#me @ them “honey you’ve got a big storm coming”

[sscrambledmeggss]

Slowly making my parents a blaine anti with the Tony audition scene

[pucksandpower]

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight, Ch 5: To Atomize

summary: nathan leaves his house to tell you he loves you.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, mentions of sick/dying parent, pining, dom/sub dynamics, mid love confessions, oral (m + f receiving), p in v sex, creampie, squirting, NATHAN’S SO IN LOVE AND SIMPY AND FREE

wc: 6,138

an: we've sadly reached the end of the main story. thank you thank you for all the support on this fic. a girl watches ex machina once and suddenly is writing 20+k for an asshole simp. i do plan to write the extras fairly quickly (the next month or so) and they'll vary in length. i hope y'all stick around for more of them.

in plain sight masterlist | family dinner | tiana | TIONB | planted | little hamlet

You and Nathan are doing work out on the couch, your legs thrown over his. It’s all very domestic, something the both of you could get used to. 

He doesn’t look up when he asks, “That date out— do you still want it?”

“I do but honestly, I don’t think it’s realistic. You like being out here, Emma and Phillipa shouldn’t be at home by themselves for so long— not to mention my mom.”

“You don’t talk about your mom,” He observes, his eyes rising from his laptop to look at you. 

You continue your work as you talk, “There’s too much to talk about. And nothing at all.”

“And the vagueness returns,” There’s more bite in his voice than he wants there to be, but he can’t help it.

You notice immediately— going rigid like stone before you fix him with an empty gaze. “She’s dying. She can’t work. She sleeps most days. In the mornings before I come here, I read to her and when I get home I tell her I love her and kiss her goodnight. Is that specific enough for you, Mr. Bateman?”

Nathan just looks at you, his eyes for once, void of any emotion to tell you how he’s feeling. Nathan 3 months ago would have stormed away, or said something snarky. But, he just keeps looking at you. The silence makes you uncomfortable and your words replay in your mind over and over, guilt building each time. Your mother’s a tender subject, but Nathan is…more than anyone has ever been to you despite not making that clear to him. You open your mouth to apologize but he shushes, closing his laptop and then yours before he pulls you into his lap and holds you close. 

He kisses at your temple, your forehead, your cheek, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

It shouldn’t catch you off guard, his affection and tenderness but it does. You melt into him even as your walls go up inside. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, honey. It’s not. Can you tell me what—“

“Cancer. Off and on since I was in high school.”

“You’ve been taking care of your sisters off and on since they were born?”

You shrug. It was true. In the moment, when you and your mother had made those decisions together— your father wishing and washing his way in and out of your lives whenever he felt like— they hadn’t seemed like a big deal. But, Nathan’s tone can’t help but make you realize how much you’d missed out on because of your duty to your family.

“Shit, honey.”

“It’s alright, Nathan,” You breathe. It’s not, it’s never been okay, but you’ve been telling yourself that for as long as you can remember. 

“It’s not. You’re a good fucking woman. You and your family deserve better.”

“They do deserve better. My sisters don’t have a time remembering her like I do. Before she got sick. That’s fucked up isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, baby, it is.” His hold on your tightens, a hand smoothing up and down your back. “Let me take you out for one night.”

“Nathan, I just said—“

He takes your jaw into his hands, intentional yet gentle with his grip as he guides you to look at him. Those big brown eyes are warm but firm. “We’ll do it in the city. I’ll pick you up from your apartment, you’ll be a phone call away. I’ll bring you home first thing in the morning. C’mon baby, you deserve a break. Let me give it to you.”

—

You agree to Nathan’s advances, like you always do these days. This date takes a lot of coordinating— but somehow it all turned out in your favor. Nathan jokes that it’s because of his god-like will. You’re just happy to take the breather when it’s presented to you. Emma gets invited to her first sleepover, Phillipa’s school is having a lock in. Somehow, Nathan had convinced you to accept him paying for one day of round the clock care for your mother so her usual nurse, Celia, could have a day off too.

