#nat’s blue birthday

[the-iceni-bitch]

“You never loved me, did you?” with Johnny storm or whoever you like best <3 HAPPY BIRTHDAY (HUGS)

6. “You never loved me, did you?”

Thank you for the birthday wishes and I’m sorry for the angst I’m about to unload on you.

You tried not to sniffle as you kept packing up your stuff, doing your best to ignore Johnny sitting on the couch. He was also trying not to look at you, but you didn’t care. Fuck, he probably didn’t care either, otherwise he wouldn’t have sprung this on you out of nowhere.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” He sighed when you didn’t answer him. “Baby, it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“I’m sure, and don’t you dare call me ‘baby’.” You spared a glower for him as you put the last of your things in your sad little box. “Does your new girl know you were still with me when you started up with her? Or is she just as stupid as I was?”

“Babe…” Johnny flinched at the glare you gave him. “I told you I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well you should have thought of that a hell of a lot sooner.” You pushed him away when he tried to reach out to you. “You never loved me, did you? I was just the sad little puppy you knew could keep you occupied until you found what you really wanted.”

“Shit.” He tried to run after you but you slammed the door in his face, and once he got it back open you were halfway down the hall.

Johnny did feel a little bad, but it wasn’t like he could help his feelings. He hadn’t been trying to hurt you, he just met this chick on accident and they clicked right away. He thought maybe she could be the one he had a real future with. He even did the right thing and ended things with you before committing to her, with maybe just a little bit of overlap. So why did he feel like such a massive dick right now? Did he make a mistake? He tried to think about it, but then he got a text from hopefully the future love of his life, and he forgot all about how wounded and vulnerable you had looked as you walked out of his apartment.

⁂❆❅ 𝒥𝑜𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝐵𝓁𝓊𝑒 𝐵𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎 ❅❆⁂

[wolfierot]

❝ 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 ❞

thinking about pussydrunk ceo!natasha. she’s your boss, for fuck sake she’s the one who made the mistake of hiring someone she was attracted to. it’s obvious from the moment the two of you lay eyes on each other, there’s something bubbling beneath you two. she’s always been the assertive type, but that’s what happens when you run things. you have to make the right decisions, the tough calls, fire the ones that just don’t make the cut. you’d been on her chopping block, a long list of layoffs to be made and yours in bold, along with the others but the overly stubborn, red-haired, business woman couldn’t stick to the guns she’d been given.

not like the many men who worked under, all of this, her company that she started, every single effort was made by her. five years of missing holidays, her best friend’s birthday, the big moments she wished she could be a part of being the people she did have in her life was the only family she knew, until her company found it’s footing.

yet, when it comes to firing you, she can’t do it.

the entire staff at the annual ski trip, snowed in the lodge rented out for all personnel yet here she was tearing you apart body from soul, her nimble fingers thrusting in your warm and inviting cunt. what she said last time, would be the last but it was a bold, blatant lie — the both of you knew, accepting her words for what it was, a person yearning to achieve the moral and just action but never quite achieving it. natasha romanoff has traded with the devil, atoning for her sins at a later moment, firmly finding fallen grace as she lapped and fucked your slick in and out of you.

both of your bodies slippery wet, her toned and firm muscles in her forearms hard at work as the pearly white tile in the shower gave her knees a slight bruise, not that she really minds. a temporary marking on her body, tortuous as it reminds her of the one thing she hates to admit to herself….she’s too weak to give up these moments with you. she wears she sees god and all the constellations placed in the midnight sky when you cum for her.

you’re holding back, that much is clear, your grip on her hair tightens, pulling at the wet strands as the waterfalls on her perfect ass, the one you love so intensely. last night, she let you fuck her for the first time in this nine month arrangement, it’s more than you had bargained for, but fuck hearing her sing for you. delicious chants of your name spilling from her perfectly plump, heart shaped lips as you plowed her like she was a farmer’s daughter, your strap flirting with her cervix as she sunk into the bed. she took every bit of it, demanding for more and you weren’t one to argue, not when slight murmurs of mommy fell from her sinful tongue.

“this is what you wanted, right?” with greed in her eyes, she sucks your clit in your mouth, suckling on the bundle of nerves. practically living in her mouth, she spells her name out with her tongue, her fingers at a rapid pace as you grind against her face.

“nat—” involuntarily, you whine. your natural brat behavior comes boiling to the surface. her blunt fingernails claw at your abdomen as her hips grind against the hair. the louder you get the more needs she becomes for release.

at the very least, she needs to bring you to one. deep in her bones, natasha’s sure she needs your cum painting her face like you were made to do.

“that’s daddy to you, fucking brat.” she slips a third finger into your weeping cunt, your tits bounce as you ride erratically, pretending it was the nine inch strap, the baby blue plastic cock that fades into pink, filling you up.

“daddy, thought you said you didn’t want this pussy again?” natasha almost doesn’t catch it, to pussy sucking your slit back in her mouth when she’s not barking orders at you. it’s what you fucking deserve, her cruelty, fondling her breasts in the kitchen when anyone one of her employees could have walked in. devastatingly, there wasn’t one plea to stop you. she let you touch her, slowly unbutton the white crispy button up as you sucked on her nipple, your teeth grazing the sensitive pierced flesh, tongue circling the pebbled bud before moving on to the next. intentionally, your free hand squeezing the one not being used. there was nothing in the world you love less than her tits.

for just a moment, you thought about how full they must have been when she had her daughter, lactating onto her shirt. fuck, you’d suck every last drop if she would have let you, but back then you were just some bright-eyed assistant pining after a married woman. now, you’re getting fucked by her, post separation from her wife. the woman whose lack of sex drive killed their relationship, along with the cheating natasha later found out about, so she did the one thing that knew would piss off her now ex-wife.

fucked the assistant she always knew that pissed her off to no end.

was it really your fault? secretly, she took pride in blaming you for the situation at hand. you had the perfect tits, the supple ass she could spend hours fucking her tongue with, the pussy she would fuck into your folds were puffy and whiny, the clit she would rub and pinch until she saw those pretty eyes roll back. as if it were fate in the stars, or just the fact she loves fucking you, natasha would make it happen more often than not.

she told herself it would just be a one time thing but then she tasted your pussy, sending her into an insatiable frenzy. the first time she heard you moan, hands gripping her desk tightly as she spanked your ass with every thrust of her hips, her cock hitting you with such a brute force, you didn’t even know it was capable. natasha didn’t even know she liked being called daddy until she heard it from you, now she needs it like a fucking fix. if she doesn’t get it, she become irritable, yelling at any and every staff member, hounding them to send you to the office to your office, m’gonna to ream her fucking ass, but little did anyone else know she meant it in a literal sense.

“mhm, i think someone is ready to be good for daddy. so fucking close, aren’t you slut? c’mon yeah? think you can be extra good and cum on my tits? i’ll let you clean it up with your tongue, yeah?” her sinful, deprived, fucking hot words make your body slump against the shower door, your pussy squirting instantaneously as she purposely buts a bounce to her movements, perfect breasts taunting you as she nudges your puckered hole with her pinky, rimming some of your slick with it.

natasha peaks up through her eyelashes, hooded eyes drunk on the sweet taste of your cunt, watching as you crumble into yourself. your hips bucking, even convulsing as you paint her face, her throat, and more gloriously even your tits. even more so, you’re thankful the water from the shower head is cascading down her tattooed spine, wanting the privilege of cleaning it up herself.

the older woman is unrelenting as her fingers rub over your clit at a rapid rate, your cunt unwillingly to stop as your cum coats her in it.

“good fucking girl, oh fuck, so good for me. soak daddy’s tits, yeah?” you whimper out her name, another cry of pleasure is released when she fucked your cum back into you. reminding you of just how violently she can make your orgasms be.

quickly you muster as much strength as you come down from your high, pinning her against the glass door, licking and sucking at her full breasts. you spend even more time sucking on them than you did before. pushing them together as you suffocate yourself motor-boating the most perfect pair of tits in the world as natasha moans and slightly giggles as you do so. natasha throws her head against the glass as your skilled tongue flicks over her sensitive nipples, pulling at the barbell, pushing it back and forth as you suck it back into your mouth, releasing with an obnoxious pop before moving to the next.

“m’gonna cum if you don’t stop.” you’re surprised from the confession but you move past it before gently whispering in her ear after you’ve licked every last bit of your cum off of her. “can’t have that now can we? not when i know you’re dying to have my cock inside you, again.”

natasha lets you fuck her on the bed, then against the dresser as she sits on the top holding her knees to her chest as you piston fuck her into another dimension, and when the two of you are finally spent for the night, she wonders why she thought she wanted to get out of this. if she has to pay for your salary herself so be it, the last thing she has on her mind as she falls asleep holding you is if she’s going to fire you.

natasha knows now she never will. 

[lulunothulu]

“Yes, sir.”

Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: Bob is known to be the sweet and shy one of the Dagger Squat. Little do they know, as soon as he comes home to you, he sheds that persona—but only for you.

Content: 18+ smut, some fluff, a hungry Bob 😏

I feel like it’s canon that Bob fucks so let’s let him fuck us…for science 💗😇 Enjoy!!

Robert Floyd was many things. Shy? Yes. Quiet? Sure. But he was not one to leave his girl longing for anything. That’s why when you’d texted him, asking him to come home straight after work, he didn’t hesitate to make sure he did as soon as he was dismissed for the day.

“Baby on board!” Hangman calls out in the locker room. “Where are you going in a hurry?”

“Um, home?” He responds.

“I thought you were coming to Hard Deck with us,” Bradley says, poking his head from behind a locker door.

Fuck he said that didn’t he?

“Sorry,” he smiles. “Can we rain check?”

Hangman smiles, a knowing look practically shooting out of his eyes. “It’s your girl isn’t it?”

Bob only blushes, stammering, “Wh-why, well, umm…”

“Don’t worry,” Hangman smiles and winks at him. “My Darlin’ is the same way. You go get to her.”

Bob almost choked on his saliva, Bradley does it for him and causes Jake to turn around in surprise.

“What?!” Bradley asks when he’s calmed down.

“‘What’ what?” Jake asks back. “You didn’t know baby on board had a girl?”

“Nat told me about her but I thought she was pulling my leg,” Bradley responds.

Bob can hear Jake tell him something but that’s when he steps out of the locker room and heads toward the parking lot. Reaching his truck, Bob pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before starting his drive home.

———

Pulling into the driveway of y'all's small home, Bob was anxious to get inside. From the text you'd send him about an hour ago, it sounded like you urgently needed him home after work.

Bounding for the front door, Bob swings it open expecting to see you in tears. However, he finds you seated on the kitchen island in nothing but a white lacy set of lingerie and matching stockings. On your feet are the heels you reserve when you're feeling extra fun.

Racking his brain, Bob tries to remember if there was something important happening today.

His birthday isn't for another few months, yours already passed...an anniversary?

You chuckle, watching your boyfriend try to think of what could've prompted this look.

"Are you gonna mull over what why I'm dressed like this, or are you gonna come over here and kiss me?" you ask, a smirk on your lips.

Bob nods, dropping his bag at the entryway before closing and locking the front door and practically running to kiss you.

"Hi, baby," he murmurs against your lips.

"Hi, Bobby," you respond, smiling into the kiss he presses to your lips.

He pulls away to take you in, admiring the way the flimsy fabric sits on your body.

Bob's navy eyes darken, turning almost midnight blue with lust and desire. "You did this for me?"

You nod, biting your lip and smiling.

Bob's eyes practically undress you as they roam down your body. He licks his thin lips before smiling and taking his glasses off, hooking them on the neckline of his shirt. You watch as he drops to his knee before you, a smirk appearing and face transforming to the alter ego Bob takes on when he fucks you.

"Are my dinner tonight?" he asks, voice deep and gravely. When you nod, he clicks his tongue. "You know I like when you use your words, Princess."

You hold in your smile before finally speaking. "Yes, I'm dinner for tonight. Unless you want something, then I can—”

Bob stops you, kissing the top of your thighs before opening them and kissing from the inside of your knee toward your pulsing core.

"What was that?" he asks between kisses.

"Nothing," you sigh, watching as his eyes slowly raise to meet your own.

He pulls you closer to him, smiling when you yelp at the motion. He resumes kissing up your other thigh until he reaches the thin fabric of your lacy thong.

The sensation of his breathing on top of your pulsing clit makes you whimper, causing Bob to chuckle against you. A chill runs down your spine when he kisses you over the fabric.

"Lift your hips," Bob orders.

When you do, he pulls the thong down, bringing the stockings down with before slowly pulling your heels off and peeling the rest of the thong and stockings off. He throws them to the side, smiling down at your cunt before squinting and pulling his glasses on.

"Keep them on," you tell him.

"They look dorky," he laughs.

"And I like how dorky you look in them," you smile.

Bob's eyes darken behind those circular lenses before he lowers himself back to your core and kisses your clit.

Warmth and electricity ignite from that spot, up your stomach, and then back down your legs. When he licks you from the bottom of your entrance to the tip of your clit, you moan his name.

“Fuck, Bobby,” you say, back arching a bit off the counter.

Bob chuckles, sending vibrations to your clit where his mouth is lightly sucking.

Another thing about Bob…he was a ravenous pussy eater. Once he starts, he won’t stop until you’re a shaking mess under him.

Moving his mouth, Bob laps your entrance, fucking you with his tongue and moaning at the taste of you. His nose continues where his tongue once was, nudging and flicking your clit as he eats you out.

Your hands fly to his hair, pulling lightly and gently moving his face back and forth, hips grinding into him.

You were so close, you could feel the wave or orgasms crashing into the lower part of your belly and you were desperate to let it go.

“Bobby!” You exclaim. “I’m so fucking close! Oh my god!”

Bob continues his licking, the tip of his dick pressing into his pants at the sounds of your unraveling. He smiles into your pussy when you finally come, sweet and tang coating his lips and tongue.

He only stops when you pull his head away from you.

Standing, Bob grabs the back of your neck before kissing you deeply. The taste of you still on his tongue making you smile and immediately feel that pulsing between your legs again.

“Stand up, baby,” he says, voice gruff and sending shivers down your body.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” you smile.

Bob’s hand slapping your ass as he turns you around makes you giggle in delight. You knew exactly what you were doing. You only call him Lieutenant when you were feeling extra and right now…you were feeling it.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” He growls against your ear.

“Yes, sir,” you mutter.

He slaps your ass again, a yelp of delight coming from your lips.

“Louder,” he orders.

“Yes, sir!” You cry out.

Bob squats down, spreading your ass before licking your cunt and up your ass.

“Oh fuck!” You cry out.

Bob kisses up your back, one hand on your waist and the other undoing his pants. He lets you go to pull his pants clean down and stepping out of the pile.

His erect dick presses into your bum, making you moan and grind against it. Stopping you, Bob grabs your neck, kissing harshly.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” He moans in your ear. “That outfit gets me so fucking hard.”

“I feel it, sir,” you tell him.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Princess?” He asks, nibbling on the sensitive spot on your neck.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir!”

Bob lines himself to your entrance, careful to angle himself to a position that’s comfortable for you before starting to thrust into you.

You’re tight. Almost too tight, Bob has to think of something else to keep from coming inside you at that second.

As he thrusts, you clench around him, walls wet and soft around him—making him speed his pace and mutter a fuck.

He can feel just how deep he is, and he can’t help but pound into you harder. The thought of being able to get himself completely in your cunt makes his head swim in lustful damnation.

He pulls out, spinning you around before lifting you in his arms.

“What’re you do—”

You don’t have time to finish what you were going to say because Bob is sinking you down onto his cock, gliding you up and down as he bucks up into you.

“Oh my god,” you moan, squeezing your eyes shut.

“No,” he growls. “Open your eyes when I fuck you.”

You obey, eyes locking on his navy ones and mouth forming an ‘o’.

He smiles at you before moaning. “You look so pretty taking my cock in the air.”

You moan in response, unable to form words. He walks you to a wall, pressing your back into it and speeding his pace again.

“Fuck baby,” he mutters, eyes still on you. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Come on my face,” you tell him.

“Come on my face, sir.” He corrects.

You smile. “Come on my face, daddy.”

Holy shit. Bob was gonna combust right inside you if you keep looking at him like that.

Pulling himself out of you and setting you in the floor gently, Bob watches as you get you to knees, mouth open and eyes still on his.

Pumping the last bit of orgasm to the tip, he spills all over your face with a groan.

He watches as you use your fingers to push his come into your mouth, making a show to swallow before opening your mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he tells you, grabbing your hair and kissing you deeply.

“I love you,” you tell him when he pulls away.

“I love you more, Princess.” He tells you, helping you to your feet before sweeping his arms under your legs and carrying you to y’all’s room. “Now, let’s shower so we can go for a round two.”

Wheeeew…something’s crying between my legs. What..?

Tag: @sweetwhispersofchaos @ginghampearlsnsweettea @caystar13star @shinycupcakebaker @sunsetsimpsblog

[letorip]

casual [iii]

"i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself, hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell"

===+++===

pairing: natalie scatorccio x reader

summary: you're not just going to let her go, this time. after long enough, you arrive at the very obvious conclusion that you're in love, and there's very little else to be done about that

warnings: mentions of sex, cuss words, a bit of angst but i promise a happy ending :)

word count: 7.2k

A/N: all good things must come to an end. trust, i'll write for nat again. also i stayed in that airport so fucking long it was like purgatory, and i'm so sorry it took longer than i thought, i've had an exhausting past two weeks and just needed to stop and breathe for a minute

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THAT ONE ANON I FEEL BAD I'M LATE

===+++===

===+++===

"Please tell me you didn't do it on my sheets," Lottie groaned, lip curled in disgust and eyes hidden by her sunglasses.

"Sorry," you said back from behind your own pair, without looking away from the crystal blue of her pool water. You both were splayed out on her sun-bleached deck chairs, with matching hangovers (and bathrobes) that made the bright, beaming sunlight a whole new level of awful.

Her house was in disarray around you both, with crushed beer cans and overturned chairs all across the pool deck. Some cigarette butts floated in the water and you were certain the sprinklers in her garden were misting a pile of vomit and washing it down the front of her lawn, but neither of you made a move to get up and deal with it yet.

At the far end of the Matthews' pool, there was a statue of a mermaid that doubled as a fountain, spitting water in a gentle stream. Someone had put a snapback that said 'I <3 BOOBIES' on her and a bit of lipstick around the area that water shot out, and though usually you would have laughed, you instead were a bit annoyed by how it was taking you out of what would've been a nice scene.

There was just something about waking up and seeing Nat had gone without any sort of indication, that sparked the sudden urge within you to reconnect with nature. So you were reconnecting— more like brooding— on Lottie's pool deck in a peaceful silence.

After what felt like thirty minutes but was probably more like five, she turned to you. "Do you wanna—”

“—Talk about it?” you finished, raising your eyebrows. You shook your head. “No.”

She pouted. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to make pancakes.”

“Oh… then yes.”

You both lazily trudged into her equally wrecked kitchen, with even more cans and spilled liquids thrown over her marble counters. There was a burnt bag of popcorn sitting in the sink and the garbage can underneath it was overflowing with paper towels, but Lottie's kitchen was big enough where you could ignore it entirely, jumping up to sit on the clean countertop near her massive range cooker.

When Lottie said 'make pancakes,' she really meant she would be the one cooking and you would be there for moral support, if anything. You were gifted in many things but cooking or anything of the sort had never been one of them. Instead you leaned your head against the massive stone hood, and watched her from the pair of sunglasses you still wore.

Nat had laughed at you, when you said you didn't know how to cook. Not an omelette, not mac and cheese, and barely a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Of course, you assumed the last one wouldn't be hard to figure out, but you hadn't ever made one before, and it made her laugh into your chest, where her head had been resting. It hurt a bit now, but you had the sunglasses to shield your eyes while you stared off into space.

"Chocolate chips?" Lottie asked, running a hand through her dark hair and combing out a few knots with her fingers. You nodded, and she turned back to the pan in front of her, grabbing a fancy looking bag from a stack of supplies nearby. "My dad brought fresh chocolate back with him from when he was in the Caribbean a few weeks ago," she said to you, sprinkling it into the pan and flipping it over.

"Is he going to be pissed you're using it for pancakes?" you mumbled, feeling your headache return.

"No more pissed than he'll be when he sees that Jeff and his friends cut off the leg on one of his horse-shaped hedges." You winced, hopping down from the counter and feeling your back still scraped raw from, well, Nat. Lottie shot you a look. "That heated, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, heading towards the kitchen island and grabbing some of the beer cans to toss in the rubbish. "She's made her decision clear. I'm honestly done with it. I don't care anymore."

Lottie didn't say anything, turning back to the pancakes and sliding them on a plate as you slid into the barstool at the other end of her island and rested your head on your elbows. "I mean, she called me selfish, Lottie, and then said she loved me multiple times, minutes later. Who the hell does that?"

"Mhm," she hummed, sticking her spatula and the pan in the sink and then moving to the walk in pantry to grab syrup and powdered sugar.

You watched her go, calling after her. "She disappears for days after she gets mad about me talking to people, and then I see her immediately with Bobby Farleigh of all people, and they're cuddling up! I'm done with it all."

"Okay," Lottie said, reappearing with her arms full and tossing them down on the kitchen island. She clambered up into the seat next to you and stole some of the plain ones for herself, before covering them in syrup.

"And," you continued, remembering something else as you began cutting up the pancakes and smothering them in powdered sugar, "she egged my fucking house! How could I even forget about that? I mean, what was I thinking? I don't want to talk about her."

"Oh yeah," Lottie snorted. "You really don't want to talk about her."

You shot her a glare, stuffing your mouth with an angry fork. "I'm serious, Lottie."

"You wish," she scoffed. "If you were serious— and I'm not trying to be mean— but if you were serious, you wouldn't be ranting all about her. I know you keep saying it's impossible and it can't happen with her, but you sure as hell seem like you want it to happen with her."

You frowned, taking a forkful and stuffing it into your mouth. Right as you did, a couple sheepishly walked down the hall and towards the front door, clothes obviously messed up. They sent you an awkward wave and Lottie gave a quick nod in their direction, turning back to her plate. "Then why'd she leave?" you asked, when the door was shut behind them.

She shrugged. "Why the hell would I know? If anyone here would be the Natalie-whisperer, it would be you."

"Yeah well, apparently not," you huffed, shoving more pancakes into your mouth.

"I mean, it's not like you guys were on glowing terms before you... y'know. Wasn't gonna magically all be fixed, after." You groaned, leaning your forehead down onto the cool marble countertops. It actually felt nice, against your raging headache, but you still felt like crap.

"Would've at least been nice for her to wait until I woke up to go. No 'goodbye,' no 'we should talk,' nothing. When we were just hooking up and stuff, I at least always waited to say goodbye."

"So it's not just hooking up, anymore?"

"I don’t know what it is, Lottie. You tell me, because apparently everyone knows but me." She shrugged, finishing her plate and pushing it away from herself.

"I have an answer, but you're not gonna like it."

"...No, I'm not in love with her."

"You absolutely are."

"I'm done with this!"

"You keep saying that."

"'Cause I am."

