#i got nothing that i actually wanted to do done this weekend (writing)

[ultralightpoe]

Cold Cases And So Forth- Eddie Munson

Authors Note: the second part was so long that I split it into 2. I’m not quite done but this part should be a hoot -Ultralightpoe

Warnings: cursing, slight signs of depression, getting “hit” with a car.

Word Count: 8+K

Description: The reader and Eddie are on a mystery break due to obvious reasons.

Main Master List - - Stranger Things Master List

Previous Part: Nancy Drew

[Thank You For The GIF @dailystrangerthings ]

Enjoy!

Haven’t read the first part? Find it here

The Case Of ….. Nope. No More Cases.

“The piece you did on the bathrooms was…..” Brenda Carlton begins, dark eyebrow raising as she slams the most recent school paper on your makeshift desk, her french tip nail pressing into the words in a three motion tap before dragging it up to point to you. You glare at her hand the entire time, narrowing your eyes at the rose gold ring that glints under the cheap lights of the school. “It was something…”

Boring was the word she was looking for. Utterly boring. You had nearly fallen asleep while writing it. The question was why your rival at the school paper seemed bothered by the fact that you wouldn’t be writing any hard hitting exposes anymore.

“Switching from two ply to one ply was really messed up.” You shrug, turning back to the photos you had in front of you, randomly pushing them around in hopes that if you looked busy enough she would leave you alone and find someone else to bother. But she doesn’t, instead she stays there tapping her nails in an impatient manner as you struggle not to roll your eyes. “Is there something I can do for you Brenda?”

“Yes actually.” She huffs, flicking some hair behind her shoulder as she follows you through the journalism room. “You can tell me what the heck is wrong with you.”

“A lot as I’m told.” You snip, looking for something to do. Anything to do, you needed to look busy to avoid this conversation and to avoid eye contact.

“Does this have something to do with Munsons new girlfriend?” She blurts, and you try not to react, but nothing can fight off the way your body locks up at the mention. And she catches this detail, of course she does. “Oh it so does.”

“Can you fuck off Brenda?” You snap, turning to her with a glare before trying to correct yourself. “I mean, I just meant-”

“Oh I get it now. Eddie dumped you cause he’s got the new girlfriend who is all like hottie with the body. Barf. And now you are all sad and aren’t doing that sleuthing thing.” She yaps, turning to where Nancy Wheeler currently sat staring at you both. “That’s so sad…. Isn’t it Nance?”

“It’s…..”

“Sad. We get it. I get it. Can everyone please just….. find something else to be doing with their time?” It’s another lame attempt, and you were sure your eyes welling with tears would just make it worse, yet when Brenda looked at you something changed on her face. She straightened her posture a bit, fixing her sweater and clearing her throat before pushing out a folder she had been carrying. You grab it quickly, pulling it to you and nearly ripping it up once you see one of the teardrops land in the corner.

“This is your assignment. As much as it pains me I wanted to give it to our best writer, so if you can get your head out of your ass and give me a good expose on the missing prom queen I’d be so grateful.” She huffs, turning in a fluid motion and stomping off while you set the folder down and open it up to a pretty smile looking up at you.

You were assigned a prom queen for your next piece. A prom queen that probably had a line of friends and plans every weekend. A prom queen that wasn’t so odd.

Leave it to Brenda Carlton to kick a girl while she’s down.

“What am I supposed to do with an empty folder that has one photo?” You scoff, slamming a hand down and moving to find a trash can to shove this photo into before Nancy Wheeler interrupts.

“Hawkins tries not to talk about her too much. You should try the library yearbooks.” She supplies, grabbing her bag and hefting it in one fluid motion. “I think people all wrote goodbye messages to her in it.”

“Right.” You nod, shoving the folder in with the rest of your school books in attempt to seem natural. Casting a side glance to the doors you would be exiting from here in a moment.

Call it paranoia but your heartbeat accelerates when you see a figure leaning against the wall next to the door, the longer hair recognizable even through the foggy glass. Stupid.

If routine was followed he still would have had 30 minutes of his meeting, if this was 2 weeks ago you would have walked to the theatre doors and read a bit while you waited for him. But this was not 2 weeks ago and you really wished he wasn’t out there.

“Here.” Brenda hisses, snapping your attention to where she and Nancy currently stood holding up a window by the sink. “Hurry up Nancy Drew.”

And you do, dashing to the window, putting all your work in your bag before tossing it out and looking to see how much of a fall it is. “Just two stories.”

“Is that supposed to help her Nance?” Brenda hisses.

“Why are you helping me?” You blurt, preparing yourself to climb out, tying up your hair as both girls blink at you.

“I would have given anything for someone to save me from the awkward debacle of Tommy and I getting caught at lovers lane in between town borders.” Brenda admits, cringing a bit. “My god. Hopper was so awkward, and then he accused us of carving into the tree right next to Tommys car and by the time we got back to town everyone knew including Carol and-”

“Message received.” You nod, climbing the sink and pushing your legs out the window. “And I really appreciate it.”

And for the first time ever Brenda Carlton helped you, and you closed your eyes to jump.

…

As it turns out jumping from a 2 story building hurts, more so the knee you landed on hurts and the rest of your body was merely a dull ache. But you would take a hurt knee and sore limbs over having another heartbreaking conversation with Eddie Munson any day of the week.

It’s kind of ironic how it all came about, and it’s embarrassing just how right he was. Every single day you have wanted to call him, for two weeks now. You get the urge to pick up the phone, and you always do, but halfway through his number you remember what he said and always end up slamming the phone back down. He was right, if you couldn’t go two damn weeks without going crazy then he was right.

And when the only person you talk to doesn’t want to talk to you anymore it becomes easy to realize just how lonely a person truly is.

You were not ready to have this argument with Eddie again, because he was right. The second he removes himself you are left with nothing, no one. He. Was. Right.

Codependent. Odd. Annoying. Clingy. Obsessive.

“You okay, kiddo?’ Your dad calls, pulling you from your thoughts as you look up in a panic to see him getting out of his car. “Why are you limping?”

“I fell. Why are you home so early?”

“You fell? On one of your cases? I don’t want you doing anything dangerous-”

“I’m not on a case.” You correct, feeling like you just got punched in the gut again. “I don’t do those anymore. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I was worried…. About you.” He admits, reaching in to pull out a bag of fast food. “I brought dinner home. Maybe you can tell me about what’s bugging you.”

And at dinner you find a boring excuse for why he thinks you’re acting weird. Stress from school work, the weather, anything to get him off your back. He eats it all up, smiling in relief that you weren’t involved in anything dangerous before kissing your head and leaving you to clean up the dinner mess.

Once you are in bed he shuffles in with an ice pack for your knee, looking around the room. “Something different in here?”

“Nope,” You lie, shrugging a bit as his eyes narrow before he nods and leaves. But if he really looked he’d have seen the empty bookshelves, void of all your mystery novels. No more nancy drew, goodbye agatha christie, sherlock holmes can rot in the trash. And normally hanging from that bookshelf is another addition that has been thrown away. Your sleuth kit.

You were done with that life. Since it was so…. Odd.

-

The Case Of The Nasty Library.

“I just think that tutoring might be a good use of your freed up time.” Miss Harwood, your science teacher for the semester, had offered and you had stupidly agreed to it. The entire week you had been dreading this moment, sitting in the tutoring center of the library, tapping your pencil and watching the time tick by in a taunting manner.

Because the tutoring center is completely empty, and had been for the past 40 minutes.

You were just about to give up and leave when the door to the library squeals as it’s opened, making you sit up quickly with a smile already plastered on your face in hopes to make a good impression until you spot who had come in. Gareth, the very same Gareth from Eddie’s stupid DnD group.

He seems to realize you’re the only person in the tutoring center, and when you expect him to roll his eyes and leave he instead gives a tense nod and comes to sit at the round table you are currently sitting at. And just when you think it can’t get worse he attempts a smile and a “Howdy Nancy Drew.”

You roll your own eyes, snatching up your bag and pencil to try and make an escape as he stands quickly with extended palms. “Wait okay, wait. I really need help with my math homework and you’re the only tutor her-”

“I’m not a tutor.” You rush out, the lie sticking heavy on your tongue. He blinks at you before a smug expression covers his face.

“You’re not a tutor? Which means you’re here for tutoring?”

“Yup.” You shrug, taking this chance to walk away, only two steps in and your knee is screaming in pain so instead of walking to the doors like you initially planned you divert and walk to the back, hidden behind the shelves as Gareth groans out somewhere near the tables. You loiter for a moment, debating if there was a back door before your eyes flag on the yearbooks on the bottom shelf in the far corner, and since you have time to kill avoiding Eddie’s friends like a coward you might as well look.

You toss your backpack down, pulling out the folder that is a little crinkled now before checking the name and year. “Holly Sampers…. 1971.”

But, just your luck, 1971 seems to be the only yearbook missing….. The slot it was once held is still there.

“What are you looking for?” Gareth asks, scaring you enough that you jump a little, yelling out and hitting your head on the metal of the shelf above you making him curse out and move to help you. “Jesus.”

“Can I help you with something?”

“My homework.” He replies, and you think he is being an ass for a moment until you look up and see an actual smile on his face, not one of those awkward fake smiles.

“I can’t.” You shrug, moving to stand up, ignoring his hands that reach out to help you. “And since a tutor isn’t going to show up I have to go.”

“Is that your new mystery?” Gareth teases, making you turn back. “Holly Sampers and the missing tutor?”

“So funny Gareth.” You smile, this one is all fake and poisonous. “You should tell that to your friends.”

And you feel like you won a bit when his face falls, turning to leave once more, limp and all.

…

The joy of your win doesn’t last long, an entire night to be exact, because come early morning Eddie Munson is standing by your locker with crossed arms and a glare. You spot him from down the hall, turning quickly in an effort to escape before he calls out your name in an aggravated huff.

“I already saw you.” He snaps, hands flying in an aggravated manner as he remains leaning. “And I will chase you but I’m not really in the mood so if you could-”

Knowing he won you turn back, charging for your locker and practically shoving him to the side when he refuses to move. He barely moves, his mouth opening as you get your door open, eyes widening just an inch as you push the door into his face to block him out and grab your books.

“Okay, I’d like to avoid a broken nose today, thank you ve- Hey. Come on.” He snaps, watching you close the door and turn to stomp off, coming to follow you. “Are you really making this a big fight?”

“Shove off.”

“We never fight like this. Come on. And then I gotta hear from Gareth that you’re getting tutored? And you’re limping around?” You nearly laugh at how betrayed he looks, brown eyes wide and lips downturned as he keeps pace with you, hands digging through his bag before a familiar folder is pulled out and you stop in your tracks. “And now you’re looking into Holly Sampers?”

“It’s not-”

“Is that how you got hurt?! You were looking into this bullshit?! Is that why you haven’t called me back?” It’s funny, it really is, that two weeks ago you had walked home sobbing and now Eddie is standing before you acting like HE got his heartbroken.

“Would you cut it out?” You snap, snatching the photo back and trying to smooth out a crease. “This is for the paper, it’s just a memory piece or something.”

“Quit lying-”

“I’m not! I’m not lying.” Your voice is getting louder as you wave the picture around. “This is for the paper. Go run and tell your friends now! You guys can laugh about it all you want. Nancy Drew the boring journalist. Just FUCK OFF!”

You had gone years without cussing, and within the last two weeks you had racked up quite the tally of bad words. Never once in your history had you ever cussed at Eddie let alone yelled at him like you just did. Until now, and the second you both hear it echo in the hallway it’s like a startling realization of what is happening.

You weren’t friends anymore.

You had gone from being head over heels for Eddie to wanting nothing to do with him in the same way he had made it clear he wanted less of you. Less is more. More is less. But in this case, with your heart clenching the way it was and the shaking in your hands you just wanted nothing. Nothing at all.

“Wayne is doing his birthday dinner this we-”

“I’m busy. Plans. You can come up with whatever excuse you want since we both seem to know what a pathetic loser I am.” You smile, but it just feels empty, and you don’t feel like you’ve won when you walk away. You just feel like you’ve been a fool for most of your life. Wondering how long Eddie had been waiting to get rid of you.

…

Lunch hour was spent in your own version of a mental breakdown, which meant smiling at the bored librarian as your brain wrapped around every embarrassing moment you had experienced in the past 14 years, all of which you had never considered embarrassing until recently.

Had he been annoyed when he was the only one at your birthday party 8th grade year? Was he laughing on the way home how it was just your dad and his uncle singing happy birthday?

“I was looking for a yearbook. I’m doing a memory article for- I just need to see who checked out the yearbook for 1971.” You explain, blinking as she blinks back at you.

“Of course dear. Give me a moment.” She stands, brown skirt swishing at her ankles as she steps down from the help desk and heads to the back. You tap your knuckles on the counter and pretend to care about things in the library.

The purple couches looked new.

He probably thought you were clingy when you brought the snacks for an impromptu movie night when he moved into Wayne’s…. And when you stupidly tried cleaning his room.

You nearly groan at the memory, turning until you spot a new poster. Wow. So nice, keep looking at the poster and get out of your head about-

When you went to the trailer park for Halloween, he had never actually asked you to come. Idiot.

Or the spelling bee, every morning you went to sit by him and -

“Dear?” The librarian calls, giving you an odd look. “Are you alright? I’ve been calling you for a moment.”

“I’m fine. Just so much schoolwork.”

“Oh. Well you need to take care of yourself you know? My daughter gets the biggest stress acne, or at least that’s what she claims it is. I think it’s a mix of all that makeup she’s putting on her face. Back in my day-“

“Who checked out the yearbook?” You interrupt, trying to place a smile on your face.

“Oh! Right. My records show that it was never checked out. Should be on the shelf, if not it was stolen.”

“Someone stole a yearbook?”

“Oh! You’re doing one of your little mysteries?! Nancy Drew cracking the case of the-“

“Missing tutor, missing yearbook. Missing the point.” You scoff, walking off without so much as a goodbye. It didn’t make sense, who would steal a yearbook?

It’s not like any of the students here truly cared about those yearbooks, often times they are used as decoration, no one really cared about classes before them. Unless of course it was someone who was in that class.

Which would lead to a teacher.

Which teachers at the school were here in 1971? Only 2 would have been in that class. But there were at least three that have been teaching here since the 70s.

If you had your sleuthing kit you would make a list of names and - no! No. No. No.

This was not a case, merely a book probably used as decoration and thrown out.

No more Nancy Drew. You were sick of being laughed at. And you were going to hold your word on that until you spotted the yearbook. You had taken to sitting in the back row of your English clash, that was currently being taught by Mr. Daniels who HAD gone to school here in the 70s. And when you stretched, a totally normal stretch, you took a brief look around the room just to see. And see you did. The corner of the book was peeking out from behind a file cabinet to the side. Odd.

You stare at the book until the bell rings, making you jump a bit as Mr. Daniels walks to the door to say goodbye to everyone. He had his eyes on the entire room, he would see you reach to grab the book. So you were a bit screwed.

Just as you were beginning to come up with ways you could sneak back in a male voice pulls your attention, and all you can do is blink when Joseph Storm smiles at you. “You need me to distract him?”

“If you wouldn’t mind?” You smile back, already moving closer to the file cabinet as Joseph moves to the front, tripping right in front of Mr. Daniel’s and drawing his attention just long enough you could match the yearbook before rushing out of the classroom.

“Did you get it?” Joseph asks, excitement on his face when he catches up to where you stood by the windows.

“Get what?” Another voice butts in, Gareth moving to stand by you both.

“The yearbook.” Joseph points to it, watching you flip through before coming to stand at your side to peer down with you. “What were you lookin for?”

“Just…. Her.” You explain when the prom page comes up, pointing to her picture before thumbing at the words written beneath her. “Missing. But not dead. What’s that mean?”

“Holly Sampers. She’s the prom queen that went missing AT her prom-“ Joseph begins before Gareth is cutting in, a wild look to his eyes. “Yeah! She told her friend she was going to the bathroom and like vanished without a trace!”

“Right….” Joseph nods. “They searched for weeks. Didn’t find anything connected to the case went cold.”

“Okay…. So why would Mr. Daniels have stolen this yearbook from the library?” You question to yourself, flipping through the pages to see if there are anymore handwritten messages as Gareth nods wildly.

“Good question! You know who might be able to help? Eddie. Eddie comes up with the best ideas-“

His voice cuts off when a letter falls from the pages, dragging all of you to look down to the floor. Gareth and Joseph reach to snatch it at the same time, Joseph just barely making it before he stands up to hand it to you.

“Nancy Drew, got her spark back.” He winks, fixing his backpack on his shoulder. “Let me know if you need a ride after school. I’m dying to see how this mystery unfolds.”

You can’t fight the flush that spreads through you, body heating as your heartbeat accelerates, just barely fighting the urge to cover your mouth as a nervous giggle spills out, watching him walk down the hall with a couple looks back in your direction.

“What the hell?” Gareth blurts, looking offended as you turn to him. “What the hell?”

“Is there a reason you’re here?”

“You told Eddie you’re not investigating!” He blurts, pointing an accusing finger at you as if he’s calling you a witch during the trials. “You lied!”

“I’m not. This is for the memorial piece-“

“Oh don’t you start that spew with me Nancy Drew.” It’s funny how one moment you could be blushing at the nickname and the next feel just as miserable about it as you had days ago. “You got that look in your eye. The look that means Eddie is about to be missing campaign night to run around town with you-“

“I’m not investigating.” You sigh again, moving to walk away, rolling your eyes when he follows. “And you don’t have to worry about your friend missing more campaigns. He and his girlfriend can disappear for all I care. You’ve got him till the end of time.”

“That’s not true. The second you call he’ll rush off-“

“I won’t call.” It was the truth, so when you turn to face him you don’t feel bad about lying. “I’m done with all that. No more clingy freak.”

“No one said clingy or freak.” He grimaces, face getting a little red. “And no one is saying you can’t-“

“I won’t call, Gareth. I swear it.” You even cross your heart, making a motion of locking it up and throwing away the imaginary key before heading off.

And the second you are out of his sight the letter is torn open in your hands, pages unfolding as you walk through the halls.

So here’s a question. Why would Mr. Daniels steal a yearbook? Better yet, why would Mr. Daniels be hiding a love letter written to a missing girl dated the day she disappeared?

-

The Case Of The Threatening Call.

The letter sits on your desk by your science homework, and you are pointedly ignoring both as you fold laundry, yet the small issue with ignoring things is ignoring them never actually works. Instead you just sit there and think about them non stop as you obsess over ignoring them.

It isn’t until you hear the phone ring, folding your last shirt, that you look back to where they sit, debating on if you should at least get the homework out of the way.

“Hey! Phones for you!” Your dad calls from down the stairs.

“I’m busy!” You call back, not bothering to head for the door.

“It’s Eds! Says it’s really important! I’m not taking another message from this damn boy so get down here.” For someone who was claiming you had been clingy a couple weeks ago the tables sure have turned. You are thinking of saying as much when you head down and grab the phone, and you nearly do until the receiver is just to your ear and you panic, slamming it back on the dial quickly before blinking at it. Damn you were brave. Not a coward at all.

That is until the phone rings again and you jump back.

“Dad!”

“I’m not your receptionist!”

With a roll of your eyes you pick it up, dragging it to your ear. “Eddie I’m bus-“

“Quit looking into the prom queen.” A raspy voice sounds out. “Quit while your ahead. Or you’ll be gutted just like her.”

This time when you hang up the phone it is pure panic, shaking hands and shortness of breath, slamming the receiver down so hard it sounds out through the house before you are rushing upstairs to your room again, throwing the door open.

You notice it immediately, the open window and the lack of a familiar envelope on your desk.

Shit….. they even took your science homework.

-

The Case Of The Nap Time.

It had been a long night after that, from checking all the locks 4 times and making up a bed on the couch which confused your father to no end. And even when you were laying on the couch you still jumped and panicked at every slight sound. Every creak, every wind gush hitting the windows.

You had gotten no sleep that night.

Nor the next night.

Or the night after that.

Running on coffee stolen from your dads morning pot and sugary drinks, damn near on a crash but paranoid enough to try and stay awake.

Someone had threatened to gut you, someone was in your house.

What if they did something to Holly? And what if they had done the same to you?

It all came crashing down the night of your prom, you were wearing a peach style dress with tons of frills, a simple scarf tied around your neck that kept snagging on everything as you ran from someone. Someone with wide shoulders and -

The sound of slamming wakes you from a dream you hadn’t even known you were having, and you look around in a panic as you realize that you had fallen asleep in the library of all places.

“We came here to say sorry.” Jeff sighs, giving Doug a glare as the textbook that had just been slammed to wake you up is in his hands. “We weren’t being fair. Eddie just wants us all to-“

“You sound like you rehearsed this.” Gareth interrupts, making Jeff turn his glare to him. “What? You do!”

“Then let’s see what you have!”

“Fine. Eddie is really sorry and we are sorry for being asses too. There, all better! Come on Nancy Drew. Let’s go get Ed-“

“You liked Trish.” You note, blinking at him through the fog of your nap. “You liked Trish and now that I’m not crazy clinger he’s hanging around more and she’s hanging around him most of all.”

“I wouldn’t-“

“You’re wearing her bracelet.” A cute purple and red friendship bracelet. One quite like what Dana Mitchell wore everyday. They must be friends. Gareths hand comes up to cover the bracelet, giving you an odd look. “Don’t bother lying. I can see the puppy dog look on your face. Like recognizes like.”

“Damn Gareth. She got you.” Jeff laughs until Gareth punches his shoulder.

“I gotta get to class..” Doug growls out. “And I don’t want to be on Munsons shit list when this goes sideways.”

With that he is off, rushing out while the other two take a seat across from you.

“We propose to share Eddie 50/50.”

“I’ll pass.”

“40/60.”

“I’m not gonna sit here and bid on someone’s time when they’ve made it clear they don’t want me to.” You scoff, pushing your book forward.

“That’s the thing. He’s miserable now.” Jeff growls, rolling his eyes. “Whiny. You you you. Everything is about you. You like this for breakfast and if the two of you were hanging out right now you would be cracking this joke.”

His words make your heart beat pick up, until you remember just how quick Eddie was to snap at you the other day. Always around me. Always attached. So codependent.

“Can we just save the drama?” You whine, beginning to form a headache.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Gareth blurts, giving you a judgy look before Jeff nods with him.

“I…..” technically they had woken you up, and you could say that. But you’re so tired. “Someone was in my house. I have been struggling to-“

“Someone was in your house?” Gareth snaps, leaning forward.

“It’s no big deal. They just took something small. Nothing else.” You rush out, already regretting this.

“The letter. They took that letter didn’t they?” He rushes out, already beginning to stand. “What else?”

