#we've had this trip planned for like two months

[fox-mulder-gets-pegged]

I'm going to kill all my irl friends. You are all gonna see me on the fucking news.

[wileys-russo]

Wally, “they just called me your girlfriend and you didn’t correct them” at a cafe or smth please

correction II l.wälti

"-and you're sure you know where we're going?" you asked skeptically, shrugging on your puffer jacket and grabbing your scarf from the hat rack.

"of course i do! i am the local here, no?" the swiss woman huffed, raising an eyebrow questioningly as you wrapped your scarf around your neck and shrugged.

"i wasn't aware you grew up on the mountains in the middle of nowhere. were you raised by wolves?" you teased the girl who mocked you and pulled a face, pulling your beanie down to cover your face.

"we are not in the middle of nowhere, we are at a ski resort and going for a walk on a marked trail. it will be fine!"

turns out, those were famous last words.

"we've passed this tree trunk before." you narrowed your eyes, jutting out your hip and looking it up and down. "how would you know that!" lia paused beside you and scoffed, hands on her own hips.

"easy. you tripped over it, see? your boot mark in the snow." you pointed out, squatting down and outlining the partially covered up print, pointing then to lias own boot with a satisfied nod.

"i tripped over? you pushed me!" lia argued as you glanced up with a sly smile. "me? i would never dare." you gasped sarcastically, standing up straight and backing away slightly, noticing lia now had one hand hidden behind her back.

you weren't quite sure what the two of you were, close friends to say the least, though you'd be lying if you hadn't thought about becoming more, wondering if lia had too.

it had started only a few months ago, what had grown to be a comfortable and dependable friendship with the midfielder seemed to shift one night, a group of your teammates over for dinner all but lia had headed off to their own homes.

the two of you had been locked into a very heated game of monopoly, warned by your captain you had training the next morning but both of your competitive natures meant you weren't stopping until someone won.

well that was the plan, until lia, who was surely set to lose, was suddenly just far too tired to continue, insisting the two of you call it a draw and ignoring your accusations she was only saying this so she didn't lose.

she'd wound up staying the night, and not bothered to change the sheets in your spare bedroom she'd crashed with you, only when you awoke it was to the pair of you much closer than you'd been when you drifted off, limbs entangled and lia's face so close to yours you could count the freckles dotting her nose if you wished.

since then you noticed the pair of you, who'd always seemed to gravitate toward one another, had somehow grown even closer, lia seeming to spend the night more often, and every morning you'd wake up wrapped up together, but never did you really speak about it.

from then on it felt a little like the two of you were doing some sort of dance, you'd get close, then closer, then right as it seemed like maybe something a little less than friendly might happen one of you spun away like a top, and a little while later the cycle would repeat itself again.

then came the winning of the continental cup, and the alcohol fueled dance party that carried on till the early hours of the morning, the pair of you both crashing at leahs house too drunk to remember your own addresses to add to the uber.

and around three in the morning, curled up together on the sofa in leahs living room, the pair of you shared a very drunken kiss, a habit which seemed to follow you both though a habit which only raised its head when your bloodstreams pumped with alcohol.

then the next morning would come the fake amnesia, neither one of you choosing to bring up your activities the night before but also not making a choice to refrain from letting them happen again.

and just like that a whole new step was added to your little dance routine.

a lack of new years plans had you roped into lia's, the girl forever eager to gush about her home country was all the more excited to be able to actually show it to you, meeting up with a few of her friends after she'd picked you up from the airport two days after christmas.

"say that you tripped me." lia ordered, her slow steps forward matching yours which moved backwards, hand still hidden behind her back, your lips curling into a smile at the accent which stuck to her words.

"i was raised not to tell lies, wälti." you grinned, a slight mistetp having you tripping over a stick hidden beneath the pilowy white surface of the snow trodden ground, and with that little wobble, the swiss woman struck.

"oh? well then since i was raised by wolves..." you squealed as the ball of snow exploded against the side of your face, lia's own lit up with a shit eating grin, a belt of laughter echoing through the air.

"this means war."

somewhere along the way of your running and dodging and throwing it would seem you'd stumbled back into the ski village, the trail left behind you as you felt your back knock into someone.

"oh god i am so-" but your words fell short as a snowball hit you in the back of the head, the man you'd bumped into giving you an odd look and continuing on his way.

"oh lia it went down the back of my neck!" you whined with a groan, wiggling uncomfortably as the ice cold water trickled down your spine, your scarf now also damp and useless as it was balled up in your hands.

"entschuldigung. come on, let us warm back up!" the woman laughed, arm slung over your shoulders and an apologetic kiss pressed to your cheek, marching the pair of you toward the nearest cafe.

"now will you admit that you got us lost?" you accused, bumping your shoulder into lia's after she'd ordered coffees for the pair of you. "no! i knew where were going the whole time." lia declined as you scoffed and she gave you a cheeky smile.

"you absolutely did not." "i did!" "you did not!" "i did. we got back here, no?" "no thanks to you!"

your little argument was paused by lia's name being called out as she pulled your beanie down over your face again and hurried to the counter to collect them.

"oo wait they have chocolate syrup!" you spied eagerly as lia handed you your coffee, darting off back to the counter as she watched with a smile before looking around the crowded room for a free table.

unable to find one she made her way to a couple sat at a six seater, politely asking if they'd mind sharing which neither one of them did, lia finding you chatting away happily to the barista, catching your eye with a little wave.

you'd made enough polite conversation with the couple beside you to warrant them bidding their goodbyes as they had a ski lesson booked in, though you'd excused yourself to use the bathroom when they arose from the table.

however you did catch the very last of their farewell as you returned toward the table, messing about with the zipper of your puffer which was jammed, a frustrated huff leaving your lips.

"-and tell your girlfriend we said good luck for the champions league for both of you. up the arsenal!" the woman cheered before her partner who appeared a little embarrassed tugged her away, lia laughing and waving them off.

"well we can tell leah that we have converted some non football fans into gooners!" lia teased as you joined her back at the table, both of your coffees long finished and a slice of chocolate cake shared between you.

"they just called me your girlfriend, and you didn't correct them." you stated as you took your seat, lia's cheeks flushing with colour. "i-well yes." she confirmed, a little lost for words and clearly flustered.

"does that maybe mean if i asked you to get dinner tonight, it could be a date?" you weren't sure where the sudden burst of confidence came from, the fear of rejection simmering at the surface the more seconds ticked by without an answer.

"or that was a stupid idea and-" "yes."

"yes?" you asked, wide eyed in surprise as now your own cheeks seemed to flush a rosy pink. "yes. its a date!" lia smiled shyly, knee knocking into yours as a few moments of comfortable silence passed between you.

"so does this mean now you will admit you got us lost?"

[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 11

Summary: James has had time to think during the days he'd been away and through this, has come to a shocking revelation.

CW: Swearing, creepy man being unnerving (nothing inappropriate happens though).

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

This is a shorter one but I just wanted to get something out. I have more of a solid plan now of what I want to happen next to stay tuned for some more updates soon!

--

You started to feel better over the next few days. Remus checked on you periodically to make sure you were making progress while Sirius hovered awkwardly, not quite sure what he was supposed to do whenever the two of you happened to be in the same vicinity.

You weren't sure what had come over him recently, but things between the two of you had been stilted to say the least.

By Wednesday you were back on your feet and back at work, meaning Remus' job was done, however, you desperately hoped that things between the two of you would continue to be civil in the aftermath. Who knows? Maybe you'd even become friends.

James was also getting home from his trip today and you were bubbling with a combination of nerves and excitement. You'd found yourself missing him while he was away. Everything had been strange, to say the least and James was the person out of all your roommates who you were the most comfortable around by far. He just had this light energy about him that was able to balance everything out around your house and without it, things had just felt off. You couldn't quite place your finger on what it was but James Potter just had a way of putting you at ease.

Although, you couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for wanting him there for your own selfish purposes. You knew things had been particularly rough for him after the revelation at New Years and you knew he needed this time to get away from everything and clear his head.

You pondered this concept as you sat back in your desk chair, pen pressed into your cheek and eyes gazing off to nowhere. When did things become so complicated? you thought to yourself.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Mary sang, sliding across the linoleum office floor on her own chair. Mary was always pretty but you took note of it today in particular. Her hair was pulled up on top of her head in a tidy bun and she had a burgundy lipstick on, one that was a departure from the usual neutral tones she went for at work.

You raised a brow at her, choosing to pass by her question.

"You look lovely. Got plans tonight?"

Mary bit her lip as she often did when she was excited.

"It's Lily and I's four month anniversary tonight! I know it sounds silly to celebrate it but if I'm being honest, it's kind of a big deal! Today marks the longest official relationship I've been in!"

"Oh my gosh! Mary, that's wonderful!" you chirped. Then you paused. "Hold on, what do you mean 'official relationship'?"

Mary sighed. "Well, technically there was this guy in high school that I talked to for like a year over Snapchat but he lived in America and we never met in person so it doesn't really count."

You rolled your eyes at her fondly. "You had an internet boyfriend?"

She gave you a gentle slap on the shoulder. "What? I was like fourteen!"

"Okay, fine. Whatever. Congratulations anyway," you replied.

"Thanks girl! Now tell me," she scooted forward slightly on her chair, leaning in as if to share a secret. "What's going on with you and Sirius?"

You sighed thickly. "Unfortunately, there's nothing to tell."

"Really?" she looked surprised. "So you still haven't talked about anything that happened on New Years... or you know, before that?"

You shook your head. "Nope. In fact, honestly, we've barely talked at all recently. It's like he's avoiding me or something."

"That's is odd," Mary muttered. "I mean Sirius isn't usually known for being subtle. For some reason I had it in my head that maybe he would've gone all prince charming and come to your aid while you were ill," she chuckled.

"Ha! No, none of that. Every time we were in the same room, he'd just stare at me like I had two heads and then stutter out some excuse to rush away."

Mary let out a genuine laugh at this. "Yeah, actually that does sound like him. He's uh, not really much of a caretaker."

"No. Well, actually, it was... um, Remus who ended up doing most of the caretaking," you muttered bashfully.

Her eyebrows shot up like rockets. "I'm sorry, WHAT? Did I just hear you say Remus, the man that supposedly can't stand you, looked after you while you were unwell this last week?"

You shrugged but you couldn't deny the way your cheeks warmed at the thought. "He was quite wonderful actually."

A playful smirk overtook her. "Yeah, I bet he was. What? Did he like, bring you soup, and stroke your hair until you fell asleep?"

"Shut up," you joked. "You read too many romance novels."

"Hey! It's not my fault that you're living out the plot of New Girl!"

"You know, it actually kind of is, right?"

She shrugged. "Well, maybe that was the plan all along. I think Remus would definitely be Nick-"

"Anyway," you stated pointedly, before her comparison could get too deep. "You should probably get going. It's after 5 and you don't want to be late for your special date tonight!"

"Oh, shit! You're right," she exclaimed, jumping from her chair and racing to grab her coat.

You chuckled to yourself as you watcher her scramble for her things, calling out a hurried "goodbye" as she headed for the exit.

You took your time packing up that night, both having nowhere to be and also not looking forward to going home. You wondered if maybe Sirius would be out working tonight but you doubted it since James was supposed to have arrived home today and you suspected they'd want to spend some time together.

"Are you heading off now then?"

You abruptly turned on your heel, eyes wide as you noticed Glenn standing closely behind you. You hated when he did that. He was always creeping up on you when you were distracted.

You gave him an awkward smile, hoping he would say a quick goodbye and then leave you be.

He returned the gesture broadly, flashing his perfectly pearly white teeth in a way that you could tell usually worked to make girls swoon. It didn't, however, work so well on you.

"Yeah. Just finishing up now."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Ah. Well I see that Mary has made an early exit. Do you need some company walking out?"

You cringed internally. There was something just so artificial about him. Like he was constantly putting on an act, displaying qualities that he thought people liked to see. But you could see right through it and honestly, it left a bad taste in your mouth.

"That's very kind but I'm okay by myself."

He shook his head stubbornly. "Nonsense! What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go alone in the cold?"

You restrained yourself from rolling your eyes. Clearly it wasn't going to be so easy to shake him off.

"Okay, then," you relented unwittingly. "Lets go."

The walk from your office on the seventh floor down to the front exit was particularly awkward. Glenn hovered at your side, not saying much but just sending you that unnerving smile of his every so often. As you approached the front steps, you were more then relieved to see a familiar figure waiting by the door.

"James! What are you doing here?"

He looked up from his phone, flashing you a genuine grin, one that made your heart feel warm, instead of causing bile to want to rise in your throat the way Glenn's did.

"Hey!"

He approached with rapid footsteps, engulfing you in his warm arms. You relaxed into his hold for a moment, savoring the feeling.

You pulled away at the sound of a throat clearing beside you. Glenn was looking between the two of you with an unreadable expression.

"Oh! Sorry," James corrected himself, only then noticing the other man. "I'm James, Y/n's roommate. Nice to meet you."

He stuck a hand out towards Glenn, which the latter man shook with a reluctant hesitation.

"Glenn Mulciber. We work together."

You didn't like the way the man was looking at James, something akin to jealously flashing across his eyes in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Well, thanks for walking me out, Glenn but James and I'd better be going. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, right. Okay," was all he said before he turned on his heel and stalked away, his demeanor suddenly very cold.

"Well, he's an odd sort of person," James observed as the two of you began the journey home.

"I'm not a fan of his, to tell you the truth," you responded. "He's weird. He kind of creeps me out."

"Hmm," James muttered thoughtfully, although you could tell his mind was elsewhere.

"You don't have to keep coming to pick me up from work, you know? I'm perfectly capable of making it home myself."

James shrugged. "I know, I just like spending time with you."

You felt your heart swim at his words and had to turn your gaze away from him in the hopes that he wouldn't see the embarrassment on your face.

"Well, um... how was your trip?"

"Good. Yeah. It was good."

He was fiddling with the hem of his coat, looking vaguely off into the distance as he spoke to you. Something seemed off about him. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what was going on.

"Is everything okay?" you questioned. "You seem nervous or something."

"Um, well," he hesitated for a moment before turning to face you. "Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

You felt your heart sink into your stomach as a slew of worst case scenarios began to run through your mind. You did your best to keep composed.

"Okay, what's up?"

James released a heavy breath as if he was preparing himself for the words to follow.

"So, while I was away, I had a lot of time to think about things,"

"What kinds of things?"

"Well, you know, just everything that's been going on. When I found out about Lily and Mary back on New Years Eve, I was heartbroken..."

You sighed feeling a rush of sympathy. "Yeah, James about that, I'm really sorry. You shouldn't have had to find out that way, I-"

"No! No, it's okay!" he interrupted. "What I was going to say was actually that I was heartbroken at first. But then the more I thought about it, the more I realised, I've been in love with Lily for so long that I think at some point I just started to like the idea of us together more than I actually liked her, if that makes sense."

You sent him a look of confusion.

"That's not to say I don't like her of course," he rushed to amend. "She's a great friend and obviously she's beautiful and a wonderful person and all that but I think that I just got so comfortable with wanting her that I didn't realise when I didn't really want her anymore..."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the boy’s rambling. "James, what are you trying to say?"

Then he stopped walking suddenly and you followed suit. He turned to look at you then, his face serious and eyes ablaze with an unfamiliar friction.

"I think what I'm trying to say is... that night made me realise that I have feelings for someone else."

In that moment, despite the cold of the street, heat began to swirl around you. You felt energy of an unknown source drawing you together in a magnetic pull as James gazed down at you with a look of yearning clouding his dark eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up at him. Your eyes raked over every inch of his face; his sweet smile, the dimples in his cheeks, the stupid curls that he couldn't contain no matter how hard he tried. He was beautiful.

Then, without warning, he leaned in and your lips connected.

It was like the world faded around you. The noise of the cars and the crowds and the hustle and bustle of London in the evening, all just melted away. You didn't care that you were standing in the middle of the street, with icy tendrils of wind piercing your skin. You didn't care that you had a rock in your shoe or that your hair was blowing in your face. In that moment, all you cared about was him and the feeling of his soft lips against yours.

It wasn't desperate and passionate the way it had been with Sirius. No, James' kiss was sweeter, gentler, filled with warmth and comfort just like he was.

When you pulled back, James had a playful smirk on his face. He licked his lips, looking down at you affectionately as he used a finger to push his glasses up on his nose.

"So," he muttered. "Will you go out with me, then?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course I will, you idiot."

He laughed a little and intertwined your fingers with his own.

"Okay good. I just wanted to make sure."

You scoffed as you began to walk once more, hand in hand and smiles painted on your swollen lips.

--

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy @navs-bhat @shushbruv @magicwithaknife @eeviee4 @notapoetjustscar @gugggu6gvai @robertsmithclone @ilovesugurugeto69 @taytayy178 @its-notkiee @bugworldsworld @switchingfandomslikecrazy @evangelquill, @delusional-4-fake-people, @ch4rlotte35, @insideoutjulie, @hiireadstuff, @laniirackssss, @starrystormwritings, @strategicsweetheart, @1800brat, @sammyreid, @frootloops1213, @ill-be-okay-soon-enough, @loveelylani, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @that-gay-person-27, @serenadingtigers, @lily-mylove, @arielthee-potterhead, @treefairy-28, @happycatanxie, @lettertovera, @captainlunaxmen, @ellieshifts3, @marauderslover18, @hidontmindtheintrovert

[alchemistc]

"Evan's not here," Tommy says, and Eddie scowls at him as he pushes past Tommy, already aiming for the kitchen as he hitches the six pack he'd brought with him up under his armpit. It'd been a - a thing. A 'my best friend and my new friend are too busy sucking face to spend every spare moment distracting me from my problems' thing, a thing where Eddie sort of finally understood exactly why Buck had hip checked him on the basketball court months ago. He wants his best friend back. He wants the ease of his friendship with Tommy back.

Which is - Christ, he's selfish, is the thing. A month without Chris there to keep him occupied and Eddie has had some startling realizations about himself. ("You're not selfish, Eddie, you're the most selfless person I know." from Buck and "So fix it," from Tommy, a rare night out with the both of them because he'd headed date night off at the pass by asking Tommy to go out for drinks before he and Buck could make plans without him).

"My world doesn't revolve around Buck," Eddie tells him, and screws the cap off a beer to hand it to Tommy. Tommy's doing that judgmental face he gets when he wants to say something bitchy but hasn't put the words in the right order yet. And - Eddie's not lying. Buck is a fixed point, an ever present life-line, but he's not the fucking sun.

Neither is Chris, apparently, which is news to Eddie and he's - spiralling, still. Quietly, calmly, and he's only punched one hole in the wall on a bad night.

"You ever go to Frank?" Eddie asks, like Frank is the only therapist in the greater LA area, and Tommy rolls his eyes, disappears long enough for the muted sound of the television to go quiet.

When he comes back Eddie's reading the label on his beer bottle

"Apparently I resent you," Eddie says, and Tommy chuffs a laugh.

"Apparently?"

"No, I -." The words had been just as hard two hours ago. This little trip was his own design, he'd been told specifically to sit in it for a while but Christ, an hour a week isn't enough time to talk through his issues and it's not like he can tell Buck he resents him for finding something he's happy and stable and solid in. So. Tommy it is. "You and Buck are good together. I'm happy for you both. I am."

Tommy settles against a countertop with his hip digging into the Formica. His kitchen has gained a dutch oven that looks suspiciously like the one Buck has been showing Eddie for like six months that he couldn't justify the cost of because he's not around enough to use it as much as he'd like.

"I'm not usually the one without his shit together," Eddie says.

"No offense, Eddie, but I thought the whole point of therapy was you realizing you rarely have your shit together."

Also true. He's - usually better at hiding it though. Kim was a joker stacked up on a wobbly house of cards and he'd known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she'd bring the whole thing tumbling to the ground. Mass casualty event. No survivors.

"You make each other better people," Eddie says, which is the wrong thing to say apparently because Tommy scowls.

"If you wanna completely ignore all the work we've both put into ourselves," he snipes, and - yeah. Fair. Buck's been in therapy for years now. Every once in a while he'll pull something out of his ass that makes Eddie's skin itch - something so mystifyingly self-aware that it makes Eddie want to claw into his chest cavity and rip out his fucking heart. And Tommy - well, he doesn't know much but it's not like Tommy's the paragon of perfection. He's worked through some shit. Is still working through shit, if the aftermath of his and Buck's first real fight is any indication.

"I've never been with someone who makes me want to work on myself," Eddie admits, and the lines around Tommy's eyes shift. He sighs.

"Never gonna find that if you don't want it for yourself."

Yeah. Frank's said as much. It's just - Eddie doesn't have a starting point. Tommy had the whole hiding his true self thing, and Buck had the dead-brother-shitty-parents thing, and he's whittling them both down to the sharp edges of themselves in his mind, which isn't entirely fair but it's easier than trying to confront what the fuck his own problem is. Dead wife, his kid in another state, a contentious relationship with his father, a whole backlog of PTSD he's never really confronted head on. Weird feelings cropping up about a religion he thought he'd left in the dust and sand of Afghanistan and a hole he's been trying to fill up with other people since - well, he doesn't even know since when.

Tommy's got his dog tags laying in the bottom of an empty fruit bowl on his kitchen table. Eddie's never seen them before, and some part of him knows Tommy'd brought them out for a conversation with Buck he'll never hear himself, and he aches. He doesn't want them, but he wants what they have, wants to be able to talk about the difficult shit without closing in on himself, wants to have someone to come home to, wants -

"I spent six months imagining my therapist's head exploding every time she made me talk about something uncomfortable," Tommy tells him, and takes a long drag off his beer. For the first time since he'd knocked on Tommy's door, Eddie actually feels a little bad about interrupting his night, but that just leaves him spiralling some more because Eddie usually feels bad about everything, all the time, so why hadn't he felt guilty about this until now? And why does he feel guilty about not feeling guilty?

