#her trailer is just so good with everything that it really is a trailer just for her. everything bout it has themes and details

[phoenixglacier]

5.6 Paralogism Archon Quest Interlude Chapter: Act IV

This quest has single-handedly made me happier than anything.

Spoilers for literally everything below.

The 5.6 update has just come out, and with it came the new Archon Quest in Mondstadt!

I’ll start by saying I super super enjoyed it and was also super super looking forward to it. (This is not an unbiased review)

Some notes before we begin:

I play CN dub and EN sub. Always have and always will. It’s a personal preference, but also because mandarin is my second language so I can understand quite a bit. (Fun fact: the dub and sub have quite a bit of difference even in the basic meaning.)

I’ve been in and out of genshin, but I first started back in 1.6.

It’s completely possible that anyone might not have enjoyed this quest for any reason — rather than a review, these are just thoughts I need to get out of my head.

Thoughts in no particular order:

It took just under 3 hours for me to finish the whole thing. There are enough opportunities to pause and take breaks, and most of the fighting isn’t intensive, and the dialogue doesn’t just infodump on you. All in all nice pacing for me!

Dahlia’s relationship with Venti was surprisingly exactly what I was fantasising; he’s close friends with Venti and fully aware of his silly little personality, and it only makes his faith in Barbatos all the more stronger. I think lots of people (Jean, Diluc, Kaeya) love their archon even more when they can see him as a person, so it’s so fun that Dahlia is in the same boat while having an even stronger faith.

The way they kept locking eyes really sold how close of a relationship they have. And then their silly little conversation where both of them danced around Venti’s true identity and teased each other was also super adorable. I look forward to learning more about Dahlia – he seems so professional and also cheeky.

Dahlia running messages for Venti was also something predicted beforehand, but I was so excited to see it come true!

They jumped straight into the trial, which was pretty awesome! That way I wasn’t anxiously waiting through gameplay for something to go wrong out of nowhere. I think putting it at the beginning also showed they teased the right part, since that way we pretty much all started out with similar information whether we watched the trailer or not.

Kaeya did a great job as the defence. Earlier when the trailer dropped, I found it interesting that he was the one taking on that role, since it’s not really his thing? Kaeya’s job usually involves intel, infiltration, negotiation… in particular, I thought he might be up there to buy time, like maybe the whole trial was a diversion. So when it was revealed that Kaeya was performing an elaborate façade the entire time, it was really personally satisfying because it matched up with my thoughts. It was the same with Albedo: the trailer seemed like it was leaning fully into him being evil, so I did guess he was putting on some sort of performance too — he does like to act a little evil sometimes. For enrichment.

While I listened to Hertha and her evidence, I kept thinking “The evidence looks really bad for Albedo, but also isn’t conclusive evidence at all.” Her behaviour and the behaviour of the rest of the knights really made me feel that it was strange she was so set on persecuting him. I was already imagining that maybe it wasn’t really her, because she was acting so dramatically. The payoff was super sweet!

Knowing that this update was coming, I rewatched Act I of Albedo’s story quest, 1.2’s The Chalk Prince and the Dragon, and 2.3’s Shadows Amidst Snowstorms to be updated on the whole story beforehand. As a result, my understanding of everything they said during the quest was pretty smooth — I can’t be objective about how smooth it would’ve been otherwise. That being said, I like how they explained things as they came up too!

Pacing felt pretty good for me! I preferred this style of going back and forth between objectives and dialogue in shorter intervals. I personally hope they do this more in the future!

They brought in absolutely all the characters, which made me so happy! I play Genshin for the characters after all! Of course we had our major cast, but I was super happy that characters like Bennett also had their moments. It also felt super appropriate since it was a Mondstadt-wide situation. It was also really fun to see them mixing up the pairings a bit, with Lisa teaching Razor, Eula going with Klee, Amber teaming with Mika, and so on. It really sold the idea that our characters have lives and connections outside of what we are privy to, instead of just convenient pairs. It also seemed like a way to show that these characters aren’t isolated anymore and are becoming a tight community of people.

Speaking of community! Mondstadt has grown so much closer and trusting than way back in the Prologue. From Diluc working together with the knights, to Albedo freely trusting them with his biggest secret, to everyone knowing about the personal lives of NPCs, it really seemed like they’d become so much stronger than before by strengthening their trust. 

People pointed out the presence of Donna way back in the trailer and joked that she was only here to watch Diluc — another awesome payoff! I also liked that they brought up her crush enough that it was okay if you didn’t really know her before. The same with Beatrice and Quinn. It was made so special because we’ve known their stories for so long, but the story was understandable without it too.

In terms of more characters I didn’t expect, all that Durin talk definitely made me think about Mini Durin. I figured they had decided not to bring him up, so seeing Mini Durin show up really blew my expectations out of the water.

I will say that unlike all the Shadows Amidst Snowstorms references, I can’t imagine anyone would understand Mini Durin’s situation without having visited Simulanka (4.8 Summertide Scales and Tales). I really hope they decide to bring back all the events someday. 

The tease of Durin’s human form completely caught me off-guard! I’m so excited to see what they’ll do with him. Maybe when he comes out as a playable character, they’ll make Simulanka a proper permanent quest in some form..?

I love Venti so much. So much. And this quest did him so much justice. It was established way back in the Archon Quest Prologue and his Story Quest that Venti constantly switches between “Venti mode” and “Archon mode”. Miaojiang’s voice acting makes that difference really beautiful. In “Venti mode”, Venti purposefully plays up his weakness, ego, love for drinks, and all-round puts on a face as a bard of no particular threat. It’s an act, one that Venti really likes playing, but an act nonetheless. This quest showcased this really well! Venti was involving himself so much and using his godly powers, and then putting on an act to hide his identity when he thought he needed it.

The extent of Venti’s involvement also felt really warranted. The knights clearly felt they had it handled, so all he did was give them support in specific ways and make sure to keep an eye on everything going on. It’s a type of archonly oversight that just feels so comforting. It’s also funny that between Venti and Jean, Venti can’t possibly succeed in teasing her.

I imagine both Albedo and Kaeya would have felt really happy that they officially have the blessing of Barbatos (per the wind communication spell)

More gameplay things: I really like setting up the story so that Lumine doesn’t always have to be involved in every little thing, such as when Diluc and Kaeya were on the bridge. The trial characters were a neat bridge to achieve that, but I do wish they let us choose to use our own characters too if we had them built!

That beautiful still art of Venti, Varka, and the Hexenzirkel really struck me because they used Venti’s modern outfit instead of his archon look. And it felt like it all just kept teasing more and more information. Albedo navigating the Hexenzirkel like a big, complicated extended family was awesome. Just listening to him negotiate with Alice while calling her Āyí made me feel things. Him ultimate referring to the whole situation as “just another day for his family” and calling Durin his brother were perfect.

More bits and pieces here, but I like the angle they took for Albedo’s pursuit of science. To my understanding, he believes in “Knowledge for the sake of knowledge”, while at the same time, being conscious of the consequences of acting carelessly. In other words, he doesn’t inherently aim to better the world with his science, nor does he believe there are inherent consequences to doing drastic things like creation. But he also doesn’t ignore the possibility of causing harm. It’s not my personal approach to science, but it’s very reasonable and very congruent with his character.

I can’t possibly cover absolutely everything, but Eula deserves a mention. I was wondering why she wasn’t speaking up about our experience in Shadows Amidst Snowstorms during the trial, and thought it might be because she’s worried her reputation as a Lawrence would just cast further suspicion, but it turns out she was part of the plan all along. I love how panicked she was when she lost Klee. I love how she happily played along with Klee after that. I love how a subtle signal from her was all Amber needed to know exactly what she wanted. I love how when Amber heard Eula kept it all a secret, she was so proud of her secret-keeping abilities instead of being upset. Also shout-out to Diluc saying that he could tell Kaeya wasn’t acting right, and continuing the trend of protecting him. They clearly still have a ways to go, but it feels like young adult awkward distance to me.

Bringing up pacing again, but I really liked the pace that they gave us info. Nothing is in a huge chunk, and everything is enough to understand what’s happening, and Paimon validates us when we’re not supposed to know something. We’re told as soon as it’s revealed that all of this was a setup and now we have to defend the city, and then between fights and dialogues they explain the details of the plan to us, which made all of it way more enjoyable. Later when Albedo mentioned that Gold devoured Naberius, Paimon’s reaction let me know I was supposed to feel confused, which immediately made the experience comfortable.

Also what do you mean Gold ate the Ruler of Life. Albedo. What is wrong with your family.

I think it’s very fitting that Albedo looks a little crazed and perfect trailer bait when he’s creating a new body for Durin — it’s when he most resembles his mother, after all. Also, he is very unrepentant about killing several whoppers. Mondstadt is lucky he’s one of them.

Also Venti in his sniper's nest never happened, trailer blatantly lied to us. But something I thought about when I saw him up there with his bow was that Venti actually gets involved in his people's business super quickly, but rarely through combat. At the time, I thought him showing up in public in combat mode showed how dire the situation was. But instead, the threat was so adequately contained by the knights that Venti didn't have to bust out combat mode at all, and instead helped out in his usual Barbatos way (and a little more!)

Closing thoughts:

I was so excited leading up to this update that it nearly scared me. A part of me thought, if I have such high expectations, what if it can’t meet my expectations anymore? I even speedran the whole Natlan quest over the course of four days so that I would be ready for anything in this quest, and I had a lot of issues with it. I had built the Mondstadt quest up in my mind to be this huge thing — thankfully, it delivered with flying colours. The singular only thing that would have made it better is if Venti sang a song.

Based on the recent behind the scenes where the developers talked about Nod-Krai but also a lot about their process in general, I feel like returning to Mondstadt was likely part of their plan to wrap up all the plot threads they’ve put out from the beginning. They seem to be listening to things that the players have said about missing pieces of information or certain technologies being too jarring. The return to Mondstadt was handled beautifully, and felt like coming home to see everyone stronger together.

I wrote this because I’m still bursting with excitement from the quest and need to speak to someone about this, so into the void it goes.

[linusbenjamin]

Nick Burkhardt affected by Cracher-Mortel. Grimm —3.01, The Ungrateful Dead

[pickaropoprocks]

No idea what route they're gonna go for Kana5 but I do think that it would be absolutely hilarious if it was the most fluff a prsk key story has ever been, especially after all EN has been theorizing is that it's going to be absolutely devastating and have irreversible effects on Kanade's psyche

[aria0fgold]

You ever just see a character so loved by its creators that it shows through the character itself?

[spookysanta]

The Stack Effect. (1/3) (MBJ)

Pairing: Michael B. Jordan x reader

Warnings: smut

listen. i know everyone likes smoke, okay? but there's something about that slick-mouthed stack that makes me (s)cream. anyway. part 2 will be out tomorrow.

She really thought she could handle it.

He’d told her what the look was going to be. She’d seen the early character mockups. Even helped him pick out which rings looked best under camera lighting.

But nothing prepared her for the real thing.

Nothing prepared her for Stack.

The moment she stepped on set, she knew she was in trouble. It wasn’t just the grills or the button-down or even the perfectly-tailored suit. It was the walk. The posture. The voice that turned every word into something that lingered too long in the air.

And the worst part? He hadn’t even looked at her yet.

He was finishing up a shot with Ryan, leaning against a vintage car like he belonged to another time. Gold tooth catching sunlight. Chain resting against his chest. A cigarette between his fingers that he didn’t even smoke, just held for the aesthetic. The way he moved — slow, confident, swaggering — made her skin prickle.

She was supposed to be dropping off lunch.

She forgot all about the food the second he laughed.

The sound hit her low in her gut. Dangerous. Like something out of a dream she’d forgotten to wake up from. Heat rose beneath her skin, her stomach fluttering as she tried to breathe past the ache blooming in her chest.

She lingered by the edge of set, trying to act unbothered. One of the costume assistants passed her and grinned knowingly.

“He’s in character today,” they said. “Deep. Like, don’t-even-call-him-Michael deep.”

Great.

She tried not to stare. She did. But then the crew wrapped the shot, and he turned. Eyes on her like he’d known she was there the whole time.

And that damn smile.

Gold teeth flashing. Dimples on low simmer.

He nodded once to the crew. Said something quiet to the director, then headed straight for her.

Her mouth went dry.

She tucked her phone into her bag, shifted her weight, did everything except run, because that’s what her body wanted to do.

He didn’t speak until they were close.

Closer.

Everyone else peeled away. The set crew thinned. It was just the two of them now.

And he was still in character.

“You bringin’ me somethin’, baby girl?” he asked, voice slow and Southern and laced with heat.

She swallowed. Hard.

“Lunch,” she croaked.

He tilted his head, took the bag from her hands without breaking eye contact.

“That so?”

“You said you were hungry,” she added quickly, trying to pull her composure together.

He leaned in, just a bit.

“I am hungry,” he murmured, glancing down her body before looking back up. “But not for food.”

Her breath caught. A shiver ran down her spine.

He smirked.

Then he turned and started walking.

She didn’t realize where they were going until she saw the trailer door swing open.

He held it for her.

“Ladies first.”

She stepped inside. He followed. The door clicked shut behind them.

Silence.

And then he was on her.

“You been starin’ at me like that since you got here,” he said, voice low, hands gripping her waist. “Like I ain’t yours. Like you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” she whispered.

He kissed her jaw, slow and messy, teeth scraping skin. “You sure? You actin’ real shy now. Where’s that mouth from this mornin’?”

“Michael—”

“Stack,” he snapped gently, tugging her closer. “When I look like this? You call me by my name.”

She whimpered. Actually whimpered.

And then he smiled. The kind that promised nothing good.

“Go on and get comfortable, darlin’,” he drawled, walking her backward until her knees hit the edge of the small couch inside the trailer. “I’m gon’ take my time with you.”

And he did.

Her back hit the cushions and his hands were everywhere — sliding beneath her blouse, tugging down the waistband of her pants, thumbing the insides of her thighs until she was gasping. The heat between her legs pulsed like a heartbeat. Every movement was deliberate, teasing, until her hips were arching off the couch in search of friction.

He took his time. Mouthing at her breasts, dragging his teeth over sensitive skin, licking a stripe down her center until she cried out his name — the wrong name.

“Stack,” she gasped, thighs trembling.

He grinned up at her, lips slick. “That’s more like it.”

For the rest of the lunch break, she forgot who she was. Forgot what day it was. Forgot her own name.

All she remembered was his voice in her ear.

And that gold tooth grinning down at her every time she moaned his.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

HEAD OVER HEELS

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers appearance !!)

SUMMARY: in which drew starkey is head over heels in love with his girlfriend, y/n.

based on this ask !! i really hope you like this anon, you didn’t request a specific plot so i went with this :)

WARNINGS: pure fluff, obsessed!drew but in a cutie patootie way !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

A/N: i promise guys i will sort out making a master list tonight !! for now, click on my personalised tags like #bettys asks !!

WORD COUNT: 1k

THIRD PERSON +

Drew couldn't stop talking about her. His girlfriend, Y/N, that is.

His castmates on the Outer Banks set had long since grown used to it, though they still teased him mercilessly. It wasn't unusual for him to pull out his phone between takes and scroll through pictures of her, showing anyone who would listen. Even Chase joked once, "You know, Drew, we've all met her. You don't have to keep proving she exists."

But Drew didn't care. He loved talking about her. Loved the way her smile lit up his entire day, the way her laughter felt like sunshine breaking through clouds. Y/N was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he wasn't shy about letting everyone know it.

"She's visiting today," Drew announced, a giddy grin spreading across his face as he leaned against the craft services table.

Madelyn raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. "You've only mentioned that about a hundred times this week."

"Yeah, and what's your point?" Drew shot back, unbothered. He grabbed a bottle of water and opened it, taking a sip before adding, "I just can't wait for you guys to see her again. She's incredible."

Madelyn exchanged a knowing look with Rudy, who was attempting (and failing) to suppress a laugh.

