbed your hand. You winced as the needle touched your skin. You had clearly braced yourself for much worse. It reminded you of when Yelena’s guinea pig bit you, and it was over within seconds. Bob still held your hand. His head was tilted back, eyes closed. You worried he was spiraling. Had the pain maybe been worse for him? Had he been triggered?

Oh god, he was asleep.

Your heart sank again, realizing the pain had comforted him. The nausea came back as you were reminded of how much he had been through and how much you still didn’t know. Yelena looked at you, eyes wide, horrified. You squeezed Bob’s hand as he slept on. The needle continued to buzz, the artist trying to hide his concern about the grown man asleep in his chair while getting tattooed. You were done, and your artist looked impatient for you to get up, but you couldn’t make yourself let go of Bob’s hand. “Done!” Yelena pulled her shirt down slightly, laughing giddily. The lightning bolt was on the side of her wrist. And just under her collarbone sat an outline of her guinea pig. She was grinning as she showed the others. Bucky rolled his eyes again, but he was smiling slightly. You held up your own arm to show Bucky the twin to Yelena’s wrist. He nodded, looking less irritated at each person. “Um, he’s done..?” Bob’s artist had finished, clearly looking to you for help now. The tattoo gun shut off and Bob startled awake. You stood to your feet, bending first, to admire his other tattoo. Your mouth split into a stupid grin.

“What did he even get?” John and Yelena crossed the room, not bothered by the artist’s glances at them for being in the way while he tried to clean up. “A shark?” John looked at you for an explanation. “Look closer.” Yelena smirked up at him. “A blue shark?” You helped Bob to his feet. He still looked half asleep, holding your hand again for emotional support. His, or your’s, you weren’t positive. “Did I fall asleep?” Bob looked around, remembering where he was. “Sorry…” He muttered it to his artist as he trailed behind you to join the others, that had been kicked back to front waiting area. John was still trying to decipher Bob’s tattoo, turning his head at an odd angle as you walked. “It’s a gummy shark, John.” You rolled your eyes, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. “Oh, sure… My mistake.” Now John was looking at you like you were the problem. Bucky was talking to the receptionist again, still looking grumpy as he handed her his card. “Why are you paying?” John took his attention off you to start arguing with Bucky. “You were the only one who didn’t get anything, why are you paying?” Bucky tucked his card back into his pocket and shrugged, “I have a lightning bolt sticker, don’t I?” You snorted, John rolled his eyes and Yelena and Bob looked at him with stupid smiles. “Maybe my dot is the cloud that produced the lightning!” Bucky scoffed at this as he pulled the keys out again. “Don’t push it, Ava. You got a dot.” John held the door open for everyone and Bucky was smirking as he opened the driver’s side door, “Team building exercise successful.” The limo filled with groans as the realization settled in. As far as Bucky’s mandated, boring, usually excruciating team building exercises went, this time you couldn’t complain.

[zkylearnstherope]

The poll still isn't done yet, but there are people who voted so- here ya go.

Features The Chosen One and ALL's Director.

Co-written with @lanxagethefossil. I write the parts, Lanxage makes the art in return. Think of it as a continuous art trade. It initially started as a teaser/meme but Lanxage made art for it, so yeah.

---

Pretender [Part 1]

Choose your fate.

The Chosen One looks down at the desk. The only light bulb barely illuminating the cards on top. Three cards, three options. The Director wants him to play a game.

Don't pick anything and I will let the voices decide. You hear them don't you? Justice calls for ashen blood, and there's only so much protection that this Box can provide.

The light flickers and a chair appears. The Director walks towards it.

We can only hold them for long, so why not give the crowd the show they've long to see?

Accepting his fate, The Chosen One gestures to the middle card, and with that signature smile of his, he accepted the challenge. "Let the games begin."

Part 2

[cardhamine]

in the spirit of talking about our interests without feeling guilty, I will drop one fun fact about Breached which is that I have written nearly 20k words of a college AU ... rant in notes

*said like a sinner in a confessional and anyone reading this is the unwitting priest*

[thecousinsdangereux]

i just recently discovered your soulmate au and i loves it so much. so incredibly intriguing and well written and damn is it hot 🔥 thanks so much for sharing with us. in your mind, does it have a happy ending for them?

also wanted to ask if you'll be checking in to see the big warrior nun announcement coming tomorrow?

Ahhhh thank you! This ask is kind of tragic now given how everything with Warrior Nun ended up going, but I thought I'd use it as a way to share my ideas for the rest of a beggar in the morning, if anyone is interested in learning how it was going to go. Long story short, it was going to have a happy ending. :)

Here's a full outline for what I had in mind for the second half of the fic. Under the cut because it's very detailed in the parts that I'd started writing. Also in case anyone cares about spoilers? At the moment, I don't plan on finishing this fic, but I do plan on returning to writing in general, so guess there's a non-zero chance that I could come back to it. Stranger things have happened.

Beatrice keeps looking for the recipient of the Letter she's been trying to deliver and starts taking trips out into the countryside. She takes Ava's advice and takes to enjoying the journey - stopping into small cafes for lunch rather than eating in the car, taking the long way when it means she can enjoy a new view, etc.

During one of these side quests, she's told about a man who lives way off in the middle of nowhere who has the last name of Reis (the last name of the Letter recipient: Lara Reis), and she tracks him down. He had a sister who had a child with someone who was not her Match. I wanted to go more into what this looks like (and how the church is still anti-abortion in this world, because they think this could potentially ruin a future match, cue eye-roll) but in this case, the woman was basically run out of town. The man directs Beatrice to an orphanage where the child was raised.

This trail eventually goes cold because the orphanage has no records of the girl. They only know she left when she became of age.

The end of chapter six is basically Beatrice being frustrated and taking some 'advice' from Lilith to find someone to fuck hfkjshlk so she goes to the bar and ohhh nooo Ava is working that night, filling in for someone. Ava gets jealous, Bea does some shots, and it's basically a rehash of the lemon drop scene from the show, but hornier. Eventually, they make out, and decide to be friends with benefits.