"I just want him to fix me," Eddie says, and Tommy laughs. Laughs hard and long enough that Eddie's feeling offended. Off kilter and pissed off and -

"You're not a single loose wire, Eddie. Can't just replace a cable and have a clean slate. You gotta change your oil and replace the spark plugs and top up the coolant, over and over again until you die."

It's the sort of metaphor Eddie'd like to lob across the field of engagement just to watch it get shot to pieces. It's apt, though.

"Feels like the whole engines gotta go," Eddie tells him "Transmission's shot and my catalytic converter keeps getting stolen and the mufflers been welded back on so many times that it's half-solder."

"Christ," Tommy says, which. Yeah. Exactly. "Well you can't exactly send yourself to the junk yard for scrap and buy a newer model."

"Buck does," Eddie snaps, and Tommy rolls his eyes. He'd been there the last time Buck brought up his 1.0 days.

"Half the time a system update patches ten bugs and creates twenty more."

"So Buck's buggy, is what you're saying."

He rolls his tongue over his teeth. "You are running off faulty software and you've been refusing to update to the new version because you heard it'd burn the battery faster, is what I'm saying."

Eddie doesn't have a whole lot of charge to begin with. And the metaphors are starting to muddle in his brain, too many different ideas battling around when he's already spent an ornery hour talking to Frank and another trying to convince himself he doesn't resent his best friend for accepting his own fucking flaws and working on them.

Tommy sets the beer bottle down. Eyes Eddie for a moment, and Eddie wonders how often he levels that look on Buck, how Buck feels when Tommy flays him open and digs through his insides. "You wanna go hit something for a bit?" he asks, and Eddie nods so quickly he nearly smacks his nose into the brim of the bottle in his own hand. He's about done feeling his feelings, for the moment. He'll probably end up being annoyed that Tommy makes him wrap his hands before he takes some aggression out on the bag hung up in the corner of Tommy's garage, but maybe when Tommy gets annoyed with him and does that takedown maneuver that knocks the wind out of Eddie's lungs when they're sparring he'll let that go.

Tommy flicks his forehead on the way to grab him something to wear. "That's for calling my boyfriend buggy, jackass," he says, and laughs himself all the way down the hall when Eddie splutters after him.

His bedroom door snicks shut by the time Eddie's recovered enough to remind him that he'd been Eddie's friend first.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : UNBREAKABLE BONDS : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Angst but fluff at the end :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: RPF

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Emotional Conflict, Breakup and Separation, Pregnancy and Unplanned parenthood, Emotional Reconciliation

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: When Hugh reveals he doesn’t want more children, it creates tension in your otherwise happy relationship, leading to a painful breakup. Months later, you discover you’re pregnant and choose to keep the baby, keeping the news from Hugh. An unexpected encounter in the park brings the revelation, leading to a deeply emotional moment as you face the future and navigate the complexity of your new reality.

THE SUN STREAMED THROUGH THE CURTAINS, CASTING A WARM GLOW OVER THE ROOM AS YOU STRETCHED, FEELING THE SOFT SHEETS AGAINST YOUR SKIN.

Beside you, Hugh was still asleep, his arm draped protectively over you. You smiled, gently moving to not disturb him, and slipped out of bed.

Padding softly across the room, you made your way to the living room where a small, fluffy ball of energy was waiting for you. Loki, your playful husky puppy, greeted you with enthusiastic licks and a wagging tail. You laughed, scooping him up and nuzzling your nose into his soft fur.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as you settled on the couch, Loki curling up beside you. Life was perfect. You and Hugh had been together for two years, and every day felt like a new adventure. From spontaneous weekend getaways to quiet evenings spent cooking dinner together, your relationship was filled with love and laughter.

One lazy Sunday morning, as you both lounged on the patio with Loki playing at your feet, the conversation turned to the future. Hugh, sipping his coffee, mentioned how content he was with your little family. The words were casual, but they carried a weight that settled uncomfortably in your chest.

"What about kids?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant. "Do you ever think about having more?"

Hugh's expression softened, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I love you, and I love our life together," he said, reaching for your hand. "But I don't see myself having more children. I'm happy with the way things are."

You nodded, forcing a smile, but inside, your heart ached. You had always imagined having children of your own, and hearing Hugh's definitive answer left you feeling lost.

It started small, as many arguments do. You had been out shopping and found a charming little onesie, unable to resist its allure despite Hugh's stance. You brought it home, hiding it at the bottom of your shopping bag. But later that evening, as you both unpacked the groceries, Hugh found it.

"What's this?" he asked, holding up the tiny garment with a puzzled expression.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "I just thought it was cute. Maybe for the future..."

Hugh's face hardened. "We've talked about this. Why are you doing this?"

"It's just a piece of clothing, Hugh," you replied, feeling defensive. "Can't I have a little hope for the future?"

Hugh sighed, placing the onesie on the counter. "I thought we were on the same page. This feels like you're trying to push me into something I'm not ready for."

The conversation ended with a strained silence, the first crack in your seemingly perfect relationship.

The small arguments began to escalate. One evening, after a long day at work, you came home to find Hugh cooking dinner. The sight, once comforting, now brought a wave of resentment.

"Hey," he greeted you with a smile. "I made your favorite."

You forced a smile, the stress of the day weighing heavily on you. "Thanks."

As you sat down to eat, the conversation turned to your weekend plans. Hugh suggested a quiet weekend at home, but you had been looking forward to a trip you had planned to a nearby city.

"I just think it would be nice to get away," you said, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice.

"We've been traveling a lot lately," Hugh countered. "I thought it would be nice to relax here for a change."

The argument escalated quickly, voices rising as you both defended your positions. The dinner, meant to be a gesture of love, ended with you storming out of the room, tears of frustration streaming down your face.

The arguments became a regular occurrence, each one chipping away at the foundation of your relationship. The final straw came one night when Hugh came home late from a work event. You had prepared a special dinner, hoping to rekindle the romance that seemed to be slipping away.

Hugh walked in, looking tired. "I'm sorry, I got held up," he said, giving you a quick kiss.

"It's always something," you snapped, unable to hide your disappointment. "Do you even care about us anymore?"

Hugh's face fell. "Of course I do. But I have responsibilities, and sometimes that means being late."

"You always have an excuse," you shot back. "I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one fighting for this relationship."

The argument that followed was the worst yet. Harsh words were exchanged, emotions running high. Finally, Hugh said something that cut you to the core.

"Maybe we're just not right for each other anymore."

The silence that followed was deafening. The realization hit you both that despite the love you shared, your futures no longer aligned. With heavy hearts, you decided to part ways.

The weeks following the breakup were the hardest. You moved into a small apartment, taking Loki with you, and tried to rebuild your life. It was during this time that you started feeling unwell. A visit to the doctor confirmed what you had never expected: you were pregnant.

The news was both a shock and a beacon of hope. You decided to keep the baby, feeling a mixture of fear and excitement about the future. Telling Hugh, however, felt impossible. You didn't want him to feel trapped or obligated, especially after the difficult decision you both had made.

Months passed, and your belly grew rounder. Loki stayed by your side, his playful energy a constant source of comfort. You threw yourself into preparing for the baby, focusing on creating a warm and loving home.

One crisp autumn day, you were walking through the park with Loki when you heard a familiar voice. Turning, you saw Hugh standing a few feet away, his eyes wide with surprise and a mix of emotions.

"You... you're pregnant?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, unable to find the words. Hugh took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to burden you," you replied, tears forming. "We made a decision, and I didn't want to complicate things for you."

Hugh reached out, gently placing a hand on your swollen belly. "This is our baby," he said, his voice breaking. "I want to be a part of their life, and yours. If you'll let me."

In that moment, you realized that despite everything, the love you shared hadn't disappeared. It had simply been overshadowed by fear and uncertainty. With tears in your eyes, you nodded, allowing Hugh to pull you into a tight embrace.

"I never stopped loving you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but I can't imagine my life without you."

Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, the months of pain and loneliness dissolving in his arms. "I never stopped loving you either," you said, your voice choked with emotion. "I was so scared, Hugh. Scared of losing you, of raising this baby alone."

Hugh's eyes filled with tears as he looked at you, his voice trembling. "I was scared too. Scared of not being enough, of failing you. But seeing you here, carrying our child... I realize how much I want this, how much I want us."

Together, you walked through the park, Loki trotting happily beside you. The future was uncertain, but you knew that with Hugh by your side, you could face anything. And as you felt the baby kick for the first time, you knew that this new beginning was the start of something beautiful.

The days that followed were filled with a renewed sense of hope and love. Hugh moved back in, and you both prepared for the arrival of your baby, embracing the journey ahead with open hearts. You spent your evenings talking about names, decorating the nursery, and imagining the life you would build together.

When the day finally came, Hugh was by your side, holding your hand as you brought your child into the world. The moment you laid eyes on your baby, the room filled with love so powerful it brought you both to tears. Hugh kissed your forehead, his eyes filled with wonder and joy.

"We did it," he whispered, his voice trembling. "We made something so perfect."

As you held your baby close, you felt a sense of completeness you had never known before. The path to this moment had been fraught with pain and uncertainty, but it had led you to a place of profound love and happiness.

In the quiet moments, as you watched Hugh gently cradle your child, you realized that the struggles had only made your bond stronger. The love you shared was unbreakable, and together, you could overcome anything.

Your family, with Loki at your feet and your baby in your arms, was a testament to the resilience of love. It was a love that had weathered the storms and emerged stronger, ready to face whatever the future held. And as you looked into Hugh's eyes, you knew that this new beginning was only the start of a beautiful journey, one filled with endless love and unshakable unity.

(A/N) I hope you enjoyed the story and was what you expected! 🫶

If you want to be tagged in future works about Hugh Jackman let me know!

[wtfsteveharrington]

c l o s e t o y o u | carmen berzatto x reader

we've got so much history baby

description: set months after your breakup, you and carmen navigate what it means to be separated. you're trying to move on but waves always return to the ocean.

warnings: kinda angsty but also hurt/comfort. mutual pining even tho you're both trying to pretend it isn't there. miscommunication. kinda mentions of cheating if you squint but not really. no one has cheated but what to call this vibe irdk so! also mentions of using the bathroom if that bothers you!! it's quick!

smut warnings: oral/fingering reader receiving, spanking, dirty talk, hints of dom!carmy, unprotected sex but backshots for 'safety', sexting, semi public sex, lots of hickies/bruises talk bc carmy's a lil shit, multiple mentions of masturbation for both, reader has a drunk bar make out phase post breakup. reader is afab but no major descriptors used.

word count: almost 9.2k. the longest thing i've written so far!

a/n: dare i say this might be my favorite thing i've written possibly. aiming to make this a three part series but possibly could go longer.... i hope you enjoy <3

maybe you and i were meant to be / maybe i'm crazy

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen’s eyes are trained on you from the second your front door opens. His hands stalled halfway through taking off his jacket, only one shoe clattering across your entryway. 

“Where’ve you been tonight?” 

Which you have no choice but to shoot him a warning glance in response. It was late, you didn’t have the energy for a fight and that’s the complete opposite reason of why you texted him to come over. “I was on a date, Carmen.” 

He physically deflated at your answer. “Oh.”

You can’t meet his eye, can’t risk seeing his reaction. Would he be upset? Indifferent? It’s hard to decide which would be worse.

When you had broken up a few months ago the roles were clear - A case of ‘right person, wrong time’. He was busy, so endlessly busy. Working late into the night and heading in randomly during the morning or afternoon if he was needed. Which he could easily decide he was.

For as long as you could remember Carmen always took Tuesdays off to spend with you and get life in order. That way he had Monday to help the restaurant recover from the weekend and could trust them to handle what was, usually, an easier day. It was a tradition you took seriously and the two of you regularly made plans together every single Tuesday. Date nights, day trips, a mixture of adventures. It didn't matter what you were doing together so long as you had Tuesday to look forward to and help get you through the week.

Yet things started picking up. More celebrity dining requests, more magazine and tv interviews, more, more, more.

And it wasn’t that you misunderstood how important the restaurant was. Far from it. There were many nights where Carmen would come home a ball of anxiety because it took an hour longer than he anticipated and he knew it wasn’t fair to you. There would be a mess of apologies as he barreled in the door, bracing himself for a fight or to see your disappointed face. All of which you happily soothed by repeating constant mantras - The restaurant was his baby; you weren’t upset; take a deep breath; we’re okay. 

Then eventually you stopped saying you weren’t upset, stopped saying you two were okay. Eventually you stopped waiting up for him at all. At first Carmen would shower and climb into bed, confused if he should attempt to hold you or not. Your sleeping (Fine, sometimes you faked being asleep too) frame with your back turned to him. The blankets pulled tight around your body acting like a shield. 

Finally he just started sleeping on the couch. 

So yeah, the fall apart came quick. It was an avalanche neither of you could control nor did either of you want. There was still love between the two of you - But again it’s the right person, wrong time. 

You avoided each other for the following weeks. Carmen threw himself even more into work and you took a week of PTO to go visit one of your friends. He wondered if you were safe, you wondered why none of the people in the bar tasted the way he did. Your friend encouraged you with every sloppy make out conquest but it always ended there. You wanted to get Carmen out of your mind but weren’t ready for him to not be the last person who fully touched you. 

It didn’t work but does it ever?

Carmen watched your Insta far more than he should have. Risking way too many glances down at his phone during his free time to see if there were any updates about how you were doing. As if you’d post photos with long captions that mimicked a therapy session but he didn’t know where else to go. Sydney would report back what your story shows no matter how much Carm insisted he didn’t care. 

Because he didn’t, okay? He was fine. He knew it was for the best. Right? 

And then you posted a photo of yourself in a low cut top laughing in a bookstore. He zoomed in to see what titles you had in your arms as if they were clues and his eyes definitely didn’t linger on the swell of your cleavage. He didn’t think about how many nights he took for granted watching as your back arched up under him and you begged for more. He didn’t think about the way you’d crawl into bed at night and his mind would instantly rid itself of anything but you. He didn’t jack off to memories of you in the shower every morning because thinking about someone else, watching porn of other people, it didn’t feel wrong. No, that wasn’t the case at all. 

You, on the other hand, turned on Google alerts for anything relating to The Bear or Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto. Most of it was just good Yelp! ratings or fluff pieces from the local papers. He wasn’t one for posting on social media, in fact you weren’t sure he used it at all but you still posted like he was, but sometimes you’d find yourself scrolling through Sydney’s feed to see if she was giving you any crumbs. Sometimes, if you were really desperate, you’d find yourself in Richie’s feed even. It was pathetic but you can’t help it. 

One late night you came across an Instagram story post Sydney had up. Carmen leaning against a pinball machine at some gaming bar downtown. His hair was pushed back, eyes crinkled up with laughter. He looked at ease, peaceful. You wondered if anyone there felt the same… Was someone whispering to their friends and trying to build the encouragement up to go talk to him? Would he respond? 

Right, it wasn’t your place to care anymore. Yet you still cried yourself to sleep and yearned for when things felt so much easier. 

Yeah, the breakup wasn’t exactly going well. 

A few weeks ago you came across Carmen at the grocery store of all places. Both of you had gotten so used to doing the shopping Tuesday mornings and, logically, you were both comfortable going to the location just like you had been weekly for months. Your breath caught in your throat and God he looked better than you remembered. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Great sale on gouda this week.” And the only thing your brain could conjure up was, “Well that’s gouda.”

You both stayed silent for a moment before bursting out in laughter. 

Laughter turned to getting lunch around the corner. 

Lunch turned into you straddling Carmen’s waist in the car while parked in the very back corner of the parking lot and riding him until your eyes watered and you couldn’t focus long enough to keep a rhythm. He wrapped his arms, such strong arms, around your waist and fucked up into you for all that he was worth. Trying to prove himself in whatever capacity you allowed. 

If he couldn’t love you like he wanted, he could at least fuck you better than anyone else would.

Once you two broke the seal of seeing each other it was hard to stop. There was almost a forbidden aspect to your relationship now that caused a small thrill to run down your spine every time you saw him late at night. You were pretty sure no one knew you started… Seeing each other again and you were both content keeping it a secret. 

So that’s how you ended up here. Standing across from him at 11 o’clock at night on a random Wednesday. You try not to wonder if he left ‘early’ the second you reached out, instead convincing yourself that it just so happened to work out he was ready to go within minutes of you sending your ‘My place tonight?’ text during this horrific blind date your co-worker set up. 

Jonathan, 6’1, finance major turned CPA for his family’s company. He was… Fine. Just fine. You left on good terms in case you wanted to call on him for back up one lonely night. The problem was no one else was Carmen no matter how hard you tried to look for him in the people that passed by.

And there he stood across from you with hair falling into his face and his eyes looking up at you like you’re crafted from Heaven. A skirt, thin tinted tights, a shirt that exposed just enough skin but not too much. The soft shimmer across your eyelids and glossy lips from the lip balm you’ve been continuously applying since you knew he was on the way. The last time he saw you like this was when you were fighting because Carmen accidentally showed up 15 minutes past when you were supposed to leave for a birthday party at your friend’s house and that night ended with you locking him out of the bedroom while he had to pretend he couldn’t hear you crying in the next room. He really didn’t mean to be late. Sometimes the nights just got taken away from him. 

Carmen hated that you were dressed up for someone else but he pretends you just threw this on for him.

Your arms cross your chest, totally not attempting to push up your breasts, and you let out a sigh while you stare at Carmen. “This has to be the last time.” His face is stoic, a perfect poker face. The last time? Break up or not he couldn’t imagine there being a last time he saw you. Half the time he forgets, still referring to you as his partner while brushing it off and refusing to correct himself. Then there’s times where he comes home to his empty apartment and realizes you weren’t there to light the long forgotten candles on the coffee table or open up the windows to air the place out. 

He closes the space between the two of you and stares at your face. Searching for answers he’s too scared to ask for. Your resolve is breaking, cracking under the weight of having him so close. Beautiful eyes staring at you, the way he smells like the cologne you bought for your last anniversary and clean laundry. If you weren’t so drunk on the sight of him you would have put it together that Carmen kept clean clothes at the Bear to make sure he could change before he came to see you. 

You’re both silent for a moment before there’s two hands wrapping around either side of your neck and Carmen’s dragging you two together for a kiss. God, he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else kissing you. Would they even do it right? Do they know the way you moan when he licks into your mouth or the way you always grab ahold of his wrists when he cups your face? Do they know the way you forget to breathe sometimes when you’re lost in it? He’d have to pull back in order to give you a second to gasp in a rush of air. Does whoever you were with tonight know any of that? 

You pull away from Carmen with a broken out moan, silva connecting your mouths and the faint taste of cigarettes on your tongue from him. Clamping your hands on his shoulders you just faintly push the two of you apart, trying desperately to collect your thoughts. Carmen crying during the break up, sobbing in your bed, living on autopilot for weeks, the way he kisses you like he’s scared it’s the last time anymore because it very well just might be. Everything coming back to you in flashes as he stands before you once again. 

“I called you here for a reason, Carm.” His eyebrow is cocked, eyes flickering down to the bulge in his jeans that started growing the second he kissed you. “Uh - Yeah? Isn’t that what… I thought that’s what we were doing?” Carmen’s leaning in again, letting his lips connect to your neck. Warm kisses being pressed in a path up to just below your ear. “No uh, oh, remember how you let me keep the cast iron?” He hums in response, teeth nipping at your earlobe while broad hands start grabbing at your waist. “Yeah, uh huh, the cast iron skillet.” Fuck the stupid cast iron. He’s much more concerned with hooking fingers in the waistband of your skirt, attempting to pull it down while you’re fighting to stay focused. 

“Well my friends came over the other night and oh Jesus.” He’s licking a strip up your neck now, only half focused on your story. “Carm, please, they were helping me clean up and someone left it soaking in hot water overnight.” That’s finally got him freezing in place, his aroused little sounds quickly turning into a groan of annoyance. “Fuck. That ruined-… I mean, the seasoning has to be ruined. Assuming it rusted?” You nod helpless, fingers dragging along his chest while Carmen stares over your shoulder.

His eye twitches involuntarily. 

There’s a deep sigh coming from his body as he steps around you, finally kicking off his long forgotten second shoe before walking further into the apartment to head towards the kitchen. 

And listen, it wasn’t that you were necessarily concerned so much with the pan. Sure the two of you had purchased it together during the first few weeks of talking. Carmen cooked breakfast with it every Tuesday morning and showed you how to care for this damn pan. It was the closest you two came to owning a pet just… In the form of a nine inch cast iron skillet. You were more curious if he would care. A simple way of testing the waters to see if he just cared about getting laid or still cared about you. The answer should have been obvious but you still had to know.

You follow behind him and wince at the stream of expletives that easily fall from his tongue at the sight of the pan in the sink. It wasn’t horrible but wasn’t ideal. “Y’know, crazy thing is I’m pretty sure I can guess who did this. They kept trying to convince me cast iron wasn’t any different from a standard pan no matter how many times I tried convincing them that just wasn’t the case.” He’s grumbling to himself while crouching down to fish out supplies from under the sink, easily navigating your apartment from memory. The two of you had bounced between your places and talked about moving in together once his lease was up. Going as far as touring a few locations but the conversation was long forgotten once the tensions started building. 

As much as Carmen claims he didn’t see it coming, he resigned his lease almost two weeks before the break up officially happened. 

