#laughing at your past enjoying your time with the team and trying not to risk it and showing your skills and knowledge

[thoughtfulfiction]

Operation: Den Prep

Author’s note: I feel like Joe is very dramatic about things he can’t control and impending parenthood is definitely chaotic. Hope you enjoy this fluffy piece!

All you wanted to do was take a nap. You weren't asking for much. Just an hour, maybe an hour and a half of uninterrupted sleep.

But no. That would be too easy.

The cars that lined the driveway couldn't be a sign of anything good. Joe wasn't really one to throw parties, and with exactly four weeks before the baby's due date he wasn't exactly the most chill or relaxed man in America. If anything, the cars were a sign that you wouldn't be getting that nap in any time soon.

A gigantic sigh leaves your body when you walk in the door. There are people—strangers— in your home, scrubbing every square inch of the place.

"Joe?" You call out, attempting to scoot past the people dusting the vents.

"He's upstairs in his office," a woman responds kindly, in the midst of scrubbing baseboards. Your friend Nikki, who was with you all day, stares at everyone in shock before helping you up the stairs.

You caught your breath a little while running your hand over your baby bump, feeling like you climbed Everest. Nikki knocks on the door and waits for Joe's voice, telling you two to come in. Your husband was seated at his desk, highlighting sections of The Expectant Father: The Ultimate Guide for Dads-to-Be, surrounded by several other parenting books.

"Joseph..." Nikki begins since you still can't breathe. “What the hell is going on here?"

"Language," Joe says without looking up from his book, "he can hear you."

Nikki turns to look at you and you shake your head, not wanting to get in the middle of it right now. Your eyes were telling her to just focus on one problem at a time, the biggest issue at hand being the cleaning crew taking over the house. She seems to agree. "Okay, let me try that again," he nods, finally looking up, a disinterested look on his face. “Don't know if you know this but, there are people downstairs treating your home like it's a warzone on germs."

"I know. I hired them to do exactly that. Because it is." He says in a matter of fact tone. “I want everything to be perfect when the baby comes home. The house needs to be as clean as possible so he has a safe environment.”

“Joe, this isn’t prepping for the end of days. You realize babies don’t come out demanding hospital-grade cleanliness, right?” Nikki jokes, leaning against the doorframe.

Joe doesn't find it funny. “Do you even know how many germs are in the average house? I read it’s millions. Millions, Nicole. I’m not risking it.”

You sigh, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He was adorable when he got like this—focused, determined, and completely over the top. It was endearing, but you could already tell you'd have to reel him in before he booked a hazmat team to inspect the nursery. “Joe, I appreciate what you’re doing. I really do. But we’re supposed to be relaxing these last few weeks, not running ourselves into the ground.”

“You’re the one who should be relaxing,” Joe said, standing and gently guiding you to sit in his chair. “You’re growing a human being. That’s a full-time job. I can handle everything else.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Joe, I don’t need you to handle everything. We’re a team, remember? And besides, I don’t want you burning yourself out before he even gets here.”

“I’m fine,” Joe insisted, his tone firm but caring. "I promise. I just...want everything to be right for him. He’s going to depend on us for everything, you know?”

Nikki sat down on the couch in the corner of the office, still grinning. “I’m not gonna lie, this is kind of impressive. Most dads just install the car seat and call it a day. But you? You’re basically turning this place into a baby-friendly, germ-free utopia."

Joe shot her a look but didn’t argue as you let out a yawn. "Are you tired?" He rushes out, "they should be done in our room, you can go take a nap if you need it. I was serious about you getting some rest."

"And so was I about you getting some rest. We won't be sleeping as much when he gets here so getting a head start on sleepless nights isn't the wisest business decision."

"Okay," Joe folds the corner of the page that he's on and stands up, kissing you on the side of the head. "What if...we kick Nikki and the cleaners out and we go take a nap?"

"Um hello?" Nikki waves her hand in the air, "still here, in the room, with both of you. I can hear everything you're saying."

Joe doesn’t bother acknowledging her, his eyes focused on you as you nod with a laugh. “I love you, Nik, but he’s right. I need to lie down before I collapse.”

Nikki smirks, standing and brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. “You’re so lucky you’re carrying my baby, Y/N. Go take your little nap, I’ll see myself out.” She pokes Joe in the chest as she passes. “Joe, co-parenting with you is going to suck, but I gotta admit—you’re going to be a killer dad. You just don’t need to stress yourself into a heart attack to prove it.”

Joe rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "For the last time, it's OUR baby. Not yours. There is no co-parenting."

"Sure," Nikki smiles, patting him on the back, "sure buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night. By the way, good luck kicking out the cleaners. I'm pretty sure one of them is power-washing your oven.”

She’s gone before Joe can reply, leaving you shaking with laughter as he mutters, “I’m changing the locks tomorrow.”

When you woke up from your nap, Joe was gone. You found him downstairs, scrolling through the notes on his iPad, intense focus that you'd really only seen when he was going over film. It was heartwarming to see that he was taking impending fatherhood as seriously as he took his job. In a way, being a dad was like taking on another job. With endless hours, no days off and no pay. But the rewards? They were going to be worth everything.

Sinking into the spot next to him, you leaned your head against his shoulder. “What are you up to?”

"Going over the checklist," he replied, his hand automatically resting on your belly, absentmindedly tracing small circles with his thumb. "We've got a bunch of deliveries coming tomorrow to get the nursery done which will probably take a couple days. Then we need to start getting the fridge stocked and pack our hospital bags. I was also thinking we do a trial run to the birth center."

"A trial run? Why?"

“I need to time it,” he said, his fingers still drumming softly against your bump. “Traffic could be bad, you’ll be in pain, and I’d rather not have to deliver a baby in the car. I mean, I can learn how to, but I’d rather not.”

You couldn’t help but smile as his focus shifted momentarily, his hand now lightly tapping your belly like he was sending a secret code. “Joe, we’ll be fine. We’ll get there when we get there. Not everything is gonna go to plan so let’s not waste time but trying to plan out every detail.”

“I hear you and I get what you’re saying but I’d rather be overprepared than caught off guard,” he muttered, flipping to a new note with his free hand. His other stayed firmly planted on your stomach, as though he could steady the world by keeping a connection to the little life inside. “Oh, and dinner with our parents tomorrow…that’s going to be something.”

"Be nice. They mean well," you reminded him, nudging his arm.

“Sure, but last week my dad said something about bourbon on baby gums helping with teething. I had to pretend to choke so I wouldn’t laugh in his face,” Joe said with a soft laugh of his own. Then, without thinking, he leaned down and whispered against your belly, “Just ignore your grandpa, buddy. We’ll do teething the right way.”

Your heart swelled at the gesture, and you reached out to thread your fingers through his hair. “Joe, you’re already such a good dad, you know that?”

His eyes softened as he looked up at you, his hand still cradling your bump. “I just want to get it right, for him… and for you.”

"You will. And you know how I know?" He shakes his head, his eyes locked in on you, searching for your answer. "Because once you put your mind to something, you don't let anything or anyone stop you."

For a moment, he’s quiet, his gaze softening before he speaks. “You’re gonna be a great mom, you know that?” He reiterates your words, his voice is barely above a whisper as he leans in, sneaking a kiss.

Your laugh is light, but your heart swells as he places his lips on yours one more time. “Kid’s pretty lucky,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as he pulls back. “And he doesn’t even know it yet.”

The rest of the evening is spent ironing out some minor details of Joe's fool proof baby plans.

Your husband is not the handiest person in the world. He's more of a "I'll hire someone who's more qualified" kind of guy. Exhibit A? Full time chef so he doesn't have to cook. Exhibit B? Full time cleaning staff. To be honest, he probably doesn't know how to change a tire. But he also probably has access to triple A and one phone call from Joe Burrow might actually have everyone working that day rushing out to answer the call. With all that being said, you assumed that putting together furniture would not be something he'd be inclined to do. And then a few weeks ago he, Jimmy and your dad spent three hours building a custom Bellini crib. Now that he had a taste of satisfaction in knowing that he put it together with his own hands, he wanted to build everything in the baby's nursery.

Today's project consisted of your dad, Jimmy and Joe putting together a bunch of things that were delivered while you, your mom and Robin sorted through baby clothes and collected freshly washed laundry to place in his closet. Every tiny sock and little hat sent butterflies in your stomach at the thought of your own tiny person wearing these clothes in just a few short weeks. It was both daunting and exciting.

Throughout the day, more people were walking into the house, Ja'Marr came in first since he pretty much lived next door. Sam showed up 30 minutes later, a tool-kit in hand. A few high school friends even drove from Athens to help.

"Guess Joe called in the calvary." Robin says with a laugh, putting the onesies she just pulled out of the dryer in neat stacks to count and fold.

A few hours later, the three of you took a look at the inventory laid out before you. Your son probably had enough clothes to last him through four outfit changes a day for the next few months. You mentally reminded yourself to cut everyone off from buying any more articles of clothing until further notice.

The doorbell rang and Joe magically appeared downstairs to answer it, his Jeff Ruby's catering order had arrived. A few staff members carried in all the food and Joe thanked them on their way out. Before you could even ask, he said "you don't think they're all working for free do you? Had to give them a few incentives." You simply shook your head, a smile forming on your lips as he disappeared upstairs again.

When the guys were finally done, everyone gathered downstairs to eat dinner, casually chatting about life, Ja'Marr giving a recap of his offseason so far and what trips he had planned. Everything was actually normal until your mom spoke up.

"So, who are you guys gonna have in the delivery room with you?"

Joe nudged you under the table with his knee, giving you a look like "here we go."

"Um...we're still finalizing details of the birth plan. I was just thinking me and Joe for now, the less people seeing me at my worst, the better," you joke, trying to keep it light.

"Well what about visitors?" Robin chimes in. “How soon after are we going to be able to meet the little one?"

"We were thinking the next day. Gives us time to settle in, get some sleep and then have you guys meet him," Joe says casually. That seems to satisfy all parties, your parents nod in understanding and you breathe out a sigh of relief that the conversation doesn't go any further.

Pretty soon after dinner, most of the guests are gone and Joe asks if you want to see the nursery. You immediately hold out your arms and let him lift you to your feet, keeping a hand on the small of your back until you reach the room. Before he opens the door he covers your eyes with his other hand. "You ready?"

"Yes," you let out a small laugh, the anticipation eating away at you, "you've been hyping up these packages for weeks let's see what you’ve done."

"Alright," you hear him open the door and he guides you inside by the hand, still keeping your eyes covered. "3...2...1."

Some of the big things had already been put together. The walls had been painted, the closet space was set up, Joe had brought an LED starry-night ceiling projector (on top of the chandelier that was already in the room) and a sleek, modern changing table with a with several gadgets you weren’t ready to mess with. Yes it was too much. No, he wasn't going to return any of it.

Your eyes scanned the room: a plush, white rug that looked too soft to step on without socks, a glider that seemed to have more tech features than your car, and a Dyson purifier glowing faintly in the corner. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of all the hands that had come together to make it perfect. “He’s not even here yet, and he’s already so loved,” you said, your voice catching slightly.

"He definitely is," Joe says happily, knowing he and his team nailed it. "Come on, I'll give you a tour." He gestures toward the window, "blackout curtains. I read that they can help babies and toddlers sleep better. They can also help regulate the temperature and reduce noise. For temperature though, I got a Dyson obviously, it's supposed to be the best.” He walks you over to the next spot. “Over here we have the changing table."

"Does this...have a built in warming pad for wipes?"

"Yeah isn't it great?” He beams, “so his little butt is warm when we change him in the middle of the night."

You let out a soft laugh at how much of a softie he already is for someone he hasn’t met yet. "He's gonna be mad we're changing him either way, warm wipes or not. But I know you’ll be using it so it’s fine.”

He opens the top drawer of the changing table, "I put some miscellaneous stuff in here. All organic. Silk-blend crib sheets, swaddles, and burp cloths that I washed yesterday so they're ready to use. Over here is the feeding station and the mini fridge, which I'm really excited about."

"Why do we need a mini fridge in the nursery?"

"Think about this. I'm on overnight baby duty and you're catching up on sleep. Our baby is sobbing because he's hungry. Instead of making him wait while I go downstairs and grab a bottle, we just have the bottles in here. And then this little compartment on this side is a freezer so we can have milk storage bags in here too since the bottle warmer is right there. And watch this,” Joe said, pressing a button on the bottle warmer. “It’s like a Formula 1 pit stop but for babies. Two minutes tops, and he’s good to go.” You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at his comparison.

"You know what? I'm not mad at it. Keep going."

"Right next to the fridge is the actual feeding station so we've got a couple pillows here next to the chair, burp clothes and then a little table in case whoever is in here needs water or to set something down. White noise machine is over here. You gotta play with the setting there's like 100 sound options and custom settings. The baby monitor is cool too, it has HD video, two-way audio, sleep analytics, the whole nine.” Joe pick up the expensive contraption. “Here, let me show you some of the noise machine settings."

He was too excited for you to decline, so you motioned for him to go ahead. "This one is ocean waves," he said, hitting a button. A soft crash of waves echoed through the room. "And this is rainforest sounds. Oh, and this one—"

"OW!" you yelped, clutching your belly and bending forward slightly.

Joe froze mid-button press, the sound of chirping birds now filling the nursery. "What? What happened? Is it happening?" His voice rose an octave as he practically leapt across the room to you.

You couldn’t help but laugh through the sharp jolt of pain, waving him off with one hand. "Relax, Joe. It’s not labor. It’s uh...lightning crotch."

"Lightning what?" His panicked expression turned to utter confusion, and he blinked at you like you’d just spoken a foreign language.

"It’s this sharp, sudden pain down there," you explained, gesturing vaguely toward your lower half. "Totally normal. Just your kid punching my nerves like one of those UFC fighters you're obsessed with."

Joe stared at you, wide-eyed. "That’s a thing? That’s allowed? Why does no one tell dads about this stuff?"

You shrugged, still giggling as you slowly straightened up. "Welcome to pregnancy. Every day’s a surprise," you reassure him, patting him on the back.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely rattled. "Okay, so let me get this straight. So far, there’s morning sickness, swollen ankles, back pain, weird cravings, and now lightning crotch? What’s next? Spontaneous combustion?"

"Would you calm down?" you teased, reaching for his hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. "It’s not that bad. Just part of the process."

Joe let out a dramatic sigh, muttering, "You’re making a whole person, and I can’t even keep up with the symptoms."

"You’re doing great, babe," you said with a smirk. "Now, are you gonna show me what’s in the next drawer, or should I add 'Joe having a meltdown' to my list of pregnancy side effects?"

That earned a laugh from him, and he shook his head, pulling himself together. "Fine. But I’m looking this lightning crotch thing up later," he said, giving you a playful glare before opening the next drawer.

Joe is going through the various assortment of baby blankets but what catches your eye is the bookcase. You step closer to it, running your fingers over the leather-bound spines. "Are these…first editions of Goodnight Moon and Oh the Places You’ll Go?"

"Collector's editions," Joe corrected with a sheepish shrug. "My mom used to read these to me,” Joe explained, his voice soft. “I figured…maybe I could do the same for him. Only with the fanciest versions, of course.”

"Of course,” you affirm. “You're adorable. This place is...a lot. But it's genuinely perfect Joe, you guys did an amazing job, thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, I should be thanking you. You're making us parents soon."

"I know. Being in here and seeing it finished makes it feel more real. There's gonna be an actual person using this stuff. That's insane."

He grabs your hand and leads you out of the room, "it is insane. And I can't wait. I wonder what he's gonna look like."

"I hope he looks like you, that would be so adorable. Having a tiny version of you would be a dream."

Joe chuckled, a soft, boyish sound that made your heart flutter. "You’re setting the bar pretty high for this kid," he teased, then paused, his expression turning serious for a moment. "But really, no matter what he looks like I know he'll be perfect."

The two of you stood there in the quiet of the hallway, the soft hum of the mini fridge in the nursery the only sound. For a moment, everything felt perfectly still—just the two of you, on the edge of an adventure that would change your lives forever.

You said goodbye to the last of your visitors and you turned around to Joe standing in the middle of the living room holding a notepad and a pen. "Where did you even get that, weren’t you just hugging your mom?"

"I had it on the coffee table. We’re supposed to watch the video for our prenatal class, remember?"

"Right now?" You ask, looking at your phone. It was only 9pm but it felt like at least one in the morning. You felt like Joe with his strict bedtime during the season.

He nods, already reaching for the remote. "I have big plans for us tomorrow so yeah, now is the perfect time."

"Alright, put it on." You relax into him, grabbing your blanket. "You're really gonna take notes?"

"Yeah. This is for educational purposes, I need any helpful tips I can get."

"You're sure you're gonna be able to watch and write things down? I don't want to scare you but, it might be intense."

"Babe, I get chased by grown men who want to take my head off for a living. Intense is my middle name," he places the notebook on the table and ditches the writing utensil, lazily placing his arm around you before starting the video. "You know what? I might not even take notes this time, I'll probably watch it again in my office in a few weeks when we get closer to the due date and take notes then."

You shrug, letting him do his thing. "Whatever you say, babe."

Joe's relaxed posture slowly turned a bit more tense as the video went on, the graphic image of the baby crowning was unfortunately going to be engrained in his memory for a long time. You had to stifle a laugh as his usual cool, calm, and collected demeanor cracked like a fine china plate dropped onto tile.

"Is...is that what we're gonna go through? What you're gonna go through?" His voice was shaky, as though he’d seen a ghost.

"Yup," you emphasized the ‘p’ sound. "That right there is the beauty of childbirth Joseph." You could practically feel his discomfort radiating off him.

"Oh my god." Joe muttered, his eyes wide in disbelief as he tried to mentally recover.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. "You know, it’s not all that bad. It's just...well, it’s a lot. And it’s very messy.”

He blinked at the screen, still not sure how to process what he’d just witnessed. "Right, sure, a lot. Just—" He exhaled dramatically, trying to find words. "I need a drink. I don't even like alcohol. Or we should maybe just call it a night and go to sleep. I need maybe a small...break from the miracle of life."

You chuckled, wrapping yourself up in the blanket and snuggling into his side. "Welcome to parenthood, Joe. Just wait until you're actually in the room. This was just the trailer."

Joe leaned back, a hand on his forehead as he processed the visual overload. "Little man needs to stay in there a little longer. I'm not ready to watch that horror film."

After declaring that the two of you needed a break from baby stuff, you and Joe took it easy the next day, diving into a true crime marathon after he came home from his morning workout. It was the perfect distraction from all the overwhelming baby prep. But today, he was back at it—better than ever.

"Did you know that newborns don’t have kneecaps? They have cartilage where they should be. They don’t get kneecaps until later."

"Wait what?" you ask, clearly confused.

"Yeah, I read it this morning, it's crazy. He isn't gonna have knees for weeks. I could've used that trick in 2020," Joe adds nonchalantly, his tone as casual as ever as he brushes off his knee injury from years ago. The way he brings it up so easily makes you laugh.

"What else did you learn?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.

Joe glances over at you, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "I read that dads who are involved early on in caregiving—like diaper changes and feedings—bond with their babies faster and more strongly. So I’m all in on that."

"Baby?" you ask, tilting your head to the side as you look over at him.

Joe pipes up, looking away from his hospital bag, still gathering his things. "Yeah?"