When Y/N finally arrived on set that afternoon, Drew spotted her instantly. She stepped out of the car, her hair slightly tousled from the coastal breeze, and his entire world seemed to pause. She was wearing his favorite sundress—the one he'd told her once made her look like a walking daydream—and he couldn't stop the wide, lovesick smile that overtook his face.

"Y/N!" Drew called out, practically sprinting toward her.

Before she could respond, he had her wrapped in his arms, lifting her off the ground as she let out a surprised laugh.

"Joseph Andrew Starkey! Put me down!" she exclaimed, though she was grinning just as much as he was.

"Not a chance," he replied, spinning her around once before finally setting her back on her feet. "God, I missed you."

"You saw me three days ago," she teased, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"And that's three days too long," he said without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

It didn't take long for the rest of the cast to spot her. Chase and Rudy came over to say hi, both of them giving her warm hugs and cracking jokes about how Drew had been "insufferable" without her.

"You're a saint for putting up with him," Rudy quipped, earning a playful shove from Drew.

Y/N laughed, her cheeks flushing slightly as Drew laced their fingers together. "He's not so bad," she said, glancing up at Drew with a soft smile.

"Not so bad?" Drew repeated, feigning offense. "I'll have you know I'm the perfect boyfriend."

"And humble, too," she teased, nudging him lightly.

The group chatted for a while before Drew pulled her away, eager to have her to himself. He brought her to his trailer, where he'd set up a small surprise for her: a bouquet of her favorite flowers and a handwritten note resting on the table.

"Drew," she said softly, her eyes shining as she turned to look at him. "You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to," he said, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You deserve it. You deserve everything."

She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest as she took a deep breath. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

"Not possible," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

For the rest of the day, Drew was glued to her side. He introduced her to everyone on set—again—even though most of them already knew her from her previous visits. But it didn't matter to Drew. He wanted to show her off, to let the world see just how amazing she was.

During breaks in filming, he would find her wherever she was sitting and drape himself over her like an oversized golden retriever. "You comfortable?" he'd ask, despite the fact that he was the one taking up all the space.

"Very," she'd reply, laughing as she adjusted to make room for him.

When it came time for Drew to shoot his scenes, Y/N watched from the sidelines, her eyes filled with pride. He'd glance over at her between takes, flashing her a grin or a wink, and her heart would flutter every time.

At one point, Madelyn leaned over to Y/N and whispered, "He's like this all the time, you know. Completely obsessed with you."

Y/N's cheeks turned pink, but she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face. "I'm not complaining," she said softly, her gaze never leaving Drew.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the set, Drew was practically attached to her hip. He posted a candid photo of her sitting on a beach chair, the ocean in the background and a soft smile on her face. The caption was simple: My favourite view.

"You're going to make people sick with how sweet you are," she joked when she saw the post.

"Good," he said, pulling her into his arms. "Let them be sick. I don't care."

That night, as they sat on the beach together, watching the waves crash against the shore, Drew couldn't help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

"I love you," he said suddenly, his voice soft but steady.

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide and a little surprised.

"I mean it," he continued, his gaze locked on hers. "I love you. More than anything."

A smile spread across her face, and she reached up to cup his cheek. "I love you too, Drew."

In that moment, with the stars beginning to twinkle above them and the sound of the ocean in the background, Drew felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. With her.

Always with her.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so sweet :’) there’s something about guys who are so lovesick and obsessed with their gf’s that just MELTS my heart😫

i’m still working my way through all my requests from oldest to newest (except a couple i got good inspiration for), so please be patient if you’ve recently requested something !! <3

[lexirosewrites]

the Harringtons are the kind of parents to entirely ignore their omega son, Steve, but still opt him out of comprehensive sex ed in school

they even have the nerve to act surprised and outraged when he gets pregnant his senior year, as if he was supposed to know that letting teammates use his pussy would result in a baby?

poor little rich Steve Harrington with all the popularity money can buy and all the common sense he’s been “protected” from because of it

why are his parents mad that he’s gained weight? why are all the alphas at school being mean to him now and calling him names instead of making him feel good like they used to?

he doesn’t understand why his parents are allowed to kick him onto the street just because he’s 18 now, he still relies on them for everything

by the time Wayne Munson finds him on the side of the road in the rain, pregnant and pathetic, Steve has given up all hope of life going back to normal

he doesn’t even know enough to be wary

Wayne himself is a bit horrified that Steve doesn’t seem afraid of a strange alpha bringing him back to his house, but he’s a good man and he has a nephew Steve’s age so he involves himself in the Harrington mess nonetheless

he tells Steve that he can stay at their place and they’ll take care of him as long as he needs

Steve isn’t sure whether to believe it, but he doesn’t have any other options at the moment

Eddie however is annoyed at what Wayne’s dragged home with him

as if life wasn’t hard enough, now they’re going to house the town slut with them too? there’s barely enough room for the two of them to begin with and now they have Steve

Wayne doesn’t allow that sort of talk though

he tells Eddie to really look at Steve. look at the confused young omega with a growing belly and no life skills that didn’t even know enough to find shelter from the rain

sending him out would be a death sentence

Steve probably wouldn’t last a day out there alone

Eddie can’t help but feel like shit when Steve flinches away from him

he’s never touched Steve before. it wasn’t his idea of a good time to fuck with an omega who didn’t say ‘no’ to anyone who asked

but the longer Steve stays with them, the more he realizes that Steve wasn’t saying ‘yes’ either

so they show Steve how to be an omega by being the alphas in his life that he needs. they take care of him, keep him safe, give him a place to make a nest, teach him that he deserves respect and love from his pack

they’re not omegas, but they find Joyce Byers to show him the mothering stuff as his pup keeps growing inside him and brings unanswered questions

she explains all of the things they can’t and even covers the details he missed as a pup himself about mating and courting and how babies are made

after a couple of lessons with her, Steve comes back to the trailer and asks Eddie to be his mate

he may be a little behind, but he understands this

Eddie has been the one protecting him. the alpha gave up his bed for Steve and has been sleeping on the pull-out for months

Eddie got a real job to help out with the bills and afford the extra food for Steve and his pregnancy appetite

Eddie is the one who calls him pretty, respects his space, holds him when he’s sad

he’s a good alpha

Eddie is dumbfounded by the proposal

of course in the back of his mind he’d been wondering when it was appropriate to court Steve and ask to be the pup’s father, but the last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of an omega that the world had already chewed up and spit out

“You’re my alpha and you love me, so we should be mates,” Steve insists

and who is Eddie to argue with that logic?

Wayne isn’t surprised by the budding romance between the boys, but he does give Eddie a hell of a talk about treating Steve right

Eddie and Steve welcome their pup a week later

[notanactressyayy]

·˚ ₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 | natasha romanoff

. ݁₊ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 . it was a new era of her life. she no longer had missions or a team to rely on — only endless free time, and a bunch of thoughts that weren't really helpful. Natasha for once, had time to pick up her phone — something trivial. through the dating app Tony had dared her to install months ago, she meets somebody. finally, her heart was at peace.

. ݁₊ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 . smut! i am not responsible for your content consumption! — a TW for the photo editing thing. this may be a sensitive topic for some. lonely Nat, insecure Nat — she edits a picture of her body, swearing, oral (N receiving). lots of fluffy stuff, too. set after Civil War.

. ݁₊ 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 . english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors. this ended up SO MUCH longer than i initially planned. i put a lot of dedication into this so, yeah 🥹

thanks to my lovely @sunswish who helped me with the plot and the proofreading! ♡

The trailer was quiet, except for the faint rustle of the wind through the trees outside. Natasha sat at the small wooden table by the window, her knees pulled up to her chest, a steaming mug of tea resting untouched beside her. The Norwegian countryside was beautiful, vast and unassuming, but the stillness pressed down on her.

Her phone laid on the table, the screen dark. She stared at it for a moment, the faintest flicker of hesitation crossing her face. She’d never been good at this — being still, alone with her thoughts. For years, her life had been one constant motion: missions, battles, briefings, always moving forward because stopping meant thinking, having time to ponder about her life.

Her jaw tightened, and she looked out the window instead. What was she even doing?

She’d fought tooth and nail to become an Avenger, to carve out some sliver of redemption for herself, some sense of belonging in a world she’d spent so long working against. She’d believed in their cause, in their family, even when it meant trusting people with pieces of herself she hadn’t known she was capable of sharing.

And now? The Avengers were gone. Torn apart, like everything else she’d tried to build. She was a fugitive, hunted by the very government she’d once fought to protect. Her friends — her family — were scattered, some in hiding, some in prison. She was left with nothing but her name and a handful of private contractors who worked in the shadows. People she barely trusted, people who barely trusted her. Yet she still needed them for supplies, false documents, and a roof above her head. Funny, she thought.

She reached for her mug, her fingers curling around the warmth of the ceramic, though she didn’t take a sip. She had no mission now, no team to fall back on. No one to call when the silence became too much. She wasn’t sure if she missed the fights or the people more.

A faint vibration against the table snapped her from her thoughts. Her phone. She glanced down, the screen lighting up with a notification — some random email, one of these ‘no reply’ ones, nothing important. She hesitated, then picked it up anyway, her thumb hovering over the screen.

Scrolling through her phone felt… strange. Almost trivial. She opened Instagram, an app she barely used but kept around for the rare moments she wanted to feel tethered to something normal. The feed was full of snapshots of a life she didn’t recognize—vacations, dinners, smiling faces, people celebrating milestones she wouldn't ever have.

And right then, the name ‘Avengers’ didn’t make sense for her anymore. She was supposed to have this. This life where she would have a fun moment and think ‘oh, yes! i should absolutely shoot a pic and add to my stories’. After all, Natasha was just an unavenged girl, woman, human. A picture of a mother celebrating her daughter's birthday wasn't just one more picture showing on her feed. It was her dream.

She scrolled absently, her mind only half-engaged as her thumb flicked upward. Part of her wanted to throw the phone across the room and forget she’d ever picked it up. But another part—the quieter, lonelier part—held onto it like a lifeline.

She then receives another automatic notification. How has your love life been going? It took her a moment to remember what it was, and when she did, she let out a dry, humorless laugh.

The dating app.

She’d installed it months ago as a joke, because Tony had bet her she wouldn’t. She could still hear his voice in her head, teasing her. “Come on, Nat. You might actually meet someone who doesn’t want to kill you for once.” At the time, it was funny. She’d downloaded it, filled out the bare minimum of the profile, like: cat lover, captivating green eyes & martial arts enjoyer and promptly forgotten about it.

Her finger hovered over the icon now, her heart giving a strange, uncomfortable twirl in her chest. The idea of opening it felt absurd. What would she even say to someone? What would they see in her, beyond the scars and the lies and the mess she’d made of her life? That was made of her life? Could she even try and have a relationship? When throughout her life, she didn’t ever have a conversation about feelings? Clint was the closest attempt to that — he knew her past, more than the others, at least. So she spoke to him about things like that before. But he had a wife, kids, a home.

Natasha damned her heart every single day — for wanting a connection with somebody — for wanting to be somebody's, and for not being content with what she already has.

What does she even have?

She sighs deeply as she gathers a little bit of courage (that usually wasn't necessary when one was to open a simple app in their phone) and presses her thumb against the icon. Her eyebrows show a little frown as she realizes the app wasn’t open — she had held the icon for too long, making the options add to home and uninstall pop up on her screen.

“Goddammit,” she mutters to herself. Maybe she had done it on purpose. She considers choosing the second option. But her thumb, once again, hovers over the uninstall word for too long.

She was just confused. In conflict, with something so small. Although, she was braver than that.

“Let's just get over with this.” She mutters to herself as she finally opens the app — SparkMatch, she reads the name, for the first time. She lets out a scoff. Though the feeling of unease didn't take long before coming back to her. The about me section was completely empty, in exception for-

“Captivating green eyes. Cat lover.” she reads the words she had typed, aloud, cursing herself. It was what she had written in order to simply make the Iron Man laugh and leave her alone. “Great job, Romanoff. Truly irresistible.”

Scrolling down her profile, which was named only @Natasha1203— having in mind that her surname wasn't one to be openly shared — she finds the photos she had chosen, months ago, without really thinking much. Her gallery didn't have much cheering stuff. They were as nondescript as possible: a picture of a skyline she had taken while on the run. Her in sunglasses, her most common accessory. And.. a single closeup of her face, that felt too honest for comfort. She doesn’t know why she left that one there, for the world to stare at. Maybe it was the one moment where she caught herself looking like.. well, herself. If somebody squinted their eyes, they could see a small scar on her shoulder. She hoped people wouldn’t do that.

Summing up: the profile was a mess. And that was a perfect reflection of the person behind it. She doesn't make a move to edit any information — before remembering an important detail. It would be nice to change her profile's name, in case anybody (especially Tony, that was aware of this) tried to look for her.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203 was the new username.

Perfect. She does a little ‘tsk’ with her tongue, a little habit she developed when finishing a task.

Flirting was easy. She had been trained for it — trained in the art of seduction, molded into a woman that could slip into any persona, say the right words, touch in the right way, just to get what she needed. But this wasn't one of the spy programs she had access to in SHIELD. This wasn't about manipulation or information extracting. This was trivial. Normal.

Natasha browses through the app for a while. She stops in profiles of strangers that smiled back at her through their pictures — men, women, who were teachers, doctors, engineers. People with families and hobbies. Who had the chance to live a life without looking over their shoulders every second. Yet something about this.. gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was faint, but it was there. Knowing all these little details about random folks, she could find small pieces of herself in each one: some did ballet when they were little. Some had a scar due a kitchen accident. Some did karate simply for liking the sport. Some liked peanut butter sandwiches. She quietly giggles, her previous nervousness replaced by a silly feeling.

Maybe it wasn't that bad. It is not like a random person was gonna crawl out of her phone screen and have a date right then, anyway. And there was another ‘problem’. This app was still american, while she was in a whole new timezone.

What a relief.

She shifts on the small couch of her trailer, now laying down on it, allowing herself to get entertained with SparkMatch. She even found some profiles that were probably deactivated by now, seeing that they were created, like, a decade ago. She purposefully clicked on the small heart on them, meaning Match. She softly laughs.

But the sound is interrupted by herself as she finds a specific user.

It was a minimalist profile — elegant, even. It didn't say much about the person's personality: it said enough. It wasn't extravagant or absurd like some she had found. And it certainly wasn't a mess, like hers.

Y/n. 34. Not good at small talk, but I'm a good listener. A photographer, currently traveling around. Just someone who thinks the world is too big of a place to stay idle for too long. Currently: Norway

It was truly something else, compared to the live, laugh, love bios or the gym rats flashing their abs.

Her curiosity picks up, and soon enough, she sees a picture of them in Oslo.

And it was posted just three days ago.

So they were active in this app. But this wasn't what her mind grasped. Traveling in Norway. International trips usually didn’t last just three days, right? So that meant they were still there. There with her.

Out of all countries in the world, they were there?

She reads the bio again. Currently: Norway.

A strange shiver runs down her spine the more she thinks about the situation she found herself into. She bites on her lip, her stomach twirling almost painfully, like a school girl texting her crush. She was the Black Widow, for God's sake. She didn't get to go on silly dates and receive flowers.

No. This was too much. Without closing the app, she locks the screen of her phone again and drops it to the couch, quickly standing up and running her fingers through her hair. There were many reasons why this wouldn't work, especially when she was a fugitive and could get recognized, even in a small cafe.

Heading to the tiny kitchen, she opens a drawer on the countertop and grabs a bottle opener, opening the fridge and taking a beer out. She removes the cap and downs the bottle with no second thought, the bitter liquid ripping down her throat. Deeply breathing, shakily. Amidst the vast emptiness, not only of the place she was currently settled, but of her heart too, she fought back tears. The glass of the bottle clicks against the marble countertop as she places it down, her hands tightly gripping onto the edge of the furniture, holding herself up. It was a hard decision to make, whether to take this opportunity and keep it safe in her heart, or to let it go and pretend it never happened in the first place.