You hop up onto the counter next to the sink and watch as Carmen gets to work restoring your pan. “Think it's gonna make it through? I can't believe this is how it might end for the poor thing. All because I wanted to make your chicken piccata.” A few of his recipes had stuck with you and sometimes you find yourself making them when you’re missing him extra at night. 

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Just some surface damage s’all.” You watch as the muscles in Carmen’s arm move with the scrubbing motion, your lips itching to kiss over every exposed tattoo. Snap out of it! This is just sex between two consenting adults trying to let off some steam. That’s all. You’re both just comfortable and it would take way too much effort for someone random like Jonathan to learn what you like. 

Carmen catches you staring at him, not that you were being subtle about it, and feels heat blooming in his chest. He grabs one of your kitchen towels and gives the skillet a good pat down before sitting it upside down to dry off. It’s not perfect, not yet at least, but he’s pretty sure he’ll explode if it takes any longer to finally get his hands on you. 

“You look pretty tonight.” He’s coming to stand between your knees, reaching up to you with the hem of your skirt as you hum out a small “Thank you.” It seems like every time you see him lately you forget just how blue his eyes are. So easy to get lost in them especially from this close. Your hands come up to gently trace the features of his face. Just the ghost of a touch but Carmen’s soaking up the affection. He tilts his head in order to press a kiss to your palm. 

His hands are dragging up your thighs, feeling the material of your tights under his touch. “Know how much you hate wearing these.” Your heartbeat is picking up so much it’s making you jittery, hands wrapping around the edge of the countertop to grip it as hard as you can. Keeping yourself steady. “Help me take ‘em off?” You arch your hips up off the counter as an invitation for Carmen. He’s wasting no time grabbing ahold of the waistband and dragging them down your body, groaning to himself as inch by inch your skin gets exposed to him. 

Neither of you miss the way you press your thighs together once they’re freed, hips twitching in anticipation. The tights are getting tossed across your apartment and left to be tomorrow’s problem. Carmen falls to his knees in front of you, letting them dig into the harsh tile of your kitchen while in pursuit of making his mark on you. He’s grabbing ahold of your ankles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder while the other is brought up to his lips. 

Your eyes fall closed as Carmen starts trailing a string of delicate kisses along the length of your calf. His lips ghosting across your knee until he reaches the fleshy part of your thigh. While your hands finally escape the countertop and find their way laced into Carmen’s hair, he wraps his lips down against your thigh to start sucking a small bruise into your skin. “Carmy,” You hiss out, “What if I see Jonathan again? How am I gonna explain these?” But you’re not pulling his head away, instead doing quite the opposite by keeping his head in place. 

Carmen practically growls against your skin, a low and guttural sound coming from the man. His grip on you tights while he mumbles against you, “Fuck Jonathan.” You scrub your fingers against his scalp as Carmen finds another patch of skin on the opposite thigh to begin sucking a bruise into. His head ducking lower and lower under your skirt, the material finally getting you to pull your hands away from him.

Against all better judgment your thighs fall more open as he works his way down your thighs. There’s a series of small moans and whimpers coming out of you with no control as he reaches the top of your thigh, his nose dragging along the cloth covering your core. “D’you wear these for him? Or did you put them on knowing you’d end up texting me.” It’s impossible to answer when you feel his tongue drag along you, your hips rocking up towards his mouth. He’s bringing his hands up under your skirt now too and grabbing handfuls of where your thighs meet your hips to hold you down in place. 

“They’re purple, aren’t they?” A color Carmen had long ago decided he liked best on you. Something about the way the color compliments your skin… In all honesty, you were pretty sure he had purchased the exact pair you were wearing. You started the night with no intention of your date getting anywhere near your bed but instead being under the frame of the man who was exactly where you wanted him. 

He guides you to scoot you closer towards the edge of the counter, making sure you’re comfortable before mouthing over you once again. Hot, open mouth kisses being pressed almost exactly where you need them. One of his hands comes around your frame to grab a handful of the fleshy part of your ass while the other hooks a finger into your underwear, pulling the material to the side to expose you. 

There’s cool air being blown against your overheated body and your hands fly back to clutch at his back, his neck, the hair that’s exposed from under your skirt. Whatever inch of him you can find is being clung to like a lifeboat. He’s kissing the skin where your thigh meets your center, lips ghosting along the outer side of your folds. It only takes a few more pathetic whimpers before he finally takes pity on you and you feel his tongue go flat at the base of your hole, dragging up long and slow all the way to your clit. 

He groans into your core and the vibrations make you start to lose your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!” Carmen’s got your clit between his lips now, bobbing his head just slightly while he goes right to sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. If you didn’t want to be teased then he’d give you everything you wanted. One of his hands comes up under his chin now, a finger pressing into your tight entrance as his tongue works to lap at your clit, your folds, even dipping into you whenever his finger pulls all the way out.

A second finger slides into you while his attention focuses back to making out with your clit. You can’t keep track of the way he alternates between kissing and licking at you while his fingers push in as deep as he can get them. “So good, Baby.” Baby. It comes out of you by force of habit and it makes him twitch in his boxes. If you weren’t so drunk on him you probably would have started overthinking but he’s making sure your focus is on nothing else but his mouth for now. Carmen’s chin is slick with everything you’re giving him as he eats you out as if he’s a dying man and this is his last source of solace in the world.

“C’mon Honey.” He’s cooing against you, fingers crooked just how he knows you like it. There’s sloppy licks being delivered to your clit as his fingers pump in and out. His hand finally leaves it’s grip on your ass to apply a gentle pressure to the top of your mound, pressing down against the flesh to add yet another sensation. “Can feel how tight you’re getting. You wanna come for me so bad, don’t you? Be good for me.” 

Your hands fist around Carmen’s hair, hips rocking up against him and it doesn’t take long for an orgasm to wash over your body. You seize up at the feeling, thighs clamping around Carmen’s head as he licks you through it. He’s only giving you a moment to recover when you feel his fingers slide out of your sensitive body and he can’t help but go back to licking out the mess you’ve made.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me, Carmen.”

He’s smirking against you but taking the hint. Your thighs shaking as he pulls back from under your skirt, taking a moment to appreciate the handiwork that was the bruises covering your thighs while you take a moment to recover. The way your pussy looks so pretty covered in the mixture of your arousal and his spit. Carmen can’t help himself but to swirl his thumb around your clit, your hips jolting up as you reach out to grab ahold of his wrist. “Need a minute please.” 

Carmen nods and stands up, wasting no time making work of unbuckling his belt. You collect your thoughts well enough to start unbuttoning his jeans for him, letting your fingers linger on his jean clad hardened length. “You, uh -” You won’t meet his eye, opting instead to start pulling his pants down his toned thighs. “You still okay not using a condom?” A roundabout way of saying ‘I’m clean, are you?’. Carmen nods as if it’s the most insane question in the world. Even if he’s not with you anymore, it’s still only you for him for as long as he can see coming. “No one but you.”

You can’t meet his eye, a wave of guilt washing over you concerning your earlier date with Jonanthan that quickly gets pushed away when Carmy grabs ahold of your jaw and brings you in for a haphazard kiss. Mindless, heavenly kissing. The two of you getting lost in the way your tongues know just how to navigate one another while your hand slides into his boxes and begins lazily 

“Gotta fuck you or I’m gonna cum on your hand like a fuckin’ teenager.” You giggle into his mouth but slide yourself off the counter nonetheless. Giving him one more tender kiss before turning around to bend yourself over the counter. It’s not the most gracious process but you’re tugging your shirt over your head on the way down, pitching it somewhere else to deal with later. 

He’s looking at every inch of you. Underwear still pulled to the side, the way the lace of your bra looks against your back. Memorizing every detail he possibly can just in case you wise up and stop letting him come over to defile you like this at night. 

Carmen is dragging the head of his cock through your folds, tapping it against your clit while you whine and rut back against him. The weight of his jeans and belt resting heavy against his ankles and keeping him grounded enough to not spill his load before he even makes it inside of you. You weren’t used to taking him all the time anymore, a thought Carmen can’t dwell on, so he goes inch by inch and gives you time to adjust to the girth of him. He was thicker than anyone you’d been with before and every random hookup together lately reminds you of the first time you felt him stretch you out. 

It burns in the best way possible and he’s so tender while you get adjusted. Waiting until you start fucking yourself against his length to take that as his sign you were finally ready for him. Carmen still starts slow, a teasing pace of pulling himself nearly all the way out before sinking right back in. “Pussy’s like heaven.” It makes you oddly proud to hear him call that out. To know you still have an affect on him after all this time.

“Think about fuckin’ you all the time.” He’s picking up speed now, “Think about how good you feel stretched around me. Such a good slut for me, aren’t you? Bending over and practically begging for it.” His words, once again, make your head spin. It was a common theme with Carmen. Your fingers lace in your own hair, desperate to grab ahold of something. “Always wanting you to fuck me, Carm. Dream about how good you make me feel.” Like you two were meant to fit together perfectly. 

There’s a lewd clapping noise coming from the way your ass smacks against his frame with each deep thrust. Eventually your arms give out, torso falling flat against the shockingly still cool countertop while Carmen fucks into you for all he’s worth. A firm slap is being delivered to your ass that causes you to yelp out, rolling your hips back against him at the same time as an act of encouragement. 

His mind is taken up with how good you feel. You’re perfectly stretched around him and leaking out around his base. So wet, so beautiful, so perfect. There’s a hand sliding up your back until it’s fisting around your hair, gently tugging at it and the new sensation has these pornstar worthy moans escaping you. Your loud and needy brain is completely empty as Carmen destroys you the way he knows how. 

“D’you think about me fucking you while you were sitting across from some asshole all night? Poor little pussy almost got fucked by someone who doesn’t know how to treat it.” His words are so casually spoken with just the right amount of bite that it’s causing your brain to melt. Jonathan didn’t stand a chance of getting within two feet of your panties, just another mindless date in your series of attempted ways to ‘get over Carmen’ which clearly wasn’t going well. He bottoms out in you, every inch of his length pressed as firmly as he can into your core. It’s so much, so full and he’s got you pinned in place. Unable to do anything but be used by him, just how you both know you love to be. “Or did you go just to make me jealous? Put on your slutty little panties and went to dinner knowing you’d text me to come fuck you tonight.” 

He’s grinding his hips into you on the impossible quest to get even deeper. It’s possessive, claiming, and you’d probably even be a little annoyed by his behavior if you were in a better state of mind. For now you’re bent over the counter with bruises blooming all over your thighs and enjoying an odd jealous streak coming from someone who, technically, has no right to be jealous. It’s making you feel dizzy and your heart throb and your pussy clenching around him. “You gonna keep talking or you gonna fuck me, Carm? ‘Cause if not I’ll call him to finish the job.” 

You liked riling him up. 

Another sharp smack is being dealt to your ass when Carmen starts to pick the pace back up. His hands are tight on your hips and his pace is brutal. There’s grunts coming from behind you that are making your head spin and if you were more coherent you’d be a bit more embarrassed about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as your boyfrie-….. Well, as Carmen takes care of you. He’s admiring the bloom of his handprint on your skin, brushing his hand along it before pressing firmly down to help soothe the buzzing sting of pain. 

He wasn’t fucking you as often, didn’t have you nearly as well trained anymore. These bi-weekly meetings are not doing nearly enough for your body. He used to be able to fuck you right through an orgasm and you’d keep going. So used to him working your oversensitive clit to his liking. Now you whine while grabbing his wrist and whimper out pleas for him to give you a few minutes. He hates not knowing your body as well as he used to even if he still knows you pretty damn well.

So when he feels you getting closer, he’s taking note. Keeping his pace exactly the same and letting his hand crash down against the tender flesh of your ass again. “You gonna give me another? C’mon, Honey. Can feel how bad you need it.” And you do. God you need every orgasm you’re lucky enough to get from him. 

Your hips buck and twitch and you let out a series of uncontrolled moans as your orgasm starts to wash over your body. If Carmen wasn’t between your legs then your thighs would have snapped shut while your toes curled and your heart started beating faster. You could practically hear it beating in your own ears. “S’good, so good. Thank you, thank you. Shit, thank you.” A mess but you couldn’t judge yourself. 

Carmen’s pulling out when he’s close after just a few more strokes, frantically jerking off his length to keep the sensation going. You’re rolling your hips back and riding out the waves of your own orgasm, glancing back over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Carmen with his head tossed back and brows knitted together in concentration. “Come on me, Baby. Wanna feel every drip on my skin. Maybe I’ll let you take a picture of it dripping down all the pretty bruises you gave me.” 

That’s all it takes for him to come undone. Warm spurts of cum landing along your back, your thighs, some of it dripping down your folds. The feeling is pulling wanton moans from your mouth that send Carmen into orbit. God, he doesn’t want to come back down to Earth. Collecting his breath and trying to keep himself upright while the aftershocks of his orgasm wrack through his body. How was he supposed to stay away from you when it felt like this? Especially when you just kept calling him baby.

He stopped cumming inside of you since the breakup. It made sense, kinda. But you hated it. Felt like a waste even though you wouldn’t overstep and ask for him to go back to finishing inside of you. He would, by the way. Without a second thought he’d bury himself in until he couldn’t go any further and fuck his cum into you as deep as possible. 

You feel a finger swiping up some of his cum off your backside and soon enough it’s pressed to your lips. Without a second thought you take the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while licking him clean. He wants some of it inside of you one way or another. A subtle way of still putting his claim on you.

The two of you take a moment to recover after Carmen pops his finger out of your mouth. His hands are running a circuit up and down the side of your thighs and torso, still enjoying the view of your body relaxed against the counter in front of him. The tile was starting to become painful as your stomach bent over it but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. You didn’t fully trust your legs to support your weight without the counter for support. 

Carmen’s rustling around behind you now. Reaching down to pull up just his boxes but kick his jeans the rest of the way off finally. He’s not ready for the stimulation of such a heavy material against his sensitive skin yet. There’s a clattering from the sink area as he retrieves another towel to get wet for you and a cup to fill with water. Your eyes feel heavy. Mind’s at ease having Carmen around again, not that you’ll admit it, and your body feeling languid after being fucked so well. 

There’s a glass of water being sat in front of you. “Drink.” So you prop yourself up on your elbows and nurse small sips of the water while the cool rag gets to work wiping down your backside from the mess he made. His fingers ghost along the tender flesh of your ass where he was spanking, “Feeling alright?” You hum into the cup, giving him a small waggle of your behind to reassure any concerns he had. 

He gets you cleaned up in silence, letting the both of you enjoy the simple moment. Carmen always prided himself on taking care of you. There’s warm hands, still damp from cleaning you up, rubbing up the sides of your torso before wrapping around the tops of your shoulders. His hips rub along your backside and you just feel so warm, so safe like this. “We gotta get you to bed.”

You just sigh and scrub your hands over your face. A beat of silence passes while you collect your thoughts. “Carm, I don’t think I can stand up.” Your legs are still slightly shaking and your mind has yet to catch up with your body. 

Laughter’s coming from behind you as he delivers a playful swat to your ass. “C’mon I’ll get you there.” This feels so simple. You find yourself questioning why the two of you even broke up to begin with when the good moments were this good. Easy, content, safe. Would you ever be able to find this again? Would he? 

He’s grabbing ahold of your waist while pulling you back into his chest. Your head falls back against his shoulder and Carmen allows his lips to once again find your exposed neck. A series of gentle kisses being placed as his arms snake tighter around your body. “Still feeling okay?” You let out a content hum and allow yourself to be held by him. “Feel better than I have all week. Thank you, Carm.” You feel him smile against your skin as he places another delicate kiss. “Always.”

The two of you stay intertwined until Carmen starts to encourage the shuffle towards your bedroom. He makes sure you get cleaned up and ready for bed. Brings you one of your sleep shirts while you brush your teeth and tries to not overthink when you offer him a toothbrush of his own because you just so happened to have an extra. Gives you privacy when you complain about needing to pee and you find it odd there’s a tug at your chest when he ducked out of the room. Part of you hated being that couple who left the door open or used the restroom while the other showered, yadda yadda. It was a sign of comfort and the door being pulled shut behind Carmen was a sign that comfort was long gone. 

Not that you cared. Totally didn’t care at all. 

He’s going to just tuck you in at first until you’re clutching at his frame and pulling him into bed next to you. Carmen never could say no when it came to you, especially when he feels his back sinking into your soft bed and your warm body curling up along his side. He should go. Get home before it’s too late and try to get some sleep. He’s already planning on getting to work early to avoid having too much free time to think about tonight in detail. 

But his clothes feel so far away and the long day is starting to finally hit him. You can practically hear him thinking over his options and your breathing starts skipping as you feel him begin to pull away. 

“Carmen.” Your grip on his chest tightens and it pulls directly at his heart. Since this whole… Situation started he never stayed the night when your meetings would run this late. Always picking his clothes up out of piles on the floor and mumbling something about needing to get home to get stuff together from work. You never asked him to stay anyway. Neither of you knew if that would make an already weird and complicated situation even worse. 

But tonight was different. 

There were hints of a storm in the distance you start telling yourself. If you focused you could hear thunder, somewhere, out there and you just wanted Carmen safe for his sake. That’s all. So you pathetically cling to him and hope you don’t kick yourself out of embarrassment in the morning. It takes just a moment of him looking down at you to understand what you can’t say and he’s giving you a little nod in response. His arms wrap around your shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head. Kissing every inch of you had to be one of his greatest pleasures in life.

“Remind me to season that skillet in the morning.” 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen, shockingly, sleeps through the night. The warmth of your body next to him coupled with your excellent sleeping experience. A comfortable bed with good pillows, a white noise machine in the corner of your room (the ice maker in the fridge at Carmy’s would constantly go off so you got used to sleeping with background noise to cover it up), it was the best night of rest he’s had in months.

Your sheets smell like home. 

He’s slowly waking up now and his first thought is how much he misses the weight of your breast in his hand. Second thought is how much he needs to pee but damn your bed is comfortable. 

Carmen allows his body to wake up slowly. Stretching his arms out above his head and letting out a satisfied grunt at the feeling of his well rested muscles. Blinking his eyes awake just enough to take in the sight of all the trinkets and items that covered your space. There’s some things he notices that he knows for a fact he purchased you. Bottles of perfume, books you keep telling yourself you need to read, cups you constantly forget to bring back into the kitchen until you’re fully out of them.

Did you keep any of the pictures? Photo strips from Navy Pier and the holiday market at Wrigley Field. Everything from the disposable camera you brought along on road trips and vacations. The polaroids that once littered a cork board in your living room that the two of you added pictures to so often. If he looked around enough would he find them tucked away safely in a box or did you pitch them when you knew the two of you were through. 

Carmen still has one. You took most of them while you packed up your things from his place and refused to let him carry any of the boxes downstairs. So stubborn, so full of hurt pride. He just spent most of the day trying to stand out of your way but always available in case you finally admitted that you needed help. Maybe a small part of him hoped that as you packed up so many memories it would trigger a ‘What are we doing?’ reaction and you’d go running into his arms. 

You never did. 

But you did take one trip down to your car with an overstuffed Ikea bag over your shoulder and balancing a box on your hip. Carmen knew he didn’t have long, and it kind of felt like stealing, but he rushed over to the box you just started packing up and rifles through the photos as fast as he possibly could. It took a moment of digging before there it was. A polaroid photo someone took of the two of you on New Year’s Eve. You’re wearing some cheesy headband and he has those tacky sunglasses on that show off the incoming year on them. His arms are wrapped low around your waist as he stands behind you, one of your hands resting on top of his while the other is reaching up and back to cup his jaw. You’re both grinning and laughing in the photos and nothing bad has happened yet. 

He hears you shuffling back up the stairs so he’s quickly throwing the box back together after sliding the photo into his pocket and rushing back to stand in the kitchen. Acting like nothing was happening. You didn’t even look over at him so it wasn’t like he had to put up much of a show anway.

It’s still safely tucked into his wallet. 

The sound of the front door opening and hushed whispers are finally pulling him from his half asleep, reflective state. It looks like this day is getting started if he wants it to or not. He’s tilting his head to press it into the pillow underneath him, allowing one last deep inhale to remind himself exactly what your scent smells like before forcing his body to be pushed out of your bed.

Carmen turns the corner in just his boxer briefs and you’re not convinced you aren’t still dreaming because fuck he looks good. His hair’s a mess from the combination of you playing with it all night and him sleeping so well. One of his hands is scratching low on his hips while he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be so comfortable walking around your apartment half dressed still but God is this relationship situation getting messier since the day since the two of you reconnected.

“Ordered some breakfast from Yolk. Figured you were hungry and I’m sure you have to run off this morning but I uh-…. I just wanted to make sure you were fed.” You nod to yourself. Giving him an out as you start popping open food boxes. There was just over an hour until you had to get to work too so there were multiple excuses possible for this morning to end as early as it needed to. 

In an odd, roundabout, time to head back to therapy kind of way it almost feels like you’re dating your ex. 

“Yeah.” He nods to himself and desperately wishes he had deodorant, cologne, fuck even Axe body spray. Something to make himself smell better or feel more presentable for you. “Richie actually tried installing fuckin’ bidets to the toilets last night. Kept on running his mouth about how prestigious they are and he, obviously, doesn’t know how to install bidets. So the bathrooms are a little-“ He waves his hands through the air.

“Shitty?” 

Second questionable pun you’ve made lately. Pull it together. 

There’s a breathy little laugh coming out, “Yeah, shitty.” Carmen’s peeking over your shoulder as you plate up breakfast, sneaking a piece of bacon from under your arm before pressing a kiss to the top of your ear. “Thank you for ordering this.” 

You nod and try to pretend you didn’t stop breathing having him so close to you under the soft morning light. 

He leaves $60 tucked under a vase on your dining table to cover breakfast. 