"Okay."

"I'm done," you frowned, attempting finality in your tone and coming far short.

"Right," she snorted, and then she stood to grab your now-finished plate too. "Can you help me?”

It took around three hours, to get the Matthews house back to its usual formality. You sprayed burnt and disturbed bushes with the hose, threw out bag upon bag of party rubbish, and vacuumed cigarette butts off the carpet of her living room, silently working while Lottie played some records on her grandfather's old gramophone.

Her dad usually put jazz records on it or snooty classical music, whenever you were over, but Lottie had Dancing Queen blasting throughout her house and was hopping around as she snatched stuff off the mantle and shoved it into bags, turning to you and yelling a lyric from time to time, along to the music.

This wasn't your idea of fun by a long shot, but you could appreciate Lottie trying to make it fun.

"So, how much convincing did you have to do, to get Laura Lee here at a party? I mean, with the alcohol," you asked with a snort, grabbing an almost empty bag of crisps and tossing yourself down in her father's leather armchair to finish them off.

Lottie flushed. "A really embarrassing amount," she admitted. "I kind of glazed over that part."

"I'll bet she was surprised?" you asked with an amused crunch.

"It wasn't even that— this guy from my third period started going at it with this girl right in front her. I had to literally stop her from going over there to talk to them about waiting until marriage."

You shrugged. "I mean, she seems to like you a whole lot."

"She does," Lottie nodded. "She's so sweet to me, and she has the best hand to hold, like, ever."

"Honestly, I'm surprised, but happy for you. You're in a big ol' throuple with Jesus Christ."

"Ha ha," Lottie rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at you. "At least whatever we have is holy. I don't even want to think about you and—"

But whatever dig she would've said was cut off by her doorbell ringing. You sighed, letting your feet down from where you had propped them up on the side table and wiping the crumbs on your bathrobe.

"I'll get it," you grumbled, leaving Lottie to clean. When you opened the door there was absolutely no way you could've prepared to see her so soon.

Nat stood awkwardly in the entryway, looking just as surprised to see you as you were to see her. She wore a pair of blue shorts she practiced and slept in, and staring right back at you was the shirt you thought had gone missing weeks ago, barely hidden behind the ratty zip up hoodie she had over it.

Her eyeliner was still smudged from the night before in places, and you stared at her blankly, waiting for her to say something— anything, really.

"I forgot my damn lighter," she said, casting her eyes to the floor after a moment.

"Oh," you replied, feeling a bit stupid suddenly, in your bathrobe and sunglasses, with your flip flops for shoes. You looked like you were mid-spa day, or like someone's drunk uncle on a cruise. Then, before you could stop yourself, you felt an annoyance twinge in your gut, and said "Is that all you've got to say?"

Her eyes shot up, looking challengingly at you, in what was a clear frustration. "What do you want me to say?" But the answer went unsaid, even as much as you didn't like it. That you came back for me.

"I don't know..."

"Great," Nat scoffed. She looked over your shoulder into Lottie's house, as if her lighter would appear behind you and jump right into her hand, and she would just be able to leave. "Can I just have my—"

"—Why did you egg my house?" you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to block the door a bit more. She raised her eyebrows at you, confused.

"What?"

"You egged my house, after our argument," you repeated, slower, feeling the tips of your ears burning.

"No the hell I didn't."

"Yes the hell you did," you argued back, leaning forward with your hands on your hips. "You're the only one with the gate code. I get it, you were mad, but—"

"—Fucking Christ, I didn't!"

"You wrote a giant 'fuck you' on my house. No one else would."

Nat glared. "I didn't invent it. Is it such an impossible thing for you to consider that maybe not everyone is Team (Y/n)? I don't mean to break your brain, but for once somebody might actually dislike you."

You rolled your eyes. "You're the only one with a history of breaking rules and doing shit."

"So, what, you think I would do that to you?"

"Maybe you would. Maybe you don't care about me at all. That's why you ran off, wasn't it?"

She narrowed her eyes at you. "I had to go, before my dad caught me out."

You shook your head. "Bullshit. You've stayed out, before."

"Oh, so now you're mad that I'm not cuddling up to you?"

"That's not cuddling, that's having me stick my fingers in you and then you run off. You were pissed at me a few days before, Nat, for literally the same thing."

"It's almost like it's confusing, (Y/n), when you get mixed signals. And no, I got pissed at you because you went shopping for girlfriends— which, I'm assuming because you're being an oblivious, self-righteous asshole, you're still doing."

"Yep, still looking," you glared at her. She glared right back, just as steely.

"Great."

"Great," you replied. It was annoying, how good she looked when she was frustrated. She was great at looking mad, and even better at looking good when she was mad. The furrowing of her eyebrows, wrinkling of her nose in anger; she had the face you wanted to kiss away. It was impossible not to wonder, if doing so would uncurl her fists and smooth out the lines on her forehead.

Then you stopped. Holy shit. Everything seemed awful, like a massive case of vertigo had just washed over you. You had had hangovers before, but this somehow seemed infinitely worse. See, a thought had finally self-realised itself within your little peanut brain.

I'm in love with Nat.

It made the ceiling feel like the floor, and Nat sent you a concerned glance and seemed about to question your change in expression, when Lottie came from behind you.

"Hey, Nat," she said with an awkward smile, brushing past you with a look and then handing her the lighter quickly. "Excited for nationals?”

"Yeah," Nat nodded, but her eyes were still glaring at you. She cleared her throat, finally looking off. "Thanks, Lot. Great party."

"Mhm," Lottie nodded, trying her best to seem at ease and not at all like she was walking in on a code-red situation. "Have a great weekend! Bye now! Get home safe! See you!" She rushed, tugging you from beyond the doorway and giving a wave, before shutting the door.

The moment the door was closed, she gave you an unappreciative stare, but your eyes were wide and your cheeks flushed.

"What?" asked Lottie, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"I...I think I'm in love with her."

===+++===

Your home was just as empty as it was when you had left the night before. Reginald wasn't even due to come in, since your mother and father weren't home and it was a Saturday. Even the groundskeeper and maid had the day off, and the groan you let out at finally returning home and falling onto the warm rug on your living room floor echoed against the walls of your empty house.

In your hand was the letter you found in your mailbox. A cool black and Princeton-orange colour. You already knew what it said, without even looking into it. Your father and mother went there. His father and mother, too. For years and years and years. And now, if you followed the rules set out in front of you, you too.

It was impossible not to wonder, when the fog of privilege would slowly cloud your brain. Would it be the law degree from a private school, or legacy admissions? The more frightening thing was that maybe Nat was right: it had already set in, and you unaware. You at least felt different than the rest of them. That made you different, right? You and Lottie?

The image of Nat seemed ever-prevalent. Glowering at you, like she had been in the doorway. In your shirt. With that frown. The frown that you wanted to kiss away, but would never be able to. A Scatorccio, of all people. Of all people, you had to be in love with the one person you couldn't have.

It felt simultaneously like life had resolved into something more clear and understandable, and something more depressing and doomed. You wanted to forget the realisation, and the acceptance as well. Maybe it was truly better when you were promising your friends that you felt nothing of the sort.

Your eyes flitted from where they stared at the ceiling over to the giant brown bookcase in the corner, stacked high with thick volumes of what your dad had once said were family records, but you had never grabbed one off yourself. The one that stuck out against the brown leather-bound books was a more sleek, grey memoir with your grandfather’s name printed onto the hard cover casing.

That one you had read— your father had made you read it, when you were fourteen, and your parents gave up on trying for another kid. It wasn’t as dreadfully boring as you thought it would be, but it was still a memoir about a stuffy stockbroker from the 80s, with all the parts involving cocaine conveniently edited out, but not your grandfather’s insane escapades with women.

Your father was in the process of writing his own edition, and had thereby implied that he expected you to write one for yourself. You didn't know what you could possibly write about, but then again there was the expectation you write about it anyway. You weren't a guy on Wall Street, you weren't an international businessperson. You didn't even know what you were going to school for, yet.

Next to the bookshelf in equal intimidation was a painting of your family that your father had commissioned years ago. It was back when you still had braces and acne, but thankfully the artist had removed both. You hadn't been allowed to smile for it, though that's what child-you thought you did for pictures. Instead, you and your parents' mouths were drawn into disapproving lines and hardened expressions, and the golden plaque at the bottom wore your surname in proud, powerful letters.

You sighed, sitting up onto the palms of your hands and then standing slowly, still a bit uncoordinated. You sent the painting a final glance before you wandered to the phone, grabbing the thing and checking your watch while you did it. You slumped down into the seat at the end of your dining room table, where your father usually sat, and pulled the antenna from the top, punching in the numbers absentmindedly as you stared out the window onto the garden and the pool.

The number was for your father's Monaco residence, and you waited with a jumping knee and wry expression while it rang. Eventually, though, your mother picked up. "Hello?"

"Hello, mother."

(Y/n), darling, is something wrong? You know to call Reginald first, in case of emer—"

"—No, nothing is wrong, mother. Look, I actually wanted to ask you a question."

"Well, go on then. We're about to go out to dinner."

"...Mother, do you have Julie Roosevelt's number?"

Silence on the end of the line. "Absolutely!" You didn't need to be there with her to hear the smile in her voice. "What for?"

You swallowed. "I think I'll try to take her out tonight."

"Well! Darling, that's just wonderful!" You nodded into the receiver, not like she could see it. "Make sure to wear your nice shirt, we don't want to upset the Roosevelts! I hope you know, I'm proud of you for this, really." You almost mentioned getting accepted into Princeton. Almost. But you decided not to mention it. It wasn't like you wanted to think about it anyways.

From the far wall, you could see the painting of the woman with the blue eyes staring at you.

===+++===

The local mini golf was always busy, but Saturdays were absolutely the busiest. There were couples upon couples who had the exact same idea, and were wandering around with their hands together and beaming at one another like they were living in a rom-com in the real life.

And yet you stood there with your hand in Julie Roosevelt's, and a massive frown on your face. It wasn't one that you'd let Julie see— every time she glanced in your direction, you'd quickly replace it with your best smile, showing her your teeth— but it was one that you knew you wore when she turned away.

"Sorry about the late notice," you said. You dropped her hand and went to grab a putter from the front, handing it to her and then grabbing one for yourself.

"It's okay, I was wondering if you were ever going to talk to me again," Julie laughed, a bit awkward. You winced. It's not like you could be honest, and say that you didn't intend to. The truth was, that while Julie was a bit shallow, she was also a bit too nice to deserve this one-sided thing.

Of course, there was the hope that you grew the love your mother spoke of. Maybe it would hit you, and alleviate you from Nat, who seemed to haunt your thoughts even more now, that you were aware she had captured your heart.

"I was just busy, this past week," you shrugged. "It's kind of a big deal for the Yellowjackets, and both of the teams are practicing and stuff...so."

"Wow. I guess you really like the Yellowjackets then, huh?"

"Uh...something like that, yeah. It's a big deal." She hummed, then took her things out onto the first green.

You let her go, standing behind her and watching with a grin and the scorecard in your pocket. Mini golf was something you took pride in being good at. But, then, of course, Julie let the ball drop, took a second, and gently hit the ball around the bend with a near perfect curve, and right into the hole.

"Yay!" she cheered, jumping up and down in celebration.

"Wha—"

Julie put her hands on her hips with a teasing grin. "Captain of the golf team, remember?" You hadn't.

"Right..."

You played a terrible game, for the most part. You stood at the end of the second-to-last hole with the scorecard in your hand and a whole bunch of big numbers on your side of the table. Julie was beaming from ear to ear, though you weren't exactly sure why.

It had been pretty much silent, with the two of you failing over and over again to find an interesting thing to talk about. It wasn't the calm, pleasant silence like it was with... well, it didn't matter now. You filled in a four, two shots over the par, and made your way over to where Julie was crouching down, to get a better view of the final hole.

"Actually wait, there's a special way you have to play this one," you called out to her, and she turned to you with a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean?"

"It's kind of local tradition here," you shrugged. You weren't even sure if that was true, you just knew that it was what Nat had called it, when she taught you. "You have to swing really, really hard, and to win, you've gotta get it over the fence," you pointed, "and right into the back of that neighbourhood."

She blinked at you for a moment, and then Julie frowned, looking down to the ground. "That's mean, though. What if you hit someone's house? Or a window?"

"Bonus points," you shrugged. "I don't know, you can't really see where they go, once they're over the fence. It's fun."

Julie raised her eyebrows. "Don't you think it's a little immature? Why would I do that if I'm going to win for real?"

You opened your mouth to reply, then firmly closed it. "I guess you're right," you mumbled. It hadn't felt stupid when you suggested it, but Julie's disdain at the suggestion made you feel improper.

She did win, by a massive landslide, and you let her keep the scorecard with little protest. She was still beaming though, brightly at you like she had just had the best date of her life. Your stomach felt like it was tied up in a bunch of knots, but you smiled back at her nonetheless.

If love was something to be worked towards, you really hoped it would start working soon.

===+++===

You had only been home for about twenty minutes, when your phone started ringing. Off the hook. Over and over again. You knew who it was just from the ring, but that didn't mean you wanted to pick up.

After the disaster that was dropping Julie off at her house, you wanted to continue to staring at the ceiling. But after the sixth call back, it seemed Jackie wasn't giving up.

You picked the phone up with a frown, rolling over and smushing your chin into the bed. "Hello—"

"—OH MY GOD, YOU AND JULIE?!"

You groaned. "Jackie I dropped her off like thirty minutes ago, how do you already know about this?"

"So it's true?! You're dating?"

You sat up. "What? No, we just went on one date."

"Really? Cause Julie told Margie who told Randy who told Jeff, who told me that you kissed her and you're going out!"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I didn't kiss her, she kissed me. And it wasn't even like an actual kiss, she like, pecked me, and then scrambled out of my car and up her driveway."

"Well, she's saying you're going steady."

"'Going steady?' The 40s called, they wanted their slang back."

"Ha ha," Jackie said back, and you could hear the eye roll. She went silent. "...I bet your mom is happy."

"Probably..."

"Are you happy? You're probably a shoe-in for prom court, especially since I'll be out of town. Your mom won't let you go to nationals, will she?"

"No. She'll want me and Julie to go to prom together."

"Well, I mean, at least you'll win, right? That's gotta be exciting?"

You looked over to your nightstand, where you had a polaroid of you and Nat that sat taped to the side. "Thrilled."

"(Y/n)? You okay, hubby?"

You took a sharp swallow. "Yeah, I'm fine. Julie's great."

"Right...," she paused again, "does Nat...does she know?"

"I don't think so... It's only been like, thirty minutes."

"She will soon, though. Monday."

"Yeah...I guess she will soon."

===+++===

Monday was terrible. It seemed Julie had taken the awkward attempt at kissing you as the sign that you were together. She was there at your car when you first arrived, grinning again while you and Lottie got your things for school out of the second row. Then, the moment you had locked your car, you were tugged along by a hand grabbing yours.

You didn't exactly have a good reason to be grossed out. Julie was beautiful, and if you had felt the same way for her, you would have been thrilled with the enthusiasm. Hell, if it were... well. So, you mostly let her drag you wherever she wanted.

There was about a week, to run for prom court. Your mother had promptly called you that morning to insist on prom, and insist on shopping for prom, when she returned home on Wednesday, from Monaco. It was all Julie would talk about, and you were starting to wonder how much of this was a political move for her too, rather than one of genuine interest in you.

You first saw Nat coming down one of the halls, and you hesitated a bit the moment you saw that she noticed you. Or, that she noticed you and Julie together. It was the walk of shame, frankly. You didn't belong to her, in any formal sense. But your heart did, and that was enough for it to hurt. Badly.

It seemed to hurt her too. She immediately frowned, tugging on Kevyn's sleeve and walking in the opposite direction. You wanted to run after her, but Julie had an iron grip on your hand and a smile so bright.

It was awkward enough at lunch, with Julie insisting to sit next to you and to bring her golf friends. A few of them were nice, and Jackie managed to chat them up well enough to make even more friends than before, but Lottie had a frown the entire time, and Shauna looked less than happy.

Nat wasn't staring at you at lunch anymore. It was a startling realisation, that you wanted her to be looking at you. If anything, you were looking more at her. You kept turning around, trying to seem like you were just scanning the cafeteria, but Nat was firmly looking down at her food, at the same table as always.

You felt like a runaway dog that had temporarily shrugged off its collar, trying to find home with a tail between its legs. Julie was nice, and smart, and talented. But she wasn't the one. Your one.

===+++===

"Hey, you ready?" you asked Lottie, finding her out in the hallway in front of the locker rooms. it was Friday, and you both had your soccer bags slung over your shoulder, and were about to head out to practice, but Lottie seemed transfixed on a poster on the wall. "Hey now, you've got nationals tomorrow, no distractions," you tried.

"Is she seriously trying to make it seem like you two are soulmates?" Lottie said with a grimace. It was one of the ones Julie had made in two days, and was now putting all over the school to really earn you both the win. There was a drawing of you and her on it, with a heart in the middle, and 'VOTE JULIE & (Y/N) FOR PROM COURT 1996.' It was an objectively good design, but Lottie didn't like Julie very much— or at least had started to hate her, the longer you and her were together.

"I think it's because she has a crush on you," Julie said once with a pout, after Lottie had been less than welcoming to her on a ride home.

"No she doesn't," you shook your head.

"She definitely does. You shouldn't hang out with her as much, or people will think you and her are a thing. I mean, I did at first."

The whole conversation had only made Lottie more and more annoyed with her, and that was saying a lot, with how Lottie was usually nice to most people.

"Come on," you said, gesturing with your head out towards the pitch. "Last practice before nationals."

Lottie still had a frown on her face, but she followed you out there with her arms crossed. It was still relatively early, only a few people were out. Coach Martinez's son Travis was up in the bleachers, watching, while you could see Trevor and Misty talking next to the water cooler and Jeremy and Mari passing a ball back and forth to each other.

"Hey (Y/n)," a voice called from behind you, and you could feel a similar annoyance to Lottie's washing over you. You turned to see Carter Avery, back from his suspension, with a cheeky smirk on his face. "Miss me?"

"Not even close," you scowled. He brushed past you and Lottie, pausing for a moment when he was directly in front of you staring down in an attempt at intimidation. He kept walking though, until he paused, right at the edge of the pitch.

"Oh, and (Y/n)?"

"What."

"I think I need to borrow some eggs. You got any for me?" Your eyes widened. "What about toilet paper, then?"

It was intended to create anger in you. You knew he wanted you to charge at him or something, or to scowl, but all you did was stand there, in a stunned silence. You had thought that Nat would do that. That Nat could do that to you. Of course it wasn't Nat. You felt stupid and you felt guilty, and you felt even worse that you couldn't do much about either of those things. You could try, though. And maybe that would be enough.

Lottie sent you a knowing look, but all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. Maybe you could try to talk to her, after practice? It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

The Yellowjackets' moods were infectious, and it was impossible to not have a great time, at that practice. Their emotions were high, along with their excitement, and you started to feel a little bit better, the more you ran and the more you felt the wind in your hair.

Of course, that's when everything decided to go wrong. A single slide tackle from Taissa, right into Allie's leg, and everyone was panicking and yelling. You could see the bone sticking out from it, and Misty was bolting in your direction, hovering over her and attempting to right it.

"Can I get two people to carry her?" She shouted at both teams, and you immediately raised your hand, stepping forwards while Allie began to cry. You didn't even see who was grabbing her other arm until you had made it into the locker room, and Allie was still crying with Misty following behind and a very clueless looking Coach Ben behind her.

You should've known, it was her. She was selfless like that, even though she'd rather die than admit it herself. And yet, there Nat was, on the other side of Allie, laying her down on one of the locker room benches and raising her leg up. Misty ushered you both out into the hall, and suddenly both you and Nat were regretting volunteering.

You had to wait until she came out, so you would be able to carry her to the front, where the ambulance could arrive to take her to hospital, but until then it just meant you and Nat were forced to stand there in awkward silence.

It stayed that way, until you tried to speak. "So...nationals, hu—"

"Don't even," Nat snapped, shutting you up. She was twitching a little bit, in discomfort, and you knew right now that if it were outside, or if she were to have her bag, she would be pulling out a cigarette.

"...I know it wasn't you who egged my house. It was Carter... I'm...sorry."

"Real genius, aren't you."

"Allegedly. Not in practice, apparently," you admitted, sliding to the tiled floor in wait. She eyed you cautiously, but did the same, sliding down.

"Man, if I had a nickel, for every time we've been in this hallway with a serious injury... I'd have, what, two nickels?" You hummed, leaning your head back against the wall.

"That's not a lot," Nat said, rolling her eyes.

"No," you nodded in agreement, "but it's weird that it happened twice."

She thought for a minute, then shrugged. "I guess." You both could hear the whistle being blown outside, to end the final scrimmage and indicate that it was time to circle up.

"Don't you want to go hear that? Y'know, for tomorrow?"

Nat shook her head. "I'd rather be here for Allie. Though she's kind of an asshole."

You snorted. "She's a total fucking bitch."

"...Just so you know, I really did have to leave, after Lottie's party... I, uh, kissed your forehead, before I left... I guess you couldn't feel it though. You were asleep."

You shook your head. "I didn't know that..."

"...Yeah... my dad was being an asshole... it was a whole thing." You knew it hurt more than she was saying, right now, and you so desperately wanted to scoot closer, like you would've before things had gotten so messed up. Back when you were on the cusp of happiness.

"I'm sorry, Nat."

She shrugged again, like it didn't hurt, but you knew all too well. "For what?"

You would've said for being scared. For being weak. For not realising sooner. Anything. But instead you were interrupted by the sound of shoes on the tile.

Of course, there Julie had to be. She took a single look at Nat who was covered in sweat and a bit red from practice, and grimaced, before coming up to you and standing right over you, expectantly.

"Is practice over?" she asked, checking her watch. "I finished my club meeting. We have to go dress shopping— I want you there to colour match— and I need you to drop Margie off at her house, cause I said you would yesterday."

You blinked. "I mean... It kind of is? I should probably stay a bit—" you looked to Nat to see what she would say, but she was already standing up and walking off, taking the not so secret hint that Julie was telling her to get lost.

Julie watched her go, scowling behind her back and then spinning to you the moment the door clicked shut behind her. "What did she want with you?" she asked.

"We were just talking, Allie needed help."

"Well she's no good. She's one of those kids, y'know." You narrowed your eyes, getting up to your feet and wiping your hands on your shorts.

"What are you talking about?"

Julie tilted her head to the side, like she was confused by your confusion. "You must not have a lot of them, around here, but we had them all OVER, in Massachusetts. The town bicycles. Everyone wants a ride, if you know what I mean."

It was your turn to cross your arms. "No the hell I do not, Julie."

"Oh come on," she said, throwing up her hands. "She's trailer trash, at best. The delusional kind who thinks we'd look at her, like, ever. I mean, what's her body count, like over a hundred?"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," you snapped at her, glowering.