"You didn't have a choice on that one. You were gonna feed him and change his diapers whether you liked it or not," you laugh and easily catch the t-shirt he tosses at you. It just happened to be your favorite one you liked to steal and it smelled just like him. That was definitely coming with you to the hospital.

You stand up from your spot on the floor, checking everything off your list. You had comfy clothes, fuzzy socks, four outfits (just in case), a phone charger, a portable charger, a water bottle and a robe which you'd never worn before but Joe insisted you bring it because what if this was the one time that you actually needed it. "What's in your bag?"

Joe opened the Nike duffel and let you take a look. "Why do you have your backup iPad in here?" you ask, a little puzzled.

"OTAs start two weeks after he's born. I need to glance through stuff and make sure I'm ready," he explains, glancing at you with a shrug.

You roll your eyes playfully. "Fine, but what are these doing in here?" You pull out his Bose noise-canceling headphones. "Are you gonna tune me out while I'm in labor?"

Joe looks at you with wide eyes, practically dropping the headphones in surprise. "What? No!" He quickly pulls out another pair, a sheepish smile on his face. "I brought some for you too, just in case you want to listen to music and, you know, maybe tune me out a little."

"You're really thinking ahead, huh?" you tease, a grin tugging at your lips.

Joe shrugs, his smile growing. "I try."

You nod, crossing your arms. "I mean, I guess we’ll see if those headphones get a workout during the labor part."

Joe gives you a playful look, his tone still light-hearted but his eyes full of genuine excitement. "I’m just saying, if you need a little escape from my endless rambling during contractions, at least you have options."

"Oh Joey, I love you."

“I love you,” he sighs, pulling you into a tight hug, feeling steady kicks against his stomach. "And I love you too, baby boy. Kid can't stand not having the attention on him," he smiles, his voice soft but filled with affection.

"Taking after his dad already?" you tease, the corners of your mouth lifting into a grin.

Joe pulls back slightly, raising an eyebrow with a mock-serious expression. "Now you know that’s just not true."

You chuckle softly, resting your head against his chest. "I guess we’ll see, huh?"

He lets you go and the two of you go through all three bags one more time before Joe announces the next task. "Are you ready for our hospital trial run?"

"I still think it's ridiculous but if it'll make you feel more comfortable then I'm in."

Joe carries all the bags down the stairs, tossing them by the door and has the stopwatch open on his phone. "Okay, here we go." He presses 'start' and grabs the keys and the bags while you stand in the kitchen, taking a sip of water as you waddle to the car.

"Babe, why are you going so slow? We're on a time crunch here."

"Well if you must know, your son is crushing all of my internal organs and grinding my hip bones together. If I walk too fast I’ll pee. And then you'll have to get me new clothes and I'll have to change. That'd be really bad for your time crunch."

He drops it immediately. "Okay you're right, take your time."

Once he helps you in the car he rushes around to the driver's side and buckles in, opening the garage door and pulling out of the driveway. You're holding the phone, watching his time as he drives carefully but efficiently, weaving through the streets like a man on a mission. "What if there's traffic that day?" You ask.

"Then I'll figure it out. I just need ballpark range how long it'll take us to get there." He checks the stopwatch again, the third time in the last five minutes.

"Joe, you don't have to treat this like you’re at the two-minute warning during the Super Bowl when you’re down one score."

His grip tightens on the steering wheel despite your words, his jaw clenching as he glances at you, "better to be safe than sorry."

You shrug, reclining in your seat to take some pressure off your back.

"You good?" He asks gently, his hand finding its way to your leg. "How’s the baby doing?" Joe asks, glancing at you between turns, a hint of concern in his voice. "Should we pull over so you can stretch?"

"No, I'm fine," you sigh, a smile tugging at your lips as you settle in more comfortably. "I could really go for some ice cream right now though."

"We'll get some on the way home," he laughs, a relieved chuckle escaping him. "Call it a reward for a successful trial run."

He pulls into the parking lot of the birth center with a sigh of relief, glancing at his phone in your hand. "13 minutes, not bad at all," he says with a sense of accomplishment.

"Yeah, that's great," you smile, a playful glint in your eyes. "I want a scoop of rocky road and a scoop of raspberry sorbet. In a bowl."

"Together?" he asks, his eyebrows raised in mock disbelief.

"Yes," you reply, grinning.

Joe pulls out of the parking lot, a proud smile on his face as if he just completed an Olympic event. "Mission accomplished. Ice cream in five minutes."

A week later, Joe was going over a food list with his chef Morgan. "For quick snacks, I was thinking Greek yogurt with granola and fruit, hard-boiled eggs—she'll need the protein. Maybe some string cheese or cheese cubes, peanut butter with apples or bananas. We’ll definitely need to stock up on protein bars," he lists off items, looking through the fridge and cabinets.

"What’s going on in here?" You walk into the kitchen and spot Morgan jotting down every word Joe is saying.

Joe looks up and smiles at you but then pauses for a moment, his eyes tracking your every movement as you waddle over to the counter. He raises an eyebrow. "You alright? You're walking like you just got off a horse."

You roll your eyes playfully but feel a grin spread across your face. "Nice to see you’re paying attention."

"Seriously," Joe says, now focused on you with concern. He steps closer, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders as he watches you shuffle around. "That’s a pretty pronounced waddle. You okay?"

"Yup, just one of the perks of carrying a tiny human in there." You shrug, trying to act casual about it, but it's hard to ignore how much effort it takes to move these days.

Morgan, glancing between the two of you, stifles a laugh. "It’s the baby," he explains with a knowing look. "The weight shifts, and her body’s getting ready for the big day."

Joe doesn’t look entirely convinced. "I don’t know, babe," he says, lightly tapping your belly. "Maybe we need to get you some support or something. You shouldn’t have to waddle all over the place. Like one of those belly belt things to help take the weight off your hips.”

You smirk. "Trust me, I’ve got it covered. But thanks for noticing."

Joe looks at you, giving you a soft smile that says he’s both amused and a little concerned. "Yeah, no problem. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable."

"Thanks, Joe," you tease, giving him a playful nudge before you turn to Morgan, who’s still scribbling on his notepad as Joe turns his away again. "So, what do you have so far?"

Morgan lists off everything he’s written, "Trail mix, chia pudding, pumpkin or sunflower seeds—"

"We never have those in the house," you note, crossing your arms. "Why now?"

"They're high in zinc and other nutrients that support lactation," Joe says simply, not looking up from the fridge.

"That's helpful but I really will probably need fruit, veggie sticks and hummus since you're interesting in me increasing my protein intake, maybe some avocado toast and smoothies too? Keep it simple, Morgan. I’ll also need the lactation cookies I sent you."

"Noted." Morgan says, catching Joe’s shake of his head as you laugh.

"Just get her whatever she wants," Joe sighs, exasperated, but with a fond smile. "I’m actually glad you brought up the cookies, Y/N, because I wanted to run something by you. Both of you, actually."

You sigh, already dreading the conversation, and the chef looks up from his list. "What’s up?"

Joe pulls out a folder from one of the kitchen drawers, showing Morgan the list of the “best” lactation cookie and energy bite recipes he could find.

"Babe," you groan, "I told you that you're overthinking the cookies. They’re just cookies."

“Lactation cookies,” he corrected, already flipping to another recipe. “These are important. They’re, like, your fuel.”

"My apologies your honor," you laugh again, "carry on."

Morgan laughs too and Joe playfully glares at him. "Yeah—yeah, laugh it up guys." He gestures toward the folder, "I highlighted the key ingredients on each recipe.”

The chef raised an eyebrow at the sheer number of recipes. “You want me to make all of these?”

You stand up and take a peak at the extensive list, "you don't have to do that Morgan, just make a few batches of chocolate chip and call it a day," you sense Joe tensing next to you and you rub his back a little, "you're doing that thing again. Where you're freaking out instead of relaxing. You need to relax," you say with a small smile, guiding him back to calm.

You take your eyes off of Joe and focus your attention back on Morgan. "Thank you for never flinching at his insane requests, but if these cookies don’t work out, you can just order some. As long as they have oats, flaxseed, and brewer’s yeast to support milk production, then I should be fine."

Morgan nods, jotting a few more things down before he leaves to head to the grocery store. Joe looks at you, his expression softening. You nod at him, offering a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, you’re not the only one who’s done their research,” you say, nodding your head as his lips twitch into a smile.

"I’m impressed.” He gives you tiny claps, the playful gesture breaking the moment of seriousness. “Speaking of research...I may have one more surprise for you."

"I don't think I can handle anymore surprises," you groan, "can you just tell me what it is?"

"I don't think you know what a surprise is," he laughs rubbing your back, "let me just show you and then I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day."

"That's a lie,” you reply flatly, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Okay, fine. It’s definitely a lie," he admits with a sheepish grin, shrugging like he’s caught red-handed.

Joe takes you to the most unlikely place to reveal a surprise. "Joe...why are we in the bathroom?"

"This is the surprise. Do you see anything different?"

You look around, not sensing anything extremely out of place. Until you see it and tears start pooling in your eyes. "How did you—when did you do this?"

"It's just a little something I put together to make things easier for you when we're home. There's another one in the closet downstairs. I'll move it out so you have easy access when it's time." He pauses, taking a second to collect his thoughts. "I just want to make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be. I know this is going to be tough on you, and I...I want to feel like I’m helping, even if it’s in a small way."

A postpartum station, not the most glamorous gift in the world, but it was one of the most meaningful things he'd ever done for you. Imagining him sitting in his office or sitting up in bed at night doing all this research to ensure you were comfortable made you want to cry. You never thought the sight of adult diapers, nipple cream, and a portable stool could bring you to tears, but here you were, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness behind it all.

Joe gently wipes at a tear that slips down your cheek, his expression softening as he says, ‘hey, don’t cry. I want you to have everything you need. You deserve it."

You blink back the new tears threatening to spill over, shaking your head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe you thought of all this. Thank you, Joe.

"Pretty much," he shrugs, giving you kiss on the side of the head. "Just one more thing to check off the list."

"And what's that?"

"Bringing him home and having him here, physically with us."

You laugh, resting a hand on your lower belly, on top of Joe's hand. "Oh yeah...that one minor detail."

“Minor detail?!” Joe grins, his eyes bright with amusement. “I think that’s the main event, babe. Let’s hope I don’t need a stopwatch for that one.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, grounding you in the moment, “Thank you, Joe. For this…for thinking of everything. If you’re this amazing now, I can’t wait to see you as a dad.”

His expression softens, his gaze dropping to your belly as if imagining the tiny life inside. “I just want to make sure you both have everything you need,” he says quietly. He spoke with such quiet certainty that it left no room for doubt—this wasn’t just a job to him; it was everything.

The lump in your throat returns, but this time you let it linger, because this—his quiet devotion, his unwavering effort—is why you fell in love with him. “You’re already doing it,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “And you’re doing it perfectly.”

Joe smiles, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Good. Now let’s get through the rest of this list before he gets here and turns everything upside down.”

Your laugh echoes through the bathroom, the two of you standing there in the glow of anticipation, knowing your lives were about to change in the most beautiful way.

[onlyforsebastianstan]

Story Masterlist

Last Updated: June 29, 2025

About This Masterlist

✨ Welcome to my masterlist! Here you’ll find all my stories categorized by type and genre. Hope you enjoy reading! 💌

🗂️ Genre Key:

🩶Angst | 🤍Fluff |🔥Smut | 🫂Comfort

📌 One Shots

✦ Fractured Light ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🩶|🤍 ↳ In this emotional slow-burn romance, you, Steve Rogers’ best friend, find yourself homeless and jobless, seeking refuge in the Brooklyn apartment he shares with Bucky Barnes. While Steve welcomes you with open arms, Bucky is wary, his distrust rooted in a painful past tied to a silver ring from the 1940s. ➤ Read here

✦ A Fox Among Heroes (one shot) ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🤍 ↳ When a skilled fighter joins the Avengers, she hides her true identity as a kitsune, a seven-tailed fox spirit with an uncontrollable charm that bewitches men. ➤ Read here There's also a Mini Series for this Story 'coz I really enjoyed the concept of an Asian Mythological Creature with the Avengers (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) [Avengers x Reader] 🤍|🔥 ➤ Masterlist

✦ Fractured Bonds and Fragile Futures ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🩶 ↳ Believing you betrayed him, Bucky vanished, unaware you were pregnant with his daughter, Sophie. Four years later, you’ve built a life alone in Queens, raising Sophie with fierce devotion, but a cruel reunion at a farmer’s market reopens old wounds. ➤ Read here

✦ Better off Without Me ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🩶|🫂 ↳ You, a sharp-tongued Avenger, love Bucky Barnes, but his Winter Soldier past haunts him. When he sees you laughing with Steve Rogers, the “perfect” hero, Bucky’s insecurities flare, believing you deserve better. ➤ Read here

✦ Shadows of the Past ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🩶|🫂 ↳ In the heart of Brooklyn, love brews alongside secrets as you share quiet mornings with Bucky Barnes, the man whose past holds a ghost. Every October, her shadow steals him away, until a devastating discovery at her grave drives you to flee to Boston. A year of longing and regret follows, with Bucky haunted by the realization that losing you cuts deeper than any loss before. ➤ Read here

✦ Betrayal ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🩶|🫂 ↳ When a mission goes sideways, the Avengers are left reeling from what appears to be a devastating betrayal, yours. Believing you've turned on them, the team cuts you off. But the truth is darker than they imagined. And when you came back, bleeding and broken to warn them of the threat coming… they still turned away. ➤ Read here

✦ The New Girl (Angst to Fluff Ver.) ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🩶| 🤍|🫂 ↳ When a solo mission goes disastrously wrong, you return to the SHIELD compound battered and bleeding, only to face the sting of misunderstanding. Consumed by jealousy over Bucky Barnes’ apparent closeness with a new agent, Clara Voss, you’d distanced yourself. Your withdrawal is mistaken for disinterest, and when you’re injured protecting a civilian. As you fight to recover, Bucky’s raw confession of love unravels the truth, paving the way for healing and a promise of no more silence. ➤ Read here

✦ The New Girl (Fluff Ver.) ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🤍 ↳ When new SHIELD agent Clara Voss monopolizes your time, you misinterpret Bucky Barnes' glares as a crush on her, pulling away from your close-knit partnership. Unbeknownst to you, Clara's teasing Bucky about “stealing” you, sparking comedic chaos and heartfelt revelations. A fluffy tale of miscommunication and a sweet, romantic resolution. ➤ Read here

✦ Words that Break ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🤍 | 🩶 ↳ You are a being forged in the stars, bound by a forbidden rule: never love, or risk fading into oblivion. But what happens if you fall for the person who hated you? ➤ Read here

✦ What Can't be Fixed ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] [Cheating!Steve Rogers x Reader] 🤍 | 🩶 ↳ You were in love, pregnant, and trying to hold on to something fragile with Steve Rogers, until betrayal shattered everything. When you discover he’s been unfaithful with a colleague, your confrontation spirals into violence, ending in a tragic loss that leaves you broken and bleeding. Through it all, one person never left your side: Bucky Barnes. Loyal, quiet, and harboring a love he never dared to confess, until Steve’s jealousy brings the truth crashing into the open. In the aftermath of heartbreak, loss, and long-hidden emotions, you must choose what remains when everything else has fallen apart. ➤ Read here

✦ His Sunshine ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🤍 ↳ Bucky Barnes, haunted by his past as the Winter Soldier, faces whispers of judgment wherever he goes. Steve Rogers stands by him with fierce loyalty, while you offer unwavering warmth, filling his silence with your bubbly chatter and and laughter. ➤ Read here

✦ Right Person, Wrong Time ✦ [Steve Rogers x Reader] 🤍 | 🫂 ↳ You’re an Avenger head-over-heels for Bucky Barnes, showering him with affection, gifts, and attention despite his cold rejections and obvious feelings for Natasha Romanoff. His harsh words sting, but you persist, until Steve Rogers steps in with kindness that slowly pulls you out of your heartbreak. ➤ Read here

✦ VANTA ✦ [Winter Soldier x Reader] 🩶 |🫂 ↳ The story follows Y/N, the youngest Avenger, nicknamed "sunshine" for her warmth and positivity, who is secretly battling terminal cancer. Known for her kindness, she’s beloved by the team—Tony, Steve, Natasha, Bruce, Clint, Thor, and Sam—until Lila, a cunning new recruit, frames her as a traitor, leading to her expulsion from the Avengers Compound. ➤ Read here

✦ After The Silence ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] Platonic 🤍|🩶 |🫂 ↳ You, a talkative and vibrant member of the Avengers, and your best friend, Bucky Barnes are inseparable. You talk, he listens. But after Bucky, overwhelmed by his own struggles, harshly snaps at you for being too loud and annoying, his words cut deep, leading you to question your place among the team. Compounded by the team's unaware, joking comments about your talkativeness, you withdraw, becoming silent and communicating only through a notebook. ➤ Read here

📝 Drabble

✦ A Love worth Celebrating ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🤍 ↳ You and Bucky are celebrating your 16th wedding anniversary. ➤ Read here

📚 Series

✦ Until Her Last Breath ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🔥|🩶|🤍 ↳ Set after the events of The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes is a member of the Avengers but carries heavy emotional scars. When Tony introduces a mysterious, immortal woman to the team, one who has loved Bucky since the 1940s, his coldness becomes cruelty. Unbeknownst to him, the woman he mistreats has been silently watching over him for decades. But when Steve Rogers begins to show her the warmth Bucky denied her, the old soldier is forced to confront his own feelings, too late. A mission to rescue her from Hydra turns into a race against time and regret. Read Here ➤ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

✦ "Just a Friend" ✦ [Bucky Barnes x Reader] 🩶|🫂 ↳ In a rain-soaked Brooklyn, a graphic designer falls for Bucky Barnes, a man haunted by his past as the Winter Soldier. Their connection deepens through bookstore afternoons, jazz bar dances, and candlelit nights, but Bucky’s fear of his own darkness keeps him from defining their relationship. When she overhears him dismiss her as “just a friend” to his teammates, her heart breaks, and she pulls away, seeking solace in the uncomplicated warmth of her coworker Matt. As Bucky watches her slip away, his unspoken love and jealousy drive him to confront her, leading to a raw confession of love and a promise to face their fears together. A story of heartbreak, healing, and the courage to choose love despite the shadows of the past. Read Here ➤ Part 1 | Part 2

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for stopping by! 💖

I hope you find something here that speaks to your heart (or breaks it just a little 🥲).

Feel free to reblog, comment, or message me if a story hits you right in the feels, I love hearing from you! 🫶

More stories coming soon, so stay tuned and take care always. Love lots! 💌✨

[astraljedi]

Long Story Short (Tommy Miller)

Summary: After arriving in Jackson, you reunite with Tommy Miller—an old flame you haven't seen in over twenty years. And as you and your daughter try to settle into your new reality, old feelings, regrets and past scars resurface.

Pairing: Single Dad!Tommy Miller x Reader

Warnings: mention of trauma, scars, past abuse (implied), protective!Tommy, past miscommunication.

Word Count: 2.9K

Songs: Long Story Short by Taylor Swift

A/N: Not going to lie, I've had this idea for a while now and I'm currently planning on writing a part 2. Also, do you guys like the custom headers/posters for each fic? Let me know your thoughts and ENJOY! Taglist: @grayandthyme @darkwhisperswolf @umadirectioner -

Long story short, it was a bad time

For months, it was just Lucy and me crossing state lines all alone. Enduring different weather, escaping raiders and surviving the chaos of the end of the world. There were moments where I sat and thought if I made the right decision. FEDRA wasn’t safe, our home wasn’t safe either. But what if it’s even worse out here and I risked her safety for us to end up worse than before?  