————

11:52 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Richie put his foot down and we’re stuck getting the bidets 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: If you’re wondering how my day is going 

12:17 pm

Shockingly my day is much less toilet related. I hope it’s going well. 

4:39 pm 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: I know so much about bathrooms now

————

You laugh a little too loud as the alert illuminates your phone. There’s a fond tugging at your heart as the ‘normal’ conversations fills your chat history instead of the short “My place tn” or “I still can’t find my jacket. You have to have it”. Maybe saving him as do not answer seemed too harsh but having his contact show up as a photo of you two cuddled up with the Chicago skyline in the background, an innocent and horrifically cheesy “Baby Boy 💙” contact name modeled after Richie saying you baby him too much one night. Every time it flashed across your screen and Richie saw he gave you guys an endless amount of shit. It became a constant bit that none of you got tired of at the time. 

You were trying to separate yourself from your past with him as much as possible at first but now those lines just keep getting more and more blurred. 

One of your coworkers grabs your attention away from your phone thus leaving Carmen’s message on read. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him as he gets to work prepping for tonight’s service. Who wants to talk about bathrooms with their… Fuck buddy? Ex? God that’s still so weird to say. 

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Your mind was haunted by thoughts of Carmen Berzatto all day. 

No matter how many busy tasks you assigned yourself he always seemed to creep back in. You’d look around for him when a joke landed well at work and the group you were with erupted into laughter. Could easily picture his head thrown back as he scrubs over his face in an attempt to muffle the sound. When you were standing alone your mind wandered off to the way he treated you last night. So claiming. Expertly working your body the way only he could after so much time of getting to know it. 

The bed feels so much 

You throw the blanket away from your frame and watch as it bundles up beside you. Is this crazy? It feels crazy. You shake out the nerves, fluffing up your shorts and primping yourself for the photo. It takes one, two, seven pictures to get just the right angle. An image of your thighs against the bedding and your oversized sleep shorts bunched up all the way down your legs. Taking a deep breath you steel your spine and pull up Carmen’s contact.

————

11:28 pm 

Headed to bed 

ONE IMAGE ATTACHED

11:29 pm 

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Fuck.

11:31 pm

Goodnight Carmen <3

2:12 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Can’t stop thinking about you 

ONE VIDEO ATTACHED

————

The sun is warm against your skin as it slowly wakes you up. There’s an air purifier rattling in the corner that acts half as white noise while you sleep, half to soak up the smells of Chicago. Sometimes when Carmen’s especially exhausted you have to bring out the big boy and ask your Google home to play sleep sounds to mask him snoring all night. You typically didn’t mind the sound, knowing it’s a sign of just how badly he needed a good night’s rest. 

You’re fishing your phone out of the comforter in a haste to click off the horrific sound of the alarm and your eyes are barely open when you see the alert. A preview image popping up and you can just barely a blurry image of - “Holy fuck!” 

Your free hand flies up to clamp over your mouth as a mix of gasps and ‘no fucking way’ come out of you with zero control. With shaking hands you open up the video, half tempted to pinch yourself with a video of Carmen fills your screen. His hand rubbing over the bulge in his boxers and there’s a mess of shaky breathing coming from behind the phone. You can’t get the volume turned all the way up fast enough and you’re terrified to miss a single sound. 

And there he is. 

Fishing his cock out of his boxers and stroking himself for you. Illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table and his hand over lubricated to mimic how wet you get for him. He’s a mess of filthy moans, bucking hips, are you dreaming? 

The combination of the sun beating in and the way this video is making your body go hot is too much. You’re overheating, kicking the blankets away from you while your hand goes into your shorts on instinct. Toying with your clit even though you don’t have much time to spare as you watch Carmen get off for you.

————

8:04 am

HEART REACTED TO A VIDEO

Mine tonight?

Fuck you sound so good

Wish I would have been there to clean you up

Say my name more next time please

How am I supposed to go to work now 

————

No response. You aren’t surprised, he’s typically busy in the morning. 

So you go along your day and let yourself enjoy the thought of Carmen coming back over tonight to take care of you. You had thought letting him back in was a risky move but things seemed fine so far. Settling into the new version of what normal was going to look like. Maybe things would end up being some version of alright after all. 

A chirp from your phone catches your attention and you’re instantly uninvested in whatever task was at hand. It might be a little pathetic how excited you were but that is besides the point. 

————

10:32 am 

[CARMEN]: Busy tonight

————

Busy tonight? Go fuck yourself Carmen! 

You waited all morning and THAT’S the response you get? Were the multiple texts too much? Did you come off too clingy? Sure he just stayed the night, was two times in one week where he drew the line? 

So you leave him on read and take away the heart from his video. Change his name back to DO NOT ANSWER and instantly feel the urge to get off tonight leaving your body. Replaced by a subtle anger that only he can bring out of you. 

The workday seems to go by so much quicker as you have this internal argument with yourself and mentally pick a battle with Carmen. Maybe you were silly to think things would… What? Go back to the way they were? No, of course not. 

Ugh!

Carmen who, by the way, truly was slammed. Got stuck hosting an event for an old family friend that he barely knew but was convinced it’d be good for business. He’s overwhelmed by work and anxious with his relationship with you. The breakup was horrific. One of the worst things he’s had to experience so far which certainly says a lot. At the very least - It made sense. This though? Sleeping together, fucking when you have shitty dates and he’s your second choice for the night, taking pictures of dumb things he sees during the day because it made him think of you but never actually sending them, it made zero sense.

If only there was something the two of you could do to figure this whole mess out. 

But alas.

You bring home a salad that’s far healthier than anything you’ve eaten all week accompanied by some fresh pressed green juice nonsense you lie to yourself and mentally say is delicious. The boy detox starts now. 

The shower you take that night must last an hour. Every inch of your body gets scrubbed, your face and hair both get a mixture of treatments and masks. You primp and polish yourself up and convince yourself that this is all for you and not so you look better than ever and Carmen will have to regret his stupid and shitty ‘Busy tonight’ text because you were also just like so, so busy and -

Fuck Carmen Berzatto. 

You decide you could go the rest of your life without hearing from him and be just fine. It was his loss. You’re funny, beautiful, and excellent in the bedroom. There’s thousands of people out there dreaming about finding someone like you!

This internal argument keeps going. And you know what’s annoying? The second you fling yourself into bed you realize he left his scent all over your sheets still. It hasn’t gone away - Cologne mixed with Carmen. And you 100% aren’t hunting out the scent nor are you hunting out a reason to stay annoyed with him. Not at all. So you get back out of bed and grab the fabric freshener to spray your sheets back down with, giving it a minute to dry before falling face first into the mattress with an annoyed huff. 

So yeah, fuck him. You hope you never hear from him again and toss your phone on the other side of the bed. Forcing your eyes shut and making your mind go blank because otherwise you’ll stew all night thus continuing this Carmen induced spiral. 

————

1:47 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Hey

————

Fuck.

[sanguineterrain]

hi sanne!!! my mind has been rotting with assistant!reader x dick, and i literally can’t get it out 😭. i'm in love with your writing and reblog everything! thank you so much, have a great day!!

cute idea! I gave it a little twist ;) hope u enjoy!

dick grayson x gn!assistant!reader. flirting, secret identities, sparring.

****

Bruce Wayne is evasive on a good day and downright invisible on a bad one.

So when you see him down the hallway from his office, attempting to escape without being caught, you nearly trip on your feet trying to catch him.

"Mr. Wayne!"

His shoulders rise with tension. You pity the guy, you really do. Being a gazillionaire is tough.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, Sharon has been hounding me about the charity dinner. Please, if you could just go to this one dinner... you haven't been to an event all month."

And you're getting the brunt of it from all of WE's clients.

Bruce turns, his smile looking more like a grimace. "Hn. Hello. A dinner? I was sure I had a shareholder meeting that day—"

"All month? B, what happened to the two event minimum? That's your rule."

The new voice comes from behind you. Dick Grayson walks down the hallway, wearing jeans that probably cost as much as your monthly rent.

"Mr. Grayson," you say, nodding primly. "How are you?"

You shift the files in your hands as they start to slip. Dick is quick to catch them, balancing the stack.

"We've been through this," he says with a smile. "You know you can call me Dick."

Yes, you've been through this. Every time Dick shows up to Wayne Enterprises, he tells you to call him by his first name. And every time after that, you call him Mr. Grayson.

"Right..." you say, taking back the files. You turn to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, if you would just consider the dinner..."

Dick gives Bruce a severe look. "B, this is ridiculous. You're such a stickler for rules and yet—"

"Oh, look at the time." Bruce scoots past you and Dick. "I've got that meeting with Lucius. Where does the day go? Please tell Sharon I'll get back to her."

You can't understand how a guy whose biggest exertion is made by playing tennis at the country club can slip through your fingers so fast. He's around the corner before you can blink. You sigh.

"Don't worry," Dick says. "I'll get him to go. And I'll get one of my siblings to tag along to make sure he doesn't duck out early."

You smile briefly. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Grayson."

"Dick. So!" He trails behind you as you make your way back to your office. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Working."

"O-kay..." Dick jogs ahead to hold the door open for you. You push through, trying not to frown. "What about tomorrow night?"

You toss your scarf on the hook. It ends up on the floor. You ignore it.

"Still working."

"How 'bout I ask B to give you the day off then?"

Now it's your turn to give a severe look. "If you're implying that I'd be obligated to go out with you in return for a day off, you've completely misjudged my character, Mr. Grayson."

"Whoa, okay." He holds up his hands. "You're right, that didn't come out right. How about I get him to give you a day off, no strings attached?"

You dump your files and sit at your desk. "That's at your discretion."

"Hey." Dick leans on your desk, puppy eyes at full power. "Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Did I do something that put you off? I'd like you to tell me if I have. I hope the fact that I'm Bruce's son isn't stopping you from being honest."

You put down your pen and look at him. "Look. You seem like a nice guy, and you're handsome with a rich dad to boot. But I'm just not available, okay? You're looking for someone to go to Tahiti with. I respect that. But I'm not that person. I'm just not interested in that."

"You think I'm handsome?"

You sigh and open your laptop.

"Right! Sorry. Not the point." Dick sinks into a crouch next to you. He pulls the oddest poses sometimes, like he's made of rubber bands. "Okay. You're not looking for a trip to Tahiti. Got it. I don't take many vacations anyway. So how about having a friend?"

"And why would you want to be my friend? I'm just some assistant."

"Well, I..." Dick scratches his neck. "I like you. Is that so hard to believe?"

Very. But okay. You can throw him a bone.

"I guess not," you say.

Dick frowns. "You don't believe me."

How does he do that?

"Can I please get back to work?" you ask, only a little worried about being rude. "I'm sorry, I'm just very busy."

His face falls briefly before he stands and nods.

"Of course. No problem. I'll see you around? And I'll get B to go to that dinner."

"Thank you."

You don't notice his lingering looks, or the fact that he picks up your scarf and places it on the hook on his way out.

****

3...17...64.

The safe clicks. You smirk. Easy peasy. The hotshots always use their own birthdays for combinations. Predictable. You bet Bruce Wayne does the same.

It's a blessing that you were able to duck out early today. Bruce gave you the rest of the afternoon off. You suspect that was due to some outside meddling.

You take out the files from D.A. Colson's safe. You always say that if crooked district attorneys don't want their documents stolen, they shouldn't put them where anybody can find them.

...Maybe you were too harsh with Dick. He's sweet, no doubt. It was nice of him to get you off early. But you kind of feel like he'd take issue with the fact that you spend your weeknights breaking and entering.

"You know, cracking safes is already Catwoman's shtick," a voice says behind you. "You might wanna find a new gimmick."

A thrill shoots through you. You toss your head as you turn, leaning against the open safe.

"Catwoman steals diamonds." You hold up the documents. "I just steal files. And make a few edits."

"That's extremely illegal. Those files belong to the district attorney," Nightwing says, crossing his arms.

"The dirty district attorney," you correct.

"I'm supposed to let you off on a technicality?" He sounds amused.

Your shrug one shoulder, a little coy. "You could. I hear you're the nice one."

He laughs. Nightwing has a pretty smile. It's the first thing you'd noticed about him.

"Oh, yeah? Anything else you've heard?"

"Plenty. But I'm in a bit of a hurry tonight, Wing. As much as I enjoy our little chats..."

You dart to the window. Nightwing easily blocks your exit.

You're not quite sure what overtakes you when you run into Nightwing. Ignoring the fact that he manages to be the one to chase you almost every time (and what a chase it is), there's a tension between you. Or maybe it's just one-sided on your part. It certainly doesn't help that he's got a nice smile and bouncy hair.

"You know I can't let you go," he says, hands on his hips. "Put it down."

And he's extremely good at what he does.

"Make me," you say.

He never uses his escrima sticks, which you know is a courtesy to you. But that doesn't mean you can't hold your own.

"Alright," Nightwing says, smirking slightly.

He takes three steps, blocks your immediate kick, and takes the documents.

Something swoops in your belly. You kind of get why Catwoman exclusively fights Batman. Once you go bat, you never go back.

"Got them," he says cheerily. "Now what?"

You throw a glass bird tchotchke at him from Colson's desk. He catches it with his free hand, but it's enough of a distraction for you to slide into his legs. Nightwing stumbles less than you would like, but you push him down against the desk.

He grunts as he hits the wood, then rolls you over in the next breath, hands catching your wrists.

"Stealing... makes you no better... than Colson," he says, hair falling over his mask. All of him is pretty, really. It's too bad he's so firmly on the blind side of justice. You're trying to help the little people. Batman and his merry band of do-gooders have always been too focused on the small stuff.

"If these documents are buried, Colson will win his case and hide his own crimes in the process. Is that what you want? Another crook in court?" you ask.

Nightwing frowns. "You know that's not fair. We can't falsify evidence for the sake of putting Colson behind bars. IF we pick and choose whose lives to play with, what gives us the right to carry out justice?"

"I dunno, Wing," you say, a little breathless. Nightwing's hips are politely shifted off of yours, chest to yours. "Seeing you go rogue would be kind of exciting."

You can tell he's glaring at you. "Not in your dreams."

"Been in my dreams, have you?"

You gain enough leverage to push Nightwing off of you. He's back on you immediately, trapping you against the wall.

"How is doing something like this not crooked?" he asks.

You scoff. "It's for charity. I'm donating residents to the county jail."

You twist in Nightwing's hold and land a kick. In the three seconds he's distracted, you grab the documents. No sooner do you do that does Nightwing tackle you.

"I can do this all night," he says, knee wedged between your legs. "Might as well yield."

"Yield? You're not even playing at your full strength, hotshot."

He smiles. "No, I'm playing nice."

You roll your eyes. "Well, play fair."

And then you land a knee into Nightwing's stomach, roll, and jump out of the window.

Your tuck and roll isn't the worst but it's not the best. Especially when Nightwing neatly lands a few feet away without a wince.

"Showoff," you say.

"Give me the documents," he says. "I want to put Colson away, too. But this isn't how to do it. He's still a civilian, and his clients' lives matter."

You get up and wobble on a loose brick on the edge. Stupid historical buildings.

You're desperate. If he keeps this up, you're bound to land yourself a night in the police station and lose the documents.

So you dust yourself off. And you stop. Right at the edge of the roof.

"Okay," you say.

Nightwing takes a careful step forward. "Okay?"

You toss the documents to him. He catches them in surprise.

"You're surrendering?" he asks.

You shrug. "Like you said: you can do this all night. And I guess there are better ways to catch Colson. More permanent ways."

He tilts his head. "You're not gonna kill him, are you?"

"No! Jesus, man. Ye of little faith."

"I'm just trying to understand why you surrendered."

You sigh. "Because you always win anyway. You're a better fighter than me. And I'm cornered. I just feel like cutting my losses early. You're a lot more convincing than Batman."

"Is that so?"

"Oh, yeah. I much prefer you chasing me."

"Uh-huh." He nods towards the building. "Come on, then."

"Okay, sure."

You take a step. And you fall.

The brick is loose under your foot. It doesn't take much for you to keep going.

Panic surges through you, but that only solidifies your acting.

"Wing!" you cry, toppling over the edge.

"Shit!"

Nightwing lunges and grabs you by your waist, then uses momentum to haul you both to safety. His cheek against yours for a moment, body pressed to yours. It really is a damn shame he's such a Boy Scout.

You knock him in the stomach and snatch the documents, then separate from his grip. You watch his face contort in realization as you land and bolt.

"That wasn't playing nice or fair!" he yells, landing on the opposite side.

You're already gone, laughter echoing.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 5- The Finish Line

Arranged For Love (Carlos Sainz Jr x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- And they lived Happily Ever After

No face claim. All the pictures are from Pinterest

Warning- Mention of death

Carlos and his family flew in for the funeral. He saw his wife, a shell of a person she was. She couldn't stop crying and barely ate anything. "Y/N, you have to eat. Grandma wouldn't be happy if you do this" Carlos reasoned. "If she's that unhappy, tell her to come and feed me herself" Y/N stated. Carlos hugged her, rubbing her back. "Everything will be okay. She's in a better place" Carlos whispered. "I just wish that better place was still with us" Y/N cried. The families stayed for a couple days, wishing their final good byes to Anika.

Once the burial was done and everyone had settled back home, "You should move in with me" Carlos said as he was getting ready to leave. "A change of scenery would do you well." Carlos explained. "I'll probably be going back to college. The restrictions are easing up and classes for the next semester will be on campus" Y/N said. "Until then you can come to the races with me" Carlos smiled. Y/N nodded. "I'll see you at your home race then" she said.

2021

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by carlossainz55, avathetraveller and 268 others

y/n.y/l/n Home Race!!!🍾🎉

carlossainz55 you should come to all the races now❤️ landonorris it was so nice meeting the woman he wouldn't stop talking about🤔 charles_leclerc landonorris I agree🤌 avathetraveller the date vibes are emmaculate👌👌 user3 who is this and why is she posting Carlos?🙄🙄

2022

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 1,890 others

y/n.y/l/n Finally done with college until I decide to get another degree😏

carlossainz55 so proud of you, hermosa😘😘 landonorris congratulations❤️ scuderiaferrari we might have an opening if you're looking for a job🫣 y/n.y/l/n scuderiaferrari yes please🥹 charles_leclerc congratulations❤️ user4 the last picture...I have many questions😅😅

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by carlossainz55, 6,347 others

y/n.y/l/n Life for the past few months🤭🤭

carlossainz55 best birthday yet❤️😏 Liked by Author maxverstappen1 you're worse than I am at golf and that's saying something🫣 y/n.y/l/n maxverstappen1 Shut up! I will not take this slander. I started like a few weeks ago, unlike somebody😤😤 user5 I think she's dating Carlos, what a life?!🥺🥺 user6 I wish I was her, dating Carlos and travelling the world😭😭 user7 Carlos cooking will be the death of me🤤🤤

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by carlossainz55, avathetraveller and 10,378 others

y/n.y/l/n From only being able to FaceTime you to being able to kiss you whenever I want, we've come a long way😭😭

carlossainz55 yes we have. Also the last picture is a lie, I'll have everyone know😤 y/n.y/l/n carlossainz55 please, you parents follow me😭 carlossainz55 to my parents, you might be grandparents soon😏 y/n.y/l/n carlossainz55 OMG!! I hate you😣😣 carlossainz55 y/n.y/l/n no you don't😉😏 user8 OK, TMI GUYS TMI🙄🙄 user9 we might have Carlos jr jr, IDK how I feel about that🫣🫣 user10 she's so cute, kinda hard to hate on her😤😪 user11 LDR to moving in, I'm so happy for them😭 user12 Carlos is a menace😂😂

2023

After moving in together, the two of them were enjoying spending more time together. They were cuddling in bed when Carlos realised that he really loved her and he couldn't imagine his life without her. He did like her when they got married but he felt like she deserved everything since she made him so happy and content.

That's when Carlos put his plan into action. He never got the chance to propose to her so he decided to plan a trip and flew them out to the French country side. He had everything planned. They drove up to the location which he had disappeared off to decorate a few hours back. Y/N had no clue that Carlos was planning something like this. Her jaw was on the floor when she saw the set up; she had tears in her eyes. "For me?" she asked. "Only for you" Carlos said. As the two sat together watching the beautiful scenery, "Y/N, I've known you only for a few years but you've made my life so much better. I can't imagine my life without you. Every day I thank your grandmother for bringing us together." Carlos said. "I love you Carlos, you make me so happy" Y/N smiled back, holding in tears. "I love you so much that's why, even though we are married" Carlos laughed pulling out a ring, Y/N's eyes widened, she saw Carlos get on one knee, "Will you marry me? Again" Carlos asked. "yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I'd marry you a thousand no a million times" she shouted hugging him.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by avathetraveller, carlossainz55, carlosainzoficial and 198,270 others

y/n.y/l/n He proposed🥹🥹

carlossainz55 I want to spend the rest of eternity with you❤️ carlossainzoficial the cutest couple landonorris about time😌 charles_leclerc congratulations!!🎉 scuderiaferrari we are so happy for the couple❤️ fernandoalonso congratulations you both! user13 OMG!! Carlos is engaged!!!🥲🥲 user14 The proposal is straight out of Pinterest😭😭 user15 I'm kinda excited to see their wedding pictures now😭 user16 did Carlos plan the proposal out on his own?? he's so romantic🥲

2024

Carlos and Y/N decided to renew their vows on their 4th anniversary. The other's had no clue that this was a vow renewal and thought that the pair were finally getting married after dating for 4 years.