But she wouldn't be able to rest tonight knowing she simply did nothing about that special person the app charitably put into her hands. So, on this night, the unshatterable Natasha Romanoff did something she never thought she would. Before heading to bed, she picked up her phone again. Gladly, she didn't have to look for the profile once more. She simply had to press onto the small heart next to their picture. And she did.

The screen flashed: It's a match!

Natasha blinked in surprise, almost dumbfounded by this message. But this was meant to happen, right? Now, she could only hope that she would receive something in return by the morning.

It felt.. good. She had something to expect, a little flicker of hope that followed her even in her dreams, that made her feel better than she could ever imagine.

And this was just the start.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When the next day came, all of Natasha’s thoughts regarding the whirlwind of recent events were replaced by a single thing: that person. That New Yorker who was currently in Norway to take photos for a personal album. She initially wondered if she could really lower her guard like this and not think too much about Secretary Ross — who was still after her — but it was not like she would leave this trailer anytime soon. Thus, she needed a distraction, something to keep her brain entertained until this whole mess was over.

Talking to them was a relief — a solace she had been needing and didn't even know until now.

Talking to you.

Right away you had seen the match notification of SparkMatch, even if it was already one in the morning when it arrived. You sent this woman- Fanny? a message, and waited, but no response came until the next day. You wondered if she had impulsively pressed the match button and ran away from her phone out of nervousness. You actually imagined it, seeing the one picture of herself she published on her feed. Her profile was.. vague, to say at least, but she was incredibly beautiful, and indeed had captivating green eyes, like she boldly described herself. It made you smirk to your phone’s screen. No, genuinely smile.

It was pretty much clear that she wasn't a dating app person. And neither were you! You just had a better sense of organization than her, that's for sure. What if you two could really be a match?

As the day went on, you two engaged into a conversation that was surprisingly enjoyable for both sides. Opening the inbox chat, that could be found:

@Y/n: Good night. Is your real name Fanny Longbottom?

— eight hours later —

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Good morning! The first thing you ask a woman is if her name is real?

@Y/n: It just doesn't suit a beautiful redhead with captivating green eyes.

Natasha groaned to herself at this, laughing. The humor in the text was evident, and she loved that.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Right. It was a joke. You can call me.. Nat.

It was a glimpse of her name. It could be Natasha, Natalia, Natalie.. or all of these.

@Y/n: Nat.. that is better. Yet still very vague. Like your whole profile.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Perhaps my whole account here is a joke.

@Y/n: And we still matched. And sincerely, I'm intrigued. Intrigued and curious.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a dangerous thing to tell someone you just met.

@Y/n: Personally, I wouldn’t call a cat lover dangerous.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Will you stop mocking me for my irresistible biography or what?

It was an easy playful banter. It felt light. Not like these conversations where you had to directly ask the other person to be nice to you.

@Y/n: You just don’t strike me as someone who spends much time on dating apps. What brings you here?

With that, she debated whether to mention Tony’s dare or not. She could talk about it, but not for now. If she’s sincere, about how much she needed not to be alone anymore, this could lead to something good, more profound.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: I’m just trying something new. What about you? Norway seems kinda away from the rest of the world.

@Y/n: It is. But sometimes you have to go far to find what you’re looking for.

Natasha leaned back, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of her lips. She didn’t know who you were, or why your words seemed to settle something in her chest, but for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she felt.. excited.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Have you found it?

@Y/n: Not yet. But I have a feeling I might be in the right place.

She stared at the message, her mind turning over the possibilities. She was already glad that this hadn’t started with “hey, you’re cute” or “what’s up?”, and now? It felt like she was in a dream — to find someone that shared her ideals, or that at least, thankfully, sounded like a mature adult.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Maybe Norway isn’t so bad after all.

@Y/n: So you’re also here!

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That seems like an excited message to me.

Gladly, her phone’s camera wasn’t capturing anything. Because she swore her eyes were sparkling right now.

@Y/n: Of course I’m excited, Nat. Now I have something else to think about other than shooting pictures.

Natasha stared at the reply, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of her phone. There was something disarming about your words — direct, yet not forceful. And the way you used her name so casually made her blush.

She hesitated, before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: What do you shoot? Other than clever replies, apparently.

@Y/n: Street photography. Portraits, mostly. But I’ve been known to dabble in the occasional cat picture. You know, for balance.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Balance is important. What would the world do with no cat pictures?

@Y/n: I shudder to imagine it. Speaking of balance.. would you let me buy you coffee sometime? Or would that be too much?

Her breath caught. You really didn’t waste time, did you? she thought. For a moment, her walls threatened to go up again — she could almost hear that little voice in the back of her mind telling her that this was not a good idea, that it wasn’t smart, safe.

But she silenced it. It was too soon, for sure — but she couldn’t knock it till she tried it.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That depends. Are you going back to New York in the next few days?

@Y/n: I don’t have a specific date to go back. So I guess it depends on how things go.

Yeah. Now she felt a little pressured. It was a dilemma, she could be the reason you stayed or left. Adrenaline coursed through her veins — that was determination.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: It’s not like I am going anywhere anytime soon, either. But.. I like to play hard to get sometimes. How about we wait and see how things go?

@Y/n: Hard to get, huh? Well, patience is a virtue. Let me know when you feel like stopping the chase.

And you two went on like that — talking about your favorite portraits, sending her some — receiving her compliments, which sounded way too genuine for your liking. It was casual, like talking to a friend. Natasha didn't take long to start feeling comfortable with texting you. If she weren't a spy without a private number, she would've asked for your WhatsApp. Or maybe she was just exaggerating. The thing was: she didn't have to wonder about how to answer you. Your way of having conversations was so nice that she didn't feel forced to text back.

And with these new discoveries, Natasha felt like she could be in this new country without feeling too out of place. She feared that in the end this would be just one momentary experience, one of the many personas she played.

But shockingly, for once, she didn’t feel like paying attention to her overthinking.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

Weeks had passed, and the nightly silence Natasha once dreaded was now filled with something else. Her phone screen, once cold and impersonal, had become an opening to something warmer. A new phase of her life. She never thought she would be so close to a mobile device before. Supersecret agents couldn’t have personal ones other than burner phones, it was risky — they could get hacked, tracked, recognized. She didn’t have a number, or an email with her name, bank accounts, or any sort of thing that could link her to the authorities. She only had TikTok, Instagram, some games like Candy Crush Saga and her newest best friend, SparkMatch.

Everyday, without fail, your conversations flowed effortlessly. You spoke about everything: Norway’s quiet beauty, silly anecdotes, and even the mundane things that somehow became meaningful when shared. She made herself get used to the habit of not thinking much. This wasn’t part of the plan — or rather, there was no plan. This constant connection grounded her in a way she didn’t fully understand.

Having someone willingly care about her, without having to ask, beg for it — she couldn’t understand.

This evening, after eating her exquisite caviar and drinking champagne, she settled onto her couch with a blanket draped over her shoulders. Her phone buzzed, and her mind involuntarily anticipated your witty reply, or question about her day.

Instead, a picture greeted her.

It wasn’t posed or staged — just you. mid-laugh, with a goofy expression that instantly betrayed your attempt to be serious. Your hair was a bit disheveled, and the lighting was off, but the image carried a kind of authenticity Natasha couldn’t let pass. The caption reads:

@Y/n: I don’t usually do selfies, but I figured you deserved to see what you’ve been stuck talking to all this time.

It was caring. You thought about her often enough to send a picture of yourself, doing absolutely nothing important.

Natasha softly blinked at the picture, completely still as her brain worked to process what she was looking at. It wasn’t just a picture. There was trust behind it, a hidden message. She couldn’t tell where you were getting at with this action — actually, she could. She just tried to convince herself of the contrary, afraid of putting her hopes up and screwing up afterwards.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Hi. I wasn’t expecting that.

@Y/n: Hi! How are you right now?

She bites her lip, incredulously chuckling. She was almost certain that this question was supposed to come before the picture.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Better.

She was feeling better, but not just that — she was feeling.. something. Something like.. seen. Like she was remembered by someone, like she existed, for once.

And those feelings stirred something even deeper within her.

The connection was becoming deeper — it was just now that she realized that the flirting which occurred every now and then wasn’t meaningless. It had a deep impact on her, in her soul — as a friend, as a person, and mostly.. as a woman. She needed it. She needed someone to like her, to pay attention to her, to see her — intimately, closely. Even better when this someone wasn’t a superficial person, and actually one who she related to and felt like she could share this dormant part of herself.

So she decides to share a picture, too.

She sits upright on the couch, the blanket falling and pooling around her hips as she opens the camera. She switches from the back camera to the frontal one, and takes a selfie. She was wearing a simple grey tank top, so her shoulders, collarbone and neck were on display. She wasn’t smiling smiling, just briefly, just enough to make a friendly expression. It was soft, tender. Unlike the deadly Black Widow.

Thankfully, for you, she didn’t have to be that.

So she presses send, laying back again and staring at the screen in anticipation — her eyes closely watching as the send mark changed into seen, that then turned into open. It stayed like that for a long while — like you were examining the picture and weren’t ashamed of it.

It gave her goosebumps.

The typing bubble appeared again after what felt like an eternity.

@Y/n: You’re beautiful, Nat.

It was a compliment you had already used on her. But this situation? Oh, it felt so, so different. You were talking about the simplicity, the domesticity of her in this closeup, the softness.

Fueling the fire that started to burn within her on this specific day.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Just a selfie.. don't get carried away. I'm hardly camera ready.

@Y/n: It's more than a selfie for me. It made my day. If that's not camera ready, I wonder how it'll be like when you try.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Would you like to see?

Oops. She didn't think before sending this one.

@Y/n: Hell, yes.

Her mind was immersed, totally consumed by the attention you were giving her — no jokes, no hints, just shameless flirting. Standing from the couch, she walks to her small bedroom, which was already dark, gladly — she closes her door, and slumps on her bed. Seduction was her nature, she couldn't control it. Though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing right now. Reaching her hand out, she turned on her yellow dim lamp, a gentle, warm glow casting her skin, making a better environment for the incoming picture.

She reopened the camera and adjusted herself in a comfortable position — knees pulled up, her left hand resting above her stomach as she held her phone with her right one above herself — taking the photo. There was auburn red hair all over the pillows, some strands framing her face perfectly. There was skin showing — a bit of her thighs, her arms, waist.. the curves of her body leaving room for imagination.

And something that she forgot about for the longest time.

The bullet scar above her left hip.

She stared at the photo on her screen, finger hovering over the "Send" button instinctively. The lighting was perfect, the pose effortless yet captivating. Her expression was soft, relaxed — but her pupils were darkened, a hint of the sinful emotions coursing through her body. But her eyes fell to the scar.

It was unavoidable, cutting through the smooth expanse of her pale skin like a brutal reminder. The bullet scar left by the Winter Soldier, a relic of her past life, stood out glaringly in the image. Her jaw clenched as a familiar wave of self-consciousness surged through her, a feeling she thought she had buried already.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the headboard as her thumb swiped to open the editing tools. It took her less than a minute to brush the scar away, leaving her skin unmarked, untouched. Natasha tilted her head, scrutinizing the result. The photo looked… perfect. Too perfect, perhaps, but she didn’t allow herself to dwell on that.

With a deep breath, she pressed send.

Unlike your other conversations, she felt.. heavy. Like the instinct of having to show her perfect body in order to be liked was speaking louder than her rational side.

The message was delivered almost immediately, but the seconds felt drawn out, agonizingly long. When the "seen" indicator appeared, her heart raced. She bit the inside of her cheek, anticipating your response.

The reply came swiftly:

@Y/n: Wow. I’m speechless.

She smirked (bittersweetly), her thumb hesitating for only a moment before typing back.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: That’s a first. Usually, you always have something to say.

The typing bubble reappeared, and she waited, her heart thudding in her chest.

@Y/n: You make it hard to think, Nat.

Natasha felt warmth flood her cheeks, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Don’t let it go to your head.

@Y/n: I think it's too late for that.

For a moment, she wondered what you would have said if you’d seen the unedited version. Would you have found it ugly? Would you have pitied her? Or would you have admired her for wearing it like the badge of survival it was?

In her dreams, you would have worshiped it.

Before she could send anything else, you decided to take a shot on meeting her in person once again.

@Y/n: I'm sorry, I'll have to suggest. How about this: I'll find the best café within a 10-mile radius, and you can tell me if my photography is as good as my coffee recommendations.

Time passed, and the accusations against Natasha had toned down a bit. Maybe, just maybe, if she's careful enough, she can do this. The first date she'd have in what, a decade?

It was refreshing. And scary. But overall refreshing.

@Fanny_Longbottom1203: Deal. But I will be the judge in both.

The day and place was decided — it would be in Oslo, downtown — a café, where tons of people would be present. Natasha, growing up, became a master in blending in.

If fate decided to be on her side, this would be one of the best days of her life.

She tossed her phone onto the pillow beside her and laid back, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers brushed the scar again, tracing its jagged edges as if trying to understand its place in this new chapter of her life.

“Not everyone gets to see this side of me,” she murmured to herself.

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that was a warning or a promise.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

The café buzzed with the warmth of chatter, the soft clinking of ceramic mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter. It was tucked into a quiet corner of downtown Oslo, a place where the world felt comfortably distant yet close enough for her to disappear if necessary. Hours before, Natasha had dressed herself up — a burgundy dress, black tights, her usual black boots — and her jacket, of course. Her hair was naturally wavy, falling down her shoulders and back — and the makeup was simple. She wasn't a woman for makeup. But this time, she wore red lipstick and the faintest glitter eyeshadow.

She felt like a doll. It was stupid, a thing she liked to imagine how it would feel like back then — in the Red Room, where the girls wore black uniforms — grey sometimes, but always robotic, always calculated. It was a comforting feeling, which made her want to go back in time and tell little Natalia: yes! we are older now, and we are all dolled up for the date of our dreams.

Natasha arrived early — of course she did. She always did. She chose a seat by the window, her back to the wall, a vantage point where she could see everyone coming and going. Her heart wasn’t racing, but there was a slight tension in her chest. She sipped her coffee slowly, the warm bitterness grounding her as she kept an eye on the door. Then, you walked in.

Her doubting thoughts flew away the moment the green eyes landed on you.

She recognized you instantly. Your smile was smaller in person but somewhat warmer, more genuine. You scanned the room briefly before your eyes landed on her, and for a moment, Natasha thought she saw your breath catch. She softly smirks, gaze involuntarily daring.

Come and get me. This? Is all for you.

She shaked that thought away as she watched you approach her table — your clothes, your style, your body language — she scanned it all. The Black Widow wasn't an easy woman to conquer, which made her dump most of the people that tried to hit on her in the past. You were a rare exception, someone who didn't even have to try to make her heart race. It happened in it’s own.

“You made it,” Natasha said, standing to greet you, to give you a quick hug — the subtle press of your body against hers making her skin tingle. Damn it. She adjusted her dress before sitting back down. You did the same, sitting in front of her.

“Of course I did. This date was all I could think about,” you reply, eyes drinking her in, like she was the prettiest woman to exist. She truly was. “No. Let me rephrase. Seeing you was all I could think about.”

Natasha lets out a soft laugh, shifting her gaze towards the floor. She was so pale that the fact that she was blushing was, unfortunately, evident.

“Feels good to finally hear your voice,” she says, resting her chin on her hand as she stares at you. “In person. Not in audio messages or calls.”

After ordering pastries and more coffee for the both of you, the conversation flowed easily, from the usual mundane topics to little jokes that made Natasha chuckle softly. She found herself studying you more and more, the way you gestured when you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you laughed.

Eventually, the question came.

“So, what’s it like?” you asked, your voice gentle but curious. “Being an Avenger?”

Natasha paused, her fingers brushing the edge of her coffee cup. She had expected this, of course. She knew it would come up. She couldn't simply hide, not when her face had shown up on TV so many times. But if necessary, she would say that this wasn't what she wanted to be anymore. Not with you. She simply wanted to be herself around you, and not the superhero.

