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[logistifies]

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[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The S1 Bentley is For Sale! 👀

link

from the description :):

Mary is a 1934 Derby Bentley Thrupp & Maberley bodied Coupe. BLE 430 – B 96 BN. Two were made but the other one has not been seen since WW11, so she is unique. She is also the only Bentley in the world to have been blown up twice on screen. She was owned by Speed King Donald Campbell in the early fifties.

I acquired her in 2009, to go with my 1947 Mark VI. Since then the engine has been completely re-built, including a new head and block, with a new clutch put in at the same time. She has also been re-wired, new kingpins, total brake overhaul, new radiator and fuel pump with suspension and one shot lubrication system overhauled. Also had the speedometer and rev.counter serviced in 2018. She runs superbly and has just had her annual service at AB Classics, who specialise in pre-war Bentleys & Rolls Royces. (He also looks after my 1936 25/30 RR ).

She is currently insured for £295,000 and I will be looking for an offer around £265,000.

History

Ordered for Jack Odling in September 1934. One of two 3 ½ lt Coupes made by Thrupp & Maberley. The other one has not been seen for several decades and presumed lost during World War 2. Not much early history but owned by Speed King Donald Campbell in the early 1950’s. We have a photograph of the car at that time being offered for sale, with silver wheel discs. His ownership is acknowledged by all the relevant history available in various publications and agreed with both Bentley Drivers Club & Rolls Royce Enthusiasts Club records. She went through three owners from October 1954 to October 1961. Next piece of history is she was acquired by a Mr Silk of Romford in 1973 and underwent extensive professional restoration up to 1994, with a mechanical overhaul in 1994. She was back on the road in 1998. She was then purchased from P & A Wood by Andrew Smith in August 2001. He kept her until early 2008 when he sold her to Brian Classic as he did not wish to re- wire her. I bought her from Brian Classic in April 2009 with money left to me by my late Mother, Mary. We only just made the 100 miles home with many electrical problems. I am glad to say that Brian Classic eventually made a substantial contribution to the re-wiring by Jeremy Padgett. The following year going into the RREC Concours the heating nearly went into the red so back to Jeremy Padgett to sort out. Result was a complete engine re-build by Ristes, also replaced the radiator core and new clutch plate. Finally back on the road in May 2012. Very expensive period. However, she is now in superb condition, being regularly serviced by AB Classics. More recently the carburettors have been re-built. Following an accident on set in 2017 she was sent to Steve Penny at Penny Vintage to restore the damaged door. Sadly this was one of his last jobs before retiring. What a superb craftsman he is, he made a fabulous job of restoring her. Needless to say she still looks superb. I have owned and enjoyed classic cars since 1969 and Mary must be my ultimate car.

TV & Film work

...

when the call came. Jeremy, I am looking for a 1926 Derby Bentley, preferably black. Can you find me one please. I explained that they were not invented until 1933 and that mine was made in 1934 and is grey and black and has not changed since Endeavour three years earlier. Half an hour later phone goes again, can you bring your car down for production to have a look at in Ealing early next week. Production were delighted with Mary, especially after a bit of a run round Ealing. At this point no-one would tell me what it was all about, apart from the fact that this was “The Big One”. Two days later phone goes again, she is going to be Crowley’s Bentley in “Good Omens” by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. My wife quickly ordered the book and read it. The Bentley was mentioned almost 80 times. Can I please take her to a specialist body maker for her cab to be replicated for studio scenes. Can I find an interior etc. I phoned Hew at The Real Car Company, who was a tremend ous help. A complete set of instruments and a steering wheel duly arrived. Next, I was asked if I could take the car to Wokingham to be copied. Absolutely staggered to discover they wanted the car at Rushton’s Farm, where I lived from 1957 to 1963. Father’s chicken sheds had been converted into industrial units. A half hour drop off turned into four hours, as I took an old photograph album to show the current owners. The farmhouse had been separated from the rest of the farm by this time. A real trip down memory lane for me. Looking for a Derby body, seats etc, Hew recommended talking to Bob Petersen. He was stripping down a Thrupp & Maberley saloon to make one of his famous specials, so that was purchased complete with dash, seats etc so Mary could be well and truly replicated. Even changed the indicator switch so that both were identical. By this time the cast list had leaked out on the Internet. David Tennant and Michael Sheene are the main stars with others being added on a daily basis. I met many people but mainly worked with these two, especially David. He is one of the nicest guys you could ever wish to meet. Very hardworking but happily chats to everyone. I got Mary back from the farm in September, ready to start filming. The first scene was near Marlow for a two day shoot where I started to meet the cast and crew. 

Trying to teach David how to drive Mary was a bit of a struggle. Most people in their forties haven’t a clue about cars without syncromesh on all gears, and David normally drives an automatic! However, Rob, the stunt driver did know how to drive Mary and quickly picked up the fact that the clutch cannot be depressed for any length of time. The main problem with David and Rob changing over was about six inches in height. Don’t think the seat had been moved so much for years, with a gentle application of oil on the runners and avoidance of catching the carpet. During this period Mary used the registration NIATRUC, Curtain spelt backwards (the subject is the end of the world ). The Morris Minor had SID RAT , TARDIS spelt backwards. David was an earlier Dr Who! Being the grandad on set meant that I was well looked after by everyone, who made sure I had Mary in the right place and usually a radio as well. There is a lot of hanging about on set then a burst of activity. Some shots are repeated over a dozen times to get differing angles and eventually sort out which take will be used. Within a few days I was getting the hang of it, meeting the directors, the camera guys, the sound technicians, moving from location to location, usually in or around the M 25 then in central London. Naturally you can watch Good Omens on BBC iplayer and see how much Mary appeared. There are a few pictures of what it is like on set. 

[paucubarsisimp]

surprise gone wrong

pairings: lando norris x reader

summary: in which you try surprising lando...

warnings: angst, cheating

melbourne, australia – sunday night

you hadn’t been this excited in weeks.

the plane landed thirty minutes early, but it still felt like it took forever to reach the city. every step off the plane, through customs, into the cab—it all buzzed with a kind of electricity that made your fingers twitch. you were barely keeping it together.

you were going to surprise him. your boyfriend. your person.

lando.

you hadn’t seen him in three weeks. the season had barely started, but it already felt like the world was swallowing him whole. interviews, practice, media, debriefs. your conversations had gone from long, late-night calls to quick voice notes and blurry facetimes while he was on the move.

but today was different.

he won. first place. finally.

you watched it on the tiny tv at home, hands over your mouth, heart pounding with his. and when he crossed the finish line, when the team screamed over the radio, when his voice cracked through the headset���you felt it all. pride. joy. love.

you booked the flight that same hour.

you didn’t tell him. didn’t want to. it was supposed to be a surprise. you wanted to show up, wrap your arms around him, and whisper, “you did it. i’m here.”

the rooftop bar was chaos.

you barely made it through security, but someone from mclaren must’ve recognized you and let you up. the elevator was packed with strangers—some people dressed like they lived here, others clearly part of the racing circus. cameras were already out. music thumped through the walls.

when the doors opened, the night hit you full force.

neon lights. booming bass. drinks spilling over glasses. laughter, loud and echoing. flashes from phones and disco balls and champagne bottles. the kind of party that blurred together like a fever dream.

but your eyes were searching for one thing. just one.

him.

and then you saw him.

lando.

halfway across the rooftop, surrounded by a crowd of familiar faces—some engineers, a few of the pr team, people you’d met once or twice. his curls were a mess, shirt slightly untucked, a drink in one hand, and that signature post-win smile stretched wide across his face.

your breath caught in your throat.

god, you’d missed him.

you stepped forward, your fingers gripping your purse a little tighter, heart ready to burst.

and then everything stopped.

because she was there.

a girl. standing too close. laughing at something he said, one hand on his chest.

and before you could even blink, he leaned in. and kissed her.

slow. familiar. like it wasn’t the first time.

you froze.

it was like your body short-circuited. like someone hit pause on the world, but forgot to tell your heart to stop breaking.

his hand was on her waist. hers tangled in his curls—the curls you used to touch when he couldn’t sleep, when he was anxious, when he needed grounding.

and he was smiling into it. drunk. relaxed. like there was nothing wrong.

like you weren’t even real.

you didn’t know how long you stood there.

you couldn’t move. couldn’t blink. couldn’t even breathe properly.

the music was too loud. the lights too bright. the room spinning too fast.

lando norris—your lando—was kissing someone else.

and you were just… standing there.

uninvited. unseen. the girl who showed up late to her own story.

your heels clicked too loudly as you turned around. pushed through the crowd. passed people who didn’t know you, didn’t care. the elevator took forever. someone asked if you were okay. you nodded without hearing them.

once outside, the air hit you like a wave.

melbourne at night was still buzzing. people celebrating. cars honking. the city alive.

but your world had gone completely, painfully still.

you walked. didn’t know where. didn’t care.

you just needed to get away from that rooftop. away from the music. the cameras. the kiss.

you had come here to surprise him. to celebrate with him.

but he had already moved on.

sunday night – 1:42 a.m.

you didn’t remember getting to the hotel.

your phone said it was fifteen minutes away, but your mind had gone quiet somewhere between leaving the club and stepping into the empty, too-clean lobby. everything felt hazy. like you were watching yourself from the outside, like you were just playing a part in a story that was never really yours.

the keycard slid into the door with a beep. you stepped inside the room. lights off. no sounds. just the low hum of the air conditioning and the dull ache behind your eyes.

you dropped your purse on the chair. kicked off your heels. the dress, once so carefully picked for him, slid to the floor with a whisper.

you stood there in silence. bare. weightless. like if you closed your eyes, you could just disappear.

but you didn’t.

you walked to the bed, sat on the edge, and finally—finally—let it out.

not the sobbing kind of cry. not the messy, movie-scene breakdown.

this one was quieter. smaller.

it started in your chest. then your throat. then your eyes, slow and warm and unrelenting.

you buried your face in your hands. curled in on yourself.

this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go.

you’d imagined it so many times.

lando opening his hotel door and seeing you there. his eyes going wide, grin stretching across his face as he pulled you in, lifted you off your feet like he always used to. his voice thick with disbelief, “you’re actually here?” followed by kisses, laughter, maybe even tears.

you would’ve run your hands through his curls, whispered, “you did it, baby,” and he would’ve held you like the world had stopped.

that was the version you flew across the world for.

but instead, he kissed someone else.

and smiled while doing it.

your phone lit up on the nightstand.

1:51 a.m. text from: oscar

hey, lando’s pretty out of it. you coming by? he’s been looking around like he forgot something. maybe you?

you stared at it.

what were you supposed to say to that?

you started typing.

i saw him.

paused.

deleted it.

typed again.

i’m here.

no. not right.

you sat there, thumbs hovering over the screen, heart pounding in your ears.

finally, you sent:

tell him congrats.

short. distant. detached.

you turned the phone face down after that.

you laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, arms crossed over your chest like you were trying to hold yourself together. the sheets smelled like hotel bleach and artificial lavender. the kind of clean that made everything feel more sterile. more empty.

you used to feel so close to him, even when he was halfway across the world.

but now?

you’d never felt farther away.

you thought about calling someone. your sister. your best friend. anyone who could make this moment less sharp. less lonely.

but how do you explain flying across the world to surprise someone, only to find out they stopped waiting for you?

how do you explain watching the person you love put their hands on someone else like it meant nothing?

you didn’t want to talk.

you just wanted to forget.

your eyes fluttered shut. and for a second, the image played again behind your eyelids.

lando, laughing. her fingers in his hair. his mouth pressed to hers.

your stomach turned.

you rolled over, facing the wall, trying to breathe past the ache.

you came all this way. you were the surprise.

but he didn’t even notice you were gone.

flashback – eight months ago, london

the rain had come out of nowhere.

you were both soaked—shoes squishing, clothes clinging to skin, hair plastered to your faces as you ran down the narrow london street, laughing like idiots.

lando had forgotten an umbrella. of course.

“i told you to check the weather,” you teased, huddled under a shop overhang, trying to catch your breath.

“you did. i just didn’t listen.”

he was grinning. water dripping from his lashes, curls a mess. he looked ridiculous. beautiful.

you stared at him, heart full, cheeks aching from smiling.

“we’re actually drenched.”

“romantic, though.” he leaned in, bumping your forehead with his. “like a movie scene.”

“a very soggy movie scene.”

he laughed. and then he kissed you. right there, in the middle of the street, while strangers rushed past and the sky kept pouring.

it wasn’t rushed. it wasn’t perfect. but it was real.

that was the thing with lando—he made even the messiest moments feel soft. warm. like something you wanted to wrap yourself in.

later, back at his place, you sat on the kitchen counter in his hoodie while he made tea. music playing low, windows fogged up from the cold. the quiet kind of night that felt like home.

he walked over, pressed a mug into your hands, then stood between your legs, hands resting on your thighs.

“i hate how much i love you,” he said softly, eyes on yours.

you raised an eyebrow. “that a bad thing?”

he shook his head. “no. just scary. i’ve never had this before.”

you swallowed.

you’d never had it either.

“what’s ‘this’?”

“you.” he smiled, just a little. “you feel like the only thing that makes sense when everything else is insane.”

you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

“then hold onto me, yeah?”

“always.”

and you believed him.

present – melbourne, 3:13 a.m.

you were still awake.

still staring at the ceiling like it had answers.

the hotel room was quiet except for the occasional car down on the street below. you hadn’t moved much. your body felt heavy. not tired, just… hollow.

you kept replaying that night. london. the rain. his hands. his words.

he said he’d hold onto you.

but somewhere between then and now, his grip slipped.

or maybe yours did.

maybe the distance got too loud. maybe the silence in between texts got too long. maybe love needs more than belief to survive.

you reached for your phone again.

no new messages.

not from him.

not from anyone.

you considered texting him. asking why. asking if he meant to do it. if he even knew you were there. if she was just some mistake or someone he’d already planned on seeing long before tonight.

but deep down, you knew the answer.

lando never did things by accident. not like that.

you turned your phone over again. shoved it under the pillow.

whatever you had—whatever you were—maybe it wasn’t enough anymore.

pt.2 alt ending

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, lmk if you want to be added!

[bbybhr]

♡°•|Gears and grace|•°♡

Mechanic!sevika x pastor's daughter! reader

The arrival of the new neighbor wasn't subtle to say the least. The rumble of a heavy moving truck disturbed the usual quiet of the street, followed by the sharp clang of metal ramps hitting asphalt and the gruff shouts of movers. You were standing on the porch, two houses down, watching with quiet curiosity. Your mother, watering the flowers, tutted softly. "Bit of a commotion, wouldn't you say?" You hummed.

Then she emerged from the cab of the truck. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair pulled back severely. Even from this distance, the glint of metal replacing her left arm was unmistakable, catching the morning sun. A thick cigarillo was clamped between her lips, smoke curling lazily upwards as she gestured emphatically at the movers, her voice a low, authoritative rumble that carried easily down the street. Dark ink snaked visibly up her exposed right arm, disappearing under the sleeve of her tank top. She hefted a heavy box herself, biceps straining, moving with a brusque efficiency.

Your mother clicked her tongue again. "Well, everyone needs a place to live, I suppose. Bless her." There was a tightness in her voice, a familiar blend of piety and judgment that made you frown a little.

Later that afternoon, after the worst of the noise had subsided, your mother placed a foil-covered dish on the kitchen table. Perfectly baked blueberry muffins, still warm. "dear, be a good neighbor and take these over to... to the new arrival. A welcome gesture." Her eyes held a warning. Be polite. Be proper. Don't stare.

Clutching the warm dish, you walked the short distance, quietly. The house looked much the same, but the open garage was a stark contrast to the manicured lawns surrounding it. Tools lay scattered across a workbench, engine parts were piled in organized chaos,some boxes were still sealed on the ground and the air smelled faintly of oil and metal.

And there she was, wiping grease from her mechanical hand with a rag. Up close, she was even more imposing. The tattoos were intricate, dark patterns against her tanned skin. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, flickered over you as you approached the edge of the driveway. You felt suddenly very small, very... plain.

"Um, hello," you managed, holding out the dish as if shielding yourself infront of her gaze that seemed to capture everything. "My mother... we live down the street. She baked these. As a welcome." Your voice sounded breathy, unsure. You never had problem talking with strangers, you loved it in fact!but somehow your new neighbors had an...effect!

She paused, her gaze lingering for a second longer than necessary, taking in your attire. It wasn't unkind, exactly, but it was intense, appraising. She took the dish, her organic fingers brushing yours briefly. A strange jolt went through you at the contact that she didn't miss...she was seasoned woman she knew she had this kind of...effect, but you didn't seem to be one of those girls who would get effected, Not by her,not with the modesty that clinged to your style and every move even in your nervous state! well, don't judge a book by it's cover.

"Right. Thanks," she muttered, her voice rough, smoke-tinged. She didn't smile, didn't offer small talk. She just nodded curtly, turning back to the boxes, the muffins seemingly forgotten on the workbench.

You retreated, feeling oddly breathless, your cheeks warm which made your brows frown in confusion. She was unlike anyone you'd ever met. Rough, intimidating, undeniably powerful in a way that was both frightening and utterly captivating. Maybe that was the subject of your...nervousness.

That first encounter set a pattern. Drawn by an invisible pull you didn't understand, you found your way to her garage at least once a day. A pitcher of lemonade on a sweltering afternoon ("Mom made too much"). A plate of cookies ("Church bake sale leftovers"). the chain on your old bicycle conveniently slipped just as you were riding past her house. (You certainly didn't have a part in it). Soon enough because of your bike brave sacrifices you learned way more than just her name...

Your bike was a good excuse everytime that you didn't brought something over. Sevika would look up from welding something, visor flipped up, eyes narrowed behind protective goggles. You would explain the problem, feeling foolish but determined. Without much comment, she'd gestur for the bike, fixing it in minutes with deft, efficient movements of both her hands. You’d thank her profusely. She’d just grunt.

Through all these visits, You sat quietly on an overturned crate just inside the garage beside the work bench, observing her work. The focused intensity, the sure way she handled tools, the mesmerizing blend of human flesh and complex machinery in her arm. You noticed the details ... the way her muscles flexed, the calluses on her human hand, the occasional frustrated sigh when a part wouldn't cooperate. You learned to read the subtle shifts in her expression, even though she rarely spoke directly to you.

Sevika, for her part, noticed you too.picking up a fact or two about your family, your demeanor, and your preferences whenever your quiet voice filled the garage. She registered your quiet presence, the way you never seemed to fidget, your hands always neatly folded in your lap, a calmness that was unlikely in her world. She noted the modest, proper clothes,your shiny Mary Jane that never seemed to get dirty, your way of doing your hair that looked effortlessly neat, again, so different from anything in her own world. And beside this things she absolutely noticed the unwavering admiration in your eyes. It was plain, undisguised, and it stroked a part of her pride she hadn't realized was listening. The pastor's daughter, all innocence and propriety, looking at her like that.

When she found herself thinking about that quiet admiration that seemed to drop from your eyes whenever they layed on her,thinking about what might be in your mind, she wanted to laugh.It was absurd. Hilarious, even. Her and the preacher's kid? Two worlds separated by an unbridgeable chasm. Oil and holy water. Grit and grace. Impossible. Impossible?

And perhaps that was the crux of it. Sevika didn't do impossible. The very notion grated against her core. If something, or someone, seemed unattainable, it wasn’t a barrier! Oh no! it was a challenge. A puzzle to be solved, a situation to be controlled, dominated. The quiet admiration was flattering, yes, but the impossibility… that was intriguing. That sparked something deliberate within her. She would prove herself wrong. Or rather, prove the situation wrong.

One Saturday afternoon, the air thick with the smell of gasoline and summer heat, you were watching her wrestle with the stubborn engine of an old sedan. You sat in your usual spot, lost in the rhythm of her work.

Suddenly, her voice cut through the clatter of tools. Calling you.

You blinked, startled. She rarely addressed you so directly. She’d slid out from under the car, wiping grease on her jeans. Her mechanical hand rested on her hip.

"Yeah?" you squeaked.

"You just gonna sit there gawking all day?" Her tone was gruff, but lacked its usual edge. "Might as well learn something useful. Hand me that 10-mil wrench. No, the socket wrench."

Hesitantly, you stood up, your legs feeling stiff. As you stand up turning towards the workbench, she described the tool. You found the it on the cluttered workbench and walked cautiously towards her. Both of your figure now hidden behind the car from the street. The space felt charged, smaller than usual.

"Here," you offered it.

Instead of just taking it, Sevika reached out, her human hand closing over yours as you held the tool. Her skin was rough, calloused, grease ingrained in the lines, yet surprisingly warm. her thumb brushing against your knuckles as she talked. "Now, look here."

She guided your hand towards the engine block, pointing out a specific bolt. You were acutely aware of her closeness, the scent of metal and something uniquely her... smoke, maybe leather? Your breath hitched. Your mind, usually so ordered, felt scattered, unable to reconcile the strict teachings of your upbringing with the thrilling, terrifying proximity of this woman. Guilt pricked at you for reading too much into it, a familiar sting, but it was drowned out by a confusing wave of… excitement? Fascination?

Sevika demonstrated how to fit the wrench, her instructions low and steady, but her eyes weren't entirely on the engine. They flickered to your face, noting the flush on your cheeks, the slight tremble in your hand beneath hers, the wide, confused gaze you directed at her. The control she felt in that moment was intoxicating.

"You gotta... apply steady pressure," she murmured, her mechanical fingers brushing against your arm as she adjusted your stance slightly. The contact, metal against the soft fabric of your sleeve, sent a shiver down your spine. Time seemed to slow. The sounds of the neighborhood faded, replaced by the hammering of your own heart.

You looked up, needing to understand the shift, the sudden intensity crackling in the air. Your eyes met hers. Sevika's gaze was dark, unreadable, yet held a spark of something possessive, challenging. The air thickened, heavy with unspoken tension. Confusion warred with a strange, burgeoning awareness within you.

In that stretched moment, with your hand still held loosely in hers over the cold metal of the wrench, Sevika leaned down. There was no hesitation, no warning. Just a deliberate, decisive movement. Her lips met yours.

It wasn't gentle or tentative. It was firm, demanding, tasting faintly of smoke and something else entirely foreign that made your knees weak and your grip loose over the tool. The kiss was a claim, a spark igniting in the forbidden space between your two worlds, and your mind went utterly blank, consumed by the shocking, impossible reality of Sevika kissing you. Her lips moved ever the slightest on yours, it wasn't like her to kiss like that! But she knew it wasn't like you to have any experience in that filled...she was taking it slow, for your sake.

The kiss broke as deliberately as it had begun. Sevika pulled back, not far, just enough to observe you. For you, the world felt tilted off its axis. Your lips tingled, hypersensitive, the taste of her cigarillo that she smoked hour ago now was on your lips. Your lungs burned from lack of air you hadn't realized you weren't taking, and heat bloomed across your face, a tell-tale blush you desperately wished you could control. It had been… overwhelming. A clumsy, shocking collision on your part, met with a practiced, undeniable expertise on hers. You hadn't known how to respond, simply frozen under the sudden, firm pressure of her mouth.

Sevika, in stark contrast, looked entirely steady. Her breathing was even, her stance relaxed, mechanical hand leaving your arm and now resting once more on her hip. One dark eyebrow arched slightly, and a ghost of amusement flickered in her assessing eyes as she took in your disheveled state looking down on you face with the wide, stunned eyes, the slightly parted lips, the ragged catch in your breath. She saw the shock of a first kiss etched plainly across your features. Hooked, a low, satisfied voice murmured in the back of her mind.

"Well, " she murmured, her voice a low rumble that vibrated through the charged air between you. "Someone looks like they just got kissed for the very first time." She said feigning shocked.

Her words were a teasing prod, hitting the nail squarely on the head. Heat flared brighter on your cheeks. It was your first kiss, a monumental, terrifying, exhilarating first. But admitting that? Showing her just how profoundly she'd rocked your carefully ordered world? No. Some instinct, buried deep beneath the panic and the strange, fluttering excitement, urged you to mirror her coolness, to pretend this wasn't the earth-shattering event it felt like. You swallowed hard, trying to regain some semblance of composure, acutely aware that only the bulk of the sedan shielded this moment from any curious neighborhood eyes. If she wasn't standing right there, pinning you with that knowing gaze, you might have actually screamed, or maybe jumped up and down from the sheer, terrifying novelty of it all.

"Don't know what you're talking about," you managed, the words sounding thin even to your own ears. You avoided her gaze, focusing instead on a grease stain on the concrete floor.

Sevika merely smirked, a slow, confident expression that said she knew exactly what she was talking about, and knew that you knew it too. She didn't push it further then, just turned back to the engine with a grunt, leaving you reeling in the sudden silence, the ghost of her kiss burning on your lips.

Days bled into weeks. The garage, once just a place of curious observation, became a space charged with a different kind of tension. The dynamic shifted, subtly but irrevocably. Sevika began to punctuate the greasy silence not just with the clang of tools, but with kisses. They were unpredictable, never announced. Sometimes, while you were handing her a wrench, her hand would linger on yours, fingers brushing deliberately against your skin before she leaned in for a brief, firm press of lips. Other times, she might corner you against the workbench, the kiss deeper, more demanding, leaving you breathless and shaken.

She was terrifyingly good at reading you. Sevika seemed to possess an innate understanding of just how far she could push before genuine panic set in, before the ingrained guilt and fear instilled by your upbringing threatened to overwhelm the burgeoning, addictive thrill of her attention. She learned the subtle tells ...the hitch in your breath that signaled anticipation, the slight widening of your eyes when she crossed a boundary, the way you’d unconsciously lean into her touch despite your obvious nervousness. She played this knowledge expertly, doling out affection and intimacy with calculated precision, always keeping you slightly off-balance, always wanting more.

She knew exactly what she was doing, the practiced ease of her touches, the confidence in her kisses, designed to unravel you. A part of her, the arrogant, prideful part, relished the idea of someone seeing the pastor's pious daughter, willingly entangled with someone like her. It would be a delicious scandal, a testament to her power of influence. But she also recognized the brittle fear beneath your fascination. Pushing you into the public eye too soon would likely shatter the delicate connection she was forging, send you scurrying back to the safety of your prescribed world. So, for now, she granted you the privacy of the garage, the shared secret intensifying the illicit thrill for both of you.

Today felt different. An edgy anticipation hummed beneath your skin. You hadn't seen Sevika yesterday, a planned church event keeping you occupied, and the day before that, she'd been engrossed in a complex wiring job, offering no more than curt instructions and ignoring your hopeful glances. The absence of contact, after the growing pattern of unpredictable intimacy, left an annoying ache, a restlessness you didn’t want to acknowledge.

You were leaning against the workbench, watching her meticulously clean a carburetor part. She moved with that same focused intensity, her mechanical fingers surprisingly dexterous with the small components. The late afternoon sun slanted through the open garage door, casting long shadows. You traced a pattern on the dusty bench with your finger, trying to appear nonchalant.

Sevika straightened up, wiping her hands on a rag. She needed something from the higher shelves behind you. She moved towards you, her proximity instantly setting your nerves on high alert. Your breath caught. Is she…? She leaned in close, the familiar scent of oil, metal, and smoke filling your senses. Her face was inches from yours; you could see the faint lines around her eyes, the dark intensity of her gaze as she reached past you for a can of cleaner on the shelf.

Your heart, which had leaped into your throat, plummeted with disappointment. She pulled back, turning away without a word, without even a glance.

An involuntary sound, a small huff of frustration, escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Sevika paused, halfway back to her task. She turned slowly, that knowing, slightly cruel smirk playing on her lips again. "Something bothering you, Pastor's kid?"

You flushed, caught out. "No. Nothing."

"Really?" She took a step closer, invading your space again, her presence magnetic and intimidating. "Sounded like you were expecting something." Her eyes glittered with challenge. "If you want something," she said, her voice dropping lower, rougher, "you need to learn to ask for it."

The implication hung heavy in the air. Ask for it? Ask her? For a kiss? The very idea sent a wave of heat crawling up your neck. Your strict upbringing, the ingrained modesty, the sheer audacity of voicing such a desire warred with the memory of her touch, the addictive thrill of her attention, the frustrating ache of wanting it now. Embarrassment tightened your throat, but her challenging stare, the sheer force of her personality, pushed you.

"I... I just..." The words tangled on your tongue, thick with mortification. You couldn't look at her. "Maybe... could you...?"

Before the full, humiliating request could stumble past your lips, Sevika moved. Her human hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up forcefully. Her mouth crashed down onto yours, harder than before, a kiss that wasn't teasing but staking a claim, punishing your hesitation and rewarding your tentative compliance all at once. It stole the air from your lungs, demanding a response you were barely capable of giving, lost in the sudden onslaught. You would plead more often if this is the reward you'll be getting.

But then, just as you felt yourself start to sway, the kiss shifted. Her lips left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, down the sensitive column of your throat. You gasped, your head instinctively tilting back, granting her access. It was uncharted territory, a shocking escalation that sent shivers racing across your skin. She paused there, her breath warm against your pulse point, her eyes, dark and intense, searching yours. It wasn't a question asked in words, but the query was unmistakable: May I?

Every warning bell from your past screamed 'no,' screamed 'danger,' screamed 'sin.' But the feeling of her lips against your skin, the possessive grip on your jaw, the raw, predatory focus in her eyes… it silenced everything else. You couldn't speak, couldn't think, could only feel the frantic beat of your heart against her proximity. You didn't pull away. Your eyes fluttered shut.

That was answer enough.