Ava planned a crazy bachelorette for Y/N with all their friends from school and university.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by avathetraveller, carlossainz55 and 345,287 others

y/n.y/l/n I think I drank my weight in alcohol last night👌👌

avatraveller best bachelorette ever🤤🤤 jessiejames Can't believe you're getting married🤧🤧 alexandrasaintmleux prettiest bride to be ever!!🥵🥵 user17 I'm laughing🤣🤣🤣 user18 I want to be friends with her, they look like a lot of fun🥹🥹 user19 the theme of the party is killing me😂😂 user20 she has the best friends🥹🥹

Everyone had gathered for the wedding. All the drivers, both their families and friends were invited. Everyone who wasn't at their first wedding didn't know that this was a second one. Y/N still wore the necklace her grandmother gave her on her wedding day.

As Carlos waited for Y/N to walk down the aisle with her dad, Ivan had tears in his eyes as he walked his daughter down the aisle for the second time but this time without his mother. Y/N reassured her dad. He placed Y/N's hand in Carlos's.

The pair faced each other and the officiant began. It was Carlos's turn to say his vows; "I've known you for 4 years. I'm the luckiest man alive to have met someone who understands me so well and supports me. I'm so happy that your grandma played cupid. I promise to keep you happy forever. I knew I would be getting married but I didn't think I'd be lucky enough to marry the love of my life twice" Carlos finished. An audible gasp was heard from the crowd. "I would marry you a billion times. Carlos Sainz, you make me so happy and I'm also happy my grandma was a nosy woman. Being with you makes even the gloomy days sunny. You are the only man I want to spend the rest of eternity with" Y/N said. The officiant began, "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two beautiful souls. Do you, Carlos Sainz Junior, take Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?" Carlos responded, "I do." "Do you, Y/N Y/L/N , take Carlos Sainz Junior to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?" he asked Y/N. She responded, "I do." "By the power vested in me by the state and the Church, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." the officiant said. Carlos leaned in and captured Y/N's lips in a kiss.

The wedding was buzzing with the new information Carlos had just released. Everyone was busy asking them when they got married, they had power point presentation from their previous wedding playing. Everyone was very annoyed at them for hiding it. "In our defence you guys never asked" Carlos said. "What do you mean never asked? You announce stuff like this" Lando whined. "Sorry Lan, at least you got to be in this one" Y/N cooed. "I'm not a child. I hate you both" Lando groaned. "Maybe he's tired." Y/N told Carlos while looking at him. "Get some rest" Y/N told Lando, patting his back.

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by carlossainz55, avathetraveller and 2,367,049 others

y/n.y/l/n Did we get married or renew our vows? The world will never know👀👀

landonorris still can't believe I was lied too🤧🤧 lewishamilton Congratulations!!❤️ charles_leclerc I'm still shocked😔 alexandrasaintmleux It's okay you lied, at least you're pretty🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Liked by Author danielriccardo top 10 f1 betrayals🙃 fernandoalonso congratulations to the couple😊 user21 OMG!! WHAT??!!😳😳 user22 Carlos was always married? For how long?😮😮 user23 IDK if I should laugh or cry😧😧 user24 My whole world turned upside down🫨🫨

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by carlossainz55 and 567,390 others

y/n.y/l/n Happy to announce carlossainz55 put a baby in me😏👌

carlossainz55 I take full responsibility🤤😏 carlossainzoficial Congratulations!! Can't wait to be a grandpa landonorris already making a McLaren jumpsuit for the baby😌 charles_leclerc so happy the jumpsuit made it into the announcement☺️ alexandrasaintmleux the prettiest pregnant lady I know😍😍 avathetraveller I'm ugly crying!!😭😭 y/n.y/l/n avathetraveller don't. I'll cry too😭 scuderiaferrari new driver🤔 y/n.y/l/n scuderiaferrari he would be if his dad was still driving for the team🤯 user25 okay Y/N popped off on Ferrari, also boy dad Carlos🤔 maxverstappen1 redbull jumpsuit on the way y/n.y/l/n maxverstappen1 I mean 🙂‍↕️😏 fernandoalonso I feel so happy y/n.y/l/n fernandoalonso I believe you'll be on the grid by the time our child gets there☺️☺️ user26 we're getting a mini Carlos or Y/N. Can't wait!!🥹 user27 This is such a happy news after the train wreck in the past few weeks😭 user28 I'm happy Carlos has something happy to look forward too😭😭 user29 did Y/N just reveal the gender? (Its a boy, I think) Don't tell her🤫🤫

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by carlossainz55, avathetraveller and 1,268,290 others

y/n.y/l/n Stress is bad for the baby but this man made me go throw a hurricane of emotions in the last 2 weeks. Still so proud of you baby

carlossainz55 couldn't have done it without you😍❤️ y/n.y/l/n carlossainz55 you gave me the motivation and our baby❤️❤️ avathetraveller congratulations Carlos user30 he's gonna be the best dad!!😭 user31 Congratulations Carlos, only man to break RedBull's streak😭🥹 user32 If I was Y/N I would've gone mad by now🤧 user33 He looks so happy in the second picture🥹🥹

2025

carlossainz55

Liked by y/n.y/l/n, williamsracing and 1,280,290 others

carlossainz55 To the best few years of my life!! Can't wait for many more🥂

y/n.y/l/n Can't wait to have more of your babies if they look this cute😏😏 carlossainz55 y/n.y/l/n I hope you're ready😏 landonorris I was gonna say something nice but no, you guys are nasty🤢🤮 y/n.y/l/n landonorris shut up🤬 alex_albon Lily might kidnap your kid the next time he comes😔😣 y/n.y/l/n alex_albon can she kidnap me too??😖😖 carlossainz55 y/n.y/l/n what do you mean by that??😤 user34 they are so chaotic, I love it🤣🤣 user35 Congratulations dad Carlos❤️❤️ user36 Can't believe they didn't name him Carlos the third🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ user37 user36 I think I would kill my baby daddy if he did something like that🤦‍♀️😟 user38 cutest family on the grid❤️ user39 I already know the kid probably has his own kart😳 user40 a couple more years and he'll be a karting champion😭😭

Taglist- @herexpertcollector @redrevvedup @chaostudee @larastark3107 @jovialpainterunknown @vip-access @sugarvibez @champomiel @inarabee @virazeeee @seonghwaexile @champ15ns @ajthefujoshi @musicheaux @npcmia @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @mochipatch @gleeblegnarp @formula1-motogpfan @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @dying-inside-but-its-classy @iamfreeeeeeeeeeeesblog @boiolay @pausmoon @ts1mp0ne

Thank you to everyone who read this!!

[chaewillriot]

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

RENTING A BEACH HOUSE WITH THE GANG!

(SBG X FEM! READER)

PART 1 / ?

You and the group saved money to rent a Beach House before school finished. It wasn't that simple because everyone had to work together for it to succeed. It also meant that no one could purchase junk food or street food. But now that you've completed tenth grade, all of your hard work over the last few months is beginning to pay off. It's finally time for you to enjoy your vacation today.

All of the planning was done by you and Taylor. After receiving the check-in schedule, she called the resort to rent a Beach House for a full week. You both agreed that it would be ideal if the group went to the mall beforehand to pick up some board games, snacks, and swimsuits. Given that the check-in time was one in the afternoon, you estimated that it would take you at least three hours to do the shopping.

The next step was to get into a van that you and the others had rented. When the shopping was done, the van would show up in the mall parking lot. The trip would likely take an hour or two, but that shouldn't be too long because traffic isn't as bad while people are on vacation. Everything was settled. When Taylor posts the plan in the group chat, everyone responds with numerous "thumbs up" emojis.

You and everyone else were inside the mall by around seven o'clock. Taylor made the decision that the girls and boys should go shopping together. She insisted that her mind was made up, despite Aiden's constant cries that he wanted to go shopping with you. Logan gave Ben a back pat because he was genuinely embarrassed by his cousin, and Ashlyn was trying to shield you away from the blonde.

"[y/n], blink twice if you need help." Aiden tells you. You only blink once.

"Seriously?!"

You have all already squandered fifteen minutes in idle chatter. You figured this would happen.

"Look, this way is more efficient. We'll all see each other after three hours. Besides, we'll bond at the Beach House anyway." Taylor decides to loop an arm around yours to drag you away before Aiden makes another commotion, and Ashlyn follows behind closely.

"Come on, idiot." Tyler smacks Aiden right on the head, causing the boy to stumble.

"You're lucky I'm not in the mood to fight you right now." Aiden huffs before he gets pulled along by Ben. He's still sulky about being away from you, considering that you two grew up and did everything together.

Back with the girls, you decided to push the cart while Taylor and Ashlyn would walk around the snack aisle. The brunette would always turn to you to ask for your opinion before loading it into the cart.

"You think this is okay?" She shows you a bag of sour cream chips. When you nod your head, she beams.

Ashlyn, on the other hand, would pick big bags of gummies. She also packs you some of the gummy worms you like. You probably weren't supposed to see that, so you pretend you didn't. But the fact that she cares about you this much makes your heart melt.

"Alright! I guess we've packed enough snacks. I bet the boys have different choices as well." Taylor chimes in then ushers you and Ashlyn to follow her into another area of the shop, specifically swimsuits and swimming gear.

You find yourself eyeing bikini's. You weren't that fond of them, but hey, you kind of want to try it out. Plus, it'd be nice to enjoy the sun every once in a while. You decide to grab a pair before heading over to the dressing room. The bikini you chose has strings instead, so you had to tie it real quick around yourself.

Once the curtains are drawn out, Taylor immediately notices you and playfully whistles, causing you to blush. "Hey, looking good!" She couldn't help but huff out proudly. Ashlyn, hearing the commotion from the other aisle, comes over to check up on the two of you.

She stops pushing the cart once her eyes lays on your form. She has a small smile on her face, but you knew it was some form of approval from her.

"You look nice."

Somehow, that causes you to blush even more. The girls just chuckle at your sweet reaction before Taylor ushers you back into the dressing room before someone sees you. She didn't want anyone passing by to ogle over your body.

In the end, Taylor chose a one-piece swimsuit while Ashlyn's is a tank bikini top. All that's left to do is to pay for the items and head straight to the entrance of the store. You wonder if the boys are done by now.

*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*

[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - epilogue

The Stranger That Knows Me Best is a heartfelt story about connection, vulnerability, and taking chances on the unexpected. Two introverts discover that sometimes, the person who understands you best is the one who you've never met.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: slight angst but mostly fluff!

Masterlist

The past year has been a lesson in patience, in love stretched across miles, in longing softened by ink and paper. 

Y/N, By the time you read this, you'll be somewhere between where we've been and where we're going.  I keep thinking about the first letter I sent you, how I sat there rewriting the same lines over and over because I didn’t know how to talk to a complete stranger hundreds of miles away. And now? Now, I don’t know how to live everyday and not talk to you. I find you in every quiet moment, in every song that plays, in every empty space that should be filled by you. I know the past year hasn’t been easy. I know we had days where the distance felt impossible, where time zones and phone calls weren’t enough. But we made it. And I can’t wait for the moment I get to hold you again, no miles, no screens, no letters between us—just you and me. I love you.  —Bucky

You tightly hold the last letter Bucky sent to your old apartment, tears blurring your vision as you carefully fold it and tuck it back into your carry on purse. You wipe away the few streaks from your cheeks as the pilot announces the final descent into the lively New York City. 

Your heart thrums in anticipation, hands gripping the armrests as the city scape comes into view beyond the window. A year ago, Brooklyn was just a place, a doomed stop with an inevitable goodbye. But now? Now, it’s more.

It’s home.

A quiet smile tugs at your lips as the wheels touch the ground, steady and sure. There’s no sadness this time. No ache, no uncertainty, no fear of what comes next.

This time, you’re arriving home. A new, promising, more permanent home. With him.

You and Bucky have healed the past year. Together and alone. You stayed in Oregon after he surprised you at your graduation but Bucky made sure to confess his feelings to you before he left. 

"I don’t want to let you go," he had said, voice rough with emotion, hands clenching at his sides as if he was holding himself back from reaching for you. "Not again. Never again."

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t care. God, you cared more than you had words for but because love, real love, felt too raw, too fragile to hold after everything you had been through. You weren’t sure if you were ready for a relationship, but you knew you couldn’t let him go either.

So you agreed to stay in contact. Letters at first. That has always been your safe space. As the months passed, wounds mended and your trust was rebuilt through all of his carefully written words, the letters turned into more. More quickly from texts to phone calls, the sound of Bucky’s voice became familiar again. He never pressured you for more. No expectations–only his continued patience and understanding. 

Bucky let you set the pace. And somewhere along the way, in the quiet constancy of him, in the way he never wavered, never gave up on devoting his time and heart to you, you realized what had been true all along.

You’d fallen in love with him.

That realization for you gave you the strength and bravery to accept his invitation to a trip, a planned weekend getaway to a city halfway between both of you. The first time since your graduation seeing each other again. 

You close your eyes as the memories come rushing back as you wait to unboard the plane. 

The way he was waiting at the arrivals gate, shifting anxiously on his feet, his expression nervous, like he was expecting you not to show up, until he saw you. And then his face became full of pure, unfiltered relief. He wrapped you in his arms before you could say anything, holding you, afraid to let go. You felt the same way, tears glistening both of your eyes as you collapsed against each other. 

That weekend was a dream. Wandering the unfamiliar streets hand in hand, laughing over terrible coffee, stealing glances across a candlelit table at a small restaurant that Bucky reserved weeks before. The way he looked at you under the streetlights, his fingers traced mindless patterns against your palm as if he couldn’t believe you were real, here, his.

You remember the hotel room, the late-night talks, the way you curled into him, muttering about the future. The first time you whispered I love you into the quiet, and the way he froze for a second before pulling you closer, burying his face into your neck as he breathed out,

“God, I love you too. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to tell you.”

It was the most perfect, unbelievably happy weekend you ever had. And it solidified what you already knew in your heart.

Bucky was home. He is home. 

And now, as you gather your things and follow the line out of the plane, you know without a doubt—you’re so happy to finally be home. 

You navigate through the terminal, weaving through the rush of travelers, your grip tightening around the strap of your bag as the anticipation builds in your chest. You look around frantically, over the heads and shoulders of your fellow travelers and see him. 

There he is. Bucky. In his usual battered jeans and leather jacket, hands stuffed into his pockets as he bounces slightly on the balls of his feet, showing the same amount of anticipation as you.  His eyes scan the crowd, restless, searching until they land on you.

His entire face shifts. The tension melts, his shoulders drop, and for a second, he just stares at you like he can’t believe you’re really here. Then, he moves.

You barely have time to drop your bag before he reaches you, arms wrapping around you so tightly that your feet barely touch the ground. The scent of him fills your senses as you bury your face in his neck.

“You’re here,” he murmurs against your hair, voice thick with heavy relief. “You’re finally here.”

You nod against him, gripping the fabric of his shirt like you never want to let go. “I’m home.”

Bucky pulls back just enough to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the dampness at your cheeks. “Damn right you are.”

He kisses you then, right there in the middle of the terminal, he doesn’t care about the people moving around you. You and this moment are the only things that matter. 

Brooklyn rushes past in a blur of streetlights and familiar city chaos, but inside the car, everything feels steady—grounded. Bucky’s fingers weave through yours, his grip firm, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. The radio plays softly in the background as neither of you speak much. You don’t need to. The quiet is comfortable, charged with the unspoken understanding that everything is finally falling into place.

He sneaks glances at you every so often, like he’s making sure you’re real. Every time you catch him, he just smirks and squeezes your hand.

"If you keep looking at me like that, Barnes," you tease, your thumb brushing against his knuckles, "I might start thinking you missed me."

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "Sweetheart, ‘missed’ doesn’t even cover it."

And you believe him. Because you missed him, too. In ways words could never quite capture.

Even though you were never the type to map out your future, you know now that you never could have planned a chapter like this. This kind of love—the kind that sneaks up on you, that lingers, that fights to stay. It wasn’t something you expected to find. But Bucky? He made it impossible to resist. Over the last year, his unwavering patience, his devotion, his quiet, steady love proved again and again that this is real. That this is worth everything.

Through long conversations—some easy, some difficult—you both built a foundation meant to last.

The city begins to slow as Bucky turns onto a quieter street. Brownstone townhomes line both sides, bathed in the warm glow of porch lights and the occasional flicker of a television through a window. Your fingers tighten around his as your heart stutters, realization washing over you.

This is it.

Your new home.

Together.

Bucky pulls into a parking spot in front of a townhouse with wide steps leading up to a dark blue door. The sight of it, so solid and welcoming, makes your throat tighten. It’s not just a temporary place to stay. This is yours, together.

Before you can even process it fully, Bucky is already out of the car, rounding the hood to open your door. He doesn’t rush you, only reaches for your hand to help you out.

"You ready?" he asks, his voice softer now, eyes searching yours as you stand next to him in front of your home.

You take a breath, taking in the way he’s looking at you—no trace of anxiety to be seen, only adoration. 

You squeeze his hand, stepping closer.

"Yeah," you whisper, smiling up at him. "I’m ready."

Bucky keeps a hand at the small of your back as he leads you up the steps to the front door. He pauses, giving you a look that’s entirely too pleased with himself.

“What?” You narrow your eyes. “What did you do?”

Bucky’s hand never leaves the small of your back as he nudges the door open, watching for your reaction like a man who’s been waiting for this moment for far too long. His lips twitch into that boyish smirk you’ve come to know too well.

Your mouth parts in shock.

The entire living room is decorated. A homemade banner stretches across the space, big, uneven letters reading Welcome Home. Balloons in soft blues and creams float in the corners, tied down by little weights. A bouquet of fresh tulips—your favorite—sits in a vase on the kitchen counter.

But what really gets you, what makes your throat tighten and your eyes sting, is the sight of the boxes you shipped ahead of time. Not a single one remains unpacked. Your books are already on the shelves, your framed pictures placed thoughtfully around the space, your favorite blanket draped over the couch.

It already looks like home.

Your eyes sting, and you swallow hard before turning to him, voice barely above a whisper. “You did all this?”

“Didn’t want you comin’ home to a mess,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Figured you’d be tired. Thought maybe this’d make it easier.”

Easier. Like he hasn’t already spent the past year making everything easier just by being there.

Emotion swells in your chest, too big to contain. You reach for him instinctively, hands settling against his chest. “Bucky…”

Before you can find the right words, he beats you to it.

He cups your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His lips press against your forehead, lingering there as he exhales.

“You’re here now,” he murmurs. “We’re home.”

It’s not grand or dramatic. There’s no over-the-top declaration. Just quiet certainty. Just him.

And that’s all you need.

You melt into him, arms wrapping around his waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. He holds you just as tightly, anchoring himself to you.

After a long moment, you pull back just enough to look at him, your heart full to the point of aching. “I love you,” you whisper, the words slipping out so effortlessly, so naturally, like they’ve lived on your tongue forever.

Bucky’s eyes search yours, memorizing the moment, storing it away somewhere safe. Then, with a slow, almost disbelieving smile, he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Say it again,” he murmurs.

Your lips twitch, and you cup his face, brushing your thumb along the stubble on his jaw. “I love you.”

A soft, shaky laugh leaves him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then he’s kissing you, slow and deep, like he’s been waiting forever to do it. Like he’s finally home, too.

Later that evening, after the excitement of your arrival settles and the last of the takeout containers have been pushed aside, you curl into the couch, legs tucked beneath you. Bucky sits beside you, his arm draped over the back of the couch, fingers tracing absentminded patterns against your shoulder. 

You glance around the room, taking it all in—the space you’re building together, the life that’s finally yours. It feels surreal, like you’re caught in some fragile moment that could slip through your fingers at any second. But it’s all real. He’s real.

Your mind drifts, tracing back the previous months that have led here. 

Sam had insisted on helping you find your footing in the city, setting up a meeting with an old friend of his, the editor-in-chief of a local magazine, who owed him a favor. You remember the nerves rattling through you when you first interviewed, the overwhelming self-doubt. But Sam believed in you. And now, here you are. The new assistant editor, ready to carve your own place in the industry.

And Bucky…

Your gaze shifts to him, watching the way his eyes soften as he looks back at you. He’s changed in ways that make you want to scream with pride. The man who once struggled to let anyone in now stands solid in his place at a physical therapy clinic only blocks away, guiding patients through their recovery, offering quiet encouragement, a steady hand.

He’s told you some stories about his clients. An older woman who insists on bringing him baked goods to every appointment. A stubborn teenage athlete who reminds him too much of himself at that age. You catch the way his enjoyment appears on his face everytime he talks about the work, feeling fulfilled in ways he never thought possible.

But more than that, Bucky has let people in.

Flashbacks from the past couple months drift through your mind. As you and Bucky went about looking for a new home to rent, you spent more time in Brooklyn. And Sam didn’t let the experiences stop. 

Sam has been a beacon in your relationship and who you now consider one of your best friends. He’s always been determined to drag Bucky out of his shell so you both decided to make the effort and push past the old tendencies of retreat and allow yourselves to open up to a new world of experiences. 

The bar is excited with life, music pulsing through the floorboards, rattling in your chest. The air is thick with beer and sweat. It should be overwhelming, but with Bucky’s arm looped around your waist, you can’t think about anything else. You admire his protectiveness. It’s not an act of possession. It’s comfortable and grounding.

Sam stands across from you, drink in hand, telling some ridiculous story about a botched date, a missed reservation, and a very unimpressed woman. His hands move wildly as he reenacts the whole thing, voice animated, drawing laughter from the new group of friends he introduced you both to.

You giggle and feel Bucky chuckle beside you, his body vibrating slightly against yours. He’s relaxed in a way you don’t always get to see, his usual broody exterior softened by the good company and a couple of drinks.