She wasn't Natasha who assaulted T'challa. Wasn’t the Sokovia Accords breaker. She hoped you knew by now.

“It’s… complicated,” she said after a moment, her tone measured. “Not as glamorous as it looks on TV, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You smiled. “I’m sure. But it’s still something, isn’t it? Saving the world, fighting alongside legends.”

A faint, nostalgic smile tugged at her lips. “It was something, yeah. But it wasn’t always about saving the world.” Her gaze softened as she thought back. “There was this time when Tony installed this AI in the kitchen — Friday’s cousin or something — to help us cook. It ended up burning everything it touched. Clint started calling it ‘Flamebot,’ and Steve…” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Steve tried to fix it, of course. Said it was ‘worth saving.’”

You laughed, and Natasha found herself smiling more openly. She was rambling.

“And Thor,” she continued, “he once mistook a microwave for some kind of… magical contraption. He tried to ‘summon its power’ with Mjolnir.”

“Did it work?” you teased.

Natasha smirked. “No, but we had to get a new microwave.”

The nostalgia warmed her, but it also left her feeling melancholic. She missed them. Not the missions or the battles, but the team — the messy, dysfunctional family they had become. You seemed to notice the shift in her mood and didn’t push further. Instead, you leaned in slightly, your voice soft.

“I can tell you miss them,” you said.

Natasha nodded, her walls lowering just a fraction. “Yeah. I do.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, realizing she needed some cheering up. This was supposed to be a happy day, not one to bring up sad memories. So you opened your bag, pulling out of it your camera — which made Natasha's eyes brighten up.

“You brought it!” she exclaims. “I almost forgot that you're a photographer,”

“I thought of the possibility of having to register this moment. And I was absolutely right. You look.. beautiful isn't enough to describe it,” you deeply sigh, as if surrendering to her, to this feeling of being completely in love. “Can I please take a picture of you?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “A picture of me?” she asked, her tone teasing. “You know that’s dangerous, right? What if you decide to sell it to the tabloids?”

You laughed softly, looking at her like a lovesick puppy, shaking your head. “I’m not interested in fame, Nat. Just in you.”

That made her pause, her smirk faltering for just a second. It wasn’t often she heard something so direct, so sincere. She tilted her head, studying you with those piercing green eyes, as if trying to gauge if you meant it.

“Alright,” she said finally, leaning back in her chair. “But only if it’s a good angle. No pressure.”

You grinned, lifting the camera and adjusting the settings with practiced ease. “No such thing as a bad angle with you.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the blush dusting her cheeks just got worse. She straightened up, her posture relaxed yet commanding, exuding that natural grace and power.

“Like this?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You brought your chair closer, lowering the camera for a moment. “No. Don’t pose,” you said quietly. “Just be yourself.”

That caught her off guard. Her brow furrowed slightly, and she shifted in her seat, unsure of what to do with herself for once.

“Be myself, huh?” she murmured.

You nodded, lifting the camera again. “Exactly. I don’t need the Black Widow. I want Nat.”

Her lips parted slightly at your words, and for a fleeting moment, the mask she wore every day seemed to slip. Her shoulders relaxed, her head tilted to the side, and a genuine, very shy smile spread across her face. “I-”

Before she could protest, the shutter clicked, capturing her in that rare, unguarded moment. “Perfect,” you murmured, lowering the camera and meeting her gaze.

Natasha shook her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Only the good kind,” you replied with a grin, setting the camera down.

She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand again as she studied you. “So, do I get to see it? Or are you keeping me in suspense?”

You turned the camera around, showing her the photo on the screen. Her expression softened as she took it in — the warmth in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head, the way the light framed her face, her rosy cheeks. It wasn’t just a picture. It was a glimpse of who she really was, beyond the layers of secrecy and survival. It was simply her, away from espionage, having coffee with her date.

Her unforgettable trip to Norway.

“It’s… good,” she said quietly, her voice almost hesitant.

“Good?” you ask. “It’s stunning. Just like my model.”

Oh, that…

The way you emphasized the word ‘my’.. the way you were making her feel.. actually precious. She was trapped.

“Alright,” she said, sitting back. “You’ve had your fun. Now tell me, do I at least get a copy?”

You laughed, nodding. “Of course. But only if you promise to go easy on me when I take more later.”

She smirks, her confidence returning. “We’ll see about that.”

As the evening wore, the sky showed a beautiful indigo, stars twinkling just like the sparkles in both of your sets of eyes. Natasha allowed herself to relax. To bask in this kind of normalcy that she never had the chance to experience. She had seen a lot, lived a lot. She knew what people could do in response to fear. She saw war and hatred, she saw coldness and cruelty. But from now on, she could live in a lighter way — like her heart was finally at peace.

“Should we get going?” you asked as the people also started to leave, standing and offering her a hand.

Natasha hesitated for half a second before taking it. Your touch was warm, steady, grounding, and promising. As you stepped outside, the cool air of Oslo wrapped around you. The city lights flickered like stars. Natasha felt a strange sense of calm. When she felt your arm enveloping her shoulders, her breath hitched, but she didn’t let it show — leaning into you gently.

“Where to now?” she asked, glancing at you.

“Well, the hotel, if you’re up for it,” you replied, your tone playful but not pushing.

That playfulness was a disguise for more surprises that awaited her back into the hotel room you were hosted in.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

When you unlocked the door to the hotel you're staying in, Natasha followed you inside, her steps hesitant, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The space was warm and inviting, even if it wasn't a fixed place — especially after knowing you for a good while now — tons of polaroids laying across the bed, portraits, some funko pops that you bought recently. But what caught her attention almost immediately was the bouquet of flowers resting on the counter, tied together with a simple ribbon.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned to you, her lips parting in surprise. She didn't even have time to look around the place. “What’s this?” she asked softly, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and vulnerability.

You stepped past her, picking up the bouquet and holding it out to her with a smile. “These are for you,” you said.

Natasha blinked, momentarily stunned. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the bouquet, her touch delicate, as though the flowers were something precious. She examined them quietly — deep purple irises mingled with soft yellow sunflowers and a few sprigs of white heather.

“So you’re a hopeless romantic.. you didn’t take them to the café. What made you so sure I would come back to your place?”

You shrugged, leaning casually against the counter. “I wasn’t sure,” you admitted, meeting her gaze with an honesty that made her pause. “But I hoped you would. And, well, I wanted them to be a surprise. It felt more personal this way.”

Natasha glanced down at the flowers again, her fingers gently brushing over the petals. “You really thought this through, didn’t you?”

“I thought you were worth the effort,” you said simply, the sincerity in your voice making her blink rapidly, as though she was trying to process it.

Natasha smiled as she shook her head lightly, trying to dismiss the overwhelming feeling creeping up on her. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You chuckled, stepping closer. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She tilted her head, her green eyes studying you with a mixture of curiosity and warmth. “It is,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” you interrupted softly, stepping closer. “You deserve something beautiful. Something that shows how incredible you are, even if you can’t always see it yourself.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The Avenger, the unshakable spy, was speechless.

Natasha turned to face you fully, the bouquet forgotten for a moment as she searched your face. It was almost desperate, how she tried to find reassurance, anything that told her that her past wasn't a problem. “You… you don’t even know the half of it,” she murmured.

“Maybe not,” you admitted. “But I want to. Every part of it, Nat. I want to know you.”

For a long moment, she just stared at you, as if trying to decide whether she could let her walls down one more time. Talking through an app was easier. In person felt way too serious. And then, with a deep, trembling breath, she set the bouquet back on the table and closed the distance between you.

She walked with determination, her chest lightly touching yours as her hands found their way to the back of your neck. Her fingernails softly scratched in between the hair strands. She didn't know what to say — she didn't want to say anything. In this very second, she simply wanted to feel. Feel what she never had the privilege to feel as the years passed, because yes, this felt like a privilege. She stood on her tiptoes to press herself closer, doe green eyes pleading.

They told you everything, and you didn't need to be passed the message twice. Your right hand cupped her cheek as the left one wrapped around her waist, bringing her even closer.

She was an angel. Not a deadly spy. A sweet angel to be taken care of. To have her needs satisfied and tears wiped away.

As Natasha felt you responding, she allowed her eyes to close.. basking in the darkness, wanting to be enveloped by this only one sensation. This soft, intense sensation of your lips against hers, moving in a way that wasn't rushed, but wasn't too deliberate either — your hands gripping her waist and bunching the fabric of her jacket, maneuvering her back against the counter. Holding onto your shoulders, she sat on the countertop, welcoming your body between her legs. The kiss lasted. She softly whimpered as she felt your tongue brushing against her bottom lip, asking for entrance, for more of her. And she allowed it. Her head tilted to the side, moving in sync with you — as your tongues danced, a dance she hadn’t discovered before.

Needing air, you pull away, foreheads resting against one another as you deeply inhale, messily. It was torture to stop kissing her, she was good. But air was necessary. Calming down, your arms circle her waist. A smile makes its way to your lips as you see the state she was in. Flushed. And…

“I think your lipstick is a little smudged,”

Natasha felt that — every nerve of her skin was burning, including the parts with the messy makeup. She lets out a huff of air and clears her throat, trying to find her voice so she could respond.

“That was…” she whispers, her hands cradling your jaw. “Wow,”

“You are ‘wow’,” you whisper, using your thumb to wipe away the red lipstick from the corners of her lips, fixing it. “You are perfect,”

“I'm not that- I'm not,” she nervously giggled, humming as you finished fixing her up. She shifted on the countertop, her legs pressing around your hips, as if afraid of you leaving.

“I wish I could give you my set of eyes,” your hands travel down to her thighs, feeling the slightly rough fabric of her tights, but that didn't make her skin any less smoother to the touch.

Her dress was basically all the way up her hips at this point, something she hadn't paid the necessary attention to, due being too busy making out with you — and in the pit of her stomach, a small flicker of panic started rising. This was reckless, so reckless. It is not like she didn’t think of the possibility of things escalating while coming back to the hotel with you, but in her head, she would have more control over the situation — and with that, manage to keep her secrets uncovered.

But she didn’t. Her body was reacting in its own and her mind was cloudy. She had zero control.

Before you could even touch the zipper of her dress, Natasha froze. Her breathing hitched — barely noticeable if you weren’t paying attention, but you were. Her hands, which had been so confident just moments ago, trembled as they pressed gently against your chest.

“Wait,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if it might shatter if spoken any louder. “Just.. give me a second,” she muttered, avoiding your gaze as she detangled from your grasp, getting off the counter and hurrying to the bathroom.

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the quiet room. Natasha leaned against the sink, gripping its edges so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her reflection stared back at her — flushed cheeks, wide eyes, red marks staining the corners of her lips.

Why did she have to choose a matte lipstick?

Her fingers brushed against her side, over the spot where the bullet scar lay. She had hidden it from you before, in that photo. It had seemed harmless at the time — a small deception to preserve the image of herself she wanted you to see. But now, in the raw intimacy of this moment, it felt like a betrayal.

She turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto her face in an attempt to calm the storm raging inside her. She couldn’t lose this moment — not to her own fears, not to a scar that was just one more piece of her long and painful past. But how could she explain it? How could she show you this part of her without ruining everything?

Natasha pressed her hands to her face, inhaling deeply. It’s just a scar, she told herself. It doesn’t define me. It doesn’t change who I am.

Except that it does. And a small tear rolls down her cheek.

You’re not in the Red Room anymore, she reminded herself, gripping the sink harder. And this person… they’re different. They don’t expect you to be perfect. They just want you.

The doubt, the fears that you managed to keep away from her in the past month, came back to her — only a thousand times more painful.

Regardless, Natasha didn't have any more time to think, before she heard the doorknob turning, the damn door she didn't lock opening. She kept her head low, her body stiff as she continued to hold onto the sink. You could see her reflection in the mirror clearly. The fact that she was silently shedding tears.

“You're crying,” you state quietly, taking baby steps towards her.

“And you're bold,” she chuckles, the sound a mixture of tears and sarcasm. She sniffles, using her arm to wipe her nose. “Entering like that.”

“You're crying.” you shake your head, once again standing face to face with her. You reach out your hands and cup her tear stained cheeks. “What's wrong?”

“I…” she debated what to tell you. That she was afraid of physical intimacy since she was young? Or that she hid a crucial thing about her body all this time? “I don't know-”

“You’re hiding something from me and are afraid I’m gonna hate you?” you inquire, voice serious — not mocking, not pressuring.

What?

Her eyes go wide instantly, the tears stopping. You wipe them away from her cheeks, expression softening again as you prepared to explain yourself. “You’re part of a New Yorker superheroes team. There was absolutely nothing that spoke about your personality in SparkMatch, which is expected, Nat. I’m aware that there’s a lot that I don’t know about you. I know where I’m getting myself into.”

“For the longest time, all I wanted was company. Someone to talk to, to listen to me, and that I could listen to them. Someone to see me,” she quietly confesses, leaning her cheeks into your palms. “You did just that. You’re that person.. you filled a huge void in me. You saved me in more ways that you could ever know.”

“I’m so grateful for that.” you lean closer, pressing a lingering kiss against her forehead. She shyly wrapped her arms around your waist, her eyes searching yours once more.

“It’s not just that…” she adds, her breath hitching. She was now determined to continue from where you left off on the entrance counter. “I longed- I long for.. touches, and..”

“And closeness,” you complete, head dipping down and tucking itself into the crook of her neck. “Geez, you smell delicious,”

“It’s… Twilly D’Hermès,” breathless, Natasha speaks, a small hint of pride in her tone as she spoke about her moisturizing cream. “My body lotion,”

It wasn’t cheap, but she liked to spoil herself sometimes. It was also great to deal with the constant bruises and cuts on her skin. Your brows raise in surprise, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips. Natasha could feel the warmth of your breath on her neck, a surge of happiness and ecstasy washing over her.

“That’s.. pretty luxurious, one can say.”

“Can’t a woman spoil herself sometimes?” she retorts — interrupted by a gasp that left her as your lips pressed against her neck. Her eyes flutter shut, her hands holding onto your arms as she did her best to keep talking. “B-Besides, years of bruises and burns require good skincare.”

“I see,” you hum, nuzzling into her, into the spot behind her ear. She felt soft today. Now you knew the reason. After staying like that for a while, you pull back, looking into her eyes with a gaze that showed admiration, respect and concern towards her comfort. “Can I?”

She deeply inhales, feeling you reach for her dress again — only more mindfully now. Shrugging her jacket off her shoulders, she places it next to her on the sink and nods.

She was prepared for the question.

“Okay, hold on.” you kneel down, beginning to untie her boots, catching her by surprise. You remove them and place them aside, before slowly pulling down her tights. “Damn. Why did you have to wear something so complicated?”

“I wanted to feel beautiful,” she quietly chuckles, allowing you to get rid of the excessive fabric on her body.

So, it's time for the dress. You got up to your feet and slid your palm up her spine, holding onto the zipper and then pulling it down. Natasha was expectant, self aware, but mainly, consumed by her desire — finally awake again.

“I'll make you feel beautiful,” you nod, pushing the dress straps off her shoulders and sliding them down her arms.

“You already do.” She breathes.

She doesn't stop you from getting her off the dress. But when it stops below her hips, she tenses up. That's because she sees you freezing. To look at her. It's strange, to have someone look at her body with no apparent emotion. You didn't look at her as if she were a prize to win — an object, or a weapon. Helping her step off the dress, you toss it aside on the floor. Now nothing was disturbing you from taking her in. Her black underwear. Her toned muscles — which you assumed were from years of workout. And her scars. Cuts, a few small keloids, and the bullet scar.

“You didn’t have to hide this from me.” you breathe, dropping to your knees once more as you held her by the hips. She found herself leaning against the sink’s counter, breathing ragged, every nerve of her body buzzing in anticipation. “Makes you even more gorgeous.”

“I—”

“You're fucking gorgeous.” you hiss, kissing above the place that once had a bullet in.