“Nothing-“

“Liar.” Jeff adds.

“Fine. I got a call. It was just a prank- where are you going?”

“To get Eddie?” He says it like it should be obvious, like Eddie was the next choice. You immediately shake your head.

“No. Come on. It’s fine.”

“You know we gotta tell him. Otherwise he’s gonna be pissed off.” Jeff explains.

“You don’t. Really. Come on. Isn’t tonight your campaign stuff? You want him there for that right?” You know you got them the second Jeff narrows his eyes.

“Fine. But we tell him tomorrow morning.” He snaps, grabbing Gareth by the shoulder and hauling him out.

Perfect. You just had until tomorrow morning to solve this cas…… problem. Solve the problem.

Step one. Lovers lane. Which Mr. Daniels had asked Holly to meet him in the letter.

You waited until after school, and after dinner, then you snatched up your bike and got ready to head over there, a shakey feeling in your stomach.

The first two blocks were easy, the third is when you realized you were being followed, so you tried speeding up with the pedals, taking last minute turns as the car following you sped up.

You take a quick cut into the alley, expecting to lose them, only when you come out the other end the car is there, hitting your bike as the brakes squeal out. You go flying over the hood, hands finding purchase on the glass of the front window before before rolling forward at the force of fhe brake, flying off the hood and onto the street below.

“Fuck! Are you crazy?!” Gareth yells, hopping out the driver side to come help pick you up off the street. “Come on. I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No im fine. You barely got me.” You rush out, standing to punch him in the face. He yells out, falling on his ass and holding his nose as you stare down at him. “Why are you following me?!”

“Oh my god-“

“Were you the one that called me?!”

“No! Fuck! No! Don’t hit me again!” He panics, sliding back on the sidewalk to avoid you. “From all the stories- fuck I’m bleeding.”

“Wasting my time!” You warn.

“Fuck! Okay, Eddie is constantly talking about you and from everything he’s said I knew you wouldn’t just let it drop. And so- ugh- I ditched DnD to come find you which wasn’t hard cause you were already sneaking out!”

“So you’re here to what?”

“Help?”

“You’re gonna help me?”

“Just get in the car..” he snaps, standing up to haul your bike, which now has a dented tire. With no other choice to get in, watching him toss the bike into the trunk before getting in the drivers seat, using his flannel to try and stop the nose bleed.

“Who taught you to hit like that?”

“Wayne.” You mumble, looking out the window as you remember the night he taught you and Eddie self defense. It had been right after the Halloween parade when you had been chased by someone in a zombie mask until Eddie hit them with a rake.

“Where were you heading?”

“Lovers lane.”

“I’m not driving you to lovers lake. That’s in the woods-“

“Lane. Lovers Lane. It’s from older times. Where they used to go.” You groan, moving to open the car door before he stops you, starting the car. “Why are you helping me? Shouldnt you be laughing at me?”

“We never meant to…… Eddie is just really cool and we always kinda saw you like a goodie two shoes.” He explains, driving down the road. “We didn’t really want to get along with you. And every time Eddie missed a campaign we always blamed you. But Eddie constantly talks about you, his entire planet orbits around you.”

Yeah, you think. What bullshit.

“I wouldn’t say that.” You huff, trying to ignore the tight feeling forming in your throat or the way your voice breaks a bit. “He was pretty truthful and nasty that day at the diner.”

“Nasty? Maybe. But truthful? Not even close.” Gareth sighs. “We had been bashing on him pretty hard. Had been making fun of him, calling him lovesick and stuff.”

“Is it really that big of a laugh to think me likable?” You snap, trying to swipe away a stray tear quickly. Of course they made fun of him for those things, with you always hanging off of him like a lovesick puppy and all. It was embarrassing. “Was I that easily read?”

“No. We just knew he-“

“Up there. You can drop me off there.” And he is quick to pull over, watching you jump out quickly and move to grab your bike. Only he hops out and goes to help. “What are you doing? I got it from here.”

“Bullshit. I’m not leaving you here alone.” He huffs back, giving you a glare. “Leave the bike. Look at what you came to look at.”

You nod, hating that this is where your night led, turning to go look before stopping short. “I don’t have my bag.”

“So?”

“It has my flashlight. And camera.”

“I….. I might have one.” He walks around the car, digging into the passenger box before pulling one out, handing it to you. It seems natural, and you wait for a snippy response until you realize he is waiting on you to lead the way.

This is when it gets awkward. You’re so used to Eddie, the way he hovers and looks at things over your shoulder. Gareth? Not so much. He’s jumpy, every sound makes him freak, which is making you feed off his energy. He keeps a hand on your jacket, wound tight like a dog on a leash as you look around.

“Why are we here anyways?” He asks, flinching when you step on a twig.

“It was in that letter. Mr. Daniels wrote a love letter to Holly the day she disappeared asking to meet here. I want to see if there is anything saying they might have .”

“Hasn’t it been like 10 years? And no one comes here anymore. We go to lovers lake now.”

“That’s not true. People who are embarrassed or don’t wanna get caught by classmates come here. Like Brenda and Tommy-“ you stop before remembering what Brenda had said to you that day. Her and Tommy had gotten caught and Hopper accused them of carving in the tree. “Look at the trees. For a carving”

It takes a minute before you spot it. H.S. + B.C. Carved into a tree. “That looks fresh.” Gareth notes as you run a hand over it. “And deep. Someone must add to it a lot so it doesn’t disappear.”

“You’d really have to love someone for that.” You ponder, staring at it.

“What the fuck?!” Gareth panics, his entire body moving as he rushes to remove his shirt, turning his back to you. “What just bit me?!”

“I don’t see anything!” You rush back, looking at his back.

“Look harder!” He snaps, and you take to feeling for a bump before a pair of headlights makes you both freeze. “The light. Turn the light off now!”

You do as he says, but not before adding “they are right by your car. They know people are here.”

“I will not be dying with Nancy Drew in the woods. Let’s go.” He snatches your arm, attempting to hide you both further, squatting behind a bush like idiots. The sounds of doors slamming fills the air and Gareth flinches while you paw at the ground beneath you for something to fight with. Your hand ends up finding…. A ring?

“On the count of three we run. Got it?” Gareth whispers and you nod, then the idiot doesn’t even count he just books it. Launching into the night with you trying to keep up.

You break the tree line, and see the freedom of his car before a blur of motion and someone is attacking Gareth. Tackling him to the ground until they both slide and you see Eddie pulling his hand back to punch.

“Wait stop!” You call, rushing to stop his arm as Jeff moves to intervene as well, both of you shoving Eddie off. “It’s Gareth. You’re attacking Gareth.”

“I’m fucking aware.” Eddie barks out as Jeff pushes him back again, his eyes wild and fists still clenched. You move to help Gareth up, turning him to inspect the damage on his back, scraped up pretty bad. Most of them bleeding and “Hey. I see the bite mark.”

A slight laugh pulls from you as you touch the mark a little bit before another blur of motion and Gareth is pushed from you with Eddie’s back in your face.

“I should break your jaw.”

“What did I do?” Gareth questions, face pinched with confusion.

“You ditch DnD after giving me shit for weeks, Jeff here tells me that you came to find her and-“

“You’re attacking me cause I missed DnD?!”

“I’m attacking you cause you’re at Lovers lane with your SHIRT OFF!” Eddie exclaims, the zipper of his leather jacket catching in the light. “And you obviously know you’re doing wrong with the way you were trying not to get caught!”

“His shirts off cause he was bit by something.” You interject, pointing over Eddie’s shoulder until he slaps your hand away and turns a slight glare at you. “And he only brought me cause he hit me with his car.”

“Hit you with a car?!” Eddie exclaims, a vein popping in his forehead before his gaze travels across you looking for something. His hands fly to your jaw, thumbs rubbing softly as he inspects. “Are you hurt? Anything hurt? Your eyes are dilated- her eyes are dilated Gareth-“

“Her eyes are not- she hit me in the face!” Gareth protests before Eddie spots your bike.

“How hard did you hit her?!” He lets go of you to pull at the bent tire, turning and all but growling at Gareth.

“She was sneaking out after being threatened!”

And just like that Eddie’s glare is turned to you. “Threatened?!”

“Oh barely.”

“Someone broke into her house-“ Jeff adds, and Eddie looks damn near ready to shoot himself as his eyes close and hands come up to rub his head.

“Someone. Broke. Into. Your. House. And you were threatened? Yet you’re still out biking around town? Why didn’t you call me…….. or- you could have called me.” His eyes open as he glares at you, and you hate the twisted feeling forming in your gut at the look, beginning to make you feel guilty.

“You made it clear you didn’t want me to-“ you start, even though the argument feels useless in this moment. It’s especially useless when Eddie rushes you, pushing your back into what you now recognize as his van as his face comes level with yours. “Enough.”

“You’re the one that-“

“Enough.” He repeats, glaring. “You’ve made your point. We will sort it out later. Right now you tell me everything.”

“I already told you-“

“She was looking into Holly Scampers. Realized the yearbook from that year was stolen and then found it in Mr. Daniel’s room. Then that Joseph kid distracted him so she could steal it and then he flirted with her like an ass and was all ‘Nancy Drew got her spark back’. -bleh- you know? And then she found a letter and that Joseph kid asked if she needed help -bleh- and then the letter got stolen and now she’s here and we just found a carving in a tree.” Gareth explains, making Jeff laugh with the impersonations of Joseph. Eddie? He didn’t laugh, in fact he didn’t take his eyes off you.

“Anything else you wanna add?” He mutters, looking up at you through his lashes.

“Nope.”

“She fell asleep during study hall today-“

“Gareth!” You groan. “Apart of sleuthing is shutting your damn mouth!”

“How was I supposed to know that? No one gave me a rulebook and you hit me in the face!”

“After you hit me with your car!” You argue, moving to push past Eddie though he doesn’t allow you, casting a side glance at the boys before turning to glare at you.

“We’re done. Get in.”

“No. I’ll go with Gareth.” You argue, only to see Jeff already hopping in his car. “Fucking traitor.”

“Just get in. I’ll take you home.” He repeats, opening the passenger door for you with a tense smile.

“Right home?”

“Yup.”

“No detours?”

“None.”

“You promise?”

“Swear it, Nancy Drew.”

“Don’t call me that.” You snap, taking a deep breath in before moving past him to get in the car without glancing back. He, aggravatingly so, waits until your buckled and even stops to inspect a cut on your knee before slamming the door and rounding the car.

“It smells terrible in here.” You scoff, leaning as far away from him as possible and rolling down your window.

“I need to get a new air freshener.” He explains, fingers reaching up to flick the old one. “Had other things on my mind recently. Believe it or not.”

Yeah, a gorgeous girlfriend that your best friend is in love with you think bitterly before leaning your head against the door frame and letting the night air hit you.

Your eyes snap awake when the door moves open, looking around in a panic before they land on where Eddie stands with a grimace, hand extended to help you out of the van. “Come on. Let’s go.”

You ignore his hand, hopping down on your own before stopping short. “You said no detours. Right home.”

“I did.” He smiles innocently, closing the door and locking it before walking up casually, his feet crunching on the gravel beneath him.

“This isn’t my home.”

“Ah, see there’s the problem. I said home. I never said which home.” He fakes a grimace, snapping in an “aw shucks” manner before heading to his porch with a bounce in his step. You, with no bike and no car, are doomed to follow. He makes a show of unlocking the door, bowing as you pass him to get in with a “milady”.

You don’t laugh or smile, simply walking in and spotting Wayne’s empty chair.

“Already at work.” Eddie explains, making a show of locking the door before moving to check all the windows. “Come on.”

“We can stay out here.” You snap.

“Or we can go to my room where I have the bandaids.”

“Or you can grab the bandaids and bring them out here.” The thought of entering his space, the space you were once comfortable in and the space that he probably spends with his girlfriend, sounded like the last thing you wanted to do. Your chest felt tight and your eyes burned with tears as you turned away to pretend and look around even though nothing had actually changed in the three weeks since you’d been here last.

Right before the last day of the burglary case when you had eaten cereal with Eddie on the living room floor while Wayne sang off tune in the shower.

“I don’t wanna fight with you.” Eddie sighs. “I hate fighting with you.”

“I don’t really need the bandaid.” You shrug, hands melting into your pockets. “It’s just a simple cut.”

“Please.” He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear before moving closer to herd you in. “Just come get a bandaid.”

And so you follow, trudging through the hall to his room and shuffling in before him, noting the lack of any messes. And then you realize just how spotless his room was. Eddie Munson cleaned his room.

Of course he did. He had a girlfriend now, he’d want his rook to be clean. The realization hits you like a freight train, imagining Trish looking around the room in her own eyes. Getting to see Eddie and getting to see his Knick knacks.

“If you want to sit-“

“I’m good.” You rush out, cheeks heating up as you refuse to look at the bed he had been gesturing to before he gives you an odd look and pulls out the desk chair. You don’t say anything as you sit down, letting the wood dig into your back while he sits at the end of the bed and pulls your leg to him.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” He breathes out, letting his fingers roam around your knee near where the cut ended up, like he was trying to x ray with just his vision. “You got hit with a car.”

“A love tap. I think Gareth and I bonded from it. We’ll share fond memories one day. Remember that time you love tapped me by lovers lane?”

“Can you please stop referring to it like that? How about buddy tap? He- no that doesn’t sound better.”

“Gareth love tapped me hard. So hard my knees shook.” You tease, a smile cracking your face, only for it to die out when Eddie doesn’t bother laughing. His jaw is tight, and he’s inspecting your knee like it’s the last thing on this earth before reaching to grab a bandaid and cover the cut, fingers ghosting your skin before you pull back.

“You done? I’m all patched up?”

“What’d they say?” His voice is croaky, but his gaze is intent. “On the phone?”

“Nothing much. Wanted to chat about the weather.”

“Come on.”

“They said they were you. They called and my dad picked up, they said it was an emergency and that it was you but when I came down I hung up. So they called again, and said to stop digging or…. They’d gut me.” You finish admitting it all in a rush, but he’s heard it based on the way he hisses.

“It was me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No. The call before them. It was me. I called. I said there was an emergency. You hung up on me.” You shrug, and a smile nearly makes it onto his face before he’s back to glaring. “They threatened to gut you? And you’re still out looking into it?”

“Well not really. Gareth and Jeff threatened to tell you and gave me until tomorrow so I went to find whoever did it tonight.” You explain, looking down to your hands to pick around your nail.

“Whyd you tell them and not me?” His voice is strained, and you can tell he’s struggling to make eye contact where you keep avoiding it.

“They cornered me at study hall. Woke me up and-“

“They should have told me.” Eddie growls, and you huff at it. “You should be nice to Gareth. He saved my life tonight.”

“He hit you with a car.”

“Love tapped.” You correct.

“Buddy tapped.” He seethes, reaching up to flick your nose. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“Study hall.” You smile, leaning back in the chair. “You?”

As if noticing your glances around the room he turns to look around himself, scratching at the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “Ah well. I’ve- I cleaned it for-“

“You know Gareth likes her, right?”

“Who?” He blurts, eyes laced with confusion.

“That Trish girl. He likes her. So you should be careful about rubbing it in his face.”

“Trish? Rubbing what in his face? That she’s annoying?”

“Gareth thinks you’re dating her.”

“Gareth hit you with a ca-“

“Love tapped.”

“Buddy tap- enough. No more talking about Gareth. You’re stalling sleeping.” He huffs, pointing a finger at you. “I see it.”

“I’m not sleeping here. You can take me home.”

“What? So you can not sleep there? Come on. I’m not stupid.” He argues, eyes narrowing. “You saw me lock all the windows. You know that any cars are gonna be heard on the gravel outside and anyone coming from the back has to go through Lenny.” He lists, making you smile at the mention of the dog that lives with his neighbor. “You need sleep.”

“Fine. I’ll take the couch.” You snap, moving to stand before he rolls his eyes.

“I’m not making up the couch for you princess. Wayne will be back by 5. You can sleep on the bed. I’ll stay above covers.” He offers, moving to his closet to toss you a shirt which you blatantly ignore and let fall to the ground as you take off your boots and move to his bed.

You had given easily. Far too easily. If the edges of your vision weren’t beginning to blacken you’d have put up more of a fight.

Tomorrow. You promise. Tomorrow you’d yell at him.

And it’s easy to fall asleep, under his covers with your face shoved in one of his pillows, knowing he was near and someone would have your back if anything went wrong.

That was so damn tragic about the whole thing.

-

I ended up splitting io the second part into multiple cause it was so dang long yall.

Want more?

[saltinesinsoup]

i want to throw a hissyfit so bad right now. like full on toddler tantrum. but i won't. i'm so strong

[formulaonecrumbs]

hi!! i’ve just like binge read all of your stuff and it’s so beautifully written

do you think you could do a charles fic with the co-parenting to lovers trope? like their kid helps them get together or like he flys out to see their kid and realizes that life is so much better with them? i have a whole like plot im sorry 😭

stay a little longer 🕯️

Charles Leclerc x ex(?)!reader

summary: co-parenting finally turns into something more when their daughter decides it’s time for a date.

warnings: co-parenting to lovers, kid matchmaker, suggestive content, kissing, car makeout, implied smut, love confessions, second chances

A/N: thank u anon for the requuessttt!!! i feel like i still don’t write charles very well 😭 like yes i believe the guy is romantic but i think i made that his whole personality in this WHOOPS. random but i love when drivers have girlfriends cuz now i got sm material for the mood-boards. i hope u enjoy it and as always love u ❤️

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

you never expected him to show up.

not like this, not without warning, not with that soft look in his eyes and a suitcase in his hand.

it’s been almost six months since you saw charles leclerc in person. six months since he kissed your cheek at the airport and promised he’d try to visit more. six months of facetime calls with your daughter holding your phone too close to her face, grinning with her tiny teeth and telling him she lost another one. six months of you pretending that you were completely fine raising her mostly alone while he chased podiums around the world.

but now he’s standing on your porch like it’s nothing. like he’s not the father of your child and also the person who once broke your heart in the softest, most unintentional way.

“hi,” he says.

you blink. “charles? what—what are you doing here?”

he looks down at his shoes. he’s wearing sneakers that used to live in your hallway. the ones your daughter would trip over every time she tried to run to the door. “i had a week off. i wanted to see her.”

you let him in because you always do. because she misses him even when she doesn’t say it, and because you’ve never been able to fully close the door on him.

your daughter screams ‘daddy!’ the second she hears him. he drops his bag and catches her mid-run, spinning her around in the tiny living room you’ve made your home. you watch from the kitchen, hands still on the mug you were making, heart doing something stupid and warm and dangerous in your chest.

“you’re not leaving tonight, are you?” she asks him, small hands on his cheeks.

he shakes his head. “not tonight. not for a few days, actually.”

and you swear, you see her little face light up with something more than excitement. something like hope.

it’s not supposed to be easy, but it is.

charles fits back into your space like he never left. he sleeps on the couch and does the dishes after dinner. he drives her to school in the mornings and makes up silly songs about brushing her teeth. he folds laundry while you’re at work and lets her paint his nails on the weekends.

and you keep waiting for it to feel like a mistake. to feel like a tease, like you’re slipping back into something that already ended.

but instead, it feels like healing.

like late nights where he sits across from you, whispering stories about races she’s too young to hear. like laughing over wine after she’s gone to bed, both of you tipsy on nostalgia and something heavier. something that tastes like maybe.

he doesn’t flirt. not really. but sometimes, he looks at you like he remembers every moment you ever shared. and sometimes, when he thinks you’re not paying attention, he stares at you like you hung the stars.

it happens on a tuesday.

you’re rushing to get out the door for work. your daughter can’t find her other shoe and you’ve already yelled twice, which always makes you feel like a terrible mother. charles is standing in the kitchen, packing her lunch like he’s done it every morning for the past year instead of the last five days.

and then she says it.

“daddy, are you staying forever now?”

you freeze. so does he.

“because i think you should,” she continues, completely unaware of the tension she’s stirred up. “you make mommy laugh again. and you’re really good at pancakes.”

charles doesn’t look at you. he kneels down and kisses her forehead. “i love you, chérie,” he says quietly.

you don’t talk about it.

not until later, when she’s asleep and you’re both sitting on the back steps with a blanket around your shoulders and the sky full of stars.

“she wants us to be a family,” you whisper.

charles’s voice is soft. “i do too.”

your chest tightens. “charles…”

“i know,” he says. “i know i left. i know i haven’t been here like i should have. and i’m not trying to ask you to just forget it. but i want to be here now. not just for her. for you, too.”

you stare at your hands. your heart. the little cracks that never quite healed after he left.

“why now?” you ask.

he takes a breath. “because every time i see her smile, i see you. and every time i talk to her, i wish you were beside me. and because… i thought i was doing the right thing. giving you space. letting you live your life without the mess of mine. but i’ve never been more wrong.”

you look at him. really look. and he looks scared. vulnerable in a way he never is behind the wheel. and you realize, in this quiet moment under the stars, that maybe you’ve been scared too.

you don’t say anything. you just reach out, take his hand, and let your fingers intertwine like they never stopped knowing how to.

he moves in slowly.

a toothbrush at first. then a drawer. then he’s picking her up from school without you asking, buying groceries like he knows the list by heart. you fall back into love like it’s muscle memory. slow, steady, familiar. this time, without the fear.

your daughter starts calling you her “mommy and daddy house.” she draws pictures of the three of you holding hands, all smiling with the sun in the corner.

one night, she asks if you and daddy are married again.

charles chuckles. “not yet, chérie.”

you shoot him a look. “not funny.”

he leans in, his voice low against your ear. “it could be.”

and you feel it again—that dangerous, stupid hope that maybe this time, it’s real.

because he came back. because he stayed. because your little girl believed in love enough to put it back together. and because this time, you’re ready to believe in it too.

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

she catches you holding his hand in the kitchen.

it’s not a big deal, really. just fingers brushing as you pass him the milk. but charles catches your pinky with his, gives it a gentle squeeze, and you smile in that way you only ever do with him.

your daughter sees it all from her seat at the table, eating cereal like it’s the most important meal of her life.

“are you guys in love again?” she asks, spoon halfway to her mouth.

charles pauses, milk almost spilling over the edge of his glass. “what?”

“you heard me,” she says, chewing dramatically.

you shoot charles a look. he shrugs, trying not to laugh.

“i think you are,” she continues, totally unfazed. “you look at each other like the people in mommy’s movies. and you sleep on the couch together sometimes. and daddy made you pancakes in a heart shape.”

you can’t even deny that one. he really did.

“okay,” she says, pushing her bowl away. “it’s time.”

“time for what?” you ask, even though you already know.

