#this was such a cozy and heartwarming read!

[sometimesanalice]

OH ELLE!!! OH ELLLLLLLLE!!! 💖

This was so good! I have been obsessed with this since you first teased it and finally getting to read it was just as WONDERFUL as I knew it would be!! I was fully swooooooning! I loved the then and now of it and getting to see their friendship along the way! This was so perfectly and lovingly crafted and so damn heartwarming!!

more for youuuuuuuuuu!

“If I fake a heart attack, we can get out of this meeting, right?”-- my best boy is such a divaaaaaa! and I love him even more for it! I mean it's crime they have to take an airport meeting as it is?! But all dressed?! this man was tugging at his tie, lol. so huffy! so over it! so precious!

She looks at him, half admonishment and half appreciation, always a little bit amazed when he had her back, no matter how many times he had done it.-- I love that bradley is always on her team and has her back! I'm all soft about it! that she has someone she can always count on (even if it surprises her, when it shouldn'ttttt! sherrie babe y'all are in loooveeeeeeeeee) when their industry is such a groddy boys club.

Come on, it’s a long flight; you can sleep on the plane. Just be thankful you’re not wearing an underwire bra and heels.”//“I don’t know how you do that.” He mutters, shooing her away when she tries to pick up her carry-on, throwing it over his shoulder alongside his own.-- 1) she's so fucking real for that, 2) bradley bradshaw feminist icon, and 3) BIG BEEFY MAN DOING ACTS OF SERVICE IS THE MOMENT HOTTTTT

He ushers Sherrie on first, politely nodding to the flight crew before following her down the aisle, ducking down to whisper. “I do not drool.”//“You absolutely do drool. You also snore.”-- he's such a gentlemannnnnnn oh i want oneeeeeee! But also i love them continuing this little fight like in their own little bubble. we love aa girliepop that ROASTS that man! (affectionately of course, lol)

Even if he wishes it was their apartment they were going to.-- sweetest boyyyyy 🥺

He’s watched her change over the last decade, seen her grow as a person. He’s risen through the ranks with her professionally, the two of them matching each other step for step with each promotion and raise. He’s publicly assured her that her hair still looks good as it’s deepened color with age, now less red and more auburn. He’s privately appreciated the way her body has changed, softer and curvier than when they were kids. Her wide hips are a frequent star in his daydreams.-- THE WAY I WAS SWOOOOONING OVER THIS YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!!! IT IS SO DAMN SWEET!! But also that they have all that history and he's seen it firsthand and it only makes him love her more!! Like the progression of rooting her coming into her own as a person, but then followed by the simple longing and appreciation of her body too (LIKE SO FUCKING HOT PHEEWWWWWW)

“Thank you for remembering the mustard.”//“Bradley, when have I ever forgotten the mustard? Here, take some napkins.”--POLITE SWEET BOY!! but i love the casual intimacy of this! like not only that she knows he's inevitably going to make a mess, but also that they have that history where she knows exactly what he likes but also how he is. It just makes me all warm and cozy!

“You didn’t come.”//“First man to ever care about that.” She mutters, snorting at her joke.-- PLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

“But you’re glad I’m here, right?”-- YOU PUT THOSE BIG COW EYES AWAY RIGHT NOW BRADSHAW! (but also that little hint of insecurity had me like 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

“I love Mav; he’s my dad in all the ways it matters. It just sucks that my actual dad won’t be here for graduation. Like, I know he’s missed so much of my life already, but something about him missing college graduation is worse than everything else. It’s just so unfair; I barely remember him, but I just- I just miss him so much, Sherrie.”-- oof ok this hit too real for me. (I hated graduation in HS and college because everyone got to send out their fun announcements to their families and have parties, and I came from a single parent household with no siblings and no extended family, so like I was always reminded what I didn't have during those times when normally I couldn't care less, but it was always a bit of a gut punch during those big event moments) I wanted to hug this sweet bean! that missing of what you don't have and have never known, but still longing for it, those hurts that just always stay with you!

“We were supposed to be halfway home by now, and I’m so uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Bradley, I’m just so tired.” She whimpers, hiding against his bicep.-- poor sweet girlllllll! oh i feel for her!! travel is already so rough when you only want to go home and then every delay makes it that much harder! And then you can't help but think about how you could be somewhere else! AN AIRPORT HOSTAGE. But also her hiding against his bicep because he's her safe place had me meltinggggggggggg

Bradley peers up from his knees, where he had started digging in his bag. “I’m grabbing one of my shirts for you. Would you prefer a t-shirt or a sweatshirt? Actually, you’re definitely gonna get cold, sweatshirt for you.”- precious sweet boy is all action! he's like my girl is uncomfy? NOT ON MY WATCH! And also again all the little ways they know each other! That he gives her choices, but ultimately KNOWS and just makes the choice for her because he knows her so well! I just love this kind of stuff so much! THEY PAY ATTENTION TO ALL THE LITTLE THINGS BECAUSE THEY CAREEEEEEEEE

This is the moment it starts, she thinks, her heart pounding in her throat as she robotically nods. It’s never the men that get these warnings. It’s always the women. Always us. Always me.-- MY HEAARTTTTTT I AM TOO TENDERRRRR!! I WANT TO HUG HER. It's too real and I hate ittttt.

“Because we’re friends?” Brown eyes look into hers, equally confused.//“We’re friends?”//“I hope so; otherwise, this is gonna get awkward when you hug me in a minute.”-- god this exchange was so fucking funny to me. Like her surprise and then his? but also he is just so cheeky that it had me gigglinggggg!

Sherrie rolls her eyes as he unlocks the door. “Bradley, breathe. You’re being very dramatic right now.”— my favvvvv 😂🥰🤭 Bradley ‘Mariah Carey’ Bradshaw

“Sher?” It takes a second, but she quietly hums in response. “We have to talk about it again.”//“No, Bradley. We talked about this two weeks ago. Nothing has changed since then.”-- THE PLOT TWIST OF IT AND THE LONGINGGGGG OF IT SENT ME THROUGH THE ROOF.

He slips out of his bed and into hers, wrapping the woman he loves in his arms. He lets her cry, knowing she’s frustrated and exhausted, only speaking up again when she’s calmed down. “I’m sorry, honey.”//“No, I’m sorry, Bradley. It’s not fair that we’ve been dancing around this for so many years, and I keep saying no. You deserve someone who isn’t afraid to be with you. Not a coward like me.”-- SCREAMING BECAUSE THEY'RE VICTIMS OF CIRCUMSTANCE AND SHITTY HR POLICIES LET MY BABIES BE HAPPY DAMMIT!! His "honey" RUINED MEEEEEE! They want to be with each other so muchhhhhh! Oh the yearning and the pining and the longingggggg!!! the acknowledging that they've been dancing around it! That she has had to say 'no' when all she wants is HIM! YOU RIPPED MY HEART OUT WITH THIS HOW DARE YOUUUUUUUUUU. HE IS WAITING FOR HER AND WILL CONTINUE TO WAIT BECAUSE SHE IS WORTH IT FOR HIM I CANNNNNNOOOOTTTTTT

“And I love you, so I don’t mind waiting until we’re in a position that you’re confident won’t jeopardize your career. So, we’ll wait to hear about the job, and once you hear that you’ve gotten it, I’m treating you to the nicest dinner in Boston.”-- a casual marriage proposal wouldn't be to much for a first date would it?? i am too delicate

“Of course! Need me to do anything else?”//Sherrie hums, staring at the ceiling as she thinks. “One more kiss?”-- IT IS SO SWEET AND THEY ARE SO SMITTENNNNNNNNN

“Okay, now you have to go. I have to finish prepping for this meeting where I get to yell at Sean.”//“That’s my girl. I’ll pick you up later. I love you.”-- FUCK SEAN EVISCERATE HIM SHERRIE MY BABE! And i love that he's rooting her on! I can just imagine his little smirk of pride! They're so cute.

Would it be cheesy to quietly propose in the airport that was a catalyst in their relationship? Maybe, but he knew Sherrie would love it. He’s just hoping the TSA didn’t call out the ring that would be hiding in his carry-on.-- NO IT'S PERFECTTTTT AND I AM ALL KINDS OF TENDER OVER ITTTTT!! I will personally sue TSA if they ruin this for my best boy who wants to put a ring on his best girl! that proposal won't be thwarted, not on my watch!!

#deltasupremacy-- correct, facts on facts!

your honor, i loved it! a round of applause to you for this!

change your ticket home

a top gun maverick AU

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Sherrie McHone (fem!OC)

summary: After a successful business trip on the West Coast, two Wells Corporation engineers have problems getting back home. Thank god for Bradley Bradshaw, a man who is determined to make their hours waiting in the terminal as enjoyable as possible. And if he and his pretty travel companion (and colleague) get closer along the way? Well that’s just a bonus.

warnings: difficulties of being a woman in a male-dominated field, minor misogyny from coworkers, yearning, pining, Bradley being an absolute sweetheart, it's vaguely alluded to but Sherrie is named after the Steve Perry song, American Airlines bashing bc this fic is based on a real and horrible experience I had a few years ago. and yes, the title is from the one direction song.

word count: 9.8k | masterlist

note: happy saturday! this has been in the works for almost a year and I'm so thrilled to finally be sharing it! this is dedicated to @gretagerwigsmuse, who gave so many wonderful ideas and has continually been a cheerleader for this fic. happy birthday!

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 06:36 AM PST | San Diego, CA

“If I fake a heart attack, we can get out of this meeting, right?”

She looks over at Bradley sprawled in the uncomfortable café chair in his navy suit, his arm slung over the back of her chair. He’s down to just his crisp, white button-up, jacket, and tie abandoned within the first ten minutes of the call.

“Suck it up, we’re almost done.” She rolls her eyes. “And Martin knows you’re a supremely healthy thirty-two-year-old, so no, I don’t think that will work.”

“Sherrie…” His whine is cut off by her hand covering his mouth as she unmutes her microphone and mentally praises his decision to sit so close to her. Not having to pull out both laptops was just an additional perk on top of her ability to silence him.

“That’s correct, Sean. We got them to agree to a small batch trail run for the connectors. We’ll be working together on running them through environmental testing before committing to a full contract.”

“And why are they agreeing to that? Because frankly, it makes no sense to me why they would want to do that.”

Bradley straightens up, his eyes narrowing at the Teams box showing the older man’s initials. “Well, Sean, as Sherrie explained before. Harris hasn’t produced connectors like this before, and they’re interested in the test results, specifically the shock data. So they agreed to take on half the burden so they can use the information for their own use. If this works how we think it will, this will be a huge boost for their business, even if the patent is shared.”

She looks at him, half admonishment and half appreciation, always a little bit amazed when he had her back, no matter how many times he had done it. “The contracts team is drawing up the final agreements and negotiating with their team next week, so best case scenario is we have reports with usable data by the end of the summer. Worst case, it’ll drift into the middle of Q1.”

“That’s great work you guys did out there, thank you. Alright, I think that covers everything we had to talk about today. McHone, Bradshaw - have a safe flight back, and everyone have a good weekend!” Martin ends the call before anyone can add anything.

Bradley laughs. “God, he’s just as sick of Sean as I am. I can’t wait until he retires.”

“He’s not that bad; you’re just grumpy because you had to dress up for the staff meeting, and then Martin said cameras off today.”

“I am upset about that! I will be logging yet another suggestion that we should have casual Fridays and casual travel policy. But I’m more upset because he talks down to you all the time! Like you haven’t been carrying this department on your back since we started ten years ago!”

“Carrying is an exaggeration, Bradley.” She looks up from where she’s putting her laptop away. “I think you have time to change into something comfy before we board.”

“American Airlines Flight 2307 from San Diego to Charlotte, Boarding Group A can now board.”

“Or not.” She giggles as he groans, reaching over to pull her other air pod out of his ear. “Come on, it’s a long flight; you can sleep on the plane. Just be thankful you’re not wearing an underwire bra and heels.”

“I don’t know how you do that.” He mutters, shooing her away when she tries to pick up her carry-on, throwing it over his shoulder alongside his own.

“I don’t either. I’m going to get a massage when we get back to Boston.”

“Ohhh, a massage sounds nice.” He subtly sticks his elbow out for her grab, which she gratefully does, letting his tall frame guide her to their gate. “You know you didn’t have to wear heels, right?”

“You should shut up while I’m still thankful you yelled at Sean for me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sherrie leans her head on his arm as they wait in the priority boarding line, one of the perks of traveling on the company’s dime. Normally, she would worry about being more professional while carrying her work bag that had the Wells Corporation logo embroidered on it, but she can’t bring herself to care. Yesterday’s meetings ran late, and the following client dinner had kept them out until almost midnight. After packing, going to bed late, and having to get up at 3:30AM to get to the airport, she was exhausted.

She takes her bag before they scan their tickets, not fighting when he grabs it again on their walk down the jet bridge.

“Where are you sitting again?”

“I’m in 16C.” She snorts at Bradley’s pout. “What? You knew we weren’t going to be sitting together.”

“But I’m going to be bored all the way back in 21D by myself.”

“Bud, you’re going to fall asleep in the first 30 minutes like you always do, and then I would be stuck for the next four hours with you leaning and drooling on me.”

Bradley whips his head around, “That is a baseless accusation. I do not drool!”

“You 100% definitely do drool, I’ve seen it.” Her smirk widens when his attempt to fight back is cut off by the flight attendants greeting them.

He ushers Sherrie on first, politely nodding to the flight crew before following her down the aisle, ducking down to whisper. “I do not drool.”

“You absolutely do drool. You also snore.”

She can feel eyes on them as they shuffle down the aisle, making eye contact with an older woman who raises her eyebrows in appreciation at the hunk of a man behind her.

This happens everywhere they go.

Bradley is such a gentleman, always opening doors and carrying her bags, that people never believe the two are just friends and coworkers. She’s had complete strangers fight with her when she says there’s nothing between them. Unable to accept that it’s just platonic.

As much as she wishes it could be more.

After years of learning all the little details of each other, she knows they would be good together. Their decade-long friendship allowing her to thoroughly analyze how well their personalities would mesh. They share the same beliefs and have the same interests; they even have overlapping friend groups. They’re made for each other.

On paper.

In reality, it will never happen.

She won’t let it.

“Is this good here?” Bradley’s question interrupts her weekly internal spiral; his big brown eyes blink at her over his shoulder as he puts her bag into the overhead compartment.

“That’s fine. Can you grab my water bottle out of the side pocket?

“Here ya go, ma’am. I’ll meet you by the water foundation when we land, okay?”

She nods, smiling as he hustles back to his seat to avoid a family almost flattening him in their haste to get to their assigned seats.

Her seat neighbors haven’t arrived yet, so Sherrie sits down without bothering to buckle, tucking her work bag under the row in front of her after pulling out her plane kit. Her pencil case from college that she’s repurposed to hold her headphones, phone charger, gum, hand sanitizer, and a few other small necessities.

Her phone buzzes as she’s storing her water bottle and the little bag away in the pocket of the seat in front of her.

Bradley is woken up by his seat neighbor hitting his arm as he reaches to grab a drink, nodding at the guy’s apologetic face before trying to get comfortable again. Alan talked way too much at dinner last night, and it was a struggle to stay awake during the project manager’s third round of gushing over how brilliant and profitable Sherrie’s proposal would be for both companies.

“Sir? This is for you, do you want it?” The muffled question is accompanied by someone shaking his shoulder. He peels open his eyes to see the flight attendant holding out two packets of Biscoff cookies.

His face must be confused enough for the short woman to take pity on him. “Your friend up there said these are your favorite and asked me to give hers to you.”

His heart warms up, taking the treats and saying thank you. He enjoys the cookies, washing them down with the ginger ale he also got, thinking about how well Sherrie knows him. He forces himself to wait for them to finish snack service before he gets up to use the restroom.

“Thank you.” Bradley revels in the way Sherrie jumps when he pops her headphone out, purposefully brushing his lips against her ear. “Hmmm, you were right, your seatmate is cute.”

She glares up at him, a smile threatening to break through. “Isn’t he? He fell asleep five minutes after take off, just like you.”

“Yet, another baseless accusation!”

“I heard you snoring.”

“You shouldn’t lie in front of small children.”

“His mom said he’s seven months old; I don’t think we have to be concerned about teaching him to lie while he’s still in a car seat.”

“Probably shouldn’t chance it, though. Say I don’t snore.”

“You just said I shouldn’t lie. Should probably go to the bathroom before you start holding up traffic.” She puts her headphone back in, wiggling her fingers at him before going back to reading on her phone.

It gives him the strangest sense of déjà vu.

Tuesday, March 25, 2005 | 10:43 AM EST | Charlottesville, VA

“…and he said you had already-” Bradley cuts himself off, realizing she can’t hear him. He chuckles; he should have known better than to just walk up and start talking.

He doesn’t know Sherrie McHone very well. They had taken all the freshman intro to engineering requirements together, and this year their classes had split into their chosen disciplines. His mechanical, hers electrical. But he knows her well enough to know that she can pretty much only be found without her headphones during class.

He remembers the first time they spoke last semester after he accidentally walked right into her. He had told Danny it’s because she’s so much shorter than him, but it’s really because he wasn't paying attention.

Sherrie had only taken one earpiece out to make sure he was okay before continuing onto her class, seamlessly weaving between upperclassmen as she shoved her headphone back in.

“Sherrie?” No response.

He lets out a tiny huff and checks his watch. Normally, he wouldn’t care that she’s clueless to his existence even as he’s right beside her, but he’s got a class soon, and he’s still two buildings away. So he does the only thing he can.

He pops her headphones out and steps back for fear of getting smacked.

Her head whips up, narrowing in on him freakishly fast. “What the fuck, Bradshaw?”

He’s surprised to learn that she knows his name.

“Sorry, Sherrie! I’ve been trying to talk to you for like five minutes, and you somehow haven’t noticed, but I’ve got class in 15 minutes, so I needed to get your attention.”

“Oh…” Her green eyes widen in surprise, the apples of her cheeks turning a light pink. “Sorry about that. What did you need? Wait. How did you find me?”

A fair question.

“Khondker told me where you sit.” He partially fibs.

All semester he had been watching her disappear after EE221, the one class they shared. It had taken him a while, but he was pretty sure he had found her secret study nook in the electrical engineering wing of the building. Their TA had only confirmed Bradley’s theory of where he could find his fellow sophomore.

“I don’t understand this last section we’ve been learning, and Khondker said you had already finished the homework and could help me. So could you?”

“He didn’t help you?” Sherrie raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

“He tried.” Bradley scratches the back of his head, remembering how frustrated the patient man had been after his third attempt at explaining. “I just really don’t understand circuit loops. And he thought having a classmate explain it to me would make it stick. That or he was just so sick of me, he’s pawning me off.”

He watches her think, her pencil rapidly tapping against her notebook, making him nervous.

“I don’t want to be rude, but if you don’t understand current loops, I’m not sure how much help I can be. I understand the material, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

Her bluntness makes him smile. “I’m not expecting miracles, just help with the homework. If you have time.”

“Okay, just as long as you don’t get your hopes up too much.” She grabs a bright pink notebook and opens it up. “So, I’m usually free-”

“I don't want to interrupt, but I do have to get to class, so could we figure out a time later today?”

“Sure, I’ll be here until my class at four. Feel free to sit down if I’m not here; it just means I’m grabbing food.” He nods, backing away. “Wait! Bradley! Go down this hall and out the side door. You’ll be like halfway there already.”

“Awesome, thanks!” He starts to jog down the hallway, looking back to see her putting her headphones back in. Waving back when she smiles and wiggles her fingers at him before going back to her homework.

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 3:16 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“Our flight got delayed, and I’m hungry.”

Sherrie jumps, not expecting Bradley to get that close to her face three seconds after she exited the bathroom.

“Okay, I could eat. Where do you wan-”

“Auntie Anne’s.”

He’s walking away before she can even process what he said. She allows herself one second to appreciate the way he looks, walking through the concourse - navy slacks fitting his legs perfectly and all their bags thrown over his broad shoulders - before she’s clicking along after him.

“Bradshaw!” He freezes and turns, almost taking a lanky teenager out with her backpack. “Oh my god, Bradley! Be careful! You almost took that kid’s head off.”

His smile is sheepish as she shuffles them over to the wall. “I did not do that on purpose.”

She giggles and takes her backpack from his shoulder. “Yeah, I kinda figured. But you should have seen his face. His life flashed before his eyes. All sixteen years.”

“I can carry that Sherrie.”

“That’s okay, I got it. No! Bradley!”

He ignores her, smiling at her frustrated little stomp when he hands over her tan, cross-body purse out of her work bag. “You just carry that and make sure I don’t take out any toddlers or old ladies.”

“How am I supposed to do that if I’m ahead of you?” She snarks as he steers them toward the food stands.

“You’re smart; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Bradley laughs when she mocks him under her breath. “I can hear you, smartass.”

“You were meant to, Bradley.”