Chapter 7 was honestly just going to be porn. lol. It's actually some of the first stuff I wrote for this fic - just a page of porn. Beggar came out of a Secret Santa fic exchange, and my friend Alex asked for lots of sex and a soulmate au. So... Chapter 7 was the payoff (part 2). Here's a few disjointed scenes, in case anyone is interested in reading some unedited very E-rated stuff.

A few months go by and all the nuns visit Beatrice for her bday and they're like huh so what's going on here and Beatrice has to pretend that it's not that serious with Ava (lol). I also wanted to do a conversation between Shannon and Beatrice where Shannon talks about the whole Mary thing and loving someone against the will of god (or at the very least, in the very gray areas).

The end of chapter seven is Ava finally talking about her past, which is that Ava doesn't remember hers. She woke up in a hospital without her memories and then spent the next decade traveling around trying to find something that felt like home.

In chapter 8, a lot of time passes, and the fucking continues. Beatrice is kind of losing it, poor girl.

I hadn't exactly decided what was going to happen next, but Ava was going to overstep in some way (or in some perceived way) and Beatrice was going to panic. Either Beatrice was going to have a brief thought about being in love, they were going to have reallyyyy soft sex, or something like that, but either way, Beatrice was going to have to admit she has deeper feelings for Ava than what's allowed allowed, so she goes back to Spain and ignores Ava's texts/calls/etc.

Eventually she realizes she owes Ava closure. She comes back and kind of explains why she's reacted the way she has. She gets more into why she joined the church and it's not for God or the Church itself, but because she does genuinely believe that love itself is holy. She admits she's falling in love with Ava, but she can't break her vows. She believes giving into her feelings would be putting herself above the whole history of love... the sanctity of the entire universe... and to be that selfish would be monstrous.

There's a callback to their early game of three questions, and how Ava still owes Beatrice one answer. Beatrice nearly asks if Ava loves her, but pulls back because she's scared of the answer. They basically break up, but Ava tells Bea to let her know when she's ready to ask her last question.

Beatrice takes it HARD. She buries herself in her work and starts visiting hospitals in various towns. She finds a Spanish doctor and he recognizes the number (or rather, the system behind the number) that is on Letter Beatrice is still trying to deliver. He tells Beatrice she's not looking for a hospital in Portugal, but rather in Spain - one in a small town in Andalusia. He mentions a patient who was in a coma, who woke up without her memories.

At this point, Beatrice obviously knows and she flies to Spain in daze. She visits the hospital, gives them the number, and asks for the name of the patient. When they'd brought the girl in, no one knew where she came from, she didn't have an ID, memories, etc. Nothing except for an old receipt from a restaurant in Portugal. ("Beatrice braces herself for what she already knows, but doesn't want to face.") The nurse at the hospital tells her they used a generic Portuguese name for the girl and it stuck: Ava Silva.

Beatrice visits Cat's Cradle because what else is she supposed to do? How is she supposed to deliver this Letter to Ava, who she's obviously in love with. She talks with Mary and we get the other side of the whole Mary/Shannon thing, and Mary is kind of like, okay, the Letters matter but they don't Matter. Beatrice asks Mary what she would do if she got a Letter (since Mary isn't a nun and could get one, but Shannon never could) and Mary basically says she would throw it away without opening it because she wouldn't want to give Shannon a reason to go self-sacrificial.

Of course, Beatrice doesn't really think this is her call to make. She's going to deliver Ava's Letter. There's this whole scene of her very dramatically and angstily getting ready for the delivery in the Official White Habit, then walking through the town she's come to associate so completely with Ava. And chapter 9 ends.

When Beatrice walks through the doors of the bar, Ava looks up, but doesn't seem surprised, even says 'oh, finally', which is pretty much the last thing that Beatrice expected, but then again, maybe it should have been the first, because Ava is always surprising her, and shouldn't she expect it by now? She asks Ava if she'd known that she was the person Beatrice had been trying to deliver to all along and Ava looks confused at this, like she hadn't considered that at all. "It's not that. I just knew my Letter would be coming because I'd already met you."

Beatrice is like, no no no. That's not how this works. It can't be me. I've been carrying this Letter with me this whole time - before I met you - and the Letters are only sent to a person when they've met their soulmate. And obviously, Beatrice is a nun and can't have a soulmate, etc. etc.

And then Ava says something like this: “Maybe every once in a while, God -- or the universe or whatever it is -- knows that it’ll be really hard to make two people meet organically, so it fudges the rules a little bit. Makes one girl a nun, makes another one hard to find, and sets up the dominos really early on."

And when Beatrice says she's being ridiculous/it's impossible, she says, "I know what’s in that letter. It’s you. I don’t need to open it to know it's you." and "Maybe it’s like some people say and god arranged it all. Fine. Then god chose me for you. Simple. He made me in this exact way, down to my hands and toes and whatever, so that I was perfect for his favorite creation in all of the universe. Because that has to be you."

And: "Or maybe it’s like what those other people say. You know - the past lives reincarnation stuff. Fine, then in our first lives we fell in love and then I found you in the second and third and the five hundredth. I found you and I picked you and I wanted you every time. Or okay, fine, maybe it’s what the the pseudo science people say. Even if those guys are right, I still know. It’s you because at the very start of the universe - at the very beginning of everything - we were the first two bits of something. The first two tiny little sparks. One of those was you and one of them was me. And even when we split off into a million trillion billion infinite pieces, the core of one was you. And the other one was me."

And: "In every religion or in any theory, the world exists so that I can find you again, and the world will do whatever it takes - bend the rules in whatever way - to make sure that at the exact right time, we would meet. And maybe it wasn’t perfect - maybe it was stupid hard for us to get to this point - maybe there was an easier way to make it happen - but I don’t care. Because it worked and I found you and I fell in love with you and I would do anything for that. So yeah. This Letter is telling me that I’m for you. That’s easy. It’s not faith. It’s just a fact.