"Okay, I know she's on the Yellowjackets, and she's clearly trying to get in your pants, but cmon. I'm your girlfriend, we can laugh about this kind of—"

"No, the hell you aren't. You're not my girlfriend, Julie, and you barely ever fucking were. That girl you just insulted is the best fucking person I know. She's selfless, she's kind, she makes me laugh—"

"Well then go sleep with her then!" Julie yelled, stomping her foot.

"Y'know what, I already have! And I fucking love her. So there!" And you turned right around and stomped back out onto the pitch.

===+++===

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you rolled your eyes, trudging down the stairs and calling out into the foyer. It wasn’t like whoever it was would actually be able to hear you, through the thickness of your door, if anything it was more to air your grievance with having to get up so fucking late. Your mom was once more distraught, now that you had kept the "perfect" girl for a single week and then promptly dumped her. Another vacation was in order.

Rain was still pounding on the roof from above, and it filled the emptiness of your house with a faint white noise, that was immediately shattered by the person pressing the button again. You rolled your eyes, deciding to walk even slower to the door out of nothing but spite.

When you actually opened the door, though, you had to blink a couple times, seeing a figure retreating already, down your drive. However long you had took had made them rethink why they were here, and you would've been all too happy to let the door close. That was, until you narrowed your eyes into the rain, just barely making out the shape of a familiar leather jacket.

"Nat?" You called into the storm, loud enough that there was no way she couldn't have heard you. You crossed your arms, thinking about how she had been earlier that day. "I know it's you, Natalie. Why the fuck are you here? You have nationals tomorrow."

She stopped in her tracks, just standing in it. She gently turned, shoulders rising and falling and it was clear she was breathing heavily. Her mascara was running in massive streaks down her face and dripping in small, grey droplets, and her eyes were sensitive and red, as if she had been crying and rubbed them raw. You swallowed what felt like a lump in your throat.

"This— all of this, with you— I— I can't," she stumbled, looking like a sad, wet dog in the rain.

"What?" you furrowed your eyebrows at her, walking out further onto your large, covered doorstep.

"I can't see you with her, (Y/n), I— I just can't."

"With Julie?"

Natalie threw up her arms in frustration. "Yes, Julie. I know she's perfect, or whatever, but— I— you can't be with her—"

"—Nat," you tried, stepping forward again.

"—Because I love you," she continued. You stopped in your tracks. It felt as if the air had been sucked right out of your lungs, even in the freshness brought by the storm. "I know we argue," her voice shook, "and I know we fight, and I know I smoke, and I curse, and I get bad grades, and my dad's a shithead, and I'm kind of an asshole sometimes— but I fucking love you, (Y/n). You.... I—"

"—Shut up," you said, shaking your head and rushing forward, out into the pouring storm. You collided with her, cupping her face in your cheeks and kissing her like the world would end in ten minutes. It would have, if you hadn't done it, and you had no idea how you had survived so long without doing it.

You kissed her once, and then you kissed her again, and then, when she was crying harder, and you were crying too, and she was holding onto your arms like you would fall away, you kissed her forehead, and held her tight in a hug.

"I'm selfish, and I'm a mess, and I'm never good enough for my stupid fucking parents," you said, over the rain and just for Nat, "and I don't realise that I hurt people 'cause that's not what my family does, and for that, I'm really, really fucking sorry."

She nodded in her tears, looking up at you as you both got rained on together. "But, I agree," you said, voice shaking, "we're not casual. I'm really, really fucking sorry, but I also really, really fucking love you, Nat. And I'm sorry I was too scared and too stupid, and," you raised your voice, as if to the sky, "I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING GO TO PRINCETON—" this time it was Nat who shut you up.

It was another kiss, but it was far more gentle than the first. It was a gentle press, and it took your breath away. When you pulled apart, you let your forehead fall against Natalie's. Even though the droplets were cold, you felt so warm.

After what felt like forever, but still wasn't long enough, Nat murmured to you, "should we go inside?" She still smelled like cigarettes and her perfume, just as she had in her trailer, and you intended to let the scent linger.

You shook your head. "Just stay out here a little longer with me. Please? Just let time pass."

She nodded, then smirked as she looked past you at the car on your driveway. "Fuckin' rich people."

===+++===

AAAAAND THAT'S CASUAL BABYYYYY! Finished at like 2 am. anyways, i'm tired and a little bit sleepy

[roosterforme]

The Grateful Dad | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: When you lose Bradley's favorite possession while you're away for a work conference, he starts to panic when you get home. 

Warnings: Fluff, swears, mentions of sex and pregnancy

Length: 1400 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is an optional one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time!

Check my profile for my masterlist

You just had a hunch. Something was telling you that the timing had worked out perfectly this month. It could have been that night that Bradley made you a romantic dinner for your birthday, complete with s'mores made over the stove burner. Or maybe it was the evening when he'd come into your office while you were grading exams and spread you out on your desk. It could have even happened that Sunday afternoon when he tried on his new dress whites for you. 

But regardless, you weren't too surprised when your period didn't start the day it should have. You weren't shocked that it didn't come the following day either. You were in fact very excited when you had to find a store that was open late on the random Tuesday night when you were in Philadelphia for an academic conference. 

You took a stack of pregnancy tests back to your hotel room and looked at them sitting in a row on the desk while you called your husband. You would take the tests in the morning as the instructions told you.

"Hey, Sugar."

His voice sounded extra raspy through the phone, and it made you smile at the Clear Blue Easy box in front of you. 

"Hi, Beer Boy. How was work?"

"It was fine. I miss you. What time does your flight land on Friday night?"

"Kind of late. Not until ten."

Bradley groaned. "I can't wait to pick you up. I can't even enjoy the Hard Deck without you. Everyone just asks where you are the whole time, and the beers don't taste as good."

You smiled. Hopefully after you took a pregnancy test in the morning, you could tell him he'd have to keep drinking without you for a while. "I'll be home before you know it."

"You gonna send me a selfie?" he asked, and you could practically hear him smirking. You quickly snapped a photo of you all dressed for bed in his old tie dyed Grateful Dead shirt, and when you texted it, he moaned into the phone. 

"You look so good in that. You look better out of it."

You laughed and said, "Maybe I'll send you another one in the morning while I take a shower."

"Oh, fuck. Please do. And then get your ass home to me."

The selfies you took in the shower the next morning and sent to him were a big hit with Bradley. And you had to admit that your smile had never looked brighter or happier than they did in those photos. Maybe with the exception of when you and Bradley reconnected at your ten year class reunion. 

So you threw away all of the pregnancy tests and got dressed for your conference. And on the way there, you found exactly what you were looking for on Amazon and ordered it with a giddy laugh. 

-----------------------------

Bradley was waiting around, contemplating keeping his uniform on after work on Friday. He knew you would like that, but he still had hours until it was time to pick you up from the airport. So he changed into jeans and a backwards cap instead and decided to clean the house. 

"Good, god," he murmured, simply closing the door to your messy office instead of even attempting to do anything constructive in there. First of all, you'd get pissed if he moved anything. And second, the food wrappers and dirty mugs were your problem to deal with, not his. "She's as bad as Nat."

You were kind of a slob, but he loved you and he was delighted when it was time to collect you from the airport. His week had been empty without you. At times it felt like he was still living in that ten year period when he didn't have you with him; nothing was wrong, exactly, but nothing was right either.

"Sugar!" he called out when he saw you at the airport. And holy shit, did you always look this beautiful? Had he been taking you for granted recently? He really hoped not, because you were fucking stunning even in leggings and a sweatshirt as you approached him with a gorgeous smile on your face. 

"I missed you, Beer Boy." Your hands were on his neck as you kissed his lips and his mustache, and Bradley pulled you tight against his body. "You look cute in your hat."

He was going to take you home and fuck you hard into the mattress. 

However, upon arrival, disaster struck. Bradley watched you open your suitcase on the bedroom floor and gasp as you dug around. "I think I lost your shirt."

Bradley's heart sank. "My Grateful Dead shirt?"

"Yeah."

"Sugar! What the fuck, baby?" he whined in desperation. He loved that stupid thing. He loved that you always wore it. He loved that you kept it with you for ten solid years between college and when you and he reunited. "Seriously?"

When you just winced, Bradley took out his phone. "Which hotel did you stay at again? I'll call them. Maybe one of the housekeepers found it." He had pulled up google to search for the phone number, but he saw you smiling out of the corner of his eye. 

"Don't worry about it too much. I got you a replacement."

He thought his eyes were going to bug out. "A replacement? No, that shirt was vintage. Where did you possibly find a replacement?"

"Amazon!" you said brightly, and he groaned and dropped his phone. "Come over here and look at it!"

There was no way you couldn't tell that Bradley was pissed off as you stood and held up a hideous orange, brown and teal tie dyed monstrosity in front of him. 

"Oh, no. No no no," he moaned as he read the front of it. "It's all wrong! It's like that 'No Regerts' tattoo meme. And don't even get me started on the colors."

You turned it around the other way so you could look at it, and you calmly told him, "It looks good to me."

Bradley was sweating now. His priceless shirt was gone, and his wife had lost her damn mind. "Sugar. It says Grateful Dad. Not Dead. It's a typo."

You examined it again and shook your head. "No typos," you told him, smiling while he wanted to scream. And then you held it up one more time.

"Wait," he whispered. "Oh." 

It couldn't be. Could it? But the two of you hadn't been using protection for quite a few months. The idea of letting it happen naturally, if it happened at all, had appealed to both of you. Bradley's heart was pounding in his ears as your smile grew. 

"Sugar?" He pulled the shirt from your hands and tossed it onto the bed, taking both of your cheeks gently in his hands as he gaped at you. "Are you pregnant?" His voice was soft, so scared that he might be wrong about this.

But you nodded and said, "Yes!"

He hauled you up into his arms and shouted, "Hell yeah!"

"You're going to be a dad! To a little Bradshaw Bean!" you told him as he spread you out on the bed and very gently laid on top of you, making sure he didn't put pressure on your belly.

"I'm going to be the Grateful Dad! I'm so happy!" He could feel tears prickling at his eyes as he kissed your face before easing himself down your body and gently pulling up your sweatshirt to kiss your belly. After nuzzling around your belly button, he pushed your shirt up further and paused. 

"You are such a brat!" he scolded with a grin when he realized you had been wearing his authentic, vintage Grateful Dead tee under your sweatshirt the entire time. "Just for that, we're naming the baby Jerry Garcia Bradshaw."

Your hysterical laughter as he kissed and tickled you had him smiling for the rest of the night. And when you fell asleep on him, all wrapped up in his shirt after he made love to you, he ordered a newborn sized tie dye onesie. 

---------------------------

This one goes out to @sometimesanalice for the perfect title, and @je-suis-prest-rachel for the shirt idea! Thanks for loving Beer Boy and Sugar! And thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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The Grateful Dad Part 2

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[imthebadguyyy]

Hold Me In Your Arms Tonight

pairing : steve rogers x reader

fandom : marvel

synopsis : steve comes home from a mission, and all he wants is to be wrapped up in your warmth and in your arms.

a/n : i just wanted to write something tender and sweet and smutty so here ya go

warnings : smut

the usual murmur of the quinjet had dulled, into a thick and heavy silence. as the machine soared through the night sky, the avengers found themselves in a rare moment of quietude after a particularly intense mission.

the air inside the jet hung heavy with a mix of exhaustion, and tension.

tony as usual, was the first to break the deafening silence. reclining, in his seat, his signature smirk missing commented, "well, that was fun, wasn't it? remind me to thank fury for these vacations."

natasha, sitting across from him, raised an eyebrow, one hand pressing an ice pack to the indigo bruise blooming on her wrist.

"now's really not the time" she muttered, eyes gesturing towards steve, who looked the picture of defeat.

the mission had started promisingly and could have been regarded as an amateur operation. intel suggested a hydra base operating in a remote location, with plans for a powerful biological weapon that could endanger innocent lives.

steve and tony had decided that the entire team didn't have to come, so the two of them with natasha and thor had suited up and gone, leaving bruce, wanda, clint you and sam to wait in the compound. they had what they thought was a meticulous plan to infiltrate and neutralize the threat.

until they actually reached the base.

as the team breached the compound, it had become evident that hydra was one step ahead. the entire facility was a trap, a carefully orchestrated ambush. waves upon waves of highly trained soldiers overwhelmed the avengers, forcing them into a chaotic retreat, that had left most of them nursing minor injuries.

"we didn't know cap" nat said, looking at the simmering anger in steve's eyes.

steve didn't lift his eyes off the spot he was focusing at on the wall.

"they knew we were coming. how the hell did they know?" thor asked, slamming mjolnir down in the ground.

tony muttered something along the lines of "our intel was compromised" but steve didn't care.

as the silhouette of the avengers compound came into view and natasha heaved a quiet sigh of relief.

she knew that the only person who would be able to calm steve and get through to him was you, and that you'd be the only person he'd ever open up to a 100%

with a hum, the jet landed, and the four trooped out, to see an awaiting maria hill, a grim furrow in her brow.

"cap we need a debrief on the-" her words died on her tongue and she computed the glare thor sent her way.

she understood the message : leave him alone.

speaking of, steve had walked into the compound, stepping into the elevator, head dropping low, he finally let out a deep sigh, fingers pressing the 4th floor, wanting nothing more than to have you in his arms.

the ding of the elevator signalled his arrival to you before he did.

you were standing in the kitchen, listening to the merry bubble of the kettle as you boiled hot water for a warm cup of midnight tea.

tony had given you and steve the entire fourth floor as your residential area, and you couldn't thank him enough for the state of the art amenities and accommodation.

just as you put your two spoons of tea leaves in the ceramic blue teapot clint and his wife had gifted you for your birthday, you heard the elevator door open, and the heavy footfalls of your husband echoed in the hall.

smiling to your self, you poured the hot water from the kettle to the teapot, just as steve's muscular frame filled the door of the hallway, his long shadow preceding him as he walked into the kitchen.

steve could smell the scent of black tea before he saw you, the homely scent wrapping him a warm hug that he didn't know he needed.

there were softly lit candles glittering softly all around the penthouse, and fresh bouquets of flowers in every vase. the plush sofas looked freshly dusted and soft music was playing in the background

soft, muted lighting enveloped the space, casting a warm and intimate ambiance. the city lights beyond the windows twinkled like a myriad of stars, creating a breathtaking backdrop against the darkened sky.

but to steve, none of this mattered. the only view he cared about was the one of you, shuffling around the kitchen in fuzzy bunny slippers and your silk blue pyjamas.

he watched as you moved with a quiet confidence, navigating the familiar space with ease. the rhythmic clink of porcelain against the marble countertop echoing as the cups were placed gently on a tray as you selected delicate tea cups from the cupboard. he watched your fingers, adorned with subtle rings, tracing the edges of the cups with a practiced familiarity.

as steve observed you with a mixture of admiration and emotion, his gaze, fixed on you, spoke volumes as he recognized the beauty in the simplicity of this moment. the anxious lines on his face softened, revealing a depth of emotion stirred by the sight of someone he cherished engaged in such an ordinary yet intimate act.

"hi baby" you smiled at him, smile dipping when you observed at the tenseness in his body language. his shoulders were taut, remnants of anxious lines softly fading from his forehead as he looked at you.

"hey" he said, voice cracking slightly, even more as you let out a soft "oh" reaching him in two steps to wrap your arms around him.

in the dimly lit room, the atmosphere was heavy with unspoken emotions and words, but you both knew he didn't need words, he needed the unspoken reassurance that you were there with him, physically, in the moment.

he stood there, shoulders slumped, carrying the weight of the world on his weary frame. even captain america got overwhelmed sometimes. you approached him with a gentle understanding, eyes reflecting both empathy and love.

as you reached out to him, arms enveloping him in a comforting embrace, he crumbled.

the embrace wasn't just a physical connection; it was a lifeline, a silent reassurance that in this moment of vulnerability, he wasn't alone. your fingers traced soothing circles on his back, a rhythmic gesture that mirrored the ebb and flow of emotions he was clearly feeling.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, desperate to find solace in the softness of your presence. the scent of your hair, a mix of strawberry and vanilla, familiar and comforting, mingled with the quiet warmth of the room.

the thump of your heartbeat, pulsing through your body, steady and reassuring, echoed against his chest, a gentle reminder that they faced the challenges together, and that as you had stated in your vows, your hearts would beat together as one for the rest of your lives.

"we were so close, but everything fell apart. the intel was off, our intel was compromised, we were ambushed. the team got separated, and we couldn't prevent the disaster. it's like no matter what i do, it's never enough." he whispered, voice broken and eyes haggard, pulling back to look at you.

his eyes sought home in yours, desperate to find the love he needed so badly.

you listened attentively, absorbing the raw emotion in his voice. as he spoke, his hands clenched, betraying the frustration and helplessness he felt.

running your hands up and down his back, you whispered back, "you can't blame yourself for everything. you're only human. superhuman, sure, but still human"

steve ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, letting out a bitter chuckle.

"im supposed to be a hero, someone who saves the day. but what if I'm not cut out for this? what if I'm just making things worse?" he said, and you found tears rising to your eyes at the anguish your husband was in, blue eyes as stormy as the ocean, nothing but insecurity and fear reflecting in them.

you reached for his hands, holding them in a reassuring grip, fingers running over his knuckles in a pattern only you could interpret.

"darling, being a hero doesn't mean you always succeed. it means facing challenges, even when the odds are against you. it means being brave enough to admit when you may possibly make a mistake and it means allowing yourself to grow from the bad days. you can't control everything, but you can learn from it and keep going. you're not alone in this. you have all of us and we're always going to be there when you need us because you're always there when we need you. thats what makes you captain america, steve, your unrelenting ability to show empathy in the face of danger"

steve found solace in the warmth of your gaze. the weight on his shoulders didn't vanish, but the shared burden made it more bearable. "i love you so much" he said, leaning his forehead on yours.

bending down, he pressed his lips to yours, as you melted into the kiss, hands coming up to hold his jaw, as your thumbs ran along his cheekbone. he rested his palm on your waist, fingers splayed out and tracing a pattern, as his other hand reached up to caress your face.

you had to reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down by the neck to meet your lips. he pulled you impossibly closer to him, hands gripping you so tight as if you would vanish into thin air.

before you knew it his lips were heavy on yours, hot and needy, each kiss becoming more and more desperate as his hands roamed the expanse of your body.

his tongue pushed against yours urgently, but you broke apart, panting heavily, to kiss his cheek and whisper a soft "i love you"

steve swore his heart melted as you spoke, fingers caressing your cheek as he scooped you up from below, letting your legs wrap around his waist, hands gripping your thighs tightly as he guided the both of you to the bedroom.

the bedroom embraced an alluring intimacy, its subdued lighting casting a warm, hazy glow that danced across the plush surfaces. a large canopy bed, draped in rich, dark linens, stood as the focal point, its soft contours inviting and enticing. the plush cushions and silken sheets glowed softly in the dim lights,

the air was infused with a subtle fragrance of vanilla and lavender, creating a sensory tapestry that heightened the atmosphere.

the heavy curtains were drawn, swaying in the gentle breeze from an open window, allowing a filtered moonlight to cascade into the room, creating a soft interplay of light and darkness.

candles were strategically placed on various surfaces, flickering with a mesmerizing rhythm, casting enchanting patterns across the walls, rose petals scattered on the bed and the loveseat in bedroom.

steve carried you into the room, awestruck at how you had set up the room for his arrival.

"you did this baby? for me?" he asked, eyes softening. "all for you my love" you assured, smiling softly at him. "all of this and all of me is for you" you whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest.

you felt him shudder softly against you, and the sudden pick up in his pace as he dropped you gently against the bed.

"i adore you" he murmured, pressing kisses all the way from your head to your forehead, trailing down your face, from the curve of your nose to your plump cheeks, pressing delicate kisses to the soft skin, before ultimately stopping at your lips.

he pressed his pink lips to yours, lips moulding into one as he let his body hover over yours. his tongue darted out to lick your lip, begging for entry and when he squeezed your hip and you let out a moan, he slid his tongue into your mouth, tongue clashing against yours, teeth stopping to sink into your lower lip, pulling it back to watch it snap back into place.

you kiss down his jaw, reveling in the soft sighing that he floods your ear when you near his throat. he groans when your mouth latches onto that sweet spot by his shoulder, your hot tongue sliding against his neck, with your chapstick tasting of shea butter and cherry, fingers dancing across the hem of his suit like a tease. his arms slide down to your top, the silky material scrunching up as he pulls it up, marvelling at the skin below.

"touch me" you whisper against his mouth with swollen lips and nudging noses. he sighs at the phrase, sea blue eyes never once leaving the comfort of yours. "touch me, use me, use me to get rid of your stress" you whisper, rocking your hips slowly against his.

you could feel his hard on against you, and you gently rolled your hips against his.

you were sure it got hard, this facade of being perfect all the time. so maybe just this once he needed to let go. let go of the gentleman person and fuck you raw till he was calmed down and satiated.

your shirt rides up even higher as steve drags a rough palm over your ribs, his rough hands have you jittering. his head rests on your stomach, lips pecking the area around your belly button and down your hip bone until you’re rotating your hips around him. "you're absolutely unbelievable" he groans as he gently licks around your sensitive belly button. he groans in pleasure when you tug on his hair, smiling when you say, "i dont know how lucky I got with you" he murmured.

"touch me. just touch me like you won’t ever stop" you whimper out, and steve studied the want in your glassy eyes and nodded softly, stroking his finger on either side of your cheek. the intimacy of the moment is jarring against how desperately the both of you want each other. but it's sensual and sweet because its a long buildup his finally being at peace.

agonizingly slow, his fingers dip down the waistband of your panties, cotton rubbing against the back of his hand as he curls his fingertips towards your pussy. the gentle notion makes your breath hitch, especially when he spreads your folds apart to expose the hood of your clit.

his middle finger circles draw leisurely over the sensitive nub with slow, rough circles and your thighs twitched.

his voice hitches in his throat as he observes your reaction. "oh, doll, you’re — oh, you’re just dripping, aren’t you?" he groans as you guide his hand further, the pads of his fingers dragging your arousal against your wet entrance. "my gorgeous, gorgeous girl" he whispered, pressing a sugar sweet kiss to your jaw.

"I'll always love you no matter what" you moan, scratching at his shoulders shamelessly, rocking on the heel of his hand for more friction. your eagerness spurs him on and so he increases the pressure, skimming his fingers over your folds and pressing ever-so-tantalizingly near your hole before he returns back to your clit. "fucking tease" you whine and he smirks.

your steve is usually demure even in bed, ever the perfect gentleman, gentle with you as if you'd snap into two if he was too harsh with you.

but this steve was daring and experimenting with his rough side.

your next sentence died in your throat, a soft gasp leaving your lips when he pushed his finger inside you, slow and deep enough to rip a whine right out of your throat from the stretchs.

he inhales loudly, eyes fixating on your mouth when you hopelessly sigh against his neck. you shift your knee higher up his leg, giving him more access to finger you. he hums at your expressions, mirroring them when you suckle dark marks just beneath his sharp jawline.

he mouths at your shoulder, leaving glistening patches of saliva in the wake of his sloppy kisses. you rock against the heel of his palm, mewling as he drags his fingers against your walls and he muffles his own moans against your skin.