The moment Lucy turned fourteen, I started prepping her in secret while her father was away. Sneaking out through the back walls into the woods, not too far but not too close where the guards could hear guns going off. For two years, I managed to teach her how to survive outside FEDRA’s walls with or without me. There was always a high risk of me falling behind, sacrificing myself for her or even if her dad managed to find us. He would kill me and she needed to know how to escape him, even if that meant leaving me behind. 

It took years to work up the courage, and even more guts to finally run one night while her father was out on duty. But for her? I’d do it all over again, a thousand times in a heartbeat. 

I didn’t know what was waiting for us beyond those fences. But I knew I had to take a chance of it being safer than keeping Lucy under the same roof as the man who was supposed to protect us. The man I thought was the kindest soul once, caring and loving. 

By the time we crossed Wyoming, the cold was setting in hard. The winds were picking up and we barely could see anything between the rows of trees. I hoped for the sight of an abandoned cabin, something for us to sit and stand by while the weather eased. I thought maybe we’d hit our end of the road. 

But when those tall gates creaked opened and the patrol team that found us led us inside, It was the first time in months that I could breathe a little easier. 

I keep Lucy close, my arms tucked around her shoulders, trying to share what little warmth we have between the two of us. It was only the beginning of the season, and it was already this bad. I cant imagine how its going to be when a storm comes. 

“We should get them something to eat,” One of the guys who brought us in says. 

“No, they need medical attention first. And some new warmer clothes. God knows how long they’ve been out there almost freezing to death in those thin jackets.” the young woman snaps back at him. They were whispering but I could hear every word clearly. 

My lips tremble as I look around the town. The white snow carpeted the whole town, kids were playing in the snow while other adults walked around the town, drinking whatever warm liquid they were serving out of one of the tall buildings. It was surreal, seeing a town actually living, no FEDRA, no infected in sight. Just normalcy and community. 

I turn to Lucy, her eyes glimmering as she catches sight of a group of laughing teenagers slip out of the bakery with their own drinks in hand. She doesn’t say anything, but the hope in her eyes makes my heart swell.

“Peach?” A low gasp escapes me and my body freezes on the spot. That voice, that same voice that haunted me for years during sleepless nights. For a moment, I think my mind is playing games with me.

The cold finally getting to me. 

But the moment I turn around slowly, my heart at a stop waiting for it to jump out of my chest the moment I wake up from the trance.

The moment my eyes land on his, dark eyes that had gone through hell, but those were still the same brown eyes I fell in love with over twenty years ago back in Texas. 

The memory of those same eyes scanning my exposed skin under the hot summer Texas sun, his rough fingertips trailing up my thighs until they met with the hem of my shorts, tugging them down slowly as his lips feverishly roamed every inch of my body. Leaving me breathless and aching. Hoping the neighbor didn’t pop their head over the fence. 

“Tommy,” I breathe out. 

He was still the man I ran away from, too scared to get my heart broken. Because there was no getting over Tommy Miller, there was no cure for the man who stood in front of me. He looks older, lines at the corner of his eyes, a few new scars across his cheek and forehead.

This version of him, rugged, tougher and broader. At first, he looks like a soldier right after battle, in pain and like he’s seen the worst. But then I catch a glimpse of the version I used to know, soft, caring and tender. 

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t waste any second more and crosses the distance between us in quick strides. His strong arms pull me into his body and I welcome his warmth, the familiar weight of him. 

I bury my face in his chest, my hands clinging to the back of his thick jacket. God, it’s been so long since I’ve felt this safe and at peace in someone’s arms. In the arms of a man who I know wouldn’t dare hurt me, the arms that held me close like I would vanish the second I pull away. 

“I thought you were dead,” He breathes, his face nuzzled so close. His voice trembles, but I could feel the sense of relief and his shoulders relax once he realizes I’m not running away. “Peach, you don’t know how long I looked for you.”

I close my eyes, taking in his new scent of wood, leather and a hint of smokiness. It was different, mature. 

My throat strains and hot tears sting my eyes, the weight of everything almost crumbling down all at once. The weight of every bruise, every cry and scar on my body. Heavy sleepless nights were Lucy was sick and her father was nowhere to be found, probably drunk and fucking someone else while I stayed up with a crying six month old, desperate to get her feeling better. 

“Mom?” Lucy’s voice pulls me out of the trance. Tommy tenses and I pull away from him, already missing his warmth when the harsh wind crashes to me. I quickly wipe away the tears from the corner of my eyes and try to compose myself.

“Sorry,” I mumble, pulling her close. “Tommy, this is my daughter, Lucy.” 

Tommy looks stunned, eyeing me and then at Lucy.

Lucy looks up at me confused, her brows pushed together. Then she looks at Tommy, eyeing him top to bottom. “How do you guys know each other? You never mentioned a Tommy.”

I clear my throat, feeling my cheeks heating up. “We used to be friends, before the outbreak.” 

Tommy scratches the back of his head, nervous with a tint of red on his cheeks. “Nice to meet you, Lucy.” 

Lucy shrugs. “Can we go somewhere warmer? My jacket’s too thin, and I’m starving.” I huff at her, giving her a stern look. 

“What?” She asks, genuinely confused. “You’re only wearing one layer because you gave me the second jacket we had so I wouldn’t get cold. One more second out here and your lips are going to turn blue.” 

Tommy chuckles. He lets patrol know that he's taking over and sends them over to the stables to finish their shift.

“How about we get you both something warm to eat,” He says, gently slipping his arm around my shoulders again, guiding us toward one of the buildings. “And then we can find you better jackets.” 

It’s embarrassing how fast Lucy and I devour the warm, flavorful stew Tommy got us at the dining hall. Hiking across borders doesn’t exactly guarantee hot meals everyday, it doesn’t even guarantee food at all unless you’re lucky or smart enough to make it work. 

“I’m sorry mom,” Lucy mumbles, her mouth still full, “but this is way better than wild rabbit.” 

I roll my eyes playfully, swallowing the last bite. “God forbid a mom tries to make do with what nature gives her to feed her grumpy teenager.” I tease, nudging her shoulder.

“Wait ‘til you try the chocolate cake,” Tommy says, leaning back in the wooden chair across from us, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“You’re kidding. Cake?” Lucy’s eyes light up. “I’ve never had cake before.”

“Stay here. I’ll get you both a slice.” He chuckles, standing up and shaking his head before walking off.

The moment Tommy leaves, Lucy leans in, sipping what’s left of her stew. “Does Dad know him too?”

“No,” I choke out, clearing my throat. “I met Tommy way before your dad, we lived on the same street.” 

Lucy hums, processing my answer. 

Tommy comes back with two slices of chocolate cake in each hand. I force a smile and take the plate, but my stomach twists. Just the mention of her father is enough to ruin my appetite.

“Dad!” a little voice shouts.

My head snaps toward the small voice just in time to see a boy—no more than four—running across the hall and launching himself into Tommy’s lap.

“Benji,” Tommy grunts, smiling as he catches the kid and holds him tight.

A kid. He has a kid and it didn’t even cross my mind that he could be married, let alone have a kid. 

“Where’s your mom, huh?” Tommy asks gently, brushing snow from Benji’s coat.

“Right here,” comes a gorgeous woman in braids, shaking snow off her jacket. Her braids are perfect, not a hair out of place even with the strong winds outside. “He wanted to see you before bedtime,” she says with a soft smile, reaching out to smooth Benji’s hair.

Lucy glances at me, silently asking if I knew about them. I give a small shrug and slide my untouched cake over to her. She accepts it without question, already distracted by the sugary frosting.

“This is Maria,” Tommy says, unreadable. “She basically runs the town—pretty much the reason Jackson’s still standing.” Then, he introduces us, “And this is her daughter, Lucy.”

My Lucy grins and gives a small wave, cheeks puffed out with cake.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Maria says warmly. “I hope Jackson’s been good to you so far. Kat, the girl who brought you in, told me how they found you. I’m glad you’re safe and I hope you’re considering staying.”

Maria wears confidence and kindness proudly. No wonder she’s the glue that keeps this place together.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “We didn’t really know where we were going. I just—I wanted to find somewhere safe. Somewhere Lucy could grow.”

“If you decide to stay,” Maria offers, “there’s a school and they get to help with minor easy chores. Kids get to be kids here.”

“There’s no rush,” Tommy adds, placing Benji gently on the floor. “But there’s a small house that’s been renovated. If you want it—it’s yours. For both of you.”

I glance at Lucy. Her cheeks are rosy, her eyes bright. And she looks like a kid again. Not a survivor, just a girl, full of curiosity, a little mischief and grumpiness.

“I like the sound of that,” I say, looking between Tommy and Maria. “What do I have to do?”

And for the first time in years, there’s a little hope brewing inside of what our lives could be like living here.

For the night, Lucy and I would stay at Tommy’s until he could stop by the next morning bright early to make sure everything was working fine for the both of us. 

Tommy’s house is quiet, warm and every corner smells like him.

I shut the guest bedroom door gently, careful not to wake Lucy. After her shower, she changed and crawled into bed before I could even brush her hair. She was out in seconds—exhausted from months of hiking across states, finally resting on something soft.

I shiver as I head downstairs barefoot. One of Tommy’s neighbors had dropped off clothes for us, and I’m desperate for a comfortable, oversized sweatshirt. Even with the fire crackling in the living room, the tank top and sweatpants aren’t cutting it. Not after the shower either—my skin still flushed pink from the heat, and somehow, I’m still cold.

I crouch in front of the basket and start sifting through it, hoping to find something warm enough to get me through the night. 

I glance up, hearing footsteps. And for a second I think it’s Lucy, but they’re heavier, hesitant. 

Tommy stands in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, a steaming mug in his hands. His eyes land on my shoulder first—on the long, faded scar slicing across my upper arm. Then they catch the newer one at my temple, still tender and pink.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. 

But I see it—the shift in his face. His jaw clenches, the storm, rage and a hint of hurt brewing behind his eyes.

I tug an oversized sweatshirt over my shoulders, my fingers trembling—not from the cold, but from the memories burned into my skin.

Tommy walks in slowly, handing the mug out to me. “Chamomile with a bit of honey.” 

“Thanks.” I take it with both hands, settling down on the couch while letting the warmth spread into my fingers. 

I expect him to sit further across the room, but he sits down right on the edge of the coffee table. Looking straight at me. 

There’s a moment of silence, just us staring at each other while I sip my tea. His eyes trail my body, not sexually, but looking at me like I might break at any moment. And if I do, there’s no doubt he wouldn’t flinch to catch me, to protect me from the darkness in my head.

He’s trying to read me, trying to guess what happened all these years we’ve been apart.

“I looked for you, you know.” He breaks the silence, hands folded between his knees. I stare at him, cowardly pushing my words and feelings down. “Every quarantine zone I passed through, every supply run... I kept hoping I’d find you. Prayed you weren’t taken from me from this world.”

“I was out of state before the outbreak hit.” My voice is low, hiding behind the mug. 

“Why did you leave me?” He asks and he flinches, like the bruise is still fresh, still aching. “What I don’t get is why you left without saying goodbye? Why not talk to me first?”

“Because if I saw you—if I looked into those pleading eyes—I wouldn’t have gone,” I whisper. “And I needed to. I needed to leave before you had the chance to break my heart.”

He kneels down in front of me, his voice rough. “Peach, I was in love with you. So fucking in love with you. How could you not see that?”

I grip the mug tighter, my hands starting to shake. “You said you just wanted sex, Tommy. You never told me differently.”

Tommy chuckles in disbelief. “I did. Peach, I did.”

My brow furrows. “What?”

“That night. I told you I loved you. You were half asleep—I thought you heard me. I was gonna say it again in the morning, but when I woke up, you were gone.”

I blink at him, the air sucked from my lungs. “No. No, I didn’t fall asleep that fast.”

He smirks. “You did. I wore you out, remember?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting a small laugh. I grab the nearest pillow and smack him with it. “Still an ass after all these years?”

He grins, finally sitting beside me on the couch, shoulders loosening.

“So,” I say, looking down at my hands. “You and Maria?”

“Yeah. We were married for a while. Didn’t work out in the end.” He grabs the blanket draped over the back of the couch and tosses it over my shoulders.

“And a kid too.” 

“Benji. He’s the best thing to come out of it. Smart as hell, too.” He chuckles, pride softening his features. “And you have a daughter.”

“Yeah.” I exhale, my eyes drifting towards the stairs. “Funny how different things are now. I was twenty-five when we met. You were thirty-two.”

“Did you ever get married?” he asks, but he doesn’t look at me when he says it.

“No.” I hesitate. “Lucy’s father didn’t believe in marriage.”

“Didn’t?” Tommy glances at me. “Did he pass away?”

“No.” I stare into the fire. But I wish he had. It would mean he couldn’t hurt us anymore. “He’s not in the picture anymore.”

Tommy hand finds mine, sliding it into his calloused hand. “You’re safe here. Whatever demons you left behind, I won’t let them hurt you.” 

I bite down hard, swallowing back the lump on my throat. Instead, I lean into him, tucking my face into his chest. His arms wrap around me instantly, shielding me of my own demons and nightmares. 

I shut my eyes, the tears sting but I don’t let them fall. I don’t let myself break. 

Because for once, even if the weight is still there, I feel safer now in these walls than before. 

Long story short, it was a bad time Long story short, I survived

[sunarots]

bed chem ━━━ iwaizumi hajime

24. freak accident ♡

Though you try to follow Hajime’s position on the rink, you find yourself spending more time actually looking for him. You’ll lose sight of him amongst his teammates until he’s skating towards the goal with the puck.

Sendai is leading by two points and there’s not much time left, so things are looking good for the team — you think. If you’re being honest, everything Akaashi’s been teaching you has gone in one ear and out the other. You called one of the fights a scrimmage, before he pointed out that the game was a scrimmage.

“Are you enjoying it?” Oikawa leans towards you, shouting over the noise of the crowd. “I can’t tell by your face.”

“I am, actually. I do like hockey, but I never had the time to learn anything about it.” You cross one leg over the other and turn to Oikawa, having lost Hajime on the rink again. “It’s violent, but I kind of like it.”

“I like when they slam someone into the glass right in front of me,” he announces, turning his focus back to the game. “Sometimes you can see their nose start bleeding.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Says the guy who acted like he was dying when he dislocated his shoulder.”

“Hey, I also had a broken…” Oikawa turns his focus back to the rink, leaning forward towards the glass. “Oh, shit! Someone’s down!”

“Where!?” You copy his actions, following his gaze over to the crowd on the far side of the rink. “Ouch, what happened?”

Oikawa shrugs his shoulders. “Probably a fake. That happens, sometimes. Mainly when they’re losing.”

“It’s our uniform.” Akaashi hovers above the bench, trying to get a better look. “I think the puck got him. Maybe a stick?”

The crowd separates so the injured player can get past, helmet discarded and a hand covering his face. Bokuto skates beside him (of course you can recognise his striking white hair), scanning the crowd before spotting the three of you.

“It’s Iwa-chan!”

You can feel your heart skip a beat when you realise, instantly jumping to your feet and grabbing your bag from the floor. Not bothering to excuse yourself, you squeeze past the people trying to get a better look at the action so you can reach the gate before them.

“Can you take him to the nurse? We need as many as possible. Let me know how it goes! Wait, no… Never mind!” Bokuto gives you no time to react; he’s already skating back to his team.

As if sensing your worries, Hajime pats your back lightly with his clean hand. “It’s just a little blood, I’ll be fine.” He takes a seat on the edge of the bench and uses his free hand to untie his laces. “Can you-“

You’re already crouching to help him take them off, picking them up and flashing him an attempt of a smile. “Come on, sweet cheeks. Let’s get you checked out.”

He laughs as he follows after you. “Who’s doing the checking?”

“The nurse, obviously.”

With a sigh, Hajime presses the tissue harder against his nose. He takes in a sharp breath at the pressure, making a weak attempt at scrunching his face. “It’s just disappointment after disappointment today.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. when an unfortunate incident kicks you out of your university and risks your reputation as one of the top figures skater in the country, you find your place in sendai. but when you discover they only have one rink, designated to their a-league hockey team, your chance at a comeback slips from your grasp. your only in is with the captain of the hockey team. the issue with that? he couldn’t care less who you are.

taglist (CLOSED). @standcom @thoughtswithbbg @aboutkiyoomi @angtopia @yunavx @celestialm1nd @surfeitstar @xiaoquanquans @istann @aldebrana @mdmraz @softpia @wakashudou @mo072806 @90s-belladonna @rrosiitas @suuunarin @chaotic-neutral-ig @nanasrkives @hrithi11 @itsdragonius @sexylexy12 @0rangej0e @wordsofelie @p4lli @a-sorrowful-tune @iluv-ace @matt444nixi @charleslec-airlines @meikstv @amterasuu @rabbitcola @sickpatientt @sophiahearttss @himec @torkorpse @nscuit @labsbedamned @iloveiwaizumihajime @snoowply @followingmysunsposts @navymacaroons @lover-no-lover61 @shozuken @sunaispretty @luvvcho @idexmids @luckybibucky @h3xi2g0n3 @soy-garbage @cloudtato

[widowromanova]

Sniper (part 2) - Natasha x Female Reader

warnings: mentions of violence, SMUT!!!

word count: 4891

a/n: here's the asked for part 2 (with (part of) their backstory) ;)

You shouldn’t have hesitated, you couldn’t afford to hesitate. God! How could you be so reckless! You had spent so long training just to avoid this. And yet, when you saw her tonight, the same fire in her eyes that once drew you in, every carefully constructed wall you’d built came crashing down.

It had been years since the two of you were more than just co-workers. Back then, it hadn’t just been reckless - it had been dangerous and intoxicating. Natasha had drawn you into her orbit effortlessly, she had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room, the only one who mattered, even when you both knew that wasn’t true.

The secrecy wasn’t just about breaking SHIELD’s rules; it was about protection. You had both made enemies, people who wouldn’t hesitate to use your connection against you. Hiding it wasn’t just to keep your careers intact - it was to keep each other safe. But the risk had only made it more intense.

It all started at that party, "God, what a cliché," you thought. SHIELD’s annual gala was never your scene, but Fury had insisted on your attendance, throwing out some half-hearted excuse about team morale. You had arrived late, your shirt buttoned-up wrong, trying to disappear into the background.

And then you saw her.

Natasha was standing at the edge of the room, her back to the wall, a glass of champagne in hand, her body dripping in a silk black dress. She looked untouchable, like she always did. But her eyes - those sharp, calculating eyes - were scanning the crowd with purpose. She wasn’t there for the small talk or the niceties. She never was. And yet, when her gaze found yours, something shifted. For a moment, the room and its noise blurred, the crowd nothing more than a collection of moving shadows. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, and you knew she’d seen right through your plan to fade into obscurity.

She approached you first. Of course she did. Natasha never waited for anyone to come to her.

“You look miserable,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “Let me guess, Fury dragged you here too?”

You’d laughed, caught off guard by the lightness of her tone. “Something like that. And you? I thought you thrived in situations like this.”

Her smile widened, but there was a glint of something deeper in her eyes. “I do, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy them.”

“Yeah, not exactly my idea of a good time,” you admitted, looking around the room.