And: "Besides, whatever’s on that paper? It’s going to be you. If it’s a picture of a butterfly, then it’s going to be you because of that time we went to the dam and one landed on your hand and you said “isn’t the world beautiful?” and that’s when I knew I loved you for the very first time. If it’s the notes to the first bar in At Last, then it’s you, because we used to play it all the time in the bar and I always thought it was fucking stupid to think you'd know like that right away, before everything, but it was the song that played in my head anyways when you walked in the bar that first night. There she is, I sort of thought, a dream that I can speak to."

"It could be any single word or phrase or letter and it would be you, because I love you and I love you so much I see you in every part of this entire world. I love you and I want to keep you with me always, and so you’re always there in my thoughts, slipping over and into everything else and I love it. It makes me love everything I see a little bit more, because it reminds me of you. It makes the world more beautiful."

"So, no offense, but I don't really give a fuck about the Letter. I already know it's going to be you. But I think you need to see it. So you know you’re not as selfish as you think you are."

And Beatrice admits that she wants to be with Ava anyways. Even if it makes her selfish. (Even if it makes her heretical.) Love is holy and what she feels for Ava is holy too, even if it's a sort of holy no one else will ever understand.

I went back and forth about whether they actually SHOULD open the Letter. lol. But I think I eventually settled on that they should, and that when Ava does open it, it's a blank page with like, 7 little dots and Beatrice is like??????????????? But Ava recognizes it instantly and it's the freckles on Beatrice's cheeks, the ones she's always tracing, and she does that again, following the ink on the paper.

Beatrice had been ready to give up her religion for Ava, so getting to keep it, maybe, suddenly is a LOT. She can't quite believe something divine would do something like this for her. But maybe she can believe that something divine would do something like this for Ava.

Later, I wanted Beatrice to have a conversation with Mother Superion. I thought it would be interesting to get into the philosophical bits of it. To debate if Ava could actually be right in her ideas about how this could be, and still fit into what they know about god/Letters/religion. I liked the idea of the conversation ending with neither of them really knowing, and Mother S being like, look girl, you'll never know for sure, but that sounds like faith to me. And Beatrice says no, no this is different, capital F Faith is for the divine. This is just trusting that Ava isn't lying about the freckles thing, or won't get tired of me, or won't find someone else. Etc etc etc. because it's panicking time for Beatrice, suddenly. And Mother Superion just raps her knuckles sort of in the most gentle way she can manage and says "That's love, Beatrice." in the way way someone might say "That's pussy, babe."

Beatrice does leave the church (though she eventually goes back to 'consulting' kind of like Mary). And when she does actually physically leave as well, Ava is waiting outside on a bench. Beatrice asks why she didn't just come inside, and she says something about being a little afraid of churches these days. She did steal god's favorite, after all.

And then they walk off into the sunset, with Beatrice being like wait a second, I thought you said this was all God's plan. And Ava shrugs and says that she would never willingly give Beatrice up, so god might come to her senses and change her mind.

I was going to end it there, but I did consider doing an epilogue as well. Early on in planning I had this idea where, years later, all the nuns regularly come over to the Silvas (because Ava does keep her 'second' name, though she does start to learn more about the Reis family, and meets her Uncle - the dude Beatrice learned about the orphanage from). And on one of these occasions, the nuns are all in white, and they're delivering Beatrice's Letter, which is addressed to Beatrice Silva. In the end, I decided against this, because I liked leaving it more open-ended, but nothing had been set in stone at this point, of course.

So yeah, that was going to be a beggar in the morning. lol. I plotted most of it out before I even started writing, because it wasn't the sort of story you could make up as you went and still tell it well. And I did want to tell the story well! There's a part of me that's sad that I wasn't able to, but I do think it was worth writing what I did. I really loved seeing people realize that Lara was Ava, even as early as chapter 5! And I also loved people coming up with theories about how Avatrice would be endgame. Some of them were honestly really good and maybe better than mine fhdskjhfd I had one person be like PLEASE let Ava's Letter be for someone else so they can metaphorically spit in god's face and honestly that was valid.

I don't know if anyone is going to bother to read this very, very long reply to an ask that doesn't actually ask for any of this, but it honestly just feels nice to put all these ideas together and 'complete' the story. Even if I've done it in the most half-assed way possible I am so sorry fhadskjlfhldsj

[cod-dump]

ITS ME IM BACK TO GIVE YOU MORE TEEN GHOST

When Simon and Johnny FINALLY start dating Johnny’s dad invites them over for a bbq

Price and Johnny’s dad (I’ll give this man a name because I don’t want to keep calling him “Johnny’s dad” so I’ll just call him Noah)

So Price and Noah become friends and I mean really great friends but Nikolai doesn’t like this and thinks that Noah is trying to steal his man so he keeps giving death glares and Ava (Johnny’s mother) sees this and is like “absolutely fucking not” and so she confronts Nikolai and she’s like “you got a problem with my husband?” And she does NOT play and Nikolai isn’t going to let himself get disrespected by this 40 year old woman that’s 5’2 so he starts talking back and the it just turns into an argument

And price and Noah are the ones to break it up and Simon, Kyle, and even Farah are all hiding inside and are dying of embarrassment

Later Ava and Nikolai make up and then actually kinda become friends but they still hate each other a little so they’re frenemies

Johnny was also hiding inside with Simon but his sisters were outside cheering their mom on

(P.S at some point during the argument Ava started yelling at Nikolai in Gaelic and so Nikolai also started yelling but in Russian.)

-🫠



My names for Soap’s parents are Isaiah and Muriel but I like those!