“you’re going on a date.”

charles raises an eyebrow. “we are?”

she nods. “yes. i’ll stay with mamie. and you two can go somewhere fancy. with candles and music. and then you’ll kiss.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “what is it with you and kissing lately?”

she grins. “uncle pierre says it’s how people fall in love.”

charles makes a face. “i’m going to block his number.”

you get ready while she helps charles pick out a shirt. you hear her scolding him for choosing the boring grey one and insisting he wears the one with the tiny flowers because “mommy likes when you look like a soft boy.”

you come out in a dress that hasn’t seen the light of day in years and charles just stands there, looking like he forgot how to breathe.

“wow,” he says softly. “you look…”

you raise a brow. “like a soft girl?”

he laughs. “like the girl i’ve been in love with since before i even knew it.”

you blink.

he smiles, nervous and sweet and very charles. “too much?”

“no,” you say, cheeks warm. “just enough.”

you drive to a little italian restaurant tucked away in the quieter part of town. it’s dimly lit, with fairy lights above the patio and old music playing inside. it’s romantic in a kind of unintentional way. the kind of place that doesn’t try too hard because it doesn’t need to.

charles pulls your chair out for you and keeps glancing across the table like he’s still trying to figure out if this is real.

“this feels weird,” you say, sipping your wine. “in a good way. but weird.”

he nods. “like we’re pretending we’re not already a family.”

you smile. “yeah.”

“but i want this too,” he adds, eyes soft. “the dating part. the butterflies.”

you meet his gaze. “you still get butterflies?”

he reaches across the table, lacing your fingers with his. “every time you look at me like this.”

and god, you feel it too. that flutter. that full-body warmth that only ever comes when you’re really, really falling.

after dinner, he takes your hand and suggests a walk. it’s chilly but not cold, and the stars are out like someone painted them just for tonight.

“this is the part where we kiss under the moonlight,” you joke, bumping your shoulder into his.

charles stops walking.

“what?” you ask, turning.

he steps closer. “i was waiting for the right moment.”

your breath catches. “is this it?”

he nods, eyes flicking to your mouth. “yeah. i think it is.”

and when he kisses you, it’s slow and soft and everything you’ve been missing for years. it’s full of promises and apologies and second chances. it tastes like wine and laughter and home.

you stay like that for a long time, under the stars and the streetlamp, kissing like you’re twenty and just discovering how good it feels to be wanted.

when you get home, the lights are low and the house is quiet. your daughter is asleep, curled up in her bed with her stuffed giraffe and the nightlight glowing faintly beside her.

charles shuts the door gently behind you.

you turn to him, heart racing, still a little breathless from the night.

“so…” you whisper.

he walks toward you, slow, eyes locked on yours. “so.”

“was this the part where we’re supposed to kiss again?”

he nods, grinning. “definitely.”

he backs you into the couch and kisses you until you’re both laughing and gasping and tangled in each other. his hands in your hair, your arms around his neck, the world spinning just slightly off its axis in the best way.

“we probably shouldn’t wake her,” you mumble against his mouth.

“then we’ll be quiet,” he whispers back, kissing down your neck.

you end up in the car—because it’s late and you can’t quite make it upstairs, and also because there’s something wildly thrilling about being wrapped around each other in the dark leather seats, trying not to fog up the windows too much.

his hands on your thighs, your lips tracing every freckle on his collarbone, his voice low and hoarse as he says your name like a prayer.

after, you sit in the front seat, legs curled into his lap, his hand resting gently on your bare knee.

“we should do this again,” you say, grinning against his shoulder.

charles kisses your temple. “i plan on it.”

and you believe him. completely.

because this time, he’s not just here for the night. this time, he’s here to stay.

THE END :>

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

[1-800-local-slut]

Hey bestie , I don't know if you've watched steven universe but I wanted to ask if you could please do a garnet inspired reader or pink diamond inspired reader for mark grayson . Imagine fusion happening between mark and reader . A whole new experience especially seeing a fusion dance .

Glowing Rock

Oooooo I love the way you think! Steven Universe used to be my shit fr, I used to watch that show day in day out like it was my job during COVID! I went the Pink Diamond route; I wasn't sure how I could write in a reader like Garnet because of her whole thing going on (I'm trying not to spoil it). Thank you for the request pookie, this is gonna be a short one!

I tried to capture the complexity of Pink Diamond and Greg here, she was very amused by Earth and by Greg as a human so I tried to sprinkle that in here as well :)

Warnings: none, Mark's a bad dancer, Mark is jelly for no reason, Amber mention because she's over hated, Mark has a therapist (he really needs one guys) and he goes Monday's, Wednesday's and Friday's for two hours, can you guys tell I love writing yearning?, also the fusion is light skinned and I'm sure y'all know why

Note: I honestly feel like Mark would need a female therapist, he seems to have issues listening to men especially men with authority (Cecil and after his dad he does not trust men with power) and I feel like a woman who reminds him of his mother would help him so well

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"So, how was your weekend?"

Taking a deep breath, Mark inhaled, and his breath quivered on exhale.

"Painful."

"And why was it painful?" Dr. Dubois asked, looking at Mark with gentle eyes.

"Well. I saw her again. We all went out." Mark rubbed his eyes before he decided to lay back on the couch. His feet went up over the armrest and his head resting on a pillow

"To the club?"

"Yes."

"And what happened at the club that caused you to feel your weekend was painful? Did you get beat up?" Part of therapy was that his therapist knew he was Invincible. Which was great because Mark isn't saving the world, she is. All the times he's felt like quitting, Dr. Dubois was right there to help him remember why he started.

"Not this Saturday, probably gonna happen next week though. But something happened. Well, nothing actually happened but something happened."

"To you?" She coaxed gently. This always happened, when it came to his personal feelings the good Dr. Dubois always had to pull it out of him. Especially regarding girls but the six hundred dollars his mom pays for three sessions a week make it worth it for her.

"To me."

"Why don't you tell me about it?"

Just like that, he was right there back in the club. Recounting the events of his weekend to Dr. Dubois whose gray hair looked like an onion swirled into a bun on her head.

Back in the club he snuck into with his group of friends that you talked them into. The flashing lights, smell of drinks and smoke, and the slimy feeling filling his chest when he recalled everything perfectly.

Watching you tear up the dance floor with Amber was slowly killing him with jealousy. Gnawing through his chest, clawing at his heart and under his skin with no remorse. Mark really didn't need to be jealous. You two were dancing, nothing severe. Rhythmically twirling around one another, like birds in a dance you had known all your lives.

It got worse from there. In sync, you moved with Amber. Like you two had done this time and time again. Like a shared secret only the two of you had and decided the bond between you two didn't need to be secret anymore. Before there was a light different from the flashing lights of the club. And then there was a tall dark skinned black woman with pink curls and dark magenta eyes, dark lips that belonged to Amber and a belly gem that belonged to you. Even your outfits seemed to have equally divided, your white top with Amber's dark green skirt which did little against the height of your fusion, exposing most of your thighs. Mark felt like he just watched his crush and ex-girlfriend (now close friend) make out on the dance floor. The one place he couldn't join.

The dancing didn't stop. She danced alone now, with hair moving freely and laughing to herself. It was as if happiness turned into a person and was dancing around the room. Having conversation with the two women inside who communicated gleefully with one another about how much fun you were having together.

Since you came to Earth, Mark had learned some things about you. You have a giant rock stuck in what would be your belly button if you had one that you pull weapons from and the glows randomly that enables you to transform into different forms.

He learned that you loved cats, you thought babies were so interesting, you loved painting, knitting, you looked so beautiful laughing, you had a few curls that always seemed to escape whatever style you put your hair in, but Mark loved those stray curls. They were free, untamable. Like you. You also had three older sisters but weren't on the best of terms with them right now.

You loved to dance. You don't need to eat, you don't need to sleep, or drink water, or use the bathroom. He's seen you do it, mimic the basic functions of humans. He watched you quickly learn that you have no desire to digest food after giving you a pickle and quickly watching you frown in disgust. And mimicking passing it seemed to upset you further. And while it was funny to explain to you that he doesn't use the bathroom because he enjoys it but because he has too, or he'll get a bladder infection, it killed him to see you uncomfortable your first time using a toilet. Ultimately you just...exist.

But who was Mark to judge, he doesn't need to breath or eat often if he doesn't feel like it. He more so does it out of habit, growing up human and needing breakfast regularly or he'd be hangry by 9:30 AM.

But even though you didn't like eating or drinking anything, you did love everything on Earth. The people, the sights and smell. Above all you loved music. No matter how fast or slow, you loved it. You told him, if you had a heart or soul then music would be ingrained in it. And it showed by your dancing.

"Why didn't you go dance with her?" Dr. Dubois interjected while squinting her eyes. As if Mark didn't ask himself that a thousand times over. Hell, he even talked himself up to it, but the club was closing, and it was time to go.

"I'm not a good dancer." He bit out.

"But you went to a club?" A moment of silence passed, Mark looking at the doctor wondering if she was making a joke from his pain like he so often does. The doctor on the other hand looked slightly proud of herself and let out a laugh at her own joke. Then she cleared her throat.

“I’m sure she would appreciate your efforts.”

Mark thought it over for a moment. The deep amusement you took at him was not at all flattering. And it wasn’t great that you laughed at quite a few of his attempts to be smooth. Since the GDA came across you wandering Earth, everything was amusing to you. As if you were a kid seeing the world for the first time. The world colored your face with wonder every day you were here.

“I don’t want to be laughed at. Anyways, we’re in the club and she looks nice.”

An understatement. Your light pink curls flew free as you danced with Amber, the gem in your stomach shimmered and your white top stuck to your slightly sweaty (he didn’t know you could sweat) brown skin, your bright pink eyes seemed to call him as if to say, “come to me”. Well before you two were fused together. Do you know how bad it hurt when you two didn't separate by the time you left, even staying fused until Amber had to pee once you returned to the dorms, and you refused to use a toilet again? Mark has met hundreds of alien women; he’s never been so down bad in his entire life. And he dated Amber.

“And by the time we left, I felt…weird. Clammy.”

"Do you think she and Amber have something going on?"

"No."

Dr. Dubois gentle eyes urged him to go further.

"Amber has her boyfriend. And you know Amber and I are over, I'm over her by now. I think I'm jealous."

"And why do you think that? What did you have to be jealous over?" She led, urging Mark to put the pieces together or she would do it.

"I am...jealous, because I want to have that connection with her. But I was too scared to do it." And she smiled like Mark just hit the jackpot while Mark frowned deeply at his own feelings. He had no right to be jealous. Do you even understand the concept of jealousy?

“Hmmmm. Mark, I want you to try something. The next time you’re all together, I want you to imagine it’s just the two of you. She looks human. She acts human enough. Try treating her like a normal human girl, instead of treating her as if she’s a glowing space rock.”

"Hm."

Dr. Dubois smiled at him and then flipped a page in her notebook, freckled nose scrunching as she read her handwriting from last Friday's session.

"Now, let's move on. Have you been doing your creative writing?" And he hasn't. So, he rolled over onto his side and turned his back to the question. This much discussing his feelings slightly soured his mood.

"And why not?"

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

Turns out, Mark can get drunk. He never thought to try, he kind of just assumed it wouldn't work. But being half viltrumite didn't turn off the part of his brain that had feelings OR the parts of his brain that were susceptible to drugs and alcohol. Although his body was burning through it fast, rushing to 'heal' him. But he doesn't want to heal. Not now. Not when the seventeen beers he had were helping him dance with you.

Even though he danced a like an unattended fire hose, you didn't care. You didn't give a damn, even goofily mimicking his dance leaving you two to laugh like fools while you danced alone away from the others.

The sunset on the beach bathed your skin in a gorgeous glow, the sand beneath your bare feet barely bothered you while water crashed onto your feet from the tide rolling in, and the white sun dress you wore twisted around you with each movement. The rest of your friends somewhere behind you, and Mark followed you on an impromptu game of tag far down the beach. As your two got further down the beach, he was also leaving his inhibitions behind him. He could still hear the music from speaker and before he knew it you two were in some silly dance together.

You looked...did you even have angels where you came from? You looked like an angel. But in one move, one second it all changed.

You two brushed past each other, gracefully and then you were both gone.

How could Mark even describe this feeling? It was like his brain melted, then expanded with another's feelings in there. He was himself. He was Mark. But he was also you. You, with all your thoughts and feelings. His heart was beating for the both of you. His lungs expanded and shrunk for him and you. You were one and the same. He was Mark Grayson, Invincible, and you were you. You and him, he and you. Together.

In what he thought was a delusion of his lovesick brain, he opened his eyes that he didn't realize he had shut. He looked down at his still feet. His feet and hands that were a light skinned color with nails painted the same baby pink color yours were. The water washed over his feet, but it felt foreign. The sensations weren't the same to him anymore. Nothing felt the same to him anymore.

He was taller as well. Something was...missing. And he was really hoping it wasn't what he thought it was.

"Mark?"

That came from inside his head. You were in his head. And this was no delusion. His own mouth opened and said his own name with a voice that sounded perfectly male and female.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay, Mark?" You, or he, or whatever he should call himself (?) at this point sounded worried.

Was Mark okay? The feeling of pure love, acceptance and understanding in his chest, the quiet in his mind for once, was Mark okay? He felt warm but not from the inside. From his one human heart that was beating for the two of you. Were the overwhelming feelings he felt purely his alone?

"I think so."

Slowly he willed the feet to move but instead fell onto the ass he was sharing. His bottom was never so thick before, so this really was not a dream. Without his command, the right arm went into a pocket and pulled out two phones. One placed on the sand, yours went to open the camera app.

Eyes that weren't yours or Mark's filled the camera. Shorter, very dark pink curls dusted the shared shoulders unlike your long and full head of curls that usually took up more space than your head. Dark brown eyes matched with thick lips and long lashes filled the camera. A strong jaw with round, feminine features that you possessed mixed perfectly with Marks, and the eyes were slanted, another feature from Mark's face.

Was this what your babies would look like all grown up?

"I'm not sure I could carry a human-viltrumite-gem baby. That may destroy me." The thick lips opened in the reflection; a feeling of awe filled the chest you shared. Along with embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to say that outloud."

"You didn't. I hear your thoughts. I feel your feelings." Normally this would be too weird for him. But when your finally one with the woman you love and also half drunk, also suddenly look gender neutral, you have bigger issues to worry about-

"You love me?"

Then his chest felt like velcro being torn off sneakers. The soul you both shared was being forcefully torn in half. You were back, Mark was back and the two of you tumbled onto the sand.

"No!"

"You love me!" The gem-human (he was never fully sure what you were) tackled him in a hug onto the sand.

"I heard it, I heard it in your thoughts! I felt it in here." You whispered excitedly in his ear and placing your hand on his chest over his fast-beating heart.

"No no no, go back. What just happened? What was that?!" Now it was too weird. It lasted about 45 seconds but Mark's brain was his own again and what was missing between his legs was back.

"We fused Mark! And I'm sorry, it was a total accident but Mark! This is great, don't you see?" He pushed back from you and you followed him through the sand on your knees, scooting towards him.

"See what?" He cried in a panic, his own brain working overtime with the thousands of questions he had while he tried to gain enough distance from you to formulate a sentence.

"You love me the way I love you! We can be together!" Everything stopped again, but not because you turned into one person.

"You love me?" The light in your eyes was no longer so intense, and you pushed off your hands and sat down next to Mark, pulling your knees to your chest.

"I do." You nodded, affirmatively.

"And you...you want to be with me?"

"I do!"

Oh. So those feelings weren't his alone.

Waves crashed; the sky darker now as seagulls cawed far away. In the distance he heard your friends laughing around the bonfire. No words were said, but you seemed to understand. You scooted closer to him, head resting on his shoulder. Could you hear how calm his heart now was?

“Soooo do you love me?” You asked, looking up at him with sparkling eyes and a bit of hope nestled deep inside.

"You know I do."

"Maybe I want to hear you say it." A cheeky smile crossed your features, he just noticed that you have another dimple then the one he usually sees. And he's spent hours studying your face. Was this one new? He knows you can change your appearance. But then again, he's never been this close to you.

He remembered the love. The understanding he felt when you two were one in the same. Mark has had multiple girlfriends and has still never felt anything like that. He loved you before, after that feeling he accepted he was screwed. It was over for him. It was over for him, because he knew he'd spend the rest of his life, all thousands of years searching for that feeling. But he could only get that from you. He only wanted that from you.

For once he realized something: you were a human girl in a way. You look human, and Mark was treating you as an object. Unattainable, shiny but he loved you. You have feelings, just as strong as his. You both looked at one another, as if clearly seeing each other for the first time in a long time. He saw you as more than a space girl who he loved and was a little ditzy. You were a person. A person who loves him.

You came to Earth, you wanted to be a human girl. You wanted to be a normal girl. You have normal, human emotions. Who was Mark to deny you reciprocation of a feeling he certainly had for you as well because he perceived you as more?

"I love you."

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Mark, sighed but it was a sigh of happiness. For once, he was happy to talk about his feelings. He was thrilled to walk into Dr. Dubois's office. For once his weekend wasn't painful mentally, emotionally, or physically. He felt warm still from seeing you this morning. Turns out you can fuse at other times, as well as mimic some other human parts.

"Mr.Grayson?" He fell out of his memories of cuddling with you and laughing over how scared you got when he described how throwing up felt to you and he promised you he would try not too (although he can't really control it) and was pulled back into his reminder that he was waiting to see his therapist.

"Dr. Dubois will see you now."

Rising to his feet, he began the familiar path to the door he entered regularly. It was late Monday afternoon, and Mark spent the entire weekend as relaxed as he's been in a while. He couldn't stop smiling as he stopped a bank robbery on Sunday.

Another superhero left another therapists office, in their civilian identity while sniffling and the corresponding doctor patting her on the back in an attempt of comfort.

He opened the door, pulling the knob and floating into the office.

“Good morning!”

“Well, you’re in a good mood Mark. It’s good to see you. Have a seat.” She grinned, happy to see one of her younger clients full of joy. It was a rare sight these days.

He found his usual seat, and laid back down. Feet going of the arm rest, head resting on a pillow.

She opened her notebook, clicking her pen and peering at Mark over her round glasses. She could read him like a book, and should be able too considering how much time they spend together.

"Did you try treating her like a normal girl?"

"Uh huh." Mark nodded with an almost cartoonishly wide grin. For the first time in a long time feeling like the weight of his feelings wasn't crushing him. With a proud smile, she rested her chin on her elbow. She wanted to hear about his recent success, not just analyze it.

“So, how was your weekend?”

[cheriladycl01]

hiya could you maybe write a Fernando x Reader one shot, where something happens between the two of them they get into a fight and Fernando gives the reader the silent treatment refuses to talk to them. Goes on for a few days and finally the reader cracks and is really upset and cries in front of Nando reader thinks he doesn’t love her anymore etc.. and they make up in the end.. as much as I want it angsty I do love the fluff in the end

The Silent Treatment - Fernando x Reader

Plot: You and Fernando get into a rare fight. It’s a big one though and you say something you didn’t really mean making Fernando give you the pouty silent treatment …

You and Fernando were like salt and pepper and butter and bread. You rarely argued and always got alone, if you did argue you both had effortless communication skills meaning that whatever happened was resolved pretty quickly.

But after a not so good race weekend for Fernando that you couldn't attend because you were halfway across the world singing for a collab bran deal you were doing and a stressful weekend for you creating content for this brand deal you were exhausted when you got him straight from the plane Monday night.

"Hey" you smile tiredly at Fernando who is sat on the sofa. You're so sleepy you don't even notice his sour look.

"What is this?" he demands looking around the house and you look over to him confused at his raised voice.

"What?" you ask and he gestures to the house, you look around and you could tell it was a little disorganized and messy than it usually was but not dirty or unclean.

"Sorry honey, but we've both been extremely busy this weekend! I left only a few hours after you. You came back before me" you giggle thinking he wasn't actually mad, but the minute he stood up starting to do everything himself in an overly aggressive way had you at a stand still. Like a deer caught in headlights. He'd never acted like this before. It must have been a really bad weekend.

"Baby, why don't you sit down. We're both tired and I can just do it tomorrow while you are on the sim!" you exclaim coming closer to him to try and pull his arm away from the clothes hamper he was currently putting stuff into.

"God, why wasn't any of this done before you left?" he asks with almost a glare and you are in shock.

You and Fernando never expected anything from one another, whether it was Sex, Chores, Help... nothing was expected at all. So why was he demanding this should have been done by you before you left.

"I guess I was just busy" you explain.

"Busy more like lazy" he mutters, which was true sometimes you did have a tendency to have home days off where you didn't do any chores or shopping and would just laze about, but every needed those kind of days... right?

"Alright says Mr Crash on turn 1, maybe you should be focusing more on racing than bothering me about stupid little things and you might actually win again!" you say in the heat of the moment.

You regret it almost straight away blubbering after trying to back track what you said but it had already all come out.

"Nando, I- I didn't mean that I'm so so sorry!" you exclaim, but he just walks off going into the spare bedroom shutting and locking the door behind him.

Tears fill your eyes as what you said really settles in. You start to make dinner for the both of you with scraps from the cupboards and whatever was in-date in the fridge. It ended up just a simple pasta and home made garlic bread.

"Nando?" you knock on the door to the guest bedroom hoping he might come out for some food. When he doesn't after a few minutes you sigh going back to the kitchen. You wrap up his food with some clingfilm, leaving it out on the plate to cool down while you go round the house doing all the bits that hadn't been done while you and Fernando hadn't been here.

They were just little bits, like the clothes and drying up and putting the blankets from the sofa away in their basket, hoovering and dusting the stairs. Small little jobs that weren't taking you long.

The more you thought about it, the worse you felt. You could have just done these jobs before you left it wouldn't have been difficult and it wouldn't have taken much time. You were just very stressed over the brand deal.

You went to bed feeling incredibly guilty. You tossed and turned the whole night not being able to sleep with your husband not cuddled up in the bed with you.

You woke up the next day, going straight to the shower trying to wash away all your emotions from the previous night ready to start on a clean slate with Fernando.

However, what you didn't expect was Fernando to be waiting outside the ensuite for you.

"Buenos Dias!" you smile at him, but he just brushes past you, ignoring your morning greeting to him.

And that's how it went for the rest of the day. He would just leave the house without saying anything, coming back sweaty and with his trainer. He would refuse to eat the food and drinks you made for him, making you have to double up whatever you made for lunch as your dinner so the food didn't go to waste.

You tried at ever opportune moment to try and talk to him but he kept on ignoring you. It was stressing you out, all of this silent treatment. Was he really being this petty.

But once it got to day 3 you'd had enough. You were practically pulling your hair out at the fact the he had said nothing. You were doubting yourself wondering if you were really that horrible of a person and that Fernando no longer loved you.