You don’t even realize how close you’ve drifted to him until the room around you fades into the background, until your foreheads are nearly touching. His breath ghosts over your cheek, his gaze dipping to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes, and for a second, the world narrows to just you and him.

His fingers flex against your waist, a small squeeze.

You smirk, tilting your head jokingly. “You keep looking at me like that, Barnes, people might start talking.”

Bucky huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Let ‘em talk.”

His grip on you tightens, just enough to make your pulse flutter, just enough to tell you what you already know. He’s not letting you go. Never again.

Sam’s place is warm, filled with laughter bouncing off the walls. The setting invites easy conversation and good company.

Plates are pushed aside, empty glasses refilled, and now the living room is alive with game night in full swing.

You and Bucky, however, are horrible at charades.

Neither of you have much enthusiasm for acting things out, and it shows. Bucky flat-out refuses to perform anything more animated than a halfhearted gesture, and your attempts aren’t much better. 

“You both are THE worst team in charades history.” Sam exclaims, shaking his head in slight disappointment. The rest of the group groans and laughs as you struggle through yet another round.

Still, Bucky leans in close, murmuring guesses in your ear, half the time being terrible.

“C’mon, doll, that’s definitely a—wait, what are you doing?”

You groan, gesturing wildly, barely holding back laughter. “How do you not see it? It’s so obvious!”

“Not a chance,” he smirks, shaking his head. “You’re making that up.”

"You are the worst partner," you tease, lightly swatting his arm.

Despite your efforts—or lack thereof—you both lose spectacularly. The others tease you about it even after the game ends, Sam declaring an official ban on you and Bucky ever teaming up again.

But later, when the night slows and the energy lowers, you find yourself curled up against him on the couch. His arm draped lazily around your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly playing with yours, tracing soft patterns against your skin. 

Losing didn’t matter.

Not when the night ends like this.

You tip your head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, and he’s already looking at you, the corner of his mouth tugging up in the softest smile.

Yeah. The night was definitely a win.

The quieter moments over the last few months snuck up on you, the ones that didn’t seem significant at first but settle deep in your mind, lingering long after they’ve passed.

One early spring afternoon you and your new friends stroll through the park, conversations overlapping with easy laughter. The air is cool with the sun peeking through the bare branches.

Bucky walks beside you, his hand brushing against yours every so often. But what truly captures your attention is the way he’s engaged in a conversation that isn’t forced or guarded, he’s relaxed, voice steady. He listens, he responds, and he even throws in a dry remark that makes the whole group laugh.

It’s such a simple thing, and yet, you remember the version of him from over a year ago—the one who would have kept his head down, who would have listened silently. And now, here he is, with people who genuinely enjoy his presence.

You squeeze his hand and when he glances at you, you smile brightly. He squeezes your hand back.

Your hand stays in his, tightly as everyone settles into a restaurant booth for brunch. Loud chaos of plates and coffee cups overflow the table. You sit across from Bucky at the crowded table, but your focus stays entirely on him, watching as his expression shifts between amusement and exasperation at Sam’s latest ridiculous story.

Sam’s hands move animatedly as he talks, voice dramatic, eyes wide, clearly embellishing whatever tale he’s spinning. Bucky, arms crossed, leans back in his chair, unimpressed.

“That never happened,” he says flatly.

“Yes, it did!” Sam insists.

Bucky just shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee. And you can’t help but admire the way his eyes crinkle at the corners slightly.

You nudge his foot under the table and mouth to him you love it, just admit it.

Bucky tilts his head slightly, eyes locked on yours, and mouths, not a chance.

You arch a brow, fighting back a grin. Liar.

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head as he takes another sip of his coffee, but the ghost of a smile lingers. His foot nudges yours back under the table with a silent drop it.

You lean forward slightly, elbows resting on the table as you mouth again, you’re having fun.

Bucky’s lips press together, eyes narrowing just slightly before he mouths back, debatable.

You roll your eyes, you know him too well now to realize he is enjoying this, even if he’ll never admit it out loud.

Across the table, Sam groans. “Okay, what is this? Some kind of creepy silent flirting? Just say what you wanna say like normal people.”

Bucky finally smirks, setting his coffee down with a soft clink. “Says the guy who just reenacted a story that never happened.”

The whole table erupts into laughter, and you just shake your head, nudging Bucky’s foot again. This time, he doesn’t push back. Instead, he just looks at you with a gentle softness in his eyes.

Yeah, he’s enjoying this.

Even now, sitting in your new quiet home, you know you’d be content spending the rest of your life like this. Just you and him.

Still, you’re more grateful than ever for the friendships you’ve made and the ones you’ve kept. Wanda has remained a constant. She has been there so much over the past year, watching your love and relationship sprout and grow so bright. She helped you pack all your things and dropped you off at the airport on your way home to Bucky. 

You shift your carry-on higher on your shoulder, glancing over at Wanda, who stands beside you, arms crossed and eyes suspiciously glassy.

“You’re gonna cry,” you tease, nudging her side.

Wanda scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Please. I don’t cry.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t.” She clears her throat, blinking rapidly. “It’s just… weird, that’s all. You not being here.”

Your chest tightens at that. It is weird. Oregon has been your home all your life, and saying goodbye, to head toward one of the most important chapters of your life, carries a bittersweet weight.

But Brooklyn is waiting. Bucky is waiting.

“I know,” you say softly. “But you’ll visit. And I’ll visit. And it’s not like we won’t talk every day.”

Wanda huffs. “Yeah, yeah. You better not get all ‘too busy with my new life’ on me.”

You grin. “You’ll force me to talk to you, even if I tried.”

“Damn right.” She pauses, her expression shifting. “But seriously… I’m proud of you. For going after this. For going home.”

Your throat tightens. You blink quickly, forcing a smile. “Don’t make me cry right before I get on a plane.”

Wanda smirks, bumping your shoulder. “I knew you were the crier between us.”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. Then, before you can overthink it, you pull her into a tight hug. She grips you just as fiercely.

“Love you,” you mumble into her shoulder.

“Love you too,” she says, voice muffled. Then, pulling back with a smirk, she adds, “Now go before I do start crying and completely ruin my reputation.”

You laugh, adjusting your bag one last time. One last deep breath. One last glance at the place you’ve called home for so long.

A sigh escapes you, the weight of everything—the past, the future, the sheer enormity of how far you’ve both come—settles into your bones.

Bucky’s fingers trail down your arm, his touch grounding. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he murmurs, tilting his head to catch your gaze.

You shift, pressing into his side, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. “Just thinking about how much has changed.”

His lips curve into a knowing smile. “Yeah?”

You nod, eyes flickering up to meet his. “Almost two years ago, we were two strangers trying to make sense of everything. Now, we’re here. Together.”

Bucky hums, his hand slipping beneath your chin, tilting your face up to his. “Together,” he echoes, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

There’s a gentle acknowledgment that the journey isn’t over. You’re both still healing, still working through old wounds and learning how to navigate life as it comes.

“Oh I have one more thing for you.” Bucky whispers and gets up, grabbing an envelope from the kitchen counter. “A welcome home letter. I figured we’d carry on the tradition, you know, just because we’re finally here together, doesn’t mean we can’t continue to write to one another.” 

You smile at his suggestion, reaching for the envelope as he settles back down beside you. 

Bucky watches as you unfold it and absentmindedly rubs circles against your arm.

You take a breath, eyes tracing the words meant only for you.

Y/N, I know from here on out I get to see you everyday. I get to wake up next to you, hold you and kiss you whenever I want. But still, I can’t help but find myself reaching for a pen. I feel like there are things that I can only seem to say like this.  I hope we carry on this tradition. I don’t want this to change. Each of us digging into each others minds that we somehow find new facets we haven’t uncovered before. It’s fascinating to communicate so openly through written words, that even therapy probably couldn’t pull from me.  I am eternally grateful that you have chosen to continue to try this with me. Not just the letters but life. There’s not a singular soul on this planet that I would choose over you. You are my entire universe and I will love you in a way that doesn’t change, even as everything else does. And I hope that, no matter how much time passes, no matter where life takes us, I’ll always find a way to remind you. So, here’s to you, someone who started out as the stranger that knew me best.  And now to us, a love I hope to cherish and honor for the rest of my days. And here’s to the words that started it all. – Bucky xx

You press the letter to your chest, blinking back the emotion swelling behind your eyes. Bucky shifts beside you, wrapping you warmly in his arms. 

“Still gets you, huh?” he murmurs, his lips curving in that small, knowing smile.

You glance up at him, seeing every chapter of the past, present, and future reflected in his blue eyes. “Always,” you whisper.

Even as things change or fade over time, you know your love will last for lifetimes because you’re both deciding to do it together, no matter how hard it gets. Through the small and big moments. You’re doing it together. 

It’s not perfect. It rarely will ever be. But you’re growing.

And that’s enough. That will always be enough.

Taglist (please lmk if you don't want to be apart of my taglist or comment below to be added!): @mutifandomkid @civilbucky @ozwriterchick @buckyb-stan @lomlbuckybarnes @kjah97 @danzer8705 @laprofesoratinacita

Thank you so much for reading <3 my requests are open for Bucky, so please if you have any ideas send them my way!

[queercoshon]

Aaaand here we go! The last bit of the story. Lemme know what you think!

Christmas Day Evening

It's dark out when you crack open your eyes. You look slowly around the room, trying to get any brain function going. What woke you up?

Your phone dings.

Food has been delivered.

You manage to read through your swimming vision. Did you order something? Were you so fucked up that you blacked out and somehow found a restaurant that would deliver today? You're still Very Drunk, but less high now, and you can feel how full you are still. But you can't leave the delivery on the door stoop, even if you don't eat it, you can't leave it outside.

You know you'll eat it. Your gut gurgles with...anticipation? Fear?

You go to hoist yourself up, but realise your hand is already occupied. The last of the cinnamon bun is still clutched in your chubby fingers. You quickly shove it in your mouth, and get back to the task at hand.

It's getting harder to get off the couch, you think. Maybe it's because it's sitting a little lower, or because your belly is unweildingly full and restricting your movement? It could also be from your rapid gains making it harder to maneuver your body around, or the fact that you're still so sloshed you have to think really hard about which way the door is. It's actually a healthy combination of all of that, but you don't have the brains to put that together right now. You barely have the brains to order out the steps of hauling your ass off the couch. But you manage, barely.

You almost down yourself when you turn on the hallway light, assaulted by the sudden brightness. The walls become your friend, leaning on them heavily with every unsteady step. Even with the support, you wobble back and forth a bit, your feet just not cooperating. Your legs feel almost as heavy as your belly.

By the time you reach the door, the delivery person is long gone. Several bags sit on the doormat, and you stand there, just staring. Where did these come from? But it certainly smells better than the frozen pizzas you were planning on, so you start the task of just bringing all the bags straight to the living room.

It takes you four trips and fifteen minutes to get everything. You're already slow when you're this heavy and this bloated, but you also had to keep one arm free to help support your drunken stumbles and catch you if you fell.

It smells like the traditional Christmas dinners you grew up with as a child, the ones where you learned to love overeating to near sickness. This type of meal deserved a matching drink, so you grab two bottles of wine and a glass.

The first bag you open contains a container of mashed potatoes, fried green beans, and dinner rolls. The second has a casserole of some kind, corn, and fixings like cranberry sauce and gravy. The third held an entire half turkey, as well as a card.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Thank you for ordering from FamilyMade Meals. We hope we've made your holiday easy, stress and mess free!

Right, you and your feeder had ordered this two months ago, to save time cooking and cleaning. They must not have cancelled the order after they left you. A strange feeling sat on your chest. Guilt? Sadness? Resentment? Either way, you don't like it, and you know the quickest way to get rid of it is to light up and smoke until your eyes roll back, and then eat until you pass out mid bite.

Rolling a joint is hard in your state, but you manage, and victoriously puff it back. You start out smoking leisurely, but your gluttony starts to rear its head halfway through, and you huff the rest back, munchies-induced hunger pains grumbling from your belly. You open a bottle of wine and pour a heavy-handed glass. You had a half-baked thought of sipping it throughout the meal, but your hedonistic needs make you drain nearly the whole glass. Oh well, you have lots of wine to go through. You top it up again and then dig in.

The turkey is first. It'll take a little more effort to eat than everything else. FamilyMade Meals cooked it perfectly, it's not dry at all, which is what it would have been had you or your ex made one at home. You pair it with bites of cranberry sauce and scoops of gravy, until there's maybe a fifth of it left. Your palette starts to dull, so you do your favourite trick of switching up the flavours.

You hadn't seen it, but there were actually two small casseroles in the bag. One is sweet potato, and the other is broccoli. You open both and work your way through them, putting whatever container you want on your shelf of a gut, making it easy to just shovel in.

After your third glass of wine you realise leaning forward to refill it is going to be incredibly difficult, especially as your hand gets less steady, so you just prop the whole bottle up in the corner of the couch, and bring the other bottle close by for good measure.

The casseroles are dense, and you can certainly feel that. Your gut is hanging low, but feels solid and rotund. You have to lean back a bit and pant, your feast starting to take a toll on your body again. But there's still so much more to eat. You still have to take a little break to try and catch your breath. Such a fat fuck. Not only did you eat so fast you started to pant, but you've eaten so much that your lungs don't have the space to recover.

During your break you continue to slug wine back, and the bottle is very quickly emptied. It sloshes around in your gut as you massage it, and your crotch pulses at the thought of how drunk you're going to be in about ten minutes. Just how drunk could you get? That second wine bottle should help. You manage to grab it by the neck and pull it towards you, but you seem to be struggling with the screw top? Why won't it open? The other bottle was much easier! Oh wait, there's a tab to pull, which gives way to...a cork. Fuck.

You do own a cork screw, but rarely buy alcohol nice enough to be corked. This was either a gift, or you grabbed it by mistake. And the cork screw is in the kitchen, which feels like miles away. But god you want more wine!

You're too far gone to think rationally, or really think at all. You're driven by your hedonistic stupor, and just need more.

You rock back and forth, back and forth. The first three times you try to get up, you fall back on your ass, your couch crunching every time. You almost give up, but a big burp tastes of wine, and you're reminded why you're doing this.

You take extra time to build up momentum, and manage to barely make it to your feet. You stand victorious, but also swaying heavily. A few side steps almost send you to the floor, but you do a quick spin and manage to stay upright.

The wall is your lifeline, and you hug it dearly, inching forward. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the hallway mirror and your knees nearly give out. Bloodshot eyes peer back at you, squinting and droopy-lidded. Fat has taken over every part of your body, but the past few days have left your gut looking bigger than ever, almost as if it belongs to someone heavier than you.

You stare for a bit and then remember why you're up. Wine. Corkscrew.

You stumble to the drawer in the kitchen and search desperately, clumsy hands struggling to move various utensils out of the way. Something pricks your finger hard. Turns out you did not put away the corkscrew properly last time. Well, at least you found it.

You left the bottle of wine in the living room, but as you turn to leave you notice a different one on the counter. Maybe a swig or two for the road?

It takes entirely too much effort to open this bottle. Corks are such a pain! Boxed wine is easier; you can drink right from the spout.

You take a swig, then another, and then gulp desperately, belly literally growing stretch marks with every swallow now. You put down the bottle heavily, barely keeping it upright. Your head drops as the alcohol hits you, and your knees finally give way.

The counter helps guide you to the floor as you kind of fall into it and slide down. You make it onto your ass and you lay there, legs splayed, back leaning up against the cupboard. It rattles every time a hiccup bounces your limp neck and solid boozy ball gut. The hiccups shake loose burps, and as the two increase in frequency, they start to blend together making some of your noises sounds like snorts.

Alcohol and food and weed completely pin you down, feeling the weight over every part of your body. You can't move your arms from your sides, though you desperately want to rub your aching gut, maybe hold it still through the hiccups. You're stuck there, chins bouncing off of the fat on your chest woth every hiccup, stomach glorping with every burp. Your eyes just can't stay open, so you're left to just feeling complete lack of control of your body, every involuntary movement a consequence of your hedonistic indulgences.

You're nearly catatonic for a good while, barely aware of anything except how heavy your head and your gut feel. The ache in your belly sends shivers through your body and right to your crotch, but you can't do anything at all.

Time passes; you have no idea how much. You can sloppily move your arms now, and you get to massaging your belly and fondling your folds. Now you burp non-stop, the pressure of your clumsy hands shifting the contents of your stomach around. You're not even aware you're doing it, everything is just on autopilot. Eventually you've rubbed enough air out of your gut and relaxed your muscles enough to think about moving again. At first, you try to pull yourself up by the counter, but even if you could stand, there's no way you could walk back to the living room. Somehow you remember to grab the corkscrew, fumbling on top of the counter for it from your seated position on the floor. Once acquired, you start your journey back to the living room.

Crawling makes your gut feel extra heavy, especially as it swings back and forth as you sway, somehow still stumbling. You've also gorged yourself so much that once and a while, your belly brushes along the floor, sending shivers down your spine.

You lose your balance a little and fall into the wall, giggling uncontrollably. When you're this drunk, gravity really manhandles your heavy body.

After taking entirely too long, you make it back to your living room, your Christmas movie playlist still flickering on the tv. You manage to pull yourself back onto the couch, panting once you settle back. Through all your huffing and puffing, you didn't hear the cracks echoing from the couch, and certainly didn't notice that the spot where you sit is very sunken in now. It is a little harder for you to reach the food, but you figure it's just because you're exhausted.

The corkscrew in your hand reminds you why you did that whole expedition in the first place. It takes some struggle, but only a little spillage, to get that corked wine bottle open. You take gulps right from the bottle, determined to drink as much as possible tonight.

Next is the potatoes, green beans, and dinner rolls. You try to just zone out and autopilot through the food. Even in your state you can feel your stomach start to ache. But you still have room. Weed will make this easier, so you grab a preroll and light up. It's not as good as your special blend, but rolling a joint now would be nearly impossible.

Every puff makes your body feel lighter, like you're floating in water. A comforting warmth radiates from your stomach down to the tips of your fingers and toes. By the end of the joint it takes an immense amount of concentration to keep lifting the roach to your mouth, whatever movie is playing right now is distracting and funny.

Is it funny? Oh, the joint is completely gone now. God, you're hungry.

Now autopilot is on. Bites of roll are broken up with swigs of wine, the bread soaking up the liquid and sitting heavy in your gut. You put the tray of potatoes and beans on your gut and shovel them into your mouth, eyes glued to the tv. The hiccups attack yet again, but you eat right through them, not even aware that's what's happening to your body. Burps are being forced out of you with almost every bite, all of the air you swallowed while gorging too quickly being replaced with more calorific food.

Finally your utensil hits the bottom of the aluminum tray, everything crammed inside of you. It clunks to the ground as you let your arms fall to your sides, panting heavily, rocking your giant gut rhythmically.

Your head is spinning, and the skin around your belly feels so tight. The bottle of wine is finished, and your extreme crossfade is making everything feel extra sensitive.

If you could see yourself now, you would not believe how far gone you look. Bloodshot eyes that someone would barely be able to see, because you're so fucked up your eyelids keep drifting shut. The world is blurry, so you squint to try and focus.

Your gut is a sight to behold. There's no jiggle at all, just slight ripples through the layers of surface fat. You can see your actual stomach pressing against the skin, swollen and abused. Red, angry lightning bolts have started to turn purple, and crisscross horizontally against your vertical ones.

And oh my god you're so full. You're afraid you'll explode if you try to move. You can barely rub your belly without the pressure being too much. Maybe you overdid it this time. The radiating warmth has turned into aches and cramps, rising and falling with the churning and gurgles eminating from your middle. You would be able to hear your gut creaking, if it wasn't gurgling so much, and if you weren't moaning. You don't realise you're doing it, everything is involuntary.

Your eyes close and you breathe through all the sensations, as best as you can. Your lungs still don't have any room to expand. Deep breaths make everything cramp dangerously.

As gently as possible, you rub little circles on your skin, trying to ease the pressure. The indents of forming stretchmarks bow under your fingers, and even in your state you can have a coherent thought about how much you've consumed to do this. You've eaten so much in two days that you're virually ripping your skin. You moan again, but not just because you're full.

There's no way you could do anything to get off right now. You're too fat to reach even when not gorged like a tick. You can't bounce your gut or rut against it, you might explode. Still, waves of euphoria build as you rub your belly, getting more worked up by the thought that you can't do anything about this. You're trapped by your own hedonism.

And you want more.

Somehow, you think you have room. Somehow, you think another drink is good for your spinning head.

You open your eyes. There's no way you can haul yourself off the couch now, so what's nearby?

There, on the coffee table, is a fourth bag of food from the delivery. How did you miss opening that? You grasp desperately for it, managing to snag a handle and pull it towards you. It feels heavy; you were going to put the bag on your belly table, but that much weight on top of it right now would make you explode. You peer inside, and despite your state, give a little wiggle of excitement. There's a pumpkin pie, fruit crumble, and two more bottles of wine. Some part of you knows you should wait to digest a little, maybe metabolize more of the alcohol, but said alcohol quickly shushes that part.

The wine is a screw top, but you're so sloppy you're having a hard time gripping and twisting. You end up using your teeth; you spit the cap away somewhere on the floor and take big gulps from the bottle. Your head is feeling awfully heavy again, and keeping it upright is becoming a challenge. So you lean it on the back of couch and tip the wine bottle back. You get nearly half the bottle into your gut. Heavy panting wracks your chest, interdispersed with drunk moaning. Hiccups start right back up, sloshing all the wine in your belly with every jolt. The sloshing of your gut releases several boozy burps, and between those, the hiccups, and your moaning, you can't be quiet for even a second. Your belly throws in a good amount of whining and gurgling, just adding to the sounds of your wicked hedonism.