Yup. Her dreams came true.

“Please,” she murmurs, not knowing how to vocalize what she wanted. But the heat pooling between her thighs told you everything.

Your lips make a path from her hip down to her pelvic bone, right hand grabbing her thigh and putting it on your shoulder — coaxing a gasp out of her. Your palm covers her scar, as though it were something precious about herself — making her feel safe, above everything. Natasha, for a moment, almost lost her balance — having to hold her weight with one foot — as your pointer finger hooked around the soaked fabric of her panties, pulling it to the side. You gave her one look. One look before diving in.

You are no longer alone.

She took the message. And her world exploded.

Your tongue working on her — licking past her folds, tasting her — as if committing to memory, and not just using her — her slender fingers tangling into your hair, pulling your head closer to her core, soft moans leaving her mouth as if there was no tomorrow.

“Yes,” She gasps, her hips bucking, seeking more of the kitten licks you showered her clitoris with. “Don't stop.”

None of her sexual experiences had been good in the past — not in the slightest. So having something so good, so pleasuring — it was truly her first.

In the Norwegian hotel, Natasha was more Avenged than she ever was with the Avengers. In the end of the night, she ended up with you on the bed — your clothes making each other company on the floor, as she lost herself — in your body, your scent, your hands on her,

and your love for her.

♡₊˚ 📱・₊✧

You were tucked under the covers when the bathroom's door opened — the hot steam of her recent shower now dispersing and mingling with the air. You sat up, leaning against the headboard as you watched her with a smile.

Natasha walked towards you, the white hotel's towel in her hands, drying her damp hair. She was wearing a t-shirt you lent her, which was probably three times her size. She was smiling. Happily.

Before climbing back onto the bed, she absentmindedly placed the wet towel on an armchair. She gently settled onto your lap, straddling your hips, her head instantly nesting on your shoulder.

“Hi, baby.” you embrace her.

“If I have to leave the country, for any reasons,” she says, her hands tracing random patterns on your back. “Will you come with me?”

“I'll go anywhere with you.” you reply, voice unwavering.

She released the air she didn't know she was holding, and allows herself to relax her sore body. She nuzzled closer as you played with her still damp hair.

Maybe dating apps weren't so bad, after all. If she ever saw her team or Tony again, she would thank him for making her install it.

“Oh, and by the way,”

Natasha whispers, finally. Probably, you were aware. But it was one more thing about her true self she wanted you to know.

“My name is Natalia.”

[psformybss]

The Call

series masterlist

pairings: drew starkey x secret fiancee!reader

warnings: none

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︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

The South Carolina sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light over the Outer Banks set. Drew stood with Madelyn and Chase near the trailers, laughing about something stupid that had happened during rehearsal. The cast had only been filming for a few weeks, still in the early stages of getting to know each other, and while the group was bonding quickly, Drew remained somewhat of a mystery. He was friendly, easygoing, but undeniably private.

Midway through Chase’s story, Drew’s phone buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out, his expression immediately changed—his usual neutral expression softened, a small, unmistakable smile tugging at his lips. Without a word, he excused himself, stepping away toward a tree on the outskirts of set.

Madelyn and Chase exchanged a look.

“Who’s got him smiling like that?” Madelyn mused, raising an eyebrow.

“No clue,” Chase said, crossing his arms. “That’s the first time I’ve seen him actually look happy to get a phone call.”

Under the tree, Drew answered, his voice instantly warm. “Hey, baby.”

Madelyn’s head snapped toward Chase. “Baby? Oh, we have to figure out who that is.”

Meanwhile, Drew listened intently as Y/N spoke, excitement bubbling through the phone.

“I think I found the one, Drew,” she said, practically breathless. “I know we’ve been looking for months, and nothing in L.A. felt right, but the second I saw this place, I knew.”

Drew’s lips twitched up. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes! It’s in Charleston, close to everything, but still kinda tucked away. And it has this huge wraparound porch that I know you’re gonna love.”

Drew hummed, already intrigued. They had spent months searching for a place in L.A., convinced that was where they needed to be for work. But nothing ever felt like home. Then they moved to Charleston for Outer Banks, and suddenly, everything just clicked. The slower pace, the charm of the city—it felt right in a way L.A. never had.

“Tell me more,” he said, shifting against the tree.

“Okay, okay,” Y/N gushed. “It has an open kitchen with so much counter space, and the master bedroom has these huge windows that let in all this natural light. And—” She hesitated for a second before continuing, a little softer, “There’s an extra room. Could be an office… or, you know, a nursery one day.”

Drew’s chest tightened in the best way possible. “You already planning for that?” he teased.

Y/N huffed. “Hey, you were the one who said you wanted at least two kids.”

He chuckled. “I did say that.”

She grinned through the phone. “So? Can I call the realtor?”

Drew exhaled, already knowing his answer. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Let’s do it.”

“Wait—really?”

“Really. I trust you.”

Y/N let out an excited squeal, making Drew laugh.

“Oh my God, okay, I’ll send you the listing right now,” she said quickly. “You’re gonna love it, I swear. And—oh! It has a backyard. We can finally get a dog.”

Drew shook his head, amused. “Knew that was coming.”

“You promised me a dog.”

“I did,” he admitted. “Guess I gotta make good on that promise now.”

Y/N hummed in satisfaction. “Damn right.”

Drew leaned against the tree, lowering his voice as he spoke. “Love you, you know that?”

“I know,” she said, a soft smile in her tone. “Love you more.”

Drew stayed there for a moment after the call ended, staring at his screen, still smiling. He was already picturing the house, picturing them in it—waking up together in that sunlit bedroom, cooking in that big kitchen, sitting on that wraparound porch with a dog curled up at their feet.

When he turned back toward set, Chase and Madelyn were waiting, arms crossed, identical grins on their faces.

“So,” Chase started, drawing out the word. “Who was that?”

Drew glanced at them, unimpressed. “Why do you care?”

Madelyn scoffed. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you walked away like a lovesick puppy and have been smiling for the past five minutes? We didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”

Drew, completely unbothered, slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I don’t.”

Madelyn frowned. “But—”

“I have a fiancée.”

Silence.

Chase blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Drew smirked at their stunned faces before casually walking back toward set. “C’mon, we’ve got a scene to film.”

Madelyn and Chase stood frozen for another few seconds before Madelyn turned to Chase.

“What the hell?”

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

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i hope y’all like it! i have more ideas for this pairing but im also taking requests!

ps. this is my first post ever in tumblr, i’ve had an account on here for a long time but i never felt like posting until now so give me some grace as i try to figure out how everything works (this is lowkey harder than i thought lol)

[hrrysangels]

#ONSET - HS

She’s used to sharing Harry with the world but sharing him with his co-star on a film set? That’s different. The smirks, the lingering touches, the chemistry that looks a little too convincing it all gets under her skin. She tries to hide it, play it cool, but Harry sees right through her. What follows is a moment both heated and tender Harry pulling her into his arms, reminding her exactly who he comes home to. In his trailer, away from the lights and scripts, he makes it clear: no one else matters. No cameras. No performances. Just him. Just her. Always her.

warnings: smut smut smut

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

Y/N hadn’t planned to spend the entire afternoon on set, but when Harry mentioned that today was one of the big shoot days “the scene” as he called it with a glint in his eye she couldn’t resist.

She knew how much this role meant to him. From the moment he got the script, he’d been walking around the apartment quoting lines under his breath, talking about the director like she was a genius, gushing over how the story was different, raw, important. He’d worked hard for this one. She was proud of him really, truly proud but nothing quite prepared her for what it would feel like to watch him perform, live and up close.

Especially that scene.

It wasn’t scheduled until later in the day, so she spent the first hour watching him laugh with crew members, run through lines, and transform before her eyes the moment the cameras started rolling. He was magnetic on set, confident in a way that made her heart tug with admiration. She could see why people loved working with him. The way he slipped into character so fluid, so natural was a kind of magic she hadn’t seen in him before.

Then Florence stepped onto the scene.

Y/N liked Florence. Or at least, she thought she did. They’d met a few times cast parties, casual drinks after a read-through. Florence was kind, sharp, charming,gorgeous. A phenomenal actress. But watching her walk toward Harry, her steps sure and practiced, something in Y/N twisted tight. It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t fair. But it was real.

They were filming a moment of intimacy not just a kiss, but one of those slow, breathless, tension heavy kisses that said everything words couldn’t. And Harry was good. Too good. The way his hand slipped around Florence’s waist, the way he leaned in like gravity had chosen her, like there was no other place on earth he’d rather be it punched the air right out of Y/N’s lungs

She reminded herself it was acting. It was all pretend. She’d seen the script. She knew. But knowing didn’t stop her skin from prickling, or her stomach from flipping like she’d missed a step on the stairs.

When the director finally called cut, Harry grinned, full of adrenaline and pride. He ruffled his curls back and jogged over to her, still glowing with the energy of the scene. He kissed her cheek, then her forehead, wrapping an arm around her waist as if the last few minutes hadn’t unsettled something inside her.

“You saw that?” he asked, his voice low, sweet, full of excitement. “Was it okay? Did it work?”

“You were… great,” she said, forcing a small smile. Her throat felt dry

He kissed her temple. “Glad you came today.”

She nodded, eyes flicking toward Florence, who was laughing with a makeup artist just a few feet away. “Yeah. Me too.”

Harry didn’t seem to notice the subtle shift in her. He kept talking, telling her how the lighting was perfect, how Florence nailed her beats, how real it felt. And that was the part that got her how real it felt. He said it like it was something to be proud of. Like it was the best compliment he could give the scene. And maybe it was. Maybe that was the mark of a great actor.

But it still made something curl up inside her chest and shrink.

She wasn’t normally a jealous person. Not with Harry. Not with anyone. But today, watching someone else get that version of him the intensity, the intimacy, the softness even if it was just for the cameras, it left her feeling a little quiet.

She leaned into his side as he kept talking, trying to push it down. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t real.

But the strange ache in her chest told her otherwise.

They walked in silence for a while, weaving through equipment, set pieces, and scattered crew. The sun had started to dip behind the studio buildings, casting everything in a soft amber glow. Harry held her hand as they walked his thumb brushing slow, absent-minded circles against her skin but something had shifted. She wasn’t talking. Wasn’t smiling like she usually did when they were wrapped up in each other’s space.

It wasn’t until they reached the quieter stretch between set and his trailer that he really felt it. The tension humming just beneath her skin. The way her fingers weren’t quite curling back into his.

He tightened his grip a little, slowing their pace.

“What’s going on, love?” he asked gently, turning his head toward her. His voice was low, warm but his accent thickened the way it always did when he was being soft with her. “Are you okay?”

She forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”

But he didn’t let go of her hand. He just watched her, brow furrowed, waiting and eventually, she exhaled, a slow, shaky breath like she’d been holding something in for too long.

“I’m probably just being overdramatic,” she said, eyes downcast. “You were perfect, Harry. Like, really… perfect.”

The way she said it made something click.

Ah.

It hit him all at once — the quiet mood, the hesitations, the way she’d barely looked him in the eye since the scene ended. His chest swelled with a complicated mix of guilt, affection, and something a little smug. She was jealous. Not in an insecure way. Not in a petty way. Just enough to make her overthink, to make her feel things she couldn’t quite say out loud.

And God, he kind of loved it.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile not mocking, not gloating. Just touched. Because the truth was, as much as he loved acting, as much as he’d thrown himself into the character and the scene, there wasn’t a single part of him that felt anything close to what he felt for the girl beside him.

He stopped walking and turned to face her, still holding her hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, catching her chin with his thumb and tilting her face up until their eyes met. “It’s not overdramatic. You’re allowed to feel things.”

She tried to look away, but he didn’t let her.

“You know it’s all pretend, yeah?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Everything that happened in that scene every kiss, every look it’s scripted. It’s not real. This…” His forehead touched hers, breath warm between them. “This is real.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into the space between them, her shoulders relaxing slightly. His hand slipped to her waist, anchoring her to him.

“I just… I don’t know,” she whispered. “Seeing you like that, with someone else, even if it’s acting—it just did something to me.”

Harry nodded. “It did something to me too.”

She looked up, confused.

“Made me realize how much I hate having to pretend it’s someone else,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “When it’s always you in my head.”

Her breath caught.

The moment hung there quiet, charged, delicate before he kissed her, slow and sure, right there in the fading light. Not for show. Not because the cameras were rolling. Just because he needed to. Because she was his, and he wanted her to feel it.

Harry opened the door to the trailer with one hand, the other still firmly on her waist. His touch was gentle but guiding, like he was anchoring her, making sure she didn’t drift too far into whatever storm she’d been stuck in since the scene. She stepped in ahead of him, eyes adjusting to the dim light as he pulled the door closed behind them with a soft click.

The air inside was warm, faintly stuffy in that familiar way small spaces get — thick with his cologne and the faint scent of leftover coffee. His jacket was slung over the back of the couch, script pages scattered across the counter beside a half-drunk bottle of water.

Harry’s hand never left her waist. He moved behind her, fitting his chest against her back as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her hoodie, just enough to graze bare skin.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, voice low, close to her ear.

She leaned into him but didn’t say anything. Not yet. Her arms were still crossed over her chest, not defensive, but not fully relaxed either. He could feel it — the hesitation, the heat still simmering under her skin.

“I don’t want to talk about Florence,” she said softly.

He nodded against her shoulder, his curls brushing her cheek. “Then don’t. This isn’t about her. It’s about you.”

She turned in his arms slowly, her eyes finding his in the muted light. There was something in her gaze — not anger, not sadness exactly, but a flicker of vulnerability she didn’t usually show.

“I know it was acting. I do,” she whispered. “But watching it… it felt like someone else got a version of you I didn’t recognize. And I hated it.”

Harry’s jaw tightened slightly, but only because he understood. Because if the roles were reversed, he’d probably feel the exact same way. Maybe worse.

“You don’t have to explain it” he said gently. “You don’t need to pretend it didn’t sting.”

His hands slid around her back, pulling her closer until her body met his fully, the soft cotton of her hoodie pressing against the firm lines of his chest. Her head tilted back just slightly, lips parting like she might speak but then he dipped down and kissed her.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t demanding. It was a slow, grounding kiss the kind that reminded her of who he was when no one else was watching. His lips moved with quiet urgency, but his hands stayed steady, cupping her face, his thumbs brushing the apples of her cheeks.

“You know it’s always you, right?” he said between kisses, forehead pressed to hers. “When I’m in character, when I’m faking it I’m still thinking of you.”

She nodded, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. Her hoodie rode up slightly with the movement, revealing the soft curve of her hip. His hands found her there again, thumbs dragging slow, grounding circles.

The silence between them wasn’t heavy anymore it was charged, intimate, brimming with words neither of them needed to say.

He backed her gently toward the small couch tucked in the corner, eyes never leaving hers. And when the backs of her knees hit the cushion, he slowed them down, resting his hands on either side of her hips.

“This okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a breath.

She looked up at him, eyes glassy but clear. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It’s more than okay.”

He smiled, small and tender, before kissing her again deeper this time, like he was reminding her that no camera could ever capture what they had. And even in the quiet, cramped space of the trailer, it felt like the whole world had narrowed down to just them.

The trailer felt smaller now, even with the door closed behind them. The quiet was thick with anticipation the kind that left her heart racing and her breath shallow. Harry stood in front of her, his hands on her hips, the heat between them undeniable. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes, as if asking for permission to keep moving, to keep pushing her toward this.

“My girl,” he murmured, the words low and reverent as he leaned in to kiss her again. His lips were soft, slow, and he let the kiss linger before pulling back just enough to study her face, to read her expression. “Let me take care of you, love.”

Her breath hitched, her hands sliding up his chest to rest around his neck as she drew him closer, needing him against her. It was like she couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t feel him enough like there was a hunger inside her she couldn’t name.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice a quiet promise as he kissed along her jaw. “You’re mine, yeah? Just say the word, and I’ll make sure you forget about anything else.”