She tilted her head, studying you with that sharp, assessing gaze. Her eyes flicked downward, and a small smirk tugged at her lips.

"Not your idea of a good time," she said, her tone laced with amusement. "Or maybe you’re just bad at dressing for it."

You frowned, confused, until she reached forward and tugged lightly at the collar of your shirt. It wasn’t until she stepped closer, the faint scent of her perfume brushing past you, that you realized what she was doing.

“Your buttons,” she murmured, her voice low, almost playful. Her fingers worked deftly, undoing the mismatched ones near your collar. “You can’t walk around looking like this- it’ll ruin the reputation Fury worked so hard to build for you.”

She delivered the last part with a dripping sarcasm that made you huff a quiet laugh despite yourself. “Oh, is that what Fury’s worried about?” you shot back, the corner of your mouth twitching into a smirk.

Her lips curved into a knowing grin as she finished fixing your shirt. “Absolutely. You’re the poster child for professionalism,” she said, her tone still laced with mockery.

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling warmth creep up the back of your neck. You weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or the proximity of her hands, brushing just lightly enough against your chest to make you uncomfortably aware of how close she was.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, her tone casual, but when she looked up, there was that spark in her eyes again, the one that made it hard to breathe. “There. Perfect.”

She patted your chest lightly, the gesture half-teasing, half-sincere, before stepping back with a satisfied smile. “Much better. Now you look like someone worth talking to.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small grin tugging at your lips. “I didn’t realize I was under inspection.”

“Always,” she quipped, looking you up and down in a satisfactory manner before grabbing her glass of champagne again. “You should know that by now.”

And just like that, she had you. In the span of a minute, Natasha Romanoff had taken a mundane moment and turned it into something you couldn’t stop thinking about. Looking back, you wondered if that had been her plan all along.

She tilted her head, studying you for a moment that felt longer than it should have. Then, with a mischievous spark, she handed you a drink. “Come on. Let’s make it more interesting.”

That was how it began - not with a grand declaration or a dramatic moment, but with Natasha pulling you out of the gala and onto the rooftop, away from the crowd. The conversation had been easy, surprisingly so. You had laughed, teased, talked about things you probably shouldn’t have, and for the first time, you saw Natasha not as the infamous Black Widow but as someone real.

The rooftop was quiet, the distant hum of the city below filling the silence. You leaned against the ledge, while Natasha stood a few feet away, her posture relaxed but somehow still charged with an energy that made her impossible to ignore.

For a while, neither of you said anything. It wasn’t the uncomfortable silence of strangers or colleagues forced into proximity, but something more natural. You could hear the faint clink of her glass as she swirled the last of her champagne, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“You know,” she finally said, her voice softer now, almost thoughtful, “this is the first time I’ve been able to breathe all night.”

You turned your head to look at her, the moonlight catching the sharp angles of her face. “Yeah? Doesn’t seem like anything gets to you.”

She smirked at that, a small, almost wistful expression. “Maybe I’m just good at hiding it.”

Something about the way she said it made your chest tighten. There was a vulnerability in her voice, and you wondered how many people ever got to hear it.

She set her empty glass down on the ledge, turning to face you fully. Her green eyes held yours, unguarded in a way that felt disarming.

“Why do you do that?” she asked suddenly, her tone shifting.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re not interesting,” she said, taking a step closer. “Like you’re just… background noise in a room full of people.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but she was already moving, closing the distance between you with a deliberate slowness. Her hand brushed your arm, light and tentative at first, then bolder as her fingers trailed down to your wrist.

“You’re not,” she murmured, her voice low and steady.

You should’ve stepped back, put some distance between you. Instead, you found yourself rooted to the spot, caught in her pull. Natasha’s free hand reached up, her fingers brushing the side of your face, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

For a moment, everything else faded - the gala, the rules, the risks. All that mattered was the way she was looking at you.

“Tell me to stop,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

Your heart pounded, each beat louder than the last as her words echoed in your mind. You should’ve said something - anything - but the way her eyes searched yours stole the breath from your lungs.

Natasha tilted her head, closing the gap the rest of the way, her lips brushing yours with a softness that sent a shiver through you. The kiss wasn’t rushed or demanding, but deliberate, as if she was waiting for you to pull away, to stop her. When you didn’t, her hand slid from your wrist up to your neck, her touch both steady and grounding.

Your hands found her waist, hesitating for a moment before you pulled her closer, the tension melting away. And now, all of a sudden, the cool night air seemed warmer.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead resting against yours, her breath mingled with yours in the space between. She didn’t speak right away, her eyes flickering over your face as if she was committing every detail to memory.

“This changes things,” she said softly, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, “it does.”

From then on, you met in secret. The first time you met was two days after the gala, when you received a message from an anonymous number with a single address and the words “8 PM.” You debated whether or not to go, well aware that anything involving Natasha would likely lead to trouble. But something about the thrill of her pulled you in.

At 8 o’clock, you arrived at the address, a small, unassuming apartment building on the outskirts of the city. You climbed the stairs and knocked on the door, pulse racing with anticipation and uncertainty. The door opened revealing Natasha, dressed casually in a black tank top and jeans, her hair pulled back into a messy bun. At the sight of you, a slow smile curled at the corners of her lips.

"You didn't give me much choice," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way your heart rate spiked at the sound of her voice.

She smiled softly, stepping aside to let you in. The apartment was cozy, dimly lit, and almost surprisingly normal-looking.

"Drink?" she asked, gesturing toward a bottle of scotch sitting on the kitchen counter. You nodded, accepting the glass she handed you. The silence between you was heavy. You watched her as she took a sip of her drink, studying you for a moment before finally speaking.

"I wasn't sure if you'd show up," she admitted, setting her glass down on the countertop and leaning on her arm against it. You shrugged, "Curiosity got the best of me, I suppose."

She raised an eyebrow, her smile growing into an almost predatory smirk. "Curiosity, huh?" You didn't respond, choosing instead to take a long drink. The scotch burned your throat, but you drank until you felt the heat in your cheeks cool.

Natasha tilted her head, her eyes roaming over you in that assessing way she had. She took a step closer, her proximity making it harder to think. "You're tense," she observed, her voice low and smooth. "Relax. I don't bite," she ran a hand up and down your arm. You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken. "I'd bet money you do," you quipped back.

Her smile widened. "Maybe I do," she murmured. "But not tonight." She held your gaze, her expression unreadable. For a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. Then, she lifted her hand to your face, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of your jaw.

"You're making this difficult," she murmured, her touch leaving a trail of heat. "I didn't expect you to be so..."

"So what?"

She paused, her eyes searching yours. “So… different,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit it. “I’ve been trying to keep things simple, but you…”

Her words trailed off as her hand rested against your chest, her thumb brushing the fabric of your shirt. The faintest smile tugged at her lips, “You make it quite hard.”

The space between you seemed to shrink. You wanted to ask her what she meant, to press her for clarity, but you already knew the answer. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. "Simple isn't really your style, is it?" you managed to say, your voice betraying the emotions churning inside.

Her wry smile deepened, a glint of mischief sparking in her eyes as her fingers lingered at your jaw, her thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Simple is boring,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

You tried to reply, to find some clever retort that would keep you grounded. All you could focus on was the way she looked at you, like she was daring you to close the last sliver of space between you.

“Natasha…” you started, but her name came out more like a sigh than a warning.

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. “What?” she asked, her tone teasing but soft. “I thought you liked complicated.” Before you could answer, her hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

And then, without hesitation, she kissed you.

It wasn’t tentative or unsure; it was deliberate, purposeful, like she wasn’t going to give you a chance to second-guess her. Again, her lips were warm, soft, but there was an urgency beneath it.

You responded instinctively, your hands finding her waist as you pulled her against you, deepening the kiss.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, and she let out a soft, almost amused breath. “See?” she whispered, her voice laced with a hint of triumph. “Complicated isn’t so bad.”

Her hand was still on the back of your neck, her fingers tracing idle patterns that sent shivers down your spine. "No," you breathed, your voice a low rumble against her skin, "it's not." You reached for her, pulling her head to the side to kiss her neck. She let out a soft, almost surprised gasp as your lips found her skin. Her fingers tightened in your hair, her body instinctively arching into you. You traced a line of kisses down her throat, tasting the salt and sweetness of her skin. Each press of your lips seemed to ignite a fire in her, a barely restrained need that mirrored your own. Her hand roamed down your back, nails scraping light and dangerous, sending another shiver through you. "You're not playing fair," she murmured in your ear, her voice ragged and breathless.

You smirked against her skin, pulling her closer, your hands sliding under the hem of her shirt. "Who said I was playing fair?" You pushed her backwards until she was against the wall, pinning her there with the weight of your body. Her eyes darkened, a mixture of desire and challenge in them. You reached up, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head. She let out a small gasp, her lips parting in surprise, her chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. She could have easily freed herself, but instead, she leaned into you, her body pressed flush against yours.

You tightened your grip on her wrists, holding her captive as you dispersed kiss after kiss, tracing the veins on her neck. She arched into you, her mouth brushing the shell of your ear, a low whisper of “What do you think you're doing?” You didn't respond. Your lips found her jaw, trailing a path of fire down her neck. Her body responded to your touch, her breaths uneven, her skin flushed. A quiet moan escaped her as you kissed along her collarbone, and you felt the tension in her shoulders start to loosen. But before you could go further, Natasha’s hand found its way to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as she pulled your head back sharply, bringing your eyes to meet hers.

“I didn’t say you could keep going,” she said, her voice breathless, a playful edge beneath the words.

You could see the challenge in her eyes, the same one that had always drawn you in - fearless, confident.

“Maybe I don’t need permission,” you murmured, your lips curling into a teasing smile.

She raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in the air between you, before her fingers slid from your hair, holding your face in her hands. “I like it when you’re bold,” she said softly, her voice now a mix of approval. Her thumb brushed over your lower lip, a gesture so intimate it made your heart skip a beat. “But," she continued, her voice a low, gravelly murmur, "don't get ahead of yourself."

"And why not?" you challenged.

Natasha smirked, the challenge clear in her eyes. "Because I said so," she replied firmly, her fingers tightening around your jaw.

She took a step forward, closing the small distance between you. Her body was now pressed against yours, her gaze intense and unwavering. "And if there's one thing you should know about me," she continued, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "I always get what I want."

In one swift motion, she turned, slamming you against the wall, her body pinning you there as her mouth found yours. The kiss was fiery, possessive, her tongue demanding entry as her hands gripped at your shirt, pulling you closer. Her leg pressed between yours, her knee rubbing slightly against the growing wet spot there. You could feel her smirk against your lips, her teeth nipping at your tongue. Her hands were under your shirt now, nails scraping down your stomach.

She pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Her thumb traced over your lips, swollen and tender from her, her touch feather-light yet utterly possessive.

"Still think you're in charge here?" she murmured, her voice a low husk. Her grip on your hips tightened, her knee pressing into you further, eliciting a low moan from you. She looked you up and down, "You're wearing too much."

Without waiting for a response, she started tugging at your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one swift move. Her gaze raked over your exposed skin, a look of hunger in her eyes. You watched her, goose bumps pebbling across your skin. She took her own shirt off now, her skin gleaming under the light, a canvas of muscle and scars, a stark contrast to the delicate curve of her hip. She moved closer, pressing herself against you, her bare skin against yours. Her hands roamed over your body, mapping every contour, every muscle. She traced a line down your chest, nails scratching lightly against your skin. Her mouth found your neck, her lips grazing over the sensitive flesh there, her breath hot and heavy against your skin. You began to fiddle with the clasp of her bra, desperately trying to undress her.

She pulled away slightly, her hands catching yours, pinning them against the wall above your head. Her expression was stern, almost predatory, a silent command to stay still. "Patience," she murmured, her breath tickling your ear. She let go of your hands to reach behind her back, unclasping the garment herself. You watched as she seductively took it off to drop it at your feet then pulled the waistband of her underwear down as well, dropping them beside her bra. Her hands skimmed over your hips, her thumbs hooking into the waistband. She looked up at you, a silent question in her eyes, seeking permission. You could only nod, words failing you. Your brain was a hazy mess of need and the sharp awareness of every inch of your body where she touched you.

You felt the material slither down your legs, heard the whisper of it falling to the floor. You were exposed now, vulnerable in a way you hadn't been before. But there was no shame in your nudity under Natasha's gaze, only a growing sense of belonging. She harshly grabbed you by the face again, your lips clashing as she haphazardly walked you over to the sofa where she pushed you to sit down.

You landed on the couch with a thud, your breath leaving you in a rush. Before you could even catch your bearings, Natasha was on you, straddling your lap, her body pressed flush against yours. Her mouth found yours again, her kiss rough and demanding. Her weight was pinning you to the cushions, the feeling of her skin against yours sending sparks through you. Your hands found their way to her hips, gripping tightly.

You moved your leg to position itself between hers, watching her as she tensed slightly at the movement, a small gasp escaping her lips. She broke the kiss to bury her face in the crook of your neck, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there. You could feel her shiver, her body involuntarily rocking against your leg.

"Eager," she murmured against your neck, her voice a ragged whisper, "aren't you?" Her tongue traced a path down your throat, pleasure searing through you. She ground against your thigh, seeking friction, her breath coming in uneven gasps. Your hands tightened on her hips, guiding her movements despite the loss of control. She whined in your ear, as you managed to gasp out a few words, your voice thick with desire. "I thought you were the one in charge," you panted, your fingers running up her sides to caress the soft skin of her back.

She pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes dark with desire. "And I am," she replied, her words punctuated by a roll of her hips against your thigh. "But," she continued, her voice dropping as she let out another moan, "I like it when you get... unruly."

Your hands roamed over her body in response, one staying on her hip while the other moved higher, tracing the curve of her breast. She arched into your touch, a soft moan escaping her. The sight was almost too much to bear, the way she responded to you like a drug. She leaned in closer, her mouth finding yours again, her tongue insistent, demanding entry. She moved against you, each roll of her hips against your leg driving you both closer to the edge. You were lost in her.

Your fingers slowly moved down her stomach, stopping just above her pelvis. Her breath hitched at the feel of your fingers so close to where she wanted them most. Her hips instinctively thrust towards your hand, a silent plea for more. A low moan escaped her throat, her eyes dark and burning into yours. "Stop... teasing," she gasped, the words barely more than a ragged whisper.

You smirked at her, watching her domination over you waver, your hand staying exactly where you placed it. Her body was tense against you, a barely contained coil of energy waiting to snap. The look in her eyes was a mix of frustration and desire as she shifted her weight, her knees digging into the couch on either side of you. "I said stop..." she repeated, her voice a low growl. But her body betrayed her words, her hips still moving on their own accord, seeking out your touch. Your fingers trailed lightly over her skin, drawing lazy circles that drove her wild, but never quite giving her what she wanted.

Her eyes darkened, a growl-like sound rumbling in her throat. She grabbed your face firmly, her grip just on the edge of being painful. "You're playing a dangerous game here," she muttered, her body pressed flush against yours. Her fingers tangled in your hair, forcing your head back, leaving your neck exposed to her. Her mouth latched onto the sensitive skin of your neck, teeth sinking in just enough to make you gasp. "You're making it difficult to stay in control," she breathed against your skin, her breath hot and ragged.

"Good," you simply say.

Your words make her pause, her mouth still against your neck. You can feel her smirk, a mix of irritation and amusement as she laughs, "You do realise," she purred, her voice low, "that I could have you begging on your knees right now if I wanted?"

"Yeah, but..." your hand moves over her clit to trace circles, "you really don't want me to stop this, do you?" A shudder runs through her body, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening again to lock with yours. Her breath catches, a stifled gasp escaping her. She tries to hold on to her composure. "Not... fair," she manages to say, her voice shakier than before. You smirk, your fingers continuing to move down to enter her, stretching her out perfectly. She lets out a low growl, "God.." Her hips snap against your hand, desperate for more. "Just... like that," she gasps, her body betraying her words. Her hands grip your shoulders, nails digging in, leaving little moon crescents in your skin. It is beyond clear she has lost most of her composure.

Her body tenses again, her thighs trembling slightly around your hand. Her eyes are dark, clouded over with desire, her breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. "Don't stop," she whispers, the words barely a breath.

"I wasn't planning to," you tease.

"Shut up," she mutters, but there's no real venom in her words, just a hint of desperation that betrays how badly she wants you. Her hands slide down from your shoulders to your biceps, holding onto you like a lifeline. "Who knew," she grunts, her voice catching.

"Knew what?"

"That you could..." her sentence cut off with a moan, "reduce me to this." She manages to gasp out the words between ragged breaths, her body arching into your touch. You can feel how close she is, her body strung tight like a bowstring, ready to snap. "Just... keep going.." she practically pleads.

You keep going, your fingers dancing over exactly the right spot, driving her higher and higher until-

Her head falls back, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she comes undone. Her body shivers against you, her nails digging into your arms. Her limbs tremble, her head dropping forward to rest against your shoulder as she tries to catch her breath. "You..." she breathes.

"I, what?" you retort, a wide grin playing on your face. She lifts her head, her eyes meeting yours, still swimming in a heady mix. "Why is that look so damn attractive on you?" she mutters, still riding her high while her hands still grip your arms tightly.

You laugh, "What am I, Nat?"

"Annoying," she mutters, her eyes narrowing. "Possibly aggravating," she continues, her breathing slowing down slightly. But despite her words, her hands don't let go of you, her body still pressed tightly against yours.

"Now why would you say that?" you question, feigning hurt.

"Oh, let me count," she muses, her voice regaining some of its usual sardonic edge. "Your smugness when you get the upper hand, your infuriatingly attractive smile-", you watch her with admiration, a smile forming on your face, "-the fact that you somehow always manage to push all my buttons. Not to mention, you're doing a damn good job of driving me crazy right now." Her words are an equal measure of wanting to strangle you and wanting to kiss you senseless.

As if to prove her point, she pushes against you further, her body moulding to yours. She leans in, her mouth at your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "You have any idea what you do to me, huh?" she whispers, the words a murmur in your ear. "And right now, I don't know if I want to kill you or kiss you."

You pretend to pay attention, your mouth slowly finding her neck again, your tongue tracing a path over her skin. She lets out a soft sigh, a shudder running through her at your touch. Her fingers rake through your hair, a possessive gesture as she holds you against her. She's trying to regain a semblance of control, to take back the upper hand.

But despite her best efforts, her body betrays her. She arches into you, a moan escaping her as your mouth finds that sensitive spot below her ear, "Fuck you, L/N..."

"I was hoping you would," you quip. The rest of the night became a blur, the walls of your memory stained with the hazy scent of sex that lingered throughout her apartment as you found... comfort... in each other for the next day.

But for all the passion, there had been cracks in the foundation of which neither of you could admit to at the time. Natasha had always been an enigma, parts of her locked away so tightly even you couldn’t reach them. And you - you had started to wonder if loving her was just another risk you hadn't been strong enough to take.

Tonight, you had faltered.

Your grip on the rifle tightened, and you exhaled, watching your breath curl into the night air. Natasha was always in control, and somehow, despite everything, you had let her slip through your fingers again.

The rooftop was quiet now, but your thoughts were anything but. Because she wasn’t just an assignment. She never had been. And the next time you saw her, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to pull the trigger - or if she’d already have you in her sights first.

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed, there will be a part 3 (i have more to add to their backstory, i just did not want to put it all in one part ;)) the smut will continue!