___

A MacTavish Party (teen!Ghost au)

(warning: A lot of silliness ahead. I mean, I was really trying to see how silly I could get it. Just really trying)

(Also, random facts at the end to clarify somethings)

---

It was like the MacTavish family leapt into celebration when Simon and Johnny finally started dating.

Simon thought his dad sitting him down and giving him a more adult version of 'The Talk' was embarrassing, but Johnny's family was literally throwing a barbeque to celebrate. Johnny was on speaker phone with Simon and Kyle when his sisters had busted into his room and started singing a made-up song to congratulate Johnny on finally asking out his crush. 'Pussy No More' was the name they gave it.

It was the funniest thing Simon ever had the pleasure of hearing, and hearing Johnny die of embarrassment before hanging up so Simon and Kyle couldn't hear anymore just made it better. Clearly Johnny had the more embarrassing family and that made Simon feel at ease for some reason. Maybe because he didn't have to worry about his family doing something to make him want to bury himself alive.

The entire Price household was invited and Simon was told he could bring anyone else if he wanted. So, of course, Simon called Ale and asked him and Rudy to come along... and asked Alex to come (and totally not so he can watch him and Kyle squirm while in the presence of their father and Nik). Simon knew Johnny asked Hong-Jin and his sisters to have their boyfriends to be there so it wasn't like there weren't plenty going on to distract John from the clear weirdness between Alex and Kyle.

"I fucking hate you," Kyle muttered as they walked across the street to Johnny's house, Alex hanging way back behind everyone as if he was scared if he got too close that John would just know.

"Hate me all you want, doesn't change the fact that we're brothers and that you're stuck with me."

Kyle's glare hardens and Simon pretends he doesn't see it, John already at the door and ready to knock when it swung open and Johnny's family grabbed his arm and practically threw him inside. Simon saw Johnny further in the house, looking like he was arguing with his eldest sister, Eve.

"Come in, come in! Simon!"

Isaiah was a friendly man, but it felt like that friendliness increased tenfold the moment Johnny and him started officially dating. Simon was relieved that Isaiah liked him and hasn't been aggressive about Simon dating his son. It made him wonder if Johnny or anyone else had a word with Isaiah beforehand.

Simon was pulled into a hug and Simon could hear Johnny whining in the background, "Pa, please!"

Isaiah releases Simon and turns to look at his son, "I finally have another son and I'm not allowed to hug him!?"

Simon did take pride in the fact, out of all Johnny and his sisters' partners, he was the only one Isaiah liked enough to call his 'son'. That did put Simon in a tricky position with the boyfriends of Eve and Carol, both seemed desperate for Isaiah's approval. And here Simon was, getting hugged and having a party thrown over the fact he was (finally) dating Johnny.

John cleared his throat and offered up the casserole dish he carried over, "I know you said not to bring anything but-"

"Hey, I'm not going to complain. I know for a fact you are one hell of a cook! You could compare to my wife!"

Johnny grabs Simon's attention by taking his hand, Eve making 'oohing' noises when he did. He casted a quick glare at her before dragging Simon off through the house to the back garden. Kyle followed, then Farah, and then Alex.

"I'm so sorry about my dad... and my sister... and I'm just gonna go ahead and apologize for whatever the rest of my family do."

"It's like they're throwing a baby shower, welcoming a new kid into the family," mused Farah as they walked into the thankfully MacTavish (other than Johnny) vacant space.

"You would think! Pa yelled 'I have another son' after I told him about Simon and Eve's boyfriend almost started crying."

Simon wanted to feel bad for Jay considering him and Eve had been dating for a solid two years now, but the guy stole Simon's lunch that Johnny's gran packed for him and he hasn't forgiven him for that. It was her famous lamb stew, so no, he's not being petty! Johnny had a couple foldable tables set up near the back corner of the garden near the fence. There was enough space for Simon and his tagalongs and Johnny and Hong-Jin.

"Wait, where's Hong-Jin?" Kyle asked as he put his book down on the chair he had chosen.

"He's coming in a bit. What about Ale and Rudy?"

"Ale is working an extra shift at his aunt's shop and Rudy is... Actually, I have no idea what Rudy does when he's not with Ale."

"... Is he a hitman?"

Simon snorts out a surprised laugh at Alex's quiet question. Farah just rubbed her forehead, clearly trying to hide the fact she wanted to laugh at the sincere question.

Kyle groaned at his boyfriend's seriousness, "Alex-"

"JOHNNY!"

Everyone flinched at the unmistakable voice of Hong-Jin from the other side of the fence. The fence shakes as Hong-Jin suddenly pops up on the other side of the nearly seven foot privacy, climbing over. He clearly met to drop down once he was on the other side of the fence, but his shirt got caught when he let go, causing him to flip over before the fabric ripped and crash to the ground. Everyone just stared in silence, Johnny looking fed up with Hong-Jin as the boy laid there without moving, clearly just defeated by his failed attempt at being cool.

And, of course, Johnny's mother had stepped outside with a tablecloth to put on one of the tables when this occurred. And her reaction would suggest this wasn't the first time she's witnessed something like this.

"Honey! You could've just used the side gate!" Muriel called, not even a bit worried about the boy as he finally got off the ground.

"Fence was quicker," Hong-Jin squawked out, the air knocked out of his lungs and his words not carrying like they normally do.

Hong-Jin straightens his back, Muriel making sure he was okay before she went back inside. The moment she went inside, Hong-Jin turned to Johnny, and in a voice only low enough so anyone from inside couldn't hear him, he asked a question.

"You still a virgin?"

"HONG-JIN WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Johnny's face turned red and Simon's did too as Farah, Kyle, and Alex started laughing hysterically. Johnny lunged at Hong-Jin with the clear intent to strangle him, the boy dodging to the side while somehow keeping his composure.

"It's an honest question! Are you gonna wait 'til marriage or-?"

God, he's just like Ale.