Sevika smirked against your skin before her mouth closed firmly over the juncture where your neck met your shoulder. You jolted at the sharp, sucking pressure, a sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper escaping you. It didn't exactly hurt, but it was intense, startling, possessive. She lingered for a moment before pulling back slightly, her thumb brushing over the spot.

She surveyed her handiwork, a dark, blooming mark against your skin, a visible sign of her claim. A low sound of satisfaction rumbled in her chest. She leaned close to your ear, her voice a rough whisper that sent another wave of shivers through you.

"That's right," she murmured, the words a praise for you bravery of coming out of your comfort zone. "Good girl. Now you will know who you belong to everytime you look into the mirror."

Weeks passed, sevika ever the presistor never let the mark leave your neck, you had to constantly choose clothing with high collar but the smile on your lips screamed "worth it". Dinners at your parents�� house was usually a quiet affair, governed by polite conversation and the rhythmic clinking of silverware. Tonight, though quiet, felt different inside you. A secret warmth curled in your stomach, a buoyancy that made it hard to keep the corners of your lips from twitching upwards. You kept your eyes mostly on your plate, the high, stiff collar of your blouse feeling both protective and suffocating against the sensitive skin of your neck. The dark marks hidden beneath were a constant, thrilling reminder of Sevika, a secret language only the two of you shared.

"Mrs. Gable mentioned seeing you chatting with our new neighbor quite often, " your mother commented casually, placing a serving spoon back in the mashed potatoes "Sevika, wasn’t it?"

The sudden mention of her name made you inhale sharply, a piece of roast potato lodging itself in your throat. You coughed, eyes watering, as a strangled gasp escaped you. Your father immediately passed you the water glass, patting your back gently.

"Goodness, dear, careful," your mother fussed, though her expression held only mild concern, misinterpreting your reaction as simple surprise. "I was just saying, it’s nice you’re being so welcoming. Perhaps," she continued, turning a thoughtful look on you, "you could invite her to service this Sunday? It would be a kind gesture. Show her some community spirit."

Your father nodded approvingly. "That’s a fine idea," he said to your mother than after a pause he turned back to you "I’m really proud of you, dear, for looking past appearances and extending friendship. That’s true Christian spirit."

Guilt twisted sharply in your gut, mingling uncomfortably with the secret thrill. Spirit? Friendship? If they only knew. The image of Sevika’s lips against your neck, the possessive heat in her eyes, flashed in your mind. "Oh. Um, yes. Maybe I could," you mumbled, agreeing weakly. The thought of Sevika, Sevika with her utter lack of reverence for anything, stepping foot inside your father’s church was terrifying.

The next afternoon, back in the familiar territory of the garage, the anxiety from last night returned tenfold. You perched on your usual crate, watching Sevika work, but your usual quiet observation was replaced by a nervous fidgeting you couldn’t control something so out of ordinary for you. Your mind was occupied, What if she laughed in your face? What if she said no and thought you were trying to force your beliefs on her? Worse, what if she said no, and your parents took it as a sign she wasn’t receptive to ‘friendship’ and curtailed your visits?

Sevika, predictably, noticed immediately. She put down the wrench she was cleaning, her sharp eyes narrowing on your tense posture. She wiped her hands on a rag and walked over, stopping far too close, that familiar invasion of your personal space that still made your heart hammer. Her human hand came up, calloused thumb brushing softly against your cheekbone, a gesture that had become unnervingly familiar, a prelude to intimacy.

"Alright, Pastor’s kid," she said, her voice low. "Spit it out. You’ve been wound tighter than a spring nut since you got here.”"

Her closeness, the casual intimacy of her touch, momentarily scattered your thoughts. You took a shaky breath. "My parents… they, uh… they want me to invite you to church. On Sunday." The words tumbled out in a rush, braced for refusal or mockery.

Sevika’s expression didn’t change much, perhaps a flicker of surprise deep in her eyes, quickly masked. Church? Her? The idea was ludicrous. She hadn’t stepped inside one since… well, she couldn’t even remember. Honestly, she couldn’t care less about stained glass and sermons. But then she looked at you, properly looked. Saw the genuine anxiety knotting your brow, the way you chewed on your lower lip, the plea in your wide eyes. Seeing you this worked up, this vulnerable… fuck it. How bad could one boring hour be? Besides, the image of walking into his domain, the pastor’s holy ground, with his daughter marked and claimed by her… the sheer audacity appealed to her confrontational nature. But it wouldn’t be Sevika if she didn’t make you work for it, just a little.

She pulled her hand back, folding her arms, leaning against the workbench with feigned contemplation. “Hmmm, church,” she drawled, tapping her mechanical finger against her bicep. "Don’t know. Not really my kind of place, you know? Lotta judgment, usually."

"No, it’s not like that!" you rushed to assure her, desperation making your voice high-pitched. "Everyone’s really nice, and Dad’s sermons are… well, they’re good! Please, Sevika? It would make my parents happy..." and I don't know what will happen if you decide not to you though to yourself.

Sevika watched your earnest pleading, a slow smirk building. She already knew she was going, but the game was too enjoyable you were too adorable to resist like this. She pushed off the workbench, to lean in close again. Her eyes dropped pointedly to the high collar of your shirt. Before you could react, her fingers deftly hooked under the fabric, pulling it aside just enough to reveal the fading, but still visible, mark she’d left days before. Her head dipped, and her lips attached themselves firmly to the spot, a deliberate, possessive reclaiming. You gasped, hands automatically coming up to grip her forearms, clinging as the familiar heat and pressure sent tremors through you. She lingered, tasting her claim, reinforcing her ownership right there in the greasy light of the garage.

She lifted her head, eyes dark and intense. The smirk was gone, replaced by smoldering satisfaction. "Okay," she said, her voice rough. "I’ll go." She released your collar, letting it snap back into place, hiding the freshly renewed evidence. Her gaze held yours. "But you owe me one, Pastor’s kid. Big time. One day, I’m gonna ask you to do something for me, and you’re gonna do it. No questions asked. Got it?"

Staring into those commanding eyes, feeling the phantom heat of her mouth on your skin, you didn’t really know what else you could possibly give her, what favor she could possibly want that she hadn’t already begun to take. But trapped in the force of her will, you could only nod dumbly. "Got it."

Sunday morning arrived with a nervous flutter in your stomach. You stood near the entrance of the church with your parents, greeting familiar faces, your eyes constantly darting towards the heavy wooden doors. And then, she arrived.

Sevika stood framed in the doorway, a stark contrast to the pastel dresses and neat suits surrounding her. She wore dark jeans, sturdy boots, and a plain, dark button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal both her mechanical arm and the intricate tattoos snaking up her human one. She looked… out of place, yes, but also undeniably powerful, her usual intimidating aura somehow amplified in this setting of quiet reverence.

Your father, ever the gracious host, stepped forward immediately, hand outstretched. "Sevika! Welcome, welcome! We’re so pleased you could join us."

Sevika took his hand, her grip firm. "Pastor," she acknowledged, her voice neutral. Her eyes, however, immediately found yours across the small space. And they widened, just slightly.

You wore a simple white dress, knee-length, with short sleeves and a modest neckline it was your typical Sunday attire but sevika had never seen it. seeing you like this, bathed in the soft light filtering through the stained-glass windows, your hair neatly done, a gentle, almost shy smile gracing your lips as you met her gaze… Sevika felt an unexpected jolt. You always looked neat, proper. But today, surrounded by the trappings of your faith, you looked… breathtaking. Ethereal. An innocence so potent it was almost provocative. That kind smile, directed at her… damn it all, she wanted to drag you out of here right now, push you against the ancient stone walls and kiss you senseless, wipe that serene look right off your face and replace it with the dazed flush she was becoming addicted to.

The service began, and you found yourselves sitting side-by-side in a wooden pew. You felt Sevika’s restlessness beside you, the slight shifting, the way her mechanical fingers tapped silently on her knee. You assumed it was discomfort the unfamiliar hymns, the prayers, the sheer foreignness of the environment for someone like her. You risked a small glance; she wasn’t looking at the altar or your father in the pulpit. She was looking at you. Specifically, at the way your hands were clasped loosely in your lap as you bowed your head in prayer, your expression earnest and focused. Adorable. Utterly, maddeningly adorable.

Leaning closer during a moment swallowed by the organ’s swell, Sevika’s lips brushed your ear. Her warm breath sent shivers down your spine despite the sacred surroundings. "Where's the Restroom?" she whispered, her voice a low, rough command against the delicate shell of your ear. "End of the hall." You whispered back gesturing with a tilt of your head to the direction. "Great, yo have five minutes to come after I go" she voiced in a stern tune that didn't allow any argument.

You jolted, turning wide eyes to her. Now? Here?

Sevika merely raised a knowing eyebrow, a silent reminder of the debt you owed. Pride flared in her chest ... cashing in the favor so soon, so brazenly, right under the nose of the Pastor himself. She gave your knee a quick, firm squeeze under the cover of the pew, then stood smoothly and slipped out into the side aisle, heading towards the back.

Your heart hammered against your ribs. This was insane. Sacrilegious. But the memory of her kiss, the weight of her promise, and the undeniable pull she exerted overrode everything else. After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only two agonizing minutes, you mumbled an excuse about needing water to your mother and slid out of the pew, legs trembling as you followed Sevika’s path.

The restroom was small, utilitarian, smelling faintly of bleach and old plumbing. Empty. The lock clicked shut behind you, loud in the sudden silence. Before you could even take a breath, Sevika had you backed against the cool tile wall, her mouth descending on yours in a hungry, almost frantic kiss. It was all pent-up frustration from the service, the forced restraint, the maddening sight of you looking so pure and untouchable.

Her hands were immediately busy, fingers fumbling with the small pearl buttons at the neck of your white dress. One, two, three gave way, exposing the smooth skin of your collarbone and the tops of the marks she’d already left. Her lips abandoned yours, attaching themselves to your neck with bruising intensity, licking, sucking, biting lightly, drawing a choked gasp from you.

"So damn beautiful," she muttered against your skin, praising the way you trembled under her assault. Her hands roamed, sliding over the fabric of your dress, mapping the curve of your waist, the swell of your hip, then drifting higher to cup your breast through the material. She was trying to maintain some semblance of control, trying to just "put out the fire," as she’d thought of it, but touching you, marking you here, in this forbidden place, was intoxicating.

Her mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of fire across your collarbone, then lower still, finding the delicate skin just above the swell of your breast, hidden by the loosened dress. She nipped gently, then soothed the spot with her tongue, leaving another dark bloom against your skin.

She pulled back abruptly, breathing hard, her eyes blazing with a barely contained inferno. Her mechanical hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to hers. You looked dazed, lips swollen, eyes wide and dark, the picture of illicit surrender.

"You’re making me crazy, Pastor’s kid," she growled, her voice thick with desire. "Making me want things I shouldn’t, especially not here." She leaned her forehead against yours for a second, trying to regain control. "God help you when I finally stop holding back."

And with that lingering threat, that promise of future intensity hanging heavy in the small, sterile room, she released you, leaving you trembling against the wall, marked and claimed within the very heart of your father’s church.

An: do we want pt2? (•-•)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How the world's leading breach expert got phished

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in PITTSBURGH on May 15 at WHITE WHALE BOOKS, and in PDX on Jun 20 at BARNES AND NOBLE. More tour dates here.

If you can't spot the sucker at the poker table, you're the sucker. Also, if you think you can't get phished, you're the sucker.

I've been successfully scammed six times in my life. Each time, the scam relied on the confluence of several factors that yielded a fleeting moment of vulnerability that some scammer was able to exploit by being in the right place at the right time. I had to be lucky always, they only had to be lucky once.

The first time I got scammed was in 2008, on my first trip to India. As I walked toward the Mumbai airport taxi queue at 2AM, I was approached by two uniformed airport security guards who told me that the taxi rank had been moved in the wake of a recent terrorist bombing in Islamabad, which had resulted in all the regional airports going on high alert. The bombing was real, the airport high alerts were real. The security guards – not real. They were scammers, working with a fake cab that charged me $200 for a $20 taxi ride.

I got scammed again this way in Shanghai, at the Pudong taxi-rank. I was with my wife, daughter and parents and we split into two cabs and the drivers colluded to turn off their meters and charge us extremely high cash fares, dropping us across the street from our hotel so we couldn't enlist the doorman to interpret. Again, it was very late at night, things were confusing, and we'd had to wait for more than an hour for the cab, so we were exhausted and sweaty and divided into two groups so we couldn't coordinate strategy.

Then there was the time I got successfully phished by a Twitter account takeover worm:

https://locusmag.com/2010/05/cory-doctorow-persistence-pays-parasites/

That was also a miracle of timing – for the scammers. I got hit on a day when I was running late, when I'd just reinstalled my phone's OS and was being prompted for my passwords all over again, when I had just done a bunch of major publishing and was getting a lot of messages about my new articles. When a friend got infected by a worm that took over his account and messaged me, "Is this you?" with a link that took me to a webpage that asked me to log back into Twitter, I re-entered my password. If I'd been five minutes later in getting to that DM, I would have seen three more identical messages from other infected friends and twigged to the scam. But I just happened to look at my phone in the two-minute window when the scam wasn't self-evident, and I just happened to be distracted and flustered about running late, and I just happened to have had some life circumstances that made the generic phishing lure seem plausible.

In 2023, I got scammed by a fake restaurant. I was on the couch with a friend from out of town who'd come by to watch a movie. We were chatting and decided to order from our local Thai restaurant. The top result on Google was a paid ad (marked out with the word "ad" in 8-point, grey-on-white type) that had a plausible domain name, which led to a replica of my local place's menu, only with the prices set 15% higher. I didn't even notice – not until the restaurant called me to say that they'd had a flood of orders from these scammers, who charged their customers' credit cards 15% over the odds, then placed an order for delivery using their own credit card numbers. I ended up contesting the charge with Amex, getting the scammers' Wix and credit card accounts canceled, and shaming Google into blocking their ads:

https://nypost.com/2023/02/25/cory-doctorow-duped-by-fake-thai-restaurant-scam/

Then there's the guy who used leaked data from my credit union to impersonate their fraud department, calling me up and social-engineering me out of the last seven digits of my card number (not the last four, as is common – most banks use the same nine-digit prefix, so the final seven digits are all you need to derive the whole card number). The scammer called right after I used two dodgy ATMs in New Orleans, during my last hour in town when I was rushing around to get my most favorite sandwich in the world before leaving. It was the day that a Boeing 737 Max lost its door-plug so the airport was a zoo and we barely made the flight, so I lost the hour I'd planned to use to call the bank's fraud department back. Again: if, if, if. If he'd called an hour earlier – or later. If there hadn't been a giant aviation disaster. If I hadn't been traveling. The scammer had to get lucky once, I had to be lucky every time:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

I got scammed again last Christmas week. I was in NYC with my wife and daughter and I'd gotten great tickets to see The Outsiders on Broadway. It was my kid's first musical and to her surprise, she loved it. In the cab back to the friend's place we were staying at, we talked about what other musicals she might want to see. She loves South Park, and I'd seen banners advertising The Book of Mormon (which was created by the same people) in LA. So I looked up "book of mormon tickets los angeles" on my phone in the cab and found the production's website and ordered the tickets, working quickly in the cab because it was one of those websites that has a countdown timer so you have to finish your transaction in five minutes.

It wasn't the real Book of Mormon website. It was a scam website, reselling Book of Mormon tickets at a 200%+ markup. That fact was noted in infinitesimal writing on the main screen, which I missed in the crowded taxi backseat while I raced the countdown timer. I figured it out about 20 seconds after the transaction cleared, and immediately emailed the vendor to cancel it. All I got was a series of smug "all transactions final" emails from outsource customer service reps (in the end, I was able to get my credit card issuer to reverse the transaction, but it took months). But yeah, I got scammed by a sleazy company called "Bigstub." Fuck those guys.

Every time I got scammed, the con that got me was nearly identical to a con that I'd avoided on numerous occasions. The fact that I'm actually pretty good at spotting this kind of hustle, 99.9% of the time, didn't mean I was immune it it. It just meant that I was vulnerable under very special circumstances, and those very special circumstances do crop up from time to time.

This is the most important lesson of scams: that no matter how well-attuned you are to cons, you can still be conned. The belief that you are immune to a con actually makes you a mark. It's for that reason that I recount the tales of how I got scammed – to help other people understand that being sophisticated, alert and even paranoid is no guarantee that you will be safe.

I'm not the only person for whom a detailed knowledge of scams created immunity from being scammed. Troy Hunt is the proprietor of HaveIBeenPwned.com, the internet's most comprehensive and reliable breach notification site. Hunt pretty much invented the practice of tracking breaches, and he is steeped – saturated – in up-to-the-minute, nitty-gritty details of how internet scams work.

Guess who got phished?

https://www.troyhunt.com/a-sneaky-phish-just-grabbed-my-mailchimp-mailing-list/

Hunt had just gotten off a long-haul flight. He was jetlagged. He got a well-constructed, plausible counterfeit email from Mailchimp telling him that his mailing-list – which he absolutely relies upon – had been frozen after a spam complaint, and advising him to click on a link to contest the suspension. He was taken to a fake login screen that his password manager didn't autopopulate, so he manually pasted the password in (Mailchimp doesn't have 2FA). It was only when the login session hung that he realized he'd been scammed – and by then, it was too late. Within minutes, his mailing list had been exported by the scammers.

In his postmortem of the scam, Hunt identifies the overlapping factors that made him vulnerable. He was jetlagged. The mailing list was important. Bogus spam complaints are common. Big corporate sites like Mailchimp often redirect their logins through different domains, which causes password manager autofill to fail. Hunt had experienced near-identical phishing attempts before and spotted them, but this one just happened to land at the very moment that he was vulnerable. Plus – as with my credit union scam – it seems likely that Mailchimp itself had been breached (or has an insider threat), which allowed the scammers to pad out the scam with plausible details that made it seem legit.

Hunt's forensics on the scam are very interesting. Of especial note is the fact that Mailchimp had retained the email addresses of thousands of former subscribers who had already unsubscribed, meaning that their data was exposed as well. It's not clear why Mailchimp would do this, but I will note that the company is extraordinarily spammer-friendly and goes to great lengths to make it easy for spammers to add you to their lists, and impossible to get off of all those lists;

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/22/degoogled/#kafka-as-a-service

Getting scammed doesn't mean you were stupid, or careless. Frequently, it just means you were distracted, upset, or distraught. We're living through a moment of total, all-consuming chaos, and the scammers are sharpening their blades – not least because the people running the show are unabashed grifters who openly boast that when they get one over on you, "that makes me smart":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/04/its-not-a-lie/#its-a-premature-truth

Buyer beware – it's ugly out there, and it's gonna get a lot worse before it gets better.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/04/05/troy-hunt/#teach-a-man-to-phish

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecomms.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[thatdisasterauthor]

Wildland Firefighters Deserve Fun Children's Museum Exhibits Too!

Why do the structure crews get to have all the fun, huh? Go to just about any children's museum and you're likely to find a little fire station or a fire truck, probably with some fun but flimsy costumes, maybe a fake fire hose to haul around or a toy axe. There's probably a mural on the wall of a cartoon burning building, complete with dalmatian. And kids love it! So many kids fall in love with the idea of being a firefighter at those exhibits.

But not once have I seen or heard of a similar exhibit for wildland firefighters. Possibly this is because most people don't realize that wildland firefighters and structure firefighters are not the same thing. Which is all the more reason to have an exhibit about it for kids, honestly! Let's start the learning young about what wildland fire is, how to stay safe from it, and what wildland firefighters do via an interactive, playful exhibit!

Since I work as a wildland fire dispatcher and study disasters, and I've designed museum exhibits before at other jobs, I figured this was an "I'll just do it myself" sort of scenario. And thus, my little wildland exhibit was born!

The idea behind this exhibit is to create a simple, semi self-directed play area for ages ~4-8 themed around a wildland fire scenario of protecting a small cabin from an approaching wildfire. It would have three main play areas: the Velcro Forest, The Cabin, and the Firetruck Climber, and there would be simple signage sharing facts about what wildland firefighters do and how they are different from structure firefighters.

The murals throughout the exhibit would be detailed, showing the diverse terrain wildland crews can work in, and also some of the support they get from aircraft like helicopters and slurry bombers.

Play Area 1: Firetruck Climber

The firetruck climber would be modeled after a Type 4 wildland engine, simplified into a kid friendly structure. It would have working lights that are non-flashing and low light for sensory safety, and the lights could be turned on and off from within the cab. Inside the cab is a dashboard with a toy radio, moving wheel, and two seats. Along the side of the truck is an interactive panel of pump controls, and a series of cubbies to store the play gear in the exhibit just like real wildland firefighters store their gear in their trucks.

The play gear would include costume yellow shirts, green pants, and boots just like what wildland firefighters wear, with an explainer that they wear very different gear than structural firefighters and don't use any portable breathing systems. Other gear would include toy Pulaskis (the wildland specific type of axe), toy hoes and rakes, and toy chainsaws.

Play Area 2: The Velcro Forest

One of the main techniques for fighting a wildfire is removing the fuel it needs to burn, and that's what the velcro forest is all about. It is on the side of the exhibit closest to the fire (but the fire is not moving directly at it! You never work in front of a fire!). The trees are plastic covered foam blocks held together with velcro so they can easily be knocked down and then "cut" apart with the toy chainsaws. There are also moveable foam bushes on the ground.

The ground mural would include a strip of brown where anything on the forest floor had been scraped away to dirt, to represent the technique of cutting line.

Simple signage would explain the concept of removing fuel and cutting line to help stop the movement of dangerous fires.

Play Area 3: The Cabin

The third play area is the cabin you are trying to protect from the oncoming fire. This area would primarily be focused around the concept of defensible space and how a home can be protected by clearing away landscaping and removing burnable items from areas such as porches.

Gift Shop

To carry the learning outside the exhibit itself, I'd love to the gift shop carry things like children's books about wildfire (though there aren't a ton to choose from, sadly), toy wildland firetrucks, wildland fire kids costumes, things in that vein.

--

So yes! Wildland firefighter based children's exhibit! I think it would be great fun, and serve as a good way to introduce children (and their parents) to the knowledge that wildland firefighters are very different than structure firefighters. Will this sort of exhibit ever actually exist? Who knows! But I sure think it should.

Subscribe on Patreon here.

[ruesol]

Part 3 of Mechanic!Sukuna

Notes: fem!reader hinted to have social anxiety, not proofread :/, changed the ending of part two to make more sense for this story

main masterlist

Sometimes, you felt like the universe didn’t want you to drive. Like there was an invisible force that was pushing you to your limits with the mechanical monster.

You hugged yourself tightly as you tried to make sense of what was going on under your car’s hood. Despite it being pleasantly warm earlier, every drop of rain felt like an icicle against your shivering body.

The predicament you were in was caused by your engine—sputtering and hissing, prompting you to pull over and try to figure out what was wrong with it. Thank God for the internet because at least now all those car experts on YouTube could tell you that your engine was officially dead.

Yes, dead. As in, your car was never going to work again.

Now, you had three options: call tow service, call your only friend (who was busy taking care of his sick partner), OR

call the mechanic who was (in your friend’s opinion) flirting with you.

Your finger hovered over Sukuna’s name. Calling tow service felt unfamiliar and you didn’t even know what to say to them. Would they offer you a ride? And if they didn’t, the lowest cab ride from the street you were at to your house was an astonishingly laughable price.

With a bite to your already chewed up lip, you tapped his name. You’ll deal with the embarrassment of it later. At least being with him felt safe and familiar.

Fifteen minutes later, a monster of a jeep pulled up right behind your car and Sukuna hopped out from it, all in leather jacketed glory. Your anxiety riddled mind told you that he was probably lurking around, waiting for your car to give up on you.

“Hey, Sukuna—“

Sukuna simply pulled you into a hug, uncaring that your clothes were basically stuck to his. “Fuck, this area is dangerous to be stuck in. Good that you’re safe.” You shivered as his hands slid down from your shoulders squeezed your waist while pulling away. He then dropped his leather jacket atop your soaked hair. “Don’t catch a cold, pretty.”

The frigidness of the heavy rain was no match for your burning face. You were soggy and shivering and the last thing you felt was pretty.

Your eyes couldn’t help but check him out as he leant over your hood. His muscle tank top looked like a second skin. The drops of rain recoiling and trailing down his tattooed arms as he worked around the engine with concentrated eyes. He had surprisingly good navigation despite the terrible weather.

You felt mortified about the heat pooling between your legs as you watched him swipe his hair back while he sauntered over to you. You had never thought about anyone like that so why was this man in particular so appealing?

Not to mention the pure scent of manliness from his leather jacket. It didn’t smell like the sweat or grease from last time as you expected, but more of pine and sandal. It smelled expensive. You had initially taken him for a body spray kind of person.

Not that you thought about what he smelled like outside of work often.

“You were right—the engine is dead for good.” God, his voice was the equivalent of a good book on a rainy day. This one in particular.

“Oh.” You could not afford a new car in the middle of the semester. Your part time job was barely enough to cover up maintenance costs—even with Sukuna’s many discounts.

He grabbed your shoulders and began walking you to the passenger seat of his jeep. The slight squeeze of his large hands felt great after being stiff in the rain. “But don’t you worry, I know a guy who’ll scrap your car for a good price,” he said as he closed the door, not even giving you a moment to agree to letting him drive you.

He jogged quickly to the driver’s seat and switched on the heater. He threw his phone in your lap. “Play whatever you like.” The entire situation felt like he had been preparing for it for days.

“It’s not about scrapping my car. I really need a way to get to class, and my car was my only option. I don’t think I can afford a new one even after selling this,” you couldn’t even look at him while shabbily admitting how broke you were.

“That’s fine.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll drive you to school. I think it’s my fault that I even let you drive around that thing. Should’ve told you to get rid of it ages ago.”

You remembered how his advice would get more and more concerning (and flirty) with every visit. How he’d rest his hands on your waist as he’d show you what part of your car was actively dying and how hard he had worked to fix it. Too bad you were too distracted by the way his warm breath would hit your face with how close he’d lean in to speak to you or how he’d slide a strand of hair back to its position. Like he knew what your body reacted to the most.

“But still, thank you. No mechanic I’ve ever gone to has been this helpful.” It was shameless receiving all that help from him. You felt like you were taking advantage of his kindness.

He let out a small laugh as he started the car and began driving towards the address you entered on the GPS. “Oh, you thought I was being kind?”

“You weren’t?” You began to play with the hem of your shirt to calm yourself down. Of course, it was too good to be true. He was probably going to ask you to pay him tenfold the money you owed him in the name of “discounts.”

“Nah, they were favors. And you’re gonna return all of them to me.”

“I-I don’t have the money for that kind of stuff. If you’d told me earlier—“

“Not that type of payment, pretty. I’m not that cruel. I just want something more… physical.”

“I don’t own a bar of gold.”

He let out a louder laugh this time as the car stopped at a red light. He then took a moment to look at you and trail his eyes down your figure.

“One kiss for each discount. And a date for scrapping your car.”

—

End of the mechanic!sukuna chronological parts. Rest of the fics will be stories that’ll be about reader and sukuna’s relationship, and can be read in any order.

taglist: @sakurasimppp @thisaintredwine @blueemochii @totallygyomeiswife @asuritam @chosokamoluvr @sterzin @aluvrina @pettybunnyboo @nanamisrighthand @lavenderdaydream97 @shokosbunny @stainednailpolishremover @stopeatread @uma0777 @matchat3a @ieathairs @tamishadawn @persyhange

I’m really sorry if I forgot your name. I really need a system as to how I’m going to update a taglist. If you have any suggestions then please leave them in the comments :)

[jobean12-blog]

Easy Ride

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Biker AU)

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: Bucky has been dying to take you for a ride on his bike but you've been hesitant, having never ridden before, but when you're finally ready it turns out to be the best ride of your life.

Author's Note: I've been wanting to write some Biker!Bucky after seeing him in the new Thunderbolts trailer- so yum- and then the lovely @steviebbboi is hosting a writing challenge celebration and it worked out perfectly for the Biker AU trope! Thanks so much for hosting and congrats love! ❤️🥰Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by @firefly-graphics thank you so much sweet Daisy! 💕

PS Bucky is still a super soldier here and has his metal arm 😏

Warnings: Bucky on a motorcycle, he's soft and sweet but filthy too, he gives you everything you need, semi-public sex, oral sex (m rec), some curses, p in v

He’s wearing a triumphant grin as he sits on his bike, holding it up and letting it purr between his thighs.

“Ready for a ride doll face?”

You stand by the door of your apartment building, Bucky’s riding jacket draped over your shoulders, cocooning you in soft leather and his distinct scent.

It’s hard to resist him in any circumstance but especially this one…long, strong legs straddling the sleek bike, his soft tee shirt showing off the corded muscles of his right arm, painted with ink, and the shiny metal of his left arm gleams in the sun.

And then your eyes meet his and any reservations you have left start to dissipate in the reverent way he gazes at you.  

“You promise you won’t go too fast, right?”

“Only as fast as you want me to go,” he answers softly.

He pulls the helmet he bought just for you from the saddlebag. “I love this bike, and I love ridin’ it. But neither nearly as much as you. You’re safe with me doll.”

You bite your bottom lip when it starts to spread into a smile and take the final steps to meet him by the curb.

He helps you with the helmet, carefully placing it over your head and securing the strap under your chin.

You let out a sigh shaky with trepidation and he grabs your hand to tug you close.

“You’re mine baby doll,” he growls over the hum of the engine. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“I know Bucky,” you whisper. “I trust you. It’s other people I worry about. Crazy drivers…the cabs.”

He nods in understanding and helps you onto the back of the bike, tugging your knees into position so you’re pulled tight against him.