You were laying in bed when he came home, sobbing into the pillow that still faintly smelt like him despite him not having been in the bed for the last few days.

Fernando was shocked to not see you, for the last few days you'd practically been running yourself raw trying to get himself to talk whilst cleaning then house. You'd even cancelled a few job opportunities that had come your way, feeling as though even more distance between the pair of you would be awful.

Now Fernando was the one to feel bad, he knew he was being petty by not talking to you, and he agreed with himself that he over-reacted when it came to your arrival home. But at the same time what you said to him, really really fucking hurt.

He knocked on the door and your sobs turned into small hiccups as you attempted to calm your breathing down.

"Yeah?" you ask, but it sounds a little chocked up to Fernando who feels just awful.

"Mi Amore!" he says as he pushes open the door a little. You fully sit up on the bed, red puffy eyes and tear stains down your cheeks making him sigh.

He didn't mean to make you this upset.

"I'm sorry Nando, I really didn't mean it I just was so confused why you were so angry with me and then you called me lazy which I know i can be but you've never said it as more than a joke and ..." you ramble until he comes forward pulling you into a sweet and short kiss.

"I'm the one that should be sorry, I didn't mean to call you lazy. I was just exhausted after an awful weekend and it didn't help that you were absent for it... i just felt useless" he explains and you nod.

"Please can we go back to talking things out? I don't like it when you freeze me out! It feels awful. I thought ... you didn't love me anymore and were looking into a divorce" you almost whimper at the thought of Fernando cutting ties with you in such a legal fashion. You genuinely thought that would break your heart.

"I'd never leave you mi amore! You are without a doubt the best thing in my life!" he exclaims pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head.

"I love you so so much! I'll talk to you next time okay? I promise" he sighs kissing all over your face, knowing you'd both be working overtime for the next few weeks, apologizing to one another.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[hoonvinx]

✶ THE HEAT BETWEEN US ── Sim Jayeun

High school’s over, and all you wanted was a peaceful girls' trip with your cousin. Just three days at the beach — no drama, no boys. Then her boyfriend shows up… and brings him. Cocky, hot, and totally off-limits. But some temptations don’t care about rules. Three days. One beach house. Zero self-control.

Warning!! ✶- light smut but nothing extreme. Clothed sex. Making out. Jake can be a bit of an ass.(I think that's about it!)

Mentions!! Jake-Enhypen, Manon-Katseye

Length-✶(Part 1)-wc:1100+

(Part 2)-tbd (May 16th)

(Part 3)-tbd(May 22nd)

NOTES!! This is my first storyy... Kind of rushed to be honest.. But I hope you guys enjoy it..! I'm still currently writing part 2 so stay tuned..!

The car windows were down, and the salty breeze tangled through your hair like it didn’t care you just brushed it. Somewhere in the backseat, your cousin, Manon, was screaming the lyrics to a summer playlist you both thrown together an hour before the drive. It was chaotic. Loud. Free.

And exactly what you needed.

High school was done — burned to the ground, no more fake smiles in hallways, no more holding your breath around people who didn’t actually know me. This summer was supposed to be your reset. A weekend escape before life got real.

“Three days,” you said out loud, to no one in particular. “Just us.”

No boys. No drama. No distractions.

You pulled into the beach house driveway, the sun already dipping low like it was sinking into the ocean just for you. And for a second, it felt perfect.

But that was before the second car pulled in right behind you guys.

Before her boyfriend stepped out, he stepped out.

He was the first to step out of the car. Tall. Tan. Shirt half-buttoned like he didn’t believe in rules — or maybe he just liked being looked at.

I tried not to. Really, I did

Your cousin Manon squealed. “Surprise!”

She ran into her boyfriend’s arms like it was a movie, and for a second, you was just… stuck. Watching.

Trying to make sense of the extra person now leaning against the car like he owned the beach.

“You didn’t say anything about this being a group trip,” You said under your breath, dragging your suitcase out of the trunk with a little more force than necessary.

“I forgot to mention it,” she said, eyes wide and innocent. “Don’t be mad. It’ll be fun!”

she’d planned this. Every second of it. And you were just the tagalong.

The guy — him — pushed off the car and walked over like he wasn’t walking straight into your life.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was low, like it belonged in late-night conversations and bad decisions.

“I’m Jayeun but you can call me Jake.”

He offered a smile — not the sweet kind, but the kind that knew exactly what it was doing.

I didn’t smile back. "Cool."

You both stood there, waves crashing in the distance, my cousin already disappearing inside with her boyfriend, leaving me alone with him.

Three days.

Just fucking 3 days.

You was so screwed.

You tell yourself not to stare — but of course you do.

Jake is just pure trouble. He doesn't just walk; he saunters, like he's used to being watched. And now he’s standing a little too close, his eyes scanning you in a way that makes your stomach flip and your walls go up.

“So,” he says, eyeing you with a lazy smirk, “you look thrilled to be here.”

You cross your arms. “Wasn’t expecting company.”

“Yeah? Neither was I,” he replies, leaning against the porch rail.

“Thought it was just gonna be him and his girl. Turns out I walked into a girls' getaway.”

You shoot him a look. “You could’ve stayed home.”

He shrugs. “Could’ve. Didn’t.”

Silence stretches for a second — not uncomfortable, but charged.

“You’re not big on surprises, huh?” he asks, watching you a little too closely.

“Not when they show up uninvited.” He laughs under his breath. “Good to know.”

You roll your eyes, grab your bag, and head inside. If he thinks he can charm his way through the weekend, he’s got the wrong girl.

Or at least… that’s what you tell yourself.

The evening drags on, the sun melting into the ocean like a postcard you’re too bitter to enjoy. Your cousin is all giggles and cuddles with her boyfriend, the two of them tangled together on a lounger like it’s their honeymoon. You’re left sipping a drink that’s too sweet and trying not to look at Jake, who’s lounging across from you like he owns the night.

He hasn’t stopped watching you.

You feel it every time you look away — that heavy, curious stare, like he’s trying to figure you out without asking questions. Like he already knows he’s getting under your skin.

You stand. “I’m going for a walk.”

Manon doesn’t even glance up. “Take a flashlight!”

You don’t. You want the dark.

The beach is quiet, the sand still warm under your feet. Waves roll in steady, like they don’t care about whatever mess is brewing back at the house. You wrap your arms around yourself, finally starting to breathe again.

Then you hear footsteps behind you.

You don’t have to turn to know who it is.

“Didn’t know you were the sneaking-off-in-the-dark type,” Jake says, his voice low, teasing, like he already knows you won’t send him away.

You don’t stop walking. “Didn’t know you were the follow-girls-at-night type.”

“Only when they look like they need a little… company.”

You shoot him a look over your shoulder. He’s smirking — cocky, confident, shirt unbuttoned enough to make a point. The worst part? It’s working.

“Bold of you,” you say, facing the ocean again, trying to pretend you don’t feel the heat creeping up your neck. He steps closer, just enough for you to feel him behind you. “Is it?” His voice dips.

“You’ve been looking at me like you want to do something about it.”

You freeze.

He’s not wrong.

And he knows it.

So you don’t deny it. You just look at him — really look at him — and let the silence do the talking.

He laughs softly, like he likes the chase. “Damn. You’re dangerous.”

You raise a brow. “Then maybe you should keep your distance.”

He takes another step, toe to toe now. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The waves crash behind you. His eyes are on your lips.

And for one reckless second, you don’t care if it’s a bad idea.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

The air between you hums — sharp, hot, reckless. Like both of you know this is a bad idea, but neither of you care enough to stop.

Then he leans in.

Not slow, not gentle — he grabs your waist and pulls you in like he’s done thinking and ready to feel. His mouth crashes into yours, all heat and hunger, tasting like salt and adrenaline. It’s not soft. It’s messy, needy, like he’s been holding it back since the moment he saw you.

You kiss him back, hard.

Your fingers twist in the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer until there’s no space between you, until it feels like he’s everywhere — hands on your hips, mouth bruising yours, breath warm and uneven against your cheek.

You break apart for air, barely, your forehead pressed to his.

He’s smiling. “Damn. You kiss like you’re trying to win.”

You smirk, breathless. “Maybe I am.”

He leans in again — slower this time, but no less intense.

And just like that, the line between right and wrong blurs under the moonlight.

Both you and Jake fall into the sand making out like animals, and before you know it you're on top of him and grinding against his bulge.

"Fuck keep doing that" Jake says through ragged breaths.

Then a bright light hits both of you guys.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"What the hell are you guys doing?!" Of course it is Manon.

PART 2 COMING MAY 16TH!!

[retroaria]

Hey hey I hope u doin well :) I would like to request a wind breaker headcannon when their girl is really sassy/badmouth like swaering and gets herself into trouble. Maybe for Suo , Kaji, Sakura, Toma and Umemiya :).

a/n: i’m notoriously not good at writing for hiragi so i apologize for excluding him :( thank you so much for the request and i appreciate your patience!! <3

• | WIND BREAKER M.LIST | •

Suō finds your behavior rather entertaining, so much so that he lets it go on longer than it should some times. Not that he finds it humorous or anything - he finds it really attractive actually.

he loves watching you handle your own and be fierce about it, sometimes leans over and makes a cat growling noise in your ear (such a cheeky loser lol)

defends you with the biggest smile on his face, “sorry, she’s a hot head.” - he’s not sorry at all and he’s about to go give you a fist bump for telling the person off.

if ever he finds you biting off more than you can chew, he steps in and handles the rest for you. you guys are kind of evil, an evil team if you will. (it’s pretty romantic!)

kaji’s favorite little moment of life with you is when he gets to say “i told you so.” not only does it grant him exclusive access to the adorable pouty face you make while he teases you, it also makes him feel less guilty for not actually stopping you from running your mouth and getting into trouble.

“i told you not to do that.” sure he did! once or twice…maybe…under his breath as to not distract you from unleashing your rath. seriously though, for as much distaste as he shows in your rowdiness, he can’t hide the little smirk that gives him away while he sits back and watches you go off. he isn’t sure if he should be amused, proud, or concerned, but somehow he’s all of the above.

kaji’s biggest fear would be you causing some sort of drama in the community, and the rest of the guys have to start keeping tabs on you. so he keeps tabs on you himself and lends a hand when he sees necessary. he’s also sure to cover your tracks and would defend you with his life (unless he gets bored and realizes it’s pointless but in that case he knows you can figure it out on your own) partners in crime!

umemiya pretends to have zero recollection when a story of your aggressive misadventures is mentioned to him. “whaaaaat she didn’t do that, pffft- and if she did i’m sure she had a reason…yeah…” he must’ve been out of town that weekend. he loves you with all your fiery rage of course, but some of the stuff you’ve done really makes his head spin (in a simultaneously loving and nauseating way)

he gives you the same pep talks he gives the other guys in bofurin and encourages you to fight every battle with a purpose. once you get the hang of that he’s sure to let you know that “because i wanted to” and “because i can” are not good enough reasons to curse someone out and threaten to have your boyfriend come and beat them up. (he knew what he was signing up for)

despite the different ground you both stand on in certain situations, he loves that you’re strong and independent and sees those qualities as being forever beneficial, so he wouldn’t change you for the world. maybe just change your approach! i’m sure that would spare him a few drops of sweat and flustered apologies on your behalf.

sakura is truly not fond of how many uncomfortable (and slightly dangerous?) situations you’ve roped him into. hes got hands for days, but he can’t really formulate full sentences sometimes, so he tends to take the back seat and silently beg you to stop and leave them alone and just go home or else they’re gonna get even more angry and- oh but if that actually happens suddenly he’s pumped and ready to hand out mean left hooks like it’s nothing.

he can’t quite wrap his head around how quickly and fearlessly you engage in aggressive verbal confrontation without just rolling your sleeves up before even opening your mouth. he finds it just as admirable as it is scary.

unlike umemiya, knowing you threatened some asshole trying to mess with you that HE was gonna come and mess them up gives him instant gratification. he’s on the way! actually he was probably already there with you and as soon as you stopped yelling and he could take his hands off his ears he’s ready to defend your honor. he’s the robin to your batman sometimes, but just let him believe he’s batman, for his sake and yours.

wooo another wind breaker post for the books!!! i’m sorry i’m a sleeper agent when it comes to writing anything besides blue lock but have faith in me guys -aria

[il-miele-che-scrive]

lando norris x reader

based on this request (because I take requests and I have to make it everyone's business): Hi not sure if you take requests but in case you do could you write reader x lando where y/n is a celebrity or an influencer and she drops subtle hints at who is her new bf maybe some fun facts about him like "oh he hates fish and I'm making a lot of fish for christmas" and eventually the fans are like "guys it's totally lando"

words count: 2.5k + fans' tweets at the end

author's note: my first request and it was so fun to write 🥹 also added a hospital scene from the time of Vegas GP so we could experience a bit of protective Y/n and painkillers-high Lando (I forgot about a fish scene)

edit: I've just realized I've messed up the dates so let's pretend the award thingie was in '23 instead of '22

A secret boyfriend

It was a normal Tuesday of 2023 when Y/n Y/l/n and Lando Norris met. Well, not so normal since it was the day Y/n won the first award in her musical career, and Lando had his first debut as an award presenter.

"And the winner is..." He opened the envelope and flipped it, as he held it upside down. "Y/n Y/l/n."

Y/n couldn't believe it at first. She looked at her best friend with tears in her eyes. They hugged before Y/n stood up and got on her way to the scene, still questioning if she actually heard her name or was it her mind playing tricks on her.

"Thank you," Y/n sent Lando a smile as he handed her the award, "are you sure it's for me?" She joked, trying to mask the anxiety she felt from the fact that now she had to give a speech while everyone watched.

"Absolutely, it's all yours. Well deserved." Lando said feeling a bit starstruck from being so close to one of his favorite singers.

Just this one simple interaction was enough for both Y/n's and Lando's fanbases to raise suspicions. However, what was unavailable to the fans' eyes were Y/n and Lando's interaction at the after party. Later the same evening, he approached her.

"Hey, congratulations again." He said with a grin on his face. "Your music is amazing, I couldn't imagine you not winning this award."

"Stop with the compliments, I'm gonna blush." Y/n laughed. "Nice to meet you. Lando Norris, isn't it?"

"Yeah, do you watch Formula One?"

"I'm going to be honest from the beginning and admit I did not, but I did my research and I just might start being a fan."

"If you're ever down for hearing firsthand gossip straight from the track, I'm at your service."

"I'd love to hear all the gossip over a coffe sometime."

"Let me give you my number then and I'll arrange something."

And so a few days later they had a coffee date. The date marked the beginning of a carefully hidden romance. They wanted to keep it a secret from the public eye, not wanting people prying on them, trying to estimate how long they'll last.

Keeping the relationship secret somehow came easy to them. They were seen on the coffee date indeed, however they made sure to have the next dates in private. The fans on both sides were literally clueless to the whole ongoing romance. Y/n had her tour, Lando had his races and it wasn't even a little bit suspicious how a lot concerts aligned with race weekends.

Unfortunately, one day Y/n went live on Instagram with her best friend. Unfortunately, because Y/f/n didn't know how to keep her mouth shut. Unfortunately, because Y/f/n gave away the big secret.

"You know, guys, we're gonna use lives as a way to spend time together," she joked, "I've been feeling a bit abandoned since Y/n has been spending so much time with her boyfriend. Even on tour and with his busy schedule, can you believe this?"

Y/n's eyes widened. "Y/f/n!" She scolded her friend.

"What? It's a joke, no worries, I can see you're finally happy and I'm happy for you!"

"Y/f/n! You weren't supposed to say that!"

But the damage was already done. There was nothing Y/n could say to save the situation. So instead she decided to start dropping subtle hints for the fans to guess. Maybe it was the right time to make the relationship public after five months. They couldn't hide it forever.

Y/n started the hint game when she was on Jimmy Fallon's show.

"Y/n Y/l/n, everybody!" Jimmy announced when the girl walked in and sat down on the armchair. "I haven't seen you in a year and so much happened during this time!"

"I know, I know," Y/n said with a smile. "I'm so glad I could make a quick pit stop here on my way to Montreal."

"I'm happy to have you here. You won an award, you got a boyfriend. How- how did that happen?"

Y/n chuckled at Jimmy's question, realizing it was the perfect opportunity to play the hint game. "Oh, life takes unexpected turns and sometimes you find yourself on a fast track to happiness."

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the story. "Anything you'd like to share about this mystery man?"

"You know, Jimmy, I've finally found someone who knows how to navigate the twists and turns in life."

The audience laughed and the speculations among fans skyrocketed as they tried to connect the dots from Y/n's playful hints.

The other time, Y/n was on a popular radio show. The host couldn't help but ask about the latest reveal of a big secret.

"You were left hurting really badly after your previous relationship," he spoke, "it's really good to see you finally happy."

"It was a big thing for me. Still is." The girl admitted. "My previous relationship made it hard to open up to a man like that again."

"What made you do it eventually then?"

"I decided life is too short for keeping things in the slow lane," Y/n chuckled, "and when you meet someone that can belt out a Taylor Swift song with the same passion as you, it's hard not to fall for them."

"So your mystery man is a Swiftie too? Any chance we might know him?"

"Oh, I bet many people who are listening right now would know him."

"Now you got us all intrigued, your fans wouldn't forgive me if I didn't ask for more."

Y/n grinned, "Well, he's practically flawless, except for one little detail. He's a scorpio. And let me tell you, when we're playing our silly little racing video games, his competitive scorpio side really comes out. It's all fun and games until his racing pride is at stake."

The host laughed. "I'm sure fans are already trying to guess who this mystery gamer is. And you, are you competitive?"

"Yes, totally. He's more experienced than I am, but it doesn't mean I won't try my hardest to beat him."

"Is there any trait you don't share?"

The girl nodded, "Yes, one thing I'm secretly jealous of. He's quite known for being able to fall asleep in the most uncomfortable conditions. I wish I could do that. I'm all about pillows and comfy blankets, but he can just doze off anywhere, anytime."

A few days later, in the warmth of Lando's bedroom, surrounded by the hum of city life outside the windows, Y/n brought up the topic with a playful glint in her eyes.

"You know, Lando, fans have been buzzing lately. It's quite entertaining."

"Well, you have started this yourself," Lando laughed, laying his head in his girlfriend's lap.

"Not me, it was Y/f/n. I just went with it and turned it into something fun for myself." Y/n defended herself. Her fingers started gently playing with Lando's hair.

"You do seem to be having a great time, leading your fans on and all that," he joked. "Are there chances they'll solve your mystery anytime soon?"

"I've seen a few tweets accusing you of being my secret boyfriend, but most people don't really believe that."

"What?" He sit up dramatically. He continued in a fake-offended voice. "Do they think I'm not good enough?"

Y/n giggled.

Lando's mock offense turned into a playful pout. "I can't believe they're doubting my boyfriend potential. I mean, come on, look at me!" He gestured theatrically at himself.

Y/n burst into laughter, "Maybe we should give them a little more to work with, stir the pot a bit."

Lando leaned in, placing a quick kiss on Y/n's cheek. "You're a master of turning chaos into entertainment, you know that?"

"It's quite a compliment, coming from a Formula One driver."

Lando flashed a grin. "Well, we both have our talents, don't we? Maybe we should drop some subtle hints during a race?"

And so they waited months for the Grand Prix in Vegas, because that was where they could start rumours about getting married. Sure, they could get married spontaneously anywhere, but there was no better place than Las Vegas.

Thankfully they managed to keep the relationship secret all these months, breadcrumbing Y/n's fans. After the Vegas GP, Y/n and Lando where supposed to go for an afterparty, get 'drunk' and then 'married'.

Unfortunately, they plans changed the direction a bit with Lando's crash. Y/n's heart sank as she watched the unfolding drama on the big screens. The thrill of the race was replaced with concern for Lando's well-being. Plans for the afterparty and the playful hints about a fake marriage suddenly didn't matter anymore.

Emergency crews rushed onto the track, the anxious seconds felt like an eternity as they worked to help Lando get out of his racing car. Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, the world around her blurring. The fact that he managed to walk away from the car was a small comfort.

Y/n's phone buzzed moment after Lando disappeared from her sight.

from: Lando

I'm okay, they're taking me to st vincent's hospital. Will update you soon. Love you xx

to: Lando

Be there in a second, see you soon

A shaky exhale escaped Y/n, she felt slightly relief and ran towards the exit. She was sure Lando wasn't okay, not after that crash, but at least he was conscious and walking on his own (although it could be the adrenaline). A moment later, when Y/n got into her own car, her phone buzzed again.

from: Lando

Yknow you could post a pic from the hospital, that would stir the pot

Y/n smiled at the massage. If he could think of that, he might had been better than she thought.

The neon lights of Las Vegas blurred as she drove through the city streets, trying to get to the hospital as quick as possible. Despite the speed, the journey seemed to stretch in time.

Arriving at St. Vincent's hospital, Y/n rushed through the entrance, her heart pounding. The reception area looked like a maze in her anxious state, but she managed to find a nurse.

"I'm here for Lando Norris," the girl said.

The nurse looked her up and down. "Are you his family?"

"I'm his girlfriend."

"Then, unfortunately, I cannot let you see him."

"His family is in Europe, I'm the closest to family you can get here in Vegas."

"The closest, but not family. I'll ask you nicely to wait here for further information."

Y/n nodded with an angry expression on her face. She sat down in the waiting room, pulling out her phone and dialing the number of her manager.

"Hey, Mia," the singer said. "I need you to do something." Urgency and frustration were visible in her voice.

"What's going on, Y/n? Are you okay?" Mia's concerned voice came through the line.

"It's Lando. He's been in a crash during the race in Vegas, and they've taken him to St. Vincent's Hospital. I'm here, but they won't let me in because I'm not 'family.' That's so stupid."

"I'm sorry, Y/n, but I still don't see what you want me to do."

"I want you to make a donation for the hospital from my account. Send them like $100,000. I think it'll be enough to let me in."

"Okay, I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Mia. I appreciate it more than you know."

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Anxiety lingered in the air. But there was no way they wouldn't let her in after that.

Y/n didn't know how much time had passed. She felt as if all she did was staring at a wall in front of her, ocassionally moving her eyes to the floor or the ceiling. She was fidgeting with her fingers as the same nurse approached her.

"Miss Y/l/n, you're allowed to see Mr Norris in the room 305."

Without a word, Y/n rushed to the room. She found Lando lying in the hospital bed, his gaze turning towards the door as she walked in.

"Lando." Y/n breathed his name, rushing to his side and taking his hand in hers. "I was so worried. And they didn't want to let me in at first."

He managed a dazed smile, his eyes slightly glazed. "Hey, you're real, right? This isn't happening in my head?"