Simon covered his face, Farah patting his shoulder while wheezing. Johnny continued trying to fight Hong-Jin, face burning bright while he cussed out his friend. The yelling summoned Isaiah, who just froze Johnny and Hong-Jin in place with just a single glance.

"Johnny! We have guests!"

John walked out beside Isaiah, "Oh, don't worry about having a filter. I've heard worse when I served."

Isaiah whipped around to look at John, "You served!?"

That sparked something and the two men started talking, walking back inside. Johnny blinks before he looks at Simon and Kyle.

"Our dads just became best friends. I just know it."

Simon snorts and Johnny would abandon his mission to kill Hong-Jin. The evening would continue on and everyone would start helping bring out food for the grill and setting up a table for all of the dishes (the cold dishes being kept inside until later). Johnny's grandmother would appear, giving Simon a firm hug before she would turn to Hong-Jin.

"Honey, my sweet! I'm so glad you came! Does your mother want some food for later?"

"Gran, we already have so many of your containers!"

"You can bring them back with more of that kimchi your mother makes," Gran said with a smile.

"I'll ask my Umma to make some more for you."

"I would love that. And I would love it more if you didn't try jumping the fence with it."

Johnny had mentioned that his grandmother and mother were best friends with Hong-Jin's own grandmother and mother. They were friends before they had even known about each other, which led to them meeting and inevitably becoming friends. He was a practical MacTavish (by Johnny's mother and grandmother's words) and Simon was somewhat nervous about joining that status.

"Who wants to bet who will get here first: Nik or Alejandro or Rudy?"

"Ale and Rudy are coming around seven... Nik will probably spawn in the driveway after work or whatever the hell he does."

"Construction."

"Hmm, still don't believe that."

Kyle snorts and Simon rolls his eyes. All attention turned towards the house as Isaiah came out and went to the grill. Knowing that the MacTavish family was filled with amazing cooks, everyone started getting excited. Food, MacTavish made. Can't get better than that! Everyone started coming outside, Johnny's sisters and their boyfriends, his parents, grandmother, and John came out with Nik.

"Nik's here... before Ale and Rudy? Pay up!"

"Fuck, there goes my ten dollars."

"Shouldn't have betted on the horniest guy we know and his perfect boyfriend who he worships to show up before Nik."

"Why did you say his name like that?"

Simon decided to step into the house to call Ale, dodging affections from Nik who clearly had the intent of embarrassing him as he did. When he returned outside, Johnny ran up to him and whispered.

"There's a cake with 'pre-married' on it that Eve brought. I am so sorry-"

After dying from the description of the cake, the barbeque went off smoothly. Isaiah and John were attached at the hip at the grill, talking like they were old friends while Nik silently watched them from the food table. Simon was trying to stick with Kyle and Farah but they followed Alex when he got grabbed by Hong-Jin and now they were... dancing? They were doing something inside the house in the living room that appeared to be dancing. So Simon stuck with Johnny who soon was snatched by his mother and grandmother into the house straight to the kitchen.

Which left Simon, alone at the table because he was too nervous about following Johnny into the kitchen and definitely didn't want to join whatever madness the others were doing in the living room. He was debating on joining Nik where he was when Jay and Carol's boyfriend (was it Oliver?) walked over to him and sat down. Simon tensed up, having not spent any alone time with the two like... ever.

Jay was twenty-two and Oliver was nineteen, so they were old. And considering how Carol was, Oliver was weird.

"So, finally said 'fuck it' and got with a MacTavish," Jay started, speaking in a low voice like he might summon one of Johnny's family by mentioning their surname.

Oliver grunts, "Already the favorite, too..."

Jay grins, "How'd you cheat the system?"

"Maybe it's because his dad's military. Look at them, Isaiah could kiss him!"

Oliver said that in a particular louder tone than what Jay had been speaking in, clearly with no shame or fear. Coincidentally, Nik's rather blank staring had hardened and he looked less than friendly by this point. Simon blinked when he noticed, unable to recall the last time he ever had seen Nik make that face.

Eve walks over to them and Simon relaxes as she grabs Jay by the ear, "You! Stop tormenting my little brother!"

Simon always did like Eve.

"Babe- AH!"

Jay gets up and moves away from Simon, ear trapped in Eve's hold but he made no attempt to free it. Oliver blinked when Eve snapped her gaze on him, standing quickly and leaving towards the grill where Carol was talking with her dad.

"Go inside, Si. Think Johnny could use some saving from Ma and Gran."

Simon snorts before he stands and quickly makes his way inside. The moment Simon passed by the kitchen and Johnny saw him, he immediately started trying to get away from his mother and grandmother. Both women were speaking in Gaelic, sounding very loving yet sad. Maybe reminiscing memories.

"Ma- Gran-"

"Can I see my boyfriend?"

It was like using that word flipped a switch, Muriel and Emery gasp before they started cooing. Using the 'B' word seemed to strike them in the heart, freeing Johnny from their hold and letting him leave with Simon. Johnny was blushing, grinning as they walked into the hall.

"What?" Simon asked while matching his infectious smile.

"You called me your boyfriend."

"Is that not what you are?"

Johnny's smile widens, stepping closer to Simon. Simon felt his heart beat fast with how close Johnny was getting. But he didn't back away, he even leaned forward. The honking of a horn out front of the house made them snap out of their daze, blinking in surprise at the sudden, very loud and familiar noise.

"Simon! Lamejandro is here!"

Johnny couldn't help but laugh, having not heard Farah's 'affectionate' nickname for Alejandro before. Simon ran out of the house, finding Alejandro and Rudy getting out of Alejandro's car. Simon was quick to smack Alejandro's shoulder, the boy gasping in a feigned hurt as he clutched the box of drinks to his chest.

“How dare you!?”

"Told you to not honk the horn," Rudy said bluntly as he walked past Alejandro, patting Simon's shoulder as he goes by, “Congrats on getting a man, finally.”