You shift and gasp as the vibrations of the bike move through your body.

He grins and revs the engine.

“Hold on to me. Wrap your arms around me and if I lean a certain way, lean with me.”

“Ok,” you answer, circling your arms around his waist.

“I’m going to go slow around the neighborhood and if you like it we can go out of the city to more open roads.”

Your hands dig into his shirt and your thighs tighten around his hips when the engine roars to life. As promised, he takes it slow down the car lined streets, each turn getting you more comfortable.

When you reach your favorite book shop he rolls to s stop and cuts the engine.

“Why did you stop Buck?” you ask.

He holds back a laugh as he turns to you, tugging your helmet off to see your face better.

“I wanted to check on you,” he says softly. “We can keep riding if you like, or we can go buy some books?”

Your arms tighten around him in a hug. “As much as I want to buy more books I’d like to continue our ride.”

“Anything you want doll face.”

You can tell he’s happy with your answer and he kisses you hard and fast before securing your helmet once again.

This time he meanders through the city streets and gets on the highway, going North. The Hudson River sparkles under the setting sun and the longer you ride the more you relax and enjoy the view.

Once you reach a secluded spot at the edge of the Cloisters he slows and stops his bike, letting it idle as you look around.

“This place is beautiful,” you say in awe.

He helps you off and into his arms, your body sliding down every inch of his until your feet hit the ground.

“Just wait ‘til you see the rest of it,” he grins.

Your hands frame his face, and you cover it with kisses, pressing your lips to his forehead and then his cheeks, until he moves to capture your mouth.

“I can’t wait,” you whisper against his lips. “I love riding with you.”

He stares down at you, his eyes moving over every inch of your face as he leans in again, brushing his lips softly along your jaw until they meet your ear.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Bucky tells you about the history of the old New York landmark as you explore it’s breathtaking architecture and lush gardens but with each step you take you can feel the tension building between you, the rush of the ride settling in your bones and growing with heat.

Hidden under one of the stone arches, he takes your face in his hands, roughened palms warm against your cheeks, and kisses you. His lips are a tease, teeth gently scraping across as he tilts your head back, pulling away just long enough to brush his nose along yours.

You slip your hands under his tee shirt, tracing the memorized lines of ink that shift with his flexing muscles. His fingers tremble with restraint and his soft noises come out tight and barely controlled.

With silent encouragement he leads you back to his bike and as you approach you tug him to a halt, giving the area a cautious glance. Dark has settled and while there are dim lights scattered around the grounds, his parking spot is hidden and it’s quiet, no sign of any other people close by.

You meet his gaze and thread your fingers through his hair.

“How quiet can you be?” you whisper.

“Doll,” he growls, tightening his grip on your waist.

You drop to your knees and work open his jeans, peeling them down his thick thighs to free his cock, already hard and aching.

You lick him, and then again, over, and up and down his length until he’s slick and wet and slides easily into your mouth.

His metal hand slips behind your head, guiding you carefully at first then then holding so he can push deeper with a groan.

He works to remain silent, occasionally letting out a hissing breath and pushing deeper as his fingertips dig into your scalp.

You curl your tongue and suck, loving the feel of his smooth and warm skin stretched tight in your mouth.

“Fuck doll,” he grits out, the sensations too much for him to take.

His hips jerk forward, shoving more of his cock down your throat as his release warms your tongue.

You clean up every last drop and neatly tuck him back into his jeans, standing and grazing your fingertips along his beard.

“You have until we get home to get hard again,” you tell him, pulling your helmet off the handlebars and waiting expectantly for him to help you back onto the bike.

“You better watch that mouth or I’ll bend you over my bike and fuck you until everyone hears.”

“Don’t tempt me with things I want.”

He leans over you, tucking two calloused fingers under your chin so your eyes are locked on his. “When I get you home, I’m taking what I want.”

You stifle your wanton moan and watch him throw one long leg over his bike, his jeans pulling tight against his straining thigh muscles. He starts the engine and revs it, waiting until you’re safely secured behind him to take off down the road.

He slams the door open, the knob hitting the plaster of the wall on the other side. He turns and drags you into his chest with his metal arm, the other, grabs the door frame and pushes it shut.

“Did the ride get you hot doll?” he asks. “You like feelin’ my bike vibrate between your legs?”

“Yes Bucky,” you answer.

Your fingers move up his chest and into his hair, windblown and mussed. His hips rock against you and you feel the hard length of his cock along your stomach.

His growl of satisfaction runs through you and with his eyes anchoring yours, he slides a rough hand down your stomach to the button of your jeans.

“Show me,” he murmurs.

You drop your hand and grab his wrist and when he unzips your jeans you shove his fingers into your panties.

Two long fingers search, dipping inside and finding you soaked.

“Fuck! You’re so wet.”

You close your eyes, pushing into his hand to fuck his fingers.

“Is this what you want?” he murmurs, running his nose down your neck.

Before you find a rhythm he pulls his fingers from you and reaches to push them into your mouth, pressing your taste on your tongue. His grip is gentle but firm on your jaw, fingers curled into your cheeks to hold your mouth open.

“Answer me doll.”

“Yes.”

The simple word is jumbled around his fingers, and he pulls back, delicately tracing your bottom lip with his thumb.

His eyes drop to your mouth and his hands spread softly at the curve of your waist.

“You’re all mine,” he whispers with a brush of his lips before they crash over yours.

You greedily reach for his shirt, tugging it up and over his head. Once the smooth muscles of his chest are exposed, you let out a moan and your hands slide along his skin, tracing every dip and curve before following the dark line of hair that leads down below his belly button.

Impatiently he grips you harder, pushing his hips forward and grunting his approval when you start to undo his pants. You reach for him, warm and silky in your palm.

He exhales a tight groan when you grip his cock and slide your hand down his length. He wraps his fingers around the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss, fucking your hand.

With a growled curse he pushes you back toward the kitchen table, taking both your wrists in his hand and resting them above your head as he spreads you out on the hard wood.

He kicks off his jeans and stands between your spread legs, yanking your pants down as he leans forward to kiss your jaw, running his lips up to your ear to whisper, “I can’t get enough of you.”

When he leans back his eyes rake over you, and you squirm underneath him. With slow hands he drags your panties down your legs and carefully rids you of your shirt.

His palms flatten on the inside of your thighs, and he spreads you open, his eyes locked on yours when he roughly thrusts into you. You’re so full of him you want to scream but he doesn’t stay deep inside you for long. He pulls back and then slams forward, gripping your waist and making the whole table slide along the floor.

Large, rough hands reach for your breasts, and he slides his thumb across your nipple.

“Please make me come Bucky,” you whisper. “I’m so close.”

He’s moving so hard the table is shaking.

“You’re going to watch me come instead,” he murmurs, jerking from you and gripping his cock.

His hand moves up and down his cock and he curses, his eyes never leaving yours. The first burst of his release coats your neck, and then your breasts, your stomach. There’s no sexier sound than the deep groan he makes when he comes, the way he growls out your name.

He bends, sweaty and out of breath and his eyes move over your face and down, inspecting how he’s decorated you.

“Fucking gorgeous doll,” he whispers.

“Bucky,” you purr, reaching for him.

“One second,” he says softly.

He comes back with a warm cloth and wipes you clean before kissing you gently.

“I’m going to take care of you now,” he promises with his mouth hovering just above yours.

You brush your fingers across the hair that lines his cheek, cradling it and bringing his lips to yours.

He lifts you into his arms and carries you to his bed, laying you gently on the comforter. You sink your hands into his hair as he kisses down your neck, sucking on your breasts, your stomach and parting your legs.

“I love to taste you,” he whispers with a kiss to your clit.

You arch off the bed when he licks and sucks you in every way you love. He slides two fingers inside you, meeting the thrust of your hips with his hand and face. He brings you right to the edge and then pulls away, climbing over you.

“Bucky…”

“I need to be inside you when you come,” he says.

With quick hands, he rolls you onto your stomach, spreads your legs, and slides in so deep you gasp, bunching the pillowcase with your fists. He starts to move, his chest pressed to your back, breath hot in your ear.

“I’m so lost in you.”

Then his hand slides underneath you and presses, circling your clit until you’re tightening around him and the rush of your release wracks your body, taking him with you.

He rolls onto his side and cradles you to his chest, his fingertips feather light as they trace your skin.

“I’m really happy you liked riding with me,” he whispers.

“I loved it. I want to do it again…”

He grins and in between soft kisses asks, “what did you love about it?”

“Other than the vibrations of the bike and being pressed so close to you?”

He exhales slowly, clearly trying to stay focused on the conversation even as you feel his heart pounding under your palm.

“I felt safe…and it made me feel free. The wind whipping around us and the world passing by in a blur. We could go anywhere.”

“I’ll take you everywhere,” he says, nuzzling your neck. “But I still wanna bend you over my bike.”

You press your body along his side, sliding your leg up over his. The muscles of his quads are defined and firm beneath his smooth, warm skin and when you reach his hip you roll against him, and he groans.

“I always want you,” he whispers into your skin.

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl Dixon x Reader

tp!daryl x young reader, young Daryl Dixon, pre apocalypse, fluff

warnings: none except Daryl is kind of an ass at first

The night air hung thick and humid, clinging to the inside of Daryl’s truck. Crickets chirped faintly in the distance, their rhythm competing with the faint rattle of the truck’s idling engine. He leaned his chin on his hand, fingers scratching idly at his scruff as he stared at the empty stretch of road ahead.

“Goodnight,” the girl said, her voice pitched just a little too sweet, teetering on the edge of something expectant. Hopeful.

Her name was… Tessa? No, Tanya. Maybe. Wait, Tina? Hell, he couldn’t remember anymore. Not that it mattered.

“Night,” he muttered, the word coming out low, almost like an afterthought.

Still waiting. Still expectant.

Daryl’s jaw tightened, but his gaze didn’t waver from the road. He let the silence stretch between them, filling the cab like the humid summer air, heavy and suffocating. Daryl exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Why wasn’t she leaving?

She adjusted her purse on her lap, the clink of the metal clasp annoyingly loud in the quiet cab. He didn’t look at her, didn’t give her the satisfaction of meeting her eyes. Maybe if he stayed still long enough, she’d take the hint.

“You sure you don’t wanna come in?” she asked, her voice soft, but with an edge of insistence that grated against his nerves.

His eyes flicked to her, just briefly, before settling back on the road. “Nah,” he said, voice flat, as though the single syllable could put an end to the conversation.

She stayed there, unmoving, her nails tapping against her purse now, a nervous little rhythm that set his teeth on edge.

“Alright,” she said finally, though her tone carried more disappointment than acceptance. She shifted, one hand reaching for the door handle, but she didn’t open it. Instead, she paused, turning back to him. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”

Daryl huffed, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ain’t got much to say.”

That clearly wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Her face fell, the sweetness in her expression fading into something colder.

“Well, thanks for the ride, I guess,” she said, her words clipped now. She shoved the door open, stepping out onto the gravel driveway with a sharp click of her heels.

“Yeah,” he grunted, already reaching to shift the truck into gear. He didn't let her get another word in, already backing out of her driveway onto the road, eager to get away.

The road stretched ahead of him, endless and empty, the faint glow of the late night store's neon signs flashing by him through town. He turned the radio on, letting the static fill the cab before switching it off again. He was on edge.

It was late—closer to midnight than not—and he wasn’t sure where he was headed. He just knew he couldn’t go back to the trailer yet, not with Merle’s drunken yelling waiting for him. He needed space, air, something to quiet the restless energy clawing at his chest.

Before he realized it, his truck was pulling onto your street.

---

The sound of tires crunching over gravel pulled your attention from the book in your lap. You glanced up from the porch steps, squinting as headlights washed over you, the faint rumble of an old truck engine breaking the quiet of the night.

You didn’t have to see who it was to know.

The truck rolled to a stop, the engine idling as the driver’s side door creaked open. Daryl climbed out, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely over his chest as he looked at you.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough.

You shrugged, closing the book and setting it aside. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Figured you might wanna get outta here for a bit.”

You raised a brow, tilting your head at him. “What, and ride around in that death trap of yours?”

He snorted, shaking his head as he turned back toward the truck. “C’mon. Ain’t gonna ask twice.”

You didn’t hesitate, grabbing your jacket from the porch and jogging down the steps. The cab smelled faintly of gasoline and old leather as you slid into the passenger seat, the bench warm from where someone might've been sitting earlier.

“Where we goin’?” you asked, buckling your seatbelt as he shifted into gear.

“Dunno. wanna stop at Sevs?” he muttered, his eyes on the road as the truck rattled to life.

--

The neon lights of the 7-Eleven cast a hazy glow over the parking lot, the hum of the buzzing sign filling the quiet as the two of you pushed open the glass door.

You bee-lined for the slurpees, the bright red syrup swirling into a cup as you filled it to the brim. Daryl followed behind, snagging a pack of jerky and a bag of chips before nodding toward the counter.

“Let’s go,” he said, jerking his chin toward the door.

The truck cab was quiet as you climbed back inside, the faint crinkle of the jerky bag filling the space as Daryl tore it open. You leaned back against the seat, sipping your slurpee as the engine purred beneath you.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was an edge to it—like something unsaid was lingering in the air. You drove for awhile like that, listening to music, aimlessly turning down different roads in the quiet night. The truck rolled to a stop at a red light, its glow casting the cab in deep crimson. The roads were empty, no one else around this late. The hum of the engine filled the silence, and you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

“How was your date?” you asked finally, your voice casual as you stared out the windshield. The question had been boggling your mind since you got in the truck with him earlier.

Daryl froze for half a second, his fingers tightening around the jerky bag before he scoffed. “Pfft...Borin’.”

A flicker of something you couldn’t name stirred in your chest, but you kept your expression neutral, snuffing the feeling out and taking another sip of your slurpee.

“Did you talk to her, or did you just grunt the whole time?” you teased, turning to glance at him.

His eyes rolled, the movement slow and deliberate, the red light casting his dark blue irises in shadow. “’Course I talked to ‘er.”

“Hi and bye don’t count,” you said, a small laugh escaping despite yourself.

His lips twitched again, the faintest hint of a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “I talked to ‘er, alright?” he repeated, the words low, rough, almost playful.

You leaned back against the seat, the slurpee cup cool against your hands as you studied him. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the traffic light ahead like it held some kind of answer.

“Guess she wasn’t your type,” you said softly, the words barely above a murmur.

Daryl’s hand stilled, his fingers curling against the wheel as he finally turned to look at you. His expression was unreadable at first, but there was something simmering beneath the surface—something that made your heart stutter.

“Nah,” he said, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges. “She wasn’t.”

The air between you shifted, thickened, and you suddenly became hyper-aware of how close you were in the cramped cab. The light remained red, casting its glow over his face, highlighting the faint scruff along his jaw and the way his lips pressed together like he was holding something back.

Your pulse quickened as his eyes lingered on yours, the weight of his gaze making it hard to breathe. “What?” you asked, your voice softer, unsure.

---

The moment your eyes flicked toward him, framed by the crimson glow of the light, Daryl felt like his chest might cave in. He’d been fighting it for too long—the way you got under his skin, the way every word you said felt like it meant something, even when it shouldn’t.

But now, sitting in the truck, roads empty around him, it was like the world had narrowed to just you. The way you were looking at him, quiet, expectant—he couldn’t take it. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t desperate, but it hit him all at once. If he didn’t do something now, he might never get the chance.

His throat felt tight, his hands itching where they gripped the wheel. He wasn’t sure what was going through his head—if it was bold or just plain stupid—but it didn’t matter. Not now. Not when you were this close.

His hand moved first, almost of its own accord, coming up to cup your cheek. Rough and calloused, his thumb brushed over your skin, and the softness of it nearly undid him. You didn’t pull away. You didn’t flinch. You just… stayed. Watching him. Waiting for him.

Now or never.

His lips met yours, soft at first, just barely there, like he was trying to figure out if he was even allowed to do this. Every nerve in his body screamed to hold back, to keep it slow, but it was impossible—not when you leaned into him, not when your lips parted against his like you’d been waiting just as long as he had.

This was what he wanted.

The thought hit him hard, rattling around his head like a loose screw. It wasn’t just the kiss—not the heat of your lips against his or the way your hand found his shoulder, fingers curling into his shirt like you couldn’t let go. It was all of it. You. The way you fit here beside him, the way you always knew what to say, even when it pissed him off. The way you made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t some broken-down mess of a kid.

His grip tightened as the kiss deepened, his other hand finding your jaw, holding you like he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. He’d waited too long for this, longer than he wanted to admit, and now that it was happening, he didn’t know how to stop.

He pulled back for a breath, his eyes scanning you. He couldn’t look away, not now, not ever. His heart slammed against his ribs, and his voice came out low, rough, as he whispered, “Ain’t no one like ya.”

The words weren’t planned, but they felt right, felt true in a way that made his chest ache. His thumb traced the corner of your lips, lingering, memorizing. He was certain now.

Before he could say anything else, you surged forward, your hands threading into his hair and pulling him closer. The heat of you pressed against him, the way your lips moved against his—like you’d been holding back too, like this was something you needed as much as he did.

He groaned softly, the sound low and guttural, and it only made you pull him closer. His hands moved to your waist, gripping firmly, grounding himself in the feel of you. It was frantic now, messy, but he couldn’t care less. You were here, in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

The kiss deepened again, hungrier now, more desperate. His hand slipped under the edge of your jacket, his fingers pressing into the small of your back like he was trying to pull you even closer. He couldn’t get enough—didn’t know if he ever would.

And then the horn blared.

The sharp, jarring sound ripped him out of the moment, and he jerked back, panting, his mind struggling to catch up. The light had turned green, and the car behind him was blaring their horn like their life depended on it.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff as he turned back to the wheel. He slammed his hand against it, leaning out the window to yell, “I’m goin’, alright?!” His middle finger shot up for good measure, and he hit the gas, the truck lurching forward.

His chest still heaved as he gripped the wheel tightly, the tension in the cab almost unbearable. You laughed softly, the sound breathless and light, and it made his ears burn. He glanced at you, his lips quirking just slightly, though his grip on the wheel remained firm.

The road stretched out ahead, but something between you had changed. He could feel it in the air, in the way his heart refused to settle, in the way he could still taste you on his lips.

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors with Benefits: Chapter 15 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2300

“Where are we sleeping tonight?” You asked Joel, though immediately you regretted asking. It wasn't his responsibility to figure things out for the two of you.

“Next door to each other?” He toyed with your hair as you hovered a few inches above him in the back of the truck, but you shook your head.

“No.”

Joel laughed. “Well, what do you suggest?”

“I don't know,” you admitted. “But I can't be apart from you right now.”

“Oh you can't huh?” He grinned up at you.

“No.” You smiled back and leaned down and touched your lips to his.

“My brother has a two family house. He knows my situation is fucked up. Maybe we could spend the night there.”

“Does he know about us?”

Joel shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Would it be okay with him if I was with you?”

“I don't see why not.” Joel continued to run his fingers through your hair and you closed your eyes. “Worst case scenario..” He pulled you toward him to kiss along your collarbone, “We can go camping.”

You giggled against him and bit down on your bottom lip when he kissed down your breasts and latched on to your nipple.

“I'll go anywhere with you,” you whispered, cupping the back of his head and gently grabbing a fistful of hair.

You were completely immersed in one another again. After all was said and done you almost suggested just sleeping in the truck; though Joel finally talked you into putting your clothes on and getting back in the truck.

“I'm going to call Tommy,” he explained, finally starting up the engine. “My brother.”

You nodded and began typing your message to your mom that you were out for the night. It pained you to hit send because you knew for the first time in your life, you and her were not on the same page. That was the one part of the whole ordeal that didn't feel right. Still, you knew your decisions were yours, alone. Leaving Joel wasn't an option.

“Hey,” Joel had the phone to his ear and you could hear the faint voice of Tommy on the other end. “You still have that space available on the upper floor?” He paused and nodded. “Alright.” Another paused, “Great, thank you.” Joel huffed a laugh, “I'll pick you up a thirty pack of Bud Lite.” Pause, “I'll leave it on the front step for when you get back. Thanks man. I owe ya.”

You smiled to yourself, noting it must have worked out. When Joel turned, you smiled. “We all booked?”

“We’re booked,” he confirmed, “As long as you don't mind a swing by the package store.”

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

Joel grabbed your hand and kissed along your knuckles. “Good.”

Things felt right at home when you were beside Joel. Nothing mattered. You were light as air. When the two of you strolled into the liquor store to get Tommy his beer, Joel picked up a bottle of champagne and winked as the two of you checked out.

“Champagne huh?” You asked as you were securely back in the cab of his truck.

Joel nodded and linked his hand with yours. “I figured I'd get us a little something.”

Your heart was full. In fact it felt like it grew three sizes. You were so completely in love that you knew if this ever were to end it would be difficult to bounce back from. Still, you pushed the negative thoughts away. Things were good. You and Joel were on the same page in the same book.

When his truck cruised into Tommy’s driveway, Joel parked in the back behind the house near a detached garage. The house was in a suburban neighborhood, though trees surrounded the property, making it at least semi-private. In the back of the house was an outdoor staircase that led up to the second floor. That was where Joel led the two of you after leaving Tommy’s beer on the front porch.

“I have a key,” he explained, and you noted that he and his brother must have been close. Joel propped open the back door that gave way to an upper deck and the two of you made your way inside.

You glanced around the interior. The first step inside was a quaint, little kitchen that gave way to the living room. Down the short hallway, you soon discovered, were two bedrooms and a bathroom. Almost right away, Joel spoke the words you were thinking.

“I wonder if he'd let us stay here until we figured shit out.”

Yes. Yes. Yes! From the second you walked in the door you wanted that.

“Us?” You asked.

“Yeah.” Joel turned and read your face, “Us.”

You smiled wide. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“This is crazy, isn't it?”

You shook your head and leaned in, pleased when Joel met you with a needy kiss. “This doesn't feel crazy.”

“What's it feel like then?”

“Just right.” The words naturally rolled off your tongue and the two of you began to make out in the hallway. “Maybe a little crazy.”

Joel snickered against your lips. “Come on. Let's get settled in.”

You did just that, selecting the bigger of the two bedrooms to reside in before dropping off your bag of clothes. Joel found a mason jar in a cabinet, rinsed it out and put your toothbrushes in it before finally you both settled down on the couch and put a movie on.

Joel retrieved a pair of glasses and the bottle of champagne, making you wince with a giggle just before the cork popped.

“I'm not going to lie,” you admitted, “I had a feeling that was going to spray everywhere.”

Joel laughed lightly and shook his head. “I'm an expert.” He poured you each a glass and set the bottle down on the table in front of the couch.

As you held your glass out you asked, “What should we toast to?”

“To new beginnings,” he suggested.

“The beginning of..” your voice began to trail off. You stopped yourself from finishing the sentence.

“The beginning of..?” Joel held your stare and you couldn't look away from his eyes.

“Nothing,” you laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear.”

“No, say it.”

You shook your head.

“Come on.” His smile convinced you. In that moment you knew he could probably convince you to do anything.

“Ughh..” you cringed but finally manned up the courage, “To the beginning of forever.. possibly.” There we're your insecurities taking the reigns.

“Possibly?” Joel continued to own your gaze. Raised his eyebrows. “Drop that word, baby.”

You spoke with more confidence. “To the beginning of forever.”

Joel still didn't look away and tapped his glass to yours. “Cheers to that.”

Fuck. There went the next size up of your heart. You were all in - not that you weren't before. But this man, you knew for certain, had your beating heart in the palms of his hands. Maybe you held the same power. Still, it was scary, exciting and made you feel more alive than ever all at once.

You each took a sip. Your eyes stayed locked on Joel’s. His eyes remained on yours. You drank about half the small glass and then placed it down next to the bottle. When Joel was done taking his sip, you removed the glass from his hand and set it down before straddling him on the couch.

His hands dropped to your hips and your lips eagerly found his again as you snaked your arms around the back of his neck.

“I'm not kidding,” you whispered against him.

“I'm not either.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

The eye contact was pulling you in as much as his kisses and touches. Joel was intense and he pulled you in so easily.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, and then added. “Please.”

Joel's plea made your body feel hot. You kissed him sensually at first. And then it became more desperate. You kissed one another every time like it would be the last time. It was hot and addicting.

Your clothes were on the floor within minutes and you took control of the moment, reaching for Joel’s hard cock as he dropped his pants to his ankles. His arms outstretched the length of the couch when you positioned him at your entrance and then lowered yourself down onto him.

Joel's head dropped back onto the top of the couch when he felt you tighten around him, but you pressed your lips to his forcing his head back up.

“Kiss me,” you echoed his words from a few minutes before. “Please.” When you rolled your hips he groaned into your mouth.

Joel's arms wrapped around you and he aided in helping you move on top of him. He growled your name in a whisper, letting his teeth graze your lower lip. It made you moan.

“Let it out,” Joel begged.

“What if he hears us-”

“Tommy’s not home.” Joel thrusted up into you and you cried out and whimpered, holding him harder. “I never want you to hold back with me.” His fingertips dug into your back and nibbled down your neck until his tongue swirled around left nipple.

“Joel..” you whined his name. When he trusted up into you harder again you whined again. And then moaned louder when he impaled you again and again.

Your legs trembled and thighs tightened around the outsides of his. You felt tears in the corners of your eyes and as you continued to ride him they fell. You whimpered again and Joel’s thumb grazed your cheek, wiping away the stray tears.

“(Y/N)..” His voice was concerned now but you kept moving on top of him.

“Don't stop,” you begged. Emotion flooded every part of you. So did a wave of pleasure. The build up was making your head spin. “I'm about to c-” The burst of pleasure halted your sentence and you cursed as your body stiffened. “Fuck.. Joel.” You grabbed him as hd steadied your hips with his hands, rocking your hips through your orgasm as you did as he asked you do. You let it out. You let it all out.

You moaned, you whimpered, you choked out his name as stars erupted behind your tightly pressed eyes you felt the flow of more tears stream down your face.

“Fuck..” you cried out, feeling a thudding pulse between your legs. At the same time a warmth filled you and knew Joel came just a few seconds after. He groaned into your neck and held your hips harder, leaving panting breaths against your neck.

You felt like you were on another planet for a moment, until Joel finally snapped you out of the daze.

“Are you alright?” He asked. “Hey.. (Y/N)..”

Your eyes opened and your felt a dampness on your eyelashes. Joel looked back at you from an inch away and you laughed as you continued to sob quietly.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

You were crying. Out of the blue. In the middle of your orgasm.

“Hey..” Joel repeated, touching your cheek with one hand.

You sniffed in and took in a few deep breaths in a row. Tears fell from your eyes when they closed and you reopened them.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded. “I don't know why..” you shook your head. “I'm just..” you had nothing. You didn't know what you were saying or why this sudden eruption of emotion was coming out this way. “I love you.” You laughed again and felt completely crazy as you fell apart in his lap.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said right away with a smile. “No. I don't.. I don't know why I'm crying.” You laughed and cried. Laughed and cried.

Joel’s arms secured around your body again and he held you against him, kissing your forehead, your cheek and then the area beneath your eyes.

You let out a deep breath and dried your eyes. “I'm sorry. I just.. I'm not used to feeling like this. I'm.. I don't know.”

When Joel brushed your hair away from your face and your eyes met again you swallowed hard.

“I promise I won't hurt you,” he said.

You gave a half-smirk. “I know.”

“I love you. And I'm sorry if this is putting a strain on your relationship with your mom.”

You swallowed hard. “I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you, too.”

“I mean it,” you went on. “When I'm not with you I'm looking at my phone wondering when you'll call or text me me next. I think about you. I always think about you.”

“Then let's move in here,” Joel said. “Together. You and me.”

This was all so new and felt impulsive. But it also felt right. Joel wasn't even officially divorced yet. Your relationship was new. It didn't matter. You only had one word to say back.

“Yes.”

Joel could read you were certain in your response. He dried your eyes again and kissed you once chastely on the lips. “I'm feeling what you're feeling.”

“I know.”

“I'm going to be with you so much you're going to get sick of me.” He tipped up the corner of his lips in a half-grin and you smiled back. When another tear fell he wiped it away.

“I'd like to test that,” you told him. “And prove you wrong.”

“So, pending Tommy's approval,” Joel went on, “You're going to move in with me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

Joel smiled. “Let it out.”

You laughed and said it louder. “Yes!”

“Yes?”

You shouted now. “Yes!”

@mellymbee @pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @vickie5446 @writlingerz @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

[venus-vault]

Friend of the Family

Mr.Reed × Fem!Reader(Mid-20s) [18+]

Synopsis: Part 1 - (y/n)'s boring family Christmas vacation to Colorado doesn't exactly go as anticipated...

⚠️TW: Boring Family Dynamic, Age Gap, Alcohol Consumption (all parties of age), Oral Sex (Male & Female Recipients), Raw P in V Penetration, Breif Mutual Masturbation, General Smut. ❄️

"So do I even *actually* know this guy?" I interrogate, unsure why we're staying there instead of some mountainside Airbnb. "Of course! (y/n), you've met Mr. Reed plenty of times, you were just, y'know...smaller." Dad explains, cheery. "Okay... but when you said 'Colorado Christmas Vacation' I thought we'd be like... snowboarding, or hanging out in a cute mountain town, or at least renting a cool cabin in Telluride... not like... the middle of nowhere part of Boulder with some guy I haven't seen since I was a kid..."

He sighs, defeated by my expectations yet again. "Listen. He's my best friend, a few years back he lost his wife, and its true, I haven't gotten around to seeing him in person since you were four, Bug."