His hands moved with purpose, sliding beneath her hoodie, fingertips grazing the soft skin of her back. He kissed her neck, then her shoulder, the light pressure of his lips making her shiver with anticipation. She felt a flutter of warmth in her stomach, her breath catching in her throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed against her skin.

She whimpered softly, unable to hide how much his words affected her, how they stoked the fire that had been burning low in her all day.

His hands shifted, finding her waist again, pulling her body flush against his. He could feel the way she trembled beneath him, the way her pulse raced, and it only made him more determined to show her just how much he adored her.

“My girl,” he said again, the words like a sweet, slow drug. “No one else. Not ever. Just you.”

She tilted her head back, closing her eyes as he gently lifted her, guiding her onto the bed. He hovered over her, his gaze never leaving hers, making sure she was okay with every move.

“You want this?” he asked, the question soft but filled with the weight of what he was offering. “Want me to make you feel good?”

The sincerity in his voice, the raw need and tenderness that threaded through it, made her heart skip a beat. She nodded, too overwhelmed to say much more.

He kissed her again, this time with more urgency, the fire between them escalating. But even in his need, he never lost that focus on her on her pleasure, on her feeling loved.

“I’m not rushing this, love,” he murmured against her lips, as his hands began exploring, slow and sure. “I’m going to make you feel every second of this. Every touch.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, the warmth of his touch seeping deep into her skin, and she could only hold onto him as he worked to make her feel cherished, loved, and, above all, seen.

Harry's hands slid under her hoodie, fingertips grazing the soft skin of her stomach. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, like he was worshipping every inch of her. She shivered, arching into him, craving more.

"You're perfect," he murmured, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. "So fucking perfect."

She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer. "Please," she whispered, voice trembling with need. "I want to feel you."

He groaned at her words, hips grinding against hers as his hands slid higher, cupping her breasts through her bra. "God, you drive me crazy," he breathed, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they pebbled beneath the fabric.

She gasped, back arching softly as pleasure shot through her. "Off," she demanded, tugging at his shirt. "I need to feel your skin."

Harry sat back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before quickly removing her hoodie as well. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her. Standing there in her black lace bra.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, leaning down to capture one of her nipples between his teeth through the lace. She cried out, fingers tugging at his hair as he suckled and nipped at the sensitive bud.

He took his time with her, exploring every inch of exposed skin with his hands and mouth. He unhooked her bra with a deft flick of his fingers before pulling it away, revealing her breasts to his hungry gaze.

"Look at you," he said roughly, cupping the soft mounds in his palms. "So fucking beautiful." He lowered his head, licking and sucking at her nipples until she was squirming him, desperate for more. He gently sat her on the couch

"Harry," she gasped, hands fisting in his hair. "I need you."

He kissed his way down her stomach, getting on his knee in front of her his fingers hooking in the waistband of her jeans. "Not yet, love," he murmured.

He unbuttoned her jeans slowly, dragging the zipper down with maddening slowness before tugging them off her legs. She was left in just her panties, pulse racing as she watched him drink in the sight of her, sitting on the couch in nothing but a scrap of lace

"You have no idea what you do to me," he said roughly, trailing a finger along the edge of her panties. "The things I want to do to you."

She whimpered, hips lifting as if seeking friction. "Then do them," she breathed. "Please."

He grinned, before he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and slowly dragged them down her legs. His gaze zeroed in on the glistening flesh between her thighs, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Fuck," he groaned, sliding a finger through her slick folds. "You're so wet for me already."

She bucked against his touch, desperate for more. "Harry, please," she begged.

Shifting between her legs, he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh before trailing open-mouthed kisses up to her core. She nearly screamed as his tongue made contact, licking a slow stripe up her slit before circling her clit.

"Oh god," she moaned, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sheets. "Don't stop."

He growled against her flesh, the vibrations making her see stars. He licked and sucked and fucked her with his tongue until she was a writhing mess beneath him, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"Come for me," he demanded, sliding two fingers inside her tight heat as his tongue continued its relentless assault on her clit. "Let go for me, love."

It was too much. The sensation of his fingers pumping in and out of her, his tongue flicking against that sensitive bundle of nerves - she shattered with a cry, coming apart at the seams as pleasure crashed over her in waves.

Harry worked her through it, gentling his touch as she floated down from her high. He kissed his way back up her body, taking a moment to lave attention on each breast before reaching her mouth. She could taste herself on his lips and it only spurred her arousal higher.

"Fuck me," she demanded, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him closer. "I need you inside me."

He groaned, grinding his hard length against her aching core. "Patience," he said softly. "I'm going to make this good for you."

He reached down, fumbling with his belt and zipper until his cock sprang free. She licked her lips at the sight, desperate to feel him stretching her, filling her.

"I want to feel all of you."

Harry's eyes darkened with lust. "You sure?" he asked hoarsely.

She nodded frantically, needing him more than she needed air. "Please," she begged.

That was all the encouragement he needed. With a grunt, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt inside her tight heat. They both cried out at the sensation, bodies trembling with the force of it.

"Fuck," he gasped, staying still for a moment to let her adjust. "You feel incredible."

She clenched around him, relishing the feel of his thick cock pulsing inside her. "Move," she urged. "I need you to move."

“needy little thing aren’t you” he teased softly in his British accent

He did, setting a steady pace as he rocked into her again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small space, mixing with their moans and pants.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, hips never faltering as he captured her lips in a searing kiss. She met him stroke for stroke, relishing the feel of him heavy and hard inside her.

"I love you," he gasped between kisses. "Fuck, I love you so much."

He groaned into her mouth, increasing his pace. "I love you too," She panted. "More than anything."

They moved together in perfect sync, lost to everything but each other. Harry could feel his orgasm building at the base of his spine, but he held off, determined to bring her with him.

He reached between them, finding her clit and rubbing tight circles around it with his thumb. "Come for me again," he urged, voice strained with effort. "I want to feel you come apart around my cock."

His words were her undoing. With a scream of his name, she came hard, clenching around him like a vice. It was enough to send Harry over the edge as well and he followed soon after with a guttural groan, spilling himself deep inside her.

They collapsed together in a sweaty tangle of limbs, chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. Harry pressed soft kisses to her face, brushing sweat-dampened hair off her forehead.

"That was..." she trailed off, unable to find the words.

"Amazing," he supplied with a grin. "Incredible. Mind-blowing. Life-changing."

She laughed breathlessly, pulling him down for a kiss. "All of the above," she agreed.

They laid there for a long moment, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Harry stayed on top of her on that couch careful not to lay his full body weight on her

"I meant what I said," he murmured into her hair. "I love you. And I know I'm yours - only yours - always."

She pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I love you more," she whispered back.

They stayed like that for a while longer, basking in the intimacy and closeness of the moment. The rest of the world faded away until it was just the two of them, tangled together in their little haven

[rafessecret]

⋆˚࿔ trailer¡park reader && rafe cameron

TOO DUMB TO THINK.

The air is thick with smoke, hazy tendrils curling through the dimly lit room, clinging to your skin, seeping into your lungs. The couch beneath you is worn, springs digging into your back as Rafe fucks you into it, each brutal thrust shoving you deeper into the cushions. Your body feels weightless, boneless, a pliant thing made only for his use. Everything is slow, syrupy, your mind slipping between the cracks of consciousness, drowning in the pleasure he forces on you. Your limbs are slack, useless, your mouth parted in a silent moan, eyes heavy-lidded and unfocused as you stare at the ceiling, watching the smoke swirl above you.

Barry leans against the doorframe, a blunt dangling from his lips, watching like he’s studying a piece of art. The ember glows as he inhales, the scent mixing with the musk of sweat and sex. His eyes are hooded, dark, flickering between where Rafe splits you open and the ruined expression on your face. He exhales slowly, smoke pouring past his lips, lazy amusement curling at the edges of his mouth. ❝Fuck, man, she’s just a dumb little slut for you, huh?❞ His voice is thick, dripping with something that makes your stomach clench, makes your thighs tremble where they’re spread wide, forced open by Rafe’s unforgiving grip.

Rafe laughs, the sound sharp, teeth flashing in the dim light as he drags his fingers down your spine, pressing into your skin like he wants to leave bruises, wants to mark you from the inside out. ❝You don’t know how good she is until you’re the one making her scream, Barry.❞ His voice is rough, strained, pleasure thick in every syllable. His hips snap forward, burying himself to the hilt, making you jolt, making your back arch, a wrecked whimper spilling from your lips. You’re so far gone, teetering on the edge of oblivion, floating in the space between pleasure and nothingness, between reality and something dreamlike, something deeper.

Barry exhales another cloud of smoke, the glow of the blunt flickering as he grins, sharp and knowing. ❝She looks like a fuckin’ doll, man. You see how pretty she is like this? All fucked out and dumb for you? ❞ He steps closer, the heat of his presence pressing against your skin, making your lashes flutter. His knuckles brush over your cheek, slow and deliberate, his touch light but condescending. ❝Are you even still in there, doll? Or did Rafe already fuck you stupid? ❞

Your lips part, a breathless sound escaping, but no words come, only the softest whimper, the barest acknowledgement that you can still hear them, still feel everything, even if you can’t move, can’t think, can’t do anything but take what Rafe gives you. Barry chuckles, dragging the blunt across his lips before tapping ash onto the floor, like this is nothing more than some casual conversation, like you aren’t laid out, trembling and wrecked between them.

Rafe grips your chin, forcing your head back, making you look at him, his pupils blown wide, sweat beading at his temples, golden skin glowing in the dim light. ❝Still with us, sweetheart?❞ His voice is sweet and teasing, but there’s a cruel edge to it, a twisted sort of satisfaction in the way you struggle to focus, to hold onto the fraying threads of lucidity. He leans down, his lips brushing against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you, just lets his breath fan over your mouth, lets you chase the contact, lets you beg without words. ❝God, you’re so fucking pretty like this. Can’t even fight it, can you? ❞ You shake your head, or at least you think you do, but your body doesn’t really belong to you anymore. It belongs to them. To him. To the hands that grip you too tight, to the mouths that spill filthy words into your ears, to the eyes that devour every little reaction you give, drinking it up like something sacred.

Barry hums, the sound low, appreciative. ❝She’s fuckin’ ruined, man. You got her trained real good. ❞ He drags his fingers over your parted lips, pressing them into your mouth, watching as your tongue flicks out instinctively, your body moving on autopilot, doing whatever they want without hesitation. ❝Bet she’d let you do anything to her right now.❞

Rafe groans, his pace stuttering for half a second before he doubles down, thrusts rough and punishing, pulling wrecked sounds from your throat, your hands clutching at the cushions, searching for something solid in the mess of sensation. ❝She’s already let me,❞ he mutters, mostly to himself, his voice wrecked, his grip tightening. ❝Fuck, baby, you feel too fucking good. Can’t get enough of you. ❞

The heat builds again, sharp and all-consuming, sparking behind your eyes, curling in your gut. You whimper, thighs trembling, body tensing, the pleasure too much, too overwhelming. Rafe feels it, curses under his breath, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. ❝Are you going to cum for me, baby?❞ His voice is hoarse, ragged, desperate. ❝Gonna make a fuckin’ mess all over me?❞ Barry watches, grinning, his gaze locked onto the way you fall apart, the way you shatter, moaning and trembling, your body wracked with pleasure, boneless beneath Rafe’s unrelenting pace. ❝That’s it, baby,❞ Barry murmurs, voice low, smug. ❝Give him a fuckin’ show.❞

And you do. You unravel, pleasure crashing over you in waves, leaving you spent, ruined, floating somewhere between reality and something far more dangerous. Rafe groans, burying himself deep, chasing his own high, his breath hot against your ear as he spills inside you, claiming you in every way that matters. The room spins, the smoke thick, the weight of their gazes still heavy on your skin. Barry takes another drag, exhales slowly, watching you through the haze. ❝Shit, man,❞ he drawls, flicking the last of his blunt into an empty bottle. ❝She’s a fuckin’ dream.❞

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : just something filthy and fun <3 hope u enjoy, mwah !! trying to get through anon requests soon, I promise !! also… what do we think about Barry being involved? be honest 

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[azzibuckets]

letters from dallas part 1

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: in which i neglect all the other series and fics im supposed to be writing to send more angst ur way <3

lfd masterlist | main masterlist

May 1, 2025

Dear Azzi,

It fucking sucks here.

I know I’m supposed to be thankful for this opportunity. And I am, I swear. My teammates are nice. Arike’s been showing me around downtown. Nai and Lyss are funny. They’ve adopted me, called me their child. They remind me of us.

My therapist said it’s good to write down my feelings. Not sure how she’d say if it was letters, letters to you, but hey, something is better than nothing.

I saw a trailer for Frozen 3 last week and I thought of you. I hope you’re doing well. I called KK the other day. She was so excited - I felt bad. I haven’t been as good as I wanted to be with talking to our team - well, your team now - but it hurts too much knowing that they get to spend every day with you and I can’t. I asked her about you. She seemed hesitant to tell me. But I kept nagging her and she told me you’re good, spending a lot of time reading and stuff. Said they finally got you off Colleen Hoover. She wants me to move on, I can tell. It’s killing both of us, how I can’t let you go. But I guess writing these letters and stuffing them in my closet are how I’m trying to get my closure and deal with my feelings, so maybe this will help.

You’re on my fucking mind all the time, and I wish you weren’t. I miss you so bad sometimes it hurts to exist. If you saw the amount of melatonin I take every every night just to avoid you in my dreams, you’d probably yell at me.

Love,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 7, 2025

Dear Azzi,

Have I mentioned that Drew hasn’t been talking to me? He blames me for our breakup, and he misses you like hell. I do too.

I played like shit in the game yesterday. I can’t believe we lost to the Sparks. It was nice seeing Cam again though. I don’t know if you remember, but it’s our anniversary. I saw that you were at the soccer game with the girls. You looked really good, really happy. I guess it doesn’t affect you like it affects me. And I know that should make me like, mad, or jealous. But I’m glad at least one of us is healing?

Honestly? it sucks having to see your face all over social media. It sucks even more whenever I go on my Instagram page and you’re all over it too. I could be salty and delete all of it, but that would start too much drama. Besides, that would mean deleting like half my posts

I wonder how Jose and Jon are doing. Jon unfollowed me the other day. That one hurt pretty bad. I miss my little brothers, and I miss your parents.

Love,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

August 28, 2025

Dear Azzi,

Yesterday was a fucking shit show. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to even show up when I heard you guys were coming. It was weird, seeing you in the audience. It was everything I’d always imagined, you coming to my games, but it also made me feel sick, knowing this is what could’ve been. What should’ve been. I was nervous the last quarter thinking about what to say to you after the game, but god, Azzi, you couldn’t even look at me. I tried to talk to you after the group pic but you disappeared.

Maybe it’s a good time to tell you that Katie and Tim were at my game last week, against the Mystics. I’m gonna be honest, when I saw they were there, I avoided them, and I’m not proud of it. I ran to my car straight after the presser but somehow they found where I parked and were waiting next to it?? If this was a different circumstance I would’ve laughed.

All they told me was great game before I started crying. I don’t even know what came over me. But your mom hugged me and that made me cry even harder. They told me I was their daughter no matter what, and they loved me. I wrote it down as soon as I left because I didn’t ever wanna forget.

Azzi, we didn’t even marry each other like we promised, and I still feel like we left a broken family. I didn’t mean for this many people to get hurt, for this many relationships to shatter because ours did.

It makes forgetting you so much harder, and that’s what pisses me off. That I’ve injured my knee and gone through months of rehab and moved across the country to a brand new city, yet this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 2nd, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I was calling KK again and I didn’t ask about you this time. I think I’m making some progress.

Arike keeps trying to get me with some of her friends, but it still doesn’t feel right. I think I need a little bit more time.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 20, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I turn 24 today. Damn I feel old. I’ve spent a third of my life now loving you.