Alejandro wheezes as Simon bites his tongue. This was going to be a long night, he just knows. They head back inside and Farah looks at Alejandro from her place on the living room floor, Hong-Jin beside her. Alejandro froze when they made eye contact, Hong-Jin looking at Farah as if he was waiting for her to make the first move on how to proceed.

“Can you dance, Lamejandro?”

Rudy quickly grabbed the drinks from Alejandro when it looked like the boy was going to either drop them or throw them to the floor.

“Oh? Can I dance?”

“That was the question, are you deaf?”

Simon snickers and leads Rudy to the dining room where a lot of drinks and utensils were being kept, “She’s going to bury him alive.”

“I’ll help her.”

Simon looks at Rudy, “I thought he was the ‘love of your life’?”

Rudy just looked at Simon while he placed the box down, “You know just as well as I that Ale’s ego needs to come down several hundred notches. If nothing is done it’s going to pop.”

Simon laughs as Johnny walks into the dining room. Rudy turns and looks at him, Johnny freezing in place. That’s what happens when you’re effortlessly gorgeous, you freeze people in their tracks… also Rudy could be terrifying. Johnny would’ve remained frozen there if Simon didn’t motion him to come over. Rudy showed mercy and looked away, allowing Johnny to walk over.

Of course, something had to happen. Though things were weird, it was expected. But Simon was really hoping nothing bad would happen, or anything negative. He expected too much considering so many interesting people (adults and children) were shoved into the same place. Andy, the youngest of Johnny’s sisters, ran in. She spotted him and Simon and pointed to the door she just ran from. Simon’s blood ran cold when he heard a steady rise of voices, an unmistakable argument.

“Ma’s ‘bout to fight that weird guy with the sunglasses!”

WHAT-

Simon was out the door, Johnny right behind him, before Andy could say any more. And there they were, Nik and Muriel MacTavish, yelling at each other in their respective mother languages. Simon picked up on most of what Nik was saying, which made him cringe. He didn’t understand anything Johnny’s mom was saying but judging by her family’s faces… it probably was on par with Nik’s obscenities.

Johnny’s grandmother came over and ushered Simon and Johnny inside, Andy slipping around them to join her sisters in cheering for their mother while their boyfriends watched in awed silence. The last thing Simon saw before being pushed inside was his dad getting in front Nik and pushing him back while Isaiah just came over and scooped up his wife and moved her away.

“Oh- Go sit with your friends. I’ll handle this.”

The look in Gran’s eyes made it impossible for Simon to doubt her. She went back out the door and it closed a little harder than what was necessary, Gaelic being muttered under her breath, and Simon staring at it in horror. Johnny silently grabbed his hand as they heard the yelling suddenly stop, both of them walking back to the living room rather quickly. Everyone greeted them with staring, wide eyes and not a single one of them daring to say anything.

Simon tugged Johnny along and they sat down on the couch where Alex was. Alex stared at them, eyes flickering to Kyle who was on the floor (maybe doing some strange alien dance before everything happened) as if to ask him how to proceed. The only thing keeping Alejandro from saying something was Rudy’s firm hold on his bicep. And Hong-Jin just looked too in shock to say anything.

So Farah said something.

“What the fuck is going on out there?”

“Nik-“

“Was fighting with my mom…”

Everyone became horrified.

“… well, so much for a wedding-“

Hong-Jin was smacked and Simon was flooded with fucking embarrassment over everything he just witnessed. Of course Nik would some how get into a fight with Johnny’s lovely mother! Of course he would-

Kyle ended up going to spy out the dining room window to see if he could learn anything. Simon was just replaying the image of Nik and Muriel yelling at each other, red faced and the clear fact that everything was escalating. Simon couldn’t recall ever seeing Nik like that… and it disturbed him. He was always so calm, silent in anger but always kept his head level. The most he ever had was a blank expression, a twitching eye and a tone in his voice. Not that.

“Si,” Farah said, Simon turning look at her.

She seemed to know what he was thinking and just reached over and placed her hand on his knee. Simon feels Johnny lean against him and he breathes out. God, something just had to happen…

Alex stood and went to go check on Kyle after a few minutes of uneasy silence. Simon and Johnny just leaned against each other, Farah sitting next to Simon and Hong-Jin, Alejandro, and Rudy sat on the floor. No one knew what to say, none of them expecting something like this to happen, not when everyone was so excited and happy. It just came out of nowhere. Everything was too quiet from the adults and Johnny’s sisters and their boyfriends, and Kyle hasn’t returned with any news.

The silence ticked on and it became too much for Simon. Alejandro noticed and cleared his throat.

“So… I was gonna wait until later to be a smartass but-!” Alejandro jumped up, “I think I’ll give it to you now. Be right back.”

Alejandro leaves, Simon hearing the front door opening and closing. Rudy just sighed, obviously knowing what Alejandro was getting.

“He thought it would be funny…”

“Thought what would be funny?”

“Matching tombstones,” Hong-Jin joked and Johnny snickered in response.

Farah rolled her eyes, “Bit expensive for a joke.”

Rudy grins, “You have no idea what Ale is willing to do for a joke. He will dip into his college savings his dad set up to accomplish one if he has to.”

Simon laughs knowing it was true. Alejandro loved a good, elaborate joke or prank. He could believe him misusing the money his dad saved up for him for a joke… but only if it would be hysterical. He’s not that eager to dance with death.

Alejandro returns, a rather small box in his hands. The smirk on his face made Simon groan, pre-annoyed by whatever was in that box. Johnny was staring hard at it, like he was trying to look through the box to see what was in it.

“Ale… I’m going to kill you.”

Johnny leans over to look in the box after Simon finally spoke after a moment of silence, “Wha- No-“

Alejandro starts laughing, proud of himself clearly, as Simon takes out a fucking collar. Hong-Jin starts cackling, Farah covering her mouth and snorting at the sight. Rudy just sighed, though he was definitely amused by his boyfriend’s antics. Simon drops the collar back into the box before he hands it off to Johnny. Simon stands and Alejandro jumps away, his laughter becoming more erratic as Simon tries to grab him.