The wine is starting to blanket you hard, and you know you'll pass out any second, but you just want a little dessert.

Sitting up is actually impossible, so you have to kind of lean sideways, being careful not to squish your belly. You grasp blindly in the coffee table's direction, hoping you'll get one of the dessert trays. Your hands latch onto the fruite crumble, and you manage to pull it back to you without dropping it on the floor. You do the same with one of the plastic spoons they sent, and get to work.

You swallow down mouthfuls around pesky hiccups, doing your best not to choke. Every bite stretches your gut and draws a moan out of you. The moans turn to whining as the pressure starts to throb, but your hedonistic frenzy continues. Almost all of the wine bottle is gone, and you've made it through a quarter of the crumble. Even in your inebriated state though, you know you need to stop. The crumble gets pushed to the side, and you realise just how much damage you've done.

The ache in your belly is turning into a sharp pain, and your stomach is definitely being stretched. Your breath hitches whenever you inhale. All you can do is lay there and hold your bulbous gut, hoping you don't explode. You've gorged to this point before, but always with your feeder. Turns out, you're enough of a hog you can do it by yourself now.

Your eyes will not stay open, nor can you keep your head straight. Your chins bunch up as you rest on your fatty chest mouth agape and drooling a bit. The booze and weed are trying to lull you into passing out, but the ache in your belly won't let you fall asleep completely. You just have to lay there, suspended between conscious and not, completely unable to do anything, just revelling in the sensations left from your gorging.

Your skin feels hot and itchy, and not just over your gut where you can see your new stretchmarks. Well, if you could see; everything is so blurry, it's hard to make out any finer details. Half-hearted burps continue to fall out of you, your belly audibly trying to digest the onslaught of food you've indulged in. You'd love to rub the cramps away, but commanding any part of your body to move is incredibly difficult. You manage a few rubs before losing the connection between your weed addled brain and your hand, and you're back to just laying there.

Another movie finishes. It's late now. You haven't passed out entirely yet, but you can feel the food coma starting to override your belly ache. But not quite.

The wine. There's a little bit left of that open bottle. You try to focus to grab it, but it takes a few tries. You almost fall over sideways once your hand lands on it, but you use all of your momentum to swing back the other way, and pull the wine bottle to you. It bounces on the side of your taut belly and you belch again.

You hold the neck to your mouth and take a deep breath. You've had so much wine you almost feel sick, but you can't leave this little amount! The last of the bottle gets chugged down, and you finish with a gasp. Gurgles rise from your belly but are drowned out by your panting and moaning. The bottle drops to the floor with a soft thud as you loosen your grip on it. Your hands fly to your gut and sloppily rub it, heat building from your middle. You know you can't reach to do anything about it, but the friction of your belly against your thighs and crotch is enough in your state.

You're such a fat pig, you can get off with your overstuffed gut.

Well, you could. But right as things are building, that last bit of wine hits, and you can no longer make any part of your body move. Right before you lose conciousness you think

This could be your new favourite Christmas tradition.

[milk-breadx]

with a ring pop, i'll get down on one knee - m. s.

mike schmidt x gn!reader

Fluff! ??? to Fiancés?!

A late night trip and you three stop by a convenience store. Abby finally gives you two the push you needed.

word count: 1,440 words

warnings: movie spoilers?

"Okay, okay, okay. 80's or 50's?"

"Really? These are the best options?"

"We've been here for a while, I think we've exhausted all other interesting options." You reach for another bottle of soda, opening it and letting the fizz settle down before taking a sip. "Now, pick,"

The two of you were perched on top of the trunk of his car. Very late at night, the nearest landmark being a nearby convenience store where you bought some chips and drinks to enjoy while you wait 'till you both weren't feeling droopy to continue your road trip. Abby, sound asleep at the back seat, who said she wanted to "stay up with you guys", was very eager to go on this trip. Especially since she rarely gets to go out with you and her big brother. Poor thing fell asleep and you didn't have the heart to wake her, so Mike stayed to watch her while you went to purchase some refreshments. Now, at the back of his car, you two talked nonsense for what felt like forever.

"Uhh, the latter." He takes a chip from the bag and eats it, all the while your eyebrows furrow at his answer. 

"Really?" The tone was laced with disbelief and you eagerly wait for his defense.

"What? You'd rather pick the 80's?"

"Uh, yeah? against the 50's who wouldn't?" You playfully nudge him on the shoulder, unknowingly bringing up his memories from his last job as a night guard at the pizza place. Your eyes widened when the realization hit you. "...Oh."

"Idiot." Mike flicks your forehead and you raise your palm to cover it after he does. You remembered that morning at the hospital when you received his call and rushed there only to find him injured, officer Vanessa unconscious, and Abby scared to leave his side. You could've sworn you almost passed out after hearing what happened a few hours before.

Ghost children possessing robot animals? Murderer who wears a yellow bunny suit? It all sounded funny but the serious looks in their eyes and their very REAL injuries made you believe them. Since then, you've been more active in helping them out. Whether it be moving in with them to help with the bills and keeping Abby company while Mike's out to look for a job or planning something for the three of you to enjoy, all to get them to recover and forget the whole ordeal about the pizzeria.

So now, 7 months after the incident, Mike got a job, and you both saved up some money to go on a trip for the weekend.

"I didn't realize! Sorry!" You sheepishly replied and Mike gave a small laugh. That moment made you pause for a bit. Mike had no time to relax for a long time, so it was refreshing to see him smile and laugh.

"When do you think we should get going? It's probably midnight by now and I am dying to sleep. Y'know? While you drive us the rest of the way there." He says and you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

"Hey! You said you were gonna stay up with me like I stayed up when you drove!" Mike shakes head and continues eating his chips. 

"No, no, I don't remember making that kind of agreement." A playful smirk starts making its way to his face. "I do recall you insisting to stay awake with me even though I said you should go to sleep," This little-

"Yeah! Because we're traveling at night, can't have us end up in a ditch somewhere?!"

The car door opens and shuts. Turning around, you see Abby rubbing her eyes as she makes her way towards both of you. Mike calls out to her and helps her sit in between the two of you.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Her droopy eyes turn to you and then to Mike.

"You looked like you were deeply asleep. Sorry, did we wake you?" Grabbing a cold bottle of water, bought specifically for Abby, you tried opening it. Noticing this, Mike grabs the bottle and opens it before handing it to his sister. You whispered "I loosened it for you" to him before Abby speaks again.

"No. But are we there yet?"

"Not yet. We stopped here because we were getting sleepy and wanted to rest for a bit before we go." You handed her the plastic bag that had 2 bags of chips left for her to pick. "You excited to be there already?"

She picks one from the bag and opens it, grabbing a chip and eating it. "Yeah. Can we go on more trips soon?"

You and Mike share a look, unsure how to respond, so he answers for you. "We'll see, Abs,"

She doesn't respond to that. Instead, she asks you another question. "Are you going to keep staying with us? I like when you're around."

"Of course. I'll be here until Mike kicks me out." She chuckles at your response before turning to Mike. "You're not gonna kick them out, are you?"

"We'll see, Abs."

You playfully glare at him and he shrugs. 

"Why don't you two just get married?"

Abby continues to eat, unaware how her question sounded to the both of you, but aware of your unique kind of friendship where borderline lovers was the most appropriate thing to actually call what you and Mike had. The fumble of words from you two comes quick but Abby doesn't take back her suggestion.

"You two have known each other for years and we've been living together for months now. I know you two have arguments sometimes, but you always work it out." She whispers the last part but the both of you hear it clear as day. "Plus you said you like each other-"

Two voices yelled out, "Abby!" You and Mike look at each other, the realization setting in that she's right. When you two looked away, silence ensued. Mike was the first to speak. "Maybe...maybe marriage... is too..."

"Fast?"

"Yeah,"

Abby's smile grows but she's tired of waiting for the two of you awkwardly fumble your words and just wants the two of you to get together. Yes, she's noticed the way you take care of her and Mike and how Mike takes care of you. How the house has been much livelier with you around and how well the three of you have been since living under the same roof.

Mike's also noticed how much better the two of them have been since you've gotten closer to them. He can't deny he's embarrassed but also flustered when the parents of Abby's classmates mistaken the both of you as her parents--A story for another time. He's open to the idea. Looking back to the times you two stayed up to watch some popular sitcom that was playing on the TV or messing up a new dish you three wanted to try, Mike really felt at ease those days. And the fact that Abby loves you too is an added bonus.

"Just propose already! You can get married years from now, just ask them already!" Abby grabs his shirt and you laugh as you see her futile attempt to shake him. 

Mike sees you and realizes he loves you. He cherishes you and wants nothing more than to see you smile and laugh over and over again. To be part of your life for the rest of his.

"Okay, okay, Abby stop." He grabs a hold of her hands before looking at you. "Will you-"

"You already don't have a ring, at least get down on one knee!" You laugh again at Abby.

Mike sighs and is ready to get up and down on the ground when he quickly runs to the convenience store. You and Abby share a look of confusion until he returns, unwrapping something in his hands. You couldn't see what it is until he got down on one knee and presented it to you.

He says your name softly and you get down from the trunk in front of him, smiling at the ring pop he's proposing with. "Will you marry me?"

You nod, giving him a small yes and let him put the ring pop on your ring finger. Too excited, Abby gets down and hugs you both so hard, you three almost topple over. But none of you cared. Abby was happy to see you and her big brother finally get together. Mike, relieved you said yes and was willing to be with him. You, happy to have these two brighten up your life.

I swear I was gonna finish that ushijima fanfic first but plans have changed and I have a new husband(a whole series was planned out in my delulu head)-

work by milk-breadx. DO NOT COPY/REPOST/MODIFY WORKS WITHOUT PERMISSION

[jetii]

Event Horizon Chapter Seven: Forward (Rex POV Rewrite)

Contribution to @clonexocweek | Theme: Introduction

Pairing: Rex x Soma (Goldie)

WC: 3,081

Tags/Warnings: Rex being an awkward cutie patootie as per usual, mention of blood/battle scenes

A/N: This is a retelling of Rex and Goldie's second meeting in my x reader longfic Event Horizon from Rex's perspective. The timing of this week perfectly synced up with the latest chapter where it's revealed just how down horrendous Rex is for her, so I'm thrilled about that lol.

Experimenting with third person perspective vs second person here and in future EH one-shots for my own amusement. Soma "Goldie" Anathorn is my pride and joy Reader turned OC, and some day I'd like to rewrite EH in third person too.

Join the Taglist | Masterlist

When Rex walks into the hangar, trailing behind Commander Tano, he's expecting to see General Skywalker and Cody. He's expecting a plan, a list of objectives, a timeline.

He's not expecting her.

At first, it's not her he sees, just a Jedi. It's her clothes, and the lightsaber, and the confident set of her shoulders. He'd read the briefing, of course. But the briefing didn't say much. The briefing didn't include what General Soma Anathorn looked like, how she carried herself, what her voice sounded like. It certainly didn't include that she was the very same Jedi he'd pulled out of the desert on Geonosis.

And then she's turning, and the shock is so great that he nearly trips over his own feet.

He'd recognize those eyes anywhere. They'd been burned into his mind for months, the color, the emotion, the depth. They're a little softer now, a little less intense, but there's no mistaking them.

She recognizes him, too. He can see it in the way her eyes widen, in the way her mouth parts. There's a look on her face, a hint of awe, and he wonders if he looks the same, if the shock is mirrored in his expression.

Her mouth moves, her lips shaping his name, and it feels as though time slows. He's standing in the sand again, the sun beating down on his armor, the heat making his skin prickle. The smell of sweat and dirt and blood is in the air, and the sounds of the battle echo in his ears. He can hear the buzzing of the bugs, the cries of the dying, the distant explosions.

As quick as the memory comes, it's gone. He's back in the hangar, and she's saying his name, and the world spins back into focus.

She looks the same. The same dark, wild hair, the same warm skin, the same fierce determination. The features are just as beautiful and striking as he remembers, even more so without the blood and dust and exhaustion.

She looks the same, and it's a punch to the gut, like he's been thrown out an airlock and can't breathe. He'd forgotten, somehow, the effect she'd had on him. The effect she was still having. She looks just as she did in his dreams, just as she did when he'd thought about her, wondered what became of her. And now, here she is. He has half a mind to pinch himself, just to see if he's awake.

And then he remembers where he is and who's watching, and the feeling is replaced by embarrassment. He schools his expression into a mask of calm professionalism and tries to suppress the flush on his cheeks.

"Do you two know each other?" Ahsoka asks. Rex fights the urge to glare at her. It's an innocent question, and he knows it, but he can't help the annoyance. She looks like she's barely containing her glee, the grin on her face so wide her eyes are crinkling.

"We've met," Rex manages. The words sound strange, like they're coming from someone else, but they're steady. It's a small mercy. He glances at Skywalker and then back, nodding. "Good to see you again, General."

"Good to see you, too," she replies, and her lips twitch. 

Her eyes rove over him, taking him in, and there's an intensity in her gaze that makes his heart race. It's not a bad feeling, not at all. In fact, he's enjoying the attention, if he's being honest. There's something about the way she's looking at him, the way her eyes are locked on his, that makes him feel a little hot under the collar.

For a moment, no one speaks, and the silence stretches between the five of them. General Kenobi is watching him like a hawk, and Skywalker and Ahsoka are exchanging conspiratorial glances. He has a feeling they're going to make fun of him later. 

He has no doubt that Ahsoka will tell the rest of the men, and he's not looking forward to the teasing that's sure to come. He's already endured enough teasing about his apparent lack of interest in women and his devotion to his job. He can't imagine the shit he'll have to put up with when word gets out that the woman he's been daydreaming about is actually a Jedi General. And not just any Jedi either. One with a reputation.

But all that is a problem for later. Right now, his only concern is keeping his expression neutral and his pulse steady.

"So, uh, how do you two know each other?" General Skywalker asks after a minute.

"He saved my life," she answers, and there's a hint of a smile in her voice, her eyes still on his. "On Geonosis. He dragged me back to the ship when I was injured."

"It was nothing, sir," he mumbles. He rubs the back of his neck and tries not to let the flush show. "Any trooper would've done the same."

"Maybe, but they didn't," she insists. She takes a step closer to him, and her eyes narrow, her jaw setting. There's a fierceness in her expression, a stubbornness that reminds him of the first time he met her. "You did."

He can't think of anything to say to that, his mind completely devoid of any coherent thought. She's still looking at him like she wants to memorize every inch of his face, and it's making it impossible for him to concentrate.

The sound of General Kenobi clearing his throat breaks the spell, and he snaps his head to the side. The man is looking at him with a mixture of confusion and suspicion, his arms crossed, his expression contemplative. He can't help but wither under his gaze, the scrutiny making him squirm.

General Kenobi is a good man and a good general, but he's also her closest friend and confidant. The two of them are practically family, and it's well known among the men that they're often joined at the hip. He knows, and fears, what the man would do to him if he knew how often Rex had thought about the woman in front of him, and the thoughts he'd had.

But to his relief, General Kenobi simply sighs and shakes his head.

"I can't believe it," he murmurs, and he sounds as bewildered as Rex feels. "The odds..."

"Me either," she says softly.

Kenobi and Skywalker exchange a look, their brows furrowed, and Rex takes the opportunity to steal another glance at her. She's looking back at him, a small smile on her face, and he can't help but return it.

The whole thing is surreal, like something out of the holonovels he keeps tucked under his bunk. To meet her again, here, after everything, seemed almost too good to be true. And yet, she was standing right in front of him.

“Then it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude, Captain," General Kenobi begins, and his words are measured, careful. "For doing what I could not. You have my thanks."

Rex blinks and tears his gaze away from her. Kenobi looks as calm and composed as ever, his hands clasped behind his back, but there's a tension in his shoulders, a stiffness, that betrays his true feelings.

"There's no need for that, sir," he insists. "Anyone would have done the same."

His words are sincere. Any trooper worth their salt would have done the same, would have risked their lives to save a Jedi. But there's a part of him, a tiny, selfish part, that's glad it was him. 

As soon as the thought appears, he shoves it down, down into the dark, hidden place in his mind where he keeps all the things he's not allowed to think, the things he doesn't let himself feel. It's not the time or the place, and besides, there's no point. She's a Jedi, and he's a clone, and that's all there is to it.

Kenobi holds his gaze for a moment, and then nods, accepting his answer. He hears Skywalker snort, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ahsoka roll her eyes. He tries not to look annoyed and fails, glaring at the two of them. They respond with matching smirks.

"If you say so, Rex," Anakin says, a teasing note in his voice. He looks over at Kenobi and grins. "Seems like the Force has a sense of humor."

"It appears so," Kenobi agrees, glancing at General Anathorn. "Quite the coincidence, isn't it?"

"It certainly is," she replies, her tone dry. 

She arches an eyebrow and shoots them both a pointed look, one that makes Rex's lips quirk upward. He's not the only one on the receiving end of their teasing for once, and it's nice to know that someone understands the feeling.

"I guess I'll be seeing a lot more of you, Rex," she says, and there's a smile on her face, a twinkle in her eyes, that makes his breath catch.

"Yes, it appears that way, sir," he replies, his voice gruff. He forces himself to look away, his eyes darting back to Ahsoka and General Skywalker, and the sight of their matching grins does little to calm him. 

"I look forward to working with you," she adds.

Rex can't help but glance back at her, his cheeks warming. He tries, and fails, to fight the smile that's threatening to spread across his face. "Same here."

He knows it's unprofessional, and that he needs to get a grip. But it's hard to keep a cool head when the woman he'd been thinking about for the last six months is standing in front of him and telling him she wants to see more of him.

He'd spent so long trying not to think about her. He'd told himself, repeatedly, that it was silly to hold onto the memory of a single meeting. It was nothing, his brain trying to make sense of the chaos and trauma of Geonosis. That was what he'd convinced himself. The product of adrenaline, and the fact that she was quite literally the first woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

But now, faced with the reality of her, the physicality of her presence, he has to admit that he's not as good at lying to himself as he thought.

"As touching as this is," General Skywalker begins, and he claps a hand on Ahsoka's shoulder. "We really should be going. Felucia won't liberate itself."

The young Togruta sighs, her head drooping slightly, but she allows herself to be led away. Rex watches her go, his lips forming a tight line.

"Right," Kenobi says, turning to her. "We shall see you on the ground."

He motions for General Anathorn to follow him, and she takes a few steps towards the transport before stopping. She glances over her shoulder at Rex, a small, apologetic smile on her face, and her eyebrows lift.

"I'll be right there," she says to Kenobi.

Rex can't help but stare as General Kenobi's eyes widen, and his lips press together. She shoots him a look that seems to communicate something, and the older Jedi raises an eyebrow. It's strange, the way they seem to have an entire conversation without saying a word, and he can't help but feel like he's intruding on something.

"Of course, my dear," Kenobi finally says, his tone light. "Don't be too long."

Her lips pull downward, and she rolls her eyes, though there's no real annoyance in the expression. Kenobi grins and gives her shoulder a pat, and then turns and waves down Commander Cody.

The two men stand a respectful distance away, and Rex watches them for a moment, debating whether or not to break the silence. He's not sure what he's supposed to say, or even what he wants to say. His mind is a mess of questions and emotions, and it's difficult to focus on any one thought.

She's a Jedi. He knew that. Of course, he did. But seeing her again, it's hard to think of her in the same way. She's different, somehow. More...real.

He's not sure why it matters so much. It's not like she's any different than she was six months ago. But he can't help but feel like everything has changed.

She's watching him, and there's a flush in her cheeks, a shyness in her gaze. She takes a few steps towards him, her arms crossed over her chest, and he has the distinct impression that she's as at a loss as he is.

“It’s...good to see you again, sir. And, uh, it's nice to put a name to a face," Rex finally manages, his voice formal, almost stilted. He keeps his tone light and friendly, hoping that his nerves don't show through.

"Agreed. It's nice to put a face to the name," she replies, and he smirks.

"It's not exactly a unique face, sir, but I appreciate the sentiment," he teases, unable to resist the urge to joke.

The response is immediate. She lets out a short, surprised laugh, and her expression softens, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It sends a shiver down his spine, and his embarrassment melts away, replaced by a surge of pride.

"No, I suppose it's not," she chuckles. Her eyes rove over him, taking in every feature, and his heart skips a beat. "Still, I like it. It suits you."

Rex can't stop the grin that spreads across his face, and his cheeks heat, a warmth spreading through his chest. His brain seems to have stopped working, his mind struggling to form a response.

"Thank you, sir," is all he can manage, the words coming out a little breathless under the weight of her stare.

She gives him another smile, this one more mischievous than the last, and his mouth goes dry. He doesn't think she's teasing him, not intentionally, but the way her lips quirk, the way her eyes shine, makes him suspect that she enjoys seeing him flustered.

The idea doesn't bother him as much as it probably should.

“I didn’t realize you were a Captain now," she continues.

"I am, sir," he answers, grateful for the change in topic. He takes a breath, regaining his composure. "I started my training after Geonosis, and I was promoted to Captain shortly after the start of the war."

"Impressive, Captain," she praises. She leans in slightly, her eyes brightening. "That's quite the accomplishment."

There's a warmth in her tone, a sincerity, that makes him blush again. He tries not to let it show, and he's only partially successful. His lips form a tight line, and he gives a short nod in thanks.

"I always wondered what happened to you," she says slowly. Her gaze drifts away, and she bites her lip, her brows furrowing. “I thought... well, I wasn't sure if you made it out alive."

Her words are raw, honest, and the weight of them hangs heavy in the air. It takes him a moment to process what she's saying, to understand the implication of her statement, and he finds himself blinking, a sense of shock washing over him.