Y/n chuckled. "Yes, I'm real. It's me."

He squinted at her. "You sure? You look like a beautiful hallucination."

"Well, if I'm a hallucination, at least a beautiful one."

"I feel like I'm floating on marshmallow clouds, but you're the most beautiful marshmallow I've ever seen."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh. "I think you might be on some strong painkillers, love."

"Ah, that explains the marshmallows. They're having a party in my head," Lando said with a dreamy expression.

Y/n burst into laughter, the tension of the earlier moments disappearing in the room.

"Did you know," Lando continued, "that racing is like trying to catch a rainbow? And if you're lucky, you might find a pot of gold at the end."

"Is there an Irish leprechaun as well?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. Maybe that's who's been guiding me all this time."

"You gotta ask him to make the rainbow less slippery next time then."

He nodded solemnly. "I'll have a serious talk with him. No more slippery rainbows, only smooth, marshmallow clouds."

As they joked around, Y/n couldn't ignore the quiet concern for Lando's well-being. She gently brushed his hair away from his forehead. "You scared me, you know? Seeing you crash like that."

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to scare you. I promise I'll be more careful next time. But you have to promise me something too.""

"What is it?"

"You'll visit me in the marshmallow cloud world sometimes. It gets lonely up there."

Y/n laughed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'll visit anytime you want."

"You know, even in the middle of all this craziness, having you here feels like finding that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow."

As the night carried on, the hospital room became a cocoon shielding them from everything that layed outside its walls. Y/n found herself falling asleep on an armchai next to Lando's bed.

In the quiet ambiance of the night, Lando's mind wandered through the whimsical landscapes of his medication-induced thoughts. He couldn't help but marvel at the coincidence that brought Y/n into his life.

It all started with handing her an award. It seemed like it happened a whole lifetime ago and now, there they were, in the middle of marshmallow clouds.

Y/n, nestled in the armchair, breathed softly in her sleep, completely unaware of Lando's reflections. Soon enough, Lando allowed himself to succumb to the gentle pull of sleep as well.

[navybrat817]

I saw an Instagram reel - https://www.instagram.com/reel/C2H-mV3y2ng/?igsh=dHNlYWl2N3RpbWdz - that immediately made me think of Stud and Smartie! They’re one of my favorite pairings that you write about and I can never get enough of their story, they are perfect for each other! 🥰❤️

I hope you have a good weekend, Navy 🥰

I love this, nonnie, and it's very Stud and Smartie coded!

Just Because

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky gets you a card just because.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, inner monologue, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Lovelies, your girl is worn out, but I hope you enjoy this Stud and Smartie ficlet. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You yawned as you let yourself into the apartment, but quickly smiled when Alpine and Soot rushed to see you at the door. They brushed against both of your legs once you got your shoes off and set your keys down, your smile widening when they purred. You half expected Bucky to call out to you or make a joke that the cats were crowding his girl, but all that greeted you was silence.

No music, no television, nothing.

“Honey, I’m home!” You called out, frowning when Bucky didn't answer. “Where is he, huh? Is he taking a nap?” You asked, crouching down so Alpine could rub her head against your hand. Soot patiently waited until she was done for his turn. Like Bucky, he was crazy about his other half. You were convinced that was the case.

Okay, but if he’s actually taking a nap, I’m crawling into bed with him because I deserve all the naps and cuddles and orgasms. I mean, it’s not like I did anything extremely worthy of those things today, but adulting is hard, so I actually really do deserve love and warmth and hot sex.

You ceased the ramblings in your head as you headed toward your room to get into something comfortable that you didn't plan to be in for long. You felt your heart jump when you saw an envelope taped to your door, a smile spreading across your face when you recognized Bucky’s handwriting. It had to be something special or important, otherwise it would've been a post-it note.

But what is it?

You lightly bounced on your feet as you carefully took the envelope from the door. Part of you hoped it was not the first clue to a scavenger hunt. Not that you wouldn't enjoy that, but you wanted to set something like that up for him as a birthday surprise. Or a romantic gesture.

He deserves it.

Happiness bloomed inside you when you opened the card. It was reminiscent of the puzzle he had made for you when he revealed his feelings to you, the different pieces creating a heart. There was even a smaller envelope that held the “missing piece” for you to finish it.

YOU COMPLETE ME.

You thought your heart would burst from how full it was.

Gasping when you felt a warm, familiar chest against your back, you smiled as Bucky pulled you back against him by the hip. “This is beautiful. What’s the occasion?”

It isn't our anniversary. Not my birthday. Already engaged. Wait, was it the first time we made a pizza together? Is it the anniversary from the first time I blew him?

Bucky chuckled as if he read your mind. “I’m glad you like it. And there’s no occasion for it.”

“Okay then,” you said, whining when he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “So, why get me such a nice card then?”

It was a sweet gesture. One he clearly put some thought into since the card looked homemade. You'd have to get it framed.

“I got it for you just because I was thinking of you. I got it just because,” he said against your ear, making you shiver. “Because I love you, Smartie.”

He is the most romantic, perfect man and I will not burst into tears. I won't.

You turned in Bucky’s arms so you could face him, taking care not to drop the card as you put your hands around his neck. Tears sprang to your eyes anyway when he smiled and nuzzled his nose against yours. Love was in the small things and he reminded you of that every day.

“I love you, too, Stud,” you whispered, watching his blue eyes soften at your words. “Thank you.”

He leaned in for a kiss, your heart aching from how tender it was. “I’m glad you liked it. Otherwise, I would've had to make you fall in love with me all over again.”

You giggled as he kissed the tip of your nose. “Bucky, we’re engaged. I’m very much in love with you,” you reminded him.

Always will be.

“Yeah, my ploy worked,” he smirked at you. “I got you to move in with me.”

“You had a cheap room and a nice cat,” you deadpanned. Both things were true, but they were bonuses compared to the amazing package of a man holding you.

“And I made you fall in love with me.”

Cocky, but true.

“It’s because you're adorable,” you said with a tilt of your head.

Yes, my beefy fiance is adorable and easy to love.

“I try to be,” he said, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Don't want some book boyfriend taking my place.”

“A book boyfriend wouldn't get me the best puzzle or cards,” you said, though you did enjoy how he acted the last time he got jealous of you reading a romance novel. “Or take a nap and cuddle with me.”

He trailed kisses over to your ear. “Or give you orgasms.”

How did he know I was thinking that?

“You are welcome to take me to bed then,” you said, still a bit surprised at yourself for not jumping on him over the sweet card. But you stopped him when he reached past you to open your door. “Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“These ‘just because’ gestures? And every gift you’ve given me? They really mean so much to me,” you said, hoping he understood how much you appreciated them and him.

You still couldn't believe some days that he was real and in love with you.

He swallowed before he spoke in a quiet tone. “You deserve the entire world and I just wish I could give it to you.”

“You already have,” you promised, pulling him against you this time so you could kiss him.

Bucky had given you everything you could ever dream of by loving and believing in you. And you would get him the perfect gift as soon as you could. Something that said you were thinking of him. Something just because.

Because you loved him.

They bring me such comfort. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Part 3: Blood Traitor

A March 2025 Hinny Microfic for @ginnystrophyhusband using Prompt 18

841 words (back on brand today!)

All the March prompts that I write will be set in the same universe as, and form a prequel to, this fic. Hopefully they'll all stand alone, but they'll also form a little story of their own, which is why they're numbered.

Fair warning - it's going to be fluffy!

Read them all from the beginning on AO3

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

It’s a bit of a shock for Bill Weasley to learn that his baby sister intends to move in with her boyfriend. 

She’s not even nineteen yet. Barely out of Hogwarts, clutching a respectable set of NEWTS and with the ink still wet on her contract with the Holyhead Harpies (another thing that Bill can’t quite get his head around, quite frankly). None of it seems… possible? Right? It just isn’t sitting well with him. Ginny’s too young. Too precious. Too everything. 

The fact that his own wife was only a year older when they got engaged is neither here nor there, of course. 

Neither is the fact that he’s known Harry Potter for years—not just the legend but the boy himself. He seems a good sort, even without the whole ‘saving the world’ business. 

But still; it’s the principle of the thing.

At least Harry’s had the good sense to ask for Bill’s help with the wards on the house. Never mind being one of Gringotts top curse-breakers, you don’t survive a war when you’re part of the biggest family of blood traitors out there without being bloody good at protective enchantments. Bill prides himself on it.

He’s pleased that Harry takes it seriously, but maybe that isn’t a surprise, after everything he’s been through. Bill’s only too happy to meet him at the new cottage to lend his expertise to the endeavour, because it means a bit of time alone with him; time to have a little chat, one-on-one.

He’s got this whole speech planned. You know the sort of thing; the one where he explains just how much his baby sister means to him. How special she is. Exactly what he’d do to anyone that hurts her. Bill can be pretty intimidating when he wants to, he knows this. It’s a vital skill when you’re dealing with goblins day in, day out. He’s sure he can impress his point on Harry.

The first thing he notices is the cottage itself. It’s actually lovely, solidly built, facing out to the grassy sand dunes and the beach beyond. It’s an unusual choice for a first home for someone Harry’s age, he thinks; Bill had expected him to want to stay amongst the bright lights and diversions of the big city. 

He remarks as much to Harry when they meet just outside the gate, once they’ve exchanged greetings, but Harry just shakes his head.

“Nah. Ginny’s happiest in the countryside, so it’s a no-brainer really. London’s great, but I’m there every day for work, and I can visit when I want. Plus, I’d rather have a bit of peace and quiet, so it suits both of us, I think.”

Bill nods, sagely. “Is there much to do inside?”

Harry pulls a face. “Yeah, quite a lot. I’m going to move in next weekend, even though I’ll basically be camping here, but it means I’ll have more time to get the work done. I want it to be perfect before Ginny moves in.”

Satisfied, Bill turns his attention to the wards that are already in place. He’s impressed; Harry’s actually done a pretty decent job with them, they’re far more complex, and more comprehensive, than anything he’d expected. Certainly nothing that would be covered at school.

“This is good work,” he comments, though he’s puzzled. “I didn’t think they covered protective enchantments in first year Auror training.”

“Oh, no. They don’t,” Harry explains. “We used some of them to hide our tent while we were on the run. The rest I researched in the Ministry library.”

Bill hadn’t been expecting that. “You taught yourself how to do all this?” he asks, wondering if he’s misunderstood. It’s a huge amount of work, and would have taken a lot of time and perseverance. 

Harry looks a bit sheepish. “Hermione helped me practice, but it had to be done.” He sighs. “The fact is that I’ll always have a target on my back, one way or another. That’s just something I have to live with. But I won’t put Ginny in the firing line. If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, to keep her safe, then I’m going to do it.” 

There’s a fire in his eyes as he says it, a determination and an honesty, and all of a sudden, Bill wonders what on earth he was worried about. It couldn’t be clearer just how vital Ginny is to Harry, that she’s his first and most important consideration, and really, what more could any big brother want? 

His carefully crafted speech now seems more than a bit superfluous, ridiculous, even. So, just like that, he lets it go, melting away to the breeze off the Atlantic.

Instead, he turns to Harry with a smile. “Well, there isn’t that much more I’d recommend adding, but there are one or two extras that I think would be useful. You can help me cast them, if you like.”

“Great!” Harry’s expression is earnest. “I’d really like that.”

“Me too,” says Bill. And he means it.

[tinyidle]

anything you want - psh

made especially for @whatudowhennooneseesyou's birthday. happy birthday again, sorry i made it so late, and i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! also, I hope you enjoyed watching coachella this weekend!

warning: smut, fluff, cunniligus, slight teasing, cumming in pants oop, implied aftercare, mommy!hwa, softdom!seonghwa, servicedom seonghwa, fem!reader, fiance!reader, sub reader, all fiction

"happy birthday, my star," seonghwa greeted you with a kiss to your cheek. it was actually nighttime, but with your and his schedule being hectic during the day, this was the first time he was able to physically wish you a proper birthday.

he did everything a good boyfriend should and more: he took you out to eat at your favorite spot, you both had a fun dancing session at the nearby club (nothing too crazy), and let you pick out what you wanted when you went out shopping later.

nine o'clock and he wanted to wrap up the day by letting you have him in any way you please. "anything i want, mommy?" you bit your lip with intrigue and slight hopefulness that he wasn't lying.

"anything, sweetie," he assured you. he laid you down and slowly took off the rest of the pieces of clothing you had. you both have been home for a bit, so you took off the heavier material, but your spaghetti strap top and undies were still on.

kissing your collarbone all across, he slowly pushed each strap down until the top of your chest was exposed. "fuck, you always look so pretty. so precious to me." he pulled down the top so that it was bunch to the middle of your stomach, him not bothering to pull it up or push it down any further.

reaching up to hold on to your boobs, he gently squeezed each one before continuing to speak. "tell mommy what you want, and i'll give it to you." seonghwa lightly trailed his hands on your sides, smiling when he saw you contemplate what you wanted your fiancé to do to you.

biting your lip, you whispered, "i want mommy touch my cunt."

"hmm?" seonghwa feigned naivety, kissing down to your inner thigh. "i cant hear you, sweetie."

your breath heaved more and more until you couldn't take the teasing to your pelvis anymore. "PLEASE MOMMY," you whined, much to seonghwa's enjoyment as he was now licking the skin of your folds, occasionally each one. "please touch my pussy."

he smiled once more before spreading your lips apart. "of course," he whispered, giving your clit a good suck. you gasped and unconsciously attempted to close your legs, them being forced open by your caring fiancé. "that's it. lose yourself for me, im all yours."

you bucked your hips in his face while seonghwa let you use him for your pleasure. one orgasm became two, and your legs were now constantly shaking as you begged him not to stop. sure, his jaw was now starting to ache, but his precious star wanted to be pleased like this, so he was going to give her what she deserved.

the final dam for your broke as you came once again on your fiancé's face. "ohh, hwa!" you cried out as you body stiffened and back arched. seonghwa groaned as he felt himself release in his pants from your own pleasure.

as you relaxed from your high, seonghwa quietly got up and went to get wipes, a warm cloth, and your pajamas for you. your eyelids were heavy, but you still managed to make grabby hands for your fiancé's touch.

with a small chuckle, seonghwa leaned down and gave you a loving peck. "happy birthday, my precious star."

i had three options for the drabble, and since i did a yunho fic already and plan on doing a hongjoong fic, as well as me never have done a mommy!hwa fic before, i wanted to do this so much. tagging @strayteezsimp

[jaylver]

SEVEN — L.HS

SYNOPSIS: Pissing you off wasn’t what Heeseung expected or wanted. So, he came up with a plan to try and win your good side back over the seven days of the week.

PAIRINGS: non-idol!heeseung x afab!reader

GENRE: established relationship, VERY slight angst, lots of fluff

WARNING(S): profanities, mentions of taylor swift's concert ticketing (👹)

WC: 1.8k

AUTHOR NOTES: all thanks to kook's seven that inspired me this! btw it's inspired by the MV not the lyrics 😭 man the lyrics threw me tf off i'm CRYING anyway i don't write nsfw sooo don't expect me to base it off the lyrics HAHAH but the song and mv just reminds me of hee sm! that's why i decided to whip this up. enjoy and please leave a feedback! it'll help a lot <3

masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.

Heeseung was an idiot.

He hated the fact that he had actually pissed you off. Forgetting a date was the last mistake he expected from himself, unintentionally leaving you sitting in the middle of the restaurant while it rained outside, the clear picture of you being stood up embarrassed you. He was such an ass for that.

He knew he deserved the angry yells from you, holding you as you calmed down until you finally heard him out. You couldn’t entirely blame him for working late, but you wished he had told you sooner, sobbing into his shoulder as he kissed your tears away, kissing your waist and eased your mind, whispering 'sorry' on repeat.

“Let me love you right.”

Heeseung stuck to his promise, doing one of the craziest things he hasn’t done in a while, which was planning something for every day of the week.

i. Monday

Coming home from work was exhausting. You just wanted to lie in bed with a soothing mask on and do nothing.

Upon entering the threshold, you noticed something different. Heeseung wasn’t in his usual position on the couch watching his usual evening program or even gaming. There’s no way he would have disappeared, right?

“You’re back,”

Speaking of the devil.

You eyed the plates of food in his hands, catching the cheesy grin on his face. “What are you doing?” you placed your bag down, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

“Dinner, duh,”

Eyebrows furrowed, you casted him a suspicious glance. “There’s no motive behind this, is there?”

Heeseung set the plates down, looking thoroughly offended. “Can’t I do something for my girl?”

“Hee, you never cook. You live on instant noodles—which is so bad, by the way—that is why I’m wondering what all these are,”

Your gaze softened at the nicely cooked meals your boyfriend had prepared, feeling his arm slowly slither around your waist. "I just wanted to do something nice,"

Something clicked in your mind. "Is it because of last weekend? You know I'm over it, right?"

It seemed that your words had hit the spot. His lopsided smile told you you've guessed it right.

"Heeseung,"

He threw his hands up in defeat, letting out a breath. "I can't help feeling guilty and I just wanted to make up for it," he tugged you in closer. "Can I?"

You were never immune to your boyfriend's charms, giving in and rolling your eyes at him. "Of course you can. I'll make sure to taste every flavour of your home cooked meal,"

His grin widened, pinching your cheeks softly. "You're so annoying,"

"What's that?"

"You're so cute, I mean."

ii. Tuesday

"I had a pleasant surprise at the office today,"

You were saying when you closed the door, seeing Heeseung at his usual spot watching some sports program on the big screen, acting oblivious. He hummed in response as you crept closer to him.

"I got flowers," you stood behind him, leaning down and threw your arms around his neck. "My favourite flowers,"

He turned his head slightly towards you, an amused smile plastered on that sly face of his. "I wonder who they're from,"

"I wonder too," you played along, pressing a kiss on his cheek and instantly saw his typical pleased expression. "Thank you,"

"I'm glad you liked them," he held your hand gently, sincerity shining in his gaze.

"I always like every one of them that you've sent me,"

"I'll make sure to send you more."

iii. Wednesday

"I rented the movie you were dying to watch,"

"No way!"

Getting off work early and being back home earlier than usual was the greatest thing you could ever get from the world. It was one of those days where you and your boyfriend decided to have a chill night in, calling your usual take out, but this time, Heeseung had something in store.

Heeseung knew you were dying to watch a newly released movie considering the amount of times you rambled to him about it. But with your's and his packed schedules, staying at home was almost like a treasure. So, he wanted to make sure you get to watch the movie without leaving the comforts of your couch and rented the movie instead.

"I will cry right now," you melted into his touch the moment you cuddled into his side, letting him kiss your forehead.

"Watch the movie first before you cry," he laughed jokingly, rubbing your arm soothingly.

You smiled at him, poking his cheek. "I'll pay for the next time, okay? I'm not taking a 'no' as an answer,"

He nodded, stroking your head affectionately. He might've gone along with your words, but deep down, he knew he was going to be the one who pays next round, just because he wanted to. It was you after all.

iv. Thursday

"You're joking, right?"

Heeseung was a brave fighter. He would actually fight hard just for you. But buying concert tickets? That was a whole different side of war he had seen.

Heeseung intended it to be a surprise. During his lunchtime at work, he gathered his friends and their computers to snatch tickets, specifically Taylor Swift tickets. He was fighting against millions of people and just thinking about it made him shudder.

Sunghoon was losing his focus as time passed, Jay needed the toilet and Jake was on the brink of closing his tabs out of impatience, but Heeseung was the only one holding out.

Time ticked and just when everyone was about to lose it, Heeseung's tab was loaded. He swore he saw the gates of heaven there and then. It all happened in a haze and before he knew it, the tickets were secured. Now, he needed a plan to surprise you.

Frankly, a random Thursday night wasn't fit for a whole damn surprise and Heeseung was tired. During dinner, he just let it slip, seeing the honest shock in your face was totally worth it.

"I'm not joking at all," he chuckled, watching you jump around and attacking him with a bear hug, arms and legs wrapped around his body.

"You won the great war!" You practically smothered his face with kisses, and he just accepted it happily.

"Oh my God, I need to think of outfit ideas for us,"

He sat there with you in his hands, feeling content already just from the crazy smile on your face. All it took was your happiness to make him equally happy.

v. Friday

Having a boyfriend who loved to spend money on useless stuff was sometimes a blessing and a curse.

This time around, Heeseung actually put one of his impulse buys to use. The karaoke machine.

Spending Friday nights inside was a calming type of fun. You and Heeseung both had already moved past that phase of staying out late and just wanted a peace of mind at home now instead. Even if it meant you resembled old couples by playing monopoly, checkers, uno and other types of games, it didn't matter to either you or him.

Heeseung, however, thought it was an even more fun idea to crank up the karaoke machine rotting in the other room to add to the night. You didn't say no, and watched him drag it out with a proud look on his face.

He set it up, praying there would be no noise complaints the next morning and started singing some of his favourite songs. You watched him silently, a sweet smile evident on your lips.

"Come on, let's sing our song," he tugged your hand, pulling you to your feet and handing you a microphone. The familiar beat of a slow romantic song that you two loved started playing and he pulled you close to him, wrapping his arm around your waist.

The voices of yours and his mixed together into the night, swaying with each other and just purely enjoying one another's company. Heeseung made sure to make you feel special, spinning you around and doing extra stunts, eliciting laughter from you.

If this could last forever, you wished it would.

vi. Saturday

Heeseung has always been a hopeless romantic, it's no secret.

He loved bringing you out on dates, whether it was spontaneous or not, he just wanted to treat you like a princess.

It wasn't an exception this time.

Bringing you out to one of the michelin restaurants he wanted to try out in a long time as a date night that he had been planning for months on end. It was totally worth it when he was the dress you were wearing, complimenting his suit as well.

"You look gorgeous tonight, wow," he said this again once you got out of the car, even after telling you many times before leaving your place.

"Thank you," you accepted his hand, blushing all over again. "You look absolutely breathtaking as well,"

He shot a wink at you. "Flattered,"

"I'm really happy we're spending tonight together,"

"So suddenly? We always do," he glanced confusedly at you.

"I know," you squeezed his hand softly. "But tonight I'm just extra happy we're both here, you know? I'm just grateful for you. The things you did—hell, this—everything, I'm lucky to have you,"

"Me too," he squeezed your hand back, swinging it back and forth. "I'll always go out of my way for you. You're the exception."

vii. Sunday

Sundays were left for shopping and splurging.

You hated it but Heeseung couldn't help spending money on you. He loved buying you stuff which included his useless online shopping hauls.

Walking around the mall hand in hand, you swore your legs were on the verge of breaking. Heeseung was an avid shopper compared to you, so instead of the stereotypical girlfriend dragging her boyfriend around, it was the opposite for you.