His heart flutters at the teasing wink she sends over her shoulder. It’s been twelve years since they became friends, and he still feels like that 20-year-old kid who was nervous to talk to the pretty red-headed girl he had a crush on.

He can feel eyes on them as her heels catch people’s attention, and he finds himself glaring at men who are shamelessly staring. Her shoes aren’t loud as they click along on the tile floor, but it’s hard to ignore the beautiful woman striding along in business casual.

It happens everywhere they go.

Sherrie has always been beautiful and painfully unaware of her effect on men. It never matters where they are - at work, the rare baseball game he forces her to attend, happy hour with their friends from school - she always catches attention. It doesn’t bother him because she never reciprocates, and he’s always the one to give her a ride back to her apartment.

Even if he wishes it was their apartment they were going to.

He’s watched her change over the last decade, seen her grow as a person. He’s risen through the ranks with her professionally, the two of them matching each other step for step with each promotion and raise. He’s publicly assured her that her hair still looks good as it’s deepened color with age, now less red and more auburn. He’s privately appreciated the way her body has changed, softer and curvier than when they were kids. Her wide hips are a frequent star in his daydreams.

It's the only place where they’ll ever be in a relationship.

He knows they’d be perfect together. Old friends who know each other so well they don’t even have to talk to communicate sometimes. Whose attitudes fit together like puzzle pieces, perfectly in sync with each other. He knows it won’t happen. Can’t happen.

“Grab us a table, and I’ll get the food.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t fight her about paying, knowing this will be covered under their per diem. “Don’t forget my-”

“You’re frozen lemonade, I know!”

Bradley rolls his eyes at the hand that waves over her shoulder, settling their bags at a table and keeping an eye on Sherrie while sending an update to Mav.

His thumbs hover over the keyboard. He wants to tell his uncle the whole situation - that he’s not afraid to flirt with Sherrie.

“Everything okay?”

Bradley looks up to find her eyebrows furrowed as she sets a tray down.

“All good. Just sending my family an update that we’re delayed.”

She nods, sitting in the chair across from him. “Here’s your mini pretzel dogs, with mustard and a frozen lemonade. This is my pretzel nuggets, cheese sauce, and Diet Coke. Oh! And I got us these cinnamon sugar pretzels to share!”

“Thank you for remembering the mustard.”

“Bradley, when have I ever forgotten the mustard? Here, take some napkins.”

He shoves an entire mini pretzel dog in his mouth in lieu of answering her question, which they both know the answer to. Never. She has never forgotten his love for pretzels with mustard.

They eat in comfortable silence, the way only two friends can, occasionally dunking into each other's sauces as they scroll through their phones.

“Hey, how is your da- oh Bradley! You got mustard on your shirt!” His head snaps down to his shirt, groaning when he sees the yellow blob on his white button-up.

“Fuck! This is new, too!”

Sherrie dives into her bag, muttering about a stain stick, a triumphant noise escaping when she comes up successful. Scooting closer to him, she’s hit with a wave of nostalgia as she helps him clean his shirt.

Friday, April 6, 2007 | 10:12 PM EST | Charlottesville, VA

“You should’ve been gone, knowing how I made you feel!”

Sherrie’s head pops up from the lab reports she’s grading.

“And I should've been gone, after all your words of steel!”

She knows that voice.

“Oh, I must've been a dreamer! And I must've been someone else!”

She knows that voice very well.

“And we should've been over!”

She rushes for the front door, hoping and praying that the idiot she’s become close friends with this year isn’t actually outside her townhouse.

“Oh! Sherrie, our love holds on! Holds on!”

She whips the door open and, sure enough, drunkenly singing to her neighbor's house is Bradley Bradshaw.

“Bradley!” She hisses at him, ignoring the flutters in her stomach when he points his big, goofy grin towards her and not the tulips the soccer girls next door planted in front of their bay window. “What are you doing? It’s 10 PM!”

“You didn’t come.”

“First man to ever care about that.” She mutters, snorting at her joke.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing. What are you doing here?”

His puppy dog eyes are vicious, and she has the urge to slap her hand over her eyes so she doesn’t succumb to their power. “You didn’t come to the party!”

Sherrie sighs, she thought he might be disappointed she didn’t come to the annual Sigma Chi Easter Bash, but she never thought he would actually notice her absence. Or that it would result in a drunken serenade.

“Bradley, I told you I had a lot of grading and might not make it tonight.” She gently reminds him, stifling a laugh when he trips over his own feet while standing still. “You okay?”

“I have to pee. Can I come in?”

She’s pretty sure he’s just making excuses but lets him in any way; she doesn’t need to deal with him getting a public indecency charge on top of everything else. “Shoes off, Bradshaw. Bathroom is right here; I’ll be in the dining room.”

“Yes, ma’am!” He sloppily salutes her, losing his balance and thunking against the wall, one shoe still on.

Sherrie just blinks at him before returning to her spot at the dining room table, holding in the laugh threatening to escape. She settles in her chair, focusing on the mediocre reports her students had turned in.

“I washed my hands!” Bradley’s abrupt entrance startles her. “Can we have a snack? I’m hungry?

She watches in amusement as he shuffles to her fridge, riffling through the shelves before opening the freezer and gasping.

“I love pretzels. Can we make these? Please?”

The box of pretzels belongs to her roommate, but she’s not strong enough to deny Bradley’s big brown eyes two times in a row so she makes a mental note to buy Amna a new box the next time she goes to the store. “Yeah, we can. But no touching the oven when you’re drunk. Go sit down.”

“I’m not drunk!” He argues even as he follows her directions, plopping himself at the table and nosily leafing through her done pile. “Wow, lots of red here.”

“Bradley! Don’t look at those!”

“Why not?”

“Would you want some random student looking through your homework?”

His rebuttal gets cut off by the oven beeping, announcing it’s up to temp. After she pops the tray in the oven, she turns and catches him appreciating the pj shorts riding up her shapely legs.

“What?” Her head cocks in confusion.

“Nothin'… cute shorts.”

“Thank you.” He watches in fascination as she snips at him even while her cheeks turn pink. “It’s almost like I was dressed for comfort and not planning on being interrupted.”

“But you’re glad I’m here, right?”

“I’ve had worse company on a Friday night.” She nudges him out of her chair. “While those are baking, go find something to watch, and I’m going to finish grading this report.”

“Such a responsible TA.”

Pride fills his chest as Sherrie snorts at his joke and goes back to work. They’ve officially been friends since last year, but he still tries his hardest to make her laugh. She's always so busy and stressed, and she does the cutest little snort-laugh when he catches her off guard.

He puts on a random movie, just grabbing a VHS case with the Disney logo on the side, before plopping on the couch. “Is there a reason you have so many kids movies?”

“Those are Jayla’s, she collects them.” Sherrie answers, never looking up from the table. “What did you choose?”

“It’s a surprise!”

“You don’t remember, huh?”

“Nope! I’ll be quiet now.”

She hums a thank you in his direction, and Bradley keeps his promise, watching her work and staying quiet until the timer goes off. His chin hooked on the back of the couch; he follows her movement through the kitchen as she pulls the pretzels out and transfers them to a plate.

“Can I have mustard, please?”

“Sure can.” Sherrie smiles at his dopey smile as she makes her way to the couch. “Here, take these, then we can eat.”

He gulps down the painkillers she drops in his hand, chugging the rest of the apple juice after they’re gone, smiling when she absentmindedly praises him for listening. He shoves a bite of pretzel in his mouth and mashes the play button, and is pleasantly surprised to find A Bug’s Life was the mystery choice.

“I love this movie,” he garbles through a pretzel. “I love how Flick wins over the princess just by getting a chance to show off his true self.”

“That was shockingly wise for the drunk man sprawled on my couch.”

Bradley thanks her, already a bit more sober but not enough to pick up on her teasing. “So, why didn’t you come? Grading really couldn’t wait?”

“It probably could have, but I’m not a partier, Bradley. You know that.” She dips a piece of pretzel in the mustard. “Besides, I really didn’t think you would notice I wasn’t there, Mr. Popular.”

“You’re the only person I invited; of course, I noticed when you didn’t show up.”

“Really? No one else? Why?”

“I know it’s almost finals, but I wanted to hang out without any books in front of us; that’s all we do lately. Study. Plus, you’ve been extra stressed about something that you don’t want to talk about, and I just wanted you to relax since you won’t talk to me about whatever is bothering you.”

“That’s sweet of you, Bradley. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you; it’s just that my family has been…” She waves a hand through the air, a deep sigh escaping. “It’s complicated. I’m trying not to think about it too much.”

“Well, I’m here if you do want to talk.”

“Thanks bud. How about you? How’re your parents?” She takes one last chunk before nudging the plate in his direction and settling back into the corner.

“Mom is good; she’s close to being considered cancer-free. I think we’re gonna throw a party when she gets there.”

“That’s awesome, Bradley! I’m glad she’s doing so well. How’s your dad?”

“Mav isn’t my dad.”

A record scratch plays in Sherrie’s head as she freezes. She knows she’s heard Bradley talk about his dad, and she’d seen photos of his parents the one time she had visited his frat house last year. He had specifically pointed the photo out, telling her it was his parents. She had even been next to him when he was on the phone when he said “dad” to the person on the other end.

“My dad died when I was three. Mav is- was his best friend. I call him dad sometimes because he’s the closest thing I’ve got.”

Sherrie feels her heart break as Bradley sniffles and sadly shoves a mustard-covered pretzel in his mouth, unshed tears clumping his eyelashes. She’s never seen her friend like this before; she’s experienced many other emotions - frustration, joy, confusion - but the pain creasing his brow is new.

Comforting crying people has never been her forte, but instinctively - almost like they moved without her permission - Sherrie’s fingers run over his hair. Gently stroking the sun-streaked waves as a few tears escape down his cheeks and she scoots closer, letting her body press into his side and hoping the proximity helps.

“I’m sorry for crying on you.” He quietly apologizes after a few minutes of tears.

“S’okay. Family can be hard sometimes.”

“Complicated.”

“That too.” She hums, not moving as he swipes at his eyes and leans against her more, his head resting on her shoulder in a slouched position that can’t be comfortable.

“I love Mav; he’s my dad in all the ways it matters. It just sucks that my actual dad won’t be here for graduation. Like, I know he’s missed so much of my life already, but something about him missing college graduation is worse than everything else. It’s just so unfair; I barely remember him, but I just- I just miss him so much, Sherrie.”

Her heart cracks in half at the whispered confession. She can’t even imagine the pain of losing a parent at such a young age. The inability to remember one of the people responsible for giving you life, all memories fuzzy and most built from second-hand recollections of those who can remember. So she says the one thing she would want to hear.

“Tell me about him.”

Sherrie knows she said the right thing when his red-rimmed eyes brighten, and he immediately launches into a beloved story detailing his father’s love of pranks. She listens dutifully — laughing at the right moments and asking questions when Bradley gets carried away, forgetting that she doesn’t know all the people in his story — and feels her heart warm more and more. She’s always liked Bradley, probably more than she should, but it’s hard not to like him. He’s considerate, smart, and funny, not to mention handsome.

Thankfully, before she gets lost in thoughts of broad shoulders and strong jawlines, a big glob of mustard drops on Bradley’s t-shirt, abruptly cutting him off. The two stare in silence at the yellow condiment sitting on the black cotton shirt, somehow surprised at its appearance, before breaking down into giggles.

“C’mon Bradshaw,” Sherrie grabs his hand, pulling him off the couch. “I have a Tide pen we can use on that mess.”

Bradley follows her up the stairs and into the bathroom, teasing Sherrie about the way her tongue pokes out when she focuses. She takes the gentle taunts, grateful he’s focusing on that and not on her pink cheeks or the way her eyes keep darting to his toned stomach. She’s not sure it was completely necessary for him to strip his shirt off, but she won’t be complaining.

“Well,” A few minutes later, she interrupts his rambling story about a slip and slide. Or she thinks that’s what it’s about; she missed the first part. “I think this is as good as I can get it.”

“That’s okay; it’s not like it’s new or anything. Thanks, Sherrie.”

She steadfastly ignores the pounding heart in her chest as miles of golden skin gets covered back up, trying to not feel too disappointed by its disappearance.

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 3:56 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“Oh, this is ridiculous!” Bradley complains a bit too loudly, ears going hot when several pairs of eyes curiously dart toward him, but his focus doesn’t stay on that for very long when he catches the face Sherrie makes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

He squints suspiciously as she avoids eye contact. He usually takes her at her word and doesn’t push, but the frown pulling down the corners of her pink lips sets off bells in his head. “Sherrie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Bradley. I’m fine.”

He grumbles at her lack of response but settles again in the spot they had claimed after finishing their snack. The gate was still packed, but they had found a prime location with outlets; the only downside was having to sit on the floor, something that is getting harder the older they get.

Bradley scans the area, trying to scout out some open chairs for them to grab, while Sherrie goes back to the movie they’ve been watching on his phone. His eyes drop away from the chairs in surprise when she scoots closer and leans on his shoulder. It’s not uncommon for them to sit close like this at home in Boston, sides pressed together, but she makes a point to be professional when they’re on travel.

“Hey,” he gently nudges her side, concern rising when she doesn’t lift her head, choosing to tilt her neck back, looking up at him with tired eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Panic grips his chest when tears start forming, clouding her green eyes. “Sherrie?! What’s wrong?”

“We were supposed to be halfway home by now, and I’m so uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Bradley, I’m just so tired.” She whimpers, hiding against his bicep.

It hits him like a glass of cold water. Of course, she’s uncomfortable. She’s been walking around in heels and her pantsuit since 4AM California time after getting maybe three hours of sleep. His suit and shoes are comfortable and easily wearable for twelve-plus hours, not to mention the jacket and tie that were ditched sometime after the mustard incident.

“Oh, Sherrie, it’s okay. Let’s go change, yeah? Then we’ll find a quieter place so you can close your eyes and maybe get some sleep.”

“But the policy…”

Bradley resists the urge to roll his eyes at her insistence on rule-following. “In the nicest way possible, Sher, fuck the policy. You’re uncomfortable, and I care about that way more than I could ever care about a stupid, archaic policy.”

He stands, unplugging their phones and gathering their bags on his shoulder before turning to his best friend, who is still on the floor. “C’mon, we’re putting comfy clothes on.”

“But Bradley-”

“No arguing.” He interrupts, helping her off the ground and directing them back towards the restrooms. “We’re not going to sit in our suits for god knows how much longer.”

“But Bradley, I don’t have anything to change into. We had such a packed schedule I didn’t bother to bring normal clothes.” He ignores the thumping of his heart when her hand grabs his forearm, warm fingers slipping under the edge of the rolled-up sleeve as she tugs to slow his pace. At that information, he slides them out of the flow of traffic and over to the wall, Bradley pressing her against one of the columns lining the concourse atrium.

“You don’t have any regular clothes? What about your pajamas?”

“I have a pair of leggings because I was going to do a training run in the gym last night, but that’s it. I can’t wear my pjs because… well, they’re not appropriate for public.”

“Your leggings are clean, though, right?” He asks, ignoring the thoughts of what non-public appropriate pajamas might look like.

“Well, yeah, dinner went so late I barely had time to sleep before we had to be up. I guess I could buy a shirt at one of the SmartShop- what are you doing?”

Bradley peers up from his knees, where he had started digging in his bag. “I’m grabbing one of my shirts for you. Would you prefer a t-shirt or a sweatshirt? Actually, you’re definitely gonna get cold, sweatshirt for you.”

He pulls the worn, gray crew neck out, shaking it out before handing it over.

“You still have this?” The disbelief in her voice makes him laugh.

“Of course, I still have that! Relay was always my favorite event of the year. And that year was my favorite one.”

As the philanthropy chair of Sigma Chi, part of his job was to sign the brothers up for volunteer events and fundraisers. With his mom’s diagnosis, he ensured their schedule included the campus’ annual Relay for Life event, pouring as many resources as he could into the fundraiser that directly helped advance cancer research.

“Wait, but why was junior year your favorite?” She asks, brushing her fingers over the cracked, screen-printed logo.

“Because that’s the reason we became friends, Sher.”

Surprised green eyes meet sincere brown eyes, a thousand words said in the silence of their stares, both remembering the lead-up to that day in April so many years ago.

Bradley’s eyes widen in panic as everyone at the gate starts moving as a herd. They had finally found seats to relax in after changing, the group of passengers waiting with them shrinking as time went on. And now, with only ten minutes until boarding, their gate has changed again.

“Sherrie, wake up!” He feels bad shaking the snoozing woman off, but they have to move with the group to make it to the new part of Terminal A in time for their flight. “C’mon, honey, they changed the gate again — we gotta go!”

“What are you- again?! Shit!” She wipes the bleariness from her eyes, slinging her bags over her shoulder and grabbing the hand he holds out.

The two coworkers, along with fifty of their fellow passengers who have stuck this out, speed walk down the first branch of the terminal. The entire group picking up the pace when turning the corner towards the second branch where the new gate lives. By the time they hit the second branch, everyone is practically running — time ticking down to boarding — no one wanting to miss this flight.

As if the blob of Flight 1121 passengers racing toward the end of the terminal didn’t garner attention from other gates, the entire terminal is staring by the time they reach gate A28, and several people start yelling in frustration.

“This is unbelievable!” An older gentleman’s unhappiness is interrupted by three simultaneous updates pinging everyone’s phones.

Bradley’s head drops back in disbelief, wrapping his arm around Sherrie when her head thunks against his chest. He doesn’t even get a chance to comfort her before the gate agents are making announcements about getting people on other flights, providing hotel rooms, and the vouchers that will be shared.

“Again, we apologize, but if you have flexible travel plans, we ask that you please go to the end of the line so those with time constraints can be taken care of first. Thank you for your cooperation, folks!”

“Well, that’s us, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sherrie blows air out of her lips, a mischievous smile taking over her face. “Hey, at least this means extra per diem money.”

Bradley laughs as they move to the back of the squiggly line that’s forming, letting her take the bags so he can step away to call to update their supervisor and then his pet sitter. It only takes a few rings for his boss to pick up. “Bradshaw! What’s up? You okay?”

“Hey Martin, all good. Just wanted to let you know that our flight has gotten supremely delayed. We won’t be home until tomorrow morning sometime.”

“Jesus, do you guys need anything?”

“Nah, we’re good. The airline is putting us up in a hotel for the night and giving vouchers for a bunch of stuff. Just called to let you know and for a heads up on the expense report.”

“Well, that is the most important part!” Martin’s honking laugh makes Bradley chuckle as he glances to check on Sherrie’s progress in line. “How’s Sherrie? She good?”

“Yeah, she’s good. She’s holding our spot in line for getting new tickets and stuff.” And it looks like she’s made friends already, he silently adds, smiling at her interacting with the elderly couple in front of her.

“Good. Alright then, I’ll see you on Monday, but let me know if you guys need anything. And hey! If you two end up in the same hotel room — remember what I said on your first day!”

The line goes dead, and so does Bradley’s smile, his stomach churning like it does every time he remembers his first day at the Wells Corporation.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007 | 11:15 AM EST | Boston, MA

“Will you calm down?”

“I can’t, Bradley. What if no one likes me? What if I fuck up?!” She hisses, working to appear calm as they wait for their supervisor to show up, but failing.

“First of all, we’re starting together, so you have at least one person that likes you. And you’re great, everyone will like you. Second, there will be mistakes, but we just graduated — they’re not going to let us do anything alone because we don’t know anything yet.”

Sherrie nods, tucking her hands under her legs and trying to breathe. Bradley’s words are encouraging, but he doesn’t know how difficult her internship was last summer. The older engineers she shadowed treated her like a glorified coffee girl and secretary. Even when she had pointed out a mistake they all had missed, there was no change — just the addition of making her type their reports to see if she could catch something the non-engineer tech writers would miss.

This is a brand new company, but misogyny wasn’t unique to Waite Green Construction. Every woman has to work twice as hard to prove her worth and intellect, no matter her age or experience. She’s just hoping her onboarding mentor will be the only other woman in the department; it would be the perfect way to gain a professional mentor once she’s out of the probation period.

“Good morning, kids! How was orientation?” Mr. Teresi walks into the conference room.

Bradley shakes his hand first, “It was good, sir. Nice to see you again.”

“Good to hear! Learn lots of new things.”

“Yes, I think we can be considered experts on trade secrets now.” Sherrie jokes, focusing on making sure her handshake is firm but not too firm.

“Wonderful. So, I’m guessing you two have been introduced, but just in case you haven’t. Bradley, this is Sherrie McHone; she’s an electrical engineer. And Sherrie, this is Bradley Bradshaw, a mechanical engineer.”

“We actually went to school together, sir.”

“We’re friends,” Bradley adds, the two of them exchanging small smiles.

“Oh, great! Well, that makes things easier getting started. Now let’s go over my plan for the two of you, and then we’ll get lunch, my treat for your first day.”

Their supervisor talks for half an hour, going over things they’ll need to be trained in and their first assignments. By the time he’s done, several notebook pages have been filled and highlighted with things that need to be looked up.