"you’re so perfect" he groans, fucking his fingers in and out of you. the noises that leave your pussy and his throat are sinful, sounding like the harmonious mixture of splashing waves and delicate moans, his hand cupping your mound while he fingered you impatiently.

"fuck, Y/N. you’re making quite the mess, aren’t you, my angel? god, your moans are so fucking sweet to listen to"

"steve, your fingers..." you watch his wrist snap against you, juices squelching around him. you nearly sob, waterline beginning to water as the pleasure intensifies, "you get me so wet" you whimper and you hear the groan he tries to suppress at the juxtaposition of your angelic voice and face and the filthy words coming out of your pretty mouth.

"that’s good. I love pleasing you, you know that?" he asks as you clamp down onto the crook of his neck, teeth stifling your wrecked moans as he curls his middle and ring finger against that spongy spot inside you.

his touch is generous, and accompanied by his weathered hands, you can feel your orgasm approaching soon. he fucks you faster, thumb rubbing at your clit hard.

while others would resort to their own personal pleasure to de stress, it's your pleasure that brings steve relaxation. the fact that he could draw earth shattering orgasms from you was what helped him feel good and he knew that it was only when you were completely satisfied that he would be too.

you cry out into his chest, bite marks littering his skin as you hold him tight and gracelessly grind against him until you lose control over your climax.

your body shakes from your orgasm, gradually and slowly, steve's fingers scissoring carefully in and out of you. 

your pussy pulses needily between your thighs, toes curling as you focus your attention on steve undressing. his suit comes off, discarded somewhere in some corner, his under clothes come off, and then finally, he drags his gray boxers down his legs, and his cock stands proudly, slapping against his stomach as he releases it from it's prison.

you moan as you take in the sight of his thick cock, long and girthy and big enough to leave you breathless as it always did. steve after all was a supersoldier, and his cock was to match. he also had incredible stamina and you knew he'd leave you exhausted.

he nears you again, heavy against you and you reach down to stroke him, smiling up at him, realising your hand doesnt fit all of him into your palm. his cock twitches again when you moan, a throb settling at the base of his spine with an uintelligible moan.

"stevie, baby, i want nothing more-" you strain, reaching behind your own hips to take ahold of his cock and line the weeping tip up perfectly "than for you to fuck me. i want you to fuck your pain and your distress away" you say, and his eyes darken with lust, the baby blues fading to black, like a dark and thunderous sky.

his dick catches against your clit first, causing your body to jolt in shock before you sweep him through your dripping folds. he grabs ahold of your hips, seemingly spellbound as to where else to hold you. his eyes flicker all across your bare skin, unable to settle on the best spot.

his teeth reach down to grab your nipple in between them, one hand reaching up to fondle the other. his tongue darts around the perk nipple, sliding all around it, saliva dripping all around it. your hips rut wildly at the pleasure on your sensitive nipples, and the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers toying with the other.

a chorus of gasps sounds between the two of you as you slowly roll down onto his dick, harmonizing almost like a symphony. he stretches you deliciously, and he's big. very big. perfectly filling. It’s akin to losing all sense of direction, unsure of up from down, left from right. your hips stutter and still from the shock because through your haze you feel steve thrust upward and into you to bridge the gap and you whine as he brushed a sensitive spot within you.

a high pitched wine of "oh fuck!* leaves your lips, and a deep groan echoes in steve's chest.

you groan, finally feeling him sink all the way into your pussy, already shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. before you can comprehend, hes bottoming out in your slick pussy.

rising back over the curve in his cock, you lift yourself back up until only his tip is pressed up against your pussy. you pause before you sink back down. you see the almost animalistic need in steve's eyes as he gazes up at you through his lashes, eyes following the clenching of his jaw.

the wet sound of your pussy being filled over and over echoes, the air that had held a chill seemingly warming at your shared activity. you can barely hear his groans, your heartbeat thrumming so loud in your ears that you’re convinced he can probably feel it thudding in your walls.

your eyebrows arch in bliss as the ridge of his head catches up against something so incredible that you’re drowning in pleasure, a light that must surely be heaven flooding your eyesight.

but it's not heaven no, it's a sight far better : your husband, mouth agape and head thrown back fucking into you like your life depended on it.

what you didn't expect was the harsh smack to your ass, his big hand smacking the sensitive skin of your ass and you let out an "oh!" skin stinging and pussy dripping, before the longing for more fills you.

"you like that, my pretty girl?" he asks, pinching the fat of your hips.

you merely moan in response, mind melting at the pleasure. a second smack to the ass follows, and a large vein-y hand grips your throat and forces you to look at him.

"words doll, words" he chides, and you stutter out a shaky "yes" your movements are stuttering at the way a familiar simmering feeling begins deep inside your abdomen, but steve doesn’t want you to stop. his hands take a firm grip of your hips, forcing them down as he begins to thrust up and into you in that same desperate pace.

he continued to brush against that part of you that just obliterated any coherent thought, your mind melting into sludge as pleasure overtook every nerve in your body.

his hands traced over your ass, still hovering between the edge of good boy steve and bad boy steve, but all it took for him to slip was your whimper of "spank me harder daddy" and he was gone.

your sweet gentle steve was replaced by an animal, hands delivering harsh smack after smack to the sensitive skin of your ass, feeling it burn red hot as his large lands landed on your ass with a harsh unoact.

the filthy sound of his hand slapping the jiggly surface of your ass and the sloppy, wet sound of his dick pounding into your pussy echoed around the room, and you had never been more glad for the fact that your floor was completely soundproofed.

you’re not exactly sure what part of his body you’re holding onto, the muscles canvas all melting into one, so far away from comprehension, but you know you’re holding it in a bruising grip, one that leaves a perfect impression of each of your fingertips that would most definitely remain imprinted on his skin.

sweat beaded and dripped down his forehead, as he continued thrusting and pounding into you as if his life depended on it.

your mewls and whimpers perfectly complimented his grunts and groans as his hips snapped further into yours.

your back arched off of the bed as he let your leg rest on his shoulder, pushing the other one away from you so you were perfectly spread out, pushing one leg far away enough so that it was almost touching your ear

the smirk on his lips told you that it was gonna be a long night and that steve wasn't done with you just yet. he grabbed your face, fingers lacking their usual gentility, digging into your cheekbones, before pushing your face sideways into the silky pillow, making you close your eyes at the contrasting sensation of your hot cheeks against the cold pillow, the feelings setting your body on fire.

the sensation of you digging your nails into his back, had his hips falterring and stuttering slightly as he let out another lke growl into his ear, as he allowed himself a moment to bask in the burn of the sting before regaining his pace and thrusting back "you're so, so fucking good, just squeezing me so well hmm?" he growled, grunting as your pussy squeezed him harder and your eyes shut.

you only raked your nails down harder, although your moans were slightly muffled, and the desperate whines leaving your lips fuelled, him, as he continued snapping his hips into you, nails digging into your thigh, the pleasurable sting sending you spiraling. you could feel ths tight muscles rippling in his back, and you scratched down the bare expanse of his back, knowing it always drove him crazy.

the red hot pleasure in the pit of your stomach began to tighten, making you pant. he started guiding his cock deeper into you, which you didn't think was possible, and placed your hand in the outline of his cock in your tummy, and the filthy sound of your wetness and the sounds of your skin slapping together echoed across the hotel room.

the bed began to knock against the wall, the thumping sounding sweeter than the sweetest symphony you had ever heard.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head once again, mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. for a second, you thought you had floated into another dimension, a low hum filling your ears, and your body convulsing in pleasure.

you heard steve moan your name, before letting out a low grunt, feeling him release his chokehold on your throat and hips, watching as you squirted all over him.

your cum splattered him all over, and your vision almost went black from how hard you had just squirted on him.

he reached out to collect your cum on his fingers, licking it, moaning at your sweet taste. the sight had you blushing.

you thought you were done, but just as you began to come to terms with the force of your orgasm, you felt his thumb on your clit, making you jerk your hips away, shaking your head. "daddy please, no more, i can't, not anymore" you whined out, feeling your pussy throb.

"yes you can, one more my doll, just give me one more" he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again harshly, in a rough, dirty, demanding kiss.

you could feel his hips stuttering, his cock beginning to pulse inside you, his thrusts becoming sloppy, signalling he was close to his own orgasm.

you moaned into his mouth, taking the opportunity to suck his tongue. "come on captain, cum for me, wont you? you work so hard and I'm so fucking proud of all your hard work" you whispered into his ears, licking at the shell of his ear

at your words, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, his tongue poking out to lick patterns on the skin there, and you could hear his low, soft grunts as he chased his release, making the veins in his neck pop.

you could see his body glistening in the layer of sweat that had covered him, he continued to thrust into you for a second or two more, before a deep groan left his swollen lips, and an even deeper moan of your name echoed in your ear, as he spurted his cum into your warm pussy with a groan, your pussy clamping down on him like a vice, milking his cock

your body shuddered at the warm liquid dripping into you in hot spurts, covering your pussy in his cum, moaning in pleasure as the warmth of his release spread through you, enveloping you in a warm daze. panting softly, he stayed enveloped in your warm walls.

the both of you cuddled into the silk sheets, the aur conditioning doing little to cook your overhead bodies. steve pressed tender kisses to your face and body, whispers of "my beautiful girl, my angel, my doll, i adore you" leaving his lips like a mantra.

his hands, now no longer rough with want, traced soft patterns on your flushed skin.

"was that too rough for you?" he asked, concern etched in his eyes and worry lines appearing on his face.

"not at all" you said, quickly quelling his fears.

"you should do that again" you smirked, giggling when he blushed red. "thank you for that my love" he said, raising your knuckles to his lips to press a soft kiss to them.

"you don't have to thank me, steve. I'm always here for you no matter what" you murmured.

you were slowly sinking into a daze, but you registered him pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and heading to the bathroom

"I'll be back in just a second honey, I'm just getting some towels to clean us up" he explained, grinning at the pout adorning your bruised lips.

sure enough he came back, with cold towels to wipe you up with and a fresh set of pyjamas (his shirt and your shorts) to slip into, gently tugging you into the clothes and cleaning up the sticky mess on your thighs and cleaning you up.

he brushed the stray strands of your hair away from your face, pressing a soft kiss to your nose then your forehead, and then your lips.

he fed you a glass of cold water, and a piece of chocolate for a little bit of energy in the morning. cleaning himself up, he slipped into bed with you, his large arms wrapping you up, his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as you snored softly beside him.

in the warmth of your embrace, he felt an unspoken reassurance. as he held you close, the rhythmic beating of your heart echoed a comforting melody

in that tender moment, he realized that in your arms, he was not just physically close, but emotionally anchored. the world outside ceased to matter as he embraced the profound sense of safety and love that enveloped the both of you, creating a sanctuary where worries melted away, leaving only the simple joy of being together.

[waltermis]

Stay, Stay, Stay

Summary: You & Natasha share a comforting moment

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader (romantic)

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NATASHA!! ❤️❤️

↠↠↠ 

Natasha sighed, cutting her peanut butter sandwich. She listened to Rocket, Nebula, and the rest of the remaining avengers argue from across the universe. It’s been five years since the snap. Five years since Thanos. Five years since the Avengers officially split up. Five years since she lost Yelena. Five years since everything… But no matter how much time passed, she couldn’t let this life go. 

“Carol, are we seeing you here next month?”

“Not likely,”

“What? You gonna get another haircut?” Rocket teased.

“Listen, fur face. I’m covering a lot of territory. The things that are happening on Earth are happening everywhere. On thousands of planets.”

“Uh, all right. All right. That’s a good point. That’s a good point.”

“So, you might not see me for a long time.” 

“All right. Uh well, this channel's always active. So, if anything goes sideways… anyone’s making trouble where they shouldn’t… comes through me.” Natasha stated, before Rocket, Okoye, Carol’s channels disappeared, leaving Rhodey. “Where are you?” she asked him.

“Mexico. The Federales found a room full of bodies. Looks like a bunch of cartel guys never even had a chance to get their guns off.”

“It’s probably a rival gang,” Natasha denied quickly.

“Except it isn’t. It’s definitely Barton… what he’s done here, what he’s been doing for the last few years. I mean, the scene that he left…I gotta tell you there’s a part of me that doesn’t even want to find him.”

“Will you find out where he’s going next?” she asked, taking a bit of her sandwich, tears filling her eyes, threatening to spill.

“Nat?”

“Please?” she asked, quietly. She looked so vulnerable, her eyes glassy and nose red from holding back tears.

“Okay,” he sighed, before leaving the channel.

Natasha sighed, trying her hardest not to cry. She missed him, Clint, he was her best friend. One of the first few people that truly trusted her. When she met Clint’s family, they welcomed her in with open arms. They were like her second family; finding out that they were blipped broke her heart. She couldn’t imagine what Clint was going through. 

‘God, this is a fucking mess.’ She thought, wrapping her arms around herself. Taking a bite out of her sad excuse of a sandwich, Natasha’s senses picked up the sound of wheels rolling against the hardwood floor. Natasha furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, watching you hauling two big blue luggage, she’s never seen before, through the common room. “Moya lyubov’, where are you going?” You ignored her, continuing to grab the luggage’s outside. “Detka? Are you okay?!” Still nothing. Natasha began to panic; thoughts of you finally realizing that you deserved better clawed their way into her brain. “Dorogaya? Can we talk about this? Please!”

“Babe?” you asked, coming back. “What’re you doing in here? I thought you were gonna use Meeting room A today… W-why’re you crying?” you asked, wrapping her up in your arms. She didn’t even notice the tears that streamed down her face. 

“Please don’t leave me! I promise I’ll spend more time with you, just please don’t go…” she cried into your chest, her words muffled as she tugged you into her, her grip tight.

“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere,”

“Then why are you taking your luggage outside?!” she wailed, her nails digging further into you, afraid that you’d leave the second she loosened her grip.

“What? Those aren’t mine.”

“Huh?” she sobbed out. “Then whose are those?”

“They’re Tony’s, from when he and Pepper used to live here. They still have a bit of stuff here they haven’t moved to the cabin yet, he wanted me to finally bring it over for him.” you explained slowly, knowing that the lack of sleep was finally catching up on your redheaded girlfriend.

“Then what about you ignoring me?” she asked softly, her grip finally loosening.

“I was listening to music,” you showed her the air pods still in your ears. “I couldn’t hear you. I didn’t even know you were in here. I thought you decided to use one of the meeting rooms instead. You know I would never intentionally ignore you,”

Natasha nodded; her eyes grew heavier listening to the soothing sound of your voice. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.” she begged, tilting her head up to look into your eyes.

“I promise, there is nothing in this world that would make me leave you. Ever.” you promised, pecking her on the lips.

“I love you; you know that right?”

“Of course, I do, and I love you too. To Vormir and back.”

“Where’s that?” she asked sleepily, her head thudding on your chest again.

“Not sure… just came into my head.” you laughed, picking her up in your arms. You brought her back to your shared bedroom, placing her underneath the covers.

“Stay,” she said, grabbing a hold of your arm.

“Of course.” Bringing her into your arms, you placed a firm kiss on her head, letting sleep envelope the two of you.

↠↠↠ 

864 words

[kachowden]

Loren listening to Blue Ain't Your Color. That's it, that's the post (I'm partial to the Home Free cover myself, hehe)

I love that song! Loren has always had a special place in my heart, and one of my favorite songs to listen to (that I personally headcanon as being his favorite), is “Orange Colored Sky” by Nat King Cole. Such an upbeat song and the lyrics just scream Loren to me? Because I’ve always viewed him as a very silly lover?

Like Loren is the guy who wants to make you laugh because he stuffed your locker with balloons for your birthday. Or the guy who’s dramatically falling to his knees when you say you have to go home for the day. His goal is always to have you smiling. Whether you’re in a relationship or not, the line will be consistently blurred by how sweet and romantic his actions towards you are.

A kiss on your temple, big arms holding you around your shoulders as you waddle through the halls, trying to make it seem like this 6ft something jock isn’t acting like your back pack. HES JUST SO SWEET DUDE.

His original storyline (as my oc) is a completely different timeline though. He’s a knight in a fantasy world I made a long time ago (which a lot of my ocs are also a part of). But even in that original timeline he’d act the exact same way towards his darling. Like if you lived in a tower, he’s breaking through your window. If you’re just a commoner or someone who works in the stables, he’s shirking his duties to come see you. LIKE HE LOVES YOUUU.

I love Loren 🫶

[yelenasdiary]

hi!!

with this new yelena content, i have a "sort of" request??

i mean, i have like a phrase that buzzes in my head, a phrase that if it were said to Yelena the entire fandom would break down in pain.

so, the quote is this: "i want to be able to worry about you"

it is possible, even in the future, to have a fanfiction or even a short one shot with yelena x r, and r says this to Yelena?

the context of why that phrase is said I would leave up to you to decide :)

(or maybe all this only makes sense in my head, idk lol)

Drunken Sober Thoughts

Pairing: Yelena Belova x GN! Reader.

Summary: When Kate's birthday party comes to an end, you and Yelena find yourselves alone.

Angst, Fluff.

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, Mentions of death, Reader has dark thoughts. This is not proof read or corrected | 0.8K

AC: I loved this idea, I hope you enjoy it! x

Red and blue plastic cups littered the rooftop of Kate's studio apartment, the young Avenger had just celebrated her 24th birthday and threw a little party with her closest friends. Kate has been one of your closest friends since you recruited her to the team, and although you were a few years older than her, you've seen her more as a little sister than anything else. 

She introduced you to Yelena shortly after she had joined the new Avengers team, you already had some kind of background on Yelena from Clint but the two of you seemed to grow close quickly. 

"What's going on inside of the big, smart brain of yours?" Yelena's accent brought your thoughts back to reality as she took a seat down next to you, the two of you now looking over the city of New York. You took a sip of your drink and smiled softly, "nothing new" you replied. 

Your comment made Yelena frown, "come on, you talk to me" she said, placing her red cup beside her. "You've been a little distant recently and I know you don't like to worry Kate but she's worried too" the blonde added. You couldn't help but sigh to yourself. "You don't have to worry about me, nor does Kate" you replied before taking another sip of your drink.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Yelena spoke again, "you know, you remind a lot of Natasha sometimes" she said, looking over at you. 

"Natasha was a very smart and respected woman" you replied, looking back at her. 

"Yes, but she too was closed off. Although I only got to spend a little time with her, she was happy. You gave her a family when she needed one and now your family has retired but you haven't?" Yelena questioned, "why not?" she added. 

You shrugged, "I guess, outside of being an Avenger, I have nothing. An empty home, nothing to keep my mind from replaying everything that ever happened in my life plus, Kate keeps me busy" 

"You're hiding" Yelena said, taking a sip of her drink once more.

"Hiding?" You questioned with a frown. Yelena nodded, "you're using this new Avengers team as an excuse to let yourself be happy" 

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, "trust me, I am not someone that somebody wants to come home to every night" 

"I do" Yelena said softly. 

You looked over at Yelena to find her already looking you in the eyes. The look in her eyes told you everything, a simple look and you knew what she was about to say. "Yelena" you started.

"I know, I know what you're going to say and you can try to tell me just how much you don't think you're worth it but I want to be able to worry about you, I want to be able to come home to you, I want to see the world with you, to take you out for dates and do all those little things that love so much. 

I don't want to waste what is the rest of my life letting my past control what I do and how I feel, I've had feelings for you since that day you came to Nat's tombstone on her birthday. You left her favorite flowers you didn't leave the site until you knew I was okay. We had only met twice, and you had it in your heart to be there so a stranger. I think about that day a lot" she explained. 

Your mind went back to that day, Yelena sat with Nat for hours. You didn't mind waiting and making sure she would be okay, after all, you promised Nat that you would be there for her whenever she needed, and something told you that day that Yelena needed somebody to watch over her. 

"You would've done the same" you replied. 

Yelena shook her head, "if I didn't know you, no I wouldn't" she replied honestly. 

"Yelena, you're probably just drunk, you don't mean any of this" you added, rising from your seat, "it's late, I should probably make sure Kate isn't chocking on her own vomit" you added. 

Before you knew it, Yelena had a grip on your wrist, not a hard grip but even to make you stop trying to walk away from her. She pulled you closer to her, never breaking her eye contact with you, "I can handle my vodka, but I can't bare another moment without you" she spoke softly before kissing you deeply. You dropped the plastic cup in your hand, letting it hit the ground and splashing your drink as you found yourself wrapping your arms around the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. 

You pulled away for air as a tear rolled down your cheek, Yelena smiling softly as she wiped it away with her thumb, "don't worry about Kate, she's been drinking punch for the last two hours" she said, making you chuckle. 

"You're not going to reject this in the morning, right?" You asked as worry filled your eyes. 

"Not in a million years" Yelena replied.

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[sebstanaddict]

A Birthday to Remember

Bucky Barnes x Reader One Shot

Summary : Reader is an Avenger, living in Avengers Tower and working together with Bucky as her partner at work. They secretly have feelings for each other but neither were courageous enough to say it. Until his birthday comes and she decides to throw him a surprise birthday party. However, his reaction is not what she expected..

Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warning : none

Word count : 3k words

Read more Bucky/Sebastian one shots here : The Stan and Barnes Oddyssey

---

A Birthday to Remember

A/N: This takes place in an alternate universe where Tony and Nat are still alive and Steve is still around.

---

March in New York City was a month of thawing ice and budding possibilities. The city, caught between winter's last breath and spring's first whispers, mirrored the state of James "Bucky" Barnes' heart—cold yet hopeful.

For years, he'd been a soldier, an assassin, a man out of time. But in the quiet corners of Avengers Tower, Bucky found a new identity, not just as an Avenger but as a man who, despite the darkness of his past, had found a beacon of light in the form of Y/n, his work partner.

Y/n had been the first to see past the steel-blue eyes that carried the weight of decades of pain. She had a way of making the world seem a little less heavy, her laugh a little brighter, her presence a comfort in the storm that was his mind. But for all her warmth, Bucky kept his feelings for her locked away, fearful that letting them out might scare her off or, worse, tarnish the only good thing he had in his life.

It was the first week of March, and Bucky's birthday loomed on the horizon. Not that anyone ever made a fuss about it; it was just another day for him. But this year, Y/n decided that it would be different. She'd seen the way Bucky withdrew into himself, how he avoided attention, and how he seemed to carry the world on his shoulders even when they were supposed to be off-duty. A birthday celebration, she thought, could be a way to remind him that he wasn't alone.

Y/n spent the days leading up to Bucky's birthday planning meticulously. She reached out to their fellow Avengers, those who had become something of a family to them both. Steve, who knew Bucky better than anyone, was hesitant at first but eventually agreed, realizing that Y/n's intentions were pure. Natasha was all in, offering her own skills to ensure Bucky wouldn't suspect a thing, while Sam, ever the optimist, promised to keep the mood light and fun.

On the morning of Bucky's birthday, Y/n could barely contain her excitement. She'd set everything up in one of the smaller common rooms of Avengers Tower, a space that offered a cozy atmosphere and a stunning view of the city. A small banner reading "Happy Birthday, Bucky!" hung above the entrance, and a cake sat in the center of the room, decorated with a minimalist design that she knew Bucky would appreciate.