He drones on,

"He's a really nice guy, and super cool. He loves that Lana Del Rey girl you're always talking about, and he's got a really nice collection of records and books, its like a mini Barnes & Noble in there! You might find you have more in common than you think!" He offers.

And I decline : "With a 64-year-old retired engineer from England? Yeah thanks, I'll pass. I'm just gonna stay out of the way, keep my headphones on, and let you two reconnect."

I pull out my phone, pop in my earpods, and open Tumblr, pretending to care at all about the latest posts on the Spencer Reid tag. Out of the corner of my eye I can tell I've hurt his feelings, but fathers never say the right thing, and he can withstand a little sting every once in a while. It's what he deserves for not telling me where we were staying til halfway through the plane ride.

Our plane finally touches down, we funnel through Boulder Municipal into a cab and I won't be the first one to speak. I take one earpod out just in case, which Dad takes as an invitation. "Just got a text from Mr. Reed, and I hope you're hungry Bug, because there. will. be. pie." He beams as though this is some great revelation, elaborating "He's got this wild recipe with earl grey in the crust and lemon zest in the filling, it's award-winning. Seriously! He enters it in the local contest every other year and it's only lost once!"

Despite how riveting my father finds Mr. Reed and his Great British baking exploits, I do not, and apparently it shows as his smile tamps down to a simper. "Sweetie, I'm really trying here. I can't convince you it's gonna be the best Christmas ever, hey, we'll probably both have altitude sickness the entire time, but let's just make an attempt, okay? Nothing has to be perfect." He's an idiot but he's right and I agree. "Okay, yeah. I'll be nice." I sigh "That pie does sound pretty good, I guess..."

The cab rolls through the city of Boulder as Lana lilts gently in my earpods about 'haaa-aa-ow toooo disappear~' and maybe this trip won't be so bad after all.

We're finally dropped at the gate to Mr. Reed's house and -you're fucking kidding me- his driveway, long and winding, is gravel. I wince inwardly at the realization that I'll have to lug two wheeled suitcases up that path and flash Dad a fake 'I'm so glad We're doing this' smile before yanking them out of the trunk and making my way up to the stoop. This pie better be incredible.

Once Dad and I are situated on the stoop, out of breath and travel-weary, I assault Mr. Reed's doorbell. It's cold and I need a shower.

ding. .... nothing. ding-ding. nope. dingdingdingdingdingdingdingding-

The door opens, finally, and a sweet-looking older man in a well composed cardigan-button down combo and jeans steps out to greet us, smiling bright as his eyes fall on Dad.

"Jonathan!!"

"Reed!!"

Laughter ensues as I observe their embrace, holding back a heavy eyeroll. Somehow I am already third-wheeling.

"Oh my god, Mr. Reed, you remember (y/n)? She's just finished a semester at Oxford!" Dad smirks, gesturing to me and I give a shy wave as Mr. Reed's eyes scan over me, widening in surprise.

"(y/n)? As in, little (y/n), (y/n) who was- ?" He holds his hand flat, bringing it down by his knee as he looks between me and dad in disbelief.

"The very same, can you believe it?"

I purse my mouth into a smile, just completely overwhelmed by how awkward this interaction is.

"Well look at you! You've certainly grown up, haven't you?"

"I suppose so!" my best fake laugh.

Mr. Reed's eyes trace my form again and he pulls me into a quick side hug. He's warm and smells like lemon zest, vanilla extract.

"Let's get you two in then, supposed to be a blizzard tonight."

He grabs one of my suitcases and we follow him as he shuffles back inside.

His house is simple and a little cramped, but I do smell pie. 'Bless This Mess' reads a framed piece of embroidery on the wall, and if there is a God, I hope he does.

We toss our bags into our respective guest rooms at the top of the stairs and I finally get to take my shower before making a way back downstairs to the dining room.

We sit through a meal -shepherd's pie, what is it with this guy and pie?- and my dad and Mr. Reed discuss people they both know who died or lived or have moved or haven't moved and I am in hell until-

"Little after dinner drink then?"

My eyes snap up from my plate to meet his, a small smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. His eyes crinkle at the ends when he smiles, warm and comforting and it occurs to me for the first time that Mr. Reed is...handsome... If he were 20 years younger he'd definitely be my type, in fact...

"Alright! So that's one, me makes two, Jonathan, little shiraz with your pie?"

"Well how could I say no to such a generous offer?" Dad beams.

We move back into the living room and sip and I pick at the pie. It is good and after a glass and a half of shiraz Mr. Reed looks just as appetizing, but I decide I'm not going to eye-fuck this old man in front of my father, or at least not in an obvious way.

So I sit, tepid, on my phone and pretend not to be bothered by the lack of service while I half listen to their conversation, looking up strategically to ogle Mr. Reed every now and then. His eyes find mine and I watch him nibble at his lip and does he know?

"So then (y/n), Oxford, hm?"

"Uhm, yeah, I'm in their creative writing MFA program right now... its... interesting."

"Interesting boring or interesting incredible?" He crosses one leg over the other and leans in, attentive.

"Uh, I mean it's going well, people in my classes are a little...er.. pretentious..?" I giggle, nervous.

"Exactly as I remember it, then!" He laughs loudly, and dad joins in, snickering along. His laughter is infectious and this wine is making me blush and I smile.

"You're an alum?"

"What, the accent didn't give it away?" A chuckle, "Yeah, yeah, I was lucky enough to take about an eon of courses in engineering sciences there, immigrate in the 90s, build this place, blah blah blah, but enough on me, it seems we may just be in the midst of the next great American novelist, eh Jonathan?" A wink.

"I don't know about that," I tear my eyes away from him, focusing in on the details of a floorboard.

"Oh (y/n) don't be modest, Reed you'd love her stuff, she's got some of the most well-metered prose, and-"

"Dad." I warn, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"Oop, sorry bug," He cringes "Didn't mean to dad-out on ya."

"I'd love to read some of your writing sometime, granted you'd be comfortable enough to share." Mr. Reed interjects.

"Uh, yeah. Maybe. Sometime..."

"Can I top you up?"

"Sure." He fills my glass just to the midpoint and does the same for himself.

"Jonathan?" He smirks playfully at dad.

"Ah, I dunno, I should probably be getting some shut-eye actually."

"Aw come on,"

"No, no, these days if im up past 10 with a drink in hand I'll be totally useless the next 24 hours." He stands, patting my shoulder. "Night, y'all. Don't have too much fun without me!" And there go the finger guns so now it's my turn to cringe.

He finally leaves the room and I'm alone with Mr. Reed. There's a heavy silence in the air and I take a small sip of my drink.

"So, (y/n), big on Lana Del Rey I hear?" He smirks.

"One of my favorites." I breathe, forcing a smile.

"Norman Fucking Rockwell or Blue Banisters?"

"NFR."

His eyebrows raise "it's okay to be wrong."

"But I'm not."

"Lust for Life or Born To Die; Paradise Edition?"

"... you ask hard questions, Mr. Reed."

"And you... answer them."

"And if I give you another 'wrong' answer?"

"Why would it matter? Are you trying to impress me?"

"...Paradise." I squint at him.

"Mm, see? We agree on something."

I'm powerless to the smile that forms on my face.

"Yeah?"

He lets out a low laugh. "Yeah,"

"What drew you to her, originally I mean?" He looks me over.

"Well, like a lot of young women I do have the obligatory depression diagnosis and Tumblr account combo, and things spiraled out from there I guess..."

"Ah, and here I thought it was just your ill-suited attraction to old men!" He lets out a warm chuckle at his own joke and I must've misheard him.

"What?" I shift a bit in my place on the couch, called out.

He scoffs. "Come on, (y/n). Let's not play this game. You've been eyeing me up since dinner, sitting there and sipping your drink and sucking berries off your fork in the most salacious way, letting your gaze linger, innocent and doe-eyed yet so apathetic to it all," he rolls his eyes like he might be as well, "when in reality, it seems, correct me if I go wrong, but you've been looking at me all night like you want me to touch you. Is that accurate or am I projecting a fantasy?"

The tip of his tongue trails his lip, my gaze following its path and I'm warm. His eyes search mine, that was supposed to be a question.

"Uhm... no that... that sounds...accurate..." I admit almost silently, eyes boring into the floor as I sheepishly take another sip of my wine.

"Hm. I see. And in front of your father too...tsk, naughty girl. Lucky for you the man's terrible at reading body language or subtext of any variant,"

Mr. Reed rises from his chair across the coffee table and plants himself on the edge of the sofa next to me. "I, however, do not have that problem." I look up at him and his eyes are two blue marbles behind those wireframed glasses, his cheshire smirk enough to melt me, it's overwhelming.

My face grows hot and my body tight as he delicately removes the wineglass from my hand, sets it down on the coffee table, and leans down to kiss me.

He's tender and gentle and his lips are soft, his tongue stained with blueberry filling as it finds mine, and he strokes my cheek. I place a shaky hand on his knee and one of his covers it as he presses his forehead to mine, breaking the spell. "Are you certain this is something you want, (y/n)? I wouldn't want to impose-" I cut him off with another, more assertive kiss because I need this.

The holidays are stressful and I'm horny and he's here. Fuck it.

As we continue making out, Mr. Reed scoots onto the couch beside me and I find his zipper. His dick jumps to meet my hand through the fabric as one of his hands slips under my sweater and he moans at the softness of my breast.

I pull away to unzip his pants and stroke him a couple times before moving to kneel between his legs. I look up to him, reverent, then back down to his cock, throbbing in hand. Giving him a few steady strokes, I lean forward, parting my lips.

"Can I?" I blink.

He nods eagerly, transfixed.

I take as much of him into my mouth as I can and swallow as his tip hits the back of my throat.

I hear him suck in a breath and his hands find my hair as I start to bob my head over the length of him, holding his balls with one hand and methodically stroking his base with the other. His breath catches, ragged and I feel him spasm in my mouth. I need him. I finally come up for air with a gasp and wipe a tendril of spit off my lower lip as I look up at him. "Mr. Reed, I want to fuck you," I breathe.

"Well all you had to do was ask," he sighs and I pull myself up off the floor, undoing my jeans and tugging them off my legs as quickly as I can before tearing off my sweater and within seconds I'm standing before him in just my panties and bralette. His eyes trail over me. His teeth sink into his lower lip as a hand wraps around his dick and I place a knee on either side of his legs, straddling him. Fair is fair and my fingers slip under the hem of my panties so I can work myself for him as he takes me in.

"How do you want me?"

"Turn around."

I follow his blunt instruction and as I do his fingers hook into either side of my panties, pulling the dampened fabric down my legs.

"Now, you're going to squat down for me... slowly."

I do as I'm told and he guides my hips, lining himself up with my center. Mr. Reed rests his hands on the tops of my thighs, pushing me further down into his lap and I gasp as I feel him begin to penetrate me. I knew it was big, I mean, he could barely fit in my mouth, but christ. I swivel my hips in an attempt to adjust to him, and hear him draw in a breath.

"(y/n), I want you to bounce for me, and you. will. not. make. a sound. understood?"

"Y-yes Mr. Reed."

I start to raise and lower myself slowly on him and gasp sharply as I feel myself tense. He holds me steady by my biceps and guides me up and down.

"Good, that's- ohh that is good, just keep going... mm, mhm, just. like. that. you. Are. Brilliant..." he murmurs, squeezing my ass and I bite back a moan

"Shhhh-shh..."

"Ssorry Mr. Reed," I manage quietly.

He continues to guide my movements, faster now, and I watch his head tip against the back of the couch. His cock twitches inside me and gasp sharply.

"(y/n), stand for me?" And I do.

He turns me around by my hips and I blink down at Mr. Reed and he's panting, glasses perched on top of his head, looking me over hungrily.

"Lay back on the couch here, pet."

He sets a pillow down for me to rest my head on and I do as he says, watching him part my legs, settling between them as he presses gentle kisses up my inner thighs, staring intently into my eyes as he does.

He hovers over my core and I gasp at the warmth of his breath. I watch Mr. Reed's eyes close for a moment as he inhales the scent of my sex and smirks to himself.

"Does your pussy taste like Pepsi Cola then, (y/n)?" He lets out a low chuckle at his own corny little quip, bringing his mouth closer "Shall we find out?"

He pins my thighs open and slowly licks a wide stripe up my vulva from entrance to clit. I can't hold back the whimper that slips from me at the heat of his tongue, and it's even harder to silence msyelf when he dips two fingers into me, curling the pads of his fingertips just slightly as he steadily works me, his tongue moving in a synced rythym against my clit.

The sensation is almost too much and I gasp as I feel myself spasm a couple times around his fingers. He hums into me and the vibration sends a shudder through my body. He tilts his head up, panting as he continues fingering me, and my hips arch up to meet his hand.

He removes his fingers, pressing them against the plush of my lower lip and into my mouth. I suck and lick impatiently, and before long his mouth is on mine again as I feel his cock slip back into me. I can't help the soft moan that escapes my lips as he begins to slowly rock his hips into mine.

"Mister Reed?" I breathe

"Mm?"

"It's... you're just...so big...." He smirks.

"Oh, I'm aware dear." He picks up his pace some "You're taking me so well, though..." he presses a kiss into the side of my neck and I gasp.

"Being so good for me..."

A loud creak interrupts us from overhead and Mr. Reed stops moving, eyes glued upwards as he clamps his hand over my mouth.

Heavy footsteps make the floorboards groan above us as he slowly starts to fuck me again and I take in a sharp breath through my nostrils, looking up at him, panicked.

"Shhh, shh-" another low creak.

Mr. Reed quickens his thrusts and I involuntarily whine against his hand which finds it's way to my neck instantly, holding firm.

"I said. Be quiet." He whispers sternly.

I bite my lip in an effort not to cry out, nodding and I begin to feel that familiar tension coiling inside as he bucks into me, my mind going totally blank at the way his hand feels wrapped around my throat.

The footsteps and floorboards finally stop, his grip on my neck releases some, and a warm haze overtakes my body as he continues to forcefully piston into me. I feel myself starting to tense up and struggle for breath as I unwind completely under him.

Seconds later, Mr. Reed lets out a low groan and I feel his orgasm pulse out acutely within me as I weather my own.

We lay there for a few minutes and as we come down together, the weight of our indiscretion settles in some.

I've just fucked my dad's best friend. Three days before Christmas. And I liked it. A lot.

"Needed.. that..." I huff.

"I could tell," he chortles.

Mr. Reed slips out of me, grabbing one of the discarded linen napkins from the coffee table to clean himself off with, before gently tucking it between my legs.

"Oh, and... it does, by the way."

Part 2❄️

[junkpuppet225]

This came to me yesterday after hearing a song. It’s random, set after the series finale while Daryl’s on his journey to find himself but also pre-apocalypse flash back. Similar to things I’ve written before but what can I say I do what I want. Smut! DarylxFem!Reader. Underage (barely, both are seventeen and consenting). Language. Hazardously proof read and quickly written. I hope you enjoy! ✌🏼

~~~

Fear

Daryl’s heart hammers hard in his chest, eyes wide with calloused palms raised in that familiar sign of surrender. The sudden adrenaline coursing through his veins has nothing to do with the shotgun pointed at his face and everything to do with the memory of pushing his dad’s Ford a half mile down the trailer parks dirt road.

He waited for Will Dixon to pass out with a beer in his hand before plucking the keys from his shirt pocket and making his way silently to the worn driveway in front of the shack they called home. He was a pro at slipping the truck into neutral and backing it onto the dirt road, even better at pushing it away from the trailer to where you stood with that amazing smile that lit his fucking soul on fire.

Three years of grand theft auto and he never once got caught but damn if every glance he stole, every gaze into your enchanting eyes didn’t ruin him for anyone else.

“Old man got started late.” Daryl mutters when you lift yourself into the truck beside him - watching him crank the engine to put as much space between you and the trailer park as possible. If your dad ever realizes you’re sneaking out with a Dixon in the middle of the night he’ll kill you both. He’s threatened it before.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t waitin’ long.” You assure with that thousand watt smile that brings on his own along with a flush of pink that crawls up the back of his neck. He allows himself one quick glance your way then glues his eyes to the dark road ahead while you sit in awkward silence picking at your nail polish.

Everything changed between you when Daryl walked up to your shared bus stop this morning empty handed and unable to look you in the eye. That was normal - he never carried any books and eye contact wasn’t really his thing but on this odd Friday morning he didn’t stop a foot away with his head hanging like usual - he kept walking until he was sinking a rough hand into your hair and pulling you to his mouth. This morning he kissed you for the first time ever and it’s left a strange, desperate feeling blooming in your chest.

Daryl bounces down the deserted street, tossing you both around the cab of the truck as he turns off the beaten path to the familiar clearing where the crickets and the frogs are the only sounds. That and the hammering of your heart against your chest. You lift your eyes quickly, studying his profile as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel with one hand and brushes the other over his jaw - meeting your gaze for a split second before dropping it quickly.

“What?”

The word is barely audible, a rumbling in his throat as he sits up straighter failing to not look at you. When your eyes meet this time he doesn’t look away.

“You kissed me this morning.” It’s not a question, more of a confused statement that has him slowing to a stop in the middle of the forest. Daryl doesn’t make you any comment as he puts the truck in park and sits back in the drivers seat without a word.

“Why?” You whisper bringing your attention back to your now ruined nails. He has no idea what to say - how to explain how the sun peeked through the tree line this morning making your eyes almost glow as he watched you chew your bottom lip. Or the smile you gave him when your eyes finally met. It broke something inside of him and the only thing he could think about was kissing you - the thought of your lips on his consuming his very being as he mustered up all of his courage to do just that. It’s left a strange, desperate feeling blooming in his chest.

“Jus’…, wanted to. I… don’t know.”

You drag in a deep inhale of air to get the next few words out as Daryl dares another glance your way. “Do y-you want to… do it again?” You watch his entire body go rigid, eyes falling to your parted lips as he brings his own between his teeth. A habit he’s picked up from years of subtle watching while your attention is elsewhere. When he doesn’t answer you let your eyes fall to your lap and pray the earth will open up and swallow you whole.

“Y-yeah. I want to.”

Daryl’s words are so quiet you almost miss them - your breath catching in your throat as he idly leans closer to you. There’s suddenly no air in the cab of the truck and your heart is reaching a critical speed in your chest. “Do ya want to?” All you can manage is the slight nod of your head as you watch his hand lift from his lap, cupping the back of your neck as he brings you to his waiting mouth pressing your lips together much like he did this morning except this time the school bus doesn’t start up the graveled road and rip him from your grasp.

His lips are warm and surprisingly soft, moving against yours for a moment before he pulls away just enough to take in a needed breath. “W-was that okay?” His deep voice fills the cab causing your eyes to startle open as you whisper yes against his lips and lean into him again, daring to open yourself up to him and brush your tongue against his. The groan that rumbles in his chest boosts your confidence enough to let you touch him, running your fingers along the tight muscles of his shoulders before sinking into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He rewards you with another deep groan, his own hand tightening in the back of your hair as the other grips at your waist to pull you closer. The feel of his tongue against yours and the heat radiating from his body has your head spinning as you all but climb into his lap to get closer.

“Is this okay?” You whisper against his mouth - breathing in his quick and nervous puffs of air, heat prickling at his neck as it runs along his jaw and up his cheeks - unable to look you in the eye once again. His dick is painfully hard in his jeans and there’s no guarantee he won’t blow his load the second you sit down but that’s just a risk he’s going to have to take because denying you in this second would rip his soul from his body. “Y-yeah…” He tries to clear the desire from his rough voice - failing miserably as he adds “…s’okay…” before gripping your hips to bring you down to his lap.

You sink your hands into his hair and kiss him desperately, filling his mouth with your slow tongue while he digs his fingers into your skin leaving bruises in his wake. The feel of you on him - rutting your hips against his cock has him leaning you against the steering wheel to chase your kiss - honking the horn as a giggle that sounds like heaven on earth escapes you.

“Shit…, sorry—-.” You kiss him again, stealing his words as his hands roam your body - sliding up your stomach to caress soft skin as you work your hips against his. You’re driving him crazy and he’s not sure how much more he can take, groaning into your kiss as you grind against him.

You feel like you’re on fire - burning desperately for him as Daryl runs his calloused thumbs along your ribs daring to caress the edge of your bra as he pulls away from you once again and whispers your name like a prayer. He takes his hands from under your shirt and places a rough palm to your cheek as you search blue eyes - chest heaving with desire while he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. “Yer gonna…,” He drops your gaze - holding your face with strong hands, afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. “…gonna make me cum if ya keep that up.”

You feel your own blush heat your face as you whisper an apology and stop moving against him, pulling air into your spent lungs as he hangs his head - sinking his fingers into soft hair. “Daryl?” You watch his arms tense, the thick cords straining against his skin as a rush of air passes between you and he meets your hooded eyes. “Y-yeah?”

You let your fingers trail down his chest trying to keep your hips as still as possible while leaning closer to him - your mouths inches apart. He looks like a man starved, letting his gaze fall to your parted lips. “Do you want to have sex?” You swear you watch his heart stop - eyes glazing over as he takes in your words and a deep, ragged breath.

Has a seventeen year old guy ever said no to that question?

He’s only thought about having sex with you every waking moment since he became a teenager. “Do you?” He grunts - searching your eyes for the truth. It doesn’t matter what he wants - if you’re not ready then this stops now. “As long as it’s with you.” You assure him as you watch his eyes close in desperation, blowing the air from his lungs at the thought of being inside you. “T-that ain’t a yes.”

Another hiss of pleasure passes between you with your answer. “Yes Daryl.” You whisper against his ear bringing a primal growl from deep inside of him as his arms wrap around you - maneuvering inside the tight cab until you’re on your back and he’s kissing you desperately - sinking his body into yours as his hand moves up your leg and into the pleated skirt around your waist - resting his forehead against yours as his eyes close tightly. He has to be able to feel your heart beating against his own chest as he caresses the inside of your thigh and groans from the desperate sounds escaping you.

His fingers hesitate - shaky breaths bringing your eyes together. “Y-ya sure?”

You’ve seen Daryl face a hundred beatings in his lifetime - watched him grab up venomous snakes and chase packs of vicious coyotes out of your yard without faltering but looking at him now as his thumb idly brushes against the center of your soaked panties - he’s terrified.

“Touch me.” You sink your finger’s into the back of his hair as his mouth finds yours while continuing to hesitate between your thighs making you squirm. “P-please Daryl.” His head falls, dark hair tickling your throat as he mumbles a string of profanity against your collar bone before finally slipping inside the soft material and running his fingers along your slit. “…holy shit…” A soft cry rushes from your lungs as your body jerks with his touch, arms wrapping around him as his weight sinks further into your body.

“Are ya o-okay?” Daryl whispers against your throat, sinking another finger inside of you with his own desperate groan. “Y-yeah, don’t stop - please.” It’s Daryl’s turn to rut his aching cock against your thigh while he pumps unsure fingers into you slowly, afraid he’ll somehow hurt you as your body begins to tremble from his touch. “…ya sure you’re okay?”

“Mmmhm.” Stars dot your vision as his fingers slow causing a different groan to fall from your lips as he pushes himself up on his arms to look at you - your name rushing from his lungs as you take his belt in your hands and pull leather from metal quickly. A moment later his throbbing cock is in your hand - heart racing as you brush your thumb over the slick head to pump him in your fist, bringing a groan from deep in his chest.

“…f-fuck…, I ain’t gonna last ten seconds inside of you.” He warns with a grunt as you smile up at him bringing a flood of emotion into his chest. He’s never seen anything more beautiful than you in his entire life. All of the quiet sunsets he’s watched deep in these woods while nursing wounds inflicted by his dad have nothing on the shy smile you’re giving him now.

Daryl leans over you to rummage inside the glove box while you run your hand along his cock slowly, bringing a quiet whimper to his lips. This is going to be over before it even gets started. You lay your head back on the seat and watch him pull a condom from the open box he stole from Merle’s sock drawer letting your hand fall away as he fumbles with the packaging - nearly dropping the damn thing twice before it’s open and sliding over him. If there’s one thing him and Merle can agree on it’s that they should never procreate. The last thing this world needs is another Dixon.

When your eyes finally meet his are still full of fear, heat rising into his cheeks again as you touch his hips and assure him it’s okay - pulling him down to you as his mouth finds yours and he kisses you slowly, savoring every inch of your mouth as his cock twitches against your soaked center causing his heart to nearly stop.

“Y-ya sure you want to do this?” He whispers against your lips as you nod, holding your breath while he grasps the base of his cock - pushing inside of you slowly.

The sound that leaves his throat is like nothing you’ve ever heard before, it sends a thrill to your very core as you place your hands to his throat and nod again - silently encouraging him to keep going as he gives you another slow inch. The groans that leave his lungs are incoherent - garbled curse words barely audible as you watch his eyes close with pleasure, strong arms nearly giving out once he’s filled you completely.

“…y-ya okay?” Daryl asks, burying his face in the bend of your shoulder as you nod - your own eyes closing tightly as he begins to move. “Ya gotta breathe.” He whispers as you drag needed air into your lungs and allow the moan you’ve been suppressing to rumble between you. All you can comprehend is the feel of him inside of you - his shallow thrusts that fuel the fire spreading through your body. “…tell me yer okay..” He pleads against your throat as another soft moan escapes you - clinging to him with your nails digging into his skin. “I’m o-okay…” You gasp as he thrusts harder. “…feels so good Daryl..”

It’s his turn to nod, deep grumbles of pleasure filling your ear as he moves - gripping your hip with one hand while the other sinks into your hair and he locks his blue eyes with yours. Lifting your face to his - demanding his tongue with yours - he thrust into you deeper, causing his pace to slip as a rush of pleasure brings on his release and he groans into your mouth.

“…s-shit…” Daryl hangs his head, emptying himself into the condom as you look up at him in wonder. “Shit.” He repeats pulling out of you quickly as he tries to drag air into his lungs. “M’sorry…, that was too fast…” His worried gaze avoids yours as your fingers brush against his jaw forcing him to look at you.

“It was perfect.” You whisper, raking your nails into the back of his damp hair as he laughs nervously, shaking his head at the thought. The black eye Merle gifted him the next day when he found his empty box of rubbers would forever go down as the best day of his life.

Every second he got to spend with you was etched in his memory - some days it was the only thing that kept him going. Now you’re standing before a ghost - staring into familiar blue eyes with a shot gun raised in warning, a knowing smile spreading across your face as you realize you recognize the trace of fear in his gaze.

~~~

[lisenberry]

Fluffy fluff.

CW: Pregnancy and child birth, language

Ch.2, Ch.3 Ch.4

You knew this day would come. Your due date wasn’t until the following week, but as of your last check-up, the midwife didn’t think you would make it that long.

But you were still surprised, and fought a rising panic, when you woke up around dawn to your first set of contractions. They weren’t terrible, at first, and you tried to remain calm as you showered, dressed in the comfortable outfit you’d set aside and checked your hospital bag for the thousandth time since you’d packed it weeks ago.

You’d read all of the books and watched all of the videos. It was a long process, and there was no rush to get to the hospital at this stage. It could be hours, days even before anything happened.

You were completely prepared and in control.

Until you stepped out into your hallway and straight into the wall of heat and muscle that was your neighbor.

“Oh, hi, John. I didn’t know you were back.” It’d been over a year since he’d left.

Why on earth he kept such an expensive apartment when he hardly ever lived in it, you couldn’t understand. He’d lived across the hall for five years, and had spent less than six months total sleeping in his bed.

And every so often, when it worked out, in yours.

“I got in late last night.” He paused, brows drawn together as he took in your obvious condition. “I was just heading to the gym.”

Jesus, he looked so good. Even in track shorts and a hooded sweatshirt. It pulled tightly across his chest as he rocked back on his heels. No doubt doing the quick math as to whether or not he could be responsible.

“I’m headed to have a baby,” you huffed out, as a sudden rush of spasming pain in your back nearly keeled you over.

That was a new feeling. It felt urgent. Shit, maybe you should’ve left sooner.

“Right now?” He lunged to grab your bags from your arms as you leaned against the wall for support.

“Not yours, don’t worry.” You laughed up at him, in an attempt to lighten the awkwardness of the exchange.

“Can I call someone for you?”

“I called a cab. It’s on its way.” The pressure started to ebb as you chanced a few steps towards the stairs.

“A cab? Absolutely not, I’ll drive you.”

“No, please. It’s fine. I have a plan. It’s all going to plan.”

But he’d taken possession of your hospital bag and your diaper bag, and had them loaded into the boot of his truck before you could protest.

“Is your boy—the father meeting you there?” Once he’d hoisted you into the passenger seat, and started the engine, he finally asked the question that had been left hanging between you.

“He’s not in the picture.”

Never was, you didn’t add. After you’d convinced yourself it would never work out between you and John, you'd had a brief fling with a visiting colleague from Berlin.

Imagine your surprise when you found out you were pregnant a month after he’d finished the project and gone home. To his wife, you found out later.

“You’re doing this alone?”

“It’s going to be fine. I told you, I have a plan.”

**********

“You don’t have to stay, really. I can do this on my own.” The contractions had become so intense, you couldn't control your voice enough to sound convincing.

His sympathetic smile as he finished filling out your intake paperwork was purely to placate. He had no intention of leaving. And you were grateful for his help.

The fact that he knew so much about you to only need to ask a few questions when completing the never-ending forms should’ve been alarming, not comforting.

Your blood type? Had you ever told him that?

“Aren’t you preregistered? How many times have you had to give them the same information?” He drew his eyebrows together in frustration as he realized the next packet was double sided.

“A fucking thousand.” You focused on your breathing and fought the waves of nausea that seemed to get worse along with the pain.