“Alright!” The older engineer claps, rubbing his hands together. “I’m sure your brains are overloaded with information, so go drop your things at your desks, and we’ll head to lunch.”

The recent graduates gather their notes and head for the door, quietly talking about a training they’ll be attending next week when he stops them. “One more thing, guys. They never mention it during R&D orientation, but I feel it’s necessary to mention it to new people. Here at Wells, there isn’t a fraternization policy among non-management coworkers or between any employees in different divisions. But we are a fairly small department, so keep in mind who you interact with and what impacts that may have at work.”

Sherrie feels the blood drain from her already pale face as her brand new supervisor stares at her the entire time he speaks, ignoring Bradley completely. She’s going to be sick. Less than four hours into the first professional role of her career, and it’s already happening.

This is the moment it starts, she thinks, her heart pounding in her throat as she robotically nods. It’s never the men that get these warnings. It’s always the women. Always us. Always me.

“I don’t care about that. But there are some people who will, even though they shouldn’t. And I want you guys to have the best experience here you possibly can. You’re both extremely bright, and I’m excited about your futures. I don’t want you to get bogged down by the opinions of others. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” They answer in unison before filing out of the conference room.

“Sherrie, don’t worry about that. He’s just-”

“Trust me, Bradley. I know exactly what he was saying. I’m going to use the restroom, and then I’ll meet you guys at the elevator.”

“Sherrie…”

But she ignores her friend, shrugging her purse over her shoulder and keeping her face neutral as she heads for the single-stall ladies’ room. Fighting to hold the tears back until she’s inside for fear of being perceived as emotional. A quality no woman can afford to have in a professional setting.

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 8:05 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“Hey, everything? Martin says hi.”

“We’re good! This is Mr. and Mrs. Ludden; they’re going to visit their newest granddaughter. How’re Sophie and Louis?” Bradley smiles at the excited way she introduces them, putting a steadying hand on her back when she bounces up on her toes.

“Oh, congrats! They’re good; Marie can watch’em one more day, problem.”

“Good, we’ll have to get her a thank you present for the short notice.”

“You didn’t tell us you guys had kids!”

Bradley and Sherrie freeze in place, eyes widening in surprise at the older woman’s words.

“Oh- uh- we-” Sherrie giggles awkwardly. “Sophie and Louis are our cats; we don’t have kids.”

“I’m so sorry!” Mrs. Ludden gasps, hand covering her mouth in shock while her husband groans her name.

“Louise, how many times do we have to do this before you stop making assumptions?”

“It’s okay, innocent mistake,” Bradley assures them.

“Well, they’re such a cute couple. I just thought they would have adorable children, too!”

“Actually… we’re not…”

“Oh, lord. Let me guess. You’re not dating. You’re just friends.”

“Coworkers too, but we were friends first.” Sherrie suppresses a laugh when the older gentleman rubs a hand over his eyes in exasperation.

“Don’t even start, Clayton!”

“I wasn’t going to, dear.”

Bradley can’t help the laugh that escapes at the comfortable ribbing they give each other; it reminds him of his friendship with Sherrie. The easy way they tease, never going too far.

“Would you two like to join us after we get rebooked?” Bradley asks. “We’re going to use our food vouchers tonight to grab dinner before we head to whatever hotel they put us up in.”

The four adults move through the line, chatting about small things and comparing pictures of grandkids and cats. It’s a nice way to spend the time, especially when they get to share judging looks when a woman throws a tantrum and yells at the gate agent. But soon enough, they’re walking back to the main concourse and deciding what food to get.

“No, stop. You just sit here with the bags, and I’ll grab the food.” Bradley gently pushes Sherrie back into her chair, rolling his eyes as he talks over her protests. “I know. You want mac and cheese, Diet Coke, and whatever pulled pork flavor looks best.”

“He’s sweet,” Louise says, watching the two men make their way over to the BBQ place.

“He’s annoying.” Which makes her companion laugh. “Yes, he’s very sweet. I’m lucky to be such good friends with him.”

“Can I ask why the two of you aren’t together? He even knows what food to bring you.”

“It’s just never been like that between us. We’ve always just been friends. And he’s annoyingly smart, so he always remembers what I order.” Sherrie half smiles, pushing down the pain in her chest at the harmless curiosity, watching Bradley laugh at something Clayton says as she remembers the first time he remembered one of her favorites.

Saturday, March 4, 2006 | 1:34 PM EST | Charlottesville, VA

“Thanks for meeting me on a Saturday, Bradshaw. It’s just such a busy semester.”

“No problem. You know you can call me Bradley, right?”

“Oh, sorry. Do you not like being called Bradshaw?” Sherrie blinks when a bottle of Diet Coke and a small bag of Skittles is set on the table in front of her. “What’s this?”

“Your favorite snack.”

“Right… but why?”

“Because you have that about 50% of the time when we meet up to work on this project. Now, I finished transcribing the interview with Commander Buck last night. Did you want to- Sherrie?”

She shifts her focus from the food to the boy across from her in the study nook they’ve claimed as theirs for the semester. “Why do you remember my favorite snack?”

“Because we’re friends?” Brown eyes look into hers, equally confused.

“We’re friends?”

“I hope so; otherwise, this is gonna get awkward when you hug me in a minute.”

“Why am I going to hug you?!”

Bradley laughs at her flabbergasted expression, but it doesn’t hurt her feelings like it does when other people laugh at her. Something about the tone of the laugh makes it feel like he’s laughing at her, but rather with her, and she just doesn’t know the joke yet.

“Because as team captain, I am happy to announce to the Relay Chair that Sigma Chi has officially raised $5,000 thanks to your idea.”

“Bradley, that’s incredible!” She doesn’t feel silly when she bounces around the table to hug his neck, rocking them back and forth in excitement.

“Well, if you think that’s good - let me show you what we’re anticipating to raise this month…”

Friday, July 15, 2016 | 10:12 PM EST | Charlotte, NC

“I just don’t understand how we’re having such bad luck!”

Sherrie rolls her eyes as he unlocks the door. “Bradley, breathe. You’re being very dramatic right now.”

“How is “we’re out of rooms” a legitimate reason for the hotel to give? Not that I mind sharing with you, but like how is that possible? The airline specifically works with them to book rooms for things like this! And the airline! That gate agent who wanted to book us to fly into Hartford and then drive the rest of the way to Boston! That's insane!”

“I don’t know, the Bradley flying into Bradley joke was pretty funny.” She mutters, clicking the lights on as she checks the cleanliness of the room.

“It wasn’t.” Bradley pouts, flopping onto the bed closest to the door. “Do you want to shower first?”

“No, go ahead, but I’m going to wash my face first so I can do a face mask. I’m so dry from the airport air.” He listens to the sounds of water running and the quiet humming as she carefully applies the drenched sheet to her skin. “All yours!”

“Thanks, Sher. I won’t be long.”

He showers quickly but takes extra time cleaning his teeth, his mouth feeling gross after the long travel day. When he comes out, he’s surprised at how cozy the room feels. With only one lamp on, the air conditioning set low to keep the fan running, and an old movie on the TV, it almost feels like they could be at home in his living room. They silently move around each other, Sherrie heading to the bathroom with a pile of things while Bradley organizes his things for the morning, wanting to get as much rest as possible before their early alarm.

He scrolls through emails and texts while he waits for her to shower, turning the television off since he knows there’s a small chance of either of them making it five minutes after they kill the lights. He's updating Mav on tomorrow’s travel plans when Sherrie comes out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel. Bradley sees her packing things out of the corner of his eye, not fully paying attention until he plugs his phone in.

“That’s what you wear to bed?”

“Bradley!” He laughs at how she jumps, her hands coming down to cover her shorts.

“What? They’re cute! Very pink.”

Her face goes as pink as the pajama set she’s wearing. “Stop making fun of me!”

“I’m not! You know, I love strawberries.” He can’t help the way his eyes roam up and down her body, admiring from the spaghetti straps on her smooth shoulders to the scalloped edge of her shorts. “I see why you didn’t want to change into those at the airport.”

“Oh my god…” She huffs, climbing into her own queen bed and stuffing herself under the sheets. “You set an alarm, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. Want me to turn the light off?”

“Please. God, this day cannot be over soon enough.”

He chuckles and turns the lamp off, listening to her shuffle around in the sheets as she gets comfortable. It’s quiet for a few minutes, and he can hear her breathing leveling out, but he can’t keep quiet; the conversation at the airport running through his mind.

“Sher?” It takes a second, but she quietly hums in response. “We have to talk about it again.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Sherrie-”

“No, Bradley. We talked about this two weeks ago. Nothing has changed since then.”

“Yes, things have changed since then. You interviewed for that principal engineer position. Which if you get-”

“I’m not going to get it. They’re going to pick Trevor.”

“They’re going to pick you. You’re the best person for the job!”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it.”

He’s silent, the crushing weight on his chest feeling heavier when he hears her sniffle.

“Oh, Sherrie…” He slips out of his bed and into hers, wrapping the woman he loves in his arms. He lets her cry, knowing she’s frustrated and exhausted, only speaking up again when she’s calmed down. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“No, I’m sorry, Bradley. It’s not fair that we’ve been dancing around this for so many years, and I keep saying no. You deserve someone who isn’t afraid to be with you. Not a coward like me.”

“You’re not a coward; you’re one of the bravest people I know, Sherrie Anne McHone. I know how critical people are of women, in this field especially. And I love you, so I don’t mind waiting until we’re in a position that you’re confident won’t jeopardize your career. So, we’ll wait to hear about the job, and once you hear that you’ve gotten it, I’m treating you to the nicest dinner in Boston.”

“Bradley, we don’t know-”

“I know we don’t know. But think about how it would be if it does. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

“But what about-”

“Doesn’t matter, honey.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.” Sherrie mumbles, cuddling further into his side, making it clear that he wasn’t allowed to leave.

“I know, but it doesn’t matter, whatever it is — we’ll figure it out.”

Saturday, July 16, 2016 | 10:32 AM EST | Somewhere over Virginia

“She’ll take a ginger ale; thank you so much.” Bradley balances his apple juice, the two packets of Biscoff cookies, and the bubbling soda he got for Sherrie. The smiling flight attendant moves past their row as he turns to his row companion.

They’re finally on their way home after waking up to more delay announcements. The additional time meant there was time to get coffee and some fruit from the hotel before their taxi back to the airport arrived, and the Luddens had even stopped to chat for a second at the gate, excited that they had gotten bumped up to first class since the flight was nearly empty.

All things considered, it had been a good morning even though Sherrie was insisting on working during the flight. Bradley is sure it’s an attempt to ignore their talk from last night, not wanting to dwell on the emotional moment when things are still so up in the air.

He looks over at the woman he’s known since he was eighteen, overwhelmed for a moment by how little things have changed since the first time he ever noticed her. Bradley fondly watches as she furiously types, hunched over her laptop with headphones, playing what he knows is eighties hair bands.

Her nose wrinkles in frustration, and suddenly it’s 2003 again, and he’s trying to get the attention of the red-haired girl whose table has the only empty chair left, something he desperately needs since this book can’t leave the library. He’s unable to get her attention and resorts to knocking on the table, heart skipping a beat when the prettiest green eyes he’s ever seen blink up at him. Bradley gestures at the empty chair, silently asking if he can sit, and is grateful when she nods because her smile is making his knees wobble. For the next hour, he tries to take notes for his paper, but he keeps getting distracted by the beautiful girl across from him. Bradley isn’t sure if he’s upset or happy when she packs up her stuff and leaves, giving him a little wave when she notices him watching her.

That had been thirteen years ago, and her intense focus still distracts him, but he’s not afraid to interrupt her this time. Fingers rub her arm that is covered in his sweatshirt again, but this time, he knows it smells like her shampoo instead of his cologne. Her smile still sends his heart skipping when she looks up at him, her pretty eyes widening in joy when she catches sight of the red snack packaging and the plastic cup holding her second favorite soda.

“Thank you!” She whispers, leaning across the empty middle seat in their row to kiss his cheek. “Oh, and we should go out to lunch when we get back! I want to try that new noodle place that opened in Southie.”

He just smiles when she immediately gets back to work; cheek puffed out from the cookie she stuffed in her mouth.

Maybe she’s not avoiding their talk from last night.

Thursday, August 11, 2017 | 2:15 PM EST | Boston, MA

“You got a minute?” Bradley knocks on the edge of her cubicle. It may be a different floor of their building, but all of the office space is the same dated stuff from decades ago.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“First of all…” He ducks down and presses a swift kiss to her plush mouth, still trying to make up for all those years he couldn’t. “And don’t say anything because I already checked before I did because I wanted to kiss my girl.”

He chuckles at the pink spots that shine on her cheeks. It’s been a year since Sherrie snagged the promotion, and they officially became an item, but she still turns a little red whenever he says something sweet.

“Second, you are all packed, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“I was gonna swing by the apartment and get our bags so we can head straight to the airport after work.”

“You took the afternoon off? Why?”

Bradley was expecting this question and smoothly fibs. “I worked the hours out with Martin for this week so I could run a few last-minute errands. Do you want me to grab snacks?”

“Okay, Mr. Secrets. When you’re at home, could you water the ivy? I forgot this morning, and I don’t want it to die while we’re gone.”

“Of course! Need me to do anything else?”

Sherrie hums, staring at the ceiling as she thinks. “One more kiss?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bradley happily complies with her request.

“Okay, now you have to go. I have to finish prepping for this meeting where I get to yell at Sean.”

“That’s my girl. I’ll pick you up later. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Have fun with your mysterious errands.” Sherrie teases, and Bradley smirks back, knowing how much she would be freaking out if he knew what he would be doing while she professionally reamed out their least favorite colleague.

“Thanks, honey. Text me if you think of something.” Sherrie waves over her shoulder, already zoned back into her work.

Bradley doesn’t dare look at his buzzing phone until he’s safely on the elevator, pleased to see confirmation texts from their hotel and the airline. Would it be cheesy to quietly propose in the airport that was a catalyst in their relationship? Maybe, but he knew Sherrie would love it. He’s just hoping the TSA didn’t call out the ring that would be hiding in his carry-on.

#deltasupremacy I also want to give a special thanks to @sometimesanalice, who gave so much encouragement through the texts despite having no idea what I was writing - you're the best! tagged some friends and most those who interacted with the original announcement post for this fic all those months ago!

tagging: @gretagerwigsmuse @sometimesanalice @laracrofted @theharddeck @hangmanbrainrot @hangmanssunnies @thesewordsareallihavetogive @princessphilly @katieshook02 @atarmychick007 @kmc1989 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @misfitpeach @luckyladycreator2 @scarlettwidow19 @mini-bee-bee @midnightstarqueen @shamelessghostwagonwobbler

divider credit

[andreai04]

"Children are caterpillars and adults are butterflies. No butterfly ever remembers what it felt like being a caterpillar."

[danielleurbansblog]

Review: Puppy Love at Mistletoe Junction

Synopsis: From the author of Dog Days Forever, a heartfelt, holiday contemporary romance, in which a young woman returns to her small hometown and ends up fostering a pregnant dog with—of all people—the man she used to love. Lucy Buchanan and Theo Taylor have never gotten along…like ever. Not when they were children, not when they were teenagers, and definitely not as adults…though that last…

[spidergrotto]

oh? what am i reading this holiday season?? the found family marvel christmas fics thanks for asking

[cherry-zip]

─ • CSC .ᐟ Kindergarten Crush

› content ┆ ceo scoups x kindergarten teacher fem reader, fluff ✎ word-count .ᐟ 3.3k. ⌁ summary ┆CEO Choi Seungcheol can not help but fall in love with the one kindergaten teacher who takes best care of his son while he is late. He's making it his mission to be the best father so you would accept to love and take care of him too.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated!

It was the kind of late afternoon when the last streaks of sunlight filtered through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow on the cozy space inside. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of a cartoon playing on the projector screen. A blanket was spread across the floor, surrounded by pillows of every shape and color. In the middle of it all were two figures: a small boy, whose legs were tucked beneath him as he sat cross-legged on the blanket, and his teacher, you, sitting beside him with a gentle smile on your face.

You were everything a child could ask for in a teacher—warm, caring, and endlessly patient. Your laughter was infectious, and your ability to make every child feel seen and heard was unmatched. You had a particular soft spot for one student in your class, a tiny boy named Seungwoo. He was shy, and often a bit reserved, but there was something in his wide eyes and sweet smile that melted your heart every time.

That day, Seungwoo had stayed after school, as he often did, for some extra playtime in the reading zone waiting for his father to pick him up. His classmates had all gone home, and you had promised him you'd watch his favorite cartoon together. And so, there you both were—Seungwoo nibbling on a cookie as he snuggled into a pillow beside you.

"Are you sure your mom and dad don't mind you staying a bit longer, Seungwoo?" you asked softly, your eyes twinkling with affection as you handed him another cookie.

Seungwoo shook his head, a tiny smile forming on his lips. "Dad's always busy, but he likes it when I stay here. He says I’m safe with you."

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words. "Well, you're safe with me anytime, sweetie. And I'll always have cookies and cartoons waiting for you."

Just as the cartoon reached its climax, the sound of the door opening made you turn. Standing in the doorway, looking every bit as polished and serious as he always did, was Choi Seungcheol, the CEO of a major tech company. Also well known for his handsome looks. His sharp dark suit and expensive watch contrasted with the cozy, colorful childlike atmosphere of the classroom, but the sight before him made his chest tighten.

There, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was his son Seungwoo, laughing and enjoying his time with you. You were sharing cookies, the kind you always baked with your students in mind, and sipping on fruit juice as you watched the cartoon. The sight of you—your gentle smile as you carefully adjusted a pillow for Seungwoo, the way Seungwoo’s face lit up every time you spoke—was so pure, so heartwarming, that Seungcheol’s heart skipped a beat.

His usual sharp and composed demeanor faltered for a split second as he stood there, taking in the moment. He hadn’t expected to find such a sweet scene after his long day of meetings, but it was exactly what he needed to see. It felt like everything he had worked so hard for—his long hours and high-pressure job—was being undone by something as simple as this: someone’s love and attention for his son.

You noticed him standing there, and your face lit up in that familiar, welcoming smile. "Ah, Mr. Choi! I didn’t expect you this late. Seungwoo wanted to stay a little longer, so we’re just finishing up with some cookies and a cartoon. How was your meeting?"

Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile, softer than usual. "It went well, thank you. I’m sorry for being late."

Seungwoo, noticing his father, scrambled to his feet, rushing over to him with a bright grin. "Dad! You’re here!" he exclaimed, holding up a cookie in the offering. "Want one?"

Seungcheol’s heart melted at his son’s enthusiasm. "Sure," he said, crouching down to accept the cookie, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. You smiled at him kindly, and for the first time in a long while, Seungcheol felt his shoulders relax.

As they all sat together on the blanket, Seungwoo between you two, Seungcheol found himself drawn into the warmth of the moment. The laughter and comfort that filled the room seemed to melt away the tension of his busy, corporate life. It was strange, how just being in this simple, peaceful setting made everything feel... right.

Over the next few weeks, Seungcheol made a quiet promise to himself. He had always been a man of routine, arriving at the school late after long hours of meetings, but now he found himself arriving just a little earlier each day. He would make sure to stop by the classroom after work, even if just for a few minutes. He wanted to see that smile you always greeted him with, to hear your gentle voice speaking to his son, making him feel safe and cared for.

Every time he saw you, a flutter would rise in his chest. You were so effortlessly kind, so good to Seungwoo. He had never realized how much of an impact a teacher could have on a child’s life until now. And perhaps—just perhaps—he was beginning to wonder what kind of impact you could have on his life, too.

One afternoon, as he arrived a little earlier than usual, you were sitting at your desk, grading papers with a focused expression. Your hair was loosely tied back, and the soft light from the window framed your face in a way that made you look even more beautiful. Seungcheol hesitated for a moment before knocking softly on the doorframe.

"Hi," he said, his voice low but steady.

You looked up and smiled warmly. "Mr. Choi, you’re early today. Is everything alright?"

He took a deep breath, the weight of the moment not lost on him. "Yes. Everything’s fine," he replied. "I... I just wanted to say thank you. For everything you do for Seungwoo. He really loves being here with you."

You blinked in surprise at the sincerity in his voice. "It’s my pleasure, Mr. Choi. Seungwoo is such a sweet boy. He’s a joy to have in class."

Seungcheol’s heart skipped a beat at your words. He stood there for a moment longer, unsure of how to express what he was feeling. But there, in the quiet space of the classroom, he realized that perhaps some things didn’t need words. Not yet, anyway.

As he walked over to where Seungwoo was playing with a set of blocks, you joined them, and for the first time in a long while, Seungcheol didn’t mind staying a little longer. He knew he would be coming to school more often now, not just to pick up his son, but because—perhaps—there was more to discover in this little classroom with its cozy reading zone, pillows, and blankets.