She'd thought about him.

He'd thought about her, too. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that he'd been unable to stop thinking about her. But he'd never expected that she would think about him as well. He'd assumed she'd forgotten him, that his brief appearance in her life was nothing more than a footnote, a passing memory.

But she remembered him. She remembered him, and his name, and what he'd done.

The knowledge fills him with an emotion he can't quite identify, and it takes him a moment to realize that it's gratitude.

"I didn't think you would remember me, sir, if I'm being honest," he manages after a beat, his tone softer, his eyes searching. "But, if it's any consolation, I wondered the same thing."

"How could I forget?" She shakes her head, and the strands of hair sway, framing her face. "I would have died on that planet if it wasn't for you."

His lips part, and his eyebrows raise. He'd had no idea that her condition had been so dire, or that his actions had meant so much to her. It certainly hadn’t felt like that. In his memory, she had fought beside him with a ferocity and skill that he could barely comprehend, and she’d fought stubbornly against his attempts to help her in equal measure.

"And don’t say anyone would have done the same," she interrupts. Her voice is sharp, almost commanding. The look on her face, the stern frown and the narrowed eyes, is both adorable and terrifying. He's not sure whether to be amused or intimidated.

"Alright, I won't," he promises, fighting the urge to laugh.

"Good,” she huffs, and she crosses her arms over her chest, her expression petulant. "Because you'd be wrong."

Rex laughs at her insistence, the sound bursting from his lips before he can stop it. She frowns at him, her eyes narrowing further, and the reaction only makes him chuckle more.

She's ridiculous, and stubborn, and fierce, and incredibly frustrating, and, Maker, he likes her.

"So, you've said," he agrees, once he's composed himself, though the smile remains. "What I was going to say was that you gave me a hell of a fight over it. You were very insistent, as I recall."

"I suppose I was," she admits, and the admission is accompanied by a sheepish laugh. Her cheeks color, and she bites her lip, her eyes lowering. "I was reckless."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, sir," he responds immediately with shake of his head. "You did what you had to do, and it was brave. It's an honor to serve with someone like you."

She pauses, and her eyes widen. For someone so capable, so skilled, it's clear that she's not used to receiving praise. The thought bothers him. He'd seen only a glimpse of what she can do, but he’s starting to suspect that she hasn’t seen it herself. She was a formidable fighter, and the fact that she wasn't aware of that is concerning. A soldier’s confidence is often a matter of life or death, and the lack of confidence can lead to fatal mistakes.

She needs to believe in herself.

He wants her to.

"I don’t know about that," she says, her voice quiet. "But, thank you."

Rex nods. He's not sure how to put his thoughts into words, and he can't quite seem to find the right words. It frustrates him. He's always been a good speaker, had always been able to convey his ideas and his opinions with ease, but something about her makes him hesitate, makes him unsure of himself.

He's not sure why. He doesn't know her.

Well, not really.

"Well, I'd better be going," he blurts out. His eyes flicker over her shoulder, and the sight of Cody and General Kenobi watching, their eyes glued to the two of them, fills him with a sudden sense of self-consciousness. Cody is looking at him like he's lost his mind, and Kenobi is giving him a knowing look.

The feeling intensifies when he realizes just how long they've been standing there, talking, and he tries not to panic.

"Looks like General Kenobi is waiting for you," he says, trying, and failing, to affect a casual tone.

General Anathorn's gaze follows his, and she rolls her eyes. The irritated pout is back, and he bites his cheek to keep from grinning.

"Yes, I can see that," she sighs.

"Good luck, sir," he offers, his tone teasing.

She snorts. "You, too, Captain."

The words are accompanied by an exaggerated sigh, and the corners of his mouth lift, despite his best efforts. She's a far cry from the intimidating figure he'd imagined during the months after their first meeting, and he's enjoying getting to see the more relaxed side of her, the softer, gentler side.

There's a comfortable silence between them, and for a moment, he allows himself to hope. Hope for what, he's not sure, but he hopes nonetheless. Then, a familiar sense of caution washes over him, a cool wave that chases away the warmth in his chest, and he forces himself to turn.

It's not until he's back in the shuttle, surrounded by his men, that Rex allows himself a moment of relief. He'd gotten through the conversation without completely embarrassing himself, and, despite the tension, the awkwardness, the interaction had been... pleasant. He had even managed to make her laugh.

It's enough.

He knows it is.

And yet, he can't shake the feeling that it's not.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @aynavaano @floofyroro

@ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon

@heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bimboshaggy @bunny7567

@lostqueenofegypt @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay

@callsign-denmark @julli-bee @moonychicky @captn-trex @feral-ferrule

@webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @cw80831 @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino

@sensitive-shark @kashasenpai @kkdrawsdecently @isaidonyourknees @awkwardwookie

@sugarrush-blush @lunaastars @capricornrabies @champagnejaig @silly-starfish

[isak-dot-gov]

I'm gon' make you feel it

A/n: Uh hey. This is the first time I'm posting on here so I hope you like it. Kinda nervous btw. Also not proofread.

Word count: 2226

Summary: Months after you and Rhea break up, your best friends decide to take you out for a night in the city after not seeing you for a while. while there, you run into Rhea and the rest of the Judgement Day.

Warnings: Suggestive(nothing actually done tho)

My masterlist :)

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

“Y/n, come on. We haven’t gone out in so long,” I heard Jasmine say.

“She’s right, y/n/n, you’ve been MIA for so long now. Please come out with us,” Eve says.

Jasmine and Eve have been my best friends since the three of us were in the first grade. We were placed at the same table in the classroom’s seating chart on the first day and we’ve been friends ever since. They have been with me through all my highs, lows, and everything in between. From celebrating birthdays and acing tests to comforting each other through heartbreaks and family troubles, our bond has only grown stronger. We've shared countless sleepovers, road trips, and late-night talks that have made us inseparable.

Tonight they were trying to get me to join them on one of our ‘late night adventures’. Basically what would happen is that we would get ready to go out and hit the city with zero plans or expectations on what we would be doing or what the outcome of the night would be. Sometimes it would be going from one club to the other and sleeping over at one of our houses. Other times it would end with us getting matching tattoos. The most recent one of these nights was about six months ago, a month after I broke up with Rhea. We got tipsy, went to a trampoline park and I ended up getting a brand new set of nipple piercings. To say these nights were some of the most fun I’ve ever had would definitely be an understatement.

“Girls, I don’t think I’m up to it tonight. I’ve been so busy with work lately,” I said with a tired sigh. Ever since Rhea and I broke up, I’ve thrown myself into my work as a way of avoiding the feelings I not only had for our situation but for her as well. Rhea and I broke up seven months ago after a huge argument. She felt that I shouldn’t be having so many female friends and that I could potentially be cheating on her with one of them, which was completely untrue. The reason I had so many female friends was because I was in an all-girls school for my whole primary and highschool, because of this women have always taken up the majority of my social life. Unfortunately for me, Rhea had always been the jealous type and no amount of reassurance that I gave her ever seemed to calm the green monster that tended to take over whenever I hung out with people she didn’t like. Getting to the point where I was willing to let her go was hard, but I was able to do it after Jasmine and Eve showed me exactly how unhealthy we were together.

I was a wreck for a few weeks after the breakup. Rhea would constantly call, so much so that I had to turn my phone off and only have it on during the hours that she spent working because I knew she tended to stay far away from her phone during those hours. I never wanted to leave the house and I barely got any sleep in. Thankfully, my best friends got sick of it quite quickly and made me start coming out of my shell again.

“Girl, that’s exactly why we should be going out tonight,” Eve says.

“Let loose a little. Give us 30 minutes of your time. We promise if you really feel uncomfortable after that time we’ll go to my place and watch a movie or something,” Jasmine says.

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” my best friends say in unison. 

“Ok ok, I’ll do it,” I say with a smile.

“Yes!”

“Fuck yeah!”

___________________

Two hours later and I’m sitting on a bar stool with my friends on either side of me and my third drink of the night in my hand. We reminisce on our primary and highschool years when four people enter the bar and completely shift the atmosphere in the room. I notice the bartender slightly shift her posture and briefly check herself in the reflective wall that stood behind her, facing those sitting in the bar. After she does so I hear a familiar voice next to me say and my high spirit for the night is immediately crushed.

“Uh can I get two whiskeys on the rocks, a gin and tonic, and a martini?” Damian, Rhea’s friend and fellow Judgement Day member, says next to me. I freeze and shut my eyes tightly, while doing so, I hear Jasmine and Eve fall silent and keep their eyes on me. Once I open my eyes, I notice their eyes on me as they carry sympathy for my current state.

“Oh hey, y/n. I haven’t seen you since…” he trails off and I can hear the cautious tone in his voice as he stops himself from saying anything that would make me uncomfortable. I always preferred Damian over the rest of Rhea’s friends, he always felt the need to make sure I was ok and in moments like these, I really appreciated him for it.

“Hey, Dami. How have you been? What brings you out here?” I saw with a strained smile. I have no idea why I feel this way or why I’m acting this way towards him. He never did anything to me, in fact, all he’s ever done was look out for me.

“I’ve been doing alright. Judgement Day’s going to Wrestlemania, so we decided to go out for drinks as a way of celebrating,” he says with a soft smile. Soon after, the bartender brings the drinks he ordered for him and his friends with a flirty smile and a wink. Uh, ok I guess.

“Anyways, I’ll hopefully see you around. I’ll tell the rest you say hi,” he says.

“Oh you don’t need to…” I start but he walks away before I get to the end of my sentence.

“Well that went better than I thought it would,” Jasmine says obliviously. Eve and I shoot her side-eyes as she gives the two of us a genuine smile, the Essence blush she’s wearing showing on her cheeks a little more due to the lighting in the bar.

“Do you want to leave, y/n. We don’t mind if you do,” Eve says compassionately.

“No no. We were having fun. I don’t want to leave yet,” I say and genuinely mean. I haven’t felt this free in so long and I would be damned if I let Rhea’s presence in this bar ruin that freedom for me.

My friends both give me light nods and we continue with our conversation. As the night continues, one of our favourite songs from our highschool years, ‘No Hands’ by Waka Flocka Flame, starts playing. The three of us immediately get hyped and start making our way to the dance floor to dance. The start of that song marks a streak of throwback songs from the DJ and we continue dancing for a while. As we do so I feel multiple pairs of eyes on me, when I look up I notice Rhea and the rest of her friends watching me. I make eye contact with each of them one by one before my eyes focus on the girl whose whole being makes my heart dizzy. She has an attentive look with a hint of longing in her eyes as she undresses me with them. With the new found confidence in my system brought by the many drinks I've had tonight, I find it in me to wink and decide to give her a show.

‘Feel It’ by Jacquees starts blaring through the speakers and my friends and I huddle up onto each other by our fronts and backs. I’m in front with Jasmine right behind me, her left hand on my left hip and her right hand on Eve’s right hip and Eve’s hands on both of Jasmine’s hips. We start swaying together to the beat of the song and sing along. At the position I’m standing at, I have a clear view of Rhea’s booth on the upper level of the bar. She’s sitting forward with her elbows on her knees and a drink in her hand as she watches me intensely. The chorus of the song starts and I start swaying my hips in circles as Jasmine and Eve take it as a sign to follow my lead. The three of us move in sync as the song continues. I get a little too into the song as a few minutes later I feel Jasmine’s hand remove itself from my hips and two, much larger, hands replace hers on either side of my hands.

“You two wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your friend for the night, would you?” 

My girls take a moment to look at me for reassurance in the response they’re going to give and I nod lightly as a sign of telling them I’ll be ok with her.

“Oh sure, Rhea. Take her home in the morning and don’t do any weird shit,” Jasmine says as she turns her attention to Eve.

“Call us if she starts acting up,” Eve says, sending a glare with her blue eyes to Rhea. I nod and feel Rhea pull me by my waist to the exit of the bar. We walk to her car slowly and in silence as the heels I chose to wear tonight start proving to be harder to walk in. Rhea quickly got impatient with my instability and swiftly lifted me up bridal style before making the rest of the walk to her car. She opens the door to her passenger seat and softly places me in the seat before closing the door and climbing in at the driver’s side.

“You’ve never done that before,” I say as she pulls out of her parking spot and makes her way to her house.

She looks at me briefly with confusion and says, “What do you mean, y/n?”

“You’ve never opened the car door for me. That’s a first.”

“Huh. I guess it is,” she says.

As I look around in her car I notice a bright pink hair tie on her wrist. Without thinking I point at it and say, “Where’d you get that? I like it. Might just get one.”

“Sweetness, this is yours. You left it at mine after you know what happened,” she says.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” a moment of silence passes before she says, “How have you been, sweetness. We haven’t spoken in a while.”

Fuck. There’s that Australian accent that I’ve never had the self-control to resist.

“Uh, um, I’ve been good. I mean, as good as a person can be after a break up. You know, I don’t think you should be calling me that,” I say.

“Calling you what, sweetness?” she asks.

“Sweetness. It does things to me.”

She chuckles lightly before she says, “It does things to you? Whatever could you be talking about, my love?”

I tilt my head back into the headrest of the car as I exhale deeply. “Don’t play dumb with me, Rhea. We both know you’re way smarter than that. Don’t act like you have no idea all the things you do to my body by simply being this close to me. This isn’t a good idea and  we know it isn’t.”

“But I’ve missed you,” was her only response.

“I know, Rhea. And I’ve missed you too. You know that,” I say.

As she parks in her driveway she turns to me and asks, “Then why did you leave me?”

I turn towards her and respond, “We weren’t good for each other. You know that. I know that. We were only pulling each other down by being together.”

She gives me a tight lipped smile before saying, “What do I need to do? I can be better, I promise I can. I know I wasn’t a good girlfriend in the past. I was a dick. We both know that, and even when you tried to make me feel secure in our relationship I still pushed you away and blamed you for all my insecurities. I just need the chance to prove that to you. I don’t think I can hand any more time away from you, baby. Take me back. Please?”

This is a side of Rhea I’ve never seen before, and I chose to proceed cautiously because of that. She has always had the ability to use her words to get what she wants from people. However, something in the way she was looking at me made me feel like she was being sincere and my heart couldn’t help but fall for her all over again.

“Fuck I missed you,” I say as I capture her lips with mine. The kiss started out softly but turned hard and passionate really quickly. Rhea held onto me extremely tightly as if she was afraid I’d vanish at any moment. Her hands travelled to my waist and squeezed tightly, earning a breathy whimper from my lips.

“Rhea,” I said in a moan as her lips found their way on my neck.

“Mhm, baby? Tell me what you need,” she said.

“Please take me your house and fuck me.”

“That I can definitely do for you, sweetness.”

[sunny44]

I don’t wanna do it

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: just fluff

Summary: They had plans but something came up and she’s not in the mood to do it.

Carlos and I hadn't seen each other for two months due to our busy schedules, so our relationship in recent months relied on FaceTime calls and text messages. Today was the day he would come home, and we had been talking for weeks about what we would do, which obviously involved a lot of sex.

However, I wasn't having a good day; I was extremely stressed at work and spent my entire lunch break crying. I decided to send him a message because I didn't want him to arrive with high expectations and find me lying in pajamas, looking like I was about to fall apart.

Hubby ❤️

Me

Hey babe

Hubby

Hey love, are you okay?

Me

I know we had "plans" for tonight. Is it okay if we don't do it?

Hubby

Of course, my love. You don't even have to ask me

Me

I know, but I wanted to ask because I know we haven't seen each other in months, and I know you were excited about it

Hubby

It's fine. I respect your feelings, and if you're not in the mood, I'm fine with it. I'm not gonna force you into it

Me

Thank you

Hubby

You don't have to thank me. We have all the time in the world. I'm happy with just cuddles and kisses tonight

Me

I love you so much

Hubby

I love you more.

I’ll get home in a few hours

I left my phone on the bedside table, turned on the TV for background noise, and turned off the lights, curling up in the middle of the blankets to get some sleep

...

I woke up somewhat startled by the sudden weight on the bed, but I quickly calmed down when I smelled him.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scared you," he whispered softly in my ear, and I snuggled closer to him.

"It's okay," I said in a low voice. "How was the trip?"

"Tiring, smooth but tiring."

"Sorry for ruining our plans."

"Hey, you didn't ruin anything," he said, turning me to face him. "We have time for that, and I don't want you to feel pressured to do something you don't want."

"I know, it's just that we've been apart for so long, and we spent weeks planning what we would do when you arrived, and I messed it up."

"Stop saying that," he said. "You didn't mess anything up, and I don't want you apologizing. Your company is more than enough for me."

"Okay," I said, snuggling closer to him.

"Want to tell me what got you like this?" he asked, stroking my hair.

"It's just that everything that could go wrong did today," I sighed. "My boss was unbearable, demanding deadlines for projects that weren't even mine, half the staff is sick and everyone was in a bad mood. And you know how I get when people argue with me."

I admit it; I'm sensitive.

I become extremely emotional when people argue with me over something that wasn't my fault or isn't within my control, like project deadlines that aren't mine.

"I know," he said softly. "Have you thought about quitting?"

"What?" I looked at him, startled.

"You've been complaining about this senseless pressure for a while and you're tired. Don't you think leaving would be a good idea?"

"It might be, but I can't be without a job; we have bills to pay, and..." he interrupted me.

"You know that I wouldn't mind supporting you, but I know you don't want to be dependent on me. I also know you enjoy what you do, so I won't ask you to stop and travel with me. So, what about taking some time for yourself, resting your mind and then looking for something else? You know I can handle the expenses until you find something."

"I know you can, it's just that I hate feeling useless."

"You're not and never will be useless. You can either rest at home, or you can travel with me," he said, looking directly into my eyes. "We'll have more time together, and you know I drive much better with you around."

"I'll think about it." He looked at me somewhat suspiciously. "I'm serious; I'll think about it. I think you're right; I do need a break."

"Okay," he kissed my forehead, and I snuggled closer to him. "I love you."

"I love you too. Thanks for being the best boyfriend in the world and taking care of me."

"Always."

Bonus scene!

Yourusername instagram stories

“My baby is finally back”

[livwritesstuff]

i’ve been very quiet so srry - my week started with my annual performance review (which went well) and ended with an emergency surgery (also went well) so…a lot going on to say the least

this is a deleted scene from the first chapter of plant a seed

When Robin called, Steve and Eddie were in the phase of newborn parenthood where they froze every single time the phone rang (because said newborn was napping more often than not and when she was, there was a 50% chance minimum the phone would wake her up).

So when Robin called and the ringing of the phone broke the otherwise peaceful silence, Steve froze and he waited. When the baby didn't wake up, Steve exhaled a sigh of relief and answered the call.

"This is Steve."

"Hey Steve-o!"

Steve immediately recognized the voice as Robin's – of course he did, even if he hadn't heard it since she and Nancy left for a work trip in Japan a little over a month ago.

“Oh shit,” Steve said, because this means that Robin and Nancy are finally home, finally back in their Boston apartment fifteen minutes away from his and Eddie's in Cambridge instead of the opposite side of the entire world, “You’re home!”

“Yep,” Robin replied, popping the P, “That plane was a million degrees, I’m pretty sure. No more August flights if I have any say in it. Anyways – wanted to let you know we made it back unscathed. What’s new with you guys?”

“Uh…” Steve began, not totally sure where to start, because Robin didn't know about the baby he and Eddie had been placed with two weeks ago and she certainly didn't know that they're going to adopt her (because they'd landed on that decision that very day – about two hours ago, to be specific), “Well–”

“Hey, do you still have those placements?" Robin interrupted, "The kids who like to read the Goosebumps books?”

“Oh,” Steve blinked, “No. They went back with their mom a couple days after you left.”

“Damn. Been a while. Forgot this trip was longer than usual – wait, so are you between placements now, then? Hey, we should finally make that trip to P-Town!”

"Might need a raincheck on that," Steve said with a laugh, because at the moment a trip to the goddamn grocery store required at least a day's worth of planning, "We've got another placement right now – a newborn. We've had her for, uh, for just under two weeks, pretty sure."

“Shit, a newborn?" Robin repeated.

Steve faintly heard Nancy's voice, though he couldn't make out exactly what she was saying. He listened as Robin recounted to her what he'd just said, then started to laugh.

"Nancy just said that if she misses out on a chance to hold a new baby, she'll kill you," Robin told him, "Any idea when she might move on?”

Steve paused for a second. He and Eddie had decided earlier that they wouldn’t be telling anyone about the baby until the adoption was finalized, but…it’s Robin. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever kept a secret from Robin before, certainly not something this big and certainly not for very long.

He has to tell her.

“We’re, uh, we’re actually adopting her.”

Robin was silent.

Then –

“Holy shit – Steve.”

And then –

“I’m coming over right now. Immediately. Wait–” Robin stopped, “Damn, I can’t be a dick and come over unannounced anymore, can I? Because you guys have a baby. A baby. And she’s gonna be yours? What the fuck? Wait, let me start over.”

Robin paused long enough to take a deep breath.

“Steve Harrington – my best friend who’s finally fulfilling a lifelong dream of becoming a dad – when will you allow us to come and be formally introduced to our niece?”

Truth be told, Steve wouldn’t say no to a visit from Robin and Nancy that day (especially after the our niece comment), but their case worker had just started faxing over all the paperwork to get the ball rolling on the adoption process and Steve has a feeling that he might catch Eddie trying to fill that shit out as it came out of the machine so tonight they might be a little occupied.

"Tomorrow?" he suggested.

"Morning?" Robin added.

Steve laughed, "Sure. Tomorrow morning."

"Bright and early, dad. Holy fuck, I can't believe you're a dad."

"You can't?"

"No, I totally can."