As the day progressed, Y/n kept a close eye on Bucky. He seemed to be his usual self, quiet and focused, but there was a slight tension in his demeanor, something that she couldn't quite place. When the time came, she led him to the common room under the pretense of needing help with something.

The moment he walked through the door, the lights flicked on, and a chorus of voices shouted, "Surprise!"

Bucky froze, his expression unreadable. The room was filled with familiar faces—Steve, Natasha, Sam, and even Tony, who had begrudgingly agreed to take a break from his lab for the occasion. Everyone was smiling, but the one face Bucky focused on was Y/n's, standing just a few feet away with a hopeful grin.

But instead of the smile she was hoping for, Bucky's face hardened. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the decorations, the cake, the people. It was all too much, too overwhelming. Without a word, he turned on his heel and left the room.

Y/n's heart sank. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She quickly excused herself and followed Bucky down the hall, her footsteps quickening as she saw him heading for the stairwell.

"Bucky!" she called out, but he didn't stop. "Bucky, wait!"

He finally halted halfway up the stairs, his back still to her. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice low and tight.

"I thought... I thought you'd like it," Y/n replied, her own voice trembling with uncertainty. "I just wanted to make you happy."

Bucky turned to face her, his eyes burning with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper, more vulnerable.

"I don't need a party, Y/n. I don't need a room full of people staring at me, reminding me of everything I've lost, everything I can't get back."

Y/n blinked, taken aback by the intensity of his words. "I wasn't trying to remind you of anything. I just—"

"You don't get it," Bucky cut her off, his voice rising. "You think you can just fix everything with a party, with cake and decorations? I don't want that. I don't need it."

The hurt in his words cut deeper than Y/n had expected. She took a step back, her own emotions bubbling to the surface.

"I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't mean to upset you. I just... I care about you, okay? I wanted to do something nice for you because you mean a lot to me."

For a moment, there was silence. Bucky's anger seemed to deflate as he looked at Y/n, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He hadn't meant to hurt her, but the emotions he'd kept buried for so long had come rushing out, and now he didn't know how to take them back.

"Y/n, I..." he started, but the words caught in his throat. He took a deep breath and tried again. "I appreciate what you did, really. But... my birthday, it's just another reminder of how much time I've lost, of how much I've missed out on. And the last thing I wanted was for you to see me like this, feeling sorry for myself."

Y/n's expression softened as she took a step closer to him. "I don't see you that way, Bucky. I never have. I see someone who’s been through hell and back, who’s still fighting, still trying. And I... I care about you more than you know."

Bucky looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, he allowed himself to see the truth in her eyes—the affection, the concern, the love she’d been trying to show him all along. And in that moment, something shifted within him. The walls he’d built around his heart, the ones meant to keep people out, began to crumble.

"I care about you too, Y/n," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. But I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know if you felt the same way."

Y/n let out a soft, relieved laugh, wiping at the tears that had begun to fall. "Of course I do, Bucky. How could I not?"

Bucky took a tentative step toward her, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. "I’m sorry for how I reacted. I just... I wasn’t expecting it, and I didn’t know how to handle it."

"It’s okay," Y/n said, her hand coming up to cover his. "I should have talked to you first, asked what you wanted."

They stood there for a moment, the tension between them dissipating, replaced by something warmer, something more real. Bucky hesitated, then leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. "Thank you," he whispered. "For caring. For everything."

Y/n smiled, her heart swelling with affection for the man in front of her. "Happy birthday, Bucky."

—

After the tension had melted away, Y/n and Bucky found themselves back in the common room, though it was now empty, their friends having discreetly departed to give them some space. The sun had set, and the lights of New York City twinkled outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft glow over the room.

Bucky had never been one for grand gestures, but as he looked at the cake Y/n had made for him, he felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn't felt in years. It wasn't the party that mattered—it was the thought, the effort she had put in just for him. And more than that, it was the realization that she cared for him in a way he had never dared to hope for.

"Do you still want to celebrate?" Y/n asked, her voice soft, as if she was afraid of breaking the moment.

Bucky nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah. But just the two of us, if that's okay."

Y/n's face lit up with a smile that made Bucky's heart skip a beat. "I'd like that."

They sat together on the couch, the cake between them, and Bucky watched as Y/n lit a single candle. The flickering flame illuminated her face, and for a moment, Bucky could hardly believe this was real—that he was here, with her, on his birthday, and that she felt the same way about him as he did about her.

"Make a wish," Y/n said, her voice gentle.

Bucky looked at her, at the way her eyes sparkled with affection, and realized that he didn't need to wish for anything. Everything he wanted was right here in front of him.

Instead, he leaned forward and blew out the candle, his wish already fulfilled.

They spent the rest of the evening talking, laughing, and sharing stories. It was the most relaxed Bucky had felt in years, and he couldn't help but marvel at how easy it was to be around Y/n, how she made him feel like he could finally be himself without fear of judgment.

As the night wore on, the lights of New York City continued to sparkle outside the windows, casting a soft, ambient glow across the room. The city was alive, but inside the common room, it felt like there was only the two of them. The remnants of the cake sat on the table, forgotten as they continued talking, lost in each other's company.

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he had felt this at ease. The weight he usually carried on his shoulders seemed lighter, the shadows in his mind a little less dark. Y/n had that effect on him. She always had. But now, knowing how she felt, everything seemed brighter.

They sat close together on the couch, their knees almost touching. Bucky found himself drawn to her in a way he had never let himself be before. Every time she laughed, it sent a warmth through his chest that he couldn't ignore. And every time she looked at him, he felt like she was seeing right through all the walls he had built up over the years.

"So, tell me," Y/n said, leaning back and turning to face him fully, "what was the best birthday you've ever had? I mean, before this one, of course."

Bucky smiled, though it was tinged with a bit of sadness. "It's been a long time since I had a birthday worth remembering. Back in the day, Steve and I would celebrate together. He'd always get me something, even if it was small. I remember one year, when we were still kids, he saved up for months to buy me a new jacket. It was nothing fancy, but it meant a lot."

Y/n listened intently, her eyes softening as she imagined a younger Bucky, happy and carefree. "He always was a good friend."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, his smile growing. "He's the best."

There was a comfortable silence between them for a moment before Y/n spoke again, her voice gentle. "You know, Bucky, you deserve good things. You deserve happiness. I know it's hard to believe that sometimes, but it's true."

Bucky looked down at his hands, which were resting on his knees. It was difficult for him to accept that, to believe that he was worthy of anything good after everything he had done, everything he had been through. But when he looked back up at Y/n, he saw the sincerity in her eyes, and for the first time, he started to believe it might be true.

"I’m trying," he admitted quietly. "It's just... it's hard to let go of the past."

Y/n reached out and placed her hand over his, her touch warm and reassuring. "You don’t have to do it alone, you know. I'm here, Bucky. I want to help you, if you'll let me."

Her words settled over him like a comforting blanket. Bucky turned his hand over, so their palms were pressed together, and he gently squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "For being here. For everything."

They sat like that for a while, just holding hands, neither of them wanting to break the moment. Eventually, though, Y/n glanced out the window and smiled. "It’s getting late. How about we head up to the roof? The view up there is incredible, and it's one of my favorite spots in the Tower."

Bucky nodded, his curiosity piqued. "Lead the way."

They made their way up to the rooftop, the cool night air greeting them as they stepped outside. The city sprawled out before them, a sea of lights stretching as far as the eye could see. It was breathtaking, the kind of view that made you feel both small and connected to something much bigger at the same time.

Y/n led Bucky to the edge of the roof, where a small bench was nestled between some planters filled with flowers and greenery. It was a peaceful spot, far enough from the bustle of the city below to feel like they were in their own little world.

"Wow," Bucky said softly as he took in the view. "This is... incredible."

Y/n smiled, pleased that he liked it. "I come up here a lot when I need to clear my head. It's quiet, and the view always helps me put things in perspective."

They sat down on the bench, side by side, and for a moment, they just enjoyed the silence, the beauty of the city stretching out before them. Bucky could feel the warmth of Y/n's shoulder against his, and it was a comfort he hadn't realized he needed.

"This was a good idea," Bucky said after a while. "Coming up here, I mean. I can see why you like it."

"I'm glad you think so," Y/n replied, her voice soft. She glanced over at him, her expression thoughtful. "Bucky, there's something I need to tell you."

He turned to look at her, his heart suddenly racing. "What is it?"

Y/n took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "I’ve wanted to tell you this for a while, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react. But after tonight, after everything, I can’t keep it to myself anymore."

Bucky felt his pulse quicken, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety swirling in his chest. "Y/n, whatever it is, you can tell me."

She met his gaze, her eyes full of emotion. "I care about you, Bucky. A lot. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I know you’ve been through so much, that you have your own demons to fight. But I want to be there for you, to help you through it. I want... I want to be with you, if you’ll have me."

The words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, Bucky couldn’t breathe. He had imagined this, dreamed of it even, but he had never dared to hope it could be real. And now, here she was, offering him everything he had ever wanted but was too afraid to ask for.

"I..." Bucky started, his voice thick with emotion. "Y/n, I... I’ve wanted to tell you the same thing, but I was too scared. I didn’t want to drag you into my mess, into the darkness that follows me everywhere."

Y/n shook her head, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek. "You’re not dragging me into anything, Bucky. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you. And I don’t care about the darkness, because I see the light in you too. You’re a good man, Bucky Barnes, and you deserve to be happy."

Bucky leaned into her touch, his eyes closing as he absorbed her words. They were like a balm to his soul, soothing the wounds he had carried for so long. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the love and determination in hers, and he knew that this was real, that she meant every word.

"I want to be with you too, Y/n," he said, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside him. "I don’t know how to do this, how to be with someone, but I want to try. I want to try with you."

A smile spread across Y/n's face, one that lit up her entire being. "We’ll figure it out together."

Without thinking, Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, a kiss that was both tender and filled with the promise of something more. Y/n responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him closer. It was a kiss that spoke of all the things they had been too afraid to say, all the feelings they had kept hidden for so long.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, but neither of them could stop smiling.

"Happy birthday, Bucky," Y/n whispered, her forehead resting against his.

Bucky chuckled softly, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "Best birthday ever."

They spent the rest of the night on the rooftop, wrapped in each other's arms, watching the city that never slept. It was a night filled with quiet conversation, shared warmth, and the promise of a future together. As the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon, Bucky knew that he had finally found something worth fighting for—someone who made him believe in the possibility of happiness, of love.

And as they sat there, with the city waking up around them, Bucky realized that this was just the beginning.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Another request 🥴 “Hey, listen to me. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you.” with Andy please?

Yes! Teddy bear Andy who just wants to take care of you is like crack for my anguish.

You were crying in your sleep again. Andy could hear your whimpering and feel you tossing and turning on his sleep, blinking slowly as he woke up and frowning as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead and cheeks.

“Baby…” he hushed you gently when you opened your eyes and sobbed immediately. “Aww honey, did you have a bad dream?”

“Yeah.” You sniffled and snuggled closer to him. “It was dark and scary and all I knew was that you weren’t there. I was all alone.”

“Fuck honey, it’s okay now, though.” Andy held your chin and tilted your face up to look at him. “Hey, listen to me. Nothing is going to hurt you. I’m always here for you, I promise.”

“I know.” You rested your head on his shoulder as you started to calm down, letting him rub your back and rub his cheek against your hair. “I know.”

He could always make you feel safe and cared for, even after such an upsetting dream. You felt yourself starting to drift off to sleep again, smiling a small smile to yourself as he started to hum a little tune to help you relax in his arms.

⁂❆❅ 𝒥𝑜𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝐵𝓁𝓊𝑒 𝐵𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎 ❅❆⁂

[red1culous]

Comme Ci Comme Ça. 

Steve sits in the bustling cafeteria tapping his fingers on the brim of his coffee cup. He felt tense, twitchy, like he just wanted to get out of there as fast as he could. His restlessness had nothing to do with the 3 cups of coffee he had inhaled. 

“She does have childbearing hips” you whisper nudging him with your elbow. 

“Y/N!” He groans aloud before shushing you for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning. “She’s gonna hear you!” he shout whispers hiding his face in his hands. You see the tips of his ears turn crimson red and you chuckle inwardly. 

“Isn’t that the point? I mean if we left it to you nothing would happen” you say as you take a sip of coffee from your mug. He groans one more time sinking into his seat attempting to make himself as small as possible. “Or I could just go over there…” you say while making to get up before he grabs your elbow and pulls you harshly back down into your chair. He wraps his arm around yours to ensure you don’t go anywhere. 

“Don’t you dare!” he says through gritted teeth. You laugh at how red his face his. 

Just then Natasha walks by and stops in front of your table. She quirks an eyebrow seeing Steve almost wrapping himself around you. Slowly she puts her tray of food on the table and slides into the seat opposite you. You smile at her and she returns it warmly before focusing her attention on her breakfast.

After a moment or two she clears her throat. “Steven” she says and his posture goes straight as a rod. She pauses for emphasis before continuing. “Mind telling me why you’re holding my girlfriend” she points with her knife, “like that?” 

“I uh I—“ he stutters as he untangles his arm from yours in haste. Natasha continues to cooly spread butter on her toast as if she didn’t (most definitely) threaten to scalp him with it a few minutes ago. 

“Baby don’t be mean” you interject taking pity on Rogers who was still tripping over his words. You were worried he might bite his tongue off and lose the ability to speak. “I was helping matchmake ol’ Steven here with Stella over there.”

Natasha follows your gaze turning her head and neck to look behind her. “Stella?” she asks confused looking back at you. 

You hum. “Mmm the one with the blue pencil skirt.”

Natasha looks again this time twisting her entire body to face Stella. This time she’s met with Stella’s staring right back at her. Nat gives a small wave which Stella awkwardly returns. She swallows before facing you and Steve a knowing look on her face. 

“Oh Stella with the hips?” she asks taking another bite of her toast. Steve groans again and drops his head onto the table with a thud. 

“That’s the one” you chuckle and steal a large crumb that had fallen onto her plate. 

“She’s cute” Natasha says. 

You nudge Steve again. “Told you she was cute.”

Nat clears her throat and you give her a wistful look. 

“Nothing compared to you of course” you quickly add. She hums and you chuckle in amusement. You take her hand from across the table and lightly kiss her knuckles. 

A rousing chorus of laughter erupts from the table next to yours and your attention is pulled to a surprise birthday celebration. 

Natasha dabs her lips with her napkin. “Steven” she says, “are you expecting an alien attack or some dangerous criminal to come bearing down on you?”

He starts. “Huh? What?”

She shrugs. “Why are you so tense? It’s as though you’re waiting for something bad to happen.”

He rolls his shoulders and lets out a long sigh. “I’m fine, really.”

“Look,” you offer. “Let me go over there and tell her you like her and want her number.”

“NO!” he says a little too loudly catching Stella’s attention. She quickly averts her eyes when she catches his eyes on her. “She might not even be into me.”

Nat snorts. “I sincerely doubt that” she says as she gets up from her seat to approach Stella. 

The end.

----

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[dawnoftime22]

a plan gone...right?

| N.R

Warnings: a small part of walking in the dark within a forest, but with lampposts!

Summary: When some complications come up as Nat does her plan of surprising you for your birthday, the two of you had to take a long journey before the clock strikes twelve.

Word Count: 5.8k

Category: Fluff

A/N: hi hi hi :] it's my birthday loves!! so of course I planned a special fic for you all (including me) to have! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

| Started on 30/12/2023, 9:50 PM |

| Finished on 07/12/2023, 3:46 PM |

Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

“Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back.”

- Dog Days Are Over, Florence + The Machine

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

The two of you are in the Avengers compound, alone, seeing as everyone had either been busy with a mission, or out and about, using their free time for relaxing. Some are also simply hanging out at their own houses instead.

You see Nat staring off in a space on the wall, her hands holding the book she was reading. There was nothing on the wall or on the floor when you looked, so it was obvious she's deep in thought.

"What are you thinking about?" You ask gently, pulling her out of her thoughts while you move in the kitchen, cleaning up remnants of the cooking the two of you did earlier and having finished cleaning the dishes.

"Just...us," she says, her eyes flickering from the book and to you when she gets called back into reality. You smile, amused, but also a little concerned.

"...Mm, and...?" you hum, putting the kitchen towel back on its original place once you're done. She looks at you, staring a little, but her eyes were scanning your face for your emotions. The redhead takes a breath, holding it before talking.

"Well, since I've been really busy, I was thinking maybe we could spend some time outside together?" she asks, grabbing the bookmark she uses and placing it in between the pages to save her spot in the book. It's then placed on the coffee table in front of her.

"Like, right now?" Your eyebrows furrowed slightly while you slid your hands up and down your jeans, brushing off some crumbs that had stuck onto your skin.

"Yeah." You couldn't really deny her, because what she's said was true. But it was quite odd, because she could have asked earlier. Maybe the idea had come in her head just now, you thought.

"When the sun is going down?" You had a confused smile as you made your way over to her, going to lean beside her from the back of the couch. Her gaze was all on you while you talked.

"Yes?" She says naturally, as if she had asked in the middle of the day, while the sun was high in the sky and the wind would send a slight shiver down your spine.

But outside, the skies were blue and starting to mix with shades of red and oranges, clouds melting in some places. It was no longer the light blue color that had fluffy clouds laid over it earlier in the day.

Contemplating the decision, your eyes linger on the couch before they drift over to her. Her face is calm, but her eyes hold a look of hoping you'll take her offer.

"As long as we get ice cream or something." You shrug, your voice soft, and a smile raises on her lips. She gets up from the couch with the help of her hands and grabs her leather jacket hanging off the arms of the couch.

"I'm sure we will." She says, the pitch of her voice going up slightly to enunciate the last word of her sentence. Nat goes off to the hallways, with you following behind her.

You were curious, because she hadn't suggested a specific place you were going to go to, simply to spend some time out with you. The two of you arrive in front of the elevator, and the widow presses the down button with her finger. A ding was heard almost instantly, because the compound was so empty of anyone.

You step onto the elevator along with Nat once the doors opened, and she presses the parking floor button. Nothing but a comforting silence filled the quiet ride down. Although it did include some quiet whooshing from the fancy elevator Tony installed.

You arrive, and the doors slide open. You go out after the redhead, making sure your pace was slightly faster to catch up and walk beside her instead of a little behind.

When she arrives at her motorcycle, she grabs her helmet that she left on the seat and gives it to you, wanting you to have the security on your head. And she's rode on her motorcycle many times in emergencies without her helmet and turns out fine.

She checks that you have everything safely done. The latch of the helmet to secure it on your head, and that the visor was down. Nat then grabs out her keys from her pocket and inserts a specific one for the vehicle.

When it was twisted, she gets on the seat and looks to you as she waits for you to sit behind her and get comfortable. Once you were, she lifts the stand off the floor and then turns on the engine.

Making sure everything was good, and that you had your arms around her waist, she then slowly backs out from the small parking spot, turning the wheel and then driving out the garage.

The sun kissed your skin as soon as you went outside, while her orange hair elicits a slight glow in the sunlight.

You got on the main road, and you feel the wind hitting against every part of you even through your clothes. One of your favorite things whenever you went out with Nat was always this. Her being simply near you, just so close with your arms around her. The wind, watching cars passing by you without having to look out the window, and the feeling of the engines rattling to your bones.

You take a look around with a tight grip on her, and the city was a lovely sight with the sun setting in the background. It was slowly turning to a shade of pink, the orange fading away.

Your mind took every second to preserve this in your memories the best, as you always had whenever spending time with her. Your head moves to rest against her back. She was focused on driving, but feeling the movement and slight weight behind her warmed her heart nonetheless.

As Nat drove, she gets a text from Wanda, her phone lighting up on the phone holder she had set up on her motorcycle. Her eyes darts down for a split second, before focusing on the road once more.

The message had said; Nat! We have a bit of a problem...We're still taking care of some things. You might have to stall a little.

You didn't see it, considering you were behind her, and you were more so focused on the scenery around you. It seems you were starting to near the bottom side of a small mountain.

Her bike scales a bit of it until she slows down at a good spot, where there were now sidewalks beside the road. The motorcycle comes to a stop, and she puts her feet down, also making sure to put down the stand.

You were a little confused, because there was still a bit of road to go, even if you've gotten to almost the top of the mountaib. She got off her seat, her hand lingering on her bike.

"Okay, from here on out we have to walk." She nods her head towards the small dirt path that had trees in the clearing, and fallen leaves on the ground.

"What? The road doesn't lead to where we're going?" You do love yourself a little walk, but the sky was getting dark. You get off the motorcycle as she did earlier, and it stayed still even with the road slanted just a bit thankfully.

"No, it's a bit of an isolated spot." She says, trying her best to brush off your question, walking away to the dirt path that was surrounded by green trees.

"The scenery is amazing, I promise." She raises her eyebrows and tilts her head slightly, waiting for you to give in.

"Well..." You were on your way to protest with her, considering the walk, but the path looked so alluring. Even though it was starting to get dark, there seems to be a few old lamposts further in on the path.

"Okay." At your agreement, Nat nods and turns to lead you down the path. You follow her along, your steps quiet on the dirt path.

As you walk, you look at the sky, the color going to a deeper color of blue. The crickets were also making noise somewhere in the woods, putting on a more comfortable atmosphere with the orange lampposts.

Nat would always keep you safe, anyway. She keeps her eye on you and alert of her surroundings while you walked together, but the path held little to no sign of danger unless you'd have tripped and fell.

"Whoaa! Nat, look!!" You out your hand on her shoulder, and she looks to where you were pointing. In the view ahead, she sees a few dim lights that weren't lampposts.

"Fireflies." She says in a whisper of awe, just as you were as you walked towards it and stared at the bioluminescent beings flying around gently in the trees.

If you had brought a jar then perhaps you would have been able to catch them, but nonetheless they are mesmerizing to simply look at.

As you continue walking on, there was a small lake, and you stay as close as you can to Nat, the darkness surrounding and on the lake slightly setting off your safety system, but the stars and the moon in the sky reflecting within the moving water manages to calm your nerves a bit.

It was a beautiful sight, really. If you were in the city, there were at least about one or two stars you could spot. Maybe the view would look a lot better in the daytime, and it would be a good spot to relax at.

Nat went walking forward, moving in the lit up path that lead to, well, you don't even know. Your eyes focused on her moving figure, and she turns her head to look at you for a second, giving you a reassuring smile as you made your way to the end of the path.

When you walked out the small forest, you then see a road. And almost instantly, you look at her bewildered, turning to her.

"We could have driven here, Nat!" You say, putting your arm up towards the road to exaggarate your sentence. And as it was like at the dirt path, the road of course has streetlights.

"The road earlier didn't lead to here." She reasoned, and you shake your head as she continued her journey to who knows where. Apparently the forest wasn't what she wanted to show you, you thought.

"Are we there yet?" You ask, only the streetlights illuminating your face as you followed her. It isn't as scary when you look at the view of the city from the mountain you're standing on. You could see every car light, and building thats lit on. She was right on the scenery being amazing.