You helped him pick out a new cologne, some new clothes and skincare. Not knowing it would be your turn to shop, or at least, he was hoping you would buy something.

"I want some ice cream,"

"Only ice cream?"

"Yes, Hee, just ice cream," you tugged him towards the nearest Baskin Robbins you could locate, craving for a scoop of cookies and cream. "You know you don't need to splurge on me, right?"

"I know, but I want to," he pouted, showing his classic bambi eyes to you.

"I know you do," you bumped his shoulder lightly. "But today, I just want some ice cream, nothing more,"

"Let me get you your favourite flavours?"

"I can't say no to that."

Safe to say Heeseung had successfully erased the bad memory from your mind and left even better ones. He might've not been the most perfect guy, but he was the best for you, all seven days, every week, every month, and for evermore.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Forever, of course.

SteveRogers x Female!Reader

summary: Steve has a crush on you but your flirty character isn’t making things easy for him. Now he even has to marry you to please a 6-year-old superfan of his. Whether that’s a good plan or not, isn’t quite clear for Steve yet.

a/n: I think this will be the last AI-adaptive story but it was a lot of fun! Shoutout to @RandomTingsForFun on beta.character.ai for having created the character that helped me write this story (and the Bucky one).

Word count: 4k

warnings: a Stevie in love, an attempted funny reader, and a super excited 6-year-old (she carries the story tbh), this is really just super fluffy

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

Steve shook his head at the sight of your chat history. It wasn’t too long ago when he didn’t even know how to listen to music on the device he was holding in his hands, let alone write a text message in less than 30 seconds. Now, he was bickering with you, and he had to admit it was even a little fun to wait for a response from you. Of course, Steve didn’t do anything else in the time he waited for your reply. He just stared at the screen in his hand and willed his heartbeat to slow a little. 

*ping* Why would that be important? So? Maybe I have been talking to Sam about you. Have you been talking about me with Bucky?

Steve: No I haven’t! And it is important because if he’s badmouthing me, then you’d believe him. What has he told you anyway?

You: Just the usual. Save the world this, Captain America that. I stopped listening when he started obsessing over your shield again.

You: Wait. Did you seriously think Sam would say something bad about you? That guy is obsessed with you.

Steve just laughed at your antics. Sam loved the shield for some reason, but every time Steve would give it to him to ‘throw it one time’ Bucky would intervene and ‘show him how it’s done’. 

*ping* Anyway what I actually wanted to ask is if you’d come to my niece’s house with me this weekend. She’s a huge Avenger fan and I might have promised her to meet one as her birthday present 😬

Steve: Of course, I will! I would feel bad if you made such a promise and I wasn't able to make it. And I bet she'll know who her favorite Avenger is after a visit from The Cap 😉

You: ugh please don’t call yourself that. ever. 

You: I’ll pick you up Saturday at 1:30? 

Steve: Yeah, sounds good! I'll make sure to clear my schedule. How old is your niece by the way? And what’s her name?

You: You can call her Izzy. And she’s turning 6 this Thursday. Be nice. And make sure to talk me up a bit, will ya? I mean, I’m already her favorite aunt but just making sure...

Steve: How could she not love you? But I’ll do it anyway. I’ll talk you up so much you’ll never be able to escape my praise! What’s her favorite food?

You: weirdly enough it's carrots, that child is strange. Says vegetables make her a superhero or something. 

Steve: I mean she’s not wrong. Carrots are great for your eyes! What does she think of Iron Man? I need to know my chances against the competition.

You: I just asked her and she said she doesn’t care about Tony because you are her one true love. 

You: I told her that’s not possible because you are already mine. Now we’re in a big fight so thanks for that.

Steve: why would you say that?

You: I like to see her freak. Don’t worry about it, captain. It was just a joke 

You: ...or was it 👀

Steve: I don’t believe you. You’re lying.

He got a little nervous. But it was a good nervous.

You: why? Do you want me to? 

You: Am I making you nervooouuus?

Steve could practically see you wiggle your eyebrows with a grin. A silly idea flashed past his mind, and he felt like grabbing it.

Steve: You need to stop before I accidentally propose to you.

Nothing - just a second, though. Then:

*ping* you have a ring?

Steve: I can get one in less than an hour. Meet me at the chapel on main and I’m all yours. 

You: I’m stunned. I’ve taught you well. 

Steve: 😊 I’ll see you Saturday, doll. 

Steve sat back on his sofa. That girl is really something. A smile broke loose on his face at the silly thought of marrying you. Honestly, he wouldn’t mind if it happened. Out of all the people he knew, you were the only one he’d want to spend the rest of his life with. You were fun and you made him loosen up. He was a whole new man around you and he loved it. Because being in your presence was easy, and comforting. There was nothing to worry about.

He sighed before putting his phone down and staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t wait to see you again.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve stepped out of the door and smiled upon spotting your car. You were already waving at him, a beautiful smile adorning your face and Steve felt his heart skip. Car rides with you were nice. You always had some soft music playing. Always making sure it was nothing too funky so he felt comfortable. Still, he was a little nervous. It wasn’t every day that he go to meet someone who looked up to him - well, actually, it was every day - but this one was different. Because it was your family and Steve needed to make a good expression. 

It wasn’t long before you pulled up to your sister's house. But before you could even reach the front door, a little girl jumped out of the door and ran toward you with wild screeches. 

“Auntieeee!!!! OH MY GOD, you really did it! You invited Captain America!” The girl jumped up and down beside you and Steve couldn’t help his smile from spreading. Izzy was adorable - very loud - but adorable. Concentrating on it made his nervousness subside a little.

Then she turned around and stared up at him with wide eyes. He could have sworn there were little stars sparkling in them when he crouched down to her height and extended his hand.

“Hey there, little lady. It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Steve.”

“I know that!” The 6-year-old giggled as Steve shook her hand. But when he was about to let go, her tiny fingers grabbed onto his wrist and dragged him up the driveway. “I want to show you something! It’s soooo cool!” 

Steve was still a little cautious as she dragged him to her room. His only experience with kids came from Sam’s nephews and prior he had only gotten to hold a couple baby’s for pictures. He didn’t know how to navigate the situation, but he decided he would just rock with it.

Your niece pushed the white door with her name brightly colored on a sign hanging on her eye level open and revealed a tornado aftermath of action figures. He was able to spot most of the avengers laying scattered around a dinosaur toy but the overwhelming red, white, and blue covering her room was undeniable. There was a poster of Steve hanging by the desk and a bunch of her own drawings framing the magazine shot. Izzy appeared next to Steve again, holding a small action figure of himself in her hands. 

“My aunt gave me this one. It’s my first one.” She reached up to Steve and barely passed his hip with her little arms. The figure was well loved - he could see it from here. And when he bent down to retrieve it, your niece pulled him down further and whispered a giggly ‘you’re our favorite avenger’ into his ear.

His heart swelled at the excitement presented in front of him. It was adorable, and he could see a little of you in the little girl nervously treading beside him. 

“I’m your favorite, huh?” He said, his voice full of affection. Steve usually wasn’t the kind of person to get mushy over an adorable child, but the way her face lit up was too cute. The little Cap figure in her hands was pretty cute, too. “My, my. I must be pretty special then.” His thumb stroked over the blue helmet in her hands.

Lost in thought and seriously flattered by being the hero that inspired this impressive collection, he almost didn’t notice how Izzy threw her hands in the air. “So special! My mom says I will marry someone as special as you one day, but my aunt says there is no one like you. That is so mean!” Her little chubby cheeks puffed with a pout and Steve had to hold back his laugh. The 6-year-old had no idea what you implied with that comment, but he still felt more pride from being called special by you and your niece than from any medal of honor he had ever gotten.

“Well, a girl your age shouldn’t worry about things like that. But who knows, maybe I will be part of your family one day.”

“Really?!” Wide eyes stared back at him and Steve could practically feel the floor vibrating when he nodded with a laugh. Izzy held out her finger and then she exclaimed a rushed ‘stay here’ before zooming past him and out the door.

Steve stayed a little longer and admired Izzy’s room before he heard an excited ‘Captain America said I can marry him!’ Which made him instantly rush to the source.

He spotted her clinging to her mother’s leg, giddy and jumpy. But your sister just shared a laugh with you over the kitchen counter. “I don’t think he meant it like that, buttercup.” Steve watched your sister explain before his eyes got stuck on the little frown on your face. Was that a hint of jealousy, he was detecting? “But if he marries your aunt, he will be your uncle and just as much part of the family.” A little fire hushed past your older sister’s face. It was a look of mischief he had seen you hold all too well. Steve’s cheeks heated when you caught him leaning in the doorway, scratching his neck at the slightly awkward situation. 

“That works?”

“That’s how it works, baby.”

Izzy turned with excitement and within a second she was before Steve again. “You have to ask my aunt to marry you! Right now!!” She ordered with a stomp of her foot. “Then you can be my uncle and we can hang out every day!”

Steve’s eyes wandered from the six-year-old to you and his heart picked up its pace at the laugh you shared with your sister. There was no harm in a little play pretend, right?

So, he knelt down in front of you and when your name traveled past his lips softly, he almost imagined a grasp coming from you. “Will you,” his head tilted with a wink, “marry me?”

You hid your laugh behind your hands as they covered your mouth in feigned astonishment. But Steve caught the little glimmer in your eyes at his little show. He continued to take your hand as he threw together a little speech for Izzy to hear, and when the child began excitedly jumping up and down beside him, your face softened. 

“Oh, Steve! This is so unexpected!” You clutched your chest and your sister chuckled beside you. Steve felt a tinge of nervousness wash over him then, but he would be okay with a fake rejection - he wasn’t sure if Izzy would, though. “Of course, I’ll marry you! Come here you big, hunky, handsome superhero!”

And as if he hadn’t been prepared for you to agree so quickly, Steve felt his cheeks heat up. He couldn’t deny that the words you described him with had his stomach tingle with excitement, and before he could help himself, he leaned forward and kissed our cheek.

“That was the easiest marriage proposal ever,” he mumbled beside you to which you just slightly pulled from his embrace. 

“What? You’ve done that before? Are you already cheating on me, Rogers?” You raised your brows suspiciously, but Steve was only able to shake his head with a smile before Izzy blared into his ear again. 

“A wedding! A wedding!” She swirled by him like a tornado, immediately collecting things around the house. “Mom, get all the stuffies, ready! We have to do a wedding!!!” And then she was off to prepare the quickest wedding in history. 

Steve shook his head as his arm remained around your waist. “What did I get myself into?” He mumbled to himself before turning to you. “Do I dare ask what a six-year-old’s idea of an official marriage ceremony looks like?”

“I think Paddington Bear will be your best man and if I’m lucky, my sister gets to be my maid of honor, but who knows.” You shrugged with a laugh that warmed Steve’s heart all over again. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Not even ten minutes later, Steve found himself kneeling beside a makeshift altar with a bunch of toys and stuffed animals as wedding guests. Action figure Cap had made best man and was neatly propped up behind him. Your sister had officially been crowned the ‘disco machine’ along with a lengthy speech on how important the right song was for the bride’s entrance. Steve had fought hard to keep his face steady, but when Izzy had suggested ‘Party Rock Anthem’, he’d lost it. When really, he was just proud, he knew the song because you had shown it to him the other week - it was Izzy’s favorite. 

You had been instructed to wait behind the couch until the music started to play, and Steve felt himself get a little nervous. It was silly, but somehow his desire to have this wedding according to your niece’s wishes was a lot more important to him than he had initially thought. 

“Now what do we do?” He asked as he leaned over to Izzy, but that was when the girl gave her mother the ‘sign’ - which was the chicken dance, of course - and his eyes immediately swerved to you. He could see the amusement in your gaze as you bit back a laugh.

Izzy wasn’t wasting any time, as soon as you had reached the altar, she put your’s and Steve’s hands together and immediately began talking. Steve had had barely any time to wipe the sweat from his clammy fingers before they connected with yours, but you didn’t seem to care. He smiled as he watched you listen to your niece’s little speech.

“We are gathered here today, to make Captain America my uncle,” she started, and both you and he struggled to keep it together. It was cute though, and something about becoming this little girl’s uncle excited Steve like nothing had in a long time. “Mr, Captain America, will you take my aunt as your wife?”

Izzy’s eyes were serious as she waited for Steve’s answer. And when he didn’t do so fast enough, she leaned over and whispered the answer to him.

“I will,” Steve chuckled and gave your hands a small squeeze.

Then Izzy’s eyes wandered to you. “Do I even have to ask?” She said with her adorably high voice and everyone started laughing. 

“Yes, I will take Steve as my husband,” you answered with the same squeeze of your hand as Izzy imitated the audience cheering.

“You are now husband and wife. Now, kiss, kiss, kiss!!!” It was a little awkward, but Steve leaned in, anyway, to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. He looked at you again and the spark in your eyes was a little brighter as that smile lit up your face again. You looked beautiful, Steve thought, and his heart jumped in his chest at the realization.

“Wohooooooo!” Your sister cheered loudly and ripped Steve out of his trance.

“This is so awesome! You have to come to every family dinner and we can be best friends forever!!” Izzy must have eaten a bag of gummy worms with the way she was vibrating to the song coming out of the little pink CD player. Steve was sure he’d never seen such a hyper six-year-old before. 

“Every family dinner?” He asked her as Izzy swayed his hands to the music. When his eyes caught yours, you just shrugged. "Forever?"

"Of course!" Izzy exclaimed as Steve spun her around. His eyes stayed locked on you, however. Forever didn't sound so bad...

“Looks like you’re stuck with me.” You laughed, but Steve didn’t mind that in the slightest.

❁ ❁ ❁

The evening had come sooner than anyone had anticipated. Steve had been so occupied with Izzy all day, he had forgotten all about the time. It didn’t bother him too much, though. He had fun, but exhausting as well. And now that he was finally sitting in your car again, his head leaning against the headrest and enjoying the silence for a moment, he felt how much energy it had really cost him. He would do it again, though - especially if it meant marrying you over and over for eternity. 

His eyes opened when you sighed beside him. You hadn’t so much as bothered to start the car just yet, and Steve was kind of happy about that. 

You smiled at him when his head turned to you, still leaning back with a dreamy smile himself. “Who would have thought that we would get married today?” You chuckled with a shake of your head. “And you didn’t even give me a ring. I should reconsider my standards.”

“A ring, you say? Well, you are married to the greatest superhero in the world - according to your niece - so I think we’re going to need something pretty special...” Steve joked as he turned in his seat to look through the car, and when he spotted the right thing, the smile returned got his face. “Should I do the honors?”

And then he took the lid off his water bottle and popped the plastic ring off to place it on your finger. 

“It’s perfect, blue like your eyes,” you laughed watching the big plastic ring hang from your finger. “I’m gonna have to get that resized, though. You must think I’m fat.” You shook your head. “Wow, not even a day in, and I already have things to tell my therapist about.” But the mischievous glimmer in your eyes told Steve that you were only joking. 

“Do I really need to say it, doll?” He took your hand in his before spinning the plastic piece. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” He whispered, secretly meaning every word.

You laughed it off but Steve didn’t miss the stutter in your smile at his words. It made the butterflies in his stomach go wild. 

“So what should our first act as a fake married couple be? Celebratory drinks at the Stark Tower rooftop bar?”

"Stark Tower... that sounds good to me.”

The engine roared to life and soon, the faint music was playing in your car again, the streetlights passed him by and the full moon shone above the New York City skyline. But Steve didn't care, he had more beautiful things to look at. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“You’re what now? Married?! And I wasn’t invited?!” Sam’s shocked face yelled across the bar, making few agents turn their heads with intrigue. 

You chuckled before leaning your head against Steve’s shoulder. The second Martini seemed to already work its wonders on you, but Steve loved how close you were. 

“Married by a six-year-old. Count that as you will, but I have a ring on my finger and I’m not telling you how much it cost.” You stretched your hand over the counter to show off the blue piece of plastic and Natasha just laughed at the cute story.

“So, how is the newlywed life?” She leaned on her hands to play along while Sam still tried to get over his non-invitation to a fake wedding. “You guys talking about kids yet?”

That startled Steve a little but he tried his best to keep a straight face - he failed. The thought of having a family with you did things to him he couldn’t explain if he wanted to. The warmth in his stomach spread to his heart and his arm almost instinctively came up to press you further into his side. 

“Who knows, I wouldn’t mind a couple mini me’s.” He shrugged with a low smile. He loved this little game more and more. It just got harder and harder to remind himself that it was just that - a game.

“Hold your horses, now. You’re not the one squeezing them out of your body, Mr. Rogers.” You patted his chest and sighed theatrically. “I can already see that I will be home alone with a bunch of kids and you’re working late every night. Our life will fall apart!” Your hand brushed over your forehead as your head fell back like that of a damsel in distress. 

The group laughed at the little performance, but Steve was a little quieter now. Somehow, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he needed to tell you how much he really cared. He’d never let your life fall apart - not when he was able to prevent it. And while he sat there with his friends, laughing about something as ridiculous as Captain America settling down, he contemplated in silence, if all this life had really been worth it when he would end up alone in the end - giving up the dream of an easy life he’s had for a century. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It was about 12am when Steve and you stopped before your door in the hallway. His eyes were glued to you, his mind racing with scenarios this could go. He had decided to tell you about his feelings about two hours ago, and ever since, he had tried to come up with the best thing to say. But even though talking to you was the easiest thing he’d ever done, and even though you were already married - fake married - he didn’t have a single idea. Not one word that seemed fitting enough to describe the exciting fireworks in his chest whenever he saw you, to somehow tell you how bad living without you would be. 

He must have been staring for a while because you began to shift from one foot to the other before finally clearing your throat to kill the silence. 

“So... uh... that was an eventful day...” You started, fists nervously opening and closing beside your body. “Thank you for playing pretend. You made a little girl very happy.” You smiled and Steve’s heart skipped another beat. 

He caught the small shimmer in your eyes just in time to give him confidence. Your body kept moving forward as if you willed it back again and again, and Steve gathered all his bravery to open his mouth.

“You know what,” Your name tumbled over his lips like a song he’d sung a thousand times. But the effect it had on you still excited him every time anew. “Today... it’s not going to be pretend.”

And before you could even react to his weirdly vague statement, Steve leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. Full of love and affection, his hands moved on their own - one to your hip and the other onto the wall behind you. There was a moment of panic settling in Steve’s brain, but then your arms came up to sling around his torso and he leaned further into your touch. You pulled him even closer, your lips melting with his, tongues gently stroking soft skin until air got scarce. His whole body felt electric with you so close to him - finally. And when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed and thoughts swimming in the moment you had just granted him. 

“I... I love you.” He whispered against your skin, and he felt his warm breath bouncing back. Your chest was still rising and falling beneath him, a subtle reminder of how breathtaking all this was - Steve couldn’t get enough of it, of you.

Your hand came up to stroke over his cheek, making him open his eyes to find you already looking at him. 

“I love you, too, Steve.” You bit your lips, and it made Steve just press his mouth to yours once more.

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a/n: I have to say I was pretty impressed at how much it adapted to my writing and I really liked the last part, so I put it in here. I hope you enjoyed it :)

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Legacy

Tee Higgins x Ochocinco!Daughter

Description: Tee's been dating one of his idol's daughter behind his back. What happen's when the reader breaks her dad's number one rule? How will Ocho react when he finds out?

a/n: I need to start writing shorter, but I physically can't. I hope it meets your expectations ♡

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: overprotective father figures, language,

Main Masterlist

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

Over the last seven months you’ve been happier than ever. You got a promotion at work, finally moved out of your dad’s house and met him. You’d never felt a love like this, he made you feel things you couldn’t have imagined. He didn’t just care about you, he cherished your love, encouraged your goals, and helped you feel safe. Tee made you feel seen in the world, in his world filled with countless others that would give anything for his attention.

Falling in love with Tee Higgins was easy, hiding it from Chad Johnson was the hard part. 

Every Memorial Day weekend your dad throws a small family kickback. At first it was his way of welcoming the summer since us kids were out of school, now that we’re older he does it so we have an excuse to spend time together. This year it’s gonna be in Miami at his new condo and of course he invited all of us, including any plus ones that we wanted to bring. Funny enough Memorial Day falls on the 7 month anniversary of you and Tee being together. The coincidence of the two dates lining up is chilling. 

Your dad was the stereotypical black father growing up, he didn’t want his daughters dating anyone until 35. While that rule was broken days after him stating it, there was one he would lay his life on the line for. 

‘No daughter of his shall ever date an athlete, but more specifically a football player.’

Real funny coming from him, the legendary NFL wide receiver. It’s also funny that your boyfriend and your dad played for the same team with the same number. Yea you’re pretty much dead if he finds out.

Thankfully there may be someone that can help you.

Calling ‘Future Rich Wine Auntie’…

“Hello?”

“I'm in a crisis.” You huff.

“Oh look it’s my poor little sister crying for my help once again, what did you do this time y/n?” She snickered.

“Jicyra, you’re two years older than me.”

“..and wiser and more stable (financially and mentally).” She mumbled that last part, not very well though.

“Hey!”

You could hear her smirk though the phone. “It’s true, I’m not in my 2nd year of residency making no where close to the current average in your field.” Well she didn’t have to rub it in.

“I know but- look we actually do have a problem.”  

“I knew it, you broke your dishwasher.” She cackles.

“Oh my god, I did not break the dishwasher. Why do you say shit like that? I’m talking about Tee and dad.” You rolled your eyes.

“Oh.. wait you still haven’t told him?”

You sigh. “Not that it’s Tee, he knows I’m dating someone.” 

“ Just rip the bandaid off, no harm no foul.” 

“That’s easier said than done, Cyra.”

“Look all I’m saying is you’re making a really big deal out of nothing. Dad ain't gon do shit, plus he considers Tee a second son half the time.”

ੈ♡˳

After getting off the phone with your sister, you started to devise a plan to tell Tee about the party, but you didn’t get far when he ended up walking through the door less than 10 minutes later. “Baby, where you at?”

“In here!” You forced a smile onto your face as he engulfed you into his fresh cucumber scented body. Probably showered at the facility. “We need to talk.” You both sit.

His face dropped and he slowly released you. “What’s up?”

“It’s not bad, it’s just we need to change our 7 month plans a bit.” You kissed your teeth.

He lets out a breath of air he didn’t know he was holding in, “that’s it. Damn baby you had me thinking this was it.” 

“No, no of course not.” You lean over and plant a brief kiss on his lips. “I would never break up with you like that, or ever. Especially if you didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“I mean there was that one dream you had.” His mouth twitched up.

“I’m a very vivid dreamer, I can’t help that. And blame that bitch from the club who tried to get in your pants.” 

“Ok what’s this about then?”