It wasn’t just the cookies that kept him coming back. It was you.

The following days seemed to pass in a blur, but each one held something special for him. He found himself eagerly anticipating the moment when he'd arrive at the school, hoping to catch just a glimpse of you. And it wasn’t just about Seungwoo anymore—though, of course, he adored his son and cherished the time they spent together. But there was something else now, something he couldn't quite put into words, that drew him back to the classroom every day.

Each afternoon, he would arrive a little earlier, hoping to find the moment when you and Seungwoo were still together, sharing their cookies and watching cartoons. He loved the way you laughed at the silly moments in the show and the way you gently encouraged Seungwoo to try new things, even as you made him feel comfortable at his own pace.

One particular Thursday, Seungcheol arrived with a little more excitement than usual. He had no meetings scheduled for the afternoon, so he was able to leave work early. When he entered the school, he was greeted by the soft murmur of children’s voices and the sweet scent of cookies wafting through the hallway. He smiled to himself as he walked toward the classroom. He could hear the familiar sound of your voice before he even reached the door.

"Okay, Seungwoo, what’s your guess? Will it be the blue one or the green one?"

Seungwoo giggled. "The green one! It’s always the green one!"

He stopped for a moment, listening to the laughter. He couldn't help but smile, feeling warmth in his chest. He pushed open the door and saw a familiar scenery—Seungwoo sitting on the blanket, legs crossed, with you beside him. You were playing a guessing game, and there were cookies scattered around. Your eyes lit up when you saw him.

"Mr. Choi! You’re here early today!" you said, your voice full of pleasant surprise.

Seungcheol, slightly embarrassed by how eager he felt, nodded. "I finished my work early. Thought I’d pick Seungwoo up and maybe stay for a bit."

You smiled warmly, your gaze lingering just a little longer than usual. "You’re welcome to join us, of course. We were just playing a game. Want to try?"

Seungwoo looked up, his face lighting up. "Dad, you can play too! We’re guessing the color of the candy!"

He chuckled, feeling an unexpected sense of comfort. He was used to boardroom meetings, not children's games, but something about being in this space with you and Seungwoo made him feel at ease. "Alright, I’ll give it a try," he said, taking a seat on the floor beside them. The warmth of the moment was enough to make him forget the hectic hours he spent in high-rise offices.

As you played the game, he found himself enjoying the simplicity of the moment. He listened to Seungwoo’s innocent guesses and watched you with encouraging smiles. Your laughter echoed in his heart, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was experiencing something rare, something that transcended the world of high-powered deals and deadlines.

It was clear that you had a way of making everyone around you feel special. Your love for teaching, your care for each student, and your kindness toward them had started to make a significant impact. He found himself lingering a little longer each day, unable to tear himself away from the peaceful atmosphere you created in that little classroom.

By Friday, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Seungcheol realized that he was beginning to look forward to his time together with you, even if it was just a few minutes at the end of the day. He wanted to know more about the person who had become such an important part of his son’s life. And—though he couldn’t quite admit it yet—he wanted to know more about the woman who made his heart skip every time you smiled at him.

The day dragged on longer than usual, but Seungcheol finally made his way to the school, arriving as the final bell rang. He didn’t rush this time; he took his time, knowing he had a few extra minutes to spare. When he walked into the classroom, he found you packing up some of your things.

"Miss Y/N," he said, his voice a little softer than usual, "I wanted to thank you again for everything you’ve been doing for Seungwoo. He really enjoys his time here, and I can tell he’s learning so much from you."

You smiled up at him from the desk, your eyes warm and kind. "It’s my pleasure, Mr. Choi. Seungwoo is such a bright boy. I’m really lucky to have him in my class."

There was a quiet pause between you two, and you felt something shift in the air, a subtle, unspoken connection that had been growing stronger with each day. He had to take a deep breath before speaking again.

"I was wondering… if you might be free sometime? Maybe we could grab a coffee? Just… as a thank you. You know, for all the kindness you’ve shown Seungwoo and for making me feel so welcome."

The words hung in the air between you. For a brief moment, Seungcheol cursed himself for being so straightforward, so vulnerable. But when he looked at you, he saw your smile soften, your eyes lighting up in a way that made his heart race.

"I’d love that," you said, your voice gentle. "I’m usually free on weekends if that works for you."

A surge of relief washed over him. "That sounds perfect. I’ll let you know when."

You exchanged numbers with a small, tentative smile, both of you feeling the weight of what this moment might mean. Seungcheol could feel his pulse quicken at the thought of spending more time with you, outside the classroom. He had known for a while now that there was something special about you, something that made him feel alive in ways you hadn't expected.

When you left the school that afternoon, your heart was full in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. The thought of meeting him for coffee and talking about something other than Seungwoo and school made your chest tighten in excitement. You hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine this kind of connection in years, but now, with every smile from him, you felt yourself pulling closer.

As the days passed, you looked forward to your coffee date, knowing that this was just the beginning of something that felt as sweet and simple as the cookies you’d shared in that classroom, surrounded by pillows and laughter

The days that followed were filled with anticipation, and he found himself counting down the hours until Saturday. Though he had many things to do—business deals, phone calls, tasks at the office—nothing felt as important as the upcoming coffee date with you. The thought of seeing you outside of school, getting to know the person behind the kind, gentle teacher, made his heart flutter in ways he hadn’t felt in years.

Saturday finally arrived, and he made sure to arrive at the café a little early. The air was crisp, a hint of winter beginning to settle in. He stood outside, adjusting his jacket, checking his watch, running a hand through his hair. He tried hard to not look too eager, but the truth was, he had been looking forward to this moment all week.

When he saw you walking toward him, a soft smile on your face, his heart skipped a beat. You looked effortlessly beautiful, wearing a simple yet elegant dress paired with a cozy cardigan. The way you carried yourself, with grace and warmth, made you seem like you were in your element.

"Hi, Mr. Choi!" you greeted him, your voice light and friendly. "I hope I’m not late."

His nerves settled at the sound of your voice, and he couldn’t help but smile. "Not at all, Miss Y/N. I just got here a few minutes ago. I’m glad you could make it."

You walked into the café together, the scent of coffee and fresh pastries welcoming you inside. Seungcheol led you to a quiet corner, where the soft hum of conversation and the low music in the background made the space feel intimate and cozy. As he sat down, he couldn’t help but notice how at ease you seemed, how your presence brought an unexpected peace to your usually hectic world.

"I have to admit," he said, leaning back in his chair, "I wasn’t sure what to expect. I mean, we usually talk about Seungwoo, school, and all the little things in his life. But this—this feels different."

You smiled, your eyes sparkling with warmth. "I think it’s nice, don’t you? A change of pace. We get to talk about something other than lesson plans and school activities."

He chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. "Definitely. I’ve spent so much of my life focused on work and responsibilities, that I forget that there are moments like these that actually make life feel… complete. Like this. With you."

Your smile softened at your words, and you tucked a strand of hair behind you ear. "I understand what you mean. Teaching is a big part of my life, but there’s also more to it, more to me. Sometimes it’s nice to step away from the classroom and just be yourself for a moment."

Seungcheol nodded, his gaze lingering on you. He hadn’t realized until now just how much he longed for these quieter moments—the ones that weren’t filled with the buzz of the corporate world. He was used to being the one in charge, the one who always had to make decisions, led meetings, and set the pace. But with you, there was a kind of tranquility, a balance that he hadn’t known he needed.

As you talked, the conversation flowed easily. You shared stories about your childhoods, your favorite books, and even silly things like the kinds of music you liked. Your laughter was infectious, and he found himself opening up in a way he rarely did with anyone. There was a lightness to the way you spoke, a genuine interest in everything he had to say, and it made him feel like he was finally allowed to be more than just the CEO, more than just the father. For the first time in a long while, he felt… seen.

"I have to admit," you said, your smile turning playful, "I’ve always been curious about what it’s like to run a company. I mean, you’re so busy with meetings and traveling, right? How do you manage it all?"

Seungcheol leaned forward, intrigued by your question. "It’s not easy, but it’s all about balance. Finding time for the things that matter—work, yes, but also family. And now," he added, his eyes softening as they met yours, "I’m starting to think I need to make more time for things like this."

You blinked, your eyes wide as you took in his words. "Things like this?"

he hesitated for a moment before replying, his voice quieter now. "Things like… spending time with you. I know it’s unexpected, but I really enjoy these moments we’ve been sharing—getting to know you, and seeing the way you care for Seungwoo. It’s been… refreshing."

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his words, and you looked down for a moment, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "I didn’t expect that," you said, a bit shyly. "But I’m glad you feel that way. I think there’s something special about the time we’ve spent together too. You and Seungwoo have a warmth to you that’s hard to ignore."

Seungcheol smiled at your response, feeling a sudden surge of hope in his chest. This wasn’t just a fleeting moment, he realized. There was something genuine here—something that he wanted to explore further.

The coffee date continued into the evening, the conversation never running dry. You talked about everything and nothing, the kind of easy companionship that made time seem to stand still. By the time you finished your drinks, you both knew one thing for certain: you wanted more of this.

As he stood up to leave, he took a step closer to you. "I’m really glad we did this," he said, his voice sincere. "And, um… if you’re free again sometime, maybe we could do it again?"

You smiled warmly, your eyes lighting up at his words. "I’d love that."

His heart raced at the thought, but there was a calmness to it now, a certainty. He had known, even before he asked, that this was just the beginning of something. The connection between you two was undeniable, and he was more than ready to explore it.

"How about next weekend?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Next weekend sounds perfect," you replied with a smile that made his chest swell with warmth.

As you walked out of the café together, side by side, he felt like something had shifted, not just in the world around him, but within himself. Maybe it was because of the way you made him feel—like he was more than just a CEO, more than just a father. Maybe it was the quiet moments, like the ones you shared over coffee, that made him realize how much you had been missing.

And as you parted ways that night, a promise unspoken hung in the air– that this was only the beginning.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated! › anonymous review form

honestly inspired by real life.. somehow, i'm just obsessed with one of the little one where i teach - he so adorable

@ credits┆big thanks to @tusswrites for beta & proof reading, one of my much needed grammar saviours ☆彡

❀ a/n┆ finally on vacations - happy holidays everyone

☘︎ taglist: @zozojella

‧₊ ᵎᵎ “CHERRY.zip"🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

[judebellswife]

First Glimpse - Jude Bellingham

— REQUEST status OPEN

— pairing • jude bellingham x fem!reader

— summary • In Jude Bellingham’s much-anticipated documentary series, fans are given an intimate look into the football star’s life, with a special feature introducing his long-time girlfriend—you. Known for keeping a low profile despite dating one of football’s brightest stars, this marks your first public appearance. During a heartwarming interview, you open up about how you and Jude met, even though you already knew who he was, and how you never expected to become his girlfriend. The episode includes candid moments with Jude’s family, particularly his parents and younger brother, Jobe, with a special Thanksgiving Eve gathering where you all share laughter, love, and togetherness. Through your eyes, fans get to see a more personal side of Jude and his close-knit family.

— warnings • none :)

— note • i’ve got like 7-8 request about to write a one-shot with reader featuring in one of jude’s document series. so here it is, i hope you enjoy, happy reading!!

The camera focuses in on a familiar setting for those who follow Jude Bellingham’s career: the cozy, welcoming living room of the Bellingham family home. The walls are adorned with family photos, mementos from Jude’s rise in football, and hints of his personality—trophies and framed jerseys alongside warm family portraits.

But today, the focus is on you. You sit on the sofa, the soft cushions surrounding you as the camera captures your slight nervousness. A small, warm smile crosses your face, and you shift in your seat, unused to the spotlight.

A voice from behind the camera breaks the silence. The interviewer. “So, this is your first time on camera. How are you feeling?”

You chuckle, glancing off-screen for a moment as if looking for support before turning back. “Yeah, it’s definitely new for me. I’m more of a private person, so this is... different, but I’m excited to be part of this.”

There’s an understanding laugh from the interviewer. “For everyone watching, could you introduce yourself?”

You nod and give a small wave. “Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m Jude’s girlfriend, and, um... yeah, I’m usually not in front of the camera, so this is a bit out of my comfort zone,” you say, your voice laced with both nerves and humor.

The interviewer continues smoothly, keeping the tone light. “So, let’s jump into the good stuff. How did you and Jude meet?”

You pause for a moment, your eyes softening as you think back to the day. “Well, I actually knew who Jude was,” you begin with a smile. “I mean, he’s Jude Bellingham. Anyone who follows football knows who he is. But I never imagined I’d actually end up dating him. That wasn’t even on my radar.”

The camera cuts to a shot of Jude laughing in an earlier part of the documentary, as if he’s recounting the same story, though from his perspective. His grin is wide, and there’s a glint in his eyes that shows how much he enjoys this memory.

You continue, your voice a little more relaxed now as you find your rhythm. “We met through mutual friends at a small gathering. I’d seen him play on TV and heard about him through the grapevine, but when we met in person, he was just... Jude. Not the football star. Just this really laid-back, funny guy.”

“So, did you know right away that you liked him?” the interviewer asks, intrigued.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not at all. I was definitely attracted to him—he’s handsome, obviously—but I didn’t expect anything more than just a friendly conversation that night. I thought it’d be a ‘Hey, nice to meet you,’ and that’d be it.”

There’s a brief pause, and the interviewer presses gently. “So what changed?”

You smile, eyes twinkling with the memory. “Jude changed. We ended up talking the whole night. It was so easy with him, and I realized he wasn’t just this football prodigy everyone sees on the pitch. He’s so much more. Kind, funny, and really grounded. But it was his persistence that surprised me the most. After that night, he didn’t just let it end there. He reached out, wanted to spend time with me, and honestly? I couldn’t resist his charm.”

The camera switches to a series of candid clips, showing you and Jude out and about—him pulling faces to make you laugh, you playfully pushing him away before being pulled into a hug. It’s the kind of chemistry that makes it clear this relationship runs deep, full of mutual adoration and comfort.

“So, how long have you two been together now?” the interviewer asks off-screen.

You think for a second, tilting your head slightly as you calculate. “A little over two years now. Time flies, honestly. It’s been an incredible ride.”

“And what’s it been like, dating someone as high-profile as Jude?”

You take a deep breath, nodding. “It’s definitely been an adjustment. At first, it was a bit overwhelming, especially with how much attention he gets. But we had a conversation early on about keeping our relationship private, at least until we were ready. Jude’s been really protective of that—he’s always made sure I feel comfortable, and I love that about him. But I also understand that he’s a public figure, and being with him means that sometimes, I’ll be seen too. This,” you gesture around at the cameras, “is one of those times.”

The camera cuts to another moment—this time, Jude and you are walking through a park, your hands loosely clasped together. He swings your arm playfully, then stops to pull you into his side, whispering something in your ear that makes you laugh. It’s easy, intimate, and full of warmth.

“Speaking of being seen,” the interviewer continues, “how does it feel to finally share a bit of your relationship with the world?”

You laugh softly. “It’s exciting, I guess. People have always been curious, but I’ve been pretty firm about staying out of the spotlight. I’m not someone who thrives on attention like Jude does. But it’s nice to be able to show this part of his life. People know him as the footballer, but they don’t really see the person behind all of that. I’m happy to share a little bit of what we have, because it’s special.”

The camera pans across the Bellingham household, warm and inviting with the sounds of family chatter filling the air. Thanksgiving Eve at the Bellingham’s is a full house. Jude’s dad, Mark, is in the living room, laughing loudly with Jobe and Jude as they discuss football, while his mom, Denise, is in the kitchen, bustling about as she prepares the family meal.

The lens of the camera focuses on you for a moment. You’re helping Denise chop vegetables, your hands moving a little slower than hers but with focus, and you share a comfortable conversation. A nervous laugh escapes you as you attempt to cut the vegetables to her standard.

“Are you sure I’m doing this right?” you ask, holding up an unevenly chopped carrot with a teasing smile. “It doesn’t look quite like yours.”

Denise glances over and laughs softly, reaching out to gently touch your arm in reassurance. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re doing just fine,” she says, her voice full of warmth. “Trust me, my first Thanksgiving wasn’t perfect either. And honestly, even if it’s a bit wonky, it’s still going to taste amazing.”

Her words, her tone—there’s something deeply maternal in the way Denise speaks to you. It’s as if you’re already a part of the family, not just Jude’s girlfriend, but someone she holds close to her heart. You smile at her gratefully, feeling that familiar warmth whenever you’re around her.

Denise’s attention turns fully to you now, setting down her wooden spoon and wiping her hands on a towel before stepping closer. “You know,” she begins, her voice soft and kind, “I’ve always thought of you like a daughter. You’re such a big part of Jude’s life, but you’ve also become such an important part of ours too.”

You look at her, slightly taken aback by the depth of her words. Your heart swells in your chest, not expecting the surge of emotion. “That means the world to me, Denise,” you say, your voice quiet but sincere. “I’ve always felt so welcomed here. You and Mark, and even Jobe—you’ve all made me feel like part of the family from day one.”

Denise steps forward, enveloping you in a gentle but tight hug, the kind that only a mother could give. “That’s because you are family,” she whispers against your shoulder. “We love you like one of our own.”

You close your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to sink into her embrace, feeling a wave of comfort wash over you. In this family, you’ve found something special—something you didn’t expect to have when you first started dating Jude. It’s not just a relationship with him; it’s a bond with the people who raised him, who made him the person you love so deeply.

As you pull away, Denise gives you a warm smile, her eyes soft with affection. “Jude’s a lucky man,” she says, glancing toward the living room where Jude is seated. “But then again, I think we’re all lucky to have you around.”

You chuckle softly, still holding onto the warm feeling in your chest. “I’m the lucky one. Jude’s incredible, and you’ve all been nothing but wonderful.”

Denise’s eyes twinkle as she leans in conspiratorially. “He’s a handful sometimes, though, isn’t he?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “Oh, definitely. But I love him all the more for it.”

Denise shakes her head, her smile growing wider. “Good, because he needs someone like you to keep him in check.”

There’s a shared understanding between the two of you, the kind that goes beyond words. Denise pats your hand and returns to stirring the pot, the air between you filled with warmth and affection. It’s a small moment, but one that fills your heart, making you realize just how deeply connected you’ve become to Jude’s family.

The scene transitions to the dining room, where the entire family is gathered around the table. Mark is telling a story, his booming laugh punctuating the conversation as Jobe makes a playful remark. Jude sits beside you, his arm draped over the back of your chair, his fingers occasionally brushing against your shoulder as he smiles and laughs along with his family.

“Jobe, pass the bread,” Jude says, reaching across the table with a grin.

Jobe rolls his eyes dramatically but tosses the basket of bread to his brother. “There you go, Mr. Superstar.”

You nudge Jude with your elbow as he catches the bread. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t start charging for autographs at family dinners.”

Jude grins, leaning in closer to you. “Oh, I’d give you an autograph for free,” he teases, his voice low and playful.

You roll your eyes but smile, and as Jude reaches for his plate, Denise catches your eye from across the table. She gives you a wink, as if to say, See what I mean? A handful.

The love and ease that fills the room is palpable. You can’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. This family has welcomed you, loved you, and made you one of their own, and tonight is a perfect reflection of that.

The camera lingers on the scene—Jude’s hand resting on your shoulder, Denise watching her sons with pride, and you laughing along with them, fully immersed in the warmth of their family dynamic.

As the evening winds down, and dessert is served, Jude’s dad, Mark, stands up, raising a glass. “I think we all know what I’m about to say,” he begins with a grin. “But this Thanksgiving, I just want to take a moment to say how grateful we all are. Grateful for family, for good health, and, of course, for the wonderful woman who’s come into our lives and made our son the happiest he’s ever been.”

You blink, taken aback by the sudden toast, your eyes glancing around the table. Denise smiles warmly at you, her eyes filled with affection, and Jude leans closer, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze under the table.

“To Y/N,” Mark says, raising his glass higher. “Welcome to the family. Officially.”

There’s a soft murmur of agreement as everyone raises their glasses, and you feel your throat tighten with emotion. It’s not just words—it’s a promise. A declaration that you belong here, with them.

As everyone takes a sip, Jude leans in and presses a kiss to your temple, whispering, “I told you they love you.”

You turn to him, your heart full. “And I love them.”

The camera captures the final moments of the evening—the plates scattered with crumbs, the soft murmur of conversation as everyone winds down, and the love that fills the room. The bond between you and Jude has always been special, but tonight, it’s clear that your relationship extends beyond just the two of you. You’ve found a home with his family, and they’ve found a place in your heart.

As the screen fades to black, the soft hum of background music plays, leaving the viewers with a sense of warmth and love, the credits rolling as the final glimpse of your story is shared with the world.

[rockislandadultreads]

Warm Up With a Good Book: More Heartwarming Story Recommendations

The Boardwalk Bookshop by Susan Mallery

When fate brings three strangers to a charming space for lease on the California coast, the Boardwalk Bookshop is born. Part bookstore, part gift shop, part bakery, it's a dream come true for Bree, Mikki and Ashley. But while their business is thriving, their personal lives are...not.