"Nope." She says softly, her head looking straight, while her legs kept her moving on the side of the empty road.

"Why are we walking outside when it's nighttime?" You ask another question, her odd state making you quite curious on what this is leading to.

"The view is better at nighttime. Look at the stars." She reasoned once more, and this time you knew there must be something more she's keeping from you. But you just can't seem to put a finger on what.

You look up, admiring the glowing lights, but then something else glowing caught your eye. Your eyes drift down as you and Nat walked, and you see a small shop lit up just across from you.

You read the shop name and got to see a bit of the inside through the windows, and it was what seemed to be a bakery, or an ice cream shop, or both.

"Did we really walk all the way here for ice cream?" Once you were in front of the shop, surprisingly, it was still open. The redhead opens the door and walks in, holding it open for you while you followed her.

"It's good ice cream, but no, we came for something else." Her hand lets go of the handle after you got inside, letting it slide smoothly back closed. There was someone cleaning up a table, while another stood at the cash register, doing their job. It must be the end of their shift soon, you thought. Until you two probably came along.

"You're really not gonna tell me, are you?" You ask her once more, unconvinced of the fact that she only brought you to walk this far to see fireflies, or the lake, or the stars. Although it is endearing.

"Don't worry, its just a few feet away now." One corner of her lips quirks up, talking with you with a small smirk. Cheeky.

She walks up to the staff member at the front. They were wearing a cap, and their uniform. Nat orders her ice cream, along with yours after she asked you what you wanted.

There were some pastries, too, and you decided on getting one. The worker gets back to the cash register to hand you both your ice cream and a bag of the pastry. Nat pays them, and then goes to find a seat with you.

Since they were all empty, you simply chose whichever one looked the most comfortable. The two of you sit down, the ice cream a delicious taste to your mouthes.

As you enjoyed it, you open the bag, wanting to try out the other dessert you bought. When you took a bite, it quite possibly became your favorite. You might visit this shop every now and then now.

You hold it out for Nat to try, and she takes it. She has a taste, and hums in approval. Slowly, you finish your ice cream as she does for hers. Nat's eyes linger on your face, while seeming like she was trying to supress a smile. And she was.

Her hand reaches up to wipe away a small bit of ice cream on the tip of your nose, and you smile at the gesture.

Her phone dings and lights up, a new message coming up on the screen. You were curious, but you didn't get a chance to look as she took it. You put the last of your ice cream cone into your mouth, the pieces crunching away. She already finished hers.

"Who are you texting?" You ask after swallowing. Her eyes doesn't leave her phone screen until she sends her message and turns off her phone. Suspicious. Not in the cheating way, no obviously, Nat would never do that. But it was suspicious.

"It's Yelena. She's just wondering where we are." You squint your eyes at her sentence, not fully trusting it, but you did see Yelena's profile picture on the screen for a split second, so she's not lying, maybe.

"Yeah...speaking of, where are we going? I know you did not just make us walk all the way here for just ice cream." You raise your eyebrows at her before moving to lean against her shoulder.

"You'll see." One of her arms were around your body, embracing you in a side hug but also holding you protectively while you rested your head on her shoulder.

In the corner of her eyes, she sees the woman at the cash register staring for a little too long now, and she gives her a deadly glare.

"Well, do you wanna see where we're going or not?" She asks you, and you quickly sit up off her shoulder when she moved to stand up. You let a huff of a laugh and smile when her hand reaches out to help pull you off the seat easily. Your hand grabs the small bag of what held the dessert earlier, going to throw it in a nearby trash can, considering it was now empty.

Nat was already waiting by the entrance for you, and you go to her, walking back outside to leave the employees of the restaurant to rest. Outside was darker, but in a way, it still held a somewhat comforting atmosphere, what, with the many lights in the distance, and the moon greeting you two once more.

Nat was walking slow. Why was she walking so slow? She's the fastest whenever you had morning jogging. Maybe she was getting tired, too? You didn't mind anyway, your legs were starting to get sore.

When you get to your destination, her feet stops and you almost run into her, accidentally zoning out during the walk.

"Alright, and we have arrived." Nat said, her voice steady, but inside her nerves were on fire along with her heart beating faster. You look up, and see that she was looking at a house. From the windows, you could see that the lights were already turned on.

"To a...house?" You say, confusedly, assuming it's a stranger's house, or someone she or you know, or a house she got for you to hang out at, as you did sometimes on holidays.

"I mean...it's a beautiful house, but what?" She raises her eyebrows at you with a growing smile while you had your eyebrows furrowed, getting more confused.

"Okay, you have been acting weird ever since we went out. Just tell me what's going on." Your hands gesture at her as if to make her look and think about what she's been doing the past hour.

"I have a good reason for it." She says, taking a look at the watch on her arm. After about fifteen seconds or so, your phone dings with a notification, but you couldn't be bothered to look at it now, especially when Nat finally looked at you, but with an adorable face.

"Well...surprise, and happy birthday." She takes out a key from her pocket and gently grabs one of your hands, placing it in your palm. You blinked for a second, then for a minute or so until you registered what was happening, your eyes widening.

You looked at the house with lit windows in front of you, then back to her, and to the house once more, not believing she had done such a thing, but oh, your heart was doing leaps within your chest when you realized.

"Nat. No way." You look down at the key in your hand. One that holds the way to unlocking a house just for the two of you. And one that might lead to your entire heart and love for her pouring down.

"It's our house." She nods, happy that she got such a reaction out of you. Her eyes were completely focused on you.

"I didn't wanna drive here because there were still some preparations needed, and we would've arrived before they were finished." She says. Nat knows how much you've been wanting a house of your own with her that you two could live in. You've been talking about it and has discussed it with her, but you didn't expect it to come today.

"I also wanted to show you when the clock hit twelve." She holds up her arm, showing you the time. Technically this wasn't in her plan, but with the time spent of your small hike and the two of you hanging out at the ice cream shop, it seemed perfect.

"You still could have just asked me to go later in the day!" You let out a small chuckle, and she raises one single finger at you to stop you from going any further.

"To be fair, we were originally supposed to arrive when the sun was still setting." She explains, making sense of the whole weird situation. She had to deal with being nervous at first, and then she had to stall time for you somehow. You raise a brow at her.

"It came up while I was driving." She shrugs and smiles sheepishly. You smile back at her just the same amount, rolling your eyes just slightly.

"I can't believe your idea to add more time was to take a walk in the forest with me." You were amused to say the least. Yes, god, you're the happiest person in the world right now to get such a birthday present from her of this, but teasing her is so fun.

"The lake looks better in the daytime! I promise," she says, laughing. "But now we're actually here, so let's go in." Her tone was excited, as if she hadn't gone in the house before. But she was thrilled to see your reaction to it, and happy that you're happy about it.

"Yeah!...I need to sit down," you say, remembering the key in your hand again but then your legs started to get sore, and your mind also needed you to sit down to process what's happened for a moment.

"Do you need me to carry you?" She teases, putting her arms out slightly to ready herself carrying you all the way to the house. You turn away, going to walk towards it.

"No, I can make it. It's not like I'll trip and fall or anything." And right as you said that, one of your foot accidentally gets stuck on a small rock as you walked, making you almost fall, but you manage to regain your balance quickly. Nat had her arms around your body already, preparing to catch you.

"You were saying?" She raises her eyebrows at you, tilting her head as she leaned forward. But her eyes held a small look of concern. You give her a tight-lipped smile, but your hand goes to intertwine with her. Well, if you fall down now she'll go down with you. I'm joking. It's sweet and endearing, the two of you walking to where you might live the rest of your lives.

You arrive at the front door with her beside you, and you take a deep breath, moving your hand that held the key to insert it in the keyhole. It fits perfectly. Nat's hand goes to embrace your hand that's holding the key.

Her warmth on your skin and how she looked at you like you were the whole world made you want to preciously store this special memory even more. You twist the key with her, and a click was heard.

Slowly, you open the door and walk in with her. Your heart was beating in anticipation. The light hits your face and you squint your eyes for a second, being in the darkness for so long making it blinding. When you fully got in with Nat, you blink until your eyes got used to it.

The place was beautiful. Oh, so beautiful, and cozy. But why was the lights on? Did she leave them on before she left? Or--

"SURPRISE!!!" The whole Avengers team jumps up, some from couches, some from behind the island of the kitchen and one, from the stairs.

"Oh my god!" Your reaction came quickly, jumping from their sudden appearance. Your eyes widened at every person you saw. Even Nat was surprised, even if she expected it. But she got over it quickly, and smiled almost at the same time as you did.

"What are you all doing here?! Did you plan this?" Your face was bright with joy. And you were frozen at the entrance still. A breath of a laugh comes out from your mouth, shocked over everything happening.

"Yep! In courtesy of Nat." Wanda says, her eyes set on her steady hands holding a...birthday cake?! It even had candles lit up and everything. And it was your favorite flavour. The direction she was walking in was towards you.

"We're actually just here for the cake." Stark says, gesturing towards the dessert, his eyebrows raising before he smiled.

"I'm kidding, you guys can do whatever alone. We only brought the cake for you two and its getting late." He adds on to his sentence, and you shake your head at him while Nat rolled her eyes playfully.

"...But Yelena did kind of steal one slice." Wanda quietly says to you as you blow on the candles with one missing after you had your wish in mind. The cake was obviously missing a piece, but you didn't mind.

"Aw, боже мои (my god), you snitch!" Yelena says, almost about to curse Wanda out in russian, but holds back. She was holding a black cat in her arms, and your eyes brightened up even more when you saw it.

"YOU GOT US A CAT?!!" You didn't even care about the slice of cake nor was it even on your mind the second you laid your eyes on the small adorable fluffball wrapped up in Yelena's arms.

When Wanda moved aside to let you see it more, you almost ran straight to it, careful not to accidentally bump the cake in her arms.

You got in front of Yelena, and close up, you could see the fur shining the lights in the house. The cat must have had the cleanest bath earlier. You touch it with even just a slight brush on the head, and it was the softest thing you've touched.

With how close you were, you could hear the purring. Eventually, its eyes start to open, revealing a pair of soft yellow eyes. Nat walks up from behind you, staring at your interaction with it.

"Her name is Liho." Natasha says softly, watching the black cat's tail move smoothly while it watched you, blinking and taking in the new face in front of it.

"I love her!!" You say, adoring the new small friend, your hands holding its head delicately. Liho closed her eyes once more, and the purring felt against your hands made your heart melt.

"...And I love you!!!" Your hand drifts off the cat's head, going over to your side as you quickly ran over to hug Nat tightly. She blushed slightly and smiled, but trying not to show it too much, especially in front of the entire team.

Yelena continues to hold Liho, looking at the warming interaction the two of you had.

"Aw, how cute. But I did most of the work here while your girlfriend was relaxing with you! I had to take this little cat to the vet and everything and get her a collar." You let out a small giggle at her while Nat rolled her eyes once more.

"Well, relaxing, sure, if that's what you call hiking all the way here is." You say jokingly, and Nat looked at you with her mouth open slightly.

"That's how she managed to stall you?" Wanda asked, a small chuckle making its way out her mouth.

"It was a small walk! And I treated you to ice cream after." She says, defending herself from it. The ice cream was delicious, after all.

"There is an ice cream shop nearby?" A tall blonde with a deep voice asks. Or, well, Thor. You give him a small wave, and he waves back with his hand that wasn't holding the Mjölnir, smiling.

"Yeah! Everything's delicious there. I don't know if it's still open though." You say, warning Thor that he could be up for major disappointment if he went and is greeted with a closed ice cream shop.

"Ah, I will set that as my next destination then," he says anyway, craving far too much for an ice cream at the moment.

"What are you, a GPS Navigator now?" Another blonde says. Clint was on the stairs, sitting on it casually as if the couch didn't have any free space. Well, that was him anyway. He sits in the vents sometimes, so it isn't surprising.

Yelena laughs loudly, while Wanda giggled softly. Tony just let out one "Ha!" and Nat tried to suppress her laugh. She looked adorable with that smile.

As the room calmed down and some started talking to the other, Yelena bumps her shoulder with yours lightly, since she couldn't really move her arms.

You look, and she holds out Liho, the cat's small paws hanging off her hand. Nat was sat down on the couch talking with Wanda, so you and Yelena are alone in the interaction.

"You want to hold her?" she asks, knowing you would full on accept her offer because you've been saying how you want to get a cat while she was aiming for a dog, in which, she is soon getting one, meaning the both of you will have a pet.

"Yeah!" You say in the giddiest voice. She carefully gives you the cat, making sure it was in your arms properly. Liho had closed her eyes instantly as soon as she felt the warmth your body held.

"You know, we haven't done one last thing yet." Wanda says, standing up after finishing her conversation with Nat.

"Everyone!" Wanda announces, causing everyone to stop talking and turn their heads to look at her. "In 1, 2, 3," she counts, you looking at her curiously while everyone seemed ready and changing their gaze to you instead.

"Happy birthday!" They all said at once, making Liho perk up at the sudden noise, but calm back down and lay comfortably against your arms once she realizes no danger is near.

"Thank you, all of you," you say, with the biggest smile you've had yet. Your face musces were going to ache from how much happiness it's been doing recently.

"How did you all even plan this?" You wondered curiously, noting the amount of people in the house and that they had all managed to do it without accidentally spilling it to you.

"I got the cake." Thor says proudly. Somehow the cake was perfect, and nothing went to a disastrous road. Or, well...at least to the cake.

"It was a little chaotic." Tony squints his eyes, showing his teeth in his slight look of somewhat grimace. Everyone else was focused on the conversation, keen on finding out what's happened this time.

"No. No, it wasn't," he denies, blinking and tucking his lips into his mouth. He knew he was wrong, but he hated to not win an argument or let Tony ruin his pride of being able to get the cake.

"Let's be honest, you asked the shop owner if he could make a giant sculpture of you, with fireworks, and big writing at the bottom, and all of it being cake. And you also added that you wanted it as your favorite pop tart flavour." Tony ranted, explaining the many things Thor's said he wanted on a single cake. At least you had an idea of what to do for Thor's birthday now.

"I'm sure the shop owner had a headache while arguing with you that it's too much." Stark scratched the back of his head slightly. Meanwhile, Thor had his mouth moving while he tried to think of a sentence to fire back.

"Okay, fine, maybe just a little...chaotic." He backed down, out of comebacks for words, possibly from being sleepy at how late it's getting, and also not wanting to cause a big argument on your birthday.

"I went to the vet with Yelena." Clint said, raising his hand as if he was in a classroom. Your hands were going through the soft fur of the said cat Clint and Yelena brought to the vet. That's where Liho got the bath that made her fur so shiny, you guessed.

"Oh, I set up the house and made sure everything was under control!!" Wanda followed along with her hand raised, too, a smile on her face. She did an amazing job of keeping things together, with everything going almost exactly as planned. Although Nat suspected something chaotic had happened during the time she had to stall you.

"I...uh, I didn't even really do anything, I just drove everyone here." Tony shrugs, his face tired from all the driving around he's done, but he was calm.

"And I, am the main planner, who is now looking at the time and saying that you are all now well over your time in visiting!" Nat stands up, urging everyone to now go out. They all follow her orders, not wanting to make a black widow mad so late in the night. They might all have nightmares haunted by her, possibly.

They all say their goodbyes, going through the front door one by one. You couldn't really imagine what just happened, but it's real. The cat in your arms, the furniture around you, and Nat standing at the door. The door of your shared home, closing it and walking over to you.

"You're amazing for all this," you whisper, and though it was quiet, she could hear you because she was so close to you. She rests her arms on your shoulders, going around your neck slightly.

"I couldn't have done it if you weren't so trusting of me." At that, the both of you laugh for a small few seconds, remembering how you followed her even though it was through a dark forest, and an ice cream shop.

"I'd go anywhere with you." You say, leaning ever so closer to her. Neither of you noticed until a small meow sounded underneath you, Liho still nestled within your arms. Nat looks down along with you.

She lets out an "aw," and steps back a bit to pet the cat. Liho was already familiar to her and to her touch, considering Nat's bonded with her over the past few days. Or well, years. She found the stray cat out in the street, until it followed her around and soon enough now became her little friend.

"I don't even have the words to say it..." You say, unable to make up a way to say just how much you adored her and all the things she did. Nat looks back up at you before standing up properly, a soft smile on her face.

"...You don't have to say anything." She gently says. Liho jumps out from your arms smoothly, and the two of you look at her go off to wherever, before focusing back on each other.

She puts her arms around your waist instead, her eyes traveling around yours, in search of what? You don't know. Perhaps just to figure out your thoughts.

"I love you," the words come out easily from your mouth. Oh, so easily. She wonders how you do it. But instead of words, she goes and slowly leans in and captures your lips with hers.

Although it was short, it was endearing. You pull away soon enough, and laid your head against her shoulder, your arms on her back. She carefully holds you, looking around at the home you two have.

"Let's go rest now, yeah?" Her hand tangles itself in your hair, going through it a bit. And she could notice your eyes already having that dozy, sleepy look.

The rest of the night was spent in a comfortable brand new bed, with you holding each other. The air was a comfortable cold, and Liho slept somewhere on the bed, near your legs.

You were careful not to accidentally hit her, but you probably couldn't anyway, since she laid on the blankets and your legs were under them.

A new morning later was in a changed life of yours. You still can't believe it wasn't just a dream.

------------------------

A/N: okay! lets all pretend I did not just forget steve. I realized that like 95% of the way through finishing it :') he's just uh busy on a mission or sleeping I guess...?

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@notevenanna @ludasgf @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @justanotherteenpoet @fxckmiup @dmenby3100 @animealways @natashasilverfox @wandsmxmff @simp-erformarvelwomen

[buzzcutlip]

Cracks and Gaps - The Cat Shrine (part III) Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader Explicit 8539 words

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than I expected but it's also packed with stuff that needs to be said and done. Plus! I believe this part offers all we've been waiting for iykwim

THE CAT SHRINE "Carmen!" You snap your fingers next to his ear.

"Yeah," he replies, blue eyes melting into yours like ice daggers.

"You're not concentrating," you accuse, huffing.

"I am!"

"You're so not."

Shaking your head, you put your phone down, tired of trying to show the chef the progress The Bear has made in its social media presence. You don’t think it’s important for him to know all the details, but he should be fully informed.

"You haven’t even downloaded Instagram, have you?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"Uhm…" Carmen shifts uncomfortably, guilt written all over his face.

"I knew it!" you exclaim. Although you want to be strict, wanting him to know you take your work seriously and wanting him to acknowledge it, you start laughing when you see the long face he’s pulling. He looks like a dog caught peeing on the rug.

"What’re you laughing at?" Carmen asks sullenly.

You shake your head. "Nothin'," but you still snicker. You like teasing him a little.

When you calm down, you take a sip of your soda from the funky Superdawg cup and take a deep breath. The parking lot offers no shade, and there’s sweat gathering at your hairline. You watch the two mascots—Laurie and Flaurie, sausages perched on the roof of the drive-in. Thousands of people must have done the exact same thing since this spot opened in the '50s.

"Do you think Nat really wants me at Pete’s birthday?" you ask, your face serious. From Carmen's expression, you can tell he appreciates the change.

"I think so," he affirms. "She wouldn’t have asked otherwise."

"She’s too nice. She knows I would find out about it eventually," you muse aloud. "Like, that would be awkward… I hope it’s not only 'cause of the interview and stuff."

Carmen lights a cigarette, shaking his head. "Bullshit." He always waits to smoke until no one around is eating.

You shrug, faking nonchalance, but the idea of Natalie inviting you out of obligation makes you feel sick to your stomach. You don’t need favors or fawning over.

Carmen blows the blue smoke in the opposite direction from you. "She likes you."

The car hood is hot under your butt, and your cutoff denim shorts aren’t doing much to protect your skin. You shimmy uncomfortably, hissing.

Next to you, Carmen looks down at you, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"It’s hot," you whine, trying to tug the shorts lower.

"You okay?" Carmen checks.

"I’m fine," you sigh. "I’m glad to be baking my ass on metal, actually," you say, picking the last bits of caramelized onion from the paper tray. "I watched The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo yesterday. Listened to way too much of Ethel Cain…"

Carmen keeps looking at you, clearly not following.

"'s dark stuff," you sigh again, being pretty dramatic just for effect. You definitely don’t feel too affected by Nordic crime books or songs about escaping a cult and cannibalism. It takes you somewhere else, mentally. Not a bad place, necessarily.

"Uhm—hopefully the hot dog’s cheered you up?" Carmen asks, popping a fry into his mouth, then wiping his hand with the back of his tattooed fingers. They’re long and graceful, the nail beds clean with minimal hangnails. You want to lick them clean.

You give him a smile. A genuine one. "Yep."

Not just the hot dog.

Carmen’s brows furrow a bit as he glances at you, a small smile playing on his lips despite himself. "You’re hard to read sometimes. Like—hm—I don’t know if you’re joking or not."

"You say that like it’s a bad thing," you tease, giving him a playful nudge. His hand steadies itself on the hood as the sun glints off it, the Chicago heat thick in the air around you.

"It’s not," Carmen says, his tone softer now. "It feels more genuine. Authentic. It’s kinda... nice."

You raise an eyebrow, amused by his awkward sincerity. "Kinda?"

Carmen chuckles, shaking his head as if embarrassed by the admission. "Fine. It’s nice."

You smirk, pleased with yourself for drawing him out of his usual seriousness.

"Nat wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t want you there, you know," Carmen says, circling back to your earlier worry.

"I guess," you reply, still a bit skeptical. "Just don’t wanna be somewhere I don’t really belong."

Carmen’s gaze hardens a little, a quiet determination settling in his voice. "You do belong."

You meet his eyes, surprised at the firmness in his words. For all his hesitation and self-doubt, Carmen has a way of saying the simplest things with absolute certainty when he means it.

"Okay," you reply quietly.

—

In the late afternoon, you arrive at Pete and Natalie’s house. The sunlight’s casting a warm glow over the tree-lined streets, and you’re grateful that the heat’s eased off and you aren’t sweaty and gross before you get in. The house is beautifully maintained, with a fresh coat of paint, a well-kept yard, and soft music spilling out through the open windows. Pete’s job clearly allows them a bit of comfort. For the first time since you were here, all those months ago, you notice these little details.

As you make your way up the walkway, you notice a stroller parked just inside the entryway, along with a soft baby blanket draped over the arm of a chair near the door—the quiet reminders of Natalie and Pete’s new life as parents. You hear soft baby coos over the sound of conversation, which makes you smile. Yet, it’s a reminder that maybe you yourself should start thinking of this kind of life. A life with a serious partner you might start a family with. Someone you will spend the rest of your life with. Probably. Hopefully.

Inside, the party is subdued yet lively. Guests drift through the kitchen and living room, chatting and laughing. You greet a few familiar faces, but you’re not really that close with most of them. The place is clean and pretty, the opposite of the mess you experienced in May. You quickly spit out your gum into a tissue you find in your pocket.