From,

Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 22nd, 2025

Dear Azzi,

I just got your present in the mail. You didn’t have to. I love it. Thank you.

- Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 11, 2025

Happy birthday big head. I think you probably received my gift by now. I debated on writing a card, but you didn’t write me one, and I’ve decided to leave the cards (haha) in your hand. So I’m just following your lead. I hope you enjoy 23.

- Paige

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

December 7, 2025

Azzi,

Hell of a game yesterday. Proud of you. National player of the year performance

- P

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 5, 2026

Az,

LET’S FUCKING GOOOO. Shit, man. Two peat natty champs??? Unbelievable. My hands are tweaking out, I can’t even read my own handwriting. I knew you could do it, Az. Thank you for not forcing me to wear irish merch..I never look good in green like you do

- P

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 13, 2026

Azzi,

Drafted to the Sky????

See you so fucking soon

Nice fit at the draft btw

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May 16, 2026

Dear Azzi,

Fuck, the way you smiled at me after that game. Maybe I’ll have the courage to finally text you. I know it’s probably not the best idea but…I still regret everything. It’s been a little bit more than a year and it still hurts as bad as it did the first day. Is this normal?

Love,

Paige

[sptha]

The assassin

Part 2 here

Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

summary : You and Natasha are stuck in a trailer because of a mission that went wrong and now you have to hide out together. During this time, you two tried fixed your relationship that got ruined. (Natasha is also g!p)

You would rather be stuck here with anyone else apart from the black widow, only because she was not fun at all. All she did all day was watch TV and complain that she had watched everything. Now you did like Natasha, in fact you loved her but being with her 24/7 can get quite - really - annoying. It's like listening to your favourite song on repeat, you need a break after a while. You like it but breaks are good.

You and Natasha dated for 2 years but broke up because of the way she flirted with other people, she flirted with Steve and Tony which made you jealous at first but it soon turned into anger. You argued day in and day out, night and day, dusk till dawn, nothing would fix your relationship so you gave up. You both went separate ways and it was okay, you became friends of some sorts.

You were currently fixing the generator outside since it decided to cut out, you kicked it when nothing was working which made her scoff, "Won't work if your kicking it."

You looked at her and she put her hands up as a way of surrendering, "You wanna do it?" you offered and she shook her head. You gave her a look that said, exactly, then walked back inside to get your jacket and the car keys.

"Where are you going?" She asked with a tone of fear in her voice, like she was scared to be alone. You pointed to the car and as you got into the drivers seat she hopped into the seat next to you. "I'm coming."

You huffed, "Fine, whatever Romanoff." You buckled your seatbelt before pulling out of the small land surrounding the trailer, Her eyes fell onto the darkened street. She was watching the streetlights that she passed. A comfortable silence fell on the two of you which was weird due to the fact you always have something to talk about, she let out a sigh and you let her be.

"Where are we going?" She asked, you just gritted your teeth before snapping.

"I WAS GETTING AWAY FROM YOU. BECAUE APPARENTLY EVERYTHING AROUND HERE IS MY JOB." you took a deep breath, "I'm fucking sick of it, I'm sick of being here with you, eating noodles everyday, watching the same fucking shit on the tv."

You shouldn't have done it but it was already done before you knew what you did, she looked at you with hurt in her eyes, "Pull the car over." You did it, you stopped the car and she got out. You didn't think about it and you drove off, leaving her - abandoned, helpless and alone - She soon realised how far away she was.

It had been hours and you still didn't return, it worried Nat even though she probably shouldn't care about you. she still did, she waited for you to come back in hopes she can apologies.

more hours passed, Nat had a shower and was now waiting on the small couch in the trailer. She was reading a book that you had brought for her on her birthday - with a flashlight in her hand - it was a book she had her eye on but never brought it. So you got it for her and out of everything she got, yours was her favourite gift.

She heard a clank outside and then a groan, She picked up her gun from the kitchen isle and slowly peaked her head outside the door, It was just you. You were fixing the generator. Suddenly the lights came back on in the trailer, and a smile finally came onto your face for the first time in weeks.

A smile Nat hasn't seen in ages, it made her feel a certain way. She felt like she had you back but you weren't hers anymore because she hurt you. All she wanted was for you to come back to her but it never happened, of course it never happened - you didn't wanna get hurt.

Nat walked back in and sat back where she was in case you didn't wanna see her. After you didn't come in for a while she headed to bed, she decided to just see if you were here in the morning.

You walked into the trailer, you went to get food since you were running low. You put the food into the fridge and cupboards, you got her some chocolates because of the way you acted. You kicked your shoes off and hung your jacket up, as you walked into the bedroom you saw her sleeping. She was peaceful and so quiet, it reminded you of when you woke up with her laying on you. Or when you got home late from a mission and she was wearing your shirt laying on your side of the bed. It made you think of what actually went wrong, maybe it was your anger issues, maybe it was her flirting but actually it was none of those. It was the fear of being judged, Natasha was scared to be seen with you in public because she didn't been called out for being in a relationship. she was ashamed and that's what lead to your break up.

You left the box of chocolates on her bedside table before changing into something more comfortable to sleep in. You laid next to her and like most nights you laid there and stared at the ceiling, you had trouble sleeping without her arms around you because she was like a protective blanket for you.

A few days passed, nothing much happened apart from going to the gas station for some food and to fill up the car. Apart from the big elephant in the room, Natasha wanted to fix the relationship whereas you didn't. You didn't wanna get hurt again, you didn't wanna be used like that again.

You were sitting on the couch and she was sat next to you, you had figured out Tonys password for Netflix so you were watching greys anatomy. The lamp that was next to Nat caused a warm glow on her skin, You glanced at her a few times which she didn't notice to your surprise.

You giggled at the fact Alex was so sassy in the first few seasons, you were rewatching it just to see how far you could get before they come get you - it brought you some comfort - you were currently on season 2 episode 3 so not that far.

Natasha stood up and walked over to the small fridge, "There's some noodles in the cupboard." You told her not looking away from the tv, "Your favourite one." You added, She smirked before getting the noodles out.

She sat back down next to you and it's like every time you looked at her she looked even more beautiful, "You know I can feel you staring." She muttered as she looked up from her book, You quickly looked away and your cheeks grew a dark shade of red. She chuckled slightly before looking back at her, but she got a glance of how you looked first.

She never meant to hurt you, she was just scared of being in a relationship. Scared of being held down. Scared of relying on someone due to her past, but when she saw you it wasn't that scary anymore. But that fear soon came to surface when she almost lost you, She didn't want to feel like that again so she shut you out.

"Did you love me?"

She closed her book and looked up at you, There was a silence between you as if she was waiting to find the answer in the air, "We broke up." Her answer was cold, She began to read her book while eating her noodles.

You nodded and stood up to go to bed, "Okay." You said quietly and she stood up behind you to follow you.

She grabbed your arm and spun you around so your front was against her front, You were only 2 inches away from her face and you could feel her breath on your face, "I don't know how I felt." You nodded and she let you wrist go, she expected you to move away but you stayed.

"I loved you." You whispered, almost scared of your own voice. Her gaze on you softens and she looked at you in a way she hasn't for almost 5 months. You closed the gap between you and your lips were on hers, She didn't kiss back at first so you backed up.

"Y/n." She said before kissing you back, a sweet and passionate kiss, It was never like the kisses she used to give you. It wasn't full of hunger and lust, just love.

You ended up that night with her head between your thighs and her hands roaming your body, and it didn't just happen that time . it happened every single night after that until, 2 weeks later, when they came to pick you up.

You ignored Natasha the whole flight home, You didn't wanna be hurt again and you didn't wanna be in a relationship where it's just full of sex and arguments again. She got the hint when you sat between Wanda and Clint, leaving her no space.

"I missed you." Wanda said as she planted a friendly kiss on your cheek, Wanda was your best friend so it didn't gross you out when she kissed you. "So, you and Romanoff?" She spoke so only you heard.

You shook your head, "Nothing is happening, she's my ex. It's how it'll stay." She sighed and held your hand the whole way home, Natasha watched you with gritted teeth - you were her girl - It should be her with you.

You landed and Natasha was engulfed in a hug by Steve so she couldn't get to you when she wanted to, You walked off with Wanda to her room so you could talk to her. Natasha would just have to wait till dinner.

"YOU HAD SEX?" Wanda yelled, you shushed her as you walked into her room and closed the door. "No you had sex." She spoke quietly but still in a surprised tone.

You sat on her bed with your back against her pillows, "It doesn't mean anything." You told the sakovian, She raised her eyebrows.

She mimicked you, "Didn't mean anything." She scoffed and sat down next to you, "I get that she hurt you but your feelings have to be there."

You sighed, "They are, I still love her but she doesn't and I'm not getting hurt like that again." You crossed your arms, "Dating is banned from now on."

In the room down the hall Natasha was in the same situation, Steve kept walking around as if he had just heard the worst thing ever, "You had sexual intercourse?" He asked, Natasha cringed at his words.

"Please don't call it that. It was sex." She told him, "The best sex ever."

He sat down next to Nat and put his hand on her shoulder, "Do you love her?"

Nat stood up in anger, "People need to stop asking me that." She walked out the room and slammed the door behind her, it made a loud noise that you heard from your bedroom.

Dinner came around and You cooked it with Wanda, She threw flour at you many times and you just stood there and took it. For months you had missed the witch, missed cooking real food and the big kitchen isle you could just sit in and 'help'.

"If your not going to help at least set the table." She ordered and you jumped up from the isle as Natasha walked past so you stumbled into her. Everyone went silent to see if she would snap but she just helped you stand back up and walked towards the fridge to get a drink.

You set the table as everyone sat down but they all had a plan, to get you and Natasha to sit next to each other. You didn't realise that the only chair left was next to the Russian until you went to sit down, you didn't make a fuss, You sat down next to her and began to eat.

"So.. Glad your home?" Steve asked, It was mainly at you because he hasn't see you a lot.

You smiled at him and nodded, "Very glad, get my own bed." You told them and they all chuckled but Natasha did not, she just picked up her knife and cut her steak.

You didn't speak to Natasha but when you finished, she took your plate and cleaned it off for you. It was small things that made you feel like maybe you should give her a chance. Another chance but how could you? What if it ends up the same?

She sat back down and filled her glass up with some vodka, "Nat go easy on that, you've drunk almost the whole bottle." She shot Tony a look and he raised his arms as a surrender. She stood up and took the bottle with her.

"Goodnight." She muttered before stumbling off, Steve excused himself and followed her.

Later that night you heard things being moved around, it was coming from Natasha's room so you just shrugged it off thinking it was her moving stuff around. You got a glass of water from the kitchen and she walked in behind you, the smell of alcohol is what brought your attention to the girl.

"Nat-" She pressed her lips onto yours in a heaty and sloppy kiss which you returned, when you realised what was happening you pushed her away, "Stop."

She cupped your face, "I love you." She told you, the alcohol scent can be smelt from her breath which made you cringe.

"Your drunk Nat." You pushed her away and she pinned you against the fridge, Her lips found your neck and you should have pushed her away but you moved your head to give her more space.

You felt her teeth graze over your skin along with her tongue, You shook your head and pushed her away, "No." You sternly told her, she just nodded and moved away.

"So you just used me for sex?"

You frowned, "You fucked me, you came onto me."

She smirked, "You want me."

"No I don't. All you did was hurt me and use me, I'm done with caring about you. I'm done, leave me alone." She nodded and left, You wanted her to leave but you couldn't help but feel empty without her.

[jayden-killer]

Don't let me go. ‹𝟹

Eddie pushes away his need of affection. That is, until he meets you.

warnings: ig angst to fluff(?), reader is fem bc yes, al munson mention lmao.

Eddie needed affection.

Having someone cuddling him is what he has always wanted; however, never admitted, especially since his mother passed away. He doesn’t need a maternal figure, far from it. Growing up, this need is repressed over time, inculcating this idea that it is not necessary because he can live without it. Yet this desire resurfaces in front of couples who embrace, holding hands, sharing their personal space. After all, he doesn’t need it.

He’s a freak.

Who would ever want to be next to a freak? A person who will never succeed in life? Who may end up like his father?

He cannot cope with the discomfort in his heart, so he tries to repress it once again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

That was his belief until he met you. It wasn’t a chance meeting at all. One of his teachers had said that he needed a tutor. His school grades were not stable, not to mention the poor attention he paid to almost every class. He would never have expected his tutor to be the most beautiful, kind person in the world.

Date after date, you have opened to each other, sharing a comfortable silence.

Your relationship started after 4 months of seeing each other; everything was going well. One of those days, Eddie thought it would be nice to invite you into his trailer, stating that his uncle would come back late to catch up on some overdue hours.

So you found yourself in the heat, on his poorly groomed sofa, focused on the vision of the musical The Rocky Horror Picture Show. One of Eddie’s favourite movies.

"Love?"

"Mh?"

"Do you really...wanna hold my hand?"

His girlfriend’s eyes were confused. "Why would I be bothered by it, Teddy?"

Teddy. God, he loved her when he called him that.

Eddie met her eyes and thought for a moment to lie, but... did it make sense? Was it really worth lying? What if she knew about it? She knew that her beloved had a good intuition. He also knew that women did not miss anything and would not get away with it easily.

So, with a deep sigh, he played with his girlfriend’s fingers and confessed everything. His feeling of repulsion towards love, of inequality, how he had always tried to fool him and how he was not...worthy.

"Eddie..." The girl’s fingers squeezed more of hers. "I must admit, I suspected it."

Eddie raised his eyebrows. Good sense, indeed. "How?" he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "You weren’t very convinced when I hugged you in public on certain occasions or when I kissed you on the stairs of the school. You looked... tense. I knew something was wrong."

On Eddie passed a feeling of shame.

What a shithead, he began to think.

"And I understand how you feel. Sometimes it happens to me too, and it will definitely never be the same feeling as yours, but..." The girl caressed his cheek, gently swiping her thumb up and down, "you have to start believing it. Also, you don’t really believe all that crap going around about you? Unsubstantiated bullshit by ignorant people?" They both chuckled.

"Right," said Eddie, still smiling. "Maybe I just have to believe it a little bit more." He paused, this time stroking her cheek. " I have to work on it. It won’t happen immediately, but...with time"

"With time," she repeated. She silently got closer to him, as if she wanted to kiss him, but fearing that she might bother him. Eddie appreciated the gesture.

"You mustn’t think it bothers me. I love it. I love to feel your lips on mine." He gave her a quick kiss and took her cheeks in his hands.

Eddie memorized every detail of her wonderful face, with red cheeks and eyes that conveyed security and love. "Okay?"

She nodded, smiling. "Okay. I’ll be by your side the whole time. If you ever need to talk about it again, you know I’m here for that."

"I know, baby. I know. I don’t know how to thank you yet."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "10 dollars an hour for each psychological counseling."

Eddie threw his hands in the air. "This is a burglary without a gun! I’m already broke, then you go too!"

The two spent the evening laughing, enjoying the movie, and Eddie seemed to have a lighter weight on his shoulders. At least for now.

☆

taglist: @justalotoffanfiction

[steddiealltheway]

It had started out as a joke.

Okay, well Steve is pretty sure it started out as a joke to alleviate some of the anxiety before facing Vecna.

It was an innocent joke, too. Or somewhat innocent considering it was made right before they were just going to kill Vecna and maybe die in the process.

Eddie had said, "Hey, Steve?" And when he turned around, Eddie asked with a teasing smile, "A kiss for good luck?"

And Steve, in front of Robin, Nancy, and Dustin with an axe on his back, had just shrugged and walked up to him, planting a kiss right on his lips and lingering for a few seconds before pulling away. He whispered, "Good luck." Ignoring Dustin's whispered what the fuck.

"Make him pay," Eddie had kind of mumbled out in shock, and Steve just nodded, turning back to find Robin's jaw dropped. He just gave her a look that said What? It could be the end of the world. Sue me.

She had just raised her hands in defense while Nancy tried to hide a wide smile.