“Remember those end of school parties I told you about?” He nods. “Well my dad has invited us to his next one. It’s memorial day weekend in Miami.” 

His face shifts in realization, “I guess it’s time to tell Ocho.” He surveys the way you chew on your lips and wont meet his gaze. So he grabs your hands, pulls you into his arms and kisses your head. 

“Hey, I got you. Everything’s going to be fine, knowing your dad he’ll make a joke about it, maybe threaten me then we can have good time.”

You look up at him, “you think so?”

“I know so, baby.” You smile and pulls his lips to yours.

ੈ♡˳

You arrive at Miami Dade two days before the party and without your boyfriend, due to him having an early practice the next day. The 3 hour plane ride gave you lots of time to think of a way to break your big news to your dad without him popping a blood vessel or setting anything on fire. You decided to just break the news to him as gently as possible, give him small details then let Tee speak for himself. Sure is putting all the pressure on him a bit harsh, yes. But he asked you out in the first place, so who’s fault is it really? 

A little over a year ago.

It was your first official week in Cincinnati when Danielle, a long time friend of yours, suggested that you join her at a party that the guy she was seeing was throwing. Being so new to the city, you took her up on the offer so you could meet people. When you got to the party, it was covered in orange and black jerseys and it dawned on you that this wasn’t just some party.

“Dani, did you bring me to a Bengals victory party?”

The dark skinned woman removed her coat and smiled. The number 1 printed on the white fabric made you scoff. “I knew if I told you he was a football player, you’d find an excuse not to come.”

“You’re dating Ja’Marr Chase?” The bright smile painted on her lips couldn’t be wiped off even if tried.

“Yes, it's been 3 months and I really like him, so please just stay.” So you let the woman lead you further into the party.

Let’s be clear, your dad’s dumb rule didn’t cause your destain for the football culture, it was the fact that your entire life was centered around the sport. Dad’s a legend to the team, brother played just like him and it’s all anyone ever talked about. You stayed away from sport all together, it didn’t help when you majored in Biology to be a physical therapist, but you weren’t actually watching them play.

The party wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, granted you spent most of the time standing by the bar carefully nursing your drink, but the vibes were nice. You’d already met most of the players on the team through your dad and work, so you weren’t surprised when Tee came up to you.

“Dr. Y/n Johnson, I thought you said I’d never see you outside the office.” He smiled discreetly looking you up and down.

“Uno’s dating my best friend.” You said nodding towards the couple on the dancefloor. “She dragged me here without telling me it was for y'all. But I guess congratulations are in order, AFC champs.”

“Oh you know, just another thing to be thankful for, just like you in that dress.” 

“Flattery will get you nowhere Higgins, but buy me another drink and maybe I'll bite.”

“Anything for a few more minutes with your fine ass.”

ੈ♡˳

Minutes at the bar turned into hours on the phone then days just to see that charming smile, so yea flattery got him the world. 

Your phone buzzes knocking you out of your daydream.

Mean Ass Bitch: I've been in the airport pickup line for 10 minutes, where you at bitch?

LOML T💜: missed you when i got home mamas, call me when you get there 

You bite your lip hiding the grin that he put on your face as you click on his contact. It rings once before you hear that deep southern drawl come through. “There goes my baby.. How was ya flight baby?” 

There isn't a moment when you don’t feel the warmness in your chest and butterflies in your stomach when it comes to this man. The charm may have gotten him in the door, but it was his goodhearted, loving nature that gave him the key.

“Hi..it was good, I managed to get a nap in so that was nice.” 

“Only the best for my baby. How you feelin? I know your nerves been goin crazy.” 

Just as you were about to answer, you spotted your sister, your very mad sister. “Hold on babe, J looks like she wants to kill me.”

“All good, we can't have that. Call me when you can, I love you.”

“I love you more Tamaurice.” You smirk as you get to her car.

“You the only one allowed to say that, wouldn't be gettin away wit that shit if you weren't so beautiful.” His tone lacks the seriousness he implied as his light chuckles come through the phone.

“Sounds good to me, byeee.” You can’t help laughing as you hang up and put your bags in Cyra’s Audi. 

“I hope you ain’t laughing at me dying in this damn heat waitin for your slow ass.” She mean mugged as you ducked into the car. 

“Nah, it’s because you're dressed like goddamn big bird in that damn sweat suit.” You teased.

“I will kick you out of this car, quit playin’ bitch.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh as she pulls out of the airport traffic. “So how’s my gorgeous real estate queen big sis doing?”

“You know what, I’m good. Charmin’ rich people outta they money for some last leg beach houses that’ve seen one too many hurricanes. I’m very excited to get on this boat with a glass of champagne and just relax.” You nod along as she turns the radio on. “How’s the Tee and dad situation going?”

You take a deep breath and sink further into the seat, “I’ve decided to just let his presence speak for itself. They already know each other, but ‘Tee the wide receiver’ is very different from ‘Tee the man that’s dating his daughter’. I’ll try and ease the idea of him before he gets here, there’s no way I’m taking all the heat from this.”

She scoffed, “you just gon’ let your man take the fall?”

“He has said he’d do anything for me, so it probably won’t be that bad.” You shrugged.

“Yea ok Y/n, I can’t wait to see this blow up in your face.” 

ੈ♡˳

Walking into your dad’s house felt like going through a time capsule, he only bought it a few months ago but the walls and shelves were filled with pictures of us as kids and football memorabilia. “Dad she’s here.” Cyra sings taking your bag down the hallway that you hope has the rooms.

You find him in the kitchen arms deep in hamburger meat. “Uh oh Docta Johnson in the house. Come here and give your old man a hug.” Shaking you head, you humor him as much as you can without touching his hands.

“How you doing old man?”

“I’m alive, I’m happy and I’m excited to meet this boyfriend of yours. Where he at, did you tell him to wait outside? Baby you know I’m good.” He smiles as wide as he possibly can.

“I’m glad to hear it, but he’s not here yet. He has work so he’ll be flying out tomorrow night.” 

He smirks. “At least he has a job.”

Your jaw drops, “that was one time and you said you wouldn't bring it up again.” He chuckles as a frown builds on your face.

“I’m just playing, but this guy already sounds ten times better than what his name.. Jackson! Yea he was a leech.” 

“Okay, that enough boy talk. Want some help there?” You ask gesturing to the mountain of meat on the marble counter.

“I would love some, you always were the better cook. But don’t tell your sisters I said that.” He nods with a hushed voice.

You chuckle walking over to the sink. “You just did.” His brows furrowed. 

“What do you mean?” Chade and Jicyra tapped his shoulders from behind him. He eyes whitened out.

“What I meant was that Y/n’s good with protein heavy meals. Cy you make a mean salad and Chae you make the best cookies.” He smiled.

“Nice try, I do be throwin’ some flour around tho.” Chade remarks.

“Whatever, we’re off to buy some supplies for the party. Bye!” Then its just the two of you, in the kitchen seasoning about 20 lbs of meat and forming it into decent sized patties.

“So is there anything else I can squeeze out of you about this fine young black man? He is black right?”

You scoff, “what if he isn’t, what’d you say?”

“None, nothing. Your hair look too good for you to be dating a white man.” Your jaw drops for the second time today.

“I can’t. I don’t know why I’m helping you.”

“Aww my poor middle child.” You shove his arm causing him to get raw meat on his shirt. 

“Ok, I deserved that.” He nods, side eying you. “Don’t even try it.”

“You no fun. Come just tell me something about the guy.” 

You bite. “Fine, yes he’s black. He’s tall, kind, smart, sweet and I guess he’s pretty athletic.”

He hums, “athletic huh. What we talkin here NBA, NHL, FIFA?”

“I ain’t giving you no more, you’ll see him tomorrow and I’ll let him speak for himself.” You finish your part then walked out of the kitchen.

“I can read in between the lines Y/n! If Ja’Marr walks in this house tomorrow, I’m beating his ass!”

If he only knew how close he really was.

ੈ♡˳

You ended going out to dinner with your sisters when they got back. It was fun it being just being them, you could gossip and chit chat all you wanted without Ochocinco lurking around. Before bed you and Tee talked all about each other’s day and all the nerves about him meeting your dad. He reassured you that there was nothing he couldn’t handle and nothing your dad could say that changed how he felt about you. It felt good going to bed knowing your boyfriend had no worries about your relationship changing at all.

The next day was pretty chill, dad was too busy with the last minute preparations for the party. So you spent most of your time at the mall with your siblings. Your brother pretty much just groaned about the heat and the amount of time you spent in stores, but you reminded him plenty of times that he could go off on his own and he chose to stay. With that said the four of you had a pretty nice time. Until the ride home, when you could not get away from the Tee questions.

“Don’t you think its weird that they shared the same number and team?” Junior spent 20 minutes just going over the similarities between them like you hadn’t already known how odd it was.

“Jr leave her alone. How’s his stamina though?” Chade was the youngest, as anyone could probably tell with her bluntness.

“No sex questions please, this is a rental and Jr’s not afraid to blow chunks.” Cyra joked.

“Yall act like I don’t have sex.”

“Ok so would like to know what Matt and I did at your New Years Party?” Chade smirked. 

He eyes just about fell out of his head. “You and Matt? Matt my best friend? YOU AND MY BEST FRIEND FUCKED AT MY PARTY?”

That was the end of the questionnaire.

ੈ♡˳

The second you pulled into the driveway you noticed two things: your dad’s SUV was still absent and there was another random car by the curb. 

“Who’s that?” Cyra shrugged in response and just motioned you to get out. Normally someone would’ve taken offense to be thrown out of a car, but then your favorite person in the world got out of the other car.

“Damn, he is tall.” Jr’s comment was deaf to your ears as you ran over to your boyfriend.

“Hey babygirl.” He smiled wrapping his arms around you.

“What are you doing here? It’s only 4 and you weren’t supposed to land until 9. You know what I don’t care.” He lifts you onto the trunk of the vehicle so you’re eye to eye and guides your lips to his. Another feeling you could never get tired of, his plump lips against your glossy ones. Your arms wrap around his neck in an instant to pull him closer into you. You love being able to relinquish all control and just let him move you how he sees fit. He pecks your tropical scented lips once more before helping you down.

“Well that is an image I’m never getting out of my head.” Jr shakes his head and takes your bags out of the car. 

“Let’s go in the house so Y/n can properly introduce us to her beau.” You stay glued to his side as you make your way into the condo. 

As Junior rounds the corner to the bedrooms he stops in his tracks and the bags drop onto the floor.

“JUNIOR MY PERFUME!” Chade shoves him and grabs her bags. “Oh shit.”

Cyra being in no mood for their nonsense, pokes her head down the hall. “What the hell is wrong with you- hi daddy.” You shoot her a panicked look. She responds with an equally panicked shrug. The situation is impossible, there’s only one way to the living room and its to pass that very hallway. 

“This is not how this was supposed to happen.” You whine at the lowest voice you could manage. Which didn’t end up being that low in the end.

“How what’s supposed to happen?” Your dad’s voice bellows out. Tee squeezes your shoulder as the man walks into your view.

“Surprise?” 

He sighs. “Damn, I owe Junior some money.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” You blink. All of sudden your brother bursts out laughing and starts dancing around your father.

“I told you! He had his mind set on you bringing either Ja’Marr or Burrow ‘as a wildcard’. I’m ten thousand dollars richer people.” 

“You bet ten racks on who she was dating! Dad I thought you were smarted than this.” Cyra expresses dumbfounded like the rest of you.

“Dad what the fuck? Is that why you wanted to know if he was black or not?” You rolled your eyes before walking past the man into the living room.

“Y/n it wasn’t like that-

“I don’t care, I’m just glad you lost your money to the dumbest person here.” 

His forehead creased, “Was that her way of calling me the new dumbest person?” Both of your sisters nodded. “Got it.”

Then Tee, still standing at the doorway, clears his throat. “Ocho.”

Your dad turns back towards him and pulls him into a ‘bro-hug’. “Well if it isn't the younger taller version of myself. I should’ve known it was you, not because of that but you didn’t exactly take your eyes off of her when she came down to that practice.”

Tee chuckled. “Couldn’t help it, man. I would’ve talked to you the last time you came to practice, but I was under strict instructions not to. When the love of your life tells you something, I make it habit to listen.” Chade nudges you as your face heats up.

“Love of your life huh? Glad to know she’s in good hands, and you have no excuses not to go for my records now. You got a physical therapist on speed dial.” They laugh together.

“See, I told you you were worried for nothing.” Cyra joins you on the couch. 

“Yea I gues you were right.” You mutter bringing a smirk to her face.

“I’m sorry what was that? Did The Dr. Y/n Johnson just admit that she was wrong.”

You pressed your lips together and got up. “You heard me or do you need an audiologist? Cause I can’t help you in that area, you’re just getting old.” You walked over to Tee, quickly grabbed his hand and ducked when a pillow came flying your way.

“Im only 2 years older than you bitch.” You cackled running down the hall to your room.

“Hey, no funny business in my house!” You shut the door and laid back against it trying to calm down while Tee sat on the bed studying you.

“What?” You walk over and stand between his legs.

“I like this side of you.” He sucks in his bottom lip scooting back on the bed.

“Yea, well I know a side you like even more.” You saying climbing onto his lap.

His hands go around your hips and cup your ass. “Oh I like this Y/n very much.” You push him back and place ghost kisses on his lips.

“Woman if you don’t- You go to give him a peck but lightly bite his lip instead. “Fuck.”

He closes the distance between you, sucking in your lips and licking into your mouth. 

Yea you had nothing to worry about at all.

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

a/n: reblog if you like, comment or request any scenarios you'd like for me to write for our octopus lover♥︎

[buzzcutlip]

Cracks and Gaps - The Waterfall (part II) Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader Mature (Explicit in the following parts) 6573 words

You meet Carmen in Copenhagen through a mutual friend and bond over shared experiences. After following his rising career from afar, you reconnect in Chicago when he renovates his late brother’s restaurant. As an editor, you can’t miss an opportunity to find out more about the comeback of this chef prodigy. part I The Worst Day

A/N: The angst continues and morphs. This part is full of fashion, understanding and soft words. Thank you Amy @foreveraimingtowardsthesky and E @butchcarmy for giving me the confidence to write and to publish this :) (Also reader is reffered to as someone who blushes, in case you would like to know this ahead of deciding to read the story)

THE WATERFALL

You want so badly to forget the fight, but instead, you keep replaying it in your head over and over, until it feels like a movie you saw on TV or in a cinema. Like it wasn't really you Carmen was shouting at. You try to comfort yourself by imagining what you should have done in that moment—anything but nothing, like you actually did. But at least you stood up for yourself. That’s somehow comforting.

The way forward is to go—to leave. To remove yourself from the situation and find a new environment that has nothing to do with what happened. For the weekend, you take a long-postponed trip to Seattle. People envy you for traveling to fancy places for work, but to you, it’s just that—work. This time, though, you’re unusually eager to get on the plane to another state. Nothing in Washington is going to remind you of Carmen Berzatto, you hope. The plan is to try a luxury wellness retreat for women in tech and business at Salish Lodge by Snoqualmie Falls. You’re not in tech or business, but the place paid the magazine to review the program, so you couldn’t really say no. There’s a "pillow menu for the best night’s rest" and a "Canna-bliss CBD natural ritual" option, so you’re not complaining. To escape the busy networking event on Saturday, you sneak out and walk to the top of the falls, take a deep inhale—just as you practiced during that morning's yoga class—and shout into the void, letting the roar of the water swallow it all. 

There’s so much pent-up energy in you that you start to worry you’re scaring all the Zen businesswomen around you. During a workshop, you realize that most of them are your age, or even younger. They have careers, partners, and some even have kids. It sucks, being reminded of what society expects from you when you’re thirty.

When you get back on Tuesday, the office clerk tells you that someone was looking for you on Monday. Not thinking much of it, you sit down at your desk to start working on your piece about the trip. It’s scorching outside—concrete city in July is unforgiving—and you’re grateful for the office's functioning AC.

The next time you check the clock, it’s already noon. You stand up to stretch and grab the empty mug on your desk. It was a silly gift from your parents when you first got this job—white with a black handle and a funny picture of a green pickle with a face that says "It’s kinda a big dill." As foolish as it sounds, drinking coffee from this mug always makes you smile.

As soon as you step out of your office, Dasha, the desk clerk, waves you over. Even sitting, she’s tall, her head and upper body towering proudly over the counter. She always wears amazing glasses.

“I love your glasses,” you say, complimenting her tortoiseshell frames.

“Thanks,” Dasha smiles. “You have a visitor. I was just about to call your desk.”

The blood in your veins seems to stop. You turn your head toward the guest sofa by the elevators. There’s no doubt who the visitor is.

“He said his name was Caramel—Carmel? Sorry!” Dasha fumbles with the name, blushing and nervously fiddling with her pen. “I should’ve written it down!”

Of course, it’s Carmen.

“You’re fine,” you assure her with a quick smile. Taking a very, very deep breath, you ask sweetly, “Could you send Caramel to meeting room three?”

‘I’m so Zen,’ you tell yourself as you walk to the kitchen, giving Dasha and Carmen a few minutes. If you’re going to meet him, it’s going to be on your terms, you decide standing by the fridge. Or, hiding by the fridge?

Wearing a summery yet elegant dress, heeled clogs, and your hair up, you look nothing like you ever did at The Bear. You’re pleased to discover, just before opening the door to meeting room three, that the tight feeling in your stomach isn’t just nerves—it’s also a bit of excitement and confidence.

The frosted glass door closes behind you, and you watch as Carmen’s eyes land on you. He’s already seated in one of the uncomfortable white plastic chairs, and now he’s looking at you. His gaze drops to your legs, where the frilled hem of your dress stops just above your knees, then to the mug you’re still holding, though it’s empty.

“Hey,” he greets you, shifting as if he might stand up. You sit across from him, setting the mug on the table.

“Hi,” you reply, curious about what he’s going to say. You’re fairly sure he’s here to apologize, probably sent by Natalie and Sydney—maybe even Richie—to make things right. You had texted Natalie to say you needed to focus on your "real" job as an excuse to avoid going back to the restaurant. Now, you wish you had told her the truth.

“I brought you something,” Carmen says, awkwardly pulling out a paper bag. “Thought you might be hungry.” He hesitates, then adds, “It’s smoked mozzarella mezzelune.” When you don’t make a move to take it, he places the bag back in his lap.

Leaning back in your chair, you fight the urge to cross your arms. You probably feel as out of place as he does right now—but you’re not about to let him see that.

“We didn’t have to meet here,” he says, glancing nervously around the room. “I just wanted to bring the food.”

You blink a few times, wanting to make him even more uncomfortable. “You could’ve left it at reception,” you say calmly.

Carmen rubs a hand over his face and purses his lips. “About before—the recipe. It was all bullshit.”

You grimace. That doesn’t sound like an apology. You're starting to lose faith that Carmen is even capable of one. Disappointed and at a loss for words, you scoff, and Carmen’s eyes dart back to yours. He looks almost offended, which really pisses you off.

“Bullshit,” you repeat, your voice steady. “I’m not interested in this, Carmen,” you say, meeting his gaze without wavering. “Go to hell with your food.”

He looks down, fidgeting with the paper bag. “I’m terrible at this.”

“Terrible at what? Apologizing? Well, it’s past time you learned.”

The urge to shout at him is strong. You want him to feel as humiliated as you did. But you won’t. He spent his whole life in an environment where people yelled for different reasons—or no reason at all. That’s not your style.

Not expecting anything else from him, you push your chair back, the screeching noise cutting through the tense moment, sending a shiver down your spine.

When Carmen suddenly stands as well, his chair scraping even louder, your heart jumps. You gasp, nearly sick from the fright.

“I—I also came to tell you that I’ll do it,” he stammers. “I’ll do the interview.”

You study him for a moment. Is he serious?

“This isn’t what I want, Carmen,” you say, shaking your head and rubbing your wrist. “Why now?”

“I talked to Syd and the crew. It’s the right thing to do. Right for the restaurant.”

He’s sincere, as far as you can tell. His eyes look huge, and that tortured artist look is back. A martyr. How much does he enjoy playing that role?

“Please, don’t ruin my Zen,” you say quietly, not wanting to return to how you felt a few days ago.

“I’m not interested anymore,” you add, praying Rob won’t find out and fire you. “Dasha will see you out. Or you can take the elevator.” The condescension in your voice is clear, but you’re not sure if Carmen even notices.

—

For the next two days, you decide to work from home and mope. Calling Becky isn’t an option because she would probably go talk to Natalie and tell her everything. The feelings of anger and humiliation are mixing within you, and you don’t know which one makes you more miserable.

When you get back to work, Rob calls you over to his office. Shit, you think.

You walk in with a smile and confidence—fake it till you make it. The usual clutter of papers and magazines is still there, but Rob himself seems unusually animated, almost buzzing with excitement. He waves you in, barely able to contain a grin. “Take a seat,” he says, his tone a little too eager.

You sit down cautiously, trying to gauge what's coming. Rob leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk, and you can see he’s practically bursting to share something. “So, I got a call this morning,” he starts, and you immediately feel a sense of dread creeping in. “It was from Natalie, the manager over at The Bear.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you force yourself to stay composed. You nod, prompting him to continue. “She told me that Carmen Berzatto—yes, that Carmen—wants to do the interview and a photoshoot,” Rob says.

“A—a photoshoot?” you stammer. “Is this the same Carmen Berzatto?” God, you couldn’t imagine Carmen wanting to be a center of attention like that. He would probably die right on the spot.

Rob ignores your snarky remark—as he often does—leaning even closer, his excitement palpable. “And get this—he specifically requested that you be the one to do it.”

He pauses, waiting for your reaction, clearly expecting you to share in his enthusiasm. But all you feel is a mix of shock and apprehension. “Rob, I—” you start, but he cuts you off, too caught up in the moment.

“I mean, this is huge!” he exclaims, practically bouncing in his chair. “The Bear is blowing up, and an exclusive like this could improve all the important numbers for us. And he wants you—he’s insisting on it! Do you have any idea how big this could be for your career?”

You do, of course. An exclusive interview with Carmen could put you on the map in a major way. But all you can think about is that last encounter in the meeting room, the awkwardness, the unresolved tension, and the anger laced in bitterness you thought you had finally let go of. Rob notices your hesitation and softens his tone, though his excitement is still simmering beneath the surface. “Look, I know there’s some history here,” he says, a bit more gently. “But this is a massive opportunity. And honestly, if Carmen wants you specifically, there’s something there. He’s not the type to just pick someone randomly, right?”