[buttermellow-niffler]

Stolen Hours - Loki/Reader

Summary: After months of hiding your relationship with Loki from the Avengers, one late-night encounter shatters your carefully guarded secret. Forced apart by suspicion and fear, you and Loki each struggle with heartbreak and longing until the team finally realises the cost of keeping you apart. When you’re reunited at last, will your love be strong enough to weather everything that comes next? Warnings: Angst, Separation, Mention of Past Manipulation, Hurt

I do not own Loki, the Avengers, or any Marvel characters or properties. This story is purely a work of fanfiction, written for entertainment and not for profit. All rights to Marvel and its characters belong to their respective owners.

Part 1: Secrets Shattered

It’s late, well past midnight, when the quiet of Stark Tower finally settles over you. The city glows beyond the glass, skyscrapers haloed in gold, their lights flickering against the dark like distant stars. Inside, the world has shrunk to the soft hum of the TV, left on with the volume low, and the gentle laughter you share with Loki in the dimly lit TV room. It’s one of those rare moments when the rest of the Avengers are scattered: some asleep, some off on missions, and for once, you’re both free. Here, in the soft glow of the screen, you can finally drop your guard, let your head rest on his shoulder, and pretend the world is less complicated. For a moment, the ache of secrecy lifts, and you let yourself imagine what it would be like to love him out loud.

Loki’s fingers draw idle circles on your arm, a silent, reassuring rhythm that grounds you more than you’d ever admit. His presence is a steady comfort, a rare thing in your chaotic life. Here, beneath the layers of mischief and bravado, he’s just Loki: warm, sharp, heartbreakingly vulnerable in the small hours of the night. You find yourself watching the way the shadows move across his face, memorising every curve and line, in case this is the last night you’ll have him like this.

You break the silence, voice low and teasing. “You know, I keep expecting Tony’s AI to rat us out.”

Loki’s mouth curls into a sly smile, emerald eyes dancing with amusement. “If JARVIS were going to betray us, he would have done so long ago. I suspect he enjoys the intrigue. Even artificial intelligence must crave entertainment, now and then.”

You laugh, the sound barely more than a breath, and you feel the tension ease just a little. “I don’t know. I think he’s just waiting for the perfect moment to make it a spectacle. Probably has a betting pool with Dum-E on when we’ll slip up.”

He leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Let them wager. I’d rather have you here, even with the risk.”

Your pulse flutters as he cups your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. The world narrows to just the two of you, the flicker of the TV painting the room in shifting shadows, the warmth of his breath against your skin. When your lips meet, it’s careful and unhurried, both of you savouring the rare chance to be together without fear. For a fleeting second, everything feels right. Everything feels safe.

Until the elevator dings.

Footsteps echo in the hallway, too close, and you spring apart just in time as Steve and Natasha walk in. The room seems to freeze, their eyes sweeping over you, caught red-handed, hearts pounding. Steve’s jaw clenches, concern and suspicion written plainly on his face.

“What’s going on?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but there’s a steely edge beneath the words that makes you flinch.

Natasha’s gaze is sharper still, flicking between you and Loki, putting the pieces together in seconds. “You two. How long?”

Your mind blanks. Panic claws at your throat. Loki shifts beside you, his usual composure faltering for just a second. You scramble for words, your voice trembling. “It’s not what it looks like-”

Natasha cuts you off, voice tight. “It’s exactly what it looks like. Are you out of your mind? He’s Loki. Do you have any idea what you’re risking?”

Steve’s frown deepens. “We’re just looking out for you. After everything that’s happened, how could you trust him?”

You barely sleep that night, anxiety twisting in your gut as you replay the confrontation again and again. By morning, it’s clear the news has spread. The compound hums with tension, the air heavy with distrust. You walk into the main room to find Tony already waiting, arms crossed, eyes cold.

“We can’t trust him. He’s manipulated all of us before. What makes you think you’re any different?” His words sting, but what hurts most is that no one stands up for you, not even Bruce, who keeps his head down and avoids your gaze.

Thor tries to speak up, defending his brother, but the suspicion is too thick, the wounds of the past still too fresh. Steve’s disappointment is the worst of all, a heavy, quiet thing that lingers in the way he looks at you.

“You’re being naive,” he says softly, shaking his head. “We just want to protect you.”

No matter how much you protest, how desperately you try to explain that it’s real, that Loki is not manipulating you, they won’t listen. In the end, they separate you, Loki locked away in a cell-like room, guarded by tech, you left alone to face the fallout.

Your days blur into a routine of frustrated explanations and silent meals, your nights spent staring at the ceiling, wishing for the comfort of Loki’s voice, the gentle brush of his hand, the reassurance that you’re not alone. You can only hope the team will see the truth before it’s too late.

[in1-nutshell]

Can we have more of idw Ophelia? Like Megatron catching on or finding out that Ophelia is his sparkling? The angst and fluff that could happen

ANGST!!!!!

That's all the clues.

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron finds out about Ophelia's identity

SFW, Platonic, ANGST, Familial, Hinted Romance, Mention of injury, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

There were good days and bad days on the Lost Light.

On a good day, you’d find some sort of clue about the Knights of Cybertron or a team building day.

On a bad day, you’d end up fighting something that wanted you gone.

Today was a bad day.

Some of the members of the DJD had found the ship and decided to mess with the crew a bit.

It was more for fun than getting actual work done.

What made matters worse, Overlord had decided to join in to ‘stretch his pedes’.

Everyone was armed and prepared to defend their home.

Megatron was leading a group of bots consisting of Ophelia, some new bot named Steve, Rewind, and Chromedome.

Sadly, the group would encounter a familiar Decepticon in the halls.

Overlord turns the corner and sees the group of bots. Most of the ‘senior’ bots immediately stand in front of Rewind with their arms ready. Chromedome just holds his Conjunx to his chassis glaring into the six-phaser optics. Overlord seemed to have his optics trained on Megatron. Overlord: “Megatron, it has been so long.” Megatron: “Overlord.” The taller bot smiles sadistically. Overlord: “I have been waiting for this moment.” Ophelia steps slightly in front of Megatron with her blaster ready. Overlord: “Oh? You have more bots fighting your battle Megatron? Typical.” Ophelia: “Surrender or risk getting terminated Overlord. You are not touching any bot here as long as I function.” Overlord laughs. Overlord: “Oh that’s cute. Now tell me Autobot have I fought you before?” Ophelia stays silent glaring at the Decepticon. Overlord: “Maybe I fought someone you knew. Either way, you stay out of my way, and I might make Megatron’s death quick.” SLAM! Ophelia had punched the Decepticon across the face surprising everyone. Ophelia looks at Megatron panicky. Ophelia: “Run! I’ll buy you some time!” Megatron: “Ophelia—” Ophelia doesn’t listen and tackles Overlord onto the ground. Steve tries to follow her, but Megatron grabs him and pushes everyone to the opposite direction. Steve: “No! Megatron, she needs—” Megatron: “We have to go now!”

Megatron did not want to leave Ophelia behind, but considering how fast Overlord fought and most of the bots with him never having any fighting experience close to his, he ran.

There was a lot of resistance from Steve but had to stop when more cons started showing up.

Thankfully the battle did not last long.

The DJD had found something more important and had retreated to their ship and flew away.

Now it was time get the injured or those who had gotten terminated.

Their little group immediately tried to go back to the hall where Ophelia had told them to run.

They were met with Ratchet kneeling over a large grey frame.

There was a missing pede, mangled servos, so many dents littered all over the chassis and dented helm with offlined optics.

No…

Steve: “OPHELIA!” Steve ran past Megatron and kneeled next to Ratchet, his servos hovering and shaking unsure of what to do. Megatron, Chromedome and Rewind walked over. Chromedome: “Is she—” Ratchet: “Shush! I’m trying to listen.” Everyone went quiet. TAP! TAP! TAP! Ratchet broke into a humorless laugh. Ratchet: “She’s still there.” Ratchet looks at Megatron, a flash of guilt flashes but covers it up. Ratchet: “Chromedome, Megatron I need you to pull open the chassis—” Megatron: “What?!” Ratchet: “I will not repeat myself Megatron! Now listen! Chromedome grab on my side and Megatron grabs the other side. If we work fast enough it should open fast. Steve, Rewind Stand a bit farther over there. There’s no telling where she’s going to land.” Megatron, filled with questions does as he is told. The chassis groans and creaks. Ratchet: “One more time! 3… 2… 1! NOW!”

The bots pull at the chassis hearing it groaning and creaking.

Suddenly the chassis opens up and something goes flying out.

Steve was fast enough to grab the flying object, knocking him on his back.

Megatron stood up to see what he had grabbed.

The ex-warlord never quite understood the human term ‘having the wind knocked out of you’, but he was sure he was experiencing something similar.

Cradled in Steve’s arms was an injured minibot.

A minibot who looked extremely similar to…

But that would be impossible…

She was killed before the war even started…

He doesn’t register Ratchet and Chromedome making their way to the minibot in Steve’s arms.

He doesn’t register them calling his name.

But he does recognize that lost look on her faceplate.

His Little One.

Ratchet notices Megatron’s face of realization. He is grateful that Ophelia isn’t completely conscious to realize the one mech who wasn’t supposed to find out about her identity… well, finding out like this. Ratchet turns to Megatron. Ratchet: “We need to get her to the medbay now. We don’t know what else Overlord did to her internally and by the looks of it, it isn’t good. We need you to get us a clear path to the medbay.” Megatron snaps out of his trance and looks at the doctor. Megatron: “H-how long—” Ratchet: “Megatron now is not the time!” Steve: “HEY!” Both mech’s look at Steve. He looks like he on the verge of a nervous breakdown, shaking with Ophelia still in his arms. Steve: “I don’t know what is happening between you two but ‘Lia needs the medbay now! Megatron, are you going to help or not!?” Megatron is a bit stunned but stands up. Megatron: “Follow me.”

It is a silent trip to the med bay.

Ratchet ends up kicking everyone who isn’t a medic out.

Most injuries the crew had received were dents and scratches.

The only one to have serious damage had been Ophelia.

It wasn’t like many bots willingly threw themselves onto the sadistic mechs either.

Megatron truly didn’t care for the others right now.

His entire world had just been flipped upside down.

His sparkling, his daughter was alive.

He doesn’t know if this was a blessing, or some cruel joke Primus was playing on him.

It became painfully aware that he could have directly or indirectly have been responsible for her termination and would have never known.

There is no news about Ophelia’s status, and it was eating Megatron from the inside.

Megatron had requested Magnus, Ratchet (when he had a break) and Rodimus to come to a private meeting.

He asked them how long they knew about Ophelia being his daughter.

Ratchet gave them the clear to talk.

Megatron could not believe everything he heard in that meeting.

He stayed silent the entire time, wanting to absorb all the information as he could.

It was in the middle of the meeting when Ratchet had received a message from First Aid.

Ophelia was awake.

Ophelia groaned as she looked around. Ophelia: “Urgh, my aching helm…” Ravage: “I’m surprised that is the only thing that hurts.” Ophelia: “Hey Ravage… wait… Ravage?!” Ophelia was now painfully aware of her lack of suit. Ravage looked tired and relief. Ravage: “First Aid just messaged Ratchet you’re awake. He should be coming soon.” Ophelia nods slowly, wincing a bit at the dull pain in her helm. Ravage jumps to the vents but pauses. Ravage: “Talk to you later kid.” The felicon disappeared. She looks at the door as the sounds of multiple pede sound. Ratchet: “Megatron I’m not sure if she—Argh!” Megatron had pushed Ratchet out of the way. He looked desperate and scared. His optics land on her. He slowly walks over to Ophelia who could only sit and watch him come over. Megatron stops right by the berth side. Ophelia: “…Hello Megatron… It’s been a while, huh?” THUD! Ophelia jumps a bit as the ex-warlord falls to his knees. He takes a shaky intake. Megatron: “Little one?” Ophelia couldn’t stop the tears from spilling from the old nickname. Megatron hesitantly wipes her tears and slowly places his larger servo on her backstruts. They both stay like that for a while. No words exchanged. Words would come later. Now they just drank up each other’s touch they had not felt in years.

[19blackbutterfly97-blog]

Twisted Bonds - Part 12

Word Count: 1,649

Warnings: Angst, innuendos, avoidance of feelings

A.N.: Hey Ya'll! Short chapter this week since I was sick, then everyone else got sick. Hope you enjoy!!!!

Twisted Bonds Masterlist

Divider by: @k1ssyoursister

Avoidance, that was the name of the game Alice, Bucky and Steve found themselves playing in the following week. Alice spent most of her time hiding out in her office and dodging them; while Bucky and Steve practically took over the training room, working themselves to near exhaustion everyday.

The team had gotten word a few days ago that the Shi'ar mother ship was slowly making its way through the galaxy they called home with the intention of breaking through the Earth's atmosphere to cause chaos. Tony, with the help of Alice and Fury, had been handling most of the negotiations. He was still trying to find a non-violent solution to get them to leave the world alone but they were still at odds with each other.

"So... Barnes just couldn't... finish the job?" Tony asks, looking over Alice's shoulder.

"What? Who said that?"

"Nobody had to say it. It was kind of obvious when Rogers disappeared for two days."

"Coincidence."

"Yeah? Then why do you still smell like both of them?"

"Do I need to call Pepper?" Alice threatens, turning in her chair to glare at him though there's no heat in her eyes. She knows as well as everyone else that she can't keep everyone in limbo like this, especially not Bucky and Steve. Everyone can see how the Alphas are on edge more so than usual and that's not exactly something anyone in the pack needs right now.

"I'm sorry, okay? I know I need to talk to them, I'm just not there yet."

"Doesn't matter much right now, sweet cheeks."

"Yes it does. I've been avoiding both of them and they're taking it out on everyone."

"Not to mention the gym equipment." Tony snarks under his breath.

Alice huffs out a small laugh. "Yeah, I guess that's a problem too... Mostly for your wallet though."

"My wallet can handle it, their hearts can't." He says with a knowing smirk before walking towards the door, trying to act cool. "Keep me updated. I'm going to see if we can get these guys to land in an open field instead of Manhattan."

Alice nods and looks at the cork board on the wall. It's plastered with diagrams, data reports, pictures, and printouts about the Shi'ar. Every little detail she could find was pinned up, right down to names of the royal family they've been negotiating with. "Why do you think they're so focused on us?"

"High population in a dense area."

"Makes sense I guess." Alice mutters to herself. "Most destruction, sends a message, has the possibility of taking out Earth's greatest heroes..."

"Hey guys, making any progress?" Sam asks as he walks in the small office.

"Not enough." Alice huffs and slumps back in her chair. "What do you need Sam?"

"Nothing really. Tony, Rhody is here."

"Yes!" Tony grins. "Catch you guys later. Alice, remember what I said." He shoots her a wink before brisking past Sam to leave.

Sam looks between the door and Alice. "What was that about?"

She gives him a pointed look. "Do you really have to ask?"

"Point taken. They just left for a run if you want to hide out in the kitchen for once. Wanda cooked some Sokovian soup or something."

"Thanks but I think I'll hang out here. I'm still going through a few things."

"You sure? It smelled really good."

"Yeah, I'm sure. I just got a few mission reports from the X-men I want to look at before I do anything else." She says and pops a pretzel stick between her teeth. New boxes of them have been appearing on her desk every morning this week giving her a seemingly never ending supply that she hasn't bothered to question yet.

"Alright, your loss." Sam says and turns to the door, his hand hovers over the handle for a moment before turning back to look at her. "At the risk of sounding like Steve, those don't count as real food."

"I'm sure I'll live." She mumbles and pulls up the report again. Sam sighs and walks out of her office, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Alice stands up long enough to lock the door behind him before moving back to her desk. Her eyes focus on the screen in front of her at the direct contact information provided with the report:

"I should call them..." She whispers to herself as she reaches for her phone before another thought crosses her mind. Most of the information she's received has been heavily redacted. In theory, whoever is in charge at this school should have the original copies of the reports. Maybe, just maybe, they'd let her look at them.

"This is such a bad idea." She mutters and types in the address on her phone. It's a three hour drive at most, a day trip by car that she could do on her own. No Alphas necessary. She knows this could be a bad idea but she's determined to gather as much information as possible and getting it straight from the source has to be better than the half-assed reports she's been skimming through.

Her quest for the truth fuels her as she grabs her jacket, go-bag and phone before sneaking out of her office. She sticks a scent blocker patch on her neck in the elevator to make sure nobody can smell her. Alice was just a S.H.I.E.L.D. analyst but she's still had the same training as any other agent. This is just the first time she's using any of it, it's also the first time she's going rouge.

Alice's car was a relic from the past given to her by her grandfather on his deathbed. A 1975 Mustang 2 in a dark emerald green that matched her eyes. It's been stored in the compound's garage for safe keeping for years now, hidden under a tarp next to her daily driver, a silver Toyota Camry. The car was almost never driven since it was given to her. The only time she ever got behind its wheel was for maintenance or times like these. When the loud rumble of a V8's horsepower was the only thing that'd be able to calm the storm in her soul. Her hands glide over the leather steering wheel with love and care as she guides the vehicle out of the garage and down the street. She'd deal with everything else later but for now her destination was set, she'd make it to Salem in the morning. With any luck she'll return with more answers than questions.

--

About the time Alice was pulling up to the school Yelena for whatever reason was walking around the garage. She looked at the empty spot next to her sister's Camry, the grey tarp laying haphazardly on the concrete floor. "You little shit." She mutters under her breath before running up to the Avenger's living quarters.

"Where is she?!" She growls, stomping up to Bucky and Steve.

"Her office?" Steve says, raising an eyebrow at her.

"No she's not."

"That's where she was earlier." Sam answers.

Yelena turns her glare on him. "How long ago?"

"A couple of hours. She said she was working through some new info."

"What's going on?" Bucky finally asks, standing up.

"She's gone."

"No, no she's not. She's downstairs working, still trying to avoid us." He laughs and motions between himself and Steve.

Yelena shakes her head. "No she's not. Her car is gone."

Tony hums a little and asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. to pull up the garage footage where Alice's car is parked. "Her Camry is still there."

"Yes, but her Mustang isn't, idiot." Yelena grumbles and rubs her temples.

"She has a Mustang?" Steve asks, earning another withering look from Yelena.

"No, Steve, she has the invisible boatmobile and I'm panicking for no reason." She snarks. "Of course she has a Mustang!"

"Yelena, breath." Natasha says and puts a hand on her shoulder. "We don't need to panic. She's taken the car out before just to cool off for a bit. I'm sure that's all this is."

"No, she would have told somebody."

Bucky growls a little as his mind wanders to every possible situation; from a soothing drive to her being kidnapped, an accident. Every outcome, good or bad, crosses his mind faster than he can process. "Where would she go?"

"I don't know."

"What was she looking into?" Bucky asks Sam who just shrugs. Tony pulls up one of the open ended files Alice was working on compiling this morning. He's silent for once as he looks for answers while the rest of the team loudly starts arguing amongst themselves. Each of them presents their own theory of where she is or what happened to her. They're all blaming themselves in a way but nobody holds guilt like Bucky.

Bucky at some point returns to his default setting of stoic and aloof as he gravitates towards the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. His mind is a warzone already, his life constantly haunted by the wrongdoings he was forced to perform over his extended life. Guilt settles in his bones when he thinks that he's the reason that a perfect ray of sunshine was pushed away. This is my fault.