Weren’t there supposed to be breaks? You were told there would be breaks. You barely got a second to unclench your fists before another one started again.

You stood too quickly and steadied yourself with a hand to his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Concerned, he stood with you.

“I’m going to be sick.” You rushed, or rather waddled at your fastest pace, to the nearby family restroom and he trailed along close behind.

He stopped momentarily at the triage desk to slap the clipboard down and boom something about needing a room immediately, before following you in and holding your hair back as you wretched into the toilet.

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” He soothed, as he rubbed your back and passed you a wad of tissue.

“Please don’t leave me,” you croaked out, tears flowing at your helplessness and the sudden realization that this was only the beginning. That your life would never be the same.

“Careful what you wish for, darling.”

Once you were admitted to a room and set up with effective pain management, you finally relaxed enough to get your wits about you. And that involved, in no small part, frequently reminding the staff that, no, John was not your husband. He wasn’t even the father.

He wasn’t nearly as dedicated to correcting them as you were.

Things seemed to happen quickly, although you’d find out later that you labored well into the night, with a tireless, supporting hand held firmly in yours.

“You did so good, love.” When it was all over, he wiped a sweaty, wayward lock of hair from your cheek and planted a kiss on the top of your head. Seemingly as relieved as you were. As if he’d been holding his breath along side you.

You missed the look the nurse gave you as she placed the squirming infant on your chest, nor did you hear her mutter under her breath, “Not the father, my ass.”

“Welcome to the world, sweetheart,” you cooed, the pain quickly forgotten as you felt a tremendous sense of peace. Clarity.

“And welcome home, John.”

[the-winter-spider]

Yours, Always | Part Sixteen

Steve x reader, Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Nothing really this ones joyful

A/N: ONE MORE CHAPTER AFTER THIS TILL WE HEAD BACK TO THE CITY.

Masterpost

---

Breakfast had been easy, lighthearted Sam cracking jokes, you and Bucky stealing glances, Steve’s absence lingering like a ghost neither of you wanted to acknowledge. It felt like the first morning in a long time where you could breathe.

So when Bucky tossed his keys in the air and caught them with a smirk, asking, “Wanna go to the flea market in the next town over?��� you nearly jumped out of your seat.

“Oh my God, of course,” you grinned, already reaching for your bag.

Bucky chuckled at your excitement as you turned to Sam, who was stretching his arms over his head. “You coming?”

Sam scoffed. “Duh, I leave tonight, and I need one more day with you two hooligans before I go.”

You beamed, linking your arm through his for a second before grabbing your coffee off the counter. “Good, because we are professionals at flea markets.”

Sam shook his head as Bucky pulled his truck keys from his pocket, leading the way outside. “Man, I can already tell this is gonna be a nightmare.”

Bucky’s truck was an old thing, a single cab with a long, worn-down bench seat stretching across the front. It smelled like leather and faintly of gasoline, and when you slid in, wedged between Sam and Bucky, it felt like muscle memory.

Sam clicked his seatbelt into place. “Can’t believe this thing is still running, thought for sure she would only last the day.”

Bucky turned the key in the ignition, grinning as the engine roared to life. “Like a dream.”

Sam made a face. “More like a nightmare.”

You laughed as Bucky pulled out onto the road, the sun streaming through the windshield. The town faded into rolling green hills and stretches of farmland, and after a few minutes of comfortable silence, Bucky reached for the radio dial.

Static. A half-played country song. Another burst of static. Then you heard it.

Your eyes widened.

Bucky glanced at you with a slow grin, already knowing.

“Oh, hell no,” Sam groaned, but it was too late.

Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me

But I won’t feel blue

You and Bucky both screamed the words at the top of your lungs, completely out of sync, Bucky drumming on the steering wheel, you dancing as much as you could while sitting down.

“I swear to God,” Sam muttered, running a hand down his face. “The worst. You two are the worst.”

That only made you and Bucky sing louder.

Sam groaned dramatically, flopping his head back against the seat. “I hate this. I hate both of you.”

“You love us,” you said over the music.

“No, I tolerate you,” he corrected. “Barely.”

Bucky laughed, “Everyone loves ABBA, you’re just tryna be cool.” his eyes crinkling at the corners, and when your thigh brushed his, just lightly, just enough to notice you felt a blush creep up your neck. You were thankful he didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it.

But it felt… right. It was easy, like slipping back into something that had been waiting for you all along.

The flea market was spread across an open field, lined with rows of white tents and stalls filled with antiques, handmade crafts, and all the strange odds and ends you could imagine. It smelled like fried food and old books, and you loved every second of it.

“Alright, children,” Sam said, clapping his hands. “What’s the game plan?”

“Wander until we find something weird,” Bucky said simply.

“That won’t take long,” you added.

Sam sighed, adjusting his sunglasses. “This is gonna be a long day.”

You and Bucky immediately veered off toward the first stall you saw, which was covered in vintage records.

Bucky flipped through them, pausing when he found an old Springsteen album. He held it up to you. “Remember when I played this nonstop?”

“Oh God, do I ever,” you groaned. “I still hear ‘Thunder Road’ in my nightmares.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “This is what you choose to bond over? Springsteen?”

Bucky smirked. “She liked it.”

You scoffed. “I tolerated it.”

“Barely,” Bucky teased, mocking Sam’s tone from earlier.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

The three of you meandered through the market, stopping at a booth selling handmade jewelry. You picked up a dainty gold ring, turning it over in your fingers.

“It’s cute,” you murmured.

Bucky glanced at it. “You should get it.”

You made a face. “I don’t need it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, taking it from you and handing it to the vendor. “She’ll take it.”

You gawked at him. “Bucky—”

“Don’t fight me on this,” he said, handing over some cash. “Consider it a belated, very belated birthday gift.”

You bit your lip as the vendor slipped the ring into a small velvet pouch. Bucky handed it to you, and you hesitated before slipping it onto your finger.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

His eyes met yours, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

The moment lingered a second too long, until Sam reappeared, holding up a ridiculous T-shirt that read Bigfoot is Real and He Stole My Beer.

“Tell me this isn’t the best thing you’ve ever seen,” Sam said, grinning.

Bucky snorted. “I’d wear it.”

“I know you would,” Sam deadpanned. “I’m gonna get it.”

The three of you continued exploring, stopping for lemonade and splitting an order of fried dough, the powdered sugar getting all over your fingers.

Bucky nudged you, wiping a bit off the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

Your breath hitched.

His hand lingered for half a second before he pulled away, popping the powdered sugar into his mouth with a smirk.

Your face was burning.

Sam, completely oblivious, was busy haggling with a vendor over a rusty pocket knife.

By the time the sun started dipping lower, you had a few small trinkets in your bag Bucky’s gift, a small book of poetry, and a keychain shaped like an old truck.

“Sentimental,” Bucky said, nodding at the keychain as you walked back to the truck.

You shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

As you wandered further through the market, the scent of fresh leather and baked goods mingling in the air, you spotted a small stall tucked between two larger tents. The booth was filled with colorful beaded rope bracelets, hanging in neat rows some with patterns, others just vibrant strings twisted together. It was a simple setup, but something about it drew you in.

Bucky followed you, his hands in his pockets, looking more relaxed than he had in days.

“This stuff is way too cute,” you said, lifting one of the bracelets off its display hook. It was a mix of blues, greens, and whites, the beads shimmering under the sun.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, watching you with a soft smile. “Yeah? You thinking of getting one?”

You bit your lip, considering. “I don’t know… I just think it’s funny, you know? How, when we were kids, everyone had BFF necklaces or matching bracelets. You know, the ones that say ‘Best Friends Forever.’”

Bucky chuckled, his lips curving in that familiar grin you loved. “Yeah, I remember those.”

“You know, if you were a girl, we’d totally have had matching necklaces.”

He glanced at you sideways, a playful glint in his eyes. “Why did I have to be a girl, I woulda wore it.”

Your eyes widened at his comment, blinking in disbelief. “Really?” you asked, surprised. “You’d wear a stupid ‘Best Friends’ necklace?”

Without missing a beat, Bucky gave you a deadpan look. “I would’ve worn it either way. Doesn’t matter to me if I’m the only guy in the world with a friendship necklace.”

You stared at him for a second, heart fluttering in your chest at the sincerity in his voice. “You’d do that for me?”

His smile softened. “Of course. You think I’d let something like that stop me?”

You felt something inside you shift, a warm rush of affection that made your chest feel tight. It wasn’t just a simple friendship for Bucky; it never had been. Not for you, at least.

You cleared your throat, trying to hide the sudden intensity of your feelings. “Well, if you had worn one, I would’ve done it, too. Guess we’ll never know, huh?”

Bucky laughed. “Guess not.”

A woman standing behind the booth watched the exchange with a smile and spoke up. “I have a set of bracelets, you know. They’re good luck charms.”

You glanced over, your eyes landing on a pair of brightly colored beaded rope bracelets. One was a mix of gold and deep red, and the other was a matching set in ocean blue and white. “We could totally wear these as ‘Best Friends’ bracelets,” you said with a smile.

Bucky turned to the woman, the grin still on his face but something almost serious behind his eyes. “I’ll take two of the matching ones,” he said, reaching into his wallet.

You could hardly believe it. “Wait, seriously?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

He gave a nonchalant shrug as he handed the money over. “Yeah, why not? You said you’d wear one, right? So might as well make it official.”

The woman packed the bracelets into a small bag and handed them over to you. You held the little pouch in your hands for a second, feeling the weight of it. You couldn’t quite put it into words, but the gesture, this simple exchange meant something to you. Something that felt more meaningful than just a silly, childhood tradition.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you as you stared at the bag. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to match me?”

You shook your head, finally smiling, even as your chest tightened with something that was definitely more than just friendship. “No, I do. I want to. It’s just… it’s funny, you know? After all these years we are officially best friends.”

Bucky looked at you with a mixture of amusement and something else, something soft in his expression that you couldn’t quite figure out. “We’re always gonna be best friends, no matter what happens, Right?”

You took a deep breath, glancing at him. “Yeah, always.”

You slid the bracelet onto your wrist, and when you glanced at him, Bucky was already wearing his. The beads, simple and vibrant, now tied you together in a way that felt permanent.

The two of you didn’t say much on the drive back. The sky had started its slow descent into gold and amber, the summer air warm as it rolled through the open windows. Sam had passed out in the passenger seat, arms crossed, head tilted back, his soft snores blending with the hum of the radio.

You stared out at the familiar streets, your fingers ghosting over the bracelet. The colors of the beads were already fading in the dimming light, but the meaning behind them, what they stood for felt stronger than ever.

“Long day,” Bucky murmured, his voice barely carrying over the music.

You turned to him, smiling. “The best kind.”

By the time you pulled into the driveway, Sam groaned, stretching dramatically as he woke up. “Man, I really don’t wanna leave,” he muttered, rubbing his face.

Bucky snorted. “You’re not even gone yet, and you’re already getting sentimental.”

Sam flipped him off, making you laugh as you all climbed out of the truck.

The golden hues of the very start of the sunset stretched over the backyard, casting everything in a warm glow. You, Bucky, and Sam sat around with half-empty beer bottles, soaking in the last bit of time before Sam had to hit the road. It had been a damn good day, one of those rare, easy days where everything felt light.

Sam exhaled, stretching his arms behind his head. “Alright,” he said, eyes flicking between you and Bucky, mischief already brewing. “I gotta ask.”

You raised a brow. “About?”

He smirked, nodding toward Bucky. “Why Super Trouper?”

Bucky groaned immediately, rubbing a hand over his face.

You grinned, already knowing where this was going. “Oh, you mean my song?”

Sam nearly dropped his beer. “Your song?” He turned to you, his mouth practically twitching with amusement. “So you’re the culprit. You and Super Trouper? Really?”

You sighed dramatically. “I regret everything.” Bucky laughed, you nudged his arm. “Come on, tell him.”

Bucky gave you a look, but relented. “We’ve always had a thing for ‘80s music,” he muttered. “Started as a joke, she used to make fun of all the songs I liked, but then one day she just didn’t.”

“It’s not my fault you played em constantly,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “You broke me down.”

Sam snorted. “Man, this is gold.”

Bucky scowled. “Why are you acting like ABBA isn’t one of the greatest bands of all time?”

“Oh, I’m not saying they’re not,” Sam said, smirking. “I just never pegged you as the dancing queen type.”

Bucky flipped him off, taking a sip of his beer.

You grinned, leaning back in your chair. “To be fair, it’s not the only ‘80s song we have history with.”

Bucky turned to you, already knowing where you were going with this. “Don’t.”

You smirked. “Tell Sam what your favorite song is, then since he knows mine.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, looking at you like he could will you into silence.

You just grinned wider. Then, in a softer voice, you started, “Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you…”

Bucky groaned, but the corner of his mouth twitched as you kept going.

Sam threw his head back, laughing. “No fucking way!”

Bucky sighed, shaking his head. “She’s insufferable.”

“Oh no, you both are,” Sam corrected.

You just kept singing, now fully enjoying how annoyed Bucky looked.

“You love this song,” you teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered. “At least I have taste.”

Sam huffed out a laugh, standing up and stretching. “I can’t believe I’m leaving you two unsupervised.”

Bucky smirked. “Well, if you stayed, we’d just subject you to more ‘80s classics.”

Sam shook his head, making his way toward the house. “Y’all are so lucky I like you.”

As Sam disappeared inside, you turned back to Bucky, smiling softly.

“Time after time, huh?” you said, nudging him.

Bucky exhaled, glancing over at you, something unreadable in his expression. “Time after time,” he murmured.

---

The first time you and Bucky stumbled upon the flea market, you had been kids, maybe ten or eleven riding your bikes further than you were technically allowed to. It had been a hot Saturday, the kind where the pavement shimmered and sweat stuck to the back of your neck. You weren’t looking for anything, just killing time, when you saw the signs nailed to the telephone poles:

SUMMER FLEA MARKET — THIS WEEKEND ONLY!

Bucky skidded to a stop beside you, his sneakers dragging through the gravel. “You wanna check it out?”

You grinned. “Are you kidding? Obviously.”

It was bigger than you expected, rows and rows of booths set up in an open field, people selling everything from handmade jewelry to boxes of old comic books, to rusty antique tools that Bucky found weirdly fascinating. But the best part? The food. Kettle corn, caramel apples, cotton candy, funnel cakes more sugar than two kids should ever be allowed to consume.

Neither of you had much money, but what you did have, you spent entirely on junk food.

“I need one of those giant lollipops,” you’d declared, eyes wide as you grabbed Bucky’s sleeve, pointing at a display of rainbow-colored candy the size of your head.

Bucky squinted at the price tag. “That’s, like, three bucks.”

“I have four,” you said proudly.

He groaned. “You’re gonna be impossible later.”

And you were. By the time you left, your hands were sticky from caramel and your stomach ached from too much fried dough. You talked nonstop on the way home, until the sugar crash hit you like a freight train.

You barely made it to his porch before your legs started to feel like lead.

“I told you,” Bucky teased, rolling his eyes as he nudged you inside.

That night, you passed out on his couch mid-sentence, still clutching your lollipop.

Years later, the flea market became a tradition.

You were sixteen the next time you and Bucky went. It had been his idea this time, and he’d driven the two of you in his dad’s old truck, the one he’d spent months fixing up after finally getting his license.

It felt different now. Bigger. Like the whole world was stretching wide open, waiting for you both to step into it.

The vendors were mostly the same, but now there were things that caught your eye in a different way rings that made you think of what kind you’d want when you got married one day, books you swore you’d get around to reading, records for bands you actually liked now, instead of just stealing whatever your parents listened to.

You and Bucky spent hours wandering, eating too much sugar again, getting into a heated argument over which movie franchise was superior, until the sun started to set and of course, you crashed again.

This time, it wasn’t mid-sentence, it was in the truck. Bucky was driving, his window rolled down, one arm lazily draped over the wheel. The radio played something soft, something familiar, and the hum of the engine made your eyelids heavy.

“You good?” Bucky asked, glancing over when you shifted against the seat.

“Mhm.” You barely got the sound out before your head tipped against his shoulder.

For a second, he froze, like he wasn’t sure if he should move or stay perfectly still. But then he just exhaled softly, adjusting slightly to make sure you were comfortable.

He didn’t wake you when he pulled into your driveway.

Didn’t wake you when he cut the engine, just sat there in the warm summer night, listening to you breathe.

Eventually, with a sigh, he leaned his head back against the seat, eyes flickering up to the stars through the windshield.

He didn’t say it out loud.

Didn’t dare. But God, if he could’ve had this forever…just you, just like this he would have. His mind was reeling.

Because this? This was everything.

You, curled up beside him, trusting him enough to fall asleep here, pressed against his side like you belonged there. The way you mumbled his name in your sleep sometimes, the way your fingers had briefly curled into the fabric of his shirt, like even in your dreams, you were holding onto him.

He wished you would.

Maybe it was the soft hum of the radio, the smell of summer air through the open windows, or the way the stars stretched endlessly above the two of you, but something inside him settled. Clicked into place.

He could spend forever like this.

No parties, no other girls, no loud nights filled with empty laughter, just this. Just you. Just late-night drives and lazy afternoons and your head resting against his shoulder like it was always meant to be there.

Maybe that was love.

Not the kind of love the guys at school talked about, the reckless kind that burned fast and ended ugly. But the kind that stayed. The kind that felt like a slow, steady thing like the way the earth turned, the way the stars always found their way back to the sky.

The kind that meant forever.

Bucky swallowed hard, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. He’d never thought about forever before.

Not until now, not until you.

It scared the hell out of him, the weight of it, the inevitability of it. He was only sixteen for christ sake, sure he knew you were gorgeous and sure he had a crush on you, had since the day he first saw you but love? That was the next level. But if he knew one thing for certain, it was this…there was no one else, not for him. There never had been. There never would be. But he couldn’t tell you that. Not yet.

So instead, he let his eyes drift back down to you, taking in the soft curve of your cheek, the way your lashes fluttered when you dreamed.

And quietly, just to himself, he whispered, “I’d give you everything.”

Even if you never asked for it. Even if you never knew.

---

The town was quiet in the late evening, the streets bathed in golden sunlight, casting long shadows across the pavement. After Sam left, it was just you and Bucky, lazily strolling around town, sipping slushies like you were kids again.

Bucky’s lips were stained blue, yours red, and every now and then, he’d glance at you with that small, amused grin, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe this was real like he couldn’t believe you were real.

At some point, his steps slowed, his expression shifting, his gaze drifting toward the road that led to the cemetery. “I wanna see it,” he said suddenly.

You blinked. “See what?”

He didn’t look at you when he answered. “My grave.”

Your stomach twisted. The words sat heavy between you, making your chest feel tight. But you didn’t argue. If he wanted to see it, then you weren’t going to stop him.

The walk there was quiet, the only sound was the occasional sip from your straws and the soft crunch of gravel under your shoes. The cemetery looked the same as it always had peaceful, solemn.

And then, there it was.

James Buchanan Barnes

March 10, 1991 - September 2011

Loving Son, Loyal Friend

Bucky let out a breath, a dry chuckle escaping his lips. “Weird,” he muttered, tilting his head. “That’s… so weird.”

He crouched down, running a hand over the smooth, cold surface of the headstone, his fingers tracing the lettering like he still didn’t quite believe it was real.

“How many times have you been here?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You swallowed, gripping your slushie a little tighter. “Three.”

Bucky looked up at you. “Three?”

You nodded, licking your lips. “The funeral.” Your voice wavered slightly, but you pushed through. “The day I left.”

He frowned. “Why then?”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “I thought maybe if I said goodbye here, I’d leave the pain and grief here. That if I just… let it stay in this town, I wouldn’t have to carry it with me.”

Bucky swallowed hard, looking back at the headstone. “Did it work?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “No. It just manifested horribly in other ways.”

Bucky was silent for a long time before he nodded, like he understood that more than he wanted to. He let his fingers brush over the name carved into the stone, before sitting back on his heels, exhaling slowly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Your brows furrowed, and you took a step closer. “For what?”

His jaw clenched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “For what you went through. For all of it.”

“Bucky—”

“No.” He shook his head, finally looking at you. His blue eyes were glassy now, his voice cracking at the edges. “I can’t even imagine what that was like for you andI know you’re probably thinking, ‘Buck, don’t. It’s nothing compared to what you went through,’ but don’t dismiss your pain like that.”

You opened your mouth, but he cut you off before you could say anything.

“It sucks what happened to me,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But I held onto hope. Knowing you were safe, knowing you were out there, living your life, getting the things we always talked about, that’s what kept me going. But you? You had to deal with losing me andif it had been the other way around—”

His voice cracked.

“If I had lost you?” He shook his head, wiping quickly at his eyes before any tears could fall. “It would have fucking destroyed me.”

You stood there, your own eyes burning, your chest aching.

Bucky let out a breath, clearing his throat. “Alright.” He sniffed, forcing a chuckle. “That’s enough sap for one day.”

You smiled softly, bumping your shoulder against his. “Not your style, huh?”

“Not in public, no,” he muttered, making you both laugh. “Too many people here.” He looked around at all the graves. Bucky stood up, and you followed as you left the grave.

But the mood had shifted, lighter now, even as something deeper settled between you.

After a moment, he glanced at you. “So… why’d Steve leave early?”

Your stomach twisted. “I asked him if we could move here.”

Bucky blinked, eyebrows furrowing. “And?”

You scoffed. “He shot me down. Didn’t even pretend to think about it. Just no.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “Did he at least… ask why?”

“No,” you whispered, voice bitter. “That’s what hurts the most. He didn’t even consider it. Didn’t even ask.”

Bucky stayed quiet, his fingers flexing against his thighs. “I don’t get it,” he finally muttered. “You and him were talking about moving to Boston, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s only an hour away from here.”

“And he couldn’t even consider this for you?”

You shook your head, exhaling sharply. “Nope.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. He didn’t say anything, but the storm brewing in his eyes was enough.

You sighed, kicking at a loose rock. “I don’t know, Buck. I don’t know what happens now.”

He watched you for a long time before finally murmuring, “Yeah. Me neither.

Bucky kicked at a loose rock on the sidewalk, stuffing one hand into his pocket while sipping his slushie with the other. “So what do you do for work now?”

You smiled a little. “I work from home.”

He snorted. “Of course you do.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, grinning. “It means that if there was a way to make money while never leaving the house, of course you’d find it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, excuse me for not wanting to sit in traffic every morning.”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “So, what is it you actually do?”

You sipped your drink, stalling for a moment. “I do freelance work. Some consulting, some writing, a little bit of everything.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly. “So… you don’t really have coworkers?”

You hesitated. “Not really, no.”

He frowned. “What about friends?”

You sucked in a slow breath, gaze dropping to the sidewalk.

“Y/N…” Bucky’s voice was quieter now, softer.

You shrugged, attempting to sound casual. “I don’t really have any.”

His frown deepened.

You sighed, finally glancing up at him. “I didn’t want to get attached, Buck. I couldn’t handle a loss again.”

His whole body seemed to tense at that. “That’s not fair to you.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But it was easier.”

A silence settled between you. Not uncomfortable, but heavy.

After a moment, Bucky cleared his throat. “So… Steve’s friends?”

“He has two, Wanda and Clint.” That made you smile a little. “Wanda’s great. She’s sweet, she’s kind. She always makes an effort with me, checks in, makes sure I’m okay. She’s my favourite out of the two.”

Bucky nodded, but he was watching you carefully. “And the other one? Clint?”

You let out a breath. “He’s…” You trailed off, chewing on your bottom lip.

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

You huffed a laugh. “He’s kind of an asshole to me.”

That made his brows lift. “Why?”

You shrugged. “I get it, honestly. Natasha was his best friend. They were like family and I think… I think he feels like I replaced her.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched slightly.

“I mean,” you continued, “Steve and I are together. I adopted Lily. She calls me ‘Mom.’ I don’t think he’s ever said it, but I know he resents me for it.”

Bucky let out a sharp breath through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “That’s bullshit.”

You gave him a small smile. “It is what it is.”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky muttered, kicking at the sidewalk. “That doesn’t make it right.”

You nudged his arm lightly with your elbow. “I appreciate the outrage.”

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

You glanced at him. “What?”

Bucky sighed. “Just thinking that maybe if I had been there, you wouldn’t have had to go through all of that alone.”

Your throat tightened. “You are here now.”

He nodded once, but something lingered in his eyes. Something heavy.

---

The gravel crunched beneath your tires as you pulled off to the side of the road, your hands gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles ached. The car idled, humming beneath you, but you didn’t move. You just sat there, staring straight ahead, your heart hammering against your ribs like it was trying to break free.

You couldn’t do this.

But you had to.

Slowly, you unbuckled your seatbelt, your body feeling too heavy, too slow. The world outside was quiet, the late summer air thick with heat and the scent of pine. It smelled like home. Like childhood. Like everything you were about to leave behind.

The cemetery wasn’t far. Just a short walk through the grass, the path familiar under your feet despite how much you wished it wasn’t. Every step felt like lead, dragging you down, anchoring you to the earth when all you wanted was to run.

Bucky’s grave looked the same as it had at the service, fresh soil, a temporary marker with his name engraved in simple letters. James Buchanan Barnes. Below that, his birth date. And below that…

You swallowed hard, forcing your eyes away.

You weren’t ready to read it.

A sharp sob tore from your throat as you fell to your knees, the impact jolting through your bones. The grave was cool beneath your fingertips, solid and unmoving, as if to remind you that he was really here.

That he was never coming home.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, your voice raw, breaking, like something inside you was splintering apart with each word. “I can’t—I can’t stay here, Buck. I tried, I really did, but it hurts too much.”

The wind rustled through the trees, and for a second, you swore you could hear his laugh.

A sob shuddered through you.

“I’m leaving,” you admitted, your breath shaking. “I—I have to go back. I can’t be here. Not without you. And I know—I know that’s selfish, but God, Bucky, I don’t know how to do this. How to live without you.”

Your hands curled into the grass, into the dirt.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

For not writing back. For not being there. For every second of time that had slipped through your fingers like sand, lost forever and for his last letter. Your head bowed as fresh tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I got your letter,” you whispered. “I guess it's the last one. I—I can’t read it, Buck. I can’t. I won’t.”

You shook your head, your throat closing.

“Maybe one day. Maybe on my deathbed, I’ll open it. But not now. Not when I already know what it’s going to say.”

Not when you already knew how much it would break you.

A shaky breath left you, and for the first time since you sat down, you let yourself look at his name. Really look at it. The finality of it. The permanence.

A weight settled in your chest, pressing down, suffocating.

“This is goodbye,” you said, and the words felt foreign on your tongue, unnatural. “I’m letting you go.”

The wind picked up, cool against your damp skin.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Please let me go too.”

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, knees pressing into the dirt, hands shaking, chest hollow. But eventually, you forced yourself to move.

To stand, to walk away. You didn’t look back. Not when you reached your car. Not when you pulled onto the road. Not when the town disappeared behind you, fading into the horizon, into the past.

---

Bucky had just dropped you off after visiting the cemetery. You both lingered on the front porch.

“I promised Ma I’d help her with something,” he had told you, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I’ll come by later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I really just wanna wash up. I forgot how hot it gets here in the summer.”

Bucky chuckled. “You never used to complain.”

“Well, I was seventeen and invincible then,” you teased.

He smirked, tilting his head. “See you around nine?”

You nodded, giving him a small wave as he climbed into the truck and pulled away, the sound of the old engine fading down the street.

You sighed, rubbing your temples, before finally stepping inside.

Your mom was at the kitchen table, flipping through an old magazine, her half-finished iced tea sweating against the wood. She glanced up at you over her glasses, immediately sensing something.

“You wanna tell me the real reason why Steve left?”

You hesitated, reaching for a bottle of water from the fridge. “We had a fight.”

She sighed, setting the knife down. “I figured as much.” She turned to face you, crossing her arms. “About what?”

You swallowed, glancing at the floor. “I told him I wanted to move back home.”

Her brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t look surprised. “And he shot you down.”

“Immediately,” you admitted, shaking your head. “Like it wasn’t even something to consider.”

Your mom studied you for a long moment before she exhaled softly. “So… what does that mean for you two?”

You bit your lip. “I don’t know.”

She nodded slowly, as if waiting for you to continue. When you didn’t, she tilted her head. “And what do you want?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know, Mom. I just… I want to be home. I want to be near Bucky again.”

Your mom hummed thoughtfully, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Sweetheart, you’re an adult. Yes, you have a family. Yes, there’s compromise. But at the end of the day, this is your life too. You and Steve need to figure that out.”

You swallowed hard, nodding.

A silence stretched between you before you hesitated. “There’s, uh… there’s something else.”

Your mom arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You licked your lips, forcing yourself to look at her. “Bucky bought Miller’s old property.”

Your mom froze.

Her eyes widened slightly, searching your face as if trying to see if you were joking. “Sweetheart…”

“I know,” you said quickly, already hearing the warning in her voice.

Her lips parted, but she didn’t say anything right away. She just stared at you, and you could tell, she was remembering the same thing you were.

The scrapbook, your dream.

The pages you filled with sketches and magazine clippings, the way you talked about that land like it was yours before you were even old enough to understand what owning land meant. You even had a cutout from the local paper of the property itself, tucked in carefully between pages of house plans and paint swatches and Bucky knew that, he knew all your hopes and dreams.

You saw the realization dawn across your mom’s face, the way her chest rose and fell in a slow, steady breath before she finally spoke.

“Sweetheart.”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair. “I know.”

She didn’t say anything at first. Just nodded, like she was letting it sink in.

With a small, knowing smile, she simply said, “The universe has a funny way of working things out, doesn’t it? Have you talked to Steve today?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter. “We haven’t talked. We’re not supposed to talk until I get home the day after tomorrow.”