After minute Simon managed to Alejandro, and that’s when Kyle and Alex returned from the dining room.

“Hey, I think-,” Kyle stopped talking when he entered the room, Alex bumping into his back as a result.

Simon releases Alejandro after Kyle stares at him for a good five seconds, of course judging him.

“So- Uh, find out anything?”

More judging staring before Kyle finally says something, “I think they resolved whatever that was. They were talking but whatever they were talking about made Johnny’s sisters get bored.”

Johnny snorts, “Oh yea, they’ve made up.”

The rest of that evening was rather tame. There was no more fighting or shouting matches, just smooth sailing. Whatever Gran did worked because now Nik and Muriel were rubbing shoulders, probably being even more friendly than what John and Isaiah were. Simon was glad whatever that was was now over, he was still mortified by the whole thing.

“At least they’re friends now…” Johnny murmured as he sat next to Simon in the corner.

“I was scared they were going to throw punches,” Simon mutters back.

“My ma would win.”

Simon snorts, the image of a man Nik’s size getting taken down by Johnny’s tiny mother was rather hilarious, “I’d pay to see that.”

Eve had pulled out lawn darts and Simon had a feeling it would be safer to sit in the corner away from Alejandro. Rudy was standing behind him, trying to get him to not fuck around because he might hurt someone. Hong-Jin was no help because he was daring him to launch the dart at a bottle balanced on a fence post.

“Ale, no-“

“ALE-“

Of course Alejandro had to throw it. He cannot refuse a dare, his ego wouldn’t allow it.

“What did you do with the box?”

“I- SHIT-“

Johnny jumps up and runs into the house. The last thing they needed was someone finding a box with collar with Simon’s name on it. That would really be the icing on the cake.

___

Fun Fact/pieces of information for the fic!:

'Honey' is Johnny's gran and mom's nickname for Hong-Jin cuz they think he's a very sweet boy :) (Johnny called him ‘Honey’ once and got slapped because he wasn’t allowed to use it)

Eve is Johnny's eldest sister, she is in college and is twenty-one. Carol is eighteen. Andy is sixteen (she torments Johnny the most out of the sisters because of how close in age they are)

Johnny's dad is around 6'7-6'8 while his mom is barely 5'3

Rudy is trans, still working on fleshing out his story in the au. Hopefully some more things with Rudy to help build up his background in the future!

Isaiah is described to be ‘oblivious’ and scattered brained. It’s just undiagnosed ADHD (where do think Johnny got it from?)

Jay and Oliver are decent guys, they're just a version of weird Simon isn't too familiar with. They're kind of jealous Isaiah jumped on liking Simon so much so quick but they don't care too much considering they're still liked and a part of the family

I have two sets of names for Soap's family. One set is used for when Soap has a good relationship with them in the au/fic and the other set is for when they aren't on good terms! (though I haven't had a chance to use the other set of names yet)

[nolita-fairytale]

Carmy as your Baby Daddy | Social Media AU & Headcanon Series | part seven

a/n: may write a 'carmy & you as parents' headcanon. may also add another cute graphic/social post, however, for now... this is it, folks! enjoy our darling dearest baby daddy au which is pretty much just leaked dms between me and @carmensberzattos.

part six | masterlist

your life with carmy and baby bear:

first, baby bear has so many different cutie little nicknames: jo, joey, joey-bear, phinnie, and richie's personal favorite: toni-bear.

since you have the privilege of going on maternity leave, you do a lot of the day to day heavy lifting while carmy is at the restaurant. while he's pulled back a little at the restaurant, you know that carmy needs a little chaos in his life to feel at ease.

you parents decide to come to chicago to help with the baby for a few weeks. while baby bear's nursery is all set up, you don't exactly have a guest room. you're in tears over changing the nursery into a guest room last minute, so carmy enlists both richie, fak, and pete to do the job so that you don't have to. sugar and syd decide to take you out for a girls' day at the spa, and when you come home, you can't believe those four idiots managed to pull it off. (do i need to write this oneshot because i think i need to write this oneshot)

the proverbial 'they' say it takes a village, and it sure as hell does. you feel so incredibly lucky to have a village that shows up: marcus organizes a meal train and is one of the first to come over and spend time with his goddaughter; sydney is more than happy to pop back into shifts at the bear every now and then, just to give carmy so reprieve; and tina is ALWAYS down to babysit if she's got the time.

ava, richie's daughter is obsessed with baby bear, and is so excited that she finally has some cousins to play with. "boys are gross" -- ava, about baby michael and why she likes baby bear more lmao.

some nights, when baby bear wakes up in the middle of the night, it's not technically his 'turn' but carmy insists on getting up to put baby bear back to sleep. one restless night of sleep, you wake up to the sound of him watching anthony bourdain's no reservations. when you bring it up later that morning, carmy confesses to you that it's the only thing that will get her back down because he used to turn it on when you fell asleep, instead of the classical music you insisted was better for the baby while you were pregnant with her. while you pretend to be upset, you usually thank carmy for getting up when it's 'not his turn' with morning head that you're more than happy to give him before he goes off to work.

you always have a go-to table when you and baby bear go visit daddy at the bear, and no matter what, he always makes it a point to come out and say hello to the both of you.

while the first few months you and carmy both survive on nothing but takeout, meal trains, and stuff carmy's brought home for the restaurant, he diligently meal preps week after week for baby bear by making her homemade baby food packs. "you sure you don't mind? we can always pick something up from the store, babe?" you ask him. "no, it's just like a puree. i got this."

on the days that you're purely exhausted and at your wit's end, you and sugar commiserate via text and sometimes facetime, because you're not sure how she's doing life with a new baby AND another baby on the way.