His guilt overpowers anything and he doesn't care if she chooses him or Steve right now. As long as she comes back to shine on him again it doesn't matter. He just wants her back, wants her safe. "I'll be back." He grumbles and pulls on his leather jacket before retreating downstairs to the garage. He never made the connection that the covered car was Alice's. He's looked at that spot more than once and never once did he think anything of it. His curiosity never peaked, it was always just another agent's car that just happened to be parked next to Alice's. Now, he's pissed at himself for not second guessing it. He's not sure what it'll do but he slings a leg over his motorcycle anyway and cranks the engine before peeling out of the garage, taking to the busy streets of the city.

[fanfic-ya-know]

Collateral Loyalties Pt. 2

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Language! (just at the end), potential typos (sorry)

AN: WOAH, so sorry this took forever. But I saw Thunderbolts* this weekend and had my Marvel love reignited. I might write a Bob fic soon - we'll see! ANYWAY, I hope you enjoy <3 Update: Edited to be in 2nd person

Steve sat at the table in the conference room, a lull in the debrief of the previous night's events as the team thought through next steps. Across from him, Natasha reclined in her chair, her expression unreadable, while Tony leaned back, one leg crossed over the other, tapping idly on his phone. Fury and Agent Hill stood near the head of the table.

“She knows who I am,” Steve said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but firm, the weight of his words drawing everyone’s attention.

“Excuse me?” Fury said, stepping closer. “She knows?”

Steve nodded. “She called me Captain. Didn’t seem particularly surprised to see me there.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “And she didn’t blow your cover? Interesting.”

“More than interesting,” Tony said, glancing up from his phone. “If she’s not ratting you out to Rovina, she’s either playing her own game or she’s on our side. Which is it, Cap?”

“I don’t know yet,” Steve admitted. “But she’s not just a bystander. She’s smart, calculating. But I think…” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I think she’s scared of him.”

Hill crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. “Scared how? Like she’s under his thumb?”

“Maybe,” Steve said. “It’s just a feeling, but it’s worth considering.”

Fury’s expression didn’t change, but he exchanged a glance with Hill. “If she’s scared of Rovina, we can use that,” he said. “But it also makes her a liability. If she’s loyal to him out of fear, she could turn on you in a second.”

“He invited me back,” Steve said. “He said 'David' could come by to see his art collection.”

“Perfect,” Tony said with a smirk. “You get to play dress-up again.”

“It’s a risk,” Natasha said, her tone more serious. “If Y/N knows who you are, she might be setting a trap.”

“Then I’ll spring it,” Steve said simply.

Fury nodded, his decision made. “Alright. Rogers, you go back to the villa as David Owens. See what you can learn while our team finishes decoding the files Romanoff brought us last night. Romanoff, Stark, and Hill will stay on standby. If things go sideways, we’ll extract you.”

Steve gave a sharp nod. “Understood.”

After checking in at the gaurded gate, Steve pulled up to the villa in a sleek black car - the kind of vehicle Tony insisted would “complete the look.” The sprawling estate was just as impressive in daylight, its stone walls framed by cypress trees and rolling hills. He adjusted his tie, stepping out of the car with a confident air.

You opened the door, a faint smile on your lips. You were dressed more casually this time, in trousers and a loose blouse, your hair down in somewhat untamed curls. You looked completely different than how he had previously seen you, but your beauty hadn't lessened. You seemed more natural, effortless this way. “Mr. Owens,” you greeted, your tone light, almost surprised. “I apologize. I wasn't expecting you."

"Oh," Steve paused, looking past you into the home, then back down at you. "I thought I had an appointment with Mr. Rovina."

"I see," you said, smile fading slightly. "Well, I'm sure you did, but something urgent came up in Rome. Leo is gone for the next few days.”

"Ah, well I will just have to reschedule then," Steve said, stepping backwards, as if to leave.

"No!" you said abruptly, catching even yourself off guard. You laughed softly, trying to cover for whatever had come over you. "I mean, you came all this way. Why don't you come in? I was about to sit down for some lunch. You're welcome to join me."

Steve grinned. "I'd love to."

You gestured for him to follow, leading him through the grand entrance. The villa was quieter now, the excitement of last night’s party replaced by a serene stillness. It wasn't until they started walking that Steve noticed that you weren't wearing shoes. You were just padding around the impressive estate in your socks. For a moment, Steve saw past your calm and collected exterior, seeing you for more of who you really were. He thought about how young you were and how strange it must've been to be in your position. He remembered that feeling - of being so far from home.

Lost in thought, before he knew it, Steve was standing at the edge of a beautiful garden, lined with towering cypress trees. He followed you to a gazebo with a table of food at the center.

"Please," you said, gesturing toward one of the chairs as she sat. "Wine?"

Steve sat where you directed him. He gave a short nod to your question and smiled as you passed him the glass you just filled. The food between them was scattered across the table - fruits, meats, and cheeses artistically laid out. There were pieces of bread and various spreads to accompany as well. The whole table served as a charcuterie board of sorts.

"Mr. Owens?"

"David, please," Steve corrected, but it felt strange knowing that the lie was pointless with it being just the two of you.

"Right," you smiled knowingly, but your gaze drifted beyond him.

Steve followed your line of sight to the two armed guards on the balcony above you. He looked back at you and gave you a short, understanding nod.

"So, David," you struck up the conversation again, with your light tone. "How long do you intend to stay in Italy?"

"I'm not sure," Steve replied. "I suppose that depends on Tony. I'm sort of at his disposal for the moment. It won't be long before I need to return to New York, though."

"Right," you said again.

"And you?" Steve continued, trying to keep the conversation flowing. "Do you have any plans to go back to the States anytime soon?"

You gave him another of your small smiles, one that he would read as flirtatious if he didn't know any better. "Not at the moment," you said softly, sighing. "I don't have much waiting for me there." You looked down and swallowed, clearly uncomfortable with the thought. "And besides," you looked back up at Steve, having put your happy hostess mask back on. "I have so much work to do, and it's so beautiful here. Why would I ever want to leave?" You gestured around them at the luxurious garden.

Steve contemplated what you said, thinking you sounded sort of like a prisoner.

You must've tracked his train of thought because you laughed and said, "It's not like Stockholm Syndrome or anything. I could leave if I wanted to - I just don't."

"Right," was all that Steve could think to say, repeating your earlier response.

The conversation died there. The two of you just sat and picked at the food before you. You finished your glass of wine and poured yourself another. Steve watched as you downed your second glass like it was water and poured yourself a third.

"Okay, Mr. Owens," you said, meeting his gaze.

"David," Steve corrected her, and it came out colder than he intended.

Your jaw clenched slightly at his tone before you continued. "David," you said through a forced smile. "Why don't I give you a tour? I know you must be itching to see Leo's collection. I'll let him show you the bulk of it, but I'd hate for you to leave without seeing at least some of it. That is what you came for."

Steve wasn't sure what he had done to upset you, but he thought it would be best to comply to avoid any further tension.

"Lead the way," he said.

As you walked, you spoke about the history of the pieces in Rovina’s collection, your tone conversational but distant, as though reciting a script.

Steve listened, but his focus was on you. He watched for any signs of distress, noting the subtle way your eyes flicked toward the windows and down the various corridors you passed.

The conversation turned lighter, you teased him about his apparent lack of art knowledge while Steve played along, letting you lead the way. But beneath the surface, he was piecing together a picture. You weren’t just a hostage. You were more than that. But how much more?

You approached a gallery filled with paintings and sculptures, the sunlight streaming through tall windows casting patterns on the floor. You gestured for him to enter as you lingered near the door. Steve stalked into the room, nearing the painting on the far wall, when he heard a click. His attention shot back to you, now leaning against the large wooden doors you had closed behind you. You were grinning at him, mischief in your eyes.

"That one's my favorite," you said as you pushed off the doors. You strode over to the painting Steve had been looking at, brushing past him. You stood between him and the painting, stopping right in front of Steve, almost touching him. But you paid him no mind, eyes locked onto the painting. "Isn't she beautiful?" you asked, clearly referring to the woman in the picture.

"Yes."

You had pushed your hair to one side earlier as you walked through the house in an effort to relieve yourself of some of the heat it held. Now, that choice had left your neck perfectly exposed to feel Steve's breath behind you as he stepped closer. You glanced over your shoulder, catching the meaning of his response.

Steve's hand ghosted over your left hip, eyes glued to the side of your face as they stood there, unmoving.

After a long pause, you finally broke. You turned to face Steve, and his hand snapped into place on your waist, pulling you towards him. Your hands found their way to his chest, lightly fisting his crisp button-up. You were centimeters apart, breathing into each other's mouths. Your eyes drifted up for Steve's lips to meet his eyes.

You glanced back at his mouth before whispering, "You should probably leave."

"Come with me," Steve said, leaning further into you.

You flattened your palms against his chest, pausing his movement. "What?" you laughed.

"Come with me," he repeated. He still held your waist, but now he was fully looking into your eyes, searching for something. "He won't be able to reach you - I can protect you."

You stepped backwards out of his grasp. "Is that what you think you're here for? To save me?"

"Amongst other things." Steve straightened his posture and swallowed.

You scoffed and shook your head. "Get out," you said coldly.

"Y/N, I know -"

"What?" You snapped. "What do you know? You don't know anything about what's going on here. And you definitely don't know anything about me."

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're right," he said, stepping forward and reaching for you again.

"Don't you dare touch me," you spat, and Steve froze in place. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Steve retreated. He looked at you for a moment before heading for the door.

"I'll tell Leo you came by and to give you a call," you said, your eyes not moving from the spot Steve had previously occupied.

Steve stopped at the door, waiting for you to say something, anything else, giving you one last chance to change your mind.

"And Steve," your eyes met again as he reached for the handle. "Don't come back."

[thelovelylolly]

Hi! Happy new year!

Could you do a TBB Hunter x reader where Hunter gets protective and a confession follows?

It’s totally ok if not, no pressure 👍🏽😉

Protective

Summary: You're fed up with how protective Hunter is and when you confront him about it, he tells you why. Warnings: none :) Word Count: 670 Notes: live laugh love protective hunter <3

You joined the Bad Batch after you teamed up with them for a job, and since then, you became really close with everyone. You clicked with them instantly, especially with Hunter. You both were natural leaders and put the rest of the squad before yourselves. It felt easy to talk to him, which led to him being the one you were closest with.

However, one thing that bugged you was how...protective he was. You could understand why he had that habit with the war and running from the Empire, but you had proved yourself very capable before. Yet, he always put you in positions that didn't require being in any fight or putting himself between you and danger.

At first, it was fine. You just followed his orders and if that meant him getting you out of a fight before anyone else, then you listened. But it got annoying as time went on. You wanted to fight, you wanted to protect the squad, but Hunter didn't want you to even get close to danger.

You thought you were being overdramatic about it, but it all boiled over on one job.

Sid had told you all that with the good pay of this job, there was a good amount of danger. Hunter came up with a plan on the flight to the location and once the ship landed, everyone filed out of the ship. You went to follow them, but Hunter stopped you.

"You're staying here," he said, standing between you and the exit.

"What? Why?" You replied, crossing your arms in front of you.

"You heard Sid, it's dangerous-"

"But you're still letting Omega go?" You spat, cutting him off. You took a deep breath, trying not to yell at him. "Listen, I get you just want to keep everyone safe, but this is ridiculous, Hunter! You know I'm more than capable of taking care of myself and holding my own in a fight, but you won't let me go anywhere dangerous, you won't let me stay and fight with you, you won't let me do anything! I wanna pull my weight on this team, which includes fighting alongside you and the rest of the squad, but I can't do that if you keep stopping me!"

Hunter sighed. "Just follow orders-"

"No, I won't! I don't care if I'm being overdramatic right now, but I want you to trust me-"

"It's not that I don't trust you," he cut you off. "I...I don't want to risk losing you."

"What?"

After a beat of silence, he continued. "These past few months with you in the squad have been great, and I enjoy talking to you and spending time with you. You understand me, you and I just work, y'know? I...I love you, okay? I don't want to lose you because I love you."

Your eyes widened at the confession. "You love me?"

Hunter nodded. He could hear your heart beating faster, and he hoped that it was a good thing. He didn't plan on telling you that on this mission, or ever. He didn't want to ruin what he had with you, and with you two being stuck on a ship together with four other people, he didn't want to make things awkward.

You smiled at him. "I love you, too, but you could've just said that instead of keeping me off of missions."

Hunter laughed. "I'm trying to keep you safe, cyar'ika."

You step closer to him, like you were going to kiss him. Your breath hit his lips, his eyes lowering to your lips before meeting your gaze.

"I can handle myself, Hunter. I'm going on the mission," you said softly before teasingly brushing past him and out of the ship.

Hunter felt his face heat up and his heart beat quickly as he watched you walk down the ramp and join the others. You looked over your shoulder at him and winked.

If he didn't die in a fight, you were going to be the death of him.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Bpp my love what do you think about people who bias hoseok (knowing hes one of your faves)

***

It’s a bit weird for me to answer this because then I’d also be talking about myself. But you asked, with an odd but sweet endearment attached, so I’ll try.

Deep down, we're all Type A bitches with a specific kind of kink. No point sugarcoating it. And Hoseok scratches that itch.

Whatever he is, we see it and we're mad for it. We’re all gaga for him and shameless about it.

I mean,

Holy Mary Mother of Christ that is a man who is serving cunt sweet and hot.

Not to be vulgar, it's just hard to talk about Hoseok, to think about the choices he’s made as an artist - the way he quietly supports the team with practical advise, the way he chooses when to use music or dance to communicate his point, the way he balances how severe he is in his beliefs and principles, with the emotional and physical needs and limitations of the team, his very palpable ambition as an artist and the skill he exhibits every time he gets in the booth or steps on a stage… It’s hard to talk about this man without wanting to bite my fist.

But one thing I do want to say before I lose the plot is I’m glad to see how healthy he looked at Yoongi's concert. He looked happy and content, alert and savvy, basically himself. And that made me happy. But with Hoseok, it's not like I really worried for him in the first place. You know? I think other Hoseok biases would agree or at least, know what I mean. Military service comes with specific challenges that I don't doubt he's capable of handling. Though it’s also possible he's not exposed to the most extreme risks, so that could be working in his favour as well.

When I think of Hoseok as a person, his conscientiousness is the first thing that grips my heart. It’s something Hoseok biases recognize instinctively I think. That man cares about the work he does. He cares so much about everything in his life, that sometimes I worry that he could burn out fast. But that care is also one reason he’s become one of the best in the field, at just 10 years into his career.

That care he puts into his work translates so beautifully into his music btw. As a quick experiment, I'd like you to listen to Dionysus.

(This is the extended version from Mama 2019)

What do you think? Have you heard anything that sounds exactly like that, anywhere? Have you ever heard a song that combines punk rock, synth-pop, and acid trap, to express the joy, anguish and momentary insanity an artist experiences when making the effort to create something worthwhile… a song that uses Dionysus - the God of fertility and wine, the patron of the arts, as the central lyrical motif. Do you notice the production choices in the pre-chorus and bridge?

Dionysus is easily one of the best made songs in all of k-pop. In my opinion. And it was made primarily by Jung Hoseok.

Hobi biases see that he’s the kind of person to care a lot. He takes constructive criticism seriously, he wants his craft to be assessed with no bias or favouritism. Just honest, raw, expressions and feedback, that’s one of his primary goals and you can see that in the lyrical and stylistic choices in Jack in the Box.

Hoseok biases see all that in him, and we cream our panties.

That’s the truth don’t lie.

This is going to sound so pretentious but it has be said because it’s true: Hoseok’s cerebral intensity, the way he loses himself inside his work, is such a turn on. I’ve said before that I can see why a lot of people in the fandom underestimate him or don’t really bother to look past the giggly, goofy, sweet and social media savvy Hobi cheerleading the members, but Hobi is the only member who could show up wielding a riding crop and I won’t laugh in his face.

Because we all know, he’d know exactly what to do with it, he’d enjoy pushing you to your limits because that is what he does himself, and that you’d enjoy it.

Hypothetically.

Anyway,

Another reason his conscientiousness matters to me, is because I recognize that for Hobi, the 'work' he loves includes his team. His love for his work boosts my confidence in BTS as a lasting unit. Because Hoseok cares too much about his work to risk losing them, simply because they are so connected to it.

It's so simple with him.

Taking it back to Hoseok biases, we like to act superior, like we're not also sluts for his visuals. We act like we appreciate him in a more holistic sense. But the fact is that we see him, and bark.

I'm just going to come out and say it. I'm proof. I barked. On reflex. I don't know how it happened exactly, but I saw this pic one Friday afternoon and the sound that left my mouth certainly wasn't human.

Generally and maybe hypothetically speaking here, toys are nice and all, but completely unnecessary when Hoseok exists and you’ve allowed yourself to be chosen by him. His music, his person, seeing him in his element is all it takes.

I mean…

The details… Sheesh.

*

Everything about Hoseok and his sense of style is a gag.

He’s just always, so Effortlessly himself.

*

….two fingers would be enough. Just saying. Two fingers would do the job.

*

He's too smooth for his own good.

*

Some people somehow forget this happened and well, now I'm reminding them. Look at him, really look at him... isn't he perfect?

*

This isn’t a hot pic but it’s one of my favourites of him. This is the only pic in this post from my top 30 Hobi pics. Enjoy.

*

When he does cute it's a very particular type of cute.

*

…

*

I miss Hobi.

This doesn't happen often, but sometimes I wish time didn't exist for a while and we could be in 2026 now. We'd get to see Hoseok 3.0 and my god will that be a sight. Their performances are already god-tier even in hiatus (thank God for those three encore concerts that showcased the active members in their element), so imagine how unrestrained they will be, how epic their performances will be then.

If there’s one thing I’m nearly certain about with BTS, it’s that the wait will always be worth it. And a big reason I can say that is because the team has Jung Hoseok.

I just hope Hobi biases can keep our shit together till then because heaven knows we’re…

You know.

Stream Jack in the Box, put an order in for your box set version if you haven’t gotten around to doing that yet, get yourself your caffeinated drug of choice (mine today is a flat white with whole milk. I’m not really an Americano gal), and enjoy Chapter 2.

[aceri1485]

Fired (Pt. 2)

Pt 1 here!

Xiumin x Reader

key words: backstage, concert, stage hand, smut (18+, read at own risk — consensual, oral (male receiving), unprotected), fluff (does this count as fluff?), slow burn

authors note: uhh merry christmas I guess haha (1) this is purely fiction, please don’t be delusional and no I don’t think this would ever happen irl (2) protagonist (ie. the reader) gender is ambiguous on purpose, I want anyone to be able to read this and enjoy (3) I'm enjoying writing this more than I was expecting, soooo maybe part 3???

-----

"Hellooo - can you hear me?" your radio crackles from your waistband.

You stifle a yawn before grabbing your radio to reply, "Yes, I'm here! Sorry! I'm on my way."

"Oh good - thank you!" You hear the relief in Sam's voice, "Come find me when you're done!"

"Will do" you reply, then turn your attention back to the makeup artist, Jose, who had been talking your ear off for nearly 15 minutes before Sam's radio message interrupted you.

"Oh - I guess you have to go," Jose blushes, "I'm sorry, I know you must be busy, I just - nobody has really asked us what we..."

"What you need to do your job?" you finish the sentence, smiling gently at Jose, "I'm sorry if it seems like we haven't been paying attention to you before, the stage hands have been a little short staffed at the other concerts."