Your mom hummed, studying you carefully. “And what do you want?”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

She tilted her head. “This is your life, sweetheart. Not just Steve’s. Not just Bucky’s. Yours. What do you want?”

Your stomach twisted, and you looked away.

She gave you a knowing look. “Do you still love him?”

You swallowed, gripping the water bottle tightly. “Of course, I do. I’ll always love Steve.”

Your mom shook her head. “No, sweetie. Not him, Are you in love with Bucky?”

Your breath hitched. She knew. Of course, she knew.

Your voice was small. “I don’t think I’ll ever not be in love with Bucky.”

She let out a soft sigh, nodding, like she had been expecting it. “Then what do you want?”

Tears burned the back of your eyes as you whispered, “I just… I can’t choose between them.”

Your mom reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “It’s not fair to anybody if you don’t. Unless you let yourself make a choice on what you want, on who you want to be with you’ll just end up hurting everyone, including yourself.”

Silence stretched between you.

“My brain says Steve…” Your voice was quiet, the words stung as they left your mouth. “But my heart….”

Your mom’s voice softened. “The heart and the brain are always at war, sweetheart. The brain tells you what’s logical, what’s safe. But the heart… the heart tells you the truth. And no matter how much you try to ignore it, it will always be there, whispering the same name.”

Your breath trembled.

“What does your heart say?” she asked gently.

You didn’t have to think. You already knew.

“My heart wants the same person it’s always wanted,” you whispered. “But my brain, my brain is telling me otherwise.”

Your mom gave you a sad smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like she had when you were little.

“Then listen to your heart, honey. It’s never led you wrong before.” As your mom gave your hand one final squeeze, she stood, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’ll figure it out,” she murmured. “You always do.”

She left you sitting there, alone with your thoughts, with the war raging inside you. Silence settled in the kitchen, save for the soft hum of the old radio on the counter. You hadn’t even realized it was on, the station playing in the background all day. But now, as the quiet stretched, a familiar melody drifted through the speakers.

Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you…

Your breath caught in your throat.

The opening notes of Time After Time filled the space around you, weaving into the walls, into your bones, into the places of your heart that had belonged to Bucky for as long as you could remember.

If he were here, he’d be grinning. He’d nudge you, tell you it was a sign. Maybe it was.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for your bracelet, twisting the beaded string around your wrist.

The universe had a funny way of working things out.

If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting,

Time after time.

If you're lost, you can look and you will find me,

Time after time

[scmg11]

KATE BISHOP x READER

THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA

A/N: HELLO, HELLO, HELLO BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE! How are you?

I know, I know, I've disappeared again, but I've been struggling with my calculus exam and it's driving me crazy! But here I am!

Not gonna lie, I had so much fun writing this and I'm pretty proud of everything turned out (I was actually going to make this a book, but who knows? Tell me what you think *wink*).

As always, I'm sending you guys so so much love ❤️

Enjoy ❤️

-

Summary: Kate, CEO of BishopTech, is in need of a new assistant but has the reputation of keeping them for less than two days before firing them? Is Y/N going to last longer? She is there to stay.

Warnings: crass language, kissing but nothing too explicit.

Word count: 28343 words.

-

"Oh no, no, no, please no!" Y/N sprinted down the street to take the bus but before she could get in the doors closed and it drove away. "Great. Just fucking great!" Y/N lifted her arms up in the air in frustration then slammed them on her sides, huffing out angrily. "I’m gonna be fucking late for my job interview. Just great." Y/N spent a few seconds to regain her breath on the curb before murmuring under her breath, "and also a lot more broke than expected." Y/N sighed out loud dramatically and lifted her left hand up to call for a cab that was luckily driving down the street, "where to?"

Y/N gave the driver the address and sighed out in relief after controlling her phone. 7:54. She won’t be late.

-

"Miss Y/L/N?" Y/N lifted her head from her phone when she heard someone calling her last name and smiled at the blonde already grinning at her as she sat up and walked towards her, standing on the threshold of the room she was just in.

"Hi, I’m Y/N."

"I’m Carol. I’m the head of the Nanotech Department, but today I’m your interviewer for your job interview." Carol introduced herself after closing the door behind her and smiled widely at Y/N signaling her to sit on the chair in front of her huge wooden desk. As soon as Carol sat down, Y/N opened her bag and grabbed her resume, offering to the blond, who took a few moments to skid her eyes over the paper but focusing on each word written on it, while Y/N wrung on her fingers nervously, her eyes jumping from each object present in Carol’s room to distract herself, "really impressing Miss Y/L/N. You graduated with highest honors in Electronic and Computer engineering at Stanford. Top of every class. Oh top scorer in your soccer team, I see! Impressive. Very impressive. Have you and your team ever won something?"

"Yeah, we won 3 tournaments in a row."

"Wow, do you still play?"

"Sometimes. Not as much as I want to since all my teammates are still in California." Y/N shrugged, showing a nostalgic smile as she remembered all the good times she had with her teammates and friends.

"That’s sad. I always admired soccer, it’s a very interesting sport." Carol commented while taking a few more looks at Y/N’s resume, then moved on asking a few more questions to Y/N, a few personals, but most of them were about a few technical stuff and as the interview went on, Carol found herself surprisingly but also delightfully stunned at how wonderfully Y/N’s mind worked, "you are surely the best candidate I had interviewed today. So-." Carol stretched her serious, professional frown into a wide smile as she prepared to give Y/N good news, but got stopped mid-sentence by her phone on her desk ringing loudly, "excuse me for a moment." Carol smiled apologetically at Y/N, who nodded in understanding and tried to look around casually to not make it obvious she was listening to the call Carol just answered, "yes? No, I had been busy this morning with interviews for the job you told me about. Yeah. No but- what? But- okay fine. I’ll see you in a bit. Bye." Carol sighed out after ending the call and placed her phone back down on the desk, "well, this is unfortunate. I was actually gonna give you the job but sadly our engineer that was retiring isn’t retiring anymore since he has to finish a few projects before doing that."

"Oh, that’s- cool I guess." Y/N muttered sadly, feeling her heart falling into her stomach and her eyes stinging a bit with unshed tears, but she resolutely held them in, scratching her forehead instead to calm herself down.

"No but, wait. You are a great engineer and after this interview I would be a complete idiot not assuming you. But unfortunately we don’t have any vacant spots at the moment. For engineer positions at least." Carol’s sad expression morphed into a mischievous one, staring at Y/N as she lifted her right eyebrow up.

"I’m not following." Y/N spoke out uncertainly and looked at Carol confused, but the blonde was quick to explain further.

"The CEO of this company fired her last assistant just last night. She absolutely needs another one." Carol explained, hoping Y/N understood what she meant, but when Y/N kept staring at her with her eyebrows knitted in confusion, she continued, "what I’m trying to say is- I’m offering you a job as her new assistant. I know it’s not what you came here for, but it can pave you the way to a spot as an engineer here. You can still show your value as her assistant. Please, think about it. This company really needs you and your mind." Y/N thought over all the options she had. She came here this morning for a job here, but as an engineer. It was what she wanted. It was the reason she left her home in California and moved to New York, to start new in a new city. She needed a job. Especially because she was broke and needed to pay the rent. So any type of job, at least in the beginning, would suffice. It couldn’t be that bad being an assistant, right? The CEO’s assistant to be exact, so it will be a really important spot to an extent. And also, she had always been a well organized person, she could do that for someone else. Right? And it could lead her to the job she dreamed to have here. After a few more moments of weighing the pros and cons of this job offer, she stared at Carol resolutely.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Carol asked a bit perplexed, not exactly believing Y/N actually considered her offer, that quickly even.

"Yeah. I accept your offer."

"Wow, okay. Hm- this may sound maybe a bit too much but- can you start like- now?"

"What?"

"I know it’s fast. But our CEO needs an assistant as soon as possible. She tends to be pretty busy and she needs someone to help her out."

"Okay? Yeah, okay. Hm- do I need to know something about being an assistant?" Y/N asked uncertainly as she shrugged anxiously.

"Okay? Oh, that’s great! C’mon, I’ll take you to our CEO, then." Carol sat up from her chair and signaled Y/N do the same, opening the door for her and leading her down a big hallway that lead to the elevator. "To answer your question all you need is to be well organized to sort out our CEO’s agenda. Oh and a lot of patience. She tends to be a bit- hm- tough sometimes. But please hold on tight. We need you here." As Carol finished speaking, the loud ‘ding’ of the elevator ringed loudly to signal its arrival and the two girls filed in the elevator.

The ride was pretty quick since Carol’s office was 5 floors down the company’s CEO’s one, but it was filled with quick advices to be the CEO’s assistant here. "What do you mean with ‘she tends to be a bit tough’?" Y/N asked as they filed out of the elevator, keeping up a fast pace to an happy and giddy Carol.

"Nothing to worry about too much. She likes to annoy her assistants that much that they quit or she gives them a real reason to fire them- in like two days."

"What?!" Y/N asked bewildered, whipping her head around to stare at Carol in disbelief but it was too late, Carol was already knocking on the CEO’s door with a big, bright smile on her lips and a few moments later a quiet ‘come in’ reached the two girls’ ears, making Carol open the door swiftly.

"Hey boss, are you busy?"

"Just give me a second, I’m finishing this report." Y/N heard a deep, husky voice coming from behind a big computer and tried to take a look at the mysterious woman typing away on the keyboard and sighed out loudly when she didn’t succeed in her task as she was hid away behind her computer.

"It won’t take too long. I came here to tell you, you don’t need to find a new assistant anymore. I got you one."

The woman behind the big wooden desk stopped her frantic typing and finally came into view as she peeked her head to the side of her huge desktop, almost knocking the air out of Y/N’s lungs with her endless beauty, "I don’t need a new assistant. I already told you that."

"No, you need an assistant. We talked about this. So I nicely took over the interview part and found one. She is great for this job." Y/N gulped loudly when the woman’s ocean blue eyes focused on her and gave her a once over, scrutinizing her carefully, causing her to stay frozen on her spot, incapable of moving with those eyes on her.

"No." Kate finally said and moved back behind the computer, resuming her frantic typing on the keyboard.

"C’mon! Do it for me. I promise you she will be the best assistant you’ve ever had." Carol pushed as she stressed her words, "please."

"One week."

"Six months." Carol counter offered, lifting her right eyebrow up when Kate stopped typing and leaned over the computer to look at Carol unamused once again.

The blue eyed woman scoffed and shook her head, "two weeks."

"Four months."

"Three weeks."

"Three months." Carol counter offered again with a firm tone, pining the woman down with a resolute look and it seemed to work as a moment later the black haired girl slumped her taut shoulders and sighed out loud.

"Okay fine. If she quits before the month ends, I will not be held responsible."

"Oh please, you always are the reason why your assistants quit."

"It won’t happen." Y/N spoke for the first time since she entered the room, making two pair of eyes focus on her and she gulped again. Carol nodded at her proudly, while the black haired girl’s gaze stayed curious but held a bit of mischief that made Y/N shiver. "I won’t quit."

"We’ll see about that." The black haired woman stated in a low, raspy tone, that it totally didn’t make Y/N tremble, and seemed to think about something for a few seconds because her face almost lighted up like a Christmas tree before she spoke up again, "when can you start?"

"Now." Both Y/N and Carol spoke at the same time, making the CEO nod impressed. For a few moments silence fell in the room with Carol staring at the black haired woman almost in reprimand, while she looked at Y/N like she was the predator getting ready to jump on its prey, but it was short lived when Carol’s phone broke the silence ringing loudly.

"Sorry- I need to go." The blonde grimaced at Y/N after controlling the ID caller then stared Kate down with a warning glint in her eyes once more, "you-." Carol trailed off pointing at the black haired woman, who lifted her eyebrow up and smirked defiantly, "behave."

With that Carol bid the two girls goodbye and walked out of the room while answering her phone, the door closing behind her, "okay, Jenny. Since you decided to punish yourself and me with you being here and wanting to be my assistant-." The black haired girl resumed typing on the keyboard without looking at Y/N, "I want you to call Frank from the LarryCorp, Trevor from NanoTech, Gary from PML and Lauren from Logan Limited and invite them here to talk about our last product that needs to be introduced to the market. Then I want you to go the laundry and pick up the suit for a party I need to go on Thursday. Then you can order my lunch- chicken salad with no kale and tomatoes. Oh then you need to call Shuri here, I need to discuss with her regarding a few things about our prototype. Then you-." Kate stopped talking when she diverted her gaze for a moment on Y/N and found her wringing on her fingers in the middle of the room, looking like a deer in headlights, "I’m sorry, was I boring you with my schedule?"

"No- I just- I don’t have a notebook with me."

"Then fucking get one. Or type on your phone, or try to put your fucking brain to work. I don’t care. I hope you’ll remember everything I told you. I expect an update on every single thing I told you in 30 minutes."

Y/N tried to open her mouth to counter back wittingly but decided against it when the black haired girl resumed her typing and was clearly over with the conversation, so she turned around and walked towards the door but before exiting the CEO’s office, she turned towards the blue eyed girl and spoke up with annoyance clear in her tone, "it’s Y/N, by the way."

"I don’t care." Kate countered back quickly, still not looking at Y/N and keeping typing on her keyboard.

With that Y/N exited the room and after closing the door, she leaned her body on it and sighed out loudly, "what a fucking bitch."

"New recruit?" A red haired woman approached Y/N with an apologetic smile as she carried a stack of paperwork, looking at her with an apologetic grimace.

"Yeah, I am her new assistant." Y/N pointed with her thumb to the room behind her and shook her head softly with an humorless laugh.

"Kate can be a bit tough sometimes, but once she warms up to you, she is a sweetheart. Let’s just say she is not prone on warming up to her assistants." The redhead stated with a warm smile and a snort before signaling Y/N with a small tilt of her head to follow her, "I’m Wanda."

"Y/N, nice to meet you. Do you need a hand?"

"No, don’t worry, I just need to put them on my desk before delivering it to my boss." Wanda pointed to two doors down Kate’s one after placing the stack of papers on her desk and Y/N nodded in understanding.

"Hm- listen, I’m not usually someone that asks for help but- this is my first day here and I actually have never been an assistant in my life. Can you help me?"

"Of course! What did Kate asked you to do?"

"Hm, she said a lot of things- I didn’t have a notebook so I need to remember everything she said. Okay- hm- she said something about a laundry. I need to pick up her suit for a party on Thursday and she asked me to order her lunch. That’s what ai remember the most, then she said to call a bunch of people for a meeting for a new device, oh and she asked to call someone named Shirley- no- Sheila- no-hm-."

"Shuri."

"Yeah! That. Hm- I think that’s all."

"Okay, I can handle a few things since I have a little bit of free time. I will take care of her laundry and call those people. I know who she was talking about. Jane has that meeting on her agenda next week already. Here-." Wanda trailed off to write down something on a small piece of paper and gave it to Y/N. "This is her favorite restaurant’s number. Chicken salad, no kale and tomatoes, right?"

"Yeah, how do you-?"

"I’ve sometimes helped Kate when she didn’t have an assistant after making her quit."

"Oh, okay."

"Then, go to the 14th floor and ask Okoye for Shuri to send her up here."

"Noted. Thank you so much Wanda. I owe you big time."

"Ah, there’s no need." Wanda waved Y/N off like it was no big deal doing almost everything Kate asked her to in her stead while rounding her desk and sitting on her chair, already picking up the phone on the desk to make a call. "How much time do you have?"

"About 26 minutes."

"Alright, in 15 minutes you will be done with everything and will communicate it to her, just to impress Kate on your first day." Wanda winked before signaling her to move toward her desk to call the restaurant, Y/N immediately moving to the empty desk and picking up the phone.

-

"Hm, hi. I’m looking for-hm- Shuri."

"A new face." Okoye looked up from the paper she was reading and gazed up and down Y/N with a blank face.

"Yeah, I’m Miss Bishop’s new assistant."

"Oh, poor kid." Okoye looked at Y/N with sorrow on her features as she sat up from her chair and rounded the desk to pat Y/N’s shoulder gently, an apologetic frown never leaving her face, "how is it going?"

"It’s been 12 minutes and I already need a vacation."

Okoye laughed heartily and nodded, "oh, I bet. Anyway, are you looking for Shuri?"

"Yeah, Miss Bishop needs her in her office to talk about-."

"Our prototype." A voice behind Y/N stopped Y/N mid-sentence and caused the Y/H/C girl to turn around to look at who interrupted her. "Hi, I’m Shuri."

"Y/N, Miss Bishop’s new assistant."

"Oh, I’m so sorry." Shuri looked apologetically at Y/N before patting her shoulder like Okoye did, "anyway, let’s go before she gets mad."

-

"Jenny!" It was later that day and Y/N was typing a few things on her new desktop as she organized Kate’s messy agenda, the assistant that was here before her did such a poor job with it that every appointment was in the wrong place or misspelled, while Wanda was finishing printing a few paperwork for Jane. "Jenny!"

"Who’s Jenny?" Wanda asked after hearing Kate shouting that name again and looked at Y/N quizzically, who sported an annoyed look on her face while sighing loudly, already sitting up from her.

"Me. That’s how she registered my name."

Wanda placed her hand on her mouth to suppress a snort while Y/N rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her before opening the door to her boss’ office, "Jenny, how many times do I fucking need to call you before you come here?"

"If you call me by my real name, I will surely come faster." Y/N retorted wittingly, smiling too sweetly at the black haired girl, who looked up immediately at her from the papers she was reviewing, a withering glint shining in her ocean blue eyes.

"I would shove that attitude up your ass if I were you. Remember who is in charge." Kate countered back with a snaring tone and Y/N immediately nodded and lowered her gaze, clutching on her notepad and pen.

"I’m sorry."

"That’s better. I need a report from Clint. It’s in the drawer." Kate pointed to the drawer right beside her and Y/N looked at her bewildered. She swallowed the ‘you could’ve grabbed it yourself’ and obliged, sauntering towards Kate and opening the drawer. She found Clint’s folder and opened it, furrowing her eyebrows as she wondered what she was looking for, "are you looking for a solution to the cold fusion?"

"Hm- no?"

"Then why the fuck does it take you so long for that file?"

Y/N rolled her eyes inwardly and tried to answer without telling her boss to fuck off, "I don’t know what I’m looking for."

"The nano-robotic files from June."

Y/N nodded, although she knew Kate couldn’t see her as she was still focused on her papers, and quickly grabbed the files she asked for and gave them to her. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, that’s it." And with that Y/N walked out of the office, sitting down unceremoniously on her chair and sighing loudly as she rubbed her temples.

"You okay?" Y/N looked up to a girl, smiling apologetically at her before focusing on Wanda beside her looking at her with a small smile.

"Yeah, just- rough first day. I-I’m Y/N Y/L/N."

"Oh, you’re Kate’s new assistant. I’m so sorry."

"You guys here have been telling me this the whole day." Y/N snorted humorlessly and Wanda snorted under her breath.

"Because Kate is a sweetheart but just not with her assistants. I’m Jane by the way." The brunette offered her hand to Y/N and Y/N was quick to shake it, smiling warmly at her.

"My pleasure."

"Wan, honey, I need the reports we talked about in 10 minutes. Thank you. It was a pleasure Y/N and please, hold on tight. You seem nice and it would be great having you around."

"Thank you so much. If you ever need an extra hand, I will gladly help you."

"That’s lovely of you." And with a smile Jane moved to her office. Y/N waited until the door closed before turning to Wanda and looking at her pleadingly, "can we switch bosses?"

-

"Ugh, I need fucking vacation." Y/N slumped on her chair for the umpteenth time that day, fatigue from the day weighing on her shoulders.

"It’s only been two days, Y/N." Wanda countered back with a small giggle and sat on Y/N’s desk beside her.

"I don’t even want to imagine what a week with her will be. And to think I came here to be an engineer."

"What?"

"Oh- you see." Y/N laughed when Wanda stared at her in bewilderment, "yesterday I actually came here for the vacant spot Clint was leaving to retire." Wanda nodded as she followed Y/N’s words, "I almost got it, until someone told Carol he won’t retire until his last projects are done."

"Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry."

"It’s fine. Carol wanted me to work for this company, so she proposed to be Kate’s assistant until that electronic engineer spot is free again." Y/N shrugged and smiled at Wanda a bit uncertainly, the redhead looking at her apologetically.

"I’m so sorry Y/N. But look it on the bright side, that job is yours. You just need to hang tight as Kate’s assistant."

"Yeah, it’s a little bit easier said than done though." Wanda giggled at that and nodded, patting Y/N’s shoulder softly.

"I know. But hey- it’s Friday and we’re almost done. Wanna get a few drinks?"

Y/N looked at a hopeful Wanda and smiled brightly at her, "are you kidding? I will need more than a few drinks to forget about these past two days and to get myself ready for the next."

-

"Hm- hello?" Y/N fought sleep as she answered her phone and took a look at the alarm beside her showing 4:48 a.m. on it.

"JENNY?! WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING MY TEXTS?" Y/N grimaced as she pulled her phone away from her ear at Kate’s screeching tone, hearing faint EDM music in the background.

"Because it’s the middle of the night?!" Y/N couldn’t help but answer with a bit of a bitchy tone, but her sleepy mind was still trying to function properly.

"Then fucking get up and get a car to get me." And with that Kate hung up and Y/N slumped back on her pillow with a grunt.

"Bitch."

-

"Jenny!" Jane got interrupted in the middle of her retelling of their last online meeting with a few Spanish companies and Y/N sighed as she sat up from her chair.

"Who is Jenny?"

"That’s me." Y/N smiled sarcastically at Jane and watched as she suppressed a snort as she grabbed her notepad and pen, "I’m sorry. I’ll be right back."

"Jenny!" Y/N grimace at Kate’s loud scream as she opened her door and closed it right after, "does your brain have a problem communicating with your feet? Why does it take you so long to come in here when I call you."

"I-hm-." Y/N cleared her throat to swallow the witty remark and continued, "Jane was telling me about your last meeting."

Kate looked up from her phone and stayed in silence for a moment before speaking up, "I need Steve here, call him. Then you need to grab my purp-."

"Purple suit. Done. It’s already in your apartment." Kate looked at Y/N and tried to hide her impressed expression as she scrutinized her.

"Order me lunch."

"Chicken salad with no kale and tomatoes. Coming right up." Y/N was quick to continue and Kate nodded at her, but her face was still blank.

"Okay, that’s it."

Y/N nodded at Kate and smiled when she turned around and exited the office, unaware of Kate’s curious and impressed stare.

-

"I must say, I’m impressed, Jenny. You survived your first week here without hitches."

"Miss Bishop, it’s been a week. Can you please call me by my real name? It’s Y/N."

"You don’t like Jenny?" Kate asked with a wide, teasing grin on her lips, clearly messing up with Y/N. "Jenny is a great name."

"It surely is, but it’s not my name. My name is Y/N."

Silence fell down around the two girls in the big office, Kate staring up at Y/N with a blank face before a devilish grin cracked it, "alright, Jenny. I- okay, jeez. There’s no need to look at me like that! Y/N, better?" Kate rolled her eyes good-naturedly at the Y/H/C girl staring at her annoyed and lifted her arms up in surrender, a ghost of a smile adorning her lips.

"Yeah." Y/N’s annoyed look got quickly replaced with a wide grin and nodded happily at the black haired girl.

"Anyway, I called you here because I need you to go to Natasha downstairs and ask her for our cloaking device and take it to my house, with all the reports, as soon as she finishes revising it."

"Okay, do not forget you have a brunch with your mother tomorrow, at 11 a.m." Y/N was quick to remember Kate as she looked at her agenda, causing Kate to nod as she probably tried to stash that information in her mind to remember it.

"Okay, thank you."

Y/N exited Kate’s office with a wide grin that didn’t go unnoticed by Wanda, who stared at her quizzically with her eyes narrowed, "why so smiley after coming out of Kate’s office? It’s a first for an assistant."

"She called me by my real name."

"No Jenny?"

"No!" Y/N exclaimed enthusiastically, opening her arms and smiling in disbelief at Wanda as she made her way towards her sat behind her desk. "Well I technically asked her to, but she did!"

"Good, that means she is warming up to you. You can be her first assistant staying here for more than 9 days."

"I didn’t know I was here to break records." Y/N joked, making the redhead laugh heartily at her, before shaking her head to focus, "anyway, I’m going downstairs."

"Okay, do you need help to know which floor you need to go to?"

"Hm, yeah actually. She mentioned someone new. Natasha, I think. She needs a cloaking device she is working on."

"N-Natasha?" Wanda asked with wide eyes as her cheeks immediately tinted with red, a reaction that go unnoticed by the Y/H/C girl.

"Yeah."

"Oh, well, do you want me to accompany you? I mean you had never been to 16th floor."

"That would be great! Are you busy now?" Y/N exclaimed excitedly, not picking up on Wanda’s weird behavior.

"No! I mean, hm- no, I’m almost finished anyway." Wanda stated casually after sprinting up her chair and fixing her dress, but Y/N didn’t pay too much attention on her, as she walked towards her desk, grabbed her notebook and pen and joined Wanda again in front of her desk.

"Great!"

The ride to the 16th floor was quick with Wanda fluffing her hair and checking her makeup in the mirror, while Y/N took another look at Kate’s agenda. The elevator dinged and the two exited it to walk into the electronic and nano-tech labs, Wanda guiding them to where Natasha was, finding her hunched over a device on her desk, a mess with electronic parts, papers and a few tools scattered all over it.

"Wanda Maximoff. To whom do I owe my gratitude to have you here down here?" Natasha looked up from the device as soon as she heard footsteps approaching her and smiled charmingly at the redhead, something that piqued Y/N’s interest. Y/N smiled inwardly when she looked at Wanda and found her blushing as she smiled giddily at the other redhead.

"Hm, Y/N here needs you."

"Fresh meat. Hi, I’m Natasha." Y/N took the redhead’s hand and shook it with a polite grin.

"I’m Y/N, Miss Bishop’s new assistant."

"Oh you are the girl that survived for 7 days straight. Impressive."

"Yeah, I’m aiming at breaking the 9 days straight record as her assistant." Y/N joked and Natasha laughed heartily at that.

"You’re funny. I like it. I will threaten Kate to punch her in the face if she ever fires you." Natasha smirked at Y/N and resumed her work on the device after telling the girls to sit in front of her.

"Carol already told her to give me a chance for three months, so she technically forbidden her to fire me during that time." Y/N explained and Natasha nodded happily.

"That’s great." Natasha giggled and grabbed a paper on the desk, reading it before nodding and continuing with her work, "so tell me, Y/N, how is working for Kate?"

"A great challenge to be honest. She demands and expects a lot, but I think I can handle her."

"Hm, you would be the first." Natasha joked as she focused her attention on the device she was finishing fixing, while Y/N stared at her working curiously, her hands hitching to help her out but she resisted.

"Yeah well, Wanda had helped me a lot during this week. I owe her a lot."

"Oh please, I didn’t do anything special. I was happy to help." Wanda waved Y/N off with her right hand before laid her chin on her closed fists as she perched on the table to look at Natasha working. Y/N could swear she saw her eyes become heart-shaped eyes as she stared lovingly at her, that thought made her laugh inwardly.

After sharing a few more chats, Natasha lifted her eyes up from the device, focusing her attention on Y/N before looking at Wanda with a knowing glint in her blue eyes, "since it’s Friday, we need to celebrate Y/N surviving as Kate’s assistant for a week."

"Oh I really want to, but I need to go as soon as you’re done and take this device to Kate’s place."

"So what? You will join us after. We will celebrate at Cerbero. It’s a great night club, first round of drinks on me. C’mon!"

Y/N felt like it was impossible to say no to Wanda and Natasha when they stared pointedly at her and pouting, so with an entertained snort and a small shake of her head, she caved in, "alright."

"Yay!" Wanda cheered loudly as she clapped her hands before high-fiving Natasha, who sported the same wide grin as her.

-

Y/N arrived at Kate’s apartment about an hour later, balancing the device in the box on her left hip as she fumbled with the keys Kate gave her, sighing out in victory when she finally slotted the key in the lock and opened the blue eyed girl’s door. After taking the key out and balancing the box back in her hands, she entered the apartment and almost dropped the device on the floor when she was met with the sight of Kate’s face buried between some girl’s legs, both stark naked on the couch. "Oh shit." The girl murmured traumatized, trying to communicate with her feet to fucking move but her brain short-circuited and made her stand froze on her spot.

"Ah! Who are you?!" The blonde girl screamed in fright as she tried to cover herself as much as she could with her hands, but she was clearly not doing a good job. That caught Kate’s attention, who detached her mouth from the girl’s vagina and looked at the intruder, her blue eyes recognized her an instant later. Y/N really wanted to look away, but she couldn’t help but notice the black haired girl’s chin was glistening. She really hoped she had her hands free to cover her eyes, to not endure witnessing this embarrassing moment for one more second, but she sadly couldn’t.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"I-I- the d-device you a-asked." Y/N cursed herself under her breath for stuttering but Kate didn’t seem to mind, as she lifted her hand from the girl’s thigh and pointed mindlessly towards her kitchen table.

"Great. Now go." After speaking, Kate didn’t wait for Y/N to exit her apartment and immediately focused her attention back on the girl spread on her couch, diving her face right back between her legs. When the blonde moaned Kate’s name loudly, Y/N’s brain finally kickstarted and made her move quickly, leaving the device on the table and flying out of Kate’s apartment.

-

"Oh my god! This is priceless. Did you really walked in on Kate fucking a girl on her couch?" Natasha asked in entertained disbelief and laughed loudly, wiping a few tears that escaped, when Y/N nodded with a grimace, Wanda doing the exact same.