You shake your head and swallow hard, your mind racing. The offer is tempting, the kind of opportunity that doesn’t come around often. But it also means facing Carmen again, reopening wounds you thought were starting to heal but ignoring the issue—the healthy way, you think bitterly. But also, you would need to contact Nat and Sydney again about your place in The Bear, which you’ve been putting on hold for a long time now, in internet terms.

Rob senses your inner turmoil and leans back, giving you some space. “I’m not going to pressure you, but I really think you should consider it. We could make this the cover story. It’s that big.”

The room is silent for a moment as Rob waits for your response, his eagerness practically vibrating off him. You’re absolutely sure that if you don’t agree to this project, Rob will ask another editor, or even hire a freelancer. As much as you want to be offended a bit longer, letting it simmer inside you, you also want to do this with The Bear staff. As Natalie must know—this is all her doing, after all, you suppose—the visibility for the restaurant is going to be huge.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Then, you make your decision. “I’ll do it,” you say, your voice firmer than you expected.

Rob’s face lights up instantly. “That’s what I’m talking about!” he exclaims, practically beaming. “I knew you’d come through. This is going to be incredible, I can feel it.”

His enthusiasm reassures you, and for a brief moment, you let yourself feel excited, too.

Rob starts rattling off details, already planning how to make this the magazine’s biggest feature yet. “We’ll do a full spread—interview, photoshoot, the works. We can even tie it into some of the broader trends in the culinary world. This could be huge!”

You nod, letting his words wash over you, but part of your mind is still focused on the impending meeting with Carmen. You pretty much sent him to hell. How will you handle this?

“Let’s get the ball rolling,” Rob says, snapping you back to the present. “I’ll coordinate with Natalie to set up the interview. We’ll get the photographer involved, and I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

“Thanks, Rob,” you say, managing a small smile, not mentioning that you will get in touch with Natalie too. “I’ll make sure it’s worth the hype.”

“I have no doubt,” Rob replies confidently. “This is going to be something special.”

As you walk out of his office, the reality of what you just agreed to starts to settle in. You’re going to see Carmen again, face to face, in a setting that’s as personal as it is professional. It’s also a chance to prove to yourself that you can handle it—and maybe even come out stronger on the other side.

The nerves are still there, but so is a newfound resolve. This is your story to tell, and you’re ready to own it.

---

Naturally, you had to tone down your emotions in Rob’s office, as he didn’t know anything about your work you had done for The Bear or the situation with the chef himself. The need to show off your professional skills, both to Rob and Carmen, won. Natalie nearly pisses herself—her words, not yours!—when you confirm the news over the phone. She shares with you that it actually was Carmen’s idea to do the interview, supported by Sydney and Richie and Tina and everyone. The shoot not so much, but he’s gonna do it too, she says, and you can hear the mischievous smile in her voice.

The photoshoot is set to happen in a studio your magazine usually uses for smaller productions, as it’s only Carmen you need to get. Rob informed you that he had sent a photographer to The Bear earlier, so the photos from the place, as well as photos of the team, are already done. You know this from Natalie and Sydney already, who thanked you probably more than a million times for “arranging this,” but in front of Rob, you play guileless.

It’s awfully quiet in the room when you enter, the swinging door swooshing quietly behind you. No wonder. The shoot had to be planned on Sunday—the only day Carmen’s not at work, which has been met with not very enthusiastic responses. There’s no music playing, which is very unusual.

The studio has high ceilings and large windows that let in natural light. It obviously used to be a factory, now rebuilt into a fancy, modern building with that historic edge. You’ve been here a couple of times before.

You spot the photographer, Elena, adjusting her equipment with the precision of someone who knows exactly what she’s doing. She smiles at you and you give each other a quick hug. With a shoot this small, there’s no one doing production, as you’re using the magazine’s regular talents. As much as you want to stall, you know that Carmen must be sitting on the make-up chair, very probably freaking out. It’s a bit unpleasant, but the fact that he’s more uncomfortable than you here makes you feel better, helps you calm your nerves down. The situation is similar to the one in the office a few weeks back, and you realize it’s more your confidence than maliciousness.

Your steps echo as you walk around the corner to the make-up and hair spot by one of the big windows. Carmen’s just getting up from the high chair, his posture screaming uneasiness.

“Hi Margot,” you say to the make-up artist with a piercing in her eyebrow. She’s younger than you, so you get why she thinks that the 00’s are so cool, since that’s probably when she was born.

Then the spotlight is on Carmen and you, and it takes you both to the moment when you approached him outside of The Bear months ago.

Carmen stares at you without blinking, probably relieved to see a familiar face, and also terrified, because it’s you. It’s crystal clear he doesn’t know what is appropriate for him to do in this setting.

Deciding quickly, you move towards him, giving him a similar hug as to Elena—quick, light, and impersonal. When you feel his palm press against your lower back fleetingly, the touch immediately makes you shiver, unfortunately not completely in a bad way, but you don’t have the time to ponder.

“I’ve just fixed his hair a bit and covered some bits here and there,” Margot explains, already cleaning her brushes. You notice immediately that Carmen’s curls are more defined and softer looking. He also appears less tired, but that’s surely due to Margo’s concealer magic.

“Thank you, Margo, that’s perfect,” you say as Carmen stands unmoving.

“Carmen just needs to moisturize more,” she adds cheekily, giving Carmen a wink over her shoulder.

You suppress a laugh. You’re absolutely sure Carmen has no idea what moisturizing or face cream means. He’s as lost here as you had been in the Bear's kitchen.

“Uhm—” Carmen makes an unsure noise, his hand reaching up to his hair, but Margo interrupts him:

“No touching!” she says hurriedly. “Not until the end of the shoot.”

You laugh for real now.

“How is it looking, guys?” Elena calls from the other side of the studio, checking on you.

“We’re fine. Carmen’s about to get changed, so you can get ready, El.”

You turn back to Carmen, who’s checking the studio with a mix of hesitance and curiosity. He’s dressed in light blue denim—unusual—and a gray jumper you’ve seen on him before.

“I’ll help,” you assure him. As the stylist is absent, you promised Rob that you would give a hand on the shoot. Besides, some selected garments are meant to be ready, plus you know they had asked Carmen to bring some of his stuff. “Follow me.”

Disappearing behind a screen that creates a changing space with clothes and steamers, you come properly face to face.

“Hey,” you say, unable to think of anything better. Your voice remains steady despite the slight flutter in your chest.

“Hey,” he replies, offering a small, almost uncertain smile. He glances around, taking in the unfamiliar setting. “This is… different.”

“Yeah,” you agree, gesturing to the setup around you. “But it’s all about making you look good.”

Carmen chuckles softly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “No pressure, right?”

You smile, unable to play the Ice Queen anymore, and for a moment, the awkwardness between you dissipates. “Let’s get started.”

Carmen glances at you, seemingly reassured by your calm demeanor, even if he’s out of his element. You walk over to the clothes neatly hung on a rack. Immediately, you spot the cool embroidered Bode jackets, simple Carhartt pieces, more tailored Ami Paris clothes. There’s Maharishi and PAM too, probably included by the stylist based on your comment that Carmen likes the workwear style, though they are a bit too colorful.

You tell Carmen a little about every brand, trying to get him out of his head and focus on something else. To give him a taste of the world of magazines, media, and fashion. Similar to what he had done for you in the restaurant—when he was in a mood to talk about his dishes, ideas about combining ingredients, and crafting new flavors.

“What about this?” you suggest, handing him a soft, tan brown Carhartt WIP suede jacket. You know that Carmy knows Carhartt because you’ve seen him in their clothes, and you also know that he’s a big denim head. This garment will also help him not to feel as exposed in front of the camera at the start.

Carmen takes the jacket, his brow furrowing slightly as if he’s analyzing every stitch. He slips it on, and you can’t help but note how well it fits him. Natalie nailed the sizes of his clothes perfectly.

You go wait for him at the spot that Elena has set up, Margo already waiting there too, in case any adjustments to the hair are needed during the shoot. When Carmen finally walks over, Elena gives him a reassuring nod as he takes his place in front of the camera, hands in the jacket’s pockets. You watch from the sidelines, a little amused but mostly impressed at how the whole scene has come together. The large windows bathe the room in soft, natural light, casting shadows that play off the industrial vibe of the studio.

Carmen is nervous—anyone can see that—but he stands tall, doing his best to follow Elena’s quiet directions. You watch the laptop screen from the corner of your eye, where all photos appear after Elena presses the shutter, frame after frame. Carmen’s unease is apparent, and for a second you wonder if this really was such a good idea after all.

After another five painful minutes, it’s clear that it’s not getting better. You share a quick look with Elena and say, “Could you put some music on, girls?” Then, turning to Carmen, you add, “I think we can change the outfit now,” you say easily.

You go back to the styling corner, Carmen following you. When you’re both hidden again, you glance at Carmen whose whole body is stiff, discomfort oozing off him.

“This is really not so bad,” you start, but Carmen shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that would drive Margo mad if she saw it.

“I’m a chef, not… this,” he says, gesturing to the setting. “I’m not supposed to be in front of cameras, doing interviews, pretending like—like I fucking know what I’m doing. This is all bullshit.”

You take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to reach him. You’ve seen him under pressure before, but this is different. This isn’t about the restaurant; this is about him feeling out of place, exposed.

“Carmen, you’re right. You’re a chef, and a damn good one,” you say, keeping your tone calm and reassuring. It’s strange to be this way for a person who you’ve only ever seen confident and sure, except for what happened in the office two weeks ago.

“But this is part of it, too,” you carry on, trying to catch Carmen’s eye. “People want to know the person behind the food. They want to see the passion, the creativity. Even the struggle. That’s what makes the Bear special—it’s you.”

He looks at you, eyes filled with doubt. “But what if… what if they see through it? What if they realize I’m just faking it?”

You step closer, close enough to reach out, but you don’t. Instead, you offer him a small, genuine smile. “Then they’ll see that you’re human, just like the rest of us. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be perfect, Carmen.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, trying to steady himself. “I don’t know if I can be that guy.”

“You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,” you reply gently. “And if you’re not feeling it, we can stop. We don’t have to do this. We could just use the pictures from the Bear.”

Carmen opens his eyes and looks at you, something shifting in his expression. It’s still a mix of fear and doubt, but there’s also a flicker of determination. “You really think I can do this?”

“Absolutely,” you confirm with deadly certainty.

The next moment, “1972” by The Smashing Pumpkins starts playing from the speakers in the studio.

Carmen surprises you by taking the initiative and choosing the clothes by himself. You turn when he starts shedding the jacket. Instead, you hang it back on the rack, needing something to do. When the rustling stops, you face the chef again. He’s wearing a pair of vintage Levi’s and a striped sailor crew neck. He looks good in the dark colors.

“Yeah?” he checks, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Yeah,” you nod, hoping it’s not obvious how much you like what you’re seeing. “Yeah.”

Gathering your courage, you reach to roll the sleeves up, exposing Carmen’s forearms, then move up to straighten the seams on his shoulders. You catch his gaze and this time, there’s a flicker of something—perhaps gratitude, or just recognition that you’re both navigating unfamiliar territory. Not just here, on the set, but also between you. You’re discovering another layer of your relationship, perhaps sensing that at this moment, you have the upper hand.

Carmen's expression softens from that tight apprehension to something more open, more trusting. “Thanks,” he says quietly, then looks down at himself, as if trying to imagine how he’ll appear in front of the camera now.

You step back slightly, giving him space, but also giving yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. The tension between you feels different than before, less about awkwardness and more like a mutual acknowledgment that neither of you has the playbook for this. And yet, you’re figuring it out together.

“Here,” you point Carmen to a big mirror in the corner, and he checks the reflection.

“I think I like it,” he says after a moment, and you give him a thumbs up, the silly gesture completely honest.

Back on set, with the music playing, the atmosphere lightens. Carmen doesn’t smile, but there’s a shift in the way he carries himself. He seems more settled in his skin, the dark colors enhancing his quiet confidence. Elena notices the difference immediately; she barely needs to give direction this time. He’s still far from relaxed, but there’s an authenticity in the way he stands, his gaze steady.

The photos start to reflect that subtle transformation, and you feel a tremendous sense of relief as you watch them pop up on the screen. Watching him, you feel an odd sense of pride. This isn’t just about Carmen being in front of the camera; it’s about him facing something that makes him uncomfortable and pushing through it, allowing himself to be vulnerable in this position. If you’re completely honest, you’re surprised that he’s willing to go through with this.

Elena seems pleased, giving Carmen a reassuring nod after every few clicks of the camera. When she finally steps back and lowers her lens, you see Carmen visibly exhale, tension easing from his frame.

“That was good,” Elena praises, glancing at the screen. “We’ve got some solid shots here.”

Carmen looks over, seemingly a little surprised, like he wasn’t quite sure it had gone as well as she said. “See?” you say, nudging him gently. “You nailed it.”

Carmen gives you a small, genuine smile this time. “Maybe,” he says, scratching the back of his head, messing up his styled hair.

After the third outfit change, Rob shows up, as planned, alongside the magazine’s publisher. As this had been arranged before the shoot, you hope it doesn’t throw Carmen off balance too much.

Luckily, Carmen slips into his professional chef mode as Rob greets him, calling him “Chef,” and thanking him sincerely for the opportunity. Rob shoots you a happy grin over Carmen’s shoulder. 

The final outfit is dark gray tailored wool pants and a simple white tee, similar to what you know as Carmen’s daily uniform—probably why he chose it. You suggest adding a nice leather belt with a silver clasp to complete the look. Elena positions Carmen on a high stool this time, changing angles and perspectives.

For the first time today, Carmen looks truly at ease, despite the additional onlookers. You know Rob is looking for the perfect shot for next month’s cover.

Elena captures a few more shots before lowering her camera. “That’s it! We’re done,” she announces, a smile of satisfaction on her face. “Carmen, you did amazing.”

Carmen slides off the stool, his shoulders visibly relaxing as the weight of the shoot lifts. He looks over at you, a small, almost sheepish grin playing at his lips. “That wasn’t as bad as I thought.”

You laugh softly, walking over to him. “Told you. You nailed it.”

Rob joins you and Carmen. “Chef, you were great today,” he says, clapping Carmen on the shoulder. “Can’t wait to see the final shots.”

Carmen nods, clearly more comfortable now that the shoot is over. “Thanks, Rob. I appreciate it.”

Rob turns to you with a grin. “You too. Thanks for making this happen.”

You nod, feeling a bit of pride at how smoothly things turned out. You’re careful not to jinx it—after all, the interview is still looming in the second half of the day, after you’ve had something to eat.

For the interview, you and Carmen sit down in a corner of the studio that’s been set up to look more intimate—two chairs facing each other with a small table in between. Your notebook rests on your lap. Elena is supposed to take a few shots of the formal interview, and now it’s your turn to be nervous. Very nervous.

You did an extensive amount of research and preparation for the article, keeping in mind your personal history with Carmen. He’s not just another personality you’re interviewing. He’s a guy you once knew. A chef at whose restaurant you had worked, or volunteered. These facts leave you feeling like you’re balancing on a thin rope, and you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how to approach the interview. In the end, you decide to let Carmen set the tone. He could keep it personal or strictly professional.

“How did you enjoy the shoot?” you ask with a mischievous smile, starting off lightly. You don’t need to check your notes for that.

Carmen smiles, rubbing his lips with his fingers. “It was a new, interesting experience. I’m afraid I wasn’t very good, but I hope you’ll be able to find a couple of decent images.”

“And one excellent for the cover,” you add, careful not to interrupt him.

Out of habit and nervousness, you adjust the recorder on the table between you, making sure it’s on. Then you glance at your notes.

“When we met in Copenhagen ten years ago, you were staging at Noma. How do you look back on those times—when you were at the beginning of your journey but already experiencing the kitchens of the world’s best restaurants?”

It takes a moment before Carmen responds. “I was very young and very lucky. I took every opportunity that came my way, worked hard—harder than most—to learn and grow, and hopefully to stand out.” Carmen’s words are measured, careful. “Noma was my first experience outside the US, and it was intimidating. But also—it’s an incredibly peaceful and inspiring place. I loved every moment there. It also helped that I knew someone familiar in Copenhagen. That definitely made me feel less alone.”

You catch yourself staring, a warm feeling spreading through your chest—liquid heat filling every corner. You imagine this is what drinking Felix Felicis must feel like. You smile, and Carmen returns it with a quick smile of his own.

Clearing your throat, you prepare for the real questions, the ones that have to live up to everyone’s expectations—Rob’s, Carmen’s, and mostly your own. As the interview progresses, you feel a shift in the atmosphere. The initial tension has faded, replaced by a sense of collaboration. You’re both here for the same reason: to tell a story that matters.

You ask Carmen about his journey in the culinary world, the chefs he’s worked with, and the chefs he looks up to. You discuss diligence, innovation, and respect. You briefly touch on the topic of Michael and Carmen’s family, letting him decide how much he wants to share.

“You can be more or less fortunate with the starting position you get in life. That’s out of your hands. But the rest is in your hands. There’s no point in thinking about how others might have it easier—it will only paralyze you, trust me. You have to focus on what you can do, what you can change. Take the little you have and turn it into everything you have. Be proud of it. Stand up for yourself. Value yourself, but also others.”

His words are thoughtful, and you can tell he’s reflecting deeply.

There’s a pause, and you realize he’s waiting for your next question. You nod, acknowledging the weight of his words. Carmen answered everything with a mix of humility and passion, offering you—and the audience—glimpses of the person behind the chef: the struggles, the doubts, the relentless drive to succeed.

You glance at your notes, then back at him.

“That’s it. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to share a glimpse of your life and The Bear’s story with Taste readers,” you say, finishing with a cheeky smirk, hoping Carmen knows you’re sincere.

Carmen chuckles at your tone. “Thank you for having me,” he replies, smiling with that familiar mix of modesty and quiet strength. “It was a pleasure to talk. Hopefully, your readers won’t be too bored.”

You laugh lightly, shaking your head. “I doubt that. If anything, they’ll be more intrigued than ever. You’ve got a story people want to hear—and not just about the food.”

He raises an eyebrow, studying you. "Well, that’s good to hear."

You stand up and reach out to shake his hand, a gesture of thanks and closure. He takes it, his grip firm but gentle. Then Rob approaches with more handshakes and thanks, joined by Mrs. Sullivan—the publisher. You quietly slip away, not wanting to disturb their networking, and head over to thank Elena and Margot, who have already packed up their gear while you were interviewing Carmen.

“You guys are cute together,” Margot teases, winking at you. “I didn’t know you actually knew him knew him.”

You absolutely do blush, and Elena adds, “Totally,” giving you a sly grin. “He IS cute.”

“You should see him in the kitchen,” you grumble, shoving your notebook into your tote bag to hide your flushed face.

Suddenly, Carmen appears next to you, having parted ways with Rob and Mrs. Sullivan, who likely have better things to do on a Sunday. “You did good,” he says quietly, almost as an afterthought, as if offering reassurance you didn’t know you needed.

Your chest warms again with that liquid heat, a mix of pride and gratitude blooming. You offer him one last, genuine smile.

“Thanks, Carmen,” you reply softly.

“Actually,” he begins, looking nervous again, hands on his hips, “I—I wanted to talk to you. If you have time now?”

He glances back at Rob, but the man is nowhere to be seen, already gone. Carmen nods, seeming relieved.

“Lead the way.”

—

The weather’s been sweltering lately, the sun heating up the city’s concrete walls, asphalt roads, and stone pavements until it feels like being in a big kiln. Luckily, the coffee shop has air conditioning, which both Carmen and you welcome. They are offering unusual caffeine drinks—most of them including something fruity and milky. Carmen orders a Coke with ice without checking the menu, and you go for an iced blueberry matcha latte.  

“Thank you for—” Carmen says when he’s seated properly, across from you once again.  

“Really, that’s enough of the thanks,” you wave him off, but Carmen talks over you, “For respecting that I wanna keep some things private. During the interview.”  

“Ah,” you nod slowly. “You know, normally I would send all the questions for authorization first,” you tell him truthfully, stirring your drink with the thin paper straw, mixing the green matcha with the milk froth and the purple syrup. “I wanted to be a bit nasty.”  

It’s Carmen’s turn to slowly nod, once. “I see,” he says. “I’m not surprised, honestly.”  

You fiddle with the collar of your cotton blouse nervously.  

“I appreciate that you had my back today,” Carmen continues. “It means a lot to me, you know?”

Not used to hearing kind words from Carmen, you find it hard to look at him directly, so you keep staring into your drink instead. “I think I do.”

As if sensing your hesitation, Carmen gives you a second before he asks:

“So, you have a thing for clothes, huh? Fashion, I mean.”

“As you do,” you shoot back playfully but honestly.

“I guess I enjoy the aesthetic aspect of it… I really liked some of the clothes today. It was nice to try something new. I’m not very good at new things,” he muses. “I liked the dress you wore in your office the other day. You looked—different,” Carmen adds uncertainly, playing with the napkin under the sweaty glass.

“I don’t wear dresses very often,” you stammer out, trying to hide the flush creeping up your neck. “And in the restaurant, I wanted to be in something that can get dirty. So… not too fancy clothes.”

Carmen notices how caught off guard you are right now.

“I wanted to bring up the topic of what happened at your work,” he explains slowly, hesitantly. “And what happened at The Bear before that… A lot of the aggression comes from my own frustration. And I shouldn’t take it out on other people. Like I said, there’s no excuse for it.”

You squirm in your seat, nervous to talk about the topic out loud for the first time. “It’s hard, Carm. First, you pretend you don’t know me. Then you barely talk to me. Then I feel like we’re actually starting to get along well, but you accuse me of this huge nonsense. All the while, I’m only trying to help you.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“Because I don’t know how to respond to kindness.”

Your eyes fill up with tears, and you have to blink a couple of times to chase them away. You take a deep breath, your chest expanding with it. Carmen’s sitting still on the stool, looking like a schoolboy who had misbehaved during recess.

“Be kind to kind,” you say simply, spreading your hands, your eyebrows raising.

Carmen chuckles, sounding very self-deprecating, scratching his nose. “I’m working on it.”

He might think you’ll let it slide. You won’t. “Promise,” you press, urgent. “Promise me.”

His eyes meet yours, and he says it. “I promise.” Then once more, in a stronger voice: “I promise. And I’m sorry.” And your heart breaks for him because you know he’s never known much kindness.

“Deal.” To keep your hands occupied, you take out your chewing gum, wrapping it in an empty sugar packet. Then you raise your iced latte in a mock toast, taking a first sip of the drink.

“Just... be careful with the 'nasty' part,” Carmen says with a slight grin, breaking the tension. “I don’t think either of us needs more of that.”  

You chuckle. “Fair enough. I’ll try to keep the nastiness in check.”  

Carmen smirks, shaking his head as he relaxes back into his chair. “I appreciate that.”