Later when Steve found Eddie's lifeless body in Dustin's arms, he didn't hesitate to press his lips against his again, trying to breathe life into him. When Dustin shouted something about feeling a pulse, Steve lifted Eddie up like he weighed nothing, and marched him to the gate, determined to save him.

After he was placed in a hospital bed next to Eddie, he was chastised a bit for working through the adrenaline and straining his own wounds while carrying Eddie. But Steve didn't care that it meant it would take a few more weeks for him to completely recover because Eddie was alive. And that's all that really mattered.

The first time Eddie went to physical therapy, Steve smiled at him and asked, "A kiss for good luck?"

Eddie laughed but reached out for Steve who bent over and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. It felt different this time. Less like the world was ending and more like a promise that everything would be okay.

Even after Steve was discharged from the hospital, he would come back for Eddie's physical therapy, offering a kiss for good luck before waiting for him to come back and tell him about the progress he was making.

But as his physical therapy sessions decrease as he gets used to his scars and new limitations, Steve finds himself still lingering around him.

He thinks Eddie notices. With the way he lingers around Steve as well, sneaking glances at him every so often, eyes dipping down to Steve's lips more often as he talks, he's sure Eddie knows what's on his mind.

So, it's really not a surprise when one day Steve, Robin, and Eddie are hanging out and Robin backs up with a piece of popcorn in her hand, she says, "Go long," to Steve, and Eddie asks, "A kiss for good luck?"

Steve doesn't hesitate to give him a quick peck before turning back to Robin and gesturing for her to toss him the piece. She frowns momentarily before tossing it.

Steve is almost upset when it lands in his mouth because it means no more chances of a good luck kiss.

But Eddie just smiles and says, "Maybe our kisses really do bring good luck."

Steve can't help but laugh a bit and nudge his shoulder as he grabs a piece of popcorn out of the bucket and leans back to toss it in Eddie's mouth.

Eddie leans forward this time, and Steve kisses him sweetly before pulling back and asking, "Ready?"

Eddie nods and opens his mouth, catching the popcorn easily.

Steve thinks that maybe their kisses really do bring good luck.

When Steve turns to Robin with another kernel, she jokes, "As long as you don't kiss me." But there's something in her tone that lets Steve know that they're talking about this later.

And soon, Eddie is leaving, and Steve can't help but kiss him again saying it's just good luck for the drive back to his new trailer. And of course, it's dark out, so maybe Steve puts a little more into this kiss than usual before they're both pulling away, breathing heavily into the small shared space between them. Eddie says, "Good luck here," before kissing Steve again and turning quickly to leave.

Steve lingers for a moment in the doorway, making sure Eddie drives off safely before closing the door.

"What the hell was that?"

"Jesus, Robin, how long have you been standing there?"

Robin crosses her arms. "I literally hugged him goodbye right before you two decided to make out in front of me. And since when has that been happening, dingus?" The hurt in her tone is loud and clear.

Steve leans back against the door with a sigh. "We've been doing the good luck kiss before all his physical therapy sessions. It's not a big deal though. It's just good luck. And tonight was the first time we've kissed for something other than physical therapy."

Robin's eyebrows furrow. "Steve, at one point he had PT three days a week. And how many sessions did you miss?"

"None," Steve confesses quietly.

"Oh my gosh," Robin says and walks to the living room.

"It's not like that!" Steve argues, following her.

Robin turns around and says, "Yes, it's not like you two have kissed multiple times for the past few weeks just for 'good luck' and nothing else."

Steve sighs and crosses his arms. "It's exactly like that." He pauses and looks away. "Okay, maybe I'm a little kiss-starved, but it doesn't mean anything!"

Robin worries her bottom lip as she stares at Steve looking conflicted. "Have you ever thought that maybe it might mean more to Eddie?"

Steve freezes before shaking his head. "It doesn't."

"Steve-"

"It's just not like that between us, okay?"

Robin stares at him for a few more seconds and quietly says, "You know that it's okay if it is, right?"

Steve nods, not really taking the words to heart. He doesn't feel that way about Eddie. Sure, he likes kissing him and seeing the way he lights up right before they kiss and the way he lingers after but...

It's just not like that.

Steve sighs and looks down. "I'll let you know if anything changes though, okay?"

"Okay," Robin says, sounding a little more satisfied with his answer. "Now you have to help me with my romance problems."

Steve sits back as he listens to Robin rant, trying to ignore the way she still associates him and Eddie with something romantic. And really the kisses are... they're just for good luck... Right?

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve thinks that maybe the kisses are less for good luck the next week after he starts hanging out more and more with Eddie. They've started asking, "A kiss for good luck?" for just about everything - Eddie getting up to get him and Steve two Cokes, Steve grabbing a blanket for them to share, every time they say goodbye, when one of them shifts on the couch or bed to get more comfortable. Anything really.

But now the good luck kisses are no longer verbally prompted. Sometimes, Eddie will look at Steve, and he'll just know he needs the good luck. Or sometimes Steve will look at Eddie, feeling a random need for good luck.

Usually, it never goes beyond the intensity of their first goodbye-good-luck kiss. And they have a mutual silent agreement to have no good luck kisses in front of the kids. Robin is fine - although that comes with a question about his feelings and whatnot which Steve actively likes to avoid.

It's not like he's in denial about the fact he enjoys kissing Eddie. He's just very much in denial about how much he likes kissing Eddie, and he would like to keep it that way until Eddie finds someone else or ends this... whatever they have.

Unfortunately for him, he's forced to think about it when he gets a little too careless during a movie night with The Party.

Everything was going fine really. Steve had even managed to slip three good luck kisses to Eddie when the kids were away from them. And really, they both needed it because dealing with the kids was sometimes hell.

But Steve really had no excuse when he sat down next to Eddie and openly kissed him in front of all the kids. He only realized his mistake when he pulled back and noticed Eddie staring at him with wide eyes.

"Uh, what was that?" Max asks, looking somewhat delighted at the new development.

Steve quickly explains, "It was a good luck kiss."

"See! I told you guys I wasn't lying!" Dustin shouts excitedly at everyone.

Steve and Eddie turn to give him an unimpressed look at the same time.

Dustin holds his hands up as his voice gets a little higher. "What? They didn't believe me when I told them about it before."

"Okay, now we believe you, but what was this good luck kiss even for?" Will asks.

Eddie shifts next to Steve uncomfortably, but Steve easily answers, "Good luck with dealing with you guys. Plus, I needed good luck getting comfortable."

"Good luck getting comfortable?" Lucas clarifies slowly, not even trying to hide his smile.

"Yes," Steve says exasperatedly. "Now can we watch this movie?"

"Are you two dating?" El asks.

Steve tenses up and glances at Eddie.

"No," Mike says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Friends kiss each other all the time for good luck."

Will shoots him a look. "When we were just friends, didn't you literally ask me for a good luck-"

"Hey," Mike says with wide eyes as he turns red. "Not helping."

"We're not dating," Eddie states and starts the movie, "But we are watching this movie."

Steve feels his heart sink at the confirmation. Why the hell is he so upset about Eddie telling the truth? Because that's exactly what it is. The truth. They're not dating so Steve isn't allowed to get upset.

For the rest of the movie, Steve tries to get into the plot, but he can't when Eddie is sitting right next to him, reminding him of what he said.

When the movie ends, Steve immediately gets up and starts cleaning up the mess left by the kids and hurries off to the kitchen to work on the mess in there too. He needs to call Robin.

He scrubs at the countertops and half-heartedly waves at the kids when they yell their goodbyes and rush out the door. He gets stuck at one spot on the counter that won't give and scrubs at it harshly until a hand rests over his.

"Hey," Eddie says softly. "You okay?"

Steve slowly turns to face him and lies, "Yeah. I'm fine."

Eddie's eyes lower to his lips momentarily, but he doesn't lean in. "Are you sure?"

Steve nods in response and turns back to the counter.

"Um, good luck with this."

"I'm going to need it," Steve says, leaning in to stare at whatever is stuck on the counter. He pauses when he realizes what Eddie just said and turns around. "Good luck with the kids."

"I'm definitely going to need it," Eddie says dramatically huffing.

"I could take half of them, you know."

Eddie shrugs and moves closer to him. "Or you could do something else for me."

"Yeah?" Steve asks with a smile, "And what's that?"

"Give me some extra good luck."

Steve snorts as Eddie smiles brightly at him. But he wraps his arms around his shoulders and says, "Extra good luck coming right up."

And this kiss... it feels... different.

It starts out sweet and slow like usual, just a soft press of their lips together before they readjust to get a better angle. But Steve remembers the extra Eddie requested and runs a hand through Eddie's hair, pressing in closer. Eddie's hands wrap around his waist as he turns and presses his back against the counter.

Steve breaks the kiss with a gasp, needing more air and filled with slight shock as all his feelings for Eddie suddenly rise to the surface. He pulls back to look at Eddie for a second, taking in his blown pupils and pink cheeks as he whispers, "Jesus H. Christ."

Steve doesn't waste a second before he kisses Eddie again, immediately deepening the kiss but cradling Eddie's face in his hands, trying to offset the desperation of the kiss with the gentleness of the touch. He wants to let him know we have more time now. Unlike their first kiss, and unlike any of the other ones that Steve couldn't suck it up and admit were real, this is the start of something new. Something-

A loud car horn goes off outside causing Steve and Eddie to break apart, but they linger in each other's arms, both staring, knowing they have more to say but not the time in this moment.

"I have to go," Eddie whispers.

Steve nods, but neither of them moves.

The horn goes off again, and Steve reluctantly moves away, grabbing Eddie's hand to drag him to the front door. He waits a second and says, "Eddie..."

"I know," Eddie says and leans in to kiss him gently. "I'll be back, okay? As soon as I drop the little demons off."

The car horn goes off multiple times in an obnoxious rhythm that Steve guesses is Dustin's own creation. He kisses Eddie on the forehead and opens the door. "Good luck."

"God, I'm going to need it."

Steve watches as Eddie jogs to the van yelling, "I'm coming! I'm coming! It's not like you guys are near your curfew so zip it!"

Steve smiles as the van takes off and Eddie blows him a dramatic kiss.

As soon as they're out of sight, Steve races to the phone and calls Robin.

"Robin speaking," she answers, sounding as if she wants nothing to do with the call.

"Hey," Steve sighs with relief.

"Thank god. I thought you were going to be some telemarketer or something. What's going on?"

"I have feelings for Eddie," Steve confesses immediately.

There's a rustling sound and Robin sighs, "You finally realized it."

"Shut up."

"You know I'm right."

It's true, but Steve isn't going to admit it.

"So, what made you realize?" Robin asks.

Steve leans back against the counter. "He told the kids we weren't dating which I couldn't let go because it hurt so damn much. Then, I kind of figured out when I basically stuck my tongue down his throat."

"Gross. You know I hate that phrase," Robin complains.

"And that's why I say it," Steve says with a smile that slowly turns into a softer one as he thinks about Eddie. "I think I'm going to ask him out."

"I wonder if he'll say yes," Robin jokes. At least, Steve hopes she's joking.

"That's a joke, right?"

"Yes, dingus. I'm pretty sure you guys have been sort of dating in the form of excuses this whole time."

"Don't make fun of us."

Robin snorts. "I'm not, I'm just stating the facts."

Steve sighs, trying not to give away again that she's right.

"I'm happy for you guys," Robin says with an obvious smile that Steve can hear. "And thank you."

"For?"

"Realizing it before I had to knock some sense into you."

Steve rolls his eyes affectionately, knowing she can probably tell even over the phone.

"And for telling me. Which hey, how are you feeling about it?"

Steve shrugs. "I mean, I'm scared, you know? None of my relationships work out, and I need this one to be different."

"I think it will be, but I was more asking about how you're dealing with the knowledge that you like guys."

Steve huffs, "Yeah, I'm not dumb. I knew I was attracted to Eddie, I just didn't want to get emotions involved. I thought you knew this."

"Hello, I'm the same person who couldn't tell that Vickie was into girls as well."

"That's true," he shifts the phone to his other ear and says, "God, I can't believe we're having this conversation over the phone."

"I prefer it to the dirty Starcourt bathroom floors."

"I don't," Steve says with a fond smile.

"Eliminate all the trauma before that moment, and yeah, maybe I do prefer it. Even on the floor."

"I can drag you into the Family Video bathr-"

"Not a chance, dingus," Robin says immediately.

Steve laughs and pauses before saying, "Thanks for letting me take my time to figure it out. Sorry that I was kind of an asshole before."

"You're always kind of an asshole. It's part of the charm."

Steve smiles and says, "Well, then I'm going to be an asshole and tell you I have to hang up, so I can prepare for this life-altering moment."

"Gosh, you two are both so dramatic. You're absolutely perfect for each other."

“Goodbye, Robin,” Steve sighs.

“I would wish you good luck, but I’m not there to kiss you!”

Steve groans as Robin laughs. “I’m hanging up.” He does just that after he hears Robin shriek with more laughter.

She’s never going to let him live this down. (Not that he minds really.)

When Eddie comes back later, the first thing Steve says is, “I need a major good luck kiss.”

“For what?” Eddie asks with a small smile.

“So this really amazing guy will say yes when I ask him out.”

Eddie smiles and wraps his arms around his waist. “You think I’m amazing?”

“So presumptuous of you, assuming I’m talking about you,” Steve jokes.

Eddie raises his eyebrows.

“Okay, yes. I’m talking about you.”

Eddie smiles and says, “Well, I don’t think you need any good luck then.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks with a smile so wide it almost hurts.

“Definitely. But I’m going to give you some extra good luck just in case.”

Steve kisses him with a smile, pulling back immediately to ask, “You’re saying yes, right?”

“I thought I said I was giving you extra good luck first.”

“Eddie.”

“Yes,” Eddie replies and frowns. “But now what am I giving you extra good luck for?”

“Us? Or maybe we could just call it making out.”

Eddie makes a face and sticks his tongue out. “Bleh, no. No making out in this relationship. Just extra good luck giving.”

Steve laughs and leans in. Giving his boyfriend as much good luck as he can.

[aqours]

what really got to me in the trailer is how Homura looked so sinister, how genuinely happy she was to see Madoka happy without her being involved, and how. tired she was at the end.

the first real shot we get of her looking particularly triumphant, asking her opponent if they can shoulder what she now shoulders, immediately followed by a slideshow of Homura's trauma throughout the show and someone telling her (likely Sayaka as she refers to Madoka as "my best friend," or it could be Madoka herself addressing Homura, as she also calls Homura "her very best friend.") to release her as words float on the screen also making it clear how highly Homura thinks of Madoka.

"This world is for Madoka."

but she only looks. completely, genuinely happy the whole time in a way that isn't a look of triumph watching Madoka have fun. watching her genuinely enjoy herself in that gilded cage she created.

and by the end she looks so. tired. like she looks exhausted.

Homura is an evil demon. that's what she became when she committed an unforgivable sin: ripping off the wings of a goddess and dragging them down to earth.

and she did it all for one person and her happiness, even if its unwanted. she's happy when Madoka is happy in her cage, and wants to protect that cage at all costs: even her own happiness. she's clearly not happy with her own situation. being evil sucks. not being close to Madoka sucks. and the only way to ensure what she feels is Madoka's happiness is to be her enemy. it's so tragic, everything she does and ever will do is for Madoka's sake, no matter how twisted and warped it is. the only thing a child who was never allowed to grow up in 10+ years can think of.

the world is for Madoka. that's the crux of everything the devil called Homura Akemi does. it's for Madoka. it's absolutely not for her.

and it makes me. constantly think of that thing that Madoka's seiyuu once said in a Q&A:

no matter what happens, Homura is Homura, and Madoka will adore her, even if they're now enemies. this is the last thing in the world Madoka would want for her. Madoka would want to save Homura no matter the cost.

i think of Madoka fully realized what was happening, her greatest wish would be for Homura to just have the good night's sleep she clearly desperately needs.

"Falling in love with someone is wonderful, so don't call yourself the devil. I love you."