"It was awful. Ugh." Y/N stated before tilting her head back and chugging a shot to try to erase those images from her brain.

"I wish I was there to see your reaction." Natasha laughed loudly again and this time leaned her body on Wanda for stability, making the other girl stop laughing and blush wildly. The other redhead didn’t pay attention to it, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, who took advantage of Natasha having her eyes closed to lift her right eyebrow up curiously at Wanda as she took a sip of her drink. Wanda’s blush deepened and that was all Y/N needed to know. She took a mental note to talk to her about it soon. "Another round?"

-

"Hey, how was your weekend?" Y/N asked when she heard footsteps approaching her, smiling sweetly at Wanda as she walked towards her, who did the same.

"Pretty good, how about yours?" Wanda asked after placing her coat on the rack and went to sit on her desk, while Y/N sat up from her chair and approached her, crossing her arms and leaning her left hip on the desk to come face to face with Wanda.

"Normal. I slept most of the time. A week here and I’m barely keeping my eyes open from how much tired I am." Y/N joked and Wanda giggled softly at her words, "now, let’s talk about the most important thing I wanted to discuss. When were you gonna tell me you have a crush on Natasha?"

"Shhhh! I don’t have a crush on her." Wanda shushed Y/N hastily before looking around her to make sure no one heard them.

"Oh yes, you do." Y/N smirked widely at Wanda, who sported a red hue on her cheeks and quickly sat up from her desk to run away from her, goin to sit on her own chair and have the desk to separate them, but it only made Y/N ten times happier as she grinned widely. "So-." Y/N started, bending slightly to lean over Wanda’s desk on her elbows and placing her head on her closed fists, making her cheeks puff a bit, "when are you gonna tell her?"

Wanda scoffed while looking at Y/N like she just went crazy, "never."

"Why?! She likes you too! Trust me, I’m good with these things."

"Hm no, you’re not?! Listen Y/N, I like our friendship, we became fast friends and you may know me that much to tell I have a crush on Natasha-."

"A-HA!" Y/N interrupted Wanda and pointed her index finger at her with a bright smile, making Wanda roll her eyes good-naturedly and emit an exasperated sigh at Y/N’s behavior but a smile stretched over her face too.

"As I was saying, you may know me, but you met Natasha just Friday and we only spent a few hours together. You don’t know her."

"Maybe, but I like to observe. That much to know that she has a habit to bit her bottom lip when she is focused on a task, or that she likes to communicate with her eyes when the object of the conversation is obvious, or that she has a smile that she reserves only for you every time you’re around. I may not know her, but my point of view, completely out of any dynamic, is the truest one you can ever get. Hell- you can even ask it to Miss Bishop, I’m sure she knows that too."

"Ask me what?" At that both girls focused on the voice coming from behind Y/N, Wanda peeking from Y/N’s left shoulder while Y/N turned only her head around to look who was behind her. Only when Y/N realized it was her boss behind her and she was literally bend over in front of her giving her a view of her ass in her black, tight jeans, Y/N widened her eyes comically and straightened her body up to a more appropriate position for a work place.

"Nothing." Y/N and Wanda spoke at the same time, sporting an embarrassed smile as both tried to avoid Kate’s scrutinizing look.

"Okay, well- Y/N, I need you in my office in 10 minutes, I have a meeting in an hour and I need every paper you can find on Tess Nicholson."

"Yeah, sure." With a nod, Kate flew into her office and closed the door behind her, making both girls relax their shoulders and let out the breath they were both holding.

"Do you think she remember I literally walked in on her fucking someone on her couch a few days ago?"

"I don’t know. Maybe she is avoiding the subject to save both of you from a deep embarrassment."

"Hm, I hope you’re right."

-

"Perfect, this is perfect! Thank you Y/N, I have everything I need to make our new possible associate join our forces."

"Do you need anything else?" Y/N tried to contain her smile from the praising words Kate just used for her even if her attention was laser focused on the papers in front of her, but she was pretty sure Kate could detect her happiness and pride in her voice.

"No, thank you. You can go." Y/N nodded and made her way towards the door, but when her hand touched the door handle, Kate’s voice stopped her in her tracks, "actually, Y/N, about Friday night-."

Y/N almost fainted as those words reached her ears and carefully turned around to face Kate again, getting ready for Kate yelling at her for not knocking or invading her privacy, "I’m so-."

But what she imagined never came, as Kate ignored her and continued, "call Shuri up into my office. There’s a problem with the prototype."

Y/N let go of the breath she didn’t know she was holding and nodded tentatively, forcing her body to find the voice she was sure she lost to feebly speak to Kate, "yeah, s-sure."

-

"How the fuck is possible that this fucking thing isn’t fucking working?! We had been working on it for over a year to fix every flaw! But every time we switch it on, 7 seconds pass and the device shuts off from overheating!" Kate stressed in frustration, walking up and down her office as she massaged her temples.

"I don’t know Kate, I run every test possible, I made so many changes but the result is always the same." Shuri explained exasperated, stressed just as Kate on something they had been working on for so long. Y/N then took a look at everyone else present in the room, as a small briefing with Shuri became an emergency meeting with a few of her best engineers to find the flaw in their new device, and found the same expression on their faces, making her furrow her eyebrows apologetically.

"It’s actually the first time it worked this long. Last month’s test resulted in the device working for only 5 seconds before shutting off." Carol chimed in the conversation, done staying quiet while staring thoughtfully at the device on Kate’s desk.

"I controlled every single electronic part in the device on Friday before Y/N delivered it at your house, Kate. Nothing it’s wrong with it." Natasha stated calmly while massaging her temples too to calm her nerves down.

"Then why the fucks is this thing not working?!" Kate repeated the question and looked at every single person present in her office in the eyes but everyone avoided her gaze as they all focused on the device, almost like they hoped it could magically work if they stared at it hard enough.

"We don’t know, Kate. Maybe I can run some more tests." Jane suggested with a calming tone as she approached Kate, trying to make her relax just a bit by gently touching her shoulder and looking at Carol, standing on Y/N’s right, for help. Y/N looked at Wanda as she finished writing down the last few things said just like Y/N was doing, writing down everything that could be helpful later on, before staring at Kate walking back and forth in distress when she moved away from Jane and sighed out softly.

"I did them just an hour ago. Our system tells nothing’s wrong, but something’s clearly wrong or this fucking thing would fucking work!" Kate exclaimed with an hard, angry voice, sighing out loud to get rid of some tension.

"Hm- have you tried to switch to active cooling system to passive cooling system?" Y/N spoke up when no one talked for over a minute, everyone closed up in their minds as they thought over for a solution, and almost regretted talking when every pair of eyes in the room fell on her.

"What?" Shuri was the first to talk, a curious glint shining in her eyes as she focused all her attention on Y/N, her mind already working on Y/N’s solution.

"Passive cooling system. It’s-hm-."

"Hm, excuse me Y/N, did you major in electronic engineering in the past five minutes? Everyone here is the best in their field and an assistant wants to take their place?" Kate asked angrily, looking like she was ready to loose it.

"I-hm-." Y/N went to answer but the fiery look in Kate’s eyes stopped her in her tracks and swallowed anything she was about to say, looking down at her feet as she wrung her fingers nervously.

"She actually is Kate." Carol butted in right after, placing a comforting hand on Y/N’s right shoulder and caressing it softly, sending a small, encouraging smile at her, that Y/N feebly mirrored as she gazed quickly in eyes before focusing back on her shoes.

"She is what?"

"An electronic engineer."

"Are you fucking with me? Because this is not the time." Kate grunted out unamused and caressed her temples again.

"No, she came here 10 days ago for a job interview for Clint’s place but Clint is not retiring anytime soon so we don’t have any place as an electronic engineer to offer to her right now. I couldn’t let her go to any other company, so I offered her to be your assistant. She is truly amazing. Let’s listen to what she was saying. Please. It could work."

Kate stayed quiet for a few moments, thinking over everything that has been said and without adding anything else, she just gestured Y/N to go on with her idea with a wave of her hand, "hm, as I was saying-." Y/N cleared her throat to subdue her anxiety under Kate’s and everyone else’s scrutinizing gaze, "I couldn’t help but notice that you are using an active cooling system to cool down the device from overheating, but it’s clearly not working. The energy you’re using to cool down the electronic parts it’s not cooling down the components but it’s actually just heating them more. And the computer systems tell you nothing it’s wrong because it technically isn’t, it just needs another cooling system. So I suggest to switch to passive cooling system to bypass the overheating problem."

"Passive cooling system?" Kate asked only, her curiosity piqued by Y/N’s idea, just like everyone else’s in the room.

"Yes. With passive cooling system we can use natural conduction, convection and radiation to cool the components down. It will work. I fixed many similar problems with it."

"Yeah- oh, yeah. It could work!" Shuri thought over Y/N’s words as she stared at the device on Kate’s desk before nodding enthusiastically at her. "Nat, what do you say?"

"That we need her help in the lab. Can we borrow her for a while?" Natasha directed the question to Kate, who was still staring at Y/N with a mix of shock and confusion, but also something that resembled pride? Y/N was not so sure.

"Yeah. But when you’re done- Y/N I need to speak to you." Kate stated with a low tone as she stared pointedly at Y/N, who nodded unsure and a bit worried and walked out of her boss’ office with Carol, Natasha, Jane and Shuri, Wanda following them.

-

"Come in." Y/N entered Kate’s office at hearing her boss’ validation to go in and tentatively walked into the room, wringing her hands nervously after she closed the door and turned around to face Kate.

"Hm- the device works, we run a-."

"I know. Shuri just called me." Kate interrupted Y/N with her eyes still glued on her desktop’s screen but when her eyes moved onto her a moment later, Y/N almost fainted from anxiety. "Why didn’t you tell me about you?"

"Because it wasn’t important. Not now at least."

"What do you mean?" Kate sat up from her desk and rounded it, making Y/N almost flinch in fright, but stayed put and watched Kate lean over her desk with her butt as she crossed her arms and stared at her curiously. Despite the serious, heavy air surrounding them, Y/N couldn’t help but think how extremely hot Kate looked in that moment, with her well-fitted, tailored grey suit hugging her curves, her hair flowing down her shoulders in natural waves, her light makeup highlighting her blue eyes and her bossy pose. It made Y/N’s head spin with so many gay feelings but she couldn’t focus on them too much right now since they weren’t exactly appropriated because Kate was her boss and because that said boss was now right in front of her, with an angry expression that told Y/N she was about to be lectured.

"Like Carol said, she made an offer for me. Working as your assistant until I can get a job here as an engineer. So that’s what I am for now, your assistant."

"Oh wow." Kate exclaimed, closing her mouth right after, mulling over Y/N’s words. "Are you really putting aside your degree just to wait for that spot as an electronic engineer here?" Y/N nodded softly, expressing how much this job means to her through her eyes hoping Kate would catch it. Luckily, she did. "Wow, that’s- dedication."

"I needed a job. Yeah it may not be my dream job for now, but it will be. Any type of job, for now, will do. I moved from California after graduating. To start over." It was Kate that nodded this time, understanding where Y/N was coming from, "besides, being your assistant it’s not that terrible or hellish like everyone told me about." Y/N cracked a joke to light up the heavy air that suddenly fell over them with a small shrug and she succeeded, making Kate snort under her breath while shaking her head.

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone here said to me, and I quote, ‘I’m so sorry’ every time I tell them I’m working as your new assistant." Kate snorted at that and nodded, knowing her friends and employees were just messing with her, "oh, and one of your ex assistants, the first one I assume, apparently left a journal in one of the desk’s drawers to vent over you and your, and I quote again, ‘narcissistic and completely dumb requests’. It seems it became pretty important to leave comments for every assistant that came after."

"Wow, really? Can I read it?" Kate asked with a mix of bewilderment and amusement swimming on her features, making Y/N snicker gently under her breath but she nodded nonetheless.

"Yeah, I’ll give it to you as soon as I finish reading it. It’s like a novel. I’m hooked." Y/N admitted with dreamy eyes and a wide smile, "do you know Kyla-."

"Who?"

Y/N rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Kate’s question, hearing her snort under her breath at her own words, before continuing, "anyway, she almost spit in your coffee three times just because you called her Koala?"

"Oh my god! Now I remember!" Kate laughed heartily as she clapped her hands, "yeah, I enjoyed calling her that just to see the vein on her forehead pop." Kate made a gesture with her hand in front of her face to stress the word ‘pop’ more before laughing alongside Y/N. Due to the giddy air now surrounding them Y/N didn’t exactly ponder on her next words, but she spoke up anyway.

"I also have a theory- that I need to verify once I’m done readying the journal- that there is something that each one of your assistants shared."

"And what is that? The hatred they had for me?"

"No, besides that- they actually- hm- all wanted to fuck you apparently." Y/N stated quickly, shrugging nonchalantly, causing Kate to almost fall off her leaning position on her desk with a loud laugh.

"What?! That’s not true! You’re messing with me."

"I’m being actually honest. Okay, wait here!" Y/N sprinted out of Kate’s office, approached her desk, opened the second drawer and retrieved the journal, smiling at Wanda looking at her quizzically in the process, before closing the drawer and returning to Kate’s office. "Take a look yourself." Y/N approached Kate still leaning on the desk and mirrored her as she sat beside her, while flipping through the journal’s pages to find a few spicy words Kate’s ex assistants wrote about her. "Ah, here it is. Okay, Barb said ‘that fucking bitch had the audacity to ask me to order her a salad and count if there are 115 lettuce leaves in it. But fuck, you can do anything she asks you to with that pretty face. Let’s not talk about that ass. Oh that ass, I daydream about touching that ass every time I have the chance to look at it.’ I laughed so hard reading it. Did you really ask her to count your lettuce leaves in your salad?" Y/N cackled loudly after reading the piece on the page she already read and turned around to look at Kate incredulously.

"Yeah, I thought it was fun." Kate laughed alongside Y/N and tried to conceal her blush tinting her cheeks at the words Y/N just read. "Go on, I want to know more."

"Okay, let me just-." Y/N flipped a few pages over, finding another interesting piece to read, "Johanna said ‘Kate oddly didn’t ask anything weird today so I had a lot of time to admire her amazing arms in her blouse. I would give anything to rip it off of her and see what else she has to offer.’"

"Oh my god, they were feisty." Kate commented as Y/N kept flipping over pages in focus, moving to the ones she hadn’t read yet.

"Hm-hm, but not as much as Violet, who wrote ‘can someone be so annoying but so fucking hot at the same time? She makes me go crazy. She always finds something wrong with what I do, but I would gladly let her bend me over her desk and fuck me hard as she lectures me." Y/N read out loud, finding herself blushing after finishing reading not only because she was reading those things that were directed to Kate right to Kate, but also because her brain decided to play with her and played that image over and over. And to make everything worse (or better?) she imagined herself bent over by Kate on her desk as she pound-.

"Oh shit, did she really wrote that?"

Y/N got pulled out of her daydreaming by Kate’s voice as she leaned over to take a better look at what was written on the journal’s page Y/N was reading, "y-yeah and apparently she was the last assistant you had because after this there is nothing more to read."

"Hm, good to know. Are you gonna write something down too? Vent about my rude ways or for calling you Jenny for a week?"

Y/N snorted at Kate’s question but shook her head softly, "nah, believe it or not, I actually enjoyed working for you these past weeks."

"Really?" Kate asked incredulously, turning her head around to look at Y/N better. "You would be the first then."

"Yeah." Y/N nodded with a gentle smile, "I have to admit I called you a bitch the first day we met and a few days later when you called me in the middle of the night, but I stopped then. I took it as a challenge to satisfy your every request."

"And what about the other comments? Are you gonna lust over me too?" Kate asked tentatively with a low, teasing tone, staring into Y/N’s beautiful Y/E/C eyes and waiting for her answer.

"Oh no." Y/N was quick to deny, maybe too quick for Y/N’s likings and snorted for good measure. "And besides, you can’t ask that!"

"Why not?"

"Because it’s-." Y/N trailed off to think something over, looking at Kate as she stared at her smugly, "totally unprofessional of you, of me."

"Oh, yeah right." Kate concedes in a sarcastic tone, a small grin appearing on her lips, "since you’re not gonna jump on my bones anytime soon like my other assistants, why don’t you go order my lunch? Oh and do not forget to call that catering company for my party at my house on Friday night."

"I already did."

"Oh that’s great, then call-."

"I covered the alcoholic beverages too. I ordered great amount of alcohol to make it, and I quote yourself, ‘flowing and flowing’."

"Hm, only two weeks here and you surprised me more times I can remember." Kate nodded in approval, her eyes doing a once over at Y/N as a proud smile rolled on her lips.

"I like being organized. Oh, this reminds me-." Y/N opened her notebook and flipped a few pages over to find the note she needed to comunicate to Kate, "someone named Sam called two times today asking to talk to you, she refused to tell me who she was or who she worked with. She insisted a lot on making you answer her calls."

"Oh shit, I promised to call her after our night on Thursday!" Kate sighed and caressed her temples gently, "okay tell her I’m working late."

"And if she calls again?"

"Tell her I’m working late again. I need to get rid of her."

"I don’t know if you’ve ever dumped someone Miss Bishop, but I think this lie will definitely not get rid of her."

Kate sighed at the sarcastic tone Y/N used and caressed her temples in thoughts, "it usually works, smarty pants. They just stop trying at the fourth attempt."

"O-kay." Y/N agreed skeptically but nodded nonetheless at her boss, "I will tell her that. Anything else?"

"No, just my lunch."

"On its way, boss!" Y/N announced on her way out of the door with her thumb up, a dorky gesture that made Kate snort in amusement with a fond shook of her head, totally ignoring the affection she already started feeling for her new assistant, something that had never happened before, as she took a seat at her desk again.

-

"An electronic engineer, an assistant and now a party planner. Is there something you can’t do, Y/N?" Wanda commented with a mix of bewilderment and amusement as soon as she entered Kate’s apartment with Y/N and Natasha following, causing Y/N to smile shyly at the comment.

"Damn, Y/L/N. This looks amazing." Natasha admitted in a dazed expression, her blue eyes sweeping all over the place in awe.

"Thank you, I spent two entire days planning all of this. Kate only told me about this party Tuesday morning. I had to plan everything in a very short amount of time."

"And you did amazing." Kate appeared out of nowhere, making the three girls jump up in fright, but Kate smiled at them as she approached the trio, "and for the record, I purposefully told you about this party that late."

"What?!" Y/N asked in disbelief, anger shining behind her eyes as she send a withering glare at Kate.

"I wanted to see how you worked under pressure." Kate shrugged nonchalantly as she took a sip of her drink covering her smug smirk with the rim of the glass in her hand.

"Oh great." Y/N lifted her arms up dejectedly and sighed, making Kate tap on her shoulder gently.

"You did good, you should be proud of yourself."

"Oh so I should thank you now?" Y/N asked sarcastically, smiling amusedly at Kate, and the blue eyed girl mirrored her with a challenging look.

"Wan let’s go, or we will witness them fucking in front of us." Natasha murmured in Wanda’s left ear and grabbed her hand to pull her away from the duo still bickering to walk towards the counter where the open bar was.

"What? Do you think-?" Wanda asked, trailing off and not finishing her question as she pointed with her thumb behind her back to Y/N and Kate still discussing and gasped softly.

"Yeah. They may not realize it yet, but I can see they lust over each other." Natasha explained to Wanda with a wide smirk, sitting down on a bar stool as Wanda walked around the counter. "So, how is an innocent, sweet girl like you, serving at this party full of snotty people?" Natasha changed subject quickly and leaned on the counter with her elbows and lifted her right eyebrow up seductively, eyeing Wanda like she was a predator ready to jump on its prey, speaking after a few moments of silence spent watching Wanda grab a few bottles to make cocktails for them.

Wanda blushed furiously when she made the mistake of meeting Natasha’s gaze and almost dropped the bottle of vodka she was using to mix it with a few more ingredients with the intensity of her stare. "I needed a job, rich people leave good tips when they are drunk."

"Hm, and did ever someone insisted too much on particular topics while too drunk?"

Wanda kept playing along Natasha’s charade, taking some time to squeeze half a lemon into the mixer before answering Natasha, "yes, but I can look after myself."

"Oh I do not doubt that. But you can’t be here, all alone. Someone needs to protect you." Natasha stated nonchalantly, shrugging when Wanda lifted her gaze up from the mixer to stare at Natasha unamused, "pretty girls needs to have their knight in shining armor."

"Oh yeah? Would that be you? Are you offering?" Wanda purposefully ignored the ‘pretty girls’ part, not wanting to get her hopes up when Natasha was just playing around to kill time at the party, so she moved on with their banter with an amused grin.

"Yes, of course."

Wanda’s small smile widened just a bit as she thought over her next question, "and where is your shining armor?"

"Oh I took it to the dry cleaner’s." Natasha made up an excuse nonchalantly, cracking Wanda’s almost serious face as she laughed heartily at that.

"Yeah, being clean is a really important thing. I love when the pretty girls I serve are clean." Wanda for once decided to be bold and delivered her line to Natasha as she mixed their drinks.

Natasha swallowed imperceptibly at the words Wanda used, feeling her brain literally melt and short-circuit for a moment, but pretended to act cool as she grabbed the drink Wanda offered to her with a seductive look, "thank you."

"So tell me, my brave knight, are you gonna make sure no one poisoned alcohol?" Wanda kept joking as she fidgeted with the small straw in her glass, mustering the most seductive look she had ever used and bit on her bottom lip teasingly. If Natasha wanted to play dirty with her, she was capable of doing just the same.

At that, Natasha straightened her back slightly as she saw a big opportunity. She could make the final move and explicitly hit on Wanda, hoping she would finally notice she had a crush on her, "oh yeah right, hold on." The younger redhead watched with rapt attention as Natasha wrapped her lips around the small straw and took a small sip from her glass, humming at the delicious and balanced taste Wanda created for their drinks, before licking her lips clean. Wanda watched everything unfold in front of her like it was all in slow motion, her breath getting shallower as her mouth dried up and her eyes darkened. "Nope, no poison in here."

"Okay then-."

"Ah-ah, I need to check yours too." Natasha stopped Wanda mid-sentence and without hesitation, sat slightly up from her stool to lean over the counter, giving a great view of her half exposed boobs to Wanda through the really deep neckline of her dress, before wrapping her lips around Wanda’s straw too with her drink still in her hand, and taking a small sip, never breaking their eye-contact as their faces were really close. Wanda felt like she could explode at any moment as lust pumped fast into her veins, Natasha’s green eyes feeling like they were swallowing her in and she was willing to make them do that. Wanda’s breath hitched imperceptibly when Natasha lifted up a bit to be at eye-level with her, purposefully leaning closer to the young redhead to tease her some more, making their breaths mingling as their noses almost touched but she didn’t close the gap. She wanted Wanda to want that too. "All clear."

"I-I-." Wanda licked her dry lips and swallowed the lump that formed in her throat as she tried to collect her thoughts and to form at least a coherent phrase, but it became a really difficult task with the redhead so close to her. "I- I need to go to the bathroom."

And with that Wanda excused herself and flew into the bathroom, running on wobbly legs and with her heart aching, leaving Natasha hanging there. She knew she was acting stupid but she needed some time to collect her thoughts over what just happened in the past few minutes. "You’re an idiot."

Wanda turned around with a small shriek when she felt a voice ring right beside her, making her open her eyes at the person on her left, "what are you doing here?"

"I saw what happened there. She was flirting with you and you ran away from her?!"

"She wasn’t flirting with me, she was just joking around." Wanda shook her head in denial and closed her eyes to calm her nerves and heartbeat down by laying her hands on the sink, the cold ceramic soothing her slightly, while Y/N scoffed under her breath.

"Wan, I love you but you are fucking stupid." Y/N stated gently, eyeing Wanda with a mix of affection and exasperation, "she was flirting with you. Trust me, I’ve done plenty of that. I can recognize when someone is flirting and Wan, she was."

"I-I-." Wanda sighed out loud before covering her face with her hands, her mind still wrapping around this new piece of information she subconsciously already knew but she wasn’t ready to admit to herself.

"Why did you run away?" Y/N asked softly, approaching the redhead and placing her hand on her shoulder.

"I- I can’t lose her, Y/N/N. She means the world to me and her rejecting me and pushing me away after I tell her how I feel it’s something I don’t want to experience."

"But she won’t reject you Wan! She was just flirting with you! She literally eye-fucked you as she drank from your glass. Listen- I know it’s scary, but if you don’t make a move you won’t know if she feels the same."

"I don’t want to risk our friendship, Y/N/N." Wanda reasoned, sighing out loud in distress as she detached her eyes from Y/N to look at herself in the mirror in front of her, finding dread in her features.

"Natasha won’t ever walk away from you if she doesn’t feel the same. You know that." Y/N tried to reassure Wanda with the softest tone she could muster, looking at her through the mirror and smiling encouragingly at her.

Wanda smiled back gently and nodded solemnly, "I appreciate what you’re doing Y/N/N, thank you for cheering me up."

Y/N let out a soft breath while nodding in understanding. Wanda wasn’t going to relent that easily and she won’t push her to do something she wasn’t ready to do yet, so she just moved on another topic to ease Wanda up, "don’t mention it, I will always be here for you, Wan."

The redhead turned towards the Y/E/C girl and hugged her hard, showing all the gratitude she felt for her and what she did tonight, "do not tell Clint, but you’re becoming my favorite."

Y/N snorted at Wanda’s words before pulling away from the hug and nodding at the girl, "noted."

-

"Miss Bishop, can I talk to you for a second?" About an hour later her interaction with Wanda in the bathroom, Y/N watched as Natasha gravitated back to Wanda and pretended like the girl didn’t just walked away from her flirting as she initiated a conversation with her and the Y/H/C girl decided to jump into action.

"Yeah, what’s up? And please call me Kate, Miss Bishop makes me feel old." Kate asked after excusing herself from her previous conversation with a few of her employees, nodding at Y/N in anticipation before following her to a more quiet part of her apartment to talk.

"Okay- hm, Kate- hm, do you want to join me on a mission?" Y/N whispered conspiratorially after moving closer to Kate, making the girl furrow her eyebrows and look at her confused. Despite it felt weird at first, Y/N had to admit it was amazing calling her boss by her first name and not by her last name.

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you see those two idiots in love right there?" Y/N pointed to Wanda laughing care-freely at something Natasha said before staring at Kate as she looked at them and realization hit her.

"Wanda and Natasha? Are they-?"

"Yeah, look at them." Y/N gave Kate about a minute to let her observe the two girls interact, her blue eyes scrutinizing every movement to detect everything that could make her believe Y/N‘s words.

"Oh shit, you’re right!" Kate spoke up in disbelief after she watched Natasha flirt shamelessly with Wanda, "Natasha is flirting with Wanda."

"Yeah, she jumped right at it again, I see. You missed the great show that was Natasha trying to seduce Wanda by taking a sip of Wanda’s drink from her straw."

"Oh wow, Romanoff is bold. And why are they still here? I thought they would be already on their way home, y’know." Y/N snorted at Kate’s wink and wiggling of her eyebrows before shaking her head in exasperation.

"Wanda walked away in panic. I tried to talk her out of her nerves, but she is too afraid to make a move herself or believe Natasha is actually flirting with her because she doesn’t want to lose Natasha as a friend."

"How cute." Kate commented as she stared at Wanda talking heatedly with her hands with Natasha, who stared at her like a lovesick puppy and smiled.

"That’s where we come into the picture."

"What?"

"Wanda needs reassurance Natasha likes her back and Natasha, well- she just needs a good opportunity to kiss Wanda. She almost did at the counter, but Wanda walked away before she could do that."

"Okay, I think I’m following."

"I need your help to make sure they are alone in the bathroom. I already thought about everything." Y/N smirked conspiratorially and watched as Kate did the same, nodding in understanding as she agreed to work with Y/N on her plan.

"I like this this wicked side of yours. Go on."

"Okay, first thing first, I will go grab a drink and then go to Wanda and Natasha to join on their conversation, meanwhile you will try to talk to anyone that is in our proximity and wait about 5 minutes before ‘accidentally’-." Y/N made quotation marks with her fingers to stress over the word ‘accidentally’ before continuing, "bumping into me and making me spill my drink on Wanda’s blouse. I will offer to help Wanda clean herself up but then you will stop me by making up some kind of excuse, this way I know Natasha will offer to help Wanda clean herself up and they will be alone in your bathroom." Y/N finished explaining her plan with her chest puffed up in pride, feeling satisfied for making up a great plan to help her friends out.

"That’s great! Did I already tell you I love this wicked side of you?"

-

"No Y/N, tell me you didn’t."

"Oh I did, right in front of my teacher. I got detention for punching that asshole but he asked for it." Wanda and Natasha laughed their asses off as Y/N told them about a funny story from high school, letting a small laugh escape her lips too as she thought about that moment. "That way he ne-." Y/N got abruptly stopped mid-sentence when a body collided on hers, knowing it was Kate that ‘accidentally’ bumped into her and following her plan she purposefully tilted her hand too much from just a simple bump to let her drink spill all over Wanda’s blouse, making her shriek loudly at the coldness invading her body. "Oh, shit! I’m so sorry! Someone bumped into me and I-."

"It’s okay Y/N/N, it wasn’t intentional." Oh, but it was. Y/N mischievously thought in her head before fumbled around to take a few napkins to dab the liquid from Wanda’s blouse. "Ah, shit. Let’s go to the bathroom, I’ll help you clean up."