"No - no, that's not what I.." Jose blushed even more, "I didn't mean to imply you weren't doing your job before, I'm trying to say... I'm saying that I appreciate how hard you are working now and that I am grateful we have someone like you to support us."

You blink, surprised, and feel your own cheeks and ears getting hot. It was true - you had been working hard since Sam promoted you. That was three shows ago now, and while the team had been saying thank you, you hadn't truly felt like your extra effort had been noticed or appreciated.

Your radio crackles again, another staff member asking for Sam's approval on some other matter, bringing your attention back.

"I will do my best to get you what you need." you say to Jose, before going to run to your next task. You stop, though, and gently put your hand on Jose's, "and... thanks."

Jose locks eyes with you and smiles, "No, thank you - I'll see you later?"

You smile back, "See you later!"

Now you turn and jog down the hall, off to meet with one of the stylists for an emergency clothing shopping spree, but not before you catch sight of an achingly familiar figure passing across the hall in front of you.

Your body has an involuntary response, the blush in your cheeks deepening, but you force your mind not to wander and focus on the task at hand.

Arriving at the backstage door, you are surprised to find not only the stylist, but a manager and a tall man in a bucket hat and mask waiting for you. They greet you, smiling, as you head out the door together.

"Mr. Park - why are you coming with us?" you ask, smiling as his eyes widen in surprise, "What - you didn't think that so-called disguise is going to fool anyone, did you?" you laugh.

While it was true that you had come to know the members more and more since you had been working as a part of their core team over the past month, it was also true that anyone who had ever seen even a bad drawing of Chanyeol before would recognize him now.

"Hey, it's better than nothing!" Chanyeol shoots back as you hold the car door open for him. He slides in and you close the door, running around to get in on the other side. Luckily, the concert is still hours away, and any fans that are already lurking around are all at the entrance to the arena.

The last time one of the members had tried to join an outing like this before a concert, the police had to be called to stop fans from blocking the backstage door to let them get back inside the venue. So long as nobody knew Chanyeol was gone, nobody would be desperate enough to stake out the door to try and see him when you go back this time.

"I had to come so I can try on whatever we pick out," Chanyeol says as you buckle your seatbelts, "I didn't want to, I know how complicated it could get if someone sees me."

"Don't lie!" the stylist laughs from the front seat, "I told you I would bring back different sizes for you to try!"

"Yeah," the manager chimes in from the front seat, "I distinctly remember the conversation going something along the lines of "ahh I'm so bored, when will I ever-" hey, put that back on!" he cuts off as Chanyeol throws his bucket hat at him, "and be careful, I'm driving!"

Any tension the team had about a last minute outing melts away as you laugh, and the conversation turns to finding a good place to pick up coffee near the store the stylist wants to go to. As Chanyeol and the manager debate whether the members need coffee before a show, you pull out your phone to message Sam that you are on your way.

Distracted for a few minutes as you message back and forth with various team members, each putting in coffee requests or asking you to grab this or that, your attention gets pulled back to the conversation when you hear Xiumin's name.

Looking up, you see that Chanyeol was watching you. He smiles at you, too knowingly, and says "Sam would know, I think Xiumin told her after the last show."

"What was that?" you ask, trying to keep your expression clear, and looking anywhere but Chanyeol's face.

"Did he say something about his shoes being too big last show?" the stylist asked, not noticing - or pretending not to notice - the large grin on Chanyeol's face as he looked at you.

"Oh, no - the shoes fit fine," you say, "they needed new laces, the old ones were frayed and so they weren't staying tied" you explain, looking out the window in what you hoped was a non-chalant manner.

"Lets add laces to the list then," the stylist adds, "How could I have missed that? You're a life saver, thank you!"

"Don't mention it," you say, "And I already picked up some extra laces.. and changed out the old ones in Xiumin's shoes."

"When did you have time to do that?" the stylist turns to look at you.

"Oh, I... stayed late after the last show." you mumble, refusing to look at anyone in the car.

The stylist smiles, "You work way too hard, you know that?" laughing as they turn back in their seat, "I hope you know we all appreciate it!"

You're grateful that you can blame your blush on receiving your second compliment of the day rather than the thoughts of why you had really stayed so late after the last show.

It was the first time you and Xiumin had been able to be truly alone since... well, since that first night.

"Are you cold?" he asks, the corners of his eyes creased with concern, "Here, put this on."

He pulls off his jean jacket to wrap around your shoulders. The streetlight casts shadows of your sillouettes infront of you as you walk- a shadow couple, picture perfect, other worldly. You smile in thanks, pulling the jacket closer around you. It had to be nearly 3am already, the two of you had stayed at the arena talking for hours after the everyone else had left.

Your arms brush together as you walk, Xiumin's hands shoved into his pockets, a blush forming on his cheeks where his face is visible behind his black facemask, matching the pink tinge of your ears. Your shadows bump into eachother, at times overlapping, rarely a gap between them.

You both realize the hotel is less than half a block away at the same time and it's like you're suddenly walking in molasses. Your shadows crawl along the sidewalk ahead of you, shrinking into one another then growing full again as you pass between one streetlight to another.

At the door of the hotel, you both stop, not making eye contact with each other.

"Do you want-"

"Maybe another-"

You start speaking at the same time, turning to look at each other, breaking off just as quickly and turning away again, flushing.

"You f-"

"What did yo-"

And the tension breaks, both of you laughing.

"You go" you say, marvelling at the way the light streaming out from the hotel windows makes his eyes sparkle. You longed to pull off his mask so you could see how the light would catch on the rest of his face, with its simultaneously sharp angles and soft edges.

He won't look at you, instead staring at your shoes, but his hands come up and hold your elbows, "Maybe another... another lap around the block?" he asks.

You stop yourself from sighing in relief, anything to make the night last longer, just another few minutes-

You're pulled away from your thoughts by Chanyeol waving his hand in front of your face “Helloooo?"

You’ve arrived at a small shopping area and the manager is bragging about his great parking job.

"Oh, sorry," you smile, "I was just trying to - uh - remember everyone's coffee orders."

The stylist and manager hurry to usher Chanyeol into a store across the street, leaving you to actually try and remember everyone's coffee orders, entering a small cafe. It isn't busy, thankfully, but you apologize to the barista for the number of drinks you order nonetheless.

"Two iced americanos, 4 hot americanos, one vanilla latte..." you prattle off almost a dozen drinks and pay, "Sorry again - is it just you working today?"

"Yes, just me, but don't apologize!" the barista smiles at you, "I love a bit of a challenge."

"How so?" You ask, making small talk as they start working on the drinks.

"Oh, I love to see if I can pull double shots, or pour milk with one hand while steaming another round" the barista laughs, "like rubbing my head and patting my stomach... or is it the other way around?"

Both laughing, you keep chatting, realizing you have a similar taste in music when the song playing in the cafe changes, comparing your favourite types of teas and the best place to go for kimbap in the neighbourhood.

The barista smiles shyly, tucking their hair behind their ear, as you watch them work on the last drink, "Could I maybe get your..."

They trail off as Chanyeol bursts through the door, a whirlwind of energy not at all contained by his large frame, the manager close behind him.

"Almost ready?" the manager asks you and you nod, greeting them both before turning back to the barista.

"What were you saying?" you ask as they slide the last drink to you over the counter.

"Oh, its nothing!" they look flustered, clearly recognizing Chanyeol, who is now waiting by the register to order, "But - uh - if you're ever in the neighbourhood again, you should stop by. I'll make you one on the house," they say, recovering a bit and turning their attention back to you.

"Oh, I-" you break off as Chanyeol pointedly clears his throat and looks at his watch. The barista nods to you and hurries back over to the register to take Chanyeol's order.

Sighing, you slump into a seat across from the manager, the drinks you ordered filling the table in front of you. It turns out that Chanyeol had been accepting orders from the members while you were collecting orders for the staff and so the barista gets to work preparing another 9 drinks.

“We’d better hurry back after this,” the manager says, anxious, “Of course the big oaf gets recognized...”

-----

There are still 3 hours to showtime after you finish distributing coffee to the other stage hands, but there is still a never ending list of tasks waiting for you all before the show can start.

The crew and dancers walk through an entire sound and lighting check, one of the stylists has to be taken to the hospital for stitches after a mishap with a sewing needle, and Sehun’s earpiece has gone missing.

That’s how you find yourself in a back closet the crew was using as temporary storage, surrounded by boxes full of extra props and pieces of audio equipment. Your back to the door, bent at the waist to dig in the bottom of a particularly large box, you hear rather than see someone enter the closet behind you, just as-

“YES! It’s here!” You say triumphantly, shooting your hand into the air, clutching the small box containing Sehun’s earpiece.

Sighing in relief that there was at least one problem solved, you freeze when you hear the reply from behind you.

“What did you find?” Chanyeol says.

You turn around in an instant, surprise clear on your face, “Chan- I mean, Mr. Park? Sorry, I though you were Sam.”

He smiles and holds up his hands, “Just me - sorry to disappoint.”

“What are you doing here?” You ask, slightly anxious, “Did something else happen?”

“Something else?” He asks, confused, “Is there a problem?”

You bite your lip, cursing to yourself that you forgot how the staff tried their best to hide small issues from the members before the shows so they could focus on getting ready.

Forcing a smile, you say and hold up the box again, “No, not anymore - we’re good! What do you need?”

“Oh, I was.. I was hoping to talk to you actually” he says, trying to catch your eye to gauge your response.

Oh god, not now! You think to yourself, I don’t have time for this right now - actually, I don’t have time for this ever, I can’t loose this job!

“If this is.. what I think it is, then..” you take a deep breath and meet his gaze, “it’s not what it-“

“Looks like?” he finishes your sentence for you, giving you a hard look.

You set your jaw.

Chanyeol sighs, his shoulders relaxing, breaking eye contact and half turning away, “That’s too bad then. Because it looks like Xiumin is happier than I’ve seen him in years.”

Your jaw falls open.

Chanyeol turns to leave, then pauses with his hand on the closet door. “I just wanted to say..” he looks back at you over his shoulder, “He’s serious about you, about continuing whatever this “doesn’t look like” after the tour, and I hope.. I hope you don’t hurt him. I saw the way you were with that barista, and don’t pretend you don’t see how Jose looks at you.”

The elevator dings, but neither of you move to get off it. Instead, you both stand at the door, looking out down to the end of the hall.

The door slides shut, and you didn’t get off.

“I’ll just.. take you up to your room first.” You say, looking down at your shoes, hands clutching the hem Xiumin’s jean jacket still draped over your shoulders.

“Okay.. thanks.” He says, voice low. The elevator continues up, and his hand finds yours, pulling your grip from his jacket to intertwine your fingers.

The elevator dings again, but still neither of you move to get off, until the door starts to slide shut again. Xiumin puts out a hand to stop it, his other still holding yours.

Holding the door open, he steps off, but as you go to draw your hand away, he holds on even tighter, pulling you off the elevator with him.

“Xiumin...” you whisper, fully aware that the other members and the managers are staying on this floor as well, digging in your heels a bit to stop him from pulling you further down the hall as the elevator doors slide shut behind you.

He stops, but doesn’t look back at you. Instead, you feel his hand squeeze yours, and he whispers back “…please”.

You couldn’t have stood there more than 30 seconds after Chanyeol left but it felt more like a whole day before you shook it off. Gathering yourself again to the task at hand, you try not to think about how Chanyeol’s voice broke, “I hope you don’t hurt him.”

Radioing ahead to let Sam know you found Sehun’s earpiece, you practically sprint out of the closet.

Handing over the box to one of the managers, you remember the items Jose had asked you for earlier in the day and go to collect what you can.

It’s an hour to the show by the time you’re able to stop by the dressing room and check in with Jose after being sidetracked by different problems and tasks. You knock and enter the the dressing room after hearing Jose yell “Come in!”

You push open the door, balancing a small box full of different things Jose had asked for - a fresh lightbulb for the mirror, a new package of makeup wipes, spray bottle with water - and enter the room.

You quickly scan the room, taking in the manager sitting on the couch engaged in a phone call, Baekhyun holding up two shirts in front of a mirror while two stylists argue over which colour to go for and Chen sitting in front of the makeup mirrors while another stylist attacked his hair with a brush and gel.

But your heart doesn’t jump up into your throat until your eyes land on the one man you were hoping to find here. He’s sitting in front of the makeup mirror beside Chen, eyes closed as Jose attempts to dab some slightly glittery eye shadow on him without getting glitter everywhere else.

“Oh my GOD, you’re the best!” Jose says, seeing what you’re carrying, and Xiumin opens his eyes, “Xiumin, don’t you agree?” Jose grabs the box from you to push onto the counter infront of Xiumin, “I asked for all this this morning, I can’t believe you remembered everything!”

Looking at you in the mirror, Xiumin smiles “Yes.. you’re the best” he says quietly.

The subtext is thankfully lost on Jose who playfully smacks him on the arm, “I asked if you agreed but I did not say that you could open your eyes!”

You and Jose chat for a bit, Jose fluttering around Xiumin and Chen, finishing both of their makeup, while Chen and Xiumin start their own conversation. Baekhyun joins in a third chair, the stylists finally having come to a compromise and finding a completely different third shirt for him to wear.

Sounds of the crowd filing into the arena filter in, growing louder as the time passes. Down the hall, you hear the staff laughing in the common area, many of them trying to eat a quick dinner before the show starts.

Soon Sam checks in with you over your radio and you go to pop your head into the other dressing rooms, giving the 15 minute warning and checking that nobody needs anything last minute.

Another stage hand comes by to usher the members to the stage. You follow behind them in the hallway, trying to stay out of the way of dancers rushing to get to the stage and makeup artists trying to apply last minute touch ups to the members.

In the chaos, you find yourself beside Xiumin for a couple of seconds, just long enough for him to look at you and smile, your hands to brush and a wave of goose bumps to rush down your spine. With his makeup done, contacts in and his shirt unbuttoned like that, he is breathtakingly beautiful. Then he’s gone, carried forward by the wave of commotion heading toward the stage, toward the rising sound of cheers - no, screams - and the swell of the music.

You gasp, finally coming up for air, the rise and fall of your breath matching his, like two people who were underwater for too long. He meets your eyes, a low moan falling from his lips.

“Please, baby” he breathes out, “Please keep going.”

You blow cool air on his cock, moving your hand up and down, tantalizingly slow, enjoying the way his hips squirm as he tries to increase the friction and the way the storm in his eyes builds. One of his hands brushes your hair away from your eyes, gently. But the other grasps the sheets of the bed, muscles in his forearms taught and the veins in his hand jumping up, like he’s holding back the ocean with one hand.

You place your hand over his, releasing his grip on the sheets and intertwining your fingers at the same time as you lower your mouth back around his cock. He can’t hold back the loud gasp, or help the way his hips buck. The hand that one second ago was so tenderly brushing back your hair now pushes your head down.

Saliva fills your mouth as you try not to gag, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can with each push down of his hand. His fingers tangle in your hair as he guides you. You suck and swirl your tongue, glancing up at him every now and then. He can’t look away from you, he’s transfixed. It fuels your own arousal, and you move one hand down to touch yourself. Your other hand is still holding his, two drowning people clasping onto each other like a lifeline.

“Shit, I’m-“ he says, hips bucking again, “Fuck, don’t stop..”

Your name, mixed in with a string of curse words, falls from his mouth as he gasps for air, his voice deep and breathy at the same time. His hand leaves your hair, flying up behind him to hold on to the headboard. You pick up the pace, abandoning your own pleasure to pump him with your hand lower down his shaft while your use your mouth at his tip.

The wave crashes down and with low yell he releases. You swallow, continuing to work him until he gasps and pulls your head away. Then he pulls you up into a deep, long kiss, and you sigh, relaxing into it, relaxing into him. When you break apart, you pull the cover up over you both and rest your head on his shoulder. He kisses you on the forehead, mumbling something about the time and his alarm going off in a couple hours. Holding each other close, your breathing deep and again in sync, you fall asleep. Faint sunlight breaks through the crack in the curtain at the foot of the bed.

An hour later, the sunlight wakes you up, hitting you in the face. Now strong and bright, it had crept up the bed until it hit you square in the eye. Xiumin still sleeps beside you, his hair falling across his forehead, relaxed and blissfully protected from the sun.

A few moments later, you are closing the door as quietly as possible behind you, dressed but holding your shoes in your hands, ready to tiptoe to the elevator. The door closes and you turn, freezing in place, eyes locked on Chanyeol standing in an open doorway across the hall.

END (P3 maybe?)

[thehaniverse]

[24.05.19] Haikyuu Movie Review

FINALLY!

I initially thought I'd be able to watch the movie online when it dropped back in February, but none of the usual suspects were uploading the damn movie, so I was dying trying to avoid spoilers online, but I'm glad I managed to until it was finally revealed to be showing in Korea!

Let me tell you, as a multilingual person, there is no bigger brain-fuck than watch a movie in a second language with subtitles in your third, but considering Haikyuu is my favourite anime of all time, I just couldn't wait anymore.

So, after such an arduous wait, was the movie actually worth it?

HELL YEAH!

Heads up, I've written this without any spoilers, as I also went into this without reading the manga (intentionally.)

Intially, I, like many other fans, was disappointed that the movie was ,in fact, a movie rather than a 5th season, but after watching it, I totally understand why they decided to do it this way. If they'd done it as a series of episodes, it ran the risk of being too slow-paced, which was one of the major criticisms of the 4th season.

The pacing of the movie was perfect - the right level of slow emotional flashbacks to add context without being too repetitive of past seasons, while still being fast-paced and action-packed throughout the game.

I also loved the unique perspective they gave in this movie, it's something they've never done to this extent throughout the anime, and honestly, something I haven't seen in other anime I've watched. The chaotic energy really made you feel like you were more than just a spectator and the disorientation made everything so much more tense - I LOVED it. (I honestly wanted to watch the whole movie again there and then just to experience that part again.)

One thing I've always loved about Haikyuu is the ability of the writer to make you appreciate just how hard these kids are working, and the background and character growth throughout the movie honestly left me teary-eyed at the end - the character development continues to be one of my favorite parts of this anime. There's honestly so much I want to say about this but due to spoilers, I'll have to hold back for a while until the screenings have taken place worldwide. Maybe I'll write a part 2 after additional viewings.

Finally, let's talk about the ending. Man. This was an interesting experience for me because Nekoma is actually my favorite team LOL but of course, as viewers, we can't help but root for Karasuno. Every point and every play was bittersweet but nothing hit as much as the ending, rather than any overwhelming sense of joy for the winner, it was more that sinking feeling of 'oh, it's really over? Just like that?" I imagine this is how the losing time would feel in every game, you always want to believe there's another chance, or that the end isn't really the end yet, it was very surreal.

The best parallel I can draw is the sinking feeling I had when Karasuno first lost to Aoba Josei. Yet at the same time, because of the growth of all the characters, it was still a beautiful ending.

Ultimately, it was everything you'd expect from Haikyuu, I laughed, I cried, I fought back screams in the theatre XD I really do want to reassure anyone who thinks the movie replacing a season will be lackluster - it was anything but! I hope you enjoy the viewing and I'd love to hear your thoughts after.

[moohnshinescorner]

NEW RELEASE & BOOK REVIEW

Walk of Shame by Avery Flynn is now live! 

One night. No strings. And a really good puck.