Bree, wounded by brilliant but cold parents and her late husband's ultimate betrayal, has sworn to protect her heart at all costs. Even from Ashley's brother, a writer and adventurer who has inspired millions. He's the first man to see past Bree's barricades to her true self, which terrifies her. Mikki has this divorce thing all figured out - somehow, she's stayed friends with her ex and her in-laws... until a new man changes how everyone looks at her, and how she sees herself. Meanwhile, Ashley discovers that the love of her life never intends to marry. Can she live without being a wife if it means she can have everything else she's ever wanted?

At sunset every Friday on the beach in front of the Boardwalk Bookshop, the three friends share a champagne toast. As their bond grows closer, they challenge one another to become the best versions of themselves in this heartachingly beautiful story of friendship, sisterhood and the transformative power of love.

A Dog’s Way Home by W. Bruce Cameron 

Lucas Ray is shocked when an adorable puppy jumps out of an abandoned building and into his arms. Though the apartment he shares with his mother, a disabled veteran, doesn't allow dogs, Lucas can't resist taking Bella home.

Bella is inexplicably drawn to Lucas, even if she doesn't understand the necessity of games like No Barks. As it becomes more difficult to hide her from the neighbors, Lucas begins to sneak Bella into the VA where he works. There, Bella brings joy and comfort where it is needed most.

After Bella is picked up by Animal Control because pit bulls are banned in Denver, Lucas has no choice but to send her to a foster home until he can figure out what to do. But Bella, distraught at the separation, doesn't plan to wait. With four hundred miles of dangerous Colorado wilderness between her and her person, Bella sets off on a seemingly impossible and completely unforgettable adventure home.

This is the first volume in the “A Dog’s Way Home” series. 

The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto by Mitch Albom

This is the epic story of Frankie Presto - the greatest guitar player who ever lived - and the six lives he changed with his six magical blue strings.

Frankie, born in a burning church, abandoned as an infant, and raised by a music teacher in a small Spanish town, until war rips his life apart. At nine years old, he is sent to America in the bottom of a boat. His only possession is an old guitar and six precious strings. His amazing journey weaves him through the musical landscape of the 1940s, ’50s and ’60s, with his stunning playing and singing talent affecting numerous stars (Duke Ellington, Hank Williams, Elvis Presley) until, as if predestined, he becomes a pop star himself.

He makes records. He is adored. But Frankie Presto’s gift is also his burden, as he realizes the power of the strings his teacher gave him, and how, through his music, he can actually affect people’s lives. At the height of his popularity, tortured by his biggest mistake, he vanishes. His legend grows. Only decades later, having finally healed his heart, does Frankie reappear just before his spectacular death - to change one last life. With the Spirit of Music as our guide, we glimpse into the lives that were changed by one man whose strings could touch the music - and the magic - in each of us.

Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt

After Tova Sullivan's husband died, she began working the night shift at the Sowell Bay Aquarium, mopping floors and tidying up. Keeping busy has always helped her cope, which she's been doing since her eighteen-year-old son, Erik, mysteriously vanished on a boat in Puget Sound over thirty years ago.

Tova becomes acquainted with curmudgeonly Marcellus, a giant Pacific octopus living at the aquarium. Marcellus knows more than anyone can imagine but wouldn't dream of lifting one of his eight arms for his human captors - until he forms a remarkable friendship with Tova.

Ever the detective, Marcellus deduces what happened the night Tova's son disappeared. And now Marcellus must use every trick his old invertebrate body can muster to unearth the truth for her before it's too late.

The Good Neighbor by Maxwell King 

Fred Rogers (1928–2003) was an enormously influential figure in the history of television and in the lives of tens of millions of children. As the creator and star of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, he was a champion of compassion, equality, and kindness. Rogers was fiercely devoted to children and to taking their fears, concerns, and questions about the world seriously.

The Good Neighbor, the first full-length biography of Fred Rogers, tells the story of this utterly unique and enduring American icon. Drawing on original interviews, oral histories, and archival documents, Maxwell King traces Rogers’s personal, professional, and artistic life through decades of work, including a surprising decision to walk away from the show to make television for adults, only to return to the neighborhood with increasingly sophisticated episodes, written in collaboration with experts on childhood development. An engaging story, rich in detail, The Good Neighbor is the definitive portrait of a beloved figure, cherished by multiple generations.

[holylulusworld]

Not alone any longer

Summary: You try to believe in your blooming friendship with Clark.

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, loner reader, introvert reader, flirty Clark, low self-esteem, fluff, Lois bashing, Lois is the worst, destruction of a car

Catch up here: Alone again - Naturally

“Clark, you came,” you gasp as Clark stands in front of your home. He’s got a bouquet of daisies in his hands, offering them to you. “I mean, you’re early.”

“We have a date,” he half-laughs. “You remember we wanted to go on a date.” Clark nervously looks at you. “Did you change your mind?”

“No!” You hastily say. “I didn’t change my mind. It’s just…uh… I didn’t know what to wear.” You drop your gaze. “It’s been a while since someone asked me out. I didn’t know where we were going and tried on so many outfits that I forgot about the time.”

Clark flashes you a soft smile. He seems almost shy when you take the flowers out of his hand, and invite him in.

While you look for a vase, Clark looks around your small apartment. It’s nice, cozy and inviting. You’ve got fluffy pillows on our couch, and lots of plushies keeping you company while you try to write.

“I read one of your articles. Uh-the one about the missing cat, and how the owner did everything to find them. It was heartwarming how you described their reunion.”

You awkwardly look down at your shoes. Embarrassed about your meaningless article, you sigh deeply. “You shouldn’t have read that crap. No one does read it.”

“I liked it very much, Y/N,” Clark softly says your name, making you feel warm. You can see the honesty in his eyes when you finally look at him. “You’ve got talent, Blossom. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You shrug. “I’ll never win a Pulitzer Prize, or be as famous as Lois,” you sniffle. “She’s a star, and I’m the dirt under her shoes. Let’s be honest. Out of all the people I know, I’m the loser among them.”

“Y/N, that’s not true!”

You raise your hand and shake your head. “It’s okay, Clark. Why do you think none of my so-called friends stayed in touch?” You wipe your eyes. “Lois only invites me to rub her success and fame in my face. She didn’t even recognize that I left the party. If not for you, I’d be dead, and she wouldn’t even care. No one does.”

“I care,” Clark steps closer to grab your hand. “Not only because I saved you, Y/N. Before, during the party, you caught my eye. You looked as lost as I felt. I sometimes don’t know why I live here, among people who’ll never understand the burden of my powers and origin.”

“Oh, Clark.” You suddenly wrap your arms around him to comfort Clark. The strongest and bravest person you ever met. Running your hands up and down his back, you murmur his name. “I babble about my unimportant life and ignore that you must be struggling too. Hiding your true nature must be exhausting.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around you. Clark holds you close to his warm chest, feeling his heart beat a little faster. He hasn’t felt a connection with a person for a long time.

“It’s easier now that I got someone important in my life,” he whispers against you. Clark buries his face in your neck and sighs.

“Oh, who’s that? Did you meet someone nice?” You innocently ask, dipping your head to look up at Clark. “I hope they are nice.”

“Blossom, I meant you,” he smiles and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You know about my secret for weeks, and didn’t try to take advantage of it.”

“Why would I? You’re a hero, and it’s an honor to know about your secret identity,” you shyly glance up at Clark. “Even though, flying still scares me.”

“I promise to fly carefully with you in my arms.” He smiles when you shy away. You didn’t think Clark wanted to see again, let alone, fly with you again. “I’ll not drop you.”

You giggle when he tells you. “What if you sneeze, and I slip out of your hands? I’ll end up as a pancake on the ground.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Not the red you saw in pictures or videos on the news. No. Worry, fear even. “I never get sick.”

“You never get sick?” You wonder aloud. “Oh, that’s good. I think. I mean, you’re from another world. Makes sense that our diseases can’t harm you.”

“Sometimes I wish that I was a normal guy, with normal problems and a normal life. No one would believe that Superman lies awake at night, dreaming of losing his powers.”

“You do?” you whimper. “I didn’t know you were lonely and sad too.” You hide your face in his chest. “But we are friends now. So, you’re not alone anymore.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “We are friends now…”

“Lois, what’s wrong?” You gasp watching your friend storm into your home. She huffs and throws her locks back while brushing past you. Lois looks around your living room, sneering as her eyes land on the daises Clark got for you.

“You know exactly what’s wrong,” she twirls around to glare at you. “Your life must be extremely shitty if you must go out with my boyfriend!”

“Your boyfriend?” You frown deeply. “I thought you’re single. And I don’t know who you are talking about.”

“Clark Kent!” She spats. “You had to date my boyfriend, didn’t you? Just you know, he only feels sorry for you. Pathetic little Y/N, always so lonely and sad, standing in the corner to lure sweet Clark in.”

“He’s not your boyfriend,” you’re getting angry. “You broke up with him over a year ago. And, when he talked to me, I didn’t even know he was your ex. What Clark and I do is none of your business. We are friends and like spending time together!”

Lois wrinkles her nose at the word friends. “Does he know you’re a frigid, emotionally disabled and whiny little bitch? I guess not.”

She raises her hand to slap your face. You flinch and prepare for the impact when something outside your window explodes. Dropping to the ground, you press your hands to your ear as Lois screams in terror. She needs a moment before running toward your balcony.

Ever the investigative journalist, she steps onto your balcony to look down at the sidewalk to see her car got destroyed. It seems like it got cut into two halves. “No, what…” She shakes her head. Lois knows there’s only one person in this world able to cut her car into two halves within the blink of his eyes. “Why would he do this?”

Superman floats high above the sky, unseen. Watching Lois yell at you, he got angry. Even more, when she raised her hand against you, he couldn’t hurt her, so he did the next best thing. Clark sent a warning to her.

“You destroyed her car,” you glance down at the people in the streets. They look like ants as you float above the city. “Why?”

“She wanted to hurt you,” Clark holds you safe in his arms as you cling to him. You’re still scared of flying around with him, but he asked you to come with him so sweetly, you couldn’t deny him. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I got so mad and… I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

“I’d smashed her car too if I had any powers,” you give him a cracked smile. “She was vile and mean without a reason. Lois only got mad because we are friends now. She is like a kid wanting her toy back after she threw it away.”

“I’m a toy?” He looks at you in his arms.

“No…that’s not…” you sigh. “I didn’t mean it that way. She’s just…”

“I know, Blossom.” Clark presses his lips to your forehead. “What she said was mean. I couldn’t let her hurt you even more.”

“She’s not wrong,” you sniff. “I’m not good with dates and such. Men usually run for the hills after one date because I get nervous and anxious easily.”

“Y/N, I like you the way you are,” he whispers. Clark dips his head to press a soft kiss on your lips—a short and sweet one to test the waters. You giggle as your cheeks heat up. “I like you a lot, Blossom.”

“I like you a lot too, Clarkie,” you smile at Clark, feeling your heart flutter. “Can you…” You giggle, “Kiss me again?”

You don’t have to ask twice. Clark kisses you again, soft and sweet, while you float about the city. You forget about Lois and the rest of the world. It’s just you and Clark, and that is enough…

Part 3 - FIN

Tags in reblog.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Family breakfast

Hii guyss, here's a new one-shot about Toto. If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist :)

A quiet morning turns into delightful chaos when you discover your husband and son’s surprise gone awry. This leads to a heartwarming family moment filled with laughter and love.

The first thing you notice as you wake is the stillness. Normally, the house would already be alive with the sounds of your son, Jack, running down the hallway, his little feet pounding against the floor. The absence of that familiar noise pulls you from your dreams. And then it hits you: Toto isn’t beside you either. He always stays a little longer in the mornings, kissing your forehead softly before slipping out of bed. But today, nothing.

You sit up, pushing the blankets aside as you glance at the empty spot beside you, feeling a small pang of curiosity. Throwing on a cozy sweater, you pad down the hallway toward the faint smell of… something. It’s not exactly appetizing, but it is familiar. There’s flour in the air, a hint of chocolate, and unmistakably… burnt something.

Rounding the corner, you arrive at the kitchen doorway and pause, stifling a laugh at the scene in front of you. The kitchen is in absolute disarray: flour streaks cover the countertops, bits of batter have splattered on the walls, and your husband and son are standing there, Jack on his stool next to Toto, both looking down at what appears to be a very charred attempt at pancakes.

They’re completely unaware of you watching them, too focused on the burnt batch in front of them.

“Maybe if we put enough syrup on them, she won’t notice,” you hear Jack say in a serious tone, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he looks up at Toto. Toto raises a brow, giving him a playful smile. “You think that’ll work?”

“Well, it works when you make toast,” Jack whispers back, eyes glinting with the wisdom of his young mind.

You clear your throat, unable to hold back a chuckle any longer, and they both spin around, caught red-handed. Jack’s face lights up in that special way, a smile spreading wide across his cheeks as he shouts, “Mama! We were trying to surprise you!”

Toto laughs, raising his flour-covered hands in surrender. “Our plan may not have gone exactly as we hoped,” he admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Turns out we’re not quite as skilled as you when it comes to pancakes.”

You take a few steps forward, pretending to survey the kitchen with a critical eye, your gaze landing on the plate of charcoal-colored pancakes. “Well,” you say, folding your arms in mock seriousness, “it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Jack laughs, his pride undented as he stands tall on his stool. “I helped with the mixing, Mama! But the flipping is hard.”

Toto nods, pretending to look solemn. “It really is harder than it looks. I think we’re going to need some expert intervention here.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, feigning skepticism. “Do you think you two can handle working as my assistants?”

Jack nods so vigorously his little curls bounce. “Yes, yes! I’ll mix it all again!”

You smile, grabbing an apron for yourself and tying it around your waist before stepping forward, guiding them both in their roles. Jack is in charge of mixing the batter again, but this time, you make sure to guide him a little more closely. His giggles are infectious as he watches the lumps disappear, proudly showing you his work. Toto tries to take charge of flipping once more, insisting he’s got it this time, only for a pancake to land halfway on the counter, sending Jack into fits of laughter.

Eventually, after much laughter and a few (successful) pancake flips, you plate the perfect stack, golden and warm. You bring it to the table, setting out butter and syrup while Jack bounces over to his spot, already piling syrup on his stack.

You all sit down together, and Jack digs in immediately, a trail of syrup dribbling down his chin as he takes his first big bite. Toto gives your hand a gentle squeeze under the table, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as he leans close, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I think next time, we’ll let you be the head chef from the start.”

“Or maybe,” you tease, glancing at the two of them, “we keep it a team effort. But maybe a slightly less… chaotic team effort?”

Jack, overhearing, looks up with a big grin. “Family team!” he declares proudly, raising his fork in a sticky salute. You and Toto laugh, clinking your forks with his in agreement.

The three of you linger over breakfast, taking your time with each bite, sharing stories and laughter as the sun streams softly through the kitchen windows. There’s something magical about this moment, the simplicity of syrup-sticky hands and flour-dusted counters. Sitting here with Jack’s joyful giggles and Toto’s quiet warmth beside you, you can’t help but feel a deep, overflowing gratitude for mornings like this—messy, beautiful, and shared with the two people who mean everything to you.

[imreidswifey]

Little Things That Matter -Fluff-

Summary: Sometimes, love isn’t about grand gestures or dramatic declarations—it’s found in the quiet, meaningful moments that leave a lasting impact. In this collection of mini-stories, you fall for Dr. Spencer Reid, the brilliant but socially awkward profiler from the BAU, through the small, thoughtful things he does: letting you take the last seat on a crowded train, cooking your favorite meal, planning a cozy picnic, and soothing your stress with his gentle touch. Each moment shows his kindness, intelligence, and quiet charm, proving that love truly is in the details.

A/N: This is 4 mini stories so get comfy and enjoy! Please request any ideas or prompts!! I NEED MORE IDEAS

Warnings:

Mild references to stress: Includes brief mentions of workplace frustrations and emotional tension.

Fluff and sweetness overload: This story contains heartwarming, tender moments that might leave you smiling uncontrollably.

Second-person POV: Written from your perspective to immerse you in the story.

———————————————————————————

1. Letting You Sit in Your Seat

You’re flustered as you board the crowded train, scanning the car for an empty seat. To your relief, you spot one near the window. But just as you make your way over, a lanky man with tousled hair and a book in hand reaches it at the same time.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you stammer, stepping back instinctively.

He looks up, startled, his hazel eyes wide behind his glasses. “No, no—please, you take it,” he insists, clutching his book closer to his chest. “I can stand. I, uh, actually find it easier to balance this way when the train moves.”

His awkward smile and the way he fidgets with the corner of his book make you hesitate, but the sincerity in his tone convinces you. You sit down, thanking him, and watch as he moves to stand nearby, gripping a pole while immersing himself in his reading.

Every so often, you catch him glancing your way, as if to make sure you’re comfortable. When you get off at your stop, you thank him again, and he offers you a shy smile. It’s such a small gesture, but the way he put your comfort above his own lingers in your mind for days.

———————————————————————————

2. Making Food for Each Other as a Surprise

You’re not sure how it started—a casual conversation about favorite foods, maybe—but one evening, you find yourself baking cookies with the sole purpose of surprising Spencer. You know he has a sweet tooth, and the thought of his expression when he tastes them fills you with anticipation.

When you show up at his apartment, he’s startled but pleased to see you. “I was just about to call you,” he admits, stepping aside to let you in.

You set the cookies on the counter, only to notice the table is already set with two plates of spaghetti carbonara.

“Wait, did you… make dinner?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, you mentioned you liked it once, and I thought I’d try. I wasn’t sure if I got the proportions right, though. Math is easy; cooking is… not.”

You laugh and hold up your cookies. “Looks like we both had the same idea.”

Dinner turns into an evening of laughter, compliments, and an unspoken understanding that you’re starting to mean more to each other than you realized.

———————————————————————————

3. Picnic Date

It’s his idea, but you can tell he’s nervous about it. The picnic is meticulously planned: a cozy blanket spread out in the park, a wicker basket filled with sandwiches, fruit, and thermoses of tea.

“I, um, wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I brought a little of everything,” he says, gesturing to the assortment.

You smile as you sit down beside him, touched by the effort. “It’s perfect.”

He relaxes a little as you both eat, the conversation flowing easily. He tells you random facts about the park’s history and the migratory patterns of birds overhead, his eyes lighting up as he talks. You don’t mind—his enthusiasm is contagious.

When a gust of wind blows his hair into his face, you reach over without thinking, brushing it back. He freezes for a second, then smiles shyly.

By the time the sun sets, you’re lying side by side, staring at the sky, and you realize you’re completely smitten with this quirky, brilliant man.

———————————————————————————

4. Giving You a Head Massage While You Talk

You’re sprawled on Spencer’s couch, recounting your day while he sits behind you. His fingers, long and graceful, work gently through your hair, rubbing circles into your scalp.

“I just don’t understand why she keeps undermining me in meetings,” you vent, leaning into his touch.

“Maybe she feels threatened,” he says softly, his voice thoughtful. “Sometimes people react that way when they see someone else excelling.”

You pause, considering his words. “That… actually makes sense. Thank you.”

He hums in response, his hands never faltering. The tension in your shoulders melts away under his careful attention, and you find yourself smiling despite the frustrations of the day.

“I didn’t know you were this good at massages,” you tease, glancing back at him.

His cheeks turn pink, but he grins. “It’s all about applying even pressure in the right places. There’s actually a study that shows…”

He trails off when he sees you laughing. “Sorry. I, uh, tend to ramble.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s one of the reasons I like you.”

The way his eyes light up at your words makes your heart skip a beat.

[chasingthatjjunie]

(っ◔◡◔)っ 🩷 𝙢𝙮 𝙩𝙭𝙩 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙨 🩷

here are a few of my favorite fics that have made me laugh, cry, smile, scream, and probably feel every other emotion possible!

i'll keep adding to this list as i read. if you have any fics to recommend, i’d be so happy to read them!

𝗼𝘁𝟱 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗹𝗲𝘀:

SILENT TREATMENT W/ TXT ~ @miupow 

GETTING STONED W/ TXT ~ @miupow

"Let's break up" prank ~ @skiiyoomin

Little things they do to make you needy ~ @taegimood

squish ~ @huckleberrykai (healed me 🫶🏽)

there's food at home ~ @huckleberrykai

let's dance the night away ~ @huckleberrykai

crush crush crush ~ @huckleberrykai

txt as types of office romance! ~ @itgirlgyu

txt as dilfs! ~ @itgirlgyu

txt as husbands! ~ @itgirlgyu

grocery store runs together ~ @thoughtsforsoob

txt meeting their long distance partner for the first time ~ @mazeinthemoon

𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗶 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗻:

ALL FOR A BET ~ @jjunieworld ("everytime i'm away from you my soul calls out to yours and everytime i'm with you it sings from how complete it is" has to be one of the most beautiful things ive ever read)

saudade love ~ @kumabeom

the great bake off ~ @jjunieworld

ALIBI ~ @bunniwords

vanilla&citrus / coffe&lavender ~ @blue-jisungs

kissed and missed ~ @seoulzie

actirasty with soobin ~ @beomiracles

spit ~ @silvergyus

9:26pm ~ @silvergyus

to the moon and back ~ @p0ckykiss

office hours ~ @hyukalyptus (had me throw my phone across the room and start pacing!!! i literally could not put this down!)

𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗶 𝘆𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗻:

mango flavored ~ @biteyoubiteme (i think about this fic literally all the time)

crown radio. ~ @mazeinthemoon

9:05 p.m. ~ @agustdiv1ne

9:23 p.m. ~ @agustdiv1ne (um yes please...)

aquarium date with yeonjun ~ @blackhairedjjun

bed chem ~ @moamidzyism

THE UNDERGROUND ˒˒ 최연준 ~ @jjunieworld

girl dad yeonjun headcanons ~ @miupow

written in the stars ~ @blossom-hwa

shoong! ~ @beomie3

i wish i was a baller ~ @delcakoo

thoughts on food truck chef!yeonjun x office worker!reader ~ @blackhairedjjun

gold rush ~ @wave2tyun

you're not afraid of heights are you? ~ @beomiracles

flustering bestfriend!yeonjun ~ @taegimood

[bratty switch!yeonjun] ~ @heartchoi

lost ~ @huckleberrykai (one of the most heartwarming fics ive ever read!!! melted my stress away IM NOT EVEN JOKING)

found (part 2 of lost) ~ @huckleberrykai

i did something bad ~ @huckleberrykai (mafia yeonjun has me going brrrr)

a bouquet of flower ~ @p0ckykiss (this is the sweetest freaking thing ever!!!)

sucking on yeonjun's chain during sex ~ @taegimood

yeonjun w dumbification + spit kinks ~ @taegimood

emo yeonjun putting you on! ~ @hyukakisses

ditched and delirious ~ @seoulzie

just a little tipsy! ~ @aakomii-deactivated20240310 (ive read this just about a million times)

craving you ~ @miupow

Sir;; CYJ ~ @kpoptrashlord-007

REAL WITH YOU ~ @izzyy-stuff (literally all of my fantasies come true!)

𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗶 𝗯𝗲𝗼𝗺𝗴𝘆𝘂:

Stupid Cupid ~ @hybeboyenthusisast

an iron man ~ @niningtori

the final argument ~ @seoulzie

five kisses ~ @miupow (so so beomgyu!! <3)

totally unlabeled kisses ~ @heart2beom (the kisses at the end!!)

𝗸𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗮𝗲𝗵𝘆𝘂𝗻:

STRANDED ~ @beomiracles

guard (of my heart) ~ @blue-jisungs (“mine are on you only. and, well, the sea in case anyone needs saving”, THIS IS SO CUTE!)

pin me ~ @biteyoubiteme

𝗵𝘂𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗮𝗶:

straight a students ~ @silvergyus

daydreams & doodles ~ @seoulzie

𝗺𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗶-𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿𝘀:

movie date ~ @biteyoubiteme (yeonjun and kai)

11:58 p.m. ~ @agustdiv1ne (yeonjun and taehyun)

busy signal ~ @biteyoubiteme (yeonjun and kai)

cozy holiday ~ @biteyoubiteme (yeonjun and kai)

[toto-the-cactus]

Hey Toto.

I discovered your headcanon with the primarchs as girl dad and gotta say, it breaths life into me to read. But it made me curious and wonder if you would do something similar, but with the legions? How they will act around the child and if there would be any heartwarming moments between the daughters and their brothers? To be honest I would die if you did that.

Cheers ^^

You ask and you shall receive, my good dude

-°-

Dark Angels

These people, in the general sense, are the very definition of strict discipline and unmoving soul. I don’t see these astartes being that incredibly cozy with the daughter of their Primarch and any ideas of that kind of interaction would even be perceived as a disrespect towards the demigod himself. This is more of a professional correlation tbf so I don’t even see the little girl of Lion associating the astartes as big brothers.

Emperor’s Children

To this bunch, the daughter of their estimated Primarch is nothing short of a fascination. Sure, they regard her with the same respect as they do with Fulgrim, but there’s also the amusement that comes when you see a child being both adorable and innocent. They entertain her when she wishes to spend time with someone while at the same time standing protectively around her. There’s no such thing as “big brothers” with them, but I can see an amicable relationship… probably similar to the one you may have with a friendly teacher: all fun and games but still a distinctive line separating you both.

Iron Warriors

No… just no. This one is easily self-explanatory.

White Scars

There’s both mutual respect and friendship. Even as a small child, these astartes consider the daughter of the great Khan as someone that deserves respect and guidance, but they are understandably aware that they aren’t any parent of the little girl to go around bossing or cozying her around, but if the sweet lady ask nicely if they wanna play with her, they wouldn’t hesitate to make a game into some sort of training for her since the Legion still feels like their Khan’s daughter needs to be prepared for anything to defend herself. While not ALL of the astartes may be perceived as big brothers, the closest to the Primarch probably can be considered close family.

Space Wolves

Now, we enter the real game. Like the others astartes, respect will be given to the daughter of Leman without question, but there's also that sense of camaraderie that extends too to the little pup. Roughhousing just like canines usually do to play with the younger ones is their best way to bond but imagine it with a huge astartes using a single hand with the fierce girl the same way you wrangle a cat’s head to play. Over all, they cherish the laughter of this sweet child and make sure to always be there to take care of her when their Primarch or the Mother aren’t able to (not like they would make it a habit, tho. No one should use the space marines as babysitters). I can see this precious girl calling a few of the astartes simply “Brothers” but mostly because she tries to imitate the Legion when they call each other.

Imperial Fists

We go back to square one with these guys. Just like the Dark Angels, you will not see any of these astartes being too familiar with the daughter of their Primarch. If anything, they simply KNOW that Dorn has a little girl born by his union with a baseline and accept her with the same loyal disposition they have to the demigod, but that’s it. One or two are ordered to guard the precious child? They will do it without question and limit it to just hovering close to the girl. They don’t engage in games unless Dorn or the Legion Mother tells them it's alright to do so. Overall, it's a professional sort of relationship despite the little girl always hearing the astartes refer to her papa as father too. Very confusing for her.

Night Lords

Hell to the no! They do know their Primarch has a daughter and THAT’S IT.

Blood Angels

It was kinda hard to think of a better explanation about the kind of familial relationship that existed between this astartes and the daughter of Sanguinius. The way I see it, this Legion has more of a devotee sort of disposition for the little lady just like with her father. If the precious child asks to play, the astartes will do so just because the idea of watching her pout and be sad about it makes their hearts wrench. Being called “big brother” by her is quite the honor since it means that you have been around guarding and accompanying the little girl so often that she recognizes you as family.

Iron Hands

These guys are… something indeed. Considering the kind of motto the tenth Legion possesses, I don’t think even Ferrus feels his daughter would be kindly received by his astartes just like it happened with his SO. It had been his past mentality of despising weakness that came back to bite him in the ass and now he can’t trust his gene-sons around his precious girl as she would be immediately rejected because of her baseline mother and overall weak appearance as a child. The only thing giving a single respite to everyone around is that these space marines have enough respect and loyalty to their Primarch that they wouldn’t dare to hurt or be mean to the little girl.

World Eaters

Louder for everyone in the background… HELL NO!!

Ultramarines

Probably the funniest reactions and acts out there when regarding the daughter of Roboute. They would act as if they forgot how babies/toddlers are supposed to be like DESPITE them having been children themselves at some point. The most common thing about them is that 1) they aren’t sure why their Primarch have debased himself to the most baseline act of them all: to have a child with a mere mortal too, to top it, and 2) what was the purpose to have a child if it wouldn’t be of an advantage to the Imperium. Don’t get it wrong, as time passes, they became more welcoming and cozy regarding the little girl, even feeling kind of excited when she starts to call them “big brothers” because that means that she recognizes them as family… just give them the chance and they will surprise you.

Death Guard

The stubborn little blorbos! So yeah, if we consider that eventually most of the Legion came from Barbarus after the coming of Mortarion, I can see them regarding the daughter of their Primarch with a certain amount of respect and amused curiosity. Children aren’t an unknown to them but the little girl is quite the opposite of the Primarch and watching her being all happy and cheery beside her intimidating father makes a contrast that would entertain anyone so I can see this Legion being similar (surprisingly!) to how the Emperor’s Children Legion treat the daughter of their Primarch too: They would protect her without question and still be amicable enough for the precious kid to regard them as her friends too.

Thousand Sons

If Magnus isn’t around, then you can bet that the astartes of this Legion will love to be around a kid who asks them about any fun fact they know. They find the daughter of their Primarch a delight to have around and quite adorable, not hesitating to entertain her while either her mother or father find her. Probably the easiest of the Legions that get called in a single breath “big brothers” by the precious princess of Prospero.

Luna Wolves

This one is a weird mix between the Ultramarines and the Thousand Sons: they are baffled and confused as to why their Primarch has stooped to such mortal acts like bedding a baseline human and be tied to her. Despite their reservations, once the little lady is born, all around thoughts change. Horus' daughter has the same charm of her father and knows how to wield it with these astartes, but since she also wishes to be a good daughter too, you won’t see her taking advantage of her position. If some of her “big brothers” aren’t too busy, she’ll ask nicely if they wish to play with her or to simply make her company at which they won’t deny her and do so gladly.

Word Bearers

Ho boy, these dudes are their own kind a'ight. They cherish and celebrate the daughter of Lorgar as a miracle that must be adored. Similar to the Blood Angels, I see these fun fellas being more like devotees to the image they think this little girl represents so, rather than being perceived as “big brothers”, they are more like those guards that follow the precious princess around whenever her parents aren’t around. If they engage in any game with this child, they accept mostly out of duty than actually wishing to make her happy.

Salamanders

These boys are the excellency among them all! They are the most humane among the rest of the Legions and show it by being the best “big brothers” all around. Vulkan would encourage both his astartes and his child to regard each other as siblings, so it isn’t hard to imagine the little girl easily knowing the name of all her brothers and even going to the lengths of recognizing them by only their voices. To these big guys, making the daughter of their Primarch laugh loudly is the biggest of feats just behind their duty as warriors to the Imperium.

Raven Guard

It’s hard to pinpoint the kind of feelings these guys may feel regarding the daughter of their Primarch but I can see them at least being quite warm towards her, engaging in games of hide and seek and sometimes giving her trinkets they “found around” as a token of respect. They would act surprised each time the little birdie jumped on them to scare them with a loud “gotchu!” but it’s hard for me to think that the daughter of Corvus would call the astartes “Big Brothers” when they aren’t extremely close.

Alpha Legion

Everyone is Papa… no hesitation there. The daughter of Alpharius/Omegon will be respected and loved by all the Legion with no questions asked since all of them are her “father”.

-°-

Hope this was of your liking, dude!

[deerlino]

Could u please do streamer felix x girlfriend reader where like reader comes and sits felixs' lap while he's streaming while gaming and she ends up sleeping?

౨ৎ — dreaming in pixels ( lf. )

lee felix x fem!reader — felix, the streamer, and you, his girlfriend, have a cute moment during one of his gaming streams. you sneak into his streaming room and plop down on his lap. surprisingly cozy, you end up dozing off, surrounded by all the fluffiness and warmth.

additional tags — streamer!felix. content creator au. (domestic) fluff. affectionate. cute girlfriend. soft moments. twitch stream. 824 word count.

content warnings — no need for content warnings here. it's all about being affectionate, tender, and comforting.

author notes @ anon — a heartwarming streamer lixie fic! 🥹 i'm obsessed with streamer felix, so getting this request made me super happy. 💘 hope you enjoy it and have a blast reading! xo. < 3

You tiptoed through the hallway, a mischievous smile curling on your lips as you heard the faint sounds of Felix’s voice, enthusiastic and animated, drifting from his streaming room. You peeked around the corner, catching sight of him engrossed in his game, headset firmly in place, fingers flying over his keyboard.

He didn’t notice you at first, too focused on his screen, but you couldn’t help yourself. You quietly crept up behind him, placing your hands over his eyes. “Guess who?” you whispered, giggling softly.

Felix’s fingers paused mid-keystroke, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Hmm, let me think… Is it my incredibly cute girlfriend who’s supposed to be studying right now?”

You laughed, moving your hands away and leaning over his shoulder to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Guilty as charged,” you admitted. “But I needed a break, and I missed you.”

He tilted his head back to look up at you, his eyes softening. “I missed you too, babe. Come here,” he said, patting his lap invitingly.

You didn’t need any more encouragement. Climbing onto his lap, you settled in, wrapping your arms around his neck as he shifted to accommodate you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Comfortable?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Very,” you replied, snuggling against him. You rested your head on his shoulder, watching the screen as he resumed his game. His fingers moved deftly, effortlessly, and you were mesmerized by the way he played, so focused and skilled.

“What are you playing?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur against his ear.

“Just a bit of Valorant,” he replied, his eyes never leaving the screen. “The chat’s loving it.”

You glanced at the chat, seeing a flurry of messages reacting to Felix’s gameplay—and to your sudden appearance. “Your girlfriend is so cute! 💛” one message read, while another said, “Awww, our favorite streamer and his girl, goals! 😍”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Your fans seem to like me,” you teased.

Felix grinned, glancing at the chat briefly. “Of course they do. They have good taste,” he said, giving you a quick squeeze. “But I like you more.”

You felt your cheeks warm, and you buried your face in his neck to hide your blush. “You’re so cheesy,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t hide the smile in your voice.

“And you love it,” he shot back, pressing another kiss to your temple. His attention returned to the game, but his free hand remained on your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns against your skin. The rhythmic motion, combined with the steady hum of his voice and the soft glow of the screen, started to lull you into a peaceful daze.

You fought to keep your eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment of this rare, quiet time with Felix. But the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his presence, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed began to pull you under. You yawned, nestling closer to him.

Felix glanced down at you, his expression softening even more. “Sleepy?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

“A little,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can I stay here?”

“Of course, love,” he said, his voice as soft as his touch. “I’ve got you.”

You sighed contentedly, your eyes drifting shut as you let yourself relax completely. Felix’s heartbeat was a soothing rhythm under your ear, and the sounds of his game faded into the background. You felt his cheek rest against your head, and the gentle pressure of his hold reassured you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

Time seemed to blur as you hovered on the edge of sleep. You were dimly aware of Felix’s voice, still chatting with his viewers, but it was distant, like a lullaby. His fingers never stopped their gentle tracing on your waist, each touch sending waves of comfort through you.

Finally, you let go, slipping into a peaceful slumber, your breathing evening out as you nestled closer to Felix. You were vaguely aware of his soft chuckle, the tender way he adjusted his hold on you, making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

“Looks like she’s out,” you heard him say softly, probably to the chat. “Guess I’m stuck here for a while. Not that I’m complaining.”

The chat erupted with comments again, but you were too far gone to care. All that mattered was the warmth of Felix’s embrace, the steady beat of his heart, and the overwhelming feeling of love that surrounded you.

As you drifted deeper into sleep, you felt Felix’s lips press a final, feather-light kiss to your forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby,” he whispered. “I love you.”

And with that, you surrendered completely to the comforting darkness, secure in the knowledge that you were exactly where you belonged—safe and sound in Felix’s arms.

© deerlino (est. 120624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

[natsaffection]

hey, love 💕

i was thinking about the my sweet baby universe again(i love it so much 🥹) and could you write something like baby goes to nat's office for a surprise visit on their anniversary or something like that, but she's only wearing lingerie under her coat (or maybe just full naked, it's your call 🫣) and i feel like nats reaction would be vert enjoyable hehehe 🤭. anyways, i think you'd make a great fic, thanks honey ;)

Happy anniversary.

Sugar Mommy!Natasha x Sugar Baby!Reader

MINORS DNI 18+!

Warnings: Age gap! (N= 37 R= 21), thigh riding, Mommy kink, begging, fingering, slight overstimulation

Word count: 1,6 k

A/n: for the extra feeling, listen to Dead Man's Arms by Bishop Briggs when the smut starts, its heavenly. 🫂

In the soft glow of the morning light, you stirred from your sleep, stretching beneath the cozy blankets. Groggily, you opened your eyes to find Natasha's side of the bed empty. A hint of disappointment flickered, thinking Natasha might have forgotten the significance of the day.

But as you sat up, you noticed a delicate note lying on Natasha's bedside table. Curiosity was piqued and you eagerly unfolded the paper. In Natasha's elegant handwriting, the note read: "Happy anniversary, my love."

A hint of warmth spread through your chest and a bright smile graced your face. It was a simple but profound gesture, an acknowledgment that, while Natasha was still navigating the nuances of relationships, she had taken a moment to acknowledge and celebrate her love.

Joy simmered within you as you imagined Natasha at work, carrying the weight of her responsibilities and still finding a moment to express her affection. The anniversary had started on a sweet note, setting the tone for the surprises that awaited them and confirming the depth of their connection.

As you entered the living room, you were met with a breathtaking sight - every surface was decorated with an abundance of flowers, delicate roses and soft petals. The air was filled with the sweet scent of love and effort. You stood there in a daze and watched the romantic spectacle unfolding before them.

With careful steps, you continued into the kitchen, where another heartwarming surprise awaited you. The table was set with an enchanting breakfast spread - freshly baked pastries, assorted fruits and a pot of steaming coffee. A note with Natasha's distinctive handwriting caught your attention.

„Y/n, Every detail is a tribute to us. Enjoy the surprises and know that my heart belongs to you, today and always.”

Overcome with emotion, you turned around to see Maria, the maid, quietly taking care of her duties. “Did you do all that?” you asked incredulously.

Maria shook her head with a warm smile. “No, Ms. Romanoff was up all night making sure everything was perfect for your anniversary. She wanted today to be special for you.”

You felt a rush of gratitude and joy. The thoughtful gestures, the romantic atmosphere and the effort Natasha had made to create a magical morning touched you deeply. You enjoyed breakfast with a heart full of love, knowing that every bite was a taste of the affection with which Natasha had made your anniversary unforgettable.

Inspired by Natasha's romantic gestures in the morning, you felt a wave of excitement to return the love. As you thought about ideas for a surprise, a mischievous thought came to mind - one that would add a dash of spice to the day..

As the minutes passed, you carefully planned the surprise, carefully choosing a sexy ensemble that you knew would make Natasha's heart beat faster. The anticipation grew, and with every second that passed, You couldn't help but grin at the joy you were about to unleash.

In the beating heart of the city, you strolled the busy streets to find the perfect surprise for Natasha on her special day. The charming lingerie boutique beckoned and you entered, greeted by a selection of delicate lace and seductive fabrics.

The saleswoman with a strong sense of elegance guided you through the boutique's offerings. Soft whispers of satin, intricate lace patterns and the promise of seduction filled the air. Feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation, you began selecting pieces that fit the celebration you had envisioned.

In the locker room, the atmosphere became more intimate. Soft lighting highlighted the details of the lingerie, and as you tried on different ensembles, the mirror reflected a journey of self-discovery. The delicate lace hugged your curves and each piece told a story of sensuality and sophistication.

As you admired the reflection, the anticipation of surprising Natasha grew. The salesperson, recognizing the significance of the occasion, offered words of encouragement and added expert advice on the art of seduction to the experience.

Once back home, the chosen ensemble adorned your figure, with each piece carefully chosen to create a captivating appeal. The underwear, a secret beneath her elegant coat, promised a moment of passion and connection with Natasha. Once you were satisfied with the sight, you threw a nice coat around yourself and made your way to her office.

When you arrived, Natash's assistant took you straight to her and as you entered her office with an innocent smile, you closed the door with a soft click. The soft click of the door drew Natasha's attention away from the stacks of paperwork.

“Y/n! what are you doing here?” You are trying to keep your composure, but feeling a tinge of nervousness, "I just wanted to add a little... spark to your day."

Natasha, astute as ever, noticed the subtle signs. Your slight trembling and a tell-tale blush adorning your cheeks. A knowing grin played on Natasha's lips. “Ah, you’re trying to surprise me, aren’t you?”

You, surprised by Natasha's perspicacity, stammered, "Well, I... I thought it would be a fun way to celebrate our anniversary..“

Natasha enjoyed you nervous state and leaned back in her chair, her eyes filled with playful mischief. “Come here, darling. Let’s see what delightful surprise you have in store.”

As you approached and slowly took off the coat, Natasha's eyes lit up with anticipation. The atmosphere in the room changed, filled with the promise of a celebration that combined the sweetness of their love with the spicy surprises of their desires.

Natasha's eyes widened, a hint of surprise, before a seductive grin appeared. “Well, this is a wonderful distraction,” she remarked, her gaze lingering on your enticing ensemble.

Playing the innocence card, you approached the desk and ran your fingers over Natasha's stressed-out paperwork. “Happy anniversary, Natasha,” you cooed, shy smiling giving away your secret intentions.