"Oh Y/N! There you are! I’ve been trying to find you for an hour." Kate immediately butted in the conversation, making Y/N smirk inwardly at her playing along with her plan, "I need your help with something."

"Can it wait? I need to help Wanda-."

"Don’t worry Y/N/N, go. I’ll help Wanda." Natasha interjected gently, a small smile adorning her features as she took the napkins from Y/N’s hands and guided Wanda into the bathroom, "let’s go or you’ll smell like a tropical cocktail for the rest of the night."

Y/N and Kate watched as Wanda and Natasha walked into the bathroom, that Kate made sure no one was in before starting their plan, and then closed the door behind them. "Good job." Y/N admitted to Kate as she lifted her hand up to her without moving her eyes away from the closed bathroom door.

"Thanks, you did good too." Kate high-fived Y/N as her eyes also stayed glued to her bathroom door, before turning towards her assistant mischievously, "we’re a good team."

"Yeah. Now let’s go, you owe me a new drink."

"No, you owe me one." Kate objected and made Y/N snort at her as she shook her head in fond exasperation, but complied anyway as the two made their way towards the counter to make themselves their drinks.

-

"Good morning, Y/N/N!" Y/N lifted her head up from the papers she was sorting out on her desk when Wanda’s voice interrupted her, watching as the girl walked to her desk and sat on her chair with a brighter-than-the-sun smile, something that made Y/N grin too.

"Good morning to you too. In a good mood today?" Y/N asked causally while sitting up from her chair and walking towards Wanda’s desk to sit on it like she usually did on the early working hours when others employees and their bosses haven’t showed up yet, in her smile no trace of her knowing why the redhead was so happy.

"I’m always in a good mood, Y/N/N." Wanda tried to elude Y/N’s question as she avoided eye contact with her. Y/N had a feeling something happened between Wanda and Natasha Friday night and she knew Wanda would spill everything out by just meeting her eyes, but since the girl was avoiding them at all costs, she used other ways to let her talk.

"How was your weekend?"

"Oh you know, same old stuff. Caught up on some sleep, watched a few tv shows, slept some more. Yours?" Wanda answered vaguely, still avoiding Y/N’s gaze as she busied herself with tidying up her desk that was already pretty neat since they hadn’t started working yet.

"Hm, I had to do a few things Kate asked me to do Friday night. Oh speaking of which, I’m sorry again for spilling my drink on you."

At the mention of Friday night, Y/N noticed Wanda’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly as she stopped just a moment in her tracks before resuming her actions to not rise suspicion, "don’t worry, Y/N/N."

"Did you left right after? I tried to find you but you were gone."

"Oh- y-yeah. I- t-the blouse was drenched, I went home because I couldn’t fix the stain." Y/N noticed how Wanda stammered in her explanation and she knew she was ready to relent and tell her what really happened that night, so she just pushed Wanda’s buttons a bit more to make her spill the tea.

"Hm, yeah, that’s understandable." Wanda sighed out of relief when Y/N didn’t say anything else, but almost fainted and fell off her chair at Y/N’s next question, spoken with an innocent lilt in her tone but with a cheeky grin on her lips, "and did you get the hickey on your neck before or after going home?"

Wanda then whipped her head towards Y/N and finally met her eyes with her own widened comically, "I-I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"I think you do. You tried to cover it up with makeup, but it’s too dark for your skin. It’s showing out, like- a lot."

Wanda tried to hold Y/N’s knowing gaze but after a few, painful seconds she relented with a loud sigh, "what do you know?"

"That Natasha definitely helped you out with your blouse." Y/N stated out loud with a proud, knowing smirk, and wiggled her eyebrows mischievously when a deep red blush appeared on Wanda’s cheeks.

"She- I- yeah."

"Oh my god! I’m so happy for you, Wan. Tell me everything!"

Wanda smiled softly at her friend as she fidgeted with her hands and nodded gently but before she could open her mouth, Kate came strolling down the hallway and stopped in front of Y/N sat on Wanda’s desk, "good morning Wanda, good morning Y/N."

"Good morning, Kate." Wanda smiled widely at the black haired girl, hoping with all her heart her blush at least faded a bit.

"Good morning, Kate." Y/N repeated Wanda’s words and greeted her boss, watching her with a knowing smirk on and a certain glint in her eyes, making Kate understand right away what she was silently telling her.

"So, did it work?" Kate asked hopeful, her eyes filling up with mirth when Y/N nodded with a bright grin, shamelessly asking about Wanda with the girl right beside them, who stared at the two girls confused.

"What did it work?" Wanda asked confusedly, biting nervously on her bottom as she worried at the two girls sharing knowing smirks and looks.

Y/N ignored Wanda’s question and answered Kate’s one, her grin broadening, "yup."

Kate stared at Wanda a few seconds, intimidating Wanda as her ocean blue eyes scrutinized her up and down, before she spoke up with a proud smile, now directed at Y/N, "you owe me 50 bucks." And with that Kate walked away from the two girls and into her office, leaving Wanda with her jaw falling on the ground as realization fell on her.

"Yeah, I know." Y/N sighed out as she yelled at her boss before she could close her office’s door and then turning back towards her friend, smiling innocently at a furious looking Wanda.

"Hold on, did you bet on me and Natasha with Kate?!" Wanda asked with an incredulous expression on her features, letting go of the pencil she was holding in her shock, the wooden object clinking loudly on the desk as it fell down.

"Kinda." Y/N tried to downplay what really happened but one pointed look from Wanda made her sigh out dejectedly, "okay, yeah, we did."

"That’s just- wait, hold on." Wanda was ready to give Y/N an earful about betting on herself and Natasha when something Kate said piqued her curiosity again, "Kate asked you if something worked out. What was she talking about?" At that the Y/H/C girl immediately avoided Wanda’s eyes, focusing them on a random item on Wanda’s desk and picking it up.

"Oh wow is this new? I am sure it is, because it totally wasn’t there-."

"Y/N." Wanda stopped Y/N in her attempt of deflecting her question with an authoritative, hard tone that left no space from any more avoiding from Y/N, making the Y/E/C girl let out a resigned breath as she placed Wanda’s stapler back down on her desk.

"We kinda teamed up to make you and Natasha happen on Friday night." Y/N quickly spit out the words and closed her eyes in anticipation, waiting for Wanda’s wrath, but it never came so Y/N tentatively opened one eye to see Wanda’s reaction.

"You two- what?!" Wanda was only capable of emitting those three words, too much focused on replaying Friday night’s events to connect all the dots, but coming up empty. "What did you two do?"

"We planned on spilling that drink on you. I was sure that you both needed a little push, especially Natasha. But it worked right? You spent the night with her, right?"

"Well yeah, but- Y/N!" Wanda leaned forward and slapped Y/N on her bicep, making the girl groan in pain.

"Ohw!"

"That’s what you deserve for what you did." Wanda repeated the gesture, making Y/N groan in pain again before she stared at her in disbelief, her arms opening in bewilderment at the redhead slapping her again, but the girl nodded resolutely, "and that was meant for Kate, but since I can’t hit our boss, I hit you."

"How convenient." Y/N rolled her eyes at Wanda’s logic while caressing her arm to ease the light sting there, Wanda nodding again resolutely.

"And this-." Wanda trailed off to sit up from her chair and Y/N instantly lifted her arms up to shield herself from Wanda’s attack, but relaxed right away when Wanda hugged her tightly, despite the embrace being a bit uncomfortable with Y/N’s hands still between their bodies. "Is for what you two did." Wanda finished her sentence in a grateful tone, leaning her head back and staring into Y/N’s eyes with appreciation glinting in them, before laying a small peck on her left cheek.

"I only wanted you two to be finally happy. You both deserve it." Y/N admitted truthfully, smiling softly at Wanda as she pulled fully away from the embrace and sat back down on her chair, the redhead reciprocating the gesture right away, "now, tell me everything."

-

"Y/N, do you have any reports about that new technology Tony tested?"

"Yeah, hold on- I have it right here." Y/N rummaged through the stack of papers she had in her arms with only one hand as she struggled a bit on not making them fall on the ground as the other held the stack of papers still, and sighed out loud when she came up empty. "Hm, I think I have it on my desk."

"Okay, you’ll give it to me later. You can go for now." Kate dismissed Y/N while never breaking her eyes on whatever she was typing away on her phone, her eyebrows furrowed in a small, focused frown.

"Don’t forget your meeting will start in 20 minutes."

"What meeting?" Kate stopped her fingers’ movements on her phone and looked up at Y/N in a mix of confusion and panic.

"With those investors from Germany."

"Fuck! Was it today?" Kate asked in alarm, frantically looking through the mess that was on her desk to find the sticky note she was sure she put somewhere to remember about that important meeting. After about 10 seconds she found it under hundreds of papers and sighed out in frustration, "shit, I completely forgot about it!"

"Do you need something to help you prepare everything for it?"

"No, I luckily had everything ready for weeks. I am just- shit- worried. A deal with them is really important for us. It’s a lot of pressure and I would’ve liked a little bit more than 20 minutes to get ready properly." Kate moved her eyes from Y/N’s figure standing in the middle of her office to fixate her eyes on the sticky note to calm her nerves down, sighing loudly.

"Is there something else I can do for you?" After a few seconds of silence of Y/N watching Kate closing herself off in her brain still staring at her desk pensively, she spoke up softly, effectively pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Hm, no, thank you. I just need some time alone to get myself ready, like I always do for important meetings. Don’t wait for me. Go welcome our guests when they will arrive, I’ll meet you there." Kate stated in a calm tone while massaging her temples, Y/N staring at her in worry.

"Okay, if you need anything, just call me." Y/N reassured Kate on her way out of the door, looking at her through her shoulder before she could walk out of Kate’s office and watched her nod with a small, grateful smile.

"Will do. Thank you."

With that, Y/N exited the room and sighed out loud again as she walked towards her desk to put away the stack of papers she had in her hands, before searching the reports Kate asked her, finding them in a folder in the first drawer of her desk with ‘TONY’ written down on it. She took the folder and placed it beside her computer, ready to give it to Kate as soon as she finished with her meeting before focusing on tidying up a few more papers littered on her desk. Ten minutes or so later she looked to her right, towards Wanda’s desk, and found it empty, knowing the girl was already in the conference room with Jane, Natasha and Shuri to review a few things before the meeting. She let out a small breath before checking the time. She still got about 6 minutes before she had to be in the conference room to welcome their guests, so she sat up, grabbed her notebook and pen to take a few notes during the meeting and got ready to walk towards the conference room, but stopped in her tracks when she noticed Kate’s office door was slightly ajar and furrowed her eyebrows in thought. Kate hated being interrupted as she got ready for important meetings, so she always asked Y/N to close the door to prevent anyone to disturb her. Her now leaving her desk to go to the meeting room meant she couldn’t stop anyone from disturbing Kate and the door slightly ajar also meant they could think Kate wasn’t actually busy and could just knock, disturbing her in the process. With a small sigh, the girl shook her head and walked towards Kate’s office door, not wanting to deal with an angry Kate in the near future. She grabbed the doorknob and got ready to pull the door close, when a small sound blocked her. It couldn’t be what she thought she just heard, could it? Y/N stayed frozen in front of Kate’s office door for a few moments, her left hand gripping the doorknob hard as she stared with widened eyes at Kate’s black couch through the small crack the door created, her heartbeat so loud in her ears it almost deafened her. When about 10 seconds passed and no strange sound echoed from Kate’s office, Y/N sighed out in relief, thankful that what she thought she heard was probably just the door squeaking loudly. The Y/H/C girl almost chocked on her own saliva when a moment later she heard that sound again, louder this time. It was unmistakable. Kate was moaning. Y/N felt a mix of emotions hit her all at once and it astonished her she wasn’t exactly feeling what she should actually feel when you walk in on your boss moaning, like disgust, horror or uneasiness. No, she actually felt a little bit of shock, but also eagerness and most importantly arousal and instead of focusing on why she was actually feeling that way or to stop eavesdropping on Kate and feel dirty for spying on Kate’s personal space, she tried to take a better look into Kate’s office through the small crack she had available, but sighed out in frustration when she could only see the side of Kate’s desk.

Then, instead of walking away, Y/N tried to open the door just a slightly bit more, thankful it didn’t squeak loudly in the process, and almost fainted when she could now partially see Kate, sat on her chair, facing the windows behind her, and with the back of her chair facing the door. From her angle she could see the blue eyed girl’s right arm was moving rhythmically up and down, leaving no doubts about what Kate was actually doing. A shiver run down Y/N’s spine when Kate whined again under her breath as she noticed she sped up her movements, telling Y/N she was ready to come and that immediately increased her body temperature as a familiar pressure formed in her lower stomach. Y/N knew it was wrong what she was doing and she was glad no one was around to catch her spying on her boss masturbating, but she couldn’t walk away, she felt stuck on her spot as her eyes couldn’t detach from Kate’s arm moving. Her body reacted to every breath, whine or moan Kate emitted, filling her up each passing second with need, need for her and for her release, a release that didn’t take long to come (no pun intended). After about a couple of more seconds with Kate’s whines coming out incessantly, Kate came with a long, breathy moan but with the heartbeat loud in her ears and from her distance Y/N wasn’t able to hear what Kate murmured under her breath. "Fuck." Y/N whispered under her breath and shivered wildly when what she just witnessed caught up on her. She immediately shook herself out of her lustful haze, closed the door as quietly as she could to not be caught by Kate, before walking, no, sprinting, towards the conference room.

-

Y/N typed quickly on her keyboard to update the report of their meeting, feeling her forehead sweating while she shook her right knee up and down frantically under her desk. Even if on the outside she looked laser-focused on her task, she was actually far from that on the inside. She was freaking out as images she witnessed about two hours ago still plagued her mind, increasing the pressure she felt between her legs and the shame she felt for what she had done and what she was feeling. During the whole meeting Y/N sat in her chair staring into space, replaying Kate’s moans over and over in her head and beating herself up for feeling arousal for everything she witnessed. Am I really crushing on my boss?! That’s- just- too much. I mean yeah, she is hot, not to mention smart and witty and extremely beautiful. But she is my boss!!! Fuck I’m so screwed right now. What do I do? I will pretend it never happened, duh. "Y/N, you’re gonna break that thing in half." Wanda snickered when she returned from the printer and noticed the girl’s harsh typing.

"Sorry- I-."

"It went fucking amazing!" Kate exclaimed as she came out of nowhere and placed her hand on Y/N’s left shoulder, making the girl jump up in her chair as she let out a shriek that almost sounded like a moan, but she was thankful neither Kate nor Wanda noticed as they were too busy laughing at Y/N’s reaction.

"Sorry. You just- scared me." To be completely honest Y/N heard Kate approaching her, she just didn’t expect her to touch her and she jumped up not in fright but because her body almost exploded at her touch.

"Remind me to come up behind you and scare you more often. That was hilarious." Kate admitted as she chuckled heartily and patted her on the shoulder, while Wanda calmed down from her giggles and sat at her desk to finish a few tasks Jane assigned to her.

"Yeah, yeah." Y/N dismissed Kate with a wave of her hand, still trying to calm herself down and get a grip on herself. She was Kate’s assistant. She worked with her every day, all day long. She needed to stop feeling this way towards her boss.

"Oh, are these Tony’s reports?" Y/N nodded at the girl as she avoided her eyes at all costs, fearing she would literally melt under her gaze. She just needed to avoid looking and be near her for a while. But it was proven a really difficult task right away when Kate leaned over her to grab the folder on her desk, causing her left boob to grasp her right arm. When she felt she was about to moan out embarrassingly, Kate straightened up and opened the folder, before sitting on Y/N’s desk as she reviewed the papers in there. Y/N definitely didn’t focus her eyes between Kate’s legs as they were slightly spread- hm no, no- opened in front of her as planted her left foot on the floor to balance herself on the desk, focusing instead on her hand close to Kate’s knee that was itching to touch her, silently communicating with it to not move. If someone knew her inner turmoil, they would’ve found the scene hilarious. "Hm, there’s something not working out in these." Kate admitted in a hum as she skidded her eyes quickly on the words written all over again, "did Tony sent us his device?"

"Yes, Natasha showed it to Shuri before the meeting." Wanda answered when Y/N dumbly opened and closed her mouth without responding, making the redhead stare at her in confusion but also curiosity as she tried to meet her gaze, while Kate stayed focused on the papers in her hands.

"Okay great. This definitely needs an electronic engineer’s review. Y/N, can you go get the device and come into my office? I need your help with this."

"Y-yeah. No problem." Y/N stuttered before taking a long breath, calming her heartbeat down, then immediately sprinting up her chair when Kate sat up from her seating position on Y/N’s desk, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the redhead that made a mental note to ask Y/N what was happening before she could go get the device Kate needed to review.

"Great, I’ll wait you in my office." And with that, Kate walked away without breaking her focus from the papers in her hands, entered her office and closed the door behind her.

"I- I need to go. Are we still up for tonight?"

"Yeah, we will pick you up at 9." Wanda nodded before quickly sitting up from her chair and stopping Y/N as she almost flew to the elevator but Wanda stopped her with a hand on her arm, "Y/N/N, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you asking?" Y/N let out in one quick breath and slapped her forehead inwardly for sounding totally okay.

"What happened?" Wanda asked with worried eyes when she saw conflict appear on Y/N’s face as she debated on telling Wanda what happened a few hours prior or not, in the end deciding to tell her the truth, hoping to at least relieve her nerves and guilt.

"B-before the meeting, I-." Y/N looked around herself to make sure no one was listening to them and almost rolled her eyes when she remembered they were the only occupants of that floor beside Jane and Kate, before continuing, spilling out words as fast as humanly possible, "IsawKatemasturbate."

"I’m sorry, what? Can you repeat? Slower this time. You sounded like my brother on his fourth coffee of the day." Wanda snorted at her own joke as she thought over her brother when he had too much caffeine in his system, but chocked on her saliva when Y/N repeated herself, spelling her words out slowly this time.

"I saw Kate masturbate."

"WHAT?!" Wanda screeched in shock as her eyes widened comically, making Y/N shush her as she frantically looked around them again.

"Shhh!"

"Wha- how?!?!"

"I will explain everything later, I need to go or I won’t finish in time and we will be late for tonight."

"Okay, but I need to know everything!" Y/N nodded and quickly run to the elevator to get the device she will need to review with Kate, feeling butterflies in her stomach at the thought, but tried to calm herself down to be as professional as she could.

-

"Ugh, I don’t understand why it’s not working. Tony wrote that he already started working on a solution on this flaw." Y/N groaned after about three hours of reviewing Tony’s reports on the device with Kate, already feeling her uneasiness leave her as she focused on what she was good at.

"I think we need a break from all of this. We can go to my place. I think we are the only people left in here." Kate stated as she looked out of her office and saw only a few lights still on, the others already been shut off by the guards.

"I- I actually have p-plans. It’s Friday night and-."

"Y/N, you don’t need to reason with me." Kate stopped Y/N before she could start rambling with a small smile on her lips and a soft expression on her features, "we can continue on Monday, it’s fine. Or I could work on it myself during the weekend."

"I- I- hm- do you want to tag along tonight?" Y/N screamed inside at her stupid mouth talking before she could give it permission and tried to frantically explain her totally out of nowhere and especially unprofessional question, "I-I mean this way we can continue talking about the device, o-or not. I mean you- I was just-."

"Y/N, breathe." Kate interrupted Y/N with a warm smile on her lips and placed her hands on her shoulders to help her calm down, "yes."

"I-you- what?" Kate’s hands placement was meant to calm Y/N down, but it was only worsening as she was now freaking out for completely different reasons.

"I said yes. I totally need a night out to get rid of this week’s stress. I didn’t have plans tonight other than staying at home watching TV. It will be fun." Kate shrugged and finally moved her hands off of Y/N, letting Y/N breathe normally again.

"I- great. It will be fun." Y/N repeated with more of a grimace instead of a grin and took another deep breath to prevent her heart to beat out of her ribcage.

"Well then, let’s go. Do you need a ride?"

"No I- will take the bus." Y/N waved Kate off but sighed out a moment later when she checked the time and noticed she missed it by an hour.

"Yeah, I’m sure they are waiting for you to finish working." Kate cracked a joke and snorted at her words, "c’mon. I’ll take you home." Kate sent Y/N a soft smile as she shook her head gently and continued, "let me just grab my things and we can go."

"O-kay. Thank you." Y/N stuttered nervously, watching Kate grab her phone, her car keys and her coat and as she waited, her mind decided to let her remember what she witnessed that same day, her eyes immediately flying to the chair Kate was sat in a few moments prior as her body temperature rose once again.

"Are you ready to go?" Kate pulled Y/N out of her head, grateful she pulled her mind out of the gutter before it could spiral out of control and nodded with a gentle smile.

"Hm, yeah, I just need to take my coat and we can go."

-

"Here we go." Kate parked outside Y/N’s building about 40 minutes later, their car ride surprisingly comfortable as they talked about the device some more alongside with a few things to get to know each other more. "We live close each other." Kate pointed out as she took a look around and recognized that part of the city, not too far from the block her apartment was in.

"Yeah, I know." Y/N smiled at Kate, remembering the night she walked in on Kate fucking a girl and before her mind could spiral out of control again with images of Kate masturbating, she just nodded with a snort, not exactly sure if she could exit the car just yet or wait for Kate’s signal or something like that.

"Hm, listen, since we live close, I can pick you up in an hour so we can meet the others there." Kate suggested after silence fell down in the car, not completely awkward but not exactly comfortable.

Y/N was pretty sure she melted onto Kate’s car’s expensive leather seat at the girl acting shy as she asked her question, a sight Y/N wasn’t used to since she had always watched Kate stand tall and carrying so much confidence at work, "yeah, that would be great. I’ll see you in an hour." Y/N agreed without actually thinking properly, but she couldn’t say no to that pretty face literally begging her to come pick her up, so she just took a mental note to call Wanda as soon as she got home to tell her to meet them at the club.

"Great." The two said goodbye with soft smiles and Kate waited for Y/N to enter her building before speeding away towards her apartment, causing Y/N to literally ask the butterflies in her stomach to stop going crazy at the gesture as she took the elevator to her apartment floor. As soon as Y/N closed her apartment door, she grabbed her phone and dialed Wanda’s number and put her on speaker, meanwhile getting rid of her shoes and discarding her pants and jacket on the couch. The redhead answered after 3 rings right as Y/N took off her blouse too, leaving her with just her bra and underwear on.

"Hello?"

"Hey Wan, I called to tell you, you don’t need to pick me up anymore. I’ll meet you there in an hour and a half."

"Did you buy a car in the last four hours?" Wanda asked amusedly at the girl’s words, snorting at her own joke.

"No, I-." Y/N trailed off to think about the best way to deliver to Wanda the news about Kate joining them at the club without having the girl tease her about it to no end but came up empty-handed, so she just decided to deliver the news right away, just like ripping off a bandaid, and hoped Wanda was on her best behavior, "Kate is picking me up."

"I’m sorry, I think I lost signal for a second. Did I heard Kate is picking you up?"

Y/N sighed out at the girl’s mocking tone as she sat on her bed, pinching the bridge of her nose and getting herself ready for the endless teasing, "yeah, I- I invited her tonight."

"Are you serious?" When Y/N stayed quiet at the question, Wanda gasped in shock, "tell me everything!"

"I will try to summarize everything really quick, I still need to shower and Kate will be here in less than an hour." Y/N purposefully ignored Wanda’s knowing ‘hum’ and continued, "we were working on a few flaws Tony’s device has and she started to get frustrated because we didn’t make any improvement, so she wanted to take a break and asked me to continue at her place, but when I told her I already had plans- Wan you should have seen her face, she was so sad. So I asked her to join us. Then she drove me home, realized we live close and asked me to come pick me up. Again she was so adorably hopeful for me to say yes- so I couldn’t say no to her and here we are."

Wanda stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, a wide smirk making its way on her face as she listened to Y/N, sure Y/N could detect it in her tone, "so when were you gonna tell me you had a crush on our boss?"

"WhAT?!" Y/N screeched as she choked up on her saliva, a blush immediately appearing on her cheeks while her heartbeat increased.

"Oh, don’t play dumb with me, Y/N/N. You like her. I honestly had been having my suspects for about two weeks, but this just confirmed everything. I find it extremely cute."

"No Wan, I don’t have a crush on Kate. Yeah she is hot, extremely smart and-and she carries so much confidence during meetings with misogynous men, making her look so powerful- and she can be so- so effortlessly beautiful- and-." Y/N trailed off to sigh out loud when she noticed she just literally gushed about Kate with Wanda and slapped her forehead when she heard the redhead squeal in excitement.

"Oh my god! You have a crush on Kate! Ah! Okay, now it’s not the time to fangirl. You need to get ready. Put on the sexiest thing you have and if you don’t make a move tonight I will literally slap you in front of her."

"Wan did you gone fucking crazy? I can’t make a move on her."

"Why not?"

"Because I’m her assistant and she is my boss. I will never make a move on her. She will definitely fire me and I need this job. Not to mention I spied on her masturbating this morning!" Y/N reasoned as she massaged her temples to relieve the stress she started feeling in that moment once again. Before going into Kate’s office with the device, Y/N told Wanda everything that happened before the meeting and after enduring Wanda teasing her, she walked into Kate’s office to work on the device’s flaws. She would love for something to happen between her and Kate, but they weren’t in a romantic movie. Nothing will happen between them. She won’t give herself hope to have her heart broken.

"What if she doesn’t fire you? What if she likes you back?" Wanda tried to reason with Y/N too, wanting her friend to find happiness just like she did with Natasha and she had to thank Y/N and Kate for that. So she will do everything in her power to make them happen and make them happy like they did with her and Natasha.

"It won’t happen, Wan."

"What if it will?" Wanda pushed, getting a little bit angry at Y/N dismissing everything like she wasn’t even willing to try.

"It won’t, Wan. I don’t want to get my hopes up. I- I need to go. It’s getting late. I will see you soon, okay?"

Wanda let out a frustrated breath but let the girl be for now, "okay, but please, put something nice. It won’t hurt trying."

"Just admit you want to see me in a sexy dress." Y/N tried to joke to lift up the heavy air that surrounded their call and smiled in relief when the redhead snorted under her breath.

"Keep dreaming, Y/L/N."

With that, the two girls hung up and Y/N sprinted into the shower to get ready as quickly as humanly possible since Kate would be there in 45 minutes.

-

PART 2.

[dvchvnde]

You tell him your name in the first three minutes of clambering into his truck. 

It's rattled off between where you’re going (wherever he'll take you), where you'd like to be (the ocean, the sea, the ocean and the sea and the mountains; a place where both meet—), and sits, nestled, in the heart wrenching travesty of where you ended up. In a truck with just a stranger for company, destination unknown.

Your whole life packed up inside of a box resting on the rusting bed of his truck. No one knows you left. They'll figure it out in the morning, you're sure. A ant that escaped the colony. Left for something better and got stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a few hundred dollars to your name, and a box filled with junk.

(stupid, stupid girl—)

It's quiet in the cab. The only sound cutting through is the crunch of gravel and dirt under his tires. The noises his engine make.

The sound of his truck is not too dissimilar to an old, sick cat. It doesn't quite purr. It sputters. Sickly. Hacks through corroded lungs, spitting up plumes of thick, black smoke into the air. You grip the worn, threadbare seats until your nails ache, feeling each jerk and dip of the road acutely in your chest. Thump, thump, thump.

This might have been a mistake, you think, eyes staring firmly ahead. Through the streaks on the windshield, the horizon a smears a pale pink beneath powder soft blue. Cloudless. The sun is to the west. Maybe. Your knowledge of the world outside of the box is rooted in a weathered textbook printed back in 1935.

(A dumb girl, mamma always said. But at least you have your pretty face.)

Embarrassment needles in—that familiar knife of shame cutting into your seams. You swallow it down. It doesn't matter. Not here. Not in this truck. You'll go somewhere else. A big city where the books are based in fact, and you'll read and read and read until you're not just pretty face. Empty space. Something to gawk at but not engage.

an ornament girl.

It makes you itch to say something. To fill the air with whatever might impress him even if you don't think you like this man too much. But you don't. You bite your tongue because smart girls like silence, don't they? They like the time to think because that's what they do; think, and that's what you do, even if they race by like silverfish, too quick to catch: just think, think, think—

But as the winding back roads of the flat prairie yawn into thickened wheatfields and towering tussocks of corn deeper in the rural, unpopulated countryside, he speaks, voice rough. Gritty. It grazes over your neck like a sharpened blade, tip pressing against your jugular. 

"Don't care what your name is," he grunts, rummaging through the console for a pack of cigarettes—Pall Malls, he snorts; ain't even go’ Marlboros in this shithole. 

When you ask why he doesn't care to know your name, he snorts in way that rankles down your spine. Like it's obvious. Like you know the answer. But—derisively, droll—his eyes slant in your direction over the console of the old truck that sputters down the barren dirt road, drenched in something you can't name. Shouldn't name, maybe. Shouldn't think about. Shouldn't acknowledge.

"Dogs don't get to name themselves, do they?"

No, you think, settling back into the seat, mind reeling. Spinning in circles as he tosses the pack into your lap, grunting at you again to get ‘im one. Make yourself useful. 

As he drags you further and further out to the middle of the prairies, where the thick tussocks of grass away in the breeze like waves lapping over the surface of the rugged sea, you think of your mother and what she used to say about men.

(do you really think any of them want anything good with a girl like you?—)

Your fingers dig into the seat as your mind sputters like the old truck, spinning uncatchable thoughts of dogs and men.

Don't get to name themselves. Don't want anything good with a girl like you.

You suppose they don't. 

(You don't get it until you do. 

But that comes later. 

What comes first is a box.)