Richie finds you first, thrusting a glass of mimosa in your hand. You didn’t plan on drinking, but this could help with your nerves. You’re not great in new settings, around people you don’t know very well. Luckily, you’re pretty good with kids and you really like Natalie, so when she spots you, you spend about 30 minutes chatting while a few people gather around you. She gives you the baby to hold, and the little boy dozes off in your arms. When Nat takes him back to put him down in the crib, you excuse yourself from Jimmy’s wife and another older lady to go find water and maybe something small to eat.

The kitchen is quiet compared to the rest of the house, and you’re not surprised to find Carmen there, cutting carrots into precise sticks, his knife moving with calm precision. He doesn’t notice you at first, so you have a moment to take in his wide, muscled back under a thin sweater. It’s a very, very nice back that you would really, really like to see without any clothes.

You shake your head, pulling yourself together.

You clear your throat. “Hi.”

The sound startles him, and he jumps, the knife slipping from his fingers onto the cutting board with a loud clatter. “Fuck!” he mutters, spinning around to see you.

“Sorry!” you hurry to apologize, walking all the way to him. “Did you cut yourself?”

“No, it’s fine,” Carmen reassures you, taking a deep breath. “Hey,” he greets you back, a bit calmer now. He seems a bit surprised to see you.

“So, I find you in the kitchen, of all places,” you say with a smile, leaning on the wall. Under your arm is a thick paper envelope with the fresh magazine issue inside.

“I thought maybe you wouldn’t come.” His expression shifts to something warm, less guarded than what you’re used to. You almost blush at his words, unsure of what to take away from them.

Your fingers tighten around the envelope for a moment before you gather the courage to hand it over to him. “I wanted to show you this today.”

Carmen’s gaze drops to the big envelope, and he takes it from you. When he opens it, he sees himself on the cover, and there’s a pause. The main title reads, "Chef Carmen: The Story That Matters."

You feel a slight flutter of nerves. “I wanted to give you a chance to see it before anyone else. We just received a couple of copies yesterday. It’s not on newsstands for another week.”

Carmen nods but stays quiet, just flipping through the pages. You made sure Nat went over the final images with him, confirming he’s okay with the selection, and with the cover that features him wearing a pair of smart black pants and a white t-shirt revealing his tattoos. You see him skimming the article, glancing at the photos of himself in the kitchen and on the set. There are a couple with the whole team at The Bear.

“It’s… weird,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Seeing myself like this.”

You tilt your head curiously. “You’ve been in magazines. Even on the cover.”

“Yeah—just—” he glances back at the pages. “Not with a project that’s as personal as The Bear.”

You nod, understanding. It is revealing. While transcribing the interview and writing the whole feature, you finally had a chance to see through the cracks and gaps and get a glimpse of the real Carmen. The one hiding behind his unapproachable facade.

Carmen shakes his head, chuckling softly. “It’s… a lot. But it’s good,” he admits, his voice soft. He looks back at you, and you can feel the gratitude there, unspoken but genuine. “Thank you. You put a lot of work into this.”

You give a small shrug, trying to keep your own emotions in check.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I doubted you.” The reference to the bumpy start stings, and you almost grimace. “It’s… it’s everything you’ve done to get us here. I don’t think anyone’s ever believed in me like that.”

You want to say something silly, like, “Oh, I knew you’d be the top chef in Copenhagen already,” but you can’t get the words out. You don’t frequent The Bear as often as you used to. After the incident with Carmen, and even after all the apologies, you agreed they would find a proper social media manager, and you would help occasionally. But now you’ve started meeting Carmen outside the kitchen much more, venturing further into the restaurant world with a top chef as your guide. He’s changed, you think. Maybe both of you have.

Finally, Carmen breaks the silence, letting out a small, almost bashful laugh. “Guess I should, uh, keep this somewhere safe?”

You smile, relieved to feel the tension ease, and nod. “Yeah, please. Maybe show it to them when you’re back at work tomorrow? I’m sure Sydney and the others would get a kick out of seeing it.”

You watch Carmen tuck the magazine back into the envelope, and you feel the moment slipping past you. You clear your throat, gathering yourself before you speak.

“Actually, there’s… this event next week,” you start, fidgeting slightly. “It’s a charity cocktail—kind of formal, for a nonprofit that supports community kitchens. I wanted to ask if you’d come with me.”

Carmen raises an eyebrow, caught between curiosity and amusement. “Me?”

“Yeah,” you say with a shrug that you hope comes off casual. “I mean, you’re on the cover of Taste now, and people will hear about it soon. Thought it’d be nice to… y’know, show you off a little.”

He looks down, an almost shy grin tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t think I was the ‘show-off’ type.”

“Oh, you totally are,” you reply, grinning. “Besides, Nat mentioned you might need to make an appearance or two—good publicity for The Bear and all that.”

Carmen nods, as if he’s already half-resigned. “She has been dropping hints,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to ask if you’d come with me to it, too. Got the invite a few weeks back.”

“Oh,” you say, raising your eyebrows. “I thought we’re friends now. You should've asked sooner,” and you hope the word “friends” sounds as casual as you intended.

“Okay—then yes,” Carmen says, and there’s a challenge in his voice, his face serious. It’s clear he doesn’t want to seem like someone afraid of public events and social gatherings in general. You do know the truth, which makes you chuckle.

“How fancy is the event, you think?” he checks, sounding slightly discouraged now.

“Not that fancy, don’t worry.” You grin, leaning a bit closer. “Nothing that calls for a tux, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh, I can wear a tux,” he juts out his chin, and it’s such a sudden change to his normal demeanor that you feel a bit weak in the knees for a second. Confidence suits him, as you know. And not only while he’s being the Chef.

“No doubt,” you agree with a smile, taking a tray with homemade hummus and carrot sticks from him.

“Oh—I’ve been meaning to ask you,” you remember as you’re both exiting the kitchen with more prepared food in your hands. “How did you survive the photo shoot and interview without any smoke breaks?”

He looks up at you and stays quiet for a moment.

“Nicotine patches. I had to put on three at the same time.”

And you laugh.

—

Carmen picks you up on Thursday at six-thirty. You chew through half a packet of gum while getting ready. A mix of feelings is swirling around in your stomach—excitement, nervousness, and an utter disbelief that you’re so worked up about a professional evening with Carmen.

When he buzzes the intercom, you jump, giving yourself an unnecessary scare, then roll your eyes at yourself. Grabbing a small black purse, you lock up behind yourself and make your way down the four flights of stairs. The air outside is slightly cool from the late afternoon rain, the fresh smell hitting your nose and making you nostalgic.

“Oh my god,” your heart drops to your stomach the second you look at Carmen, who is blankly staring with the most perplexed expression you’ve ever seen. “Have I messed up? Is this inappropriate?” Trying to read more from Carmen’s face, you lift your trembling hands to your mouth. What have you done? Why do you always have to have your way?

You look down at your draped top, barely covering your shoulders, and wide, pleated pants you opted for instead of a more traditional skirt or dress. You’re also wearing high-heeled Mary Janes that bring you to the same height level as Carmen. You hoped he’d get the fashion statement.

“I’m—I can change,” you stammer, turning halfway back to the door, already thinking about what you could swap this for.

As Carmen starts saying, “No, no,” you say, “It said semi-formal.” Carmen reaches for your hand and gently pulls it from your mouth. You’re still confused and freaking out, not understanding anything.

“I just meant—I just wanted to say,” Carmen swallows, “that you look lovely.”

“Oh god,” you sigh heavily with relief, and you both laugh—Carmen a bit awkwardly, and you breathlessly. “Screw you.” You’re pretty sure you feel two stones lighter suddenly.

It’s only later, when you’re both sitting in the back of a taxi taking you to The Field Museum, that you realize what Carmen said. He said you looked pretty. Oh.

—

“This is going to be so awkward,” Carmen says, his eyes never leaving the big, open door with a stream of nicely dressed people heading in through it. The large, Neoclassical building is imposing with its massive Corinthian columns, giving off an air of true greatness.

“Oh, c’mon,” you whine. “I’m actually really excited to see it from the inside without the usual visitors. It’s gonna be fine. You can even get drunk, if you want to.”

“Uh—I don’t really drink,” Carmen says as he finishes off his cigarette, stubbing the end and flicking the butt into the ashtray.

“Maybe tonight you will.” You smile sweetly. Of course, you would never even think of pressuring Carmen—or anyone— into drinking alcohol, but the faded image of the two of you in his houseboat in Copenhagen pops into your head.

“We can just check out Ancient Egypt and go,” you suggest as you watch Carmen fidget nervously from the corner of your eye.

He gives you a tight smile, one that doesn't reach his eyes, then offers you his arm, and together you go in.

The East Atrium is lit up and arranged with round tables and smaller, tall bar tables. It’s a modern addition to the museum designed to blend with the historic architecture. Through the large windows facing the lake, you can see the sun starting to set. There are fresh flowers—hydrangeas, peonies, and tuberose—in the vases decorating the space, and you can’t help but touch the soft petals as you stand by one of the arrangements.

Carmen’s gaze shifts around the room. His arm tenses slightly under your hand, and you can tell he's trying to look relaxed, even as his fingers keep flexing in his pocket. “See? It’s nice in here, right?” you whisper, trying to catch his eye, hoping for a little reassurance that he’s not hating every second. So far, you’ve only met two people you know—clients who regularly advertise in Taste and who did recognize Carmen, pulling him into an intense conversation about cooking stoves. When he spoke to the clients, you noticed his voice was polite but guarded, the rhythm clipped, almost rehearsed. Different from when he talks to you.

Carmen gives a reluctant nod. “Yeah, it’s…not bad.” He scans the room again, and you feel for him, guessing he’s probably trying to uncover any other potential danger. Then he notices the flowers you’ve gravitated toward, and his mouth quirks up—just a bit. “You really like flowers, huh?” he says quietly, watching you brush your fingers over the soft petals.

You grin and shrug. The scent of tuberose mingles with the warmth of the evening, and you get the best idea. “Want to skip the mingling and find the mummies?” you offer, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “I mean, what’s a night at the Field Museum without a little ancient history?”

Carmen lets out a soft chuckle, a rare sound that feels like a victory. “Yeah,” he says, sounding almost relieved. “Let’s do that.” As you make your way across the Atrium, Carmen keeps close by your side, your arms brushing. When he opens the door for you, his hand hovers just above the small of your back, the warmth radiating from his palm seeping into your spine through your clothes. The murmured “thanks” is the most you can do without embarrassing yourself.

—

“My dad is obsessed with mummies. He used to take me here at least twice a year when I was a kid,” you say as you aim your phone camera to capture the sleeping artifact. “I’ve never been here after the closing hours though.”

You send a quick, funny message to the chat group you have with your parents, and put the phone back into your purse. Although the narrow corridors and the displays are the same as they were years ago, it never gets old to you.

“I don’t think my parents took me places,” Carmen says next to you, studying the plaque next to the mummy and its decorated sarcophagus. “To cultural institutes and shit. We spent a lot of time at home, or running around our block.”

You feel a pang in your chest for little-boy Carmy. On the other hand, you know that you can’t judge other people’s experiences and the quality of their childhoods and lives based on yours.

“You’re here now. And you can ask anything. I can pretend to be a qualified guide,” you half-joke.

Carmen chuckles softly, though his gaze stays fixed on the ancient figure in its case. His eyes trace over the faded bandages, the meticulous, centuries-old work of preservation.

“It’s just an illusion. Most of the exhibits we see in museums have been stolen from the original countries as part of colonialism or wars,” you sigh, studying the gold jewelry in a display behind the thick glass. “It shouldn’t be like that.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of messed up.”

Next, you check the Book of the Dead and the reconstruction of the ancient marketplace. Here and there, you bump into other people drifting in from the atrium, taking the opportunity to experience the free exhibition too.

“I think I need a drink after the cat shrine,” Carmen points out once you make it back to the lively space of the Atrium. The glass ceiling reveals that the evening’s turned into night. “It was kinda creepy,” he says with a certain hint of unease. You chuckle, patting him lightly on the back. “I think that’s the point. Cats are guardians of the afterlife, gazing into your soul. Maybe they picked you out for judgment, Carmen.” He shudders slightly, pulling a face. “I’d rather stick to cooking for the living.”

More people approach you as you wait at the bar—old colleagues of Carmen from Ever, hospitality people you’ve interviewed, and Regina, the head of sales from Taste.

Carmen holds the two drinks as you find a table off to the side, both of you grateful for the secluded spot. He slides your drink over to you. The tired look on his face proves he’s not too thrilled about the impromptu reunion with old colleagues.

“Looks like you’ve got a fan club,” you point out. The way Regina was looking at Carmen sticks with you—the way she talked to him. Like she wanted to eat him alive. Or fuck him.

Carmen rolls his eyes. “Didn’t realize it’d be a whole industry meetup. Thought I was off-duty tonight.”

“You couldn't have possibly thought that.”

You mirror Carmen and take a sip of the drink to find out what he’s ordered for you.

“That’s—that’s licorice vodka,” you stammer out.

Carmen nods. “Yeah, can you believe they have it here?” A small, secretive smile plays around his eyes. “Did I hit the target, Copenhagen?” Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected nostalgia that hits you as you recognize the drink. It’s simple, unassuming, yet oddly perfect—a reminder of countless late nights and blurry memories from Denmark. You can’t believe he’s remembered. “Yeah,” you say, recovering. “You hit the target.”

Instead of pondering more about the reasons, or the lack of them, behind Carmen’s gesture, you look down at your feet, hissing. “Do your feet hurt?”

“Fuck yes. Like hell!” You can’t help but grimace as you shift your weight, feeling the pinch of your shoes.

Carmen watches you shuffle uncomfortably, and he hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, uh…you sure you’re okay?” he asks.

“It’s fine. I was expecting this.”

You take a sip of your drink again, thinking of what you want to say next.

“Do you do all this because of what happened?” you ask, looking at the floor behind his shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“The—what happened in the restaurant office,” you add in a small voice, hating to talk about the incident.

Carmen reaches out to lightly touch your hand on the table. “I should've never behaved that way. I was a real dick.”

“That mean yes or no?” you inquire, your heart picking up speed. You don’t know why you’re getting nervous again. “You’ve been super nice to me. And a—a good, uhm, friend.” You say the word ‘friend’ so tentatively it’s almost inaudible in the room. Maybe you hope Carmen’s gonna overhear. It’s such a fragile label of what’s between you.

Carmen actually huffs out a small laugh before he says: “Be nice to nice,” and you lift your head up to glance at him, finding him smiling, so you smile back. You just smile back and don’t say anything else. This is all you need.

—

The next morning, the sun feels harsher than it should. It streams through the blinds, making everything feel just a little too bright, a little too real after last night. You had expected to wake up tired, but what you didn’t expect was the quiet echo of Carmen’s smile and his casual, soft touches lingering in your chest and beneath your skin. Fuck, you think self-deprecatingly. You try to shake it off as you rush to work, but it’s impossible.

During the morning briefing, you keep checking your phone for new messages, but there are none from Carmen. It’s hard not to hope for a follow-up after last night. As innocent and friendly as the whole evening had been, ignoring your growing affection for the chef is impossible now.

When your phone buzzes during your lunch break, a quick glance at the screen tells you it’s Natalie, texting in her usual efficient bursts: Nat: New special menu to be launched tomorrow. Can you stop by The Bear tonight? Nat: Just to check how we wanna communicate it on SoMe. Nothing major! You barely finish reading before the familiar flutter sets in. Nothing major for Natalie usually means chaos in the making. But it’s not her message that has you rushing home after work—it’s the possibility of seeing Carmen again. By the time you’ve touched up your makeup and slipped into a new outfit, your nerves are buzzing. Carmen’s commented on your dresses a couple of times, so you feel like that’s definitely the right choice. You put together a dark blue button-through summer dress with tiny white dots, and a pair of cowboy boots, giving you a look that’s casually cool.

As you get ready, you wonder how Carmen feels about seeing you again so soon after last night. You wonder if he thought about the drink he picked for you, or the way he laughed—so much that his dimples, which you had almost forgotten about, kept appearing by his mouth.

The service is in full swing when you arrive, so you automatically use the back door, heading to the office as quickly as possible through the intensity of the kitchen. You don’t even try to catch a glimpse of blond hair or that familiar white chef’s jacket, even though you terribly want to.

“Looks like it’s already a madhouse,” you say, sliding into the chair next to Natalie in the office. “When isn’t it?” Nat quips, finally looking up with a wry smile. She nods toward the kitchen. “Carmy’s back there somewhere. I told him you’d swing by.” Your stomach does a little flip at the mention of his name, but you nod casually, as if it doesn’t affect you at all. “Okay, let’s see this menu then.”

Natalie starts explaining the dishes, her words efficient but animated, as she describes the seasonal ingredients and the thought behind the pairings. It’s funny how similar the siblings are. Maybe not at first glance, but as you’ve gotten to know them better, you notice the resemblance more often than not.

As if summoned by your thoughts, the door swings open, and Carmen steps out. His brows are furrowed in that intense, focused way that somehow makes him look even more attractive. Your breath catches, and you quickly look down at the paper in front of you, pretending to study the menu notes.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and quiet, as he approaches the table. He nods at Natalie, then turns his attention to you. His gaze flickers briefly to your dress. “Hi,” you reply, trying not to sound too breathless. “Thanks for coming,” Carmen says, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary before shifting back to Natalie. “So, what’s the plan?”

As Natalie launches into the logistics, you can’t help but steal glances at Carmen. He’s close enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne, and when his fingers brush yours as he passes a page of notes, it feels electric, sending a spark up your arm. If you’d struggled to concentrate earlier, it’s almost impossible now. And you’re the one who’s supposed to share ideas and opinions.

The whole thing stretches into a menu tasting in the only calmer spot in the kitchen—you taking photos just in case, brainstorming about the introduction wording. Then Carmen and Natalie get into a fight—unsurprisingly—before making up. It’s like being on a swing with them, and the whole environment of the kitchen—hot, fast, frantic—makes it even more intense.

—

Absolutely on purpose, you finish fiddling with Instagram just before 11:30 p.m. in the empty kitchen, getting up when you hear what must be Carmen taking out his civvies from his locker. You take your bomber jacket and a handbag, walking over there.

“Hi,” you say, and Carmen’s head pops up through the hole of his crewneck sweater.

“Hey,” he says back. “You’re still here?”

You nod. “Thank you again for yesterday. For taking me with you.”

Carmen looks up at you from where he’s changing his Birkenstocks for white sneakers. “Didn’t you take me with you?” he jokes.

“It was nice either way,” you say, putting on your jacket and hoping Carmen doesn’t hear the hope in your voice. It’s hard to keep the softness you feel for him out of your words.

Carmen hoists his backpack onto his shoulder. “You leaving too?”

“Yep.”

He holds the back door for you, touching your lower back lightly the way he had yesterday. You bite your lip at the slightest contact, resisting the urge to reach back and touch his hand.

You lean against the wall by the door as Carmen locks up and then lights up a cigarette. You haven’t talked much for the rest of the dinner service, but he seems more relaxed, smiles more often. It has you smiling too.

“What?” he checks when he looks over at you.

You shake your head but the smile persists. “Nothin’... I’m glad it all has worked out,” you sigh with relief and content.

Carm blows the smoke above his head, watching it disappear. “Thanks to you,” he says seriously. 

“No. No, we talked about this yesterday. I don’t need any credit in this,” you’re shaking your head in resolution, a frown forming on your face. “I don’t want it.”

He steps closer, crowding you against the wall, intention flashing in his eyes, and you can't breathe. Can't imagine that the timid chef would want - that he would want you in a way you've been wanting him. 

Carmen gets into your space, and your hands land on his waist, finding purchase on the waistband of his jeans. “Carmy,” you breath out quietly, head tilted down. You don't know what's going to happen but the close proximity to the chef makes you breathless. His hands cradle your face. You only feel the gentle touch, scared to face Carmen fully. But you can smell him again - his deodorant and hair product. Cigarettes. 

He surprises you though. “Why do you always smell like cinnamon?” he mumbles, his breath tickling the baby hair around your ear, his mouth an inch from it. 

“It's the - the gum,” you answer, trying to stay calm despite your heart beating like crazy. Only now you do realize you called him Carmy. It felt right. 

You're not sure for how much longer you can stay still, but Carmen seems to have no trouble dragging the situation out. You are restless, though, you just have to do something. 

So you tilt your face up and you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss him. Just to press your lips against Carmy’s, nothing else. It’s actually more of an act to break the tension than an actual kiss. You feel absolutely stupid a mere second after you are back on your feet fully, Carmen right in front of you, unmoving.

“Am I reading this all wrong?” you ask when the chef remains silent, avoiding eye contact with you.

He shakes his curly head, putting space between you two—unwittingly or not, you don’t want to think about it now—and runs a palm over his face, scratching the back of his neck. His body leaning away, the stupid crewneck pulling tight across his shoulders with the stretch of Carmen’s muscles.

“You’re not,” he says, and you almost feel giddy. You bite your lip to stop smiling. Carmen looks pained and worried, and you don’t want to be smiling.

“Then what’s going on?” you ask, reaching for his wrist and stroking the protruding bones there lightly.

“Just—I just feel like I’m going to fuck everything up.”

Slowly, you sway back closer to him, putting all your own nervousness behind. You lay one of your palms against his chest, hoping it could comfort him, the other one back on his waist.

“You know you are hot—” you say quietly, not quite looking him in the eye, “—attractive.” You correct yourself quickly.

“What?” Carmen says, and you can feel him relax a tiny bit, twisting his hand so it’s holding the one that had been on his wrist.

“You work out. You must know that you look good.” You slide your palm a little lower to the abs hiding under his cotton shirt.

It sounds awfully a lot like flirting, but you don’t even know how to flirt. You are honestly so bad at it. And this is only the truth, anyway.

Carmy’s definitely wearing a blush that’s matching yours. It’s spreading down his neck and lower, where you want to put your mouth.

“I just run. Sometimes. After work,” Carmen stammers a little incoherently, probably feeling like you are expecting an answer, or an explanation. And you know he runs every day, and does push-ups and God knows what. It’s a known fact in the kitchen. That’s how he puts space between “work” and “life.” A divider. Even just so small. You understand it. The need to know where your job ends and you start. You can also imagine that it’s something very difficult to distinguish for Carmen.

“I hate running,” you note, your honest mind is too quick to think twice. “But still—I would really like to kiss you. Properly.”

A car wheezes around you, way past the speed limit, and Carmen stares after it. He takes a visible, deep breath, looking into the street on the right, where the street lamps turn into small yellow, glowing balls. It bares the side of his neck to you, thick and vulnerable, and you can’t not look. A shiver runs through you from the evening chill, or maybe something else, too.

“Can we—would you maybe like to come over to my place?” you ask, probably the bravest you’ve ever been.

Carmen clearly thinks about the situation for a couple of seconds before he says: “Ok. Let’s go.”

You blink once, say nothing, and head toward the L with him by your side.

—

On the staircase, Carmen takes your hand into his, long fingers sliding along the top of your hand. While you're unlocking the door, you wonder if Mikaela left potato peels and apricot stones and orange rinds on the kitchen counter in her so-called open compost. 