Natasha's stress was momentarily forgotten and she leaned back in her chair, fascinated by the sparkle in your eyes.

"I've been craving something more than just paperwork all day." You grinned and slid a hand down Natasha's thigh, your closeness becoming more intense. "How about a different kind of...stress relief?"

Your mind becomes clouded with a lustful haze that blinds your insecurities when you can utter the next word without an ounce of resistance. "How about I make you feel good this time?“

It wasn't until the words left your mouth that you realized what you had said and the shock hitting both of your faces at the same time. You regret it and consider pulling away completely, but before you can, a sneer appears on her lips again. "That's not how it works, Malysh." Her arm quickly wraps around your waist and moves you so that you're standing between her legs.

Without warning, she pushed your body against her thighs and a soft gasp escaped your mouth. “Be a good girl for me and let me do it.” She looks up at you and her arm moves around your waist again. Your clit begins to rub against her thigh, and Natasha's moved her legs just the same to show you how to move your hips.

Her hands grasp your waist, holding you tight and giving you stability. Not only the feeling of your pleasure as you rub against her thighs, but the way Natasha maintains control and dominance even when she's beneath you sends you completely into subspace.

Her other hand works on your breast, her fingers massaging the flesh with gentle pinches before she takes it into her mouth. You can't look away from her, and neither can Natasha, even though your cheeks are very flushed and inflamed. The eye contact you share as you ride her thighs while she sucks on your breasts will put you in a trance you won't be able to break.

But soon you have no choice but to close your eyes. It doesn't come from desire, but from need. Because your orgasm threatens to erupt within you on a scale that neither of you were prepared for.

Her mouth opens as her tongue licks your breasts, and it all begins before you reach your climax.

Her hips buck against yours and her moans echo through the silent room, loud enough for the staff to hear, but you don't care as the pleasure rings high in your ears. "Good girl."

You were still in a trance when Natasha picked you up and placed you on her table. She grabbed your legs and spread them in front of her, “Don’t make a sound, Y/n, or I’ll stop, do you understand me?”

You nodded eagerly, your skin tingling as Natasha slowly slid her tongue from your thigh down to your pussy. You arched into the touch, squeezing your eyes shut again as Natasha's thumb slowly swiped over your clit.

“Nnngh.” You try to stay silent, holding your palm over your mouth. Another of her fingers rubbed your clit and this time she pushed inside.

Shortly afterwards, Natasha picked up speed and thrust into you again and again. Her arm moves up to your head to hold you tighter, “I-It feels so good!” you whimper into your hand.

„Oh, I know..“ Natasha smiled and pressed her thumb lightly against your clit, rubbing eagerly, circles against the smooth, throbbing bud. You felt the pleasure building inside you again, an unimaginable heat and pressure deep in your stomach that was aching to be released.

The thumb on your clit stoked the heat into an inferno and you felt your control suddenly slip and your voice become high and desperate again. “Oh God, Mommy! Ah, it's too much! I’m going to – I’m going to–” you babbled, clinging tightly to Natasha’s free arm.

Natasha’s voice was soft, urging you to your climax again with gentle movements and touches, “It’s okay, let it out. Come for me.“ You gasp. “Oh, fuck!” The heat in your stomach exploded throughout your body and you climaxed a second and final time.

Natasha gently ran her fingers through your hair and cooed softly to you as your climax passed, leaving you shaking and exhausted. “Thank you for the perfect anniversary my love.”

-

-

-

-

[sycamorelibrary754]

Merry Christmas

Summary: It’s the most wonderful time of the year. You and Natasha are off to the annual Stark Christmas Party. Little does the team know that a special surprise awaits them.

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Natasha x reader, Avengers x reader (platonic).

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is part 2 to Happy Thanksgiving! I recommend reading it first, but it can be read as a stand-alone story as well. I hope you enjoy!

“Be down in a minute, malyshka!” Natasha called from the bedroom. 

You were standing in the cozy kitchen, savoring spoonfuls of creamy peanut butter straight from the jar, drizzled with rich chocolate sauce. You jokingly referred to it as your "homemade Reese's." It was your first pregnancy craving, prompting Nat to rush to the corner grocery store at 2 am to procure the duo of ingredients.

"No worries!" You were all set for Tony's yearly Christmas gathering at the compound. Clad in a stunning green Sequin-Lace Halter Twist-Neck Jumpsuit, your tiny baby bump added an extra glow to the outfit.

Natasha's arrival was announced by the confident click of her high heels. A few moments later, she appeared in a stunning, sleek red midi dress with a scoop-back design, perfectly accentuating her figure.

"Wow, Nat, you look absolutely stunning in red. It's definitely your color," you complimented.

Her smirk grew as she put on her earrings, 'So, you're choosing it over the black?' she teased.

"I never said that, did I?" with a cheeky wink.

"Is the little one loving the homemade Reese’s?" she said, grabbing her clutch.

Absolutely!" I exclaimed, setting aside the tempting chocolate and peanut butter. "How about we whip up some delicious fudge tomorrow?

"Is it because the baby has such a sweet tooth?" Nat playfully teased.

"Absolutely," you giggled coyly.

"Whatever the baby wants, I guess," she said as she enveloped you in a warm embrace, then leaned over to plant a tender kiss on your belly.

"Are you ready to drop the baby bomb tonight?" Patting Nat's head affectionately.

“I'm feeling a bit nervous," she confessed, standing upright. "I remember how everyone reacted when they learned about Clint's family. I can't help but wonder how they'll take this news.

“They will embrace their roles as the wonderful aunts and uncles they were meant to be,” you said, grabbing your wife's hand. “Plus, announcing it with the Christmas crackers is a cute idea.”

"I hope so," she whispered before planting a gentle kiss on your lips. 

Can you believe Yelena still hasn't spilled the beans?” you asked.

"Oh, that's because I warned her that if she told anyone, I would make her run with me every morning at 5 am until the baby is born," Natasha explained.

“Well played,” you replied, high-fiving your wife. 

Thank you," she smiled. "Now, come on, let's go and get into the holiday spirit.

*^~^*

As you drove to the compound, the snowflakes delicately blanketed the landscape, creating a picturesque scene of holiday cheer. Each house you passed was adorned with shimmering Christmas lights, casting a warm, enchanting glow upon the neighborhood. You reached out to hold Natasha's hand, your fingers naturally intertwining as she pressed a tender kiss to the back of your hand, savoring the moment.

Upon your arrival at the compound, a rush of inviting warmth enveloped us as you both stepped into the lobby. Natasha brushed the delicate snowflakes from your hair and coat, her caring touch bringing a sense of comfort. Together, you made your way onto the elevator, where the voice of FRIDAY greeted us, creating a tranquil atmosphere as we continued our journey.

“Ladies, Merry Christmas, and welcome to the annual Stark Christmas party!”

“Merry Christmas, FRIDAY. How’s the party so far?” You asked as the elevator hum carried you up to the living quarters.

“The festivities are in full swing. Mr. Stark is treating the guests to a medley of lively and heartwarming Christmas carols,” FRIDAY explained.

"Of course he is," you chuckled.

“He only plays that baby grand after a few drinks," Nat added. "After our month-long covert op in Romania, we flew back, and he decided to mark the occasion with a tipsy performance of ABBA’s Dancing Queen.”

"Ah, I can't believe I missed it!" you groaned, pretending to be disappointed.

As the elevator doors slid open, the vibrant red and green decorations instantly caught your eye, along with the magnificent 12-foot-tall Noble Fir Christmas tree that stood proudly in the heart of the common area. It was evident that Pepper had poured her heart into adorning the tree, carefully draping it in an array of colored lights and delicate silver and gold ornaments. The festive ambiance filled the air, evoking a sense of warmth and holiday cheer.

"Look who's here - the Romanoff's have arrived!" Clint cheered as his kids eagerly ran over to greet you and Natahsa.

As Nate leaped into your wife's embrace, you welcomed Lila and Cooper with warm hugs. Each time you saw the Barton kids, it became apparent that they had grown a little more. Banner and Cho made carrying a child that would be a combination of both your and Natasha's genes possible. Observing the striking resemblance of Clint and Laura's children to their parents, you eagerly anticipated discovering which traits your little plum would inherit from each of you.

Natasha leaned in and planted a kiss on Nathaniel's cheek. "How's my little namesake?" she grinned. "Have you been practicing those punch and kick combinations I taught you?

"Practicing the what?" Laura asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing,” Natasha flashed a sly smile as Nate burst into laughter.

"You both look amazing! The green and red combination is really working for you," Clint said.

Thanks! I have to say that your Christmas sweater is quite lovely. I really dig Rudolph's glowing nose." You don't see that very often!” You teased.

“Hey, the Barton’s are the cream of the crop when it comes to ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“Clearly,” Nat stated.

"I’ll take your coats," Cooper graciously offered.

"Wow, thank you. What a gentleman," you said as you handed him yours and Natasha’s pea coats.

Looking around, you spotted Wanda adding the final decorations to trays of delicious Christmas cookies. You put a hand on Nat’s shoulder and motioned toward the kitchen. She gave you a quick nod as you meandered over to the counter. 

"Wanda, Wanda, Wanda... What do we have here?" you inquired with a sly grin.

Y/N! It's so good to see you," she exclaimed, her arms wrapping around me in one of her signature warm and comforting hugs that I always loved. "This is my parents' famous Christmas cookie recipe," she proudly announced, holding up a worn and stained piece of paper. "I managed to convince Tony and Pepper to let me take charge of the desserts this year. So, we've got batches of freshly baked cookies, the decadent Viennese torte chilling in the fridge, and the pumpkin pie just coming out to cool on the counter.

Wow, you've been keeping busy," you said with a smile. "Is there anything I can do to lend a hand?

"Sure, you can take a cookie and go mingle. I'll be finished in a few minutes," she said, handing you a delightful cookie shaped like Santa. As you bit into it, you were amazed. It was the most delicious cookie you had ever tasted.

"Wow, Wanda! This is fantastic!" you exclaimed excitedly.

"That's exactly why I'll always champion homemade goodies over store-bought ones. Now, come on, go join the fun," she said, playfully shooing you away.

You turned around to see your wife, elegantly positioned by the fireplace, conversing with Steve with a champagne glass. As you began crossing the room, Kate and Lucky, adorned in festive attire, intercepted your path.

"Y/N! It's been ages! How have you been?" Kate exclaimed, her face lighting up with excitement.

"Hey, Kate! It's great to see you and Lucky enjoying the party," while giving the Golden Retriever some affectionate pets.

"Kate joyfully exclaimed, "Yes, say hello to Santa Paws and Mrs. Claus!" Sadly, we can't seem to find Yelena. She's our dedicated elf." Kate glanced around the room with concern.

Wait, Yelena is actually dressed as an elf?!" Your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, that's fantastic.”

“Yeah, if you see her, will you send her our way? We’re supposed to take the photo for our holiday card tonight,” Kate explained.

"Nothing would make me happier," you said with a smirk and a hand resting on Kate's shoulder.

You bid farewell to the young archer and her loyal pup before rejoining your wife.

"Hey detka," Nat greeted, gently wrapping her arm around your waist.

"Y/N, I was just telling your wife that she needs to find her holiday spirit and come Christmas caroling with us next week," Steve stated.

"Natasha singing? I'm not convinced that would do wonders for the community's morale," you quipped.

Nat giggled at the remark, "Says the woman who performs one-woman tributes to Harry Styles in the shower?"

“Hey" you interrupted, "I'll have you know that my performance of Sign of the Times has been receiving high praise.

A moment later, Tony and Pepper joined your little group, with Morgan walking alongside them.

"Hey there, Romanoffs! You've got to taste this amazing Hot Buttered Rum," Tony exclaimed.

I adore Hot Buttered Rum, but I'm in the mood for some sparkling cider tonight," you explained. "I bet Nat would enjoy some, though. Don't you think, sweetheart?”

"Sure," she said, grabbing the glass from Tony's hand. Steve looked back at you curiously.

As you looked down at Morgan, who was sitting on the cozy ottoman next to the crackling fireplace, you couldn't help but feel a deep connection. Ever since you discovered that you were expecting a baby, your heart has been inexplicably drawn to children in a way you had never experienced before.

"Hey there, cutie!" you exclaimed to the young Stark. "You're looking lovely tonight," as you crouched down to her eye level.

"Thank you, Aunt Y/N," she said with a big grin.

“Are you getting excited for Christmas?" you inquired. "You're at the top of Santa's nice list this year!

“Really?!” Morgan squealed.

"Definitely! I have a feeling the man in red will bring you some amazing surprises this year," you winked.

Hey, did you hear that, Daddy? Aunt Y/N just told me that I'm at the very top of the nice list!

“I sure did, squirt. I didn’t realize Aunt Y/N was so tight with St. Nick,” Tony said, eyeing you coyly.

"Of course, we're on a first-name basis. I'm amazed you're not," you said with a smirk, looking at the billionaire. You had a strong bond with Tony, treating him like a brother, but you couldn't resist teasing him.

Trust me, Mrs. Romanoff," Tony said with a smirk. "I'm way closer to Santa than you are.

“Do you have a direct line to the North Pole?” You countered.

"Are you getting milk and cookies flown in from Holland? You know those are his absolute favorites," Tony remarked, giving you a knowing look.

"Alright, that's enough," your wife said as she touched your shoulders from behind. "You both know Santa. You both have giant egos. Merry Christmas," Nat mocked. "Come on, Tony, let's grab some hors d'oeuvres for our better halves. I'll be right back, detka," she said, leading the billionaire toward the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but admire Natasha as she walked away. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiled at you with all the love in the world. You just about melted right there in front of the fireplace. Snapping out of your love daze, you noticed Pepper grinning at you.

“What?” you asked.

"Oh, nothing. I just can’t help but notice how glowing you look tonight," Pepper said as Morgan pulled her away towards Clint’s kids, while Steve strolled away to join Bucky in conversation with Rhodes.

"Hey, psst... psst!" a voice suddenly whispered.

You suddenly spun around just in time to see a styrofoam snowball hurtling towards your face. With lightning-fast reflexes, you snatched it out of the air smoothly.

"Good catch," a Russian voice exclaimed.

"Yelena, where are you?" You glanced around, but couldn't see my sister-in-law anywhere.

"Over here!" she called out, peeking from behind the towering seven-foot snowman beside the pool table.

"Aww, you look absolutely adorable as an elf," you giggled.

Yelena's voice was barely audible as she uttered, "If you weren't pregnant with my niece or nephew, you would be hanging upside down from the rafters right now."

"Do you know that Kate and Lucky are looking for you?" you asked.

“Why do you think I’m hiding behind the enormous snowman? Kate Bishop forced me to dress in this saccharin American Christmas costume, and now she wants photographic evidence of it.” Yelena said.

"Because she loves you, silly," she said with a smile, arms crossed over her chest.

"Dinner time, detka. Let's go," Natasha called out and then abruptly halted, bursting into laughter at the sight of her sister.

“Tred carefully, sestra,” Yelena threatened. 

Nope, I'm loving this. Isn't this the new mission suit attire?" she said, playfully tapping the bell hanging from her elf hat. "Maybe we can convince Stark to level up this outfit with some Widow Bites action.

“Do you have a death wish?” Yelena sneered.

“Come on, you adorable elf, it’s time for dinner,” you say as you place an arm around your best friend’s shoulder.

*^~^*

As you sat next to your wife at the elegant Astoria Grand Giovani dining table, the soft touch of Natasha's hand sent a gentle warmth through you. You turned to her and caught her shy smile; her cheeks tinged with a rosy, festive blush.

Pepper rose from her seat beside Tony at the head of the lavishly decorated holiday table. With warmth in her voice and a genuine smile, she addressed the gathered guests. "Before we savor this delectable holiday spread, I want to express our deep gratitude for every one of you being here," she said, gently clasping Tony's hand. "Every person in this room understands the preciousness of life, and we cherish every moment together. We want you to know how much we love you, and we wish you all a Merry Christmas."

"Cheers!" Thor exclaimed a few seats away, raising his glass as clinking filled the table.

The festive Christmas feast brought an abundance of delightful dishes to savor. The centerpiece was a perfectly roasted turkey, surrounded by tempting trimmings. Freshly baked bread, creamy mashed potatoes, and garden-fresh vegetables, delicately roasted and complemented with balsamic vinegar, graced the table. Laughter filled the air as the group indulged in cheerful conversation and shared a medley of lighthearted, albeit incredibly corny, jokes.

As the evening progressed, pregnancy mood swings began to intensify. Amidst the gathering, a wave of emotion washed over you as you and your extended family relished the holiday season together.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Carol's eyes held a deep sense of concern as she gazed at you from across the table.

Oh, yeah," you say, dabbing at the corner of your eyes with a napkin. "I'm fine.

"The holidays always tug at her heartstrings," Natasha covered, resting her head on your shoulder.

After your delicious dinner, you assisted Wanda in setting up the dessert spread. Placing the Christmas cookies in the center, you carefully arranged the Viennese torte and the pumpkin pie on either side. As the evening progressed, you passed around coffee and dessert wine; all enjoying the company and the sweet treats.

The room was filled with the cozy warmth of full bellies and slightly sleepy eyes as the group relaxed in the living room. Soft, enchanting Christmas music filled the air, creating the perfect backdrop for the kids' lively discussions about their Christmas wishes and what they hoped Santa would bring them this year.

"Alright, Kate Bishop, let's hurry up with this photo. I can't wait to change into my pajamas," Yelena declared as she reluctantly rose from the couch.

You got it! Stay right there. Come here, Lucky," Kate called out as the dog happily bounded over. "Vision, could you snap the photo for us?

"Of course, Ms. Bishop," he said, confidently taking the Canon EOS R-50 from the archer's hands.

“It is customary to say cheese before a picture, but since it is Christmas time, perhaps you should say mistletoe?” Vision inquired.

"Just take the picture, you overgrown toaster," Yelena said dryly, a hint of impatience in her voice.

Kate's voice echoed through the room, 'Mistletoe!'

"Hey, we're getting one of these cards, right?" you eagerly looked at your wife.

“I had Kate put us down for two,” she smirked.

*^~^*

As darkness descended, you leaned back and rested your tired head on Nat's comforting lap, feeling the soothing sensation of her fingers gently running through your hair.

Natasha glanced at her watch, noting the late hour. "Are you ready to drop the baby bomb?"

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I'll grab the Christmas crackers," you declared, getting up from the sofa.

"Hey everyone, Y/N and I have a surprise for you," your wife nervously announced as you handed out the gold and silver novelties to the team.

"Christmas crackers? Seriously? I was expecting something a bit more extravagant… Oww!" Tony complained as Pepper playfully pinched his arm.

You smiled nervously, your heart racing as you reached for Natasha. The snap of the festive crackers echoed merrily across the room. Clint's eyes lit up as he was the first to reach inside and carefully remove the tiny gift from the cracker. The little round ceramic white ornament, delicately tied to a vibrant red ribbon, appeared in his hand, reflecting the warm glow of the holiday lights. Lila, Cooper, and Nate, their faces filled with excitement and curiosity, eagerly huddled around their dad to get a glimpse as Clint slowly turned the ornament to read the inscription, a moment of joy and togetherness shared by the entire family.

"Uncle Clint?" he read, looking up at Natasha in complete shock.

Sam couldn't believe it and shouted, "No way!"

As Wanda, Carol, and Kate gazed upon their unique ornaments, they couldn't help but shout a collective scream of joy. Each ornament proudly displayed its name, followed by the cherished title of "Aunt."

Thor exclaimed, 'This is joyous news!'

Pepper jumped to her feet and wrapped you in a bear hug, while Laura did the same with Natasha.

“How far along are you?” Wanda asked.

“Almost three months,” Yelena cut in.

"Wait, you knew?! Why didn't you tell me?" Kate yelled, slapping her girlfriend on the arm.

“Because I want to sleep in!” Yelena shouted.

"Nat, I'm thrilled for you," Steve exclaimed, gently kissing her cheek.

Bucky enveloped you in a warm embrace, planting a soft kiss on your head.

"Are you ready to take on the role of Uncle Bucky?" You lock eyes with him.

His face froze in sheer panic, like a deer caught in the headlights. “Oh my God.”

“You’ll be great, Buck,” you chuckled. 

Bruce and Helen wrapped Natasha in a warm, heartfelt embrace, simultaneously holding her close from both sides.

Helen turned to you with a look of relief. "Now that everyone knows, we can openly discuss your pregnancy," she said. "Have you been taking your prenatal vitamins regularly?

"Don't forget, you've got an appointment on Friday," Bruce said.

Without a second thought, you replied, "Yes and yes," as Natasha leaned in to gently kiss your cheek, followed by another on your belly.

Tony swaggered up to you with his trademark smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Bracing yourself for one of his classic Stark one-liners or a cheeky joke, you were entirely taken off guard when he unexpectedly enveloped you in a comforting and heartfelt hug.