the night before you go back to work, you spend most of the evening sobbing because you're simultaneously ready and exhausted, while you can't imagine being away from baby bear either. but you go back on a hybrid schedule, two days in office, three at home, so it helps, even though it's still a huge adjustment.

on the days that you are in office, carmy takes those days off, wanting to pull his weight as you guys go through this transition.

carmy is an amazing dad, something he wasn't sure he could be, considering he barely grew up with one. he's surprisingly patient and he's totally in love with baby bear. like the day she was born it broke his heart into pieces because it broke open an entirely different kind of love that he wasn't sure he was capable of.

even though it's hard work, you and carmy both agree that this is the best decision you've ever made together and carmy can't get over the idea of trying for another soon. "let me take a nap first, and then we can talk. unlike you, the rest of us can't survive on 30 mins of sleep, babe," you tease him.

okay hear me out: when baby bear is a toddler, the two of you love spending saturday mornings either going to the farmer's market, or picking up mochi donuts (think: the cute kinds with little animal faces) to bring back to the restaurant and share with daddy, even though he's slammed with brunch service. baby bear comes running into the restaurant on the sweetest, chubby little legs and richie, fully in his suit picks up her and spins her around while greeting her with her signature nickname: toni bear!

eventually, you and carmy move out of the apartment and start renting a house that you plan on renting for the long term. you're not entirely sure either of you want to be home owners yet, but you're anxious to get baby bear into the garden with you as soon as possible. baby bear spends the early spring planting fruits and veggies with mom, and the late spring/summer when they're ready to harvest in the kitchen with dad. neither of you have strong feelings about baby bear becoming a chef, but you do want her to understand the ritual and special place that food plays in your lives.

hosting big outdoor dinner parties for the whole framily. when she gets a little older, baby bear and baby michael run around while ava goes through her 'too cool for school' phase. any and everyone is invited, and for once, for both carmy and nat, it feels like being a berzatto isn't such a curse.

[puppetsoftomorrow]

avalance au where ava is a princess of a small country and she comes to the USA to study at college and she refuses a bodyguard (because she wants to be incognito) until they find sara, who ava pretends is her roommate and not her bodyguard, and everyone thinks they're dating because they're so insperable and they kinda roll with it... and then they fall in love or whatever!!

[soup-is-nice-sometimes]

okay okay hear me iut

newtmas "the artful dodger" au.... but they're lesbians (so we still have the "girls can't be surgeons" plotline)

'Jack' (aka newt obviously) has short hair and pretends to be a man when doing surgery so a lot higher stakes if she gets caught

Fagin is either ratman or ava

Charlie is Chuck

obviously our dear Belle is Thomas (and Fanny is Teresa)

and for shits and gigs Hetty is Minho (maybe gender swapped too?)

not to toot my own horn but if anyone wants to write this just give a credit that'd be great 🫶

[fauville]

wip wednesday

thank you for tagging me dear @lalizah mwaahhhhhh

tagging: @nat-seal-well, @thee-morrigan, @agentnatesewell, @agentark, @ava-du-mortain, @l-llavellans, @itsmistyeyedbi and @carriehobbs

my writing this past week has been very dragon age centric again, but wanted to share it anyway! also i have a shiny new writing blog @goldennug where i will reblog all of my writing too, so feel free to follow. 🥰

under a read more bc this is long!!!!

anyway this first one is from my varric/hawke fakedating fic (of pestering mothers, secret girlfriends and unwanted marriage proposals), where they pretend to be married, so hawke's mom doesn't marry her off.

The house is a shack on a beach.

It's ugly. And very small. There’s a hole in the roof and it’s overgrown with weeds. Definitely in need of some good TLC. 

“It's a shack,” Hawke says, “on a beach.”

She's shading her hazel eyes against the sun with her hand. The ugly (fake) wedding ring is glimmering in the shine, the lyrium stone mirroring the light of the afternoon in an eye-catching way. For some reason Varric can't stop staring at it and feeling funny.

He sighs. “Look, it was the best I could do in two weeks. It was this or the slums.”

“It's uglier than the arseholes of some of the worst looking men I’ve slept with,” Isabela comments helpfully before drinking a sip of her bottle of rotgut.

Varric doesn't really know what she's doing here. She just appeared as if from thin air.

“Yeah,” Varric says, scratching the back of his sweaty neck.

“Well, I think it's charming,” says Hawke — ever the optimist.

Isabela scoffs. Varric is pretty sure she’s already drunk.

the second one is from a future chapter of my arranged marriage solavellan fantasy AU. fantasy AU sounds funny bc dragon age is already fantasy but idk how else to describe it, lol. it's an original verse, i guess, lol.

After those two months of doing basically nothing, Merrill started giving her lessons on the theory of magic.

Apparently Fen'Harel had ordered that too for a reason she could not fathom. She still had not exchanged any words with him after her first prophetic dream. It was starting to make her seriously angry. He clearly thought she had no other uses than her visions and did not even pretend otherwise. It was infuriating.

“So,” Merrill said, stretching the word for a few seconds, her fingers linked together under her chin, “in theory magic has no theory.”

She blinked, and Merrill giggled at the expression on her face.

“Magic is wild,” Merrill explained. “Free. It's completely unpredictable like a dog mother with rabies. It can bite. It can tear. But it still knows how to nurture, how to grow something from a small seed into a beautiful tree.” She paused. “Dogs aren't trees, though. Dogs are dogs. But magic isn’t.”

She blinked again. “So magic can't be controlled?” she asked and Merrill shook her head.

“It can. In small amounts. Blood makes it easier.”

She thought about the time he saw her husband train in the courtyard. “The Dread Wolf doesn’t use blood.”

Merrill smiled. “Magic is attracted to power. Solas has more than most.”

“Solas?”

Merrill looked horrified. “I shouldn't have said that,” she said. “Pretend I didn't say that.”