“Come in,” you say over your shoulder. The old, brass hanger is by the main door and you hang your jacket there, then take Carmen's to put away there too. “Would you like something to drink?” you ask politely, stalling on purpose. “We have - “ in all honesty, you are almost scared to open the fridge but Carmen is still standing where you left him, by the door. “We have tonic - “ without his friend gin that disappeared on Saturday - “ - or tap water.” 

Carmen's wearing his gray crewneck and in combination with his mussed hair, he looks incredibly soft. “'m fine,” he says, looking at you with his big eyes, looking nervous but somewhat calm. Like he doesn't want to run away, which instantly comes to you as a huge relief. 

You go to switch on the two small lamps placed around the room that you call the living room, which is obviously part kitchen and dining room too. The light makes everything even softer, a gentle sort of atmosphere. Suddenly it's easy to find each other in the middle of the room, right where the sofa with patchwork cushions are. WIthout a moment of hesitation, you kinda meet in the middle, and finally, you get to taste Carmen Berzatto. 

It takes a few slow, lingering kisses to get bolder, and to your surprise, it's Carmen who gently slips his tongue into your mouth first, and you briefly wonder if he can taste the cinnamon from your gum now. Slowly reaching up to put your hand on the nape of Carmy's neck, you feel the delicate golden chain lying against his vertebra. How long will it take to see him wearing only that?

You push him softly in the general direction of the sofa. It's old and too soft, but you love the faded gray upholstery and how homey the simple piece of furniture is. Soon Carmen´s sitting on it with you on his lap. You’re wearing the dark blue cotton dress and your boots that are digging in the sofa by Carmen's thighs. 

Carmen´s not shy, kissing you fully, tilting your head to his liking, stroking your bare arms up and down. You’re breathless on top of him, fingers running through the dark blond curls, giving back as much as receiving. The two of you kiss for long minutes, and you love it. You love how he tastes and how he's touching you, but it's clear that he's holding back. Or maybe it’s just you who is completely overwhelmed with want and need. 

“Are you - are you a virgin?” you dare to ask into his ear, kissing his neck, hiding your face in the crook of his shoulder. 

“What? No,” Carmen says, letting out a breathless laugh. 

“It's fine if you are.”

“No,” he repeats.

“Ok.”

You lean back and take his hand to intertwine your fingers together. You can feel how warm your face is, the rushing of your heart. 

“I just - just haven’t done anything. In a while,” Carmen says while looking at you, and he´s blushing, the apples of his cheeks darker than seconds ago. 

“Me neither,” you reply in the same hushed voice caused by the dark room around you.

“You can touch me,” you invite him, bringing your joint hands to the apex of your thighs where the hem of your dress has rucked up. There´s nothing to be seen, the dress still covering your underwear, and you remember incidentally, that you are wearing a very plain pair of white knickers. Before he has a chance to react to your bold move, you duck down to kiss him, and everything drowns out the buzz of paralyzing excitement. 

First you feel the soft touch of the back of his knuckles to press against your throbbing groin, too light to do anything than tease you. Carmen doesn't stop kissing you but it's slower, less measured, while he concentrates on the movement of his hand between your legs. He presses a bit harder, starts rubbing you in circles.

You shudder out a breath, tensing, fingers digging into his shoulders. “‘s nice,” you mutter into his mouth, face hot, too worried that if you don't encourage him, he might stop.

Carmen shortly hums in response and doesn’t stop. He presses open mouthed kisses against the side of your neck and down to the low neckline of your dress. You bite down on your lower lip, overwhelmed. It’s still hard to believe that you have Carmen here on your sofa, between your legs, his unruly curls between your fingers. Only now do you start to realize that you feel so much for him. That this is not just messing around. That you could actually fall in love with him. That you have been falling for him.

With a touch to his sharp jaw, you bring his face back to yours to kiss him deeply again, taking his free hand in yours to guide him, this time up to your breast. You squeeze the heavy weight of it and moan against the side of Carmy’s neck.

“I like it when it hurts a bit,” you whisper bashfully, too aware of how your hair sticks to your sweaty nape, the baby hairs by your ears probably curling with the humidity coming off your own burning skin. 

Carmen nods and squeezes, a bit harder than you showed him, and you let out a surprised gasp that turns into a moan, head tilting back in pleasure. His thumb finds your nipple through two layers of clothing and he rubs against it, then pinches. Your eyes fly to his, wide and searching. Surprised by his obvious willingness to please you, you watch Carm’s actions almost breathlessly - how his eyebrows knot in concentration upon every measured touch, the way the tendons in his hand strain when he sneaks his fingers behind the elastic of your underwear. But you need to see more.

“Take this off,” you rasp out, grasping the material of Carmen’s jumper and tugging. “Off,” you mutter again, trying to help Carm out while he gets the garment over his head and off, chuckling breathlessly. You catch his smile and have to grin back, shyly but surely, and you kiss again, Carmen going back where he had stopped. 

When you can open your eyes again, you enjoy the sight of Carmen’s muscles straining as he fingers you, looking down at where his fingers are disappearing into you, the elastic waistband digging into his wrist. He’s as concentrated and serious as he gets in the kitchen, plus turned on, if you can judge by the way he worries his bottom lip and the flush that’s spreading down his face to his long neck. Maybe he does get turned on when he’s in the kitchen, you muse, you just never noticed.

The never-ending string of your thoughts, even in this situation, unfortunately, is interrupted by Carm’s palm moving from your bare thigh up to your ass, his fingertips digging into the meat. His other hand speeds up, causing you to mutter, “Fuck,” into his ear.

“Can you come like this?” Carmen asks, and you can feel his wide eyes on you, even though you’re not looking.

“Give me a sec,” you answer in a breathy, raw voice, already mostly there. Your hand travels down into your underwear to touch your aching, swollen clit, while Carmy resumes, rubbing your walls inside. When he curls his fingers, the tips drag over your g-spot. That stirs all sorts of feelings in you, and you moan, then start grinding against his hand, his fingers. Those fingers that you watched chop and stir so many times in secret with quiet rapture, are now in you, bringing you to an orgasm.

Afraid that he could read too much from your face, you drag him into another kiss, dirtier and more desperate than the previous ones. As you near the peak, getting more and more desperate, unable to kiss Carm properly, he mouths at your collarbones, your chest, the top of your breasts. When he uses his teeth, you know he’s testing how far he can go, and you let out an encouraging sound.

Squeezing your eyes shut, your head tips back again, baring your throat to Carmen, as you come. You can feel your thighs tremble and your fingers squeeze Carmy’s shoulders momentarily. Once it washes over you, you slide off sideways from Carmen’s lap, breathing heavily and still biting your lip. You think you didn’t let out a single sound. You didn’t want to.

Carmen gives you a side glance, eyes glassy. He seems to be a bit breathless himself. You notice his eyes going to your breasts, where you can still feel wetness from his mouth, wondering if there are any actual marks left. Judging by the look on Carmen’s face, there might be.

Without thinking, you reach out and tug on the waistband of his Dickies.

“Yeah?” he says, looking at you.

“Yeah,” you nod.

With clumsy fingers, you open the button on Carmy’s pants together. You can’t help yourself — you push up the material of his t-shirt, revealing extra skin.

Your eyes widen as you scan his toned torso. “Running, huh?” you mutter teasingly, stroking your hand down his warm abdomen.

“Huh?” Carmen’s caught off guard, eyes following your hand. “Oh I — I do push-ups — erm — press-ups — sometimes. When I can't sleep.”

God, why is he sheepish? “And how much do you actually sleep?”

“Couple of hours,” he says, but the second word ends up cut off by a gasp as you touch Carmen’s dick, tugging it out from his underwear. He hisses, hips lifting up with the sensation, and you can see his tummy muscles contracting. You start stroking him slowly, as much as the angle allows you, trying out a firmer grip and then loosening up.

Not wanting to make Carmen uncomfortable with shameless staring, you press your face into the outer side of his arm, watching him from under his shoulder wordlessly. Based purely on his facial expressions, you adjust your fingers on his dick, and the rhythm. As expected, Carmy is utterly quiet, his strong jaw clenching. Only here and there, he lets out a harsh breath that you count as a victory. The t-shirt you have your nose buried in smells of generic laundry detergent, cigarettes, and caramelized onion. It also smells like Carmen — like a guy and antiperspirant.

It’s not long before Carmy squirms — “I’m not gonna last long,” he says, fists balling, and it’s so obvious he’s been holding himself back from fucking up into your hand that you feel almost sorry for him. On the other hand, this small thing between you is so fragile, and you are so anxious that you are going to fuck up, so you just bite your tongue and don’t comment on it.

“It’s fine,” you say low, lips moving against the t-shirt again, pretending you have not been watching his every expression, reading deep into every blink of his eyes, every time he wets his lips, jerks his pelvis up a bare inch with pleasure. The tip of his dick is as cherry pink as his lips are, you notice desperately, and you know this image is going to haunt you forever.

“It’s fine,” you repeat sweetly, speeding up your movements, and then Carmen is coming, thick ropes of it landing on your fingers and your wrist and his t-shirt that’s fallen back down over his stomach. He shakes with the force of his orgasm, and you watch his body in awe as it goes through it, still touching him, feeling the hot, slippery skin of his dick in your hand.

The rush of emotions is so strong that you almost panic. Then you look left and up at Carmen—he’s trying to catch his breath, his big eyes are glassy, and his lips are shiny with his own spit, and in that very moment, you believe that he can see right into the core of your own being.

You want to cradle his jaw and kiss him. Instead, you look away faster than he can. Miraculously, a box of Kleenex sits on the coffee table by the sofa, and you reach over to hand it to Carmen.

Next to you, you hear, more than see, Carmen wipe down the mess, pulling his t-shirt back down.

There are two options—either you get up quickly and this is all over for now, or you acknowledge what just happened and try to be all mature about it. To your own surprise, you go with the latter, turning to Carmen, reaching out to touch his forearm lightly.

He looks over at you and smiles, small and gentle.Then he leans in and kisses you on the lips before standing up.

“Can I smoke in here?” he asks, already searching his pockets.

“Yeah. From the kitchen window,” you point in the general direction of the window. There’s a chopped tomato can serving as an ashtray on the outside windowsill. Without a second look, you disappear into the bathroom to fix your damp underwear.

The night stretches, and Carmy never leaves. After his smoke break, you expect things to be awkward. But they aren’t. You split the two-day-old dinner leftovers—vegan spaghetti bolognese from Mikaela—and you eat it on the same sofa where you had been touching and kissing twenty minutes ago, while watching Modern Family, just to have something to fill in the silence that could become uncomfortable.

Carmen changes into your old baggy t-shirt. No denying that you would prefer him without it, but he asks for it himself. When he comes out of the bathroom and lies next to you, he smells of mint, and you hope he didn’t use your toothbrush without asking—because, “bleh”—and he reads your mind, because he says, “I brushed with toothpaste on my finger,” and brings the blanket all the way up to his chin.

You don’t know how, but you both fall asleep.

The stirring in the bed next to you is what wakes you up. Used to sleeping in your double bed by yourself, it takes your hazy brain a moment to remember that it’s not the case tonight. The light from the streetlamp filtering through the window blinds falls on the man next to you. You watch him wriggle under the sheet, sleepy and unguarded. He looks like an innocent boy—with his puffy eyes and messy hair falling over his forehead. 

Meanwhile, Carmen’s eyes open and find yours. You’re unsure of what he sees on your face, but he outstretches his arm to touch your bare shoulder, and shuffles closer. Your stomach twists at the nearness.

“You okay?” you whisper groggily. “Aren’t you cold?”

He only shakes his head.

“Okay,” you nod into the pillow, daring to run the pads of your fingers along his forearm, stroking. Carmen’s skin here is baby soft, with no hairs on the inner side. You enjoy his quiet hum as you use your nails lightly. He closes his eyes momentarily, and you would say he shivers, but you can’t be sure.

You’re surrounded by the quiet of the night; even the neighbors above must be asleep because you can’t hear their annoying heavy steps. Tomorrow, you won’t be sure if you dreamt this moment.

“Sleep,” you whisper again, something primal overtaking you as you reach further into Carmy’s hair, smoothing down the tangled curls and continuing over the shell of his ear. Carmen watches you for a little longer until he relaxes completely, his blinks getting longer. You’re so caught up in the rare moment of stillness that you don’t realize at first that he’s falling asleep, until his heavy breathing indicates that he’s gone.

[sugarbombs-n-stuff]

Companion Birthday Headcanons

Ada: June 7th, She sees her birthday as when Jackson found her, she celebrates quickly but she finds it fun nonetheless.

Cait: February 20th, She never celebrated before sole but now that she does she loves it. Definitely a chocolate kinda girl.

Curie: April 12th She was powered on for the first time on this date! All Mister Handys/Miss Nannies sing themselves a little happy birthday jingle like the mars rover. Now that she's a synth her favorite cake flavor is strawberry. She loves celebrating with everyone, think of like a 5 year olds peak birthday and that's what Curie wants. She loves being gifted anything from prewar.

Codsworth: September 30th. He was purchased before shaun was born and was powered up a bit after he popped out. He loves wearing a party hat and like Curie, sings himself a birthday jingle. He loves the festivities of birthdays.

Danse: March 15th. In the brotherhood it was a quick happy birthday and then back to his duties. He feels indifferent about his birthday until Blind Betrayal, for a few months after he refuses to even think about anything that indicates he's human but when does accept that he's a synth he appreciates his birthday. His favorite flavor of cake is German Chocolate.

Deacon: December 25th. Though no one would ever find out except for Sole, he is a Christmas baby. Anytime someone asks what his birthday is it changes every time. He will celebrate his birthday with friends once he starts trying to find the real him but for years after Barbara's death he wouldn't even acknowledge it. He enjoys a good party but also likes something simple, he doesn't expect much cause it falls on a holiday though. His favorite cake flavor jokingly is funfetti, his actual favorite is just simple yellow cake with chocolate frosting. He will heavily appreciate any gag gift or fiber art craft thing that comes his way.

Dogmeat: January 1st. No one really knows so they celebrate on New Years Day. He gets plenty of brahmin ears as gifts though.

Piper: August 18th. She celebrated plenty when her parents were still alive and Nat tries to make her a present or two and she is very grateful. She enjoys spending her b-day with Blue and everyone as well. She doesn't care for cake, so she gets cookie cake.

Preston: November 3rd. He celebrated with is family and the early minuteman but after the quincy massacre he doesn't have the time or energy. If he had a choice, he would want to spend his birthday on the river outside sanctuary with a BBQ. His favorite flavor is lemon!

Nick: Human Nick's birthday was May 23rd, Synth Nick wanted some separation from him so he celebrates his birthday on February 14th, Valentines Day. He doesn't need any gifts or a big party, he's perfectly fine with a birthday card and since he doesn't really eat anything, a nice cup of coffee.

MacCready: June 2nd. Duncan's birthday is the day after so they normally celebrate together. He likes parties and gag gifts. His favorite cake flavor is actually orange with chocolate frosting. The only way he can get said flavor however is pouring Nuka Orange and using that instead of water when baking, duncan thinks its really nasty though.

Hancock: August 28th. When they were kids his brother would always make sure his birthday was good but after he left Diamond City and started celebrating with chems and shitty beer. When the sole survivor and their merry band of misfits rolls up he starts celebrating with a big meal among friends where he tries to cut back on chems. He's happy to get any gift and his favorite cake flavor is tarberry.

x6-88: October 1st. He never celebrated his birthday until sole showed up. He appreciates getting candy, weapon mods, and pre-war toy kits where you can build your own car. He doesn't mind sitting on the beach as a bonfire is being built. He enjoys swimming and eating whatever was packed and he finds that he actually enjoys his birthday. His favorite cake flavor is coconut with red frosting.

Strong: Pre-War, Strong's birthday was November 27th. He doesn't remember now and doesn't care.

Gage: January 13th. He celebrates by putting on a record and target practice, he'd prefer a rager with plenty of chems and loud music, Afterwords, go home, eat cake, and listen to some pre-war audio drama. His favorite cake flavor is vanilla with mutfruit frosting.

Longfellow: May 16th. He doesn't celebrate cause he doesn't really care. He drinks a beer at the bar then goes fishing with Diamond City Radio playing. His favorite cake flavor is coffee cake with tarberry jam on top.

[lovelynim]

Another round

Honkai: Star Rail - Caelus x Luka

A/N: Happy birthday, Elian!!! ( @eliankrios ) I know what I said about to making you a gift, but I just couldn't stop myself. I wanted to come up with something different for you as I know you're getting plenty of genshin boys... so, I hope you like this, ehe ~

Summary: Caelus vs. Luka - Round 1 - Fight!!

Word count: 1207 words

“Please, please, please, please, pleaaase!!”

Caelus took a step back, reaching the wall behind him and getting himself cornered once for all. He looked at Luka, meeting his puppy-like eyes, filled with excitement and expectations. It would be much, much easier if Luka was simply requesting a regular date - or even for some borrowed money like a certain tall, blue-haired guy.

Luka’s plans, however, didn’t go in that direction. He wanted something else.

“I-I don’t know, I don’t really want to fight you…” Caelus muttered, looking away as it was too hard to say no to those eyes staring deep into his soul.

As expected, as soon as those words reached the redheaded, Luka’s excited, beaming smile turned into a gloomy frown. The fiery posture was soon replaced by slumped shoulders and a tilted head. 

Damn it.

“W-why not?” Luka pouted and Caelus could swear he was about to cry at that moment. 

“I, ahm, I don’t want you to get hurt and-”

“You… think I’m not strong enough? You don’t want to fight me because I’m too weak, Caelus?”

Caelus’s jaw dropped, that was totally not what he meant! “N-no! I mean, w-we will end up hurt and I don’t want that to happen!”

“B-but then we can ask Nat to patch us up!” Luka insisted, holding Caelus’s hands as he took a step forward, standing barely inches away from him. “Just one fight! I won’t bother you ever again!”

Caelus sighed, getting in a fight just to ask for medical treatment later? Not only Natasha, but maybe the whole Astral Express crew would scold him if he did that. Besides… “d-don’t you have plenty of fights? Can’t we… do something else?”

“But you’re the strongest! Belobog’s hero! The savior from outer space!” Luka whined, frowning slightly as he noticed Caelus was probably trying to shift the topic and, consequently, refuse his request. “No one would fight like you! …well, maybe Seele, but- t-that’s not important!”

“Sigh, do you want to punch me that badly?” Caelus joked, already feeling hopeless about changing the other’s mind. Maybe he should’ve listened to Himeko and thought twice before flirting with people he recently met…

Much to his surprise, Luka nodded to that question, grinning with sheer, unstoppable hype. “And then you punch me back! Like in a fight, hehe.”

This wasn’t going to do it, Caelus thought. There was no way Luka would let him go without a proper fight, but fighting him sounded so painful, for both of them. Besides, he didn’t really get the idea of fighting someone you liked. 

That was when an idea popped up in Caelus head. There was, indeed, a way to fight Luka without harming him.

Without much room to think twice before putting his plan into practice, Caelus pulled his hands out of Luka’s grip and switched places with him, pinning Luka against the wall. “Fine,” Caelus sighed, a serious, cold expression taking place in his face, “let’s fight, then.”

“R-really?” Luka smiled in a way that made Caelus almost go back on his word - almost being the key word here. “Then, I will go ask for them to put our names next in the ring’s list and-”

“No need to,” Caelus interrupted, closing his fingers around Luka’s regular wrist and pulling it, pinning it on the wall above his head.

“C-Caelus? What do you-”

“I’m fighting you right here and now.”

Luka blushed, half because of how close Caelus was to him, half because of how cool he sounded saying that. So manly, so fierce, so powerful. Aeons, his heart was racing as fast as the gears of his prosthetic arm. “W-wohoah,” Luka gasped, trying to free his pinned hand, “t-then, are we fighting now?”

“Yes,” Caelus smirked, “we are.”

Before Luka could make some sense of Caelus’s nonsense, the redheaded squealed seconds after Caelus moved his free hand.

While fighting people, Luka was used to feeling pain. Punches, kicking, headbutts, cuts, all types of wounds. Of course, that also meant he got used to landing a hit or two - usually that’s all it took him to knock his opponent out - but this was new.

Caelus’s fingers quickly scribbled over his stretched out side, pinching over his waist and prodding at his lower ribs. Each and every touch sent an electric, funny feeling through his nerves, straight to his brain, that made him want to… laugh.

“H-hehey! AhaHAh, w-what ahare- ahAHah, C-Caelus! That tihihickles!” Luka cried out, his metallic hand tugging at Caelus’s clothes, trying to push him away.

Caelus let out a small sigh of relief - Luka was ticklish. He didn’t have enough time to come up with a back up plan in case he wasn’t, but it seemed that luck was on his side tonight. “Whaaat? Are you giving up already? I just started!” Caelus smirked, clawing at Luka’s side.

“I t-thought we wehehere going to f-fihihight!” So why are you tickling me, Luka whined inside his head, biting his lower lip and stiffening his muscles in a vain hope to make Caelus’s fingers feel less tickly.

The confused look on the redhead’s face was priceless. He was trying so bad to not laugh and Caelus was definitely in for that challenge. “We are fighting, but I guess you’re too ticklish to fight back,” he teased, wiggling his fingers against Luka’s side, unable to move his hand further up thanks to the other’s free limb.

It was, indeed, a tough spot for Luka. If he let go of Caelus’s hand, he knew where he was going to get tickled - and if that happened, he was going to lose - but if he didn’t try to fight back, it was a matter of time for his body to give in.

“T-thahat’s- ahaha, n-not fahair!” Luka pressed his eyes shut while a wide grin spread over his lips. He scrunched up his shoulders, looking away as he tried to think up a solution and ignore the ticklish feeling at the same time. “I wahahasn’t reahahady!”

“Excuses, excuses, that's what I'm hearing. You didn’t sound like a sore loser when we met,” Caelus hummed. Seeing his plan working so amazingly rubbed his pride just right, but he knew he couldn’t just stop if he wanted a flawless victory. “Time to finish you, buddy ~”

“C-Cahaelus, wahAHA- AHAhah, n-nOHO!!”

Managing to break free from Luka’s metallic grip, Caelus quickly shot his hand up, tickling that awfully ticklish spot under the redhead’s arm. His reward was no other than Luka’s bright, yet panicked laughter.

“Oho, I think I got you now,” Caelus giggled along, noticing how Luka pressed his back into the wall behind it to now fall, nearly hanging in Caelus’ grip. “Is it bad? Does it tickle a lot? Heheh ~”

“I-it dohOHOhes!! AHAHA!”

“Soo…” Caelus grinned, “do you surrender, champion? Do you admit defeat?”

Those words ringed inside Luka’s head, making butterflies flutter in his stomach. Part of him wanted him to say ‘yes’, make the tickling stop and allow him to catch a break. The other - the stubborn, competitive one… “N-nehEHEHever! AhahAHAH, I c-caHAHahan still fihIHIHight!”

“Tsk,” Caelus clicked his lips, rolling his eyes at the predictable answer, “suit yourself, then, let’s go for another round and see what you really got ~”