“Congratulations, Romanoff,” Tony said. “It looks like you do know Santa best.” 

[muiitoloko]

I’m sick with fever right now and I was thinking if you could write something about Alan’s character taking care of his partner? I don’t know which one but I need a rougher and older one to contrast with the fragility of his partner and to show him out of character? If you don’t want I totally understand.

Title: A Night of Softness.

Summary: On a cold, feverish night, Judge Turpin allows a moment of warmth to break through his stern exterior, holding his wife close as she drifts into sleep.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: Oh no, I hope you feel better soon! 😔 I totally get the need for some comforting care, especially from a rougher, older character who shows that soft side we don't see often. So, guess what? I’m going to write something with Judge Turpin taking care of his partner! There’s something about that contrast that makes it all the more heartwarming. Stay cozy, and I hope this story will be like a warm blanket for you! 🌟

Also read on Ao3

Judge Richard Turpin strode into the grand foyer of his opulent mansion, the sound of his boots echoing off the marble floors. He removed his hat with a swift motion, handing it to a waiting servant, while another immediately stepped forward to help him with his heavy coat. The household was well-trained, as expected, and no one dared speak unless spoken to first.

“Where is my wife?” Turpin asked, his baritone voice cold and commanding, though there was a hint of impatience in his tone. He had little tolerance for deviations from the expected order of things, and his wife’s absence from their usual evening routine was an unwelcome surprise.

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, hesitant to be the one to deliver potentially displeasing news. Finally, one of them, an older man with a bowed head, stepped forward. “Milord, the mistress is in bed,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “She has not been well today.”

Turpin’s expression darkened, his hazel eyes narrowing in suspicion. “In bed? At this hour?” he repeated, the edge in his voice sharper now. It was almost dinner time, and such behavior was unseemly for a woman of her station.

“Forgive me, milord,” the servant continued, clearly uncomfortable under Turpin’s stern gaze. “I attempted to summon the physician, but the mistress would not allow it.”

Turpin hummed to himself, a low, thoughtful sound that made the servants shift nervously on their feet. He was not a man known for his patience or his kindness, and the idea that his wife had refused medical attention both irritated and perplexed him. Without another word, he turned on his heel and began to ascend the grand staircase, his steps measured and deliberate.

As he approached the bedroom, the heavy wooden door creaked open at his touch. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to block out the waning light of the day. The large four-poster bed dominated the room, its thick, luxurious curtains partially drawn, giving it an air of seclusion.

His gaze fell upon you, lying in the center of the bed, your form half-buried under layers of blankets. Your usually bright eyes were dull with fever, and your skin, normally so fair and delicate, was pale with an unhealthy hue. Even in your weakened state, you seemed startled by his presence, your breath catching in your throat as you looked up at him.

“Milord,” you murmured weakly, your voice a mere whisper of its usual self. “I… I didn’t expect you so soon."

Turpin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he moved closer to the bed, his tall figure looming over you. He said nothing at first, simply studying you with those piercing hazel eyes that always seemed to see more than they revealed. Finally, he reached out, his hand cool against your burning forehead.

“You’re feverish,” he stated flatly, though there was an undercurrent of something else in his tone—something that almost resembled concern, though he would never admit it. “Why did you refuse the doctor?”

You hesitated, uncertain of how to answer. It was true that you had always been somewhat fragile, prone to bouts of illness that left you weak and bedridden. But you had never wanted to appear weak in his eyes, never wanted to be a burden to him. You were still so unsure of your place in his life, still so afraid that he only kept you because it suited his needs.

“I… I didn’t want to trouble you, milord,” you finally said, averting your gaze from his intense scrutiny. “It’s just a slight fever. It will pass.”

Turpin’s hand tightened slightly on your shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of your nightgown. “You are my wife,” he said, his voice low and stern. “It is my responsibility to ensure your well-being. I will not have you ignoring your health out of some misguided sense of not wanting to trouble me.”

His words, though harsh, carried a weight that left you momentarily speechless. It was rare for him to show any hint of concern for you, and it left you feeling more vulnerable than you cared to admit.

“I am sorry, milord,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you dared to look up at him once more. “I did not mean to worry you.”

For a moment, Turpin simply stared down at you, his expression inscrutable. Then, much to your surprise, he began to unfasten his cufflinks, rolling up his sleeves with an air of determination. Without a word, he turned and crossed the room to where a basin of water sat on a side table. He dipped a cloth into the cool water, wringing it out before returning to your side.

You watched in stunned silence as he gently pressed the damp cloth to your forehead, the coolness of it a welcome relief against your feverish skin. The action was so out of character for him, so far removed from the stern, imposing figure you had grown accustomed to, that you could hardly believe it was real.

“Rest,” he commanded softly, his voice a deep rumble that was almost soothing. “I will not leave your side until you are well again.”

You blinked up at him, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. The tenderness in his touch, the quiet resolve in his voice, it was more than you had ever dared hope for. For the first time since your marriage, you felt a glimmer of something more than fear or uncertainty—a small, fragile hope that perhaps there was more to this man than the cold, calculating exterior he so often showed the world.

As you closed your eyes, allowing the cool cloth and his steady presence to lull you into a much-needed rest, you couldn’t help but wonder if, beneath all his cruelty and sternness, there was a part of him that truly cared for you—a part that, for tonight at least, was willing to show itself.

As you drifted into a feverish sleep, Turpin remained by your side, his stern gaze fixed upon you. The room was silent, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth and the occasional rustle of the curtains as a breeze slipped through the cracks of the old mansion. His mind, usually occupied with matters of the court and his own ambitions, was now solely focused on you—a rare occurrence that even he found unsettling.

He stood there as he had promised, unmoving, watching the rise and fall of your chest beneath the blankets. His hazel eyes, sharp and calculating in the courtroom, now softened as they traced the delicate features of your face. The fever had drained the color from your cheeks, but to him, you were still beautiful—something he had never told you, nor ever thought to. He had always believed that such sentiments were unnecessary, a weakness that had no place in his life. Yet here he was, unable to look away.

His hand, usually so firm and unyielding, hesitated before reaching out to touch a lock of your hair that had fallen across your forehead. The strands were cool and soft between his fingers, and he twirled them absently, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had never been one to show affection; it wasn’t in his nature. But there was something about the way you lay there, so vulnerable and fragile, that stirred an unfamiliar feeling within him—something that bordered on concern, though he would never admit it, not even to himself.

You murmured softly in your sleep, a faint sound that barely reached his ears, and he instinctively tightened his grip on the lock of hair, as if to reassure himself that you were still there, still breathing. The sight of you, so weakened and dependent on his care, made him uneasy. Turpin was a man accustomed to control, to power, and the thought that someone might actually rely on him, not out of fear but out of need, was a concept he had never fully grasped.

"Rest," he muttered under his breath, echoing the command he had given you earlier. His voice, even in this quiet moment, held its usual gruff authority, but there was a softness there as well—a reluctant tenderness that surprised even him.

He continued to play with your hair, his thoughts drifting to the last six months of your marriage. You had been little more than a pawn in his life, someone to fulfill the societal expectations of a man in his position. He had married you out of convenience, and perhaps a desire to possess something beautiful, something pure in his otherwise dark and corrupt world. But as he stood there, watching over you in your most vulnerable state, he couldn’t deny that you had become more to him than just a possession.

You stirred again, your fevered brow furrowing slightly, and he placed the cloth back on your forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle. It was a strange thing, this care he was giving you. He had always seen himself as a man above such sentiments, a man who took what he wanted and discarded what no longer served him. But with you, it was different. You were different.

His thoughts darkened as he considered how little you knew of his true nature, how little you understood the man you had married. There was cruelty in him, a deep-seated malice that had shaped his life and his decisions. He was a man of power, a judge who had condemned countless souls to their fates without a second thought. He was feared, hated even, by those who knew him, and yet here you were, lying so trustingly in his bed, under his care.

Turpin’s grip on your hair loosened as he let out a long, measured breath. He knew he wasn’t a good man—he had never pretended to be. But for some reason, the idea of you seeing him as anything other than your protector, your husband, unsettled him. He had never cared about anyone’s opinion of him before, yet with you, it was different. The thought of you fearing him, of you seeing the darkness within him, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He withdrew his hand, letting the lock of hair fall back onto the pillow. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he straightened, his expression hardening. There was no place for softness in his life, no place for the kind of care he was showing you now. And yet, as he turned to leave the room, he found himself hesitating at the door, glancing back at you one last time.

“Sleep well, my wife,” he whispered, the words barely audible, as if he were ashamed of them.

And with that, Judge Richard Turpin left the room, the door closing softly behind him. In the quiet solitude of his grand mansion, he allowed himself to care—just this once. Because even a man as cold and cruel as Turpin could not entirely extinguish the small flicker of warmth that your presence had ignited within him.

Turpin descended the grand staircase of his opulent mansion, his mind still occupied with the image of you lying feverish in the bed upstairs. The cool marble beneath his boots was a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin that lingered on his fingertips. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the flickering candlelight cast long, ominous shadows against the ornate walls, giving the mansion an eerie, almost foreboding atmosphere.

Turpin’s expression hardened as he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his sharp hazel eyes narrowing with renewed focus. The brief moment of tenderness he had shown upstairs was an anomaly, one he intended to swiftly bury beneath the weight of his usual demeanor. There was no room for weakness in his life, no place for sentimentality. He was a man of power, of control, and he would not allow himself to be swayed by fleeting emotions.

Reaching the servant’s quarters, Turpin’s presence was immediately noted by the staff, who scrambled to stand at attention, their eyes cast downward in a display of submission. He surveyed them with a cold, calculating gaze, his hooked nose casting a long shadow across his face. The silence in the room was suffocating, broken only by the crackling of the fireplace.

"Prepare a vegetable soup," Turpin commanded, his baritone voice cutting through the air like a knife. There was no kindness in his tone, only the strict expectation that his orders would be followed without question. "It is to be brought to the mistress’s room in one hour. Ensure it is hot and well-prepared. I will not tolerate any mistakes."

The servants nodded quickly, their heads bobbing in unison like frightened animals. "Yes, milord," one of them managed to stammer, her voice trembling under his withering gaze.

Turpin’s lip curled in disdain as he dismissed them with a wave of his hand, the gesture sharp and final. "Go," he barked, his voice laced with impatience. "Do not waste my time with your idle chatter. And be silent when you deliver it—she needs rest, not your simpering voices."

The servants scurried away, eager to carry out his orders and avoid further ire. Turpin watched them go, his expression one of cold satisfaction. He had no tolerance for incompetence, especially not in his own household. He expected nothing less than perfection from those under his command, and he had long since trained his staff to fear the consequences of failure.

With the matter settled, Turpin turned on his heel and made his way toward his office. The echo of his footsteps filled the empty hallways, a sound that had long since become synonymous with his presence in the mansion. His office was a place of solitude, a sanctuary where he could immerse himself in his work and shut out the world. It was here that he plotted and schemed, where he wielded his power like a weapon, ensuring that all who crossed him would come to regret it.

The heavy wooden door to his office creaked as he pushed it open, the dark mahogany panels gleaming in the firelight. He stepped inside, the scent of leather and aged parchment filling his senses as he closed the door behind him, sealing himself off from the rest of the mansion.

Turpin crossed the room, his hand brushing against the rows of leather-bound books that lined the walls. These books contained the knowledge and the power that he had amassed over the years, a testament to his cunning and ruthlessness. He pulled out a chair from behind his imposing desk and sat down, the leather creaking softly under his weight.

As he settled into his chair, his thoughts drifted back to you, lying weak and feverish in the bed upstairs. The memory of your soft, flushed skin and the sound of your labored breathing stirred something dark within him, a desire that he had kept tightly controlled, yet one that threatened to break free.

Turpin’s fingers drummed against the surface of the desk as he considered the irony of it all—here you were, so fragile and delicate, dependent on his care, yet entirely unaware of the depths of his cruelty, of the twisted thoughts that lurked behind his stern exterior. You saw him as a protector, perhaps even as a husband who might care for you, but in truth, he was far more complicated than that.

The power he wielded over you, over everyone in his life, was intoxicating, and it pleased him to see how easily you had submitted to his authority. You were his wife in name, but in reality, you were his possession, a beautiful object that he could mold and control as he saw fit. The thought sent a thrill down his spine, and he leaned back in his chair, a dark smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

But there was something else too, something that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts—a need for something more, something that went beyond mere control. The way you had looked up at him earlier, your eyes filled with fear and uncertainty, had stirred a desire in him that he had not felt in a long time—a desire not just to possess you, but to break you, to see you fully submit to him in every way.

He imagined you again, lying in that bed, but this time, it was not illness that weakened you, but him. You would look up at him with those same fearful eyes, your body trembling under his touch, as he took what he wanted, what he believed was rightfully his. The thought of it sent a wave of heat through him, and he could feel his control slipping, his mind drifting into darker, more forbidden territories.

Turpin’s breath quickened as he considered the possibilities, his hand tightening around the armrest of his chair. He knew he should suppress these thoughts, should focus on his work, but the temptation was too strong, too alluring to resist. You were upstairs, weak and vulnerable, completely at his mercy, and the idea of taking advantage of that vulnerability was intoxicating.

He rose from his chair, his movements deliberate, as if each step required a conscious effort to suppress the darker impulses that urged him forward. He exited the office, the heavy door creaking as it closed behind him, and made his way back upstairs to the bedroom. The corridors were silent, the only sound the soft padding of his boots against the thick carpets that lined the floors.

When he reached the bedroom door, he paused, his hand resting on the doorknob as he took a deep breath. He had come here with the intention of taking advantage of your weakened state, to claim what he believed was his by right. Yet now, as he stood on the threshold, something gave him pause. A part of him—a small, buried part—whispered that this was not the way, that he was about to cross a line from which there would be no return.

He opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking softly as he stepped inside. The room was just as he had left it, dimly lit and quiet, with only the soft rustle of the curtains and the faint crackle of the fire breaking the silence. You were still asleep, your breathing shallow and even, the cool cloth he had placed on your forehead still in place.

Turpin approached the bed, his footsteps soundless on the thick carpet. He stood over you for a moment, his hazel eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face, the way your lashes fluttered slightly against your flushed cheeks. You were so peaceful, so vulnerable in your sleep, and the sight of you stirred something deep within him—a protectiveness that was at odds with the darker desires that had driven him here.

Slowly, he reached out and took hold of the edge of the blanket, gently pulling it back to reveal your form beneath. You were dressed in a simple nightgown, the fabric clinging to your feverish skin, and the sight of you like this—so soft, so helpless—made his breath hitch in his throat.

He hesitated, his hand hovering above your chest, the warmth of your body radiating up to meet his cool fingers. His intention had been clear when he first entered the room, but now, as he stood there, the reality of what he was about to do washed over him like a cold wave. You stirred slightly in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping your lips, and he felt a pang of guilt pierce his heart.

Turpin’s hand trembled as he lowered it to your throat, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate line of your collarbone. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it was enough to wake you from your fevered slumber. Your eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused at first, before they slowly came into focus on his face.

“Richard?” you murmured, your voice weak and confused as you looked up at him, your brows furrowing slightly in concern.

Turpin froze, the sound of his name on your lips jolting him back to reality. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, his breath caught in his throat as he stared down at you, his hand still resting lightly against your throat. He had come here with every intention of taking advantage of you, yet now, as you looked up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, he found that he couldn’t go through with it.

“Shh,” he finally whispered, his voice rough and strained as he pulled his hand away from your throat, the touch lingering longer than he had intended. “Go back to sleep.”

You blinked up at him, your expression softening as you realized who he was. “Richard… I… I was dreaming,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep as you reached up to touch his hand, the gesture weak but full of trust. “Are you… are you staying?”

Turpin hesitated, his mind racing as he tried to reconcile the conflicting emotions within him. He had never been a man who showed kindness easily, yet something about the way you looked at him now, with such vulnerability, made it impossible for him to refuse.

“I’m here,” he said gruffly, his tone rougher than he intended as he gently pushed your hand back down to your side. ��Now, rest.”

You nodded weakly, the tension in your body easing as you let out a soft sigh. “Thank you, Richard,” you whispered.

Turpin stood there for a moment longer, his hand hovering above your head as if uncertain whether to touch you again or pull away. Finally, he reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, the motion careful and deliberate. He had never been one to show affection, but for some reason, this small gesture felt right.

You kept looking at him, your feverish eyes fixed on his stern face, searching for something that you couldn’t quite name. Turpin, ever the gruff and stoic man, shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. His hazel eyes, usually so sharp and unyielding, flickered with irritation as he glanced away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Close your eyes and sleep,” he grumbled, his tone laced with impatience. “You need rest.”

You didn’t respond immediately, still watching him as if trying to decipher a puzzle. There was a strange vulnerability in your gaze, one that made him feel uneasy, as though you were peeling back layers of his carefully constructed armor with just a look.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you whispered after a moment, your voice soft but determined. The usual hesitance was gone, replaced by a quiet resolve. “Not anymore.”

Turpin’s brow furrowed at your words, and he turned back to you with a frown. “What nonsense is this?” he muttered, his tone harsher than intended. “You’re ill. Sleep is what you need.”

You hesitated, biting your lower lip as you considered your next words. There was something about this moment, something fragile and fleeting, that made you want to reach out to him in a way you had never dared before. Perhaps it was the fever that emboldened you, or perhaps it was the sight of him sitting there, rigid and uncomfortable, yet not leaving your side, that made you feel braver than usual.

“Richard…” you began, your voice trembling slightly as you looked down at your hands, wringing them nervously in your lap. “Could we… could we cuddle? Just for a little while?”

Turpin stiffened at your request, his eyes widening in surprise before narrowing into a glare. “No,” he replied flatly, his voice brooking no argument as he crossed his arms even tighter against his chest. “That’s out of the question.”

You nodded, but your gaze didn’t drop. Instead, you scooted closer to him on the bed, ignoring the way his eyes flashed with irritation as you did so. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you knew you were being bold—recklessly so—but there was a need within you, a desperate longing for comfort that you couldn’t suppress.

Before Turpin could react, you reached out and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tentative hug. He froze instantly, his body going rigid beneath your touch, as though the very idea of such an embrace was utterly foreign to him. And perhaps it was, for you had never done this before, had never even thought to. But the need for closeness, for warmth, was stronger than the fear of his reaction.

For a long, tense moment, Turpin didn’t move. He sat there, stiff as a board, his hazel eyes wide with shock, staring down at the top of your head where it rested against his chest. His mind raced, trying to process what was happening, trying to reconcile this unexpected display of affection with the cold, controlled life he had always led.

“W-What are you doing?” he finally stammered, his baritone voice uncharacteristically shaky.

You didn’t answer immediately, your grip on him tightening just slightly as you buried your face against the coarse fabric of his vest. You felt his heartbeat beneath your cheek, strong and steady, and it brought you a strange sense of comfort, as though in that moment, the world beyond this room didn’t exist.

“I just needed… some comfort,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his chest. “Just for a little while.”

Turpin blinked, utterly bewildered by your words. Comfort? It was a concept so alien to him, so far removed from the cold, calculated existence he had built for himself, that he didn’t know how to respond. He had never been one for physical affection, had never seen the point of it, and yet here you were, clinging to him like he was some kind of lifeline.

He opened his mouth to protest, to tell you to let go, but the words died on his lips as he felt the slight tremor in your body. It wasn’t just the fever that made you shake; it was something more, something deeper. And for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, that realization softened something inside him.

With a reluctant sigh, Turpin slowly, almost awkwardly, brought his arms down from his chest and placed them around you, his movements stiff and uncertain. He had never done this before, had never held someone like this, and it felt strange—both uncomfortable and oddly reassuring at the same time.

“There,” he muttered gruffly, his voice lacking its usual edge. “But just for a little while.”

You smiled against his chest, the small victory warming you more than any blanket could. His embrace was far from tender, but it was enough. It was more than you had ever expected from him, and in that moment, it was everything.

Turpin, for his part, remained silent, his eyes staring straight ahead as he tried to ignore the strange, fluttering sensation in his chest. He told himself this was just a temporary indulgence, that he was simply allowing you to calm yourself so that you could get the rest you needed. But as the minutes ticked by, and your breathing grew slow and even against him, he found that he didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, his voice softening despite himself.

You didn’t answer—your breathing had already evened out, and Turpin realized with a start that you had fallen asleep in his arms. He looked down at you, his expression softening as he took in the peaceful look on your face, the way your body had relaxed completely against him.

“Foolish girl,” he murmured, though there was no malice in his words, only a kind of reluctant affection that he didn’t quite know what to do with.

For a long time, Turpin remained there, holding you in the dim light of the room, his stern demeanor giving way to a strange, unfamiliar warmth. He knew that when morning came, he would return to his usual self—distant, cold, and unyielding. But for tonight, he allowed himself this small moment of softness, this brief indulgence in something he had long denied himself.

Because even the grumpiest of old men, it seemed, could not entirely resist the simple comfort of holding someone close.