Five years ago, Astrid O’Malley experienced the ultimate in public humiliation. Being dumped at the altar by her childhood sweetheart was horrifying enough. That fact that he was a professional hockey goalie and her dad was his coach? It was all anyone in sports could talk about.

Eff hockey. Eff goalies.

These days, Astrid lives a life (mostly) free of hockey and free to pursue whoever she wants with exactly zero shame in her game. Like tonight’s hook-up. This guy’s nailed the lumberjack aesthetic perfectly. Especially when he has the stamina and creativity to back it up.

Because the rule is: it’s one night only. Which is gonna be a problem because she’s just discovered he lives in the apartment upstairs.

And he’s joined her dad’s team. As the goalie coach. To train her ex.

Now Astrid is in some kind of hockey hell–filled with her ex, her family, and the best sex of her life. And somehow she’s been roped back onto the team.

Puck my life.

  Download today on Amazon, Apple Books, Audible, Barnes & Noble, Google Play, Kindle Unlimited, and Kobo!

Amazon: https://bit.ly/47to9Vm

Apple Books: https://bit.ly/3ROYL6N

Nook: https://bit.ly/48uIrPQ

Kobo: https://bit.ly/47v8Vz6

Google Play: https://bit.ly/47s2zAM

Audible:https://adbl.co/49oHmsI

Narrated by: Robert Hatchet & Savannah Peachwood

Add to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3tQ2mth

WALK OF SHAME BY AVERY FLYNN

BOOK REVIEW

Wow Astrid is the pro at the "Walk of Shame", having done it a few times in this book. I felt sorry for her in the beginning of the book as her world crumbles around her. Giving up on everything that she loved to try and forget the past is a horrible way to deal with it. Giving Cal her last bag of Cheetos was the best thing she could have done, as this gave fate the opening she needed to change her life.

Cal's career is over and he will do anything to get back on the ice even as a coach. Jumping on the chance to have a shot at doing what he loves most, hockey. But when a one night stand turns into someone forbidden, the risk at losing everything is too great to take a chance.

This romantic comedy is full of whit and sarcasm that will have you laughing your butt off. But it also has a serious side that will make you feel for the characters and the troubles they encounter. It also has some really dirty scenes if you know what I mean. "wink, wink" Together all these things make for a truly amazing and fun read that is sure to provide you with hours of entertainment. The characters are amazing and strong and also includes cameos of past characters from other books the author has written. This adds an authenticity to her books, making them feel real and connected.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book and loved the comedic way the story is told. I love Avery Flynn and have read about 90% of her books starting with Muffin Top. Each book has a heroine who suffers at some time or another in her life, then meets a wonderful guy who will bring her walls down and show her the true meaning of happiness. This book is no different and I cannot wait to read more.

[thewanderingace]

Each Ted Lasso episode just making me smile so much my face hurts while also making me cry because of all the various feels I get about these characters and storylines. God I fucking I love this show

[storiesofsvu]

A Dangerous Game Ch 20

Emily Pretiss x reader warnings: language, hurt/comfort, smut. I wont lie, this ch lowkey feels like it *could* be the last one, but it is not. There is still more coming, don't worry.

As you slowly recovered from your exhaustion and hangover over the weekend you’d started to toy with the idea of what Garcia had been saying on Saturday. You were rather hesitant, very unconvinced about the entire thing, sure maybe Emily had kicked you off the case because of Dewald and not your little field trip, but everything after that still made sense. You had acted out of line, pushed the boundaries and you knew she wouldn’t risk her career over it, if the tables were turned you would’ve felt and likely done the same. You could only hope that your professional relationship could start to be salvaged now that Dewald was behind bars.

Your nerves were on high alert as you pulled into the BAU on Monday, only relaxing after a couple of hours when Rossi addressed the team saying Emily was in conference meetings all day and wouldn’t be around unless there was a case. If anyone had any questions, to direct them his way in the meantime. So you kept your head down, did your work while trying to avoid Penelope’s eager glances and picked at the sandwich Derek wordlessly dropped on you desk at lunch.

“Wilson.” Rossi’s voice pulled your attention mid afternoon, glancing up from your paperwork.

“Yeah?”

“Jensen’s lawyer just called; he’s willing to talk but only to you.”

“When and where?”

“He’s at the tombs, and now.” He dropped a memo onto your desk, “once you’re done you can call it day.”

“Thanks.”

Your meeting over at the tombs was nothing to write home about, sending off an email back to Rossi with an update as you chatted with the lawyer on the way out. Jensen had been moved back into the main holding cell along with the other inmates awaiting transfer before you’d managed to be beeped through the doors, having to still walk past said cell.

“Agent Wilson…” A low chuckle came from your side and you turned to the bars, your brow cocked, seeing Dewald on the other side, “can’t say I expected to see you here.”

“What can I say?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, “just because I didn’t get the chance to take you down doesn’t mean I suck at my job.”

“Maybe that’s what you think, but that unit chief of yours sure does.” He shot back with a grin and you didn’t flinch, only rolling your eyes. “shame it turns out you’re one of them rug munchers, I could’ve shown you such a good time.”

“Yeah, right.” You laughed, turning away from him.

“Even bigger shame that’s all you ever were to her.” He gloated, “I was so eager to take her little princess from her, show her what it’s like to have someone destroy the person you care about most. But you… you were just a notch in a bedpost. God I woulda had such fun with you, I just know how pretty you would look all fileted and on display for her to find.”

“Goodnight Dewald.” You jeered, “enjoy your life sentence.”

With a scoff and another eye roll, you felt the lawyer squeeze at your elbow, making sure you were okay and you shook them off, reminding them once you were on the other side of the door that you had heard far worse in the field. Though you couldn’t help but wonder about his words on your drive back to Alexandria.

**

Emily hated conference meeting days, they were somehow always more draining than being out in the field chasing unsubs. The politics of the job was what drove her the most insane and she was very much looking forward to getting home, ordering take out and enjoying a large glass of wine. Who cared that it was only Monday, she wanted it and knew it would help her relax.

The elevator pinged and she let out a soft sigh, stepping through the sliding doors, her keys jingling in her hand while she fingered through them for the apartment key. As she rounded the corner she faltered in her steps at the sight of someone sitting beside her apartment door and it was only when you looked up that she even realized it was you.

“Oh…” The word was whispered when it left her lips her heart sinking into her stomach at just how run down you looked, how it had only been just over two weeks but she could already see the bagginess of your usually form fitted clothes. It took her a moment to find her voice but she did manage to speak before you did, “what… what’re you doing here?”

“Don’t worry.” You huffed, “Dewald got shanked in the tombs an hour ago, dead man can’t come for me.” She moved toward you and you pushed up to standing with a quiet groan, wincing at your stiffened joints. “Why didn’t you tell me I was being targeted?”

“I—” her shoulder sagged as she sighed, nodding toward the door as she moved around you, “come in?”

The moment you were through the door Sergio let out a loud meow, jumping on you and you barely managed to scoop him up into your arms.

“Hey buddy.” You greeted with a small laugh and the smile on your cheeks warmed Emily’s heart as she locked the door behind her. While you were distracted with Sergio she slipped passed you, tossing her coat over a chair to pull down two glasses, filling them with wine. You’d wandered down the entry hall, Serg still in your arms as he nuzzled into your cheek purring loudly before starting to lick at your face. “Okay, okay, I missed you too.” You left a kiss on the top of his head and Emily cleared her throat, pulling you back to the present, a hesitant look on her face as she slid a glass of wine in your direction.

“I”—

“Before.. this starts, is the bug still here? Because I don’t need Garcia overhearing anything else.” You winced.

“You know about that?”

“I’ve been looped in on a few things.” You replied sheepishly and she let out a soft sigh, her eyes closing for a moment before she looked up at you.

“I destroyed it this morning.” She took a rather large sip of wine, “what… all do you know?”

“I’m not really sure.” You shrugged, wrapping an arm around your middle, “and I didn’t really believe it until I heard it from Dewald himself.” Your eyes flicked up to her, “why not say anything?”

“You… you have this…” she tugged her lower lip into her mouth, chewing on it for a moment while she tried to string the words together, “dangerous fire in you that.. certain agents.. seem to have. I figured that there was a pretty high chance you’d try to take care of things on your own, without the help of the team. I didn’t want you getting hurt… or worse.”

“Hmm.” You surveyed her for a moment, as if trying to figure out if what she was saying was true before reaching out for the glass of wine she’d offered and taking a sip. She let out a breath she’d been holding, the wine was a peace offering and the fact that you’d taken it gave her the relief that you hopefully weren’t going to storm out of there in another minute. “I keep hearing things about a cat? I’m assuming that’s linked to the shelter?”

“The last morning I left your house, I found it mutilated on your doorstep. I knew in that moment I had to take you off the case. He’d been listening to us since that night at Rossi’s, and was watching us every Friday, sitting outside my apartment for hours.” She let out a shaky breath, she hated that she’d had to do all of this, and reliving it wasn’t any easier, “it was my fault he had access to you so quickly.”

“What’d you mean?” Your brow furrowed while you took another sip and she let out a sigh.

“I found the bug; I panicked but I still wanted to see you that night so I rerouted to your place but he was sitting outside. I stupidly lead him right to you without even fucking realizing it. I knew that I had to try to right my wrong, I wanted you to come out of this alive. Believe me… I didn’t want to push you away, I spent the week searching for a case that I could assign to half the team, one that would get you out of state as long as possible to give me the time to catch the bastard. I sent you to Seattle so he couldn’t find you, if I had known that bitch Skylar was there I never would have assigned it to you. I’m so, so sorry. I wanted you here…” her voice began to shake, doing her best not to let it break, “I wanted you with me. I never wanted to lose you like that… like… this…”

You gulped, ducking your gaze as you distracted yourself with a heavy sip of wine, letting her words sink in as the profiler side of your brain started to read between them, figure out how to respond. It was almost as if Sergio could sense the wariness wafting off you, leaping up onto the counter to settle in front of you, nudging at your hand again until you were scratching  him behind the ears, your eyes downcast.

“And the… rest? Did you really mean all that? Or was it just for show, to get Dewald off my back and keep me away from you? So I didn’t like… try to win you back or something, better to make me think you hated me. Or… do you really think I’m… worthless?”

You finally looked up and the blurring of tears in your eyes was met with a very similar misting in Emily’s eyes, her entire being wilting knowing how much hurt she had caused, how these certainly weren’t the first tears you’d shed over her and what she’d done.

“No, no…” she shook her head, stepping towards you as she fought the urge to pull you into her arms, deciding instead that a hand rested on your shoulder to test the waters was enough, “are you kidding me? I want to fight anyone who has ever made you feel insignificant, even if it means I need to start with myself.” Her hand trailed down your arm, tempted to catch yours in hers but she felt a tear rolling over her cheek, quickly swiping it away, “because you are so far from that. You are a wonder, you’re…. fucking sunshine on a gloomy day and I know there is probably a better way to do all of this but I really, really hope you’ll let me have a second chance because the only thing I’ve wanted over the past two weeks has been you…” She had to pause to wipe away another tear, “I hated myself probably as much as you hate me, and I know I will never be able to apologize enough for doing what I did. So I’ll understand if you want absolutely nothing to do with me anymore.”

You took a shuddering breath, your hand coming up to cover your mouth and Emily watched as your eyes flicked down towards the door and she was certain you were about to walk out of her apartment once again. Instead you looked back at her, tears finally slipping over your cheeks as you spoke,

“But that’s the thing…. I don’t.” She felt her heart drop in her chest, her face falling as regret began to worm its way through her veins, “because I want everything to do with you.”

She couldn’t help it, and honestly neither could you as soon as you saw the movement out of the corner of your eye you stepped toward her, closing the gap as her arms wound tightly around you and yours looped around her shoulders, tucking your head into the crook of her neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter how much pain I was in, how much I thought you hated me. I missed you every single day. Every time I was upset, I’d pick up my phone wanting to text you, to ask about ice cream and movies, or too much wine…” You shifted back just far enough so that you could see her face, sighing at the warmth of her hand gently rubbing your side, “all I ever wanted was you.”

Emily’s hand came up to your cheek, tenderly cupping your face while her thumb swiped away a few stray tears, her own still slipping down her face.

“There wasn’t a moment that went by I wasn’t thinking about you.” She whispered before her eyes darted between your eyes and your lips. In an attempt to resist herself she let out a soft sigh, leaning forward so her forehead was resting against yours, her eyes fluttering shut, “I’m sorry…”

She could feel your breath on her face, the warmth as you grew closer, your lips nearly hovering against hers, unsure of whether you should close the gap and she took the chance, inching forward to brush her lips with yours. The first one was brief, testing the waters before your arms tightened around her, body relaxing against hers and she pulled away a fraction of an inch.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.. absolutely yes.” You breathed back, you’d been aching for her touch for weeks, and the feeling of her lips back on yours was enough to make your heart burst. “God I missed you, so much.” You murmured before your lips met hers once more.

“M’sorry.” She replied, kissing you softly, her hand gliding across your cheek to thread through your hair, cupping the back of your head, “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” Your lips parted, urging her togue to slip into your mouth, letting out a small groan when she finally did, tongues dancing with grace in a routine that would never be forgotten. Your hands dropped to her waist, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, a tiny gasp escaping her lips into the kiss at the feeling of your hands tickling at her skin.

“May as well start now.”

The little gleam in your eye as you spoke was all Emily needed to surge back towards you, meeting your lips with more passion this time as her arms wrapped tighter around your hips, slowly backing you into the bedroom. Her tongue slid back into your mouth in the same moment her fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt, only breaking the kiss to pull the offending fabric over your head. Your hands worked on undoing the buttons of her shirt while she pulled you back to her for another kiss, lips moving with grace before she let her shirt drop down her arms.

Hands began to explore the newly exposed skin, roaming slowly to memorize every inch as they got reacquainted. You couldn’t help but shiver as her fingers ghosted over your skin, whining into the kiss as you clutched tighter to her, eager to feel her body warm against yours again. She very reluctantly broke the kiss, practically panting as she gazed at you for a moment, her hand coming up to caress your cheek.

“You are so incredibly beautiful.” She murmured, thumb stroking over your cheek, “just absolutely perfect.”

Leaning back toward you her lips ghosted across your jaw, nipping at your earlobe while her hands made quick work of your bra. You mirrored her movements, getting rid of hers as well, a quiet moan leaving you when her teeth scraped against your neck as her hands cupped your chest. She caressed you while her lips made home in the crook of your neck, backing you slowly to the bed. When the back of your knees hit it you pulled her down with you, your lips finding hers again in a deep kiss. Hands slipped into waistbands, pulling off pants and underwear until you were finally bare against each other again.

Emily softly nudged your legs apart, her hands tickling at your inner thighs while you chased her lips for another kiss, whining as her fingers got closer and closer to where you’d been aching for them. She wasn’t about to tease tonight, eager to feel you again, to watch you come undone with a simple touch of her hand, to taste you on her lips again while your warmth fluttered around her fingers.

And that’s exactly what she did.

Her hands and lips explored your body, not leaving a single inch of skin untouched. When she wasn’t praising you, telling you how well you were doing, how gorgeous you were, how sweet you tasted, it was her actions guiding all of the unspoken words. It was unrushed, there was no desire to hurry to your peaks, you both simply wanted to memorize each other, the way everything felt, the noises you could pull from each other, how good the other person made you feel.

Emily’s lips found yours once again in a breathless kiss, her eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your fingers lazily pumping inside her, matching the pace she was fucking you, hips rolling into the touch. You sucked at her togue, moaning over the taste of you in her mouth, free hand encouraging her hips to thrust faster onto you. You felt the pleasure building within you, little whines escaping your lips that she swallowed down into her lungs, wanting to breathe every ounce of you in. Her fingers picked up the pace as quiet swears left her lips, knowing she was getting close and it was in the same moment that both of you hit your highs, legs shaking around the other as you cried out.

Breathing heavily, your eyes flickered open and Emily’s hand came up to brush your hair off your face, a soft smile on her lips. She leant in, leaving a feather light kiss on your lips that you couldn’t help but smile into. Rolling onto her back she urged you to curl around her, shifting the blankets over your bodies as you settled on her chest. Kissing the top of your head her arm wound around you while the other ghosted up and down your back. You were both quiet for some time, simply relishing in the feeling of being in each other’s arms again while your breathing regulated and you began to come back to earth. If it wasn’t for your thumb soothingly stroking at her skin Emily would have thought you had fallen asleep and honestly, in that moment you very much could have.

“I want to do this.” You whispered, your lips nearly brushing against her skin as you spoke, “and I don’t want to just restart what we were doing. I want to actually be with you and not have to keep it a secret. I’m just…. scared that there’ll be a fight or something… and that you’ll be that cruel again.”

“Oh sweetheart…” Emily’s heart sunk into her stomach, pressing a solid kiss to the top of your head, holding you to her for a moment, “I’m so sorry, the things I said to you, I would never actually use them against you, I promise. I had to make it hurt, I needed you to hate me.”

“I know.” You mumbled with sigh and she squeezed you a little tighter.

“I want to do this too, I want nothing more than to be with you, but I have to regain your trust and I know that. I don’t expect you to just jump back to everything being perfect but I really do hope we can get there one day.”

“We will.” You assured her, pressing a gentle kiss to her body and she returned one to your temple. A comfortable and relaxed silence took over the room while you enjoyed the relief of knowing you were finally back on the same page and moving in the right direction before Emily spoke again.

“Can… can I ask something that I really don’t even have the right to know the answer to?” She knew it was a stretch, and she wasn’t sure if she actually wanted to know the answer but it had been gnawing at her all weekend.

Your brow furrowed, “sure.” You felt her take a heavy breath under you,

“Did you sleep with Skylar?”

“God no!” You shifted on the bed so you were propped up on your forearm and she nearly laughed at the look of disgust on your face, “she got me drunk, kissed me and I beelined it out of there. Why on earth would you think that I slept with her?”

“I— uh… Morgan alluded to it…” She explained and you winced, “what?”

“Morgan uh… he knows… and considering the week in Seattle he was probably trying to like… get a kick in for me. Sorry.”

“Well at least now when Garcia breaks her vow of silence it won’t be as bad because he already knows.” She chuckled, leaning up to kiss you gently and you giggled into it when her stomach growled.

“Dinner time?”

“I’d say so.” She pushed up to sitting, “what’re you feeling? And don’t say you’re not hungry because if I’m guessing breakfast was coffee and a cigarette. Did you eat lunch?” She raised a brow in your direction.

“Half a sandwich.” You winced.

“Well then let’s get some food in you.” She paused for a moment, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, redirecting your gaze up to hers as she studied you, a soft expression on her face, “teasing aside, are.. you okay?”

“I’m one hell of a lot better now.” You turned your head in her hand, laying a kiss into her palm, “and I’ll throw the smokes away, promise.”

“Good.” She leant in to kiss you, “because I want you to be healthy and you deserve to be so incredibly happy.”

Smiling, you accepted the quick kiss before she slid from the bed, tossing you the clothes you regularly swiped from her closet and the two of you padded out into the living room. It was there that you curled up on the couch with bowls of carbonara and the rest of the wine, Emily’s arm around you and Sergio purring in your lap while you caught up on television. You mentioned something about heading home and Emily gently urged you to stay, not wanting you out of her sight or her arms and it didn’t take much for you to agree to it. While things weren’t quite what they were before, they were still headed in the right direction and that was all either of you could ask for right now. You knew you still had a couple of other hurdles to overcome anyways but at least now you could do them together.

__________________

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