You’re realizing that maybe you’re just as gone for him as he is for you. That you believe what he’s said about the depths of his feelings for you and maybe, you’re ready to take the next step and allow yourself to feel them openly for him too. How quickly the tide turns. How quickly Nathan had put in the effort to show how badly he wanted this— you. 3 months ago you could say with sincere surety that you did not like Nathan Bateman. And now…well you were sure you couldn’t deny loving him. 

He tells you to dress formally— it lands you in your favorite black dress, the one that always gives you a boost of confidence and makes you feel good. You’re going to need if your racing thoughts about how your feelings have deepened are any indicator for how the evening will go. And maybe, once or twice, you’ve imagined Nathan peeling you out of it when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband late at night.

When you open the door, Nathan’s in a crisp white button down and slacks, a suit jacket draped over his shoulders— your knees nearly give out. So do his.

“Fuck me,” He breathes.

“My neighbors can hear you,” You remind him breathlessly, your face hot as his eyes slowly trace your figure. 

“They should be lucky we’re not staying here or they’d hear a hell of a lot more. Fuck. You look incredible, baby.”

“My eyes are up here.”

“I’ve seen enough of those.”

“Nathan.”

“Can you fucking blame me? You walk out here in this tight little dress, one I imagine will stay on until after dinner, which is a fucking sin if you ask me. I’m giving commotion for the dress honey, it is what it is. Come here,” He reaches for you, snaking his arm around your waist so he can kiss you thoroughly. When he breaks the kiss he whispers, “Hi.”

Some of your nerves dissipate at his clear attraction to you, his sweetness. You smile against his mouth, bumping his nose with your own. “Hi. You look so handsome.”

“Thank you,” He murmurs, a smug grin spreading across his face. 

“Patience and good manners, you’re a changed man yet.”

“Does that mean if I ask to feel you up in the limo, you’ll say yes?”

“My neighbors, Nathan,” You remind him sternly, though you’re still smiling. 

“Stuffy old fucks probably need a good show.”

“Walk.”

—

The limo ride to the nearby docks is 40  minutes with the traffic — and he helps you out like a gentleman, guiding you to a moderately sized boat. It’s impressive, all cream and blues, the 

“Nathan, why is there a helicopter next to this boat?”

“In case you need to get home,” He says simply, if that explanation is enough. 

“In case— we got here by limo.”

“You’re a phone call and a 10 minute helicopter ride away from your family.”

How were you gonna make it through dinner without dragging him to the ground so you could ruck up your dress and fuck him? He was saying all of this, doing all of this so nonchalantly, like it isn’t the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.

He leans in, mouth and beard tickling your cheek as his whispers teasingly, “This is usually where people say thank you.”

You lean away, giggling a little. Your tone is suggestive, “What if I’m saving my thank you until after dinner?”

“Finally gonna show me some of those methods? It’s been driving me fucking nuts, honey.”

“Depends on how good you are.”

Nathan bites back a moan. This is all so fucking surreal. Being out of his home, being with you. Learning more and more about you, seeing you. Being yours and you being his. It’s more than he could’ve hoped for. He thought he would’ve fucked up by now— and he has, but you held a selfless amount of patience in your heart. He finds himself feeling…grateful? It’s an unfamiliar feeling, one he pushes away from a young age. 

“Don’t be filthy before dinner,” He murmurs lowly.

“You‘ve been eyeing my tits since you picked me up,” You challenge. 

“I’ve been appreciating them, there’s a difference. You ever been on a boat before?”

You eye the boat thoughtfully, “My mom used to take me on the ferry. Does that count?”

Nathan hums. He hasn’t ushered you onto the boat just yet, the two of you standing out on the docks in the salty breeze. It’s nice, being out in the fresh air like this, the water dark as the sun finishes dipping below the horizon. He’d anticipated much more anxiety given his hermit tendencies but it was just you and him and the few staff he’d hired to manage the boat. 

“Do you want to name it?” He blurts out all of a sudden.

“Name what?”

“The boat,” He nods towards the ship. 

You frown, confused. “You haven’t named the boat?”

“I bought it last week.”

“Nathan, did you buy this boat to take me out on a date?”

“Yes I did,” He says with no shame. 

All of that will be an adjustment, the blasé way that he spends money— especially when he spends it on you. You know that he has a fuck ton of it but still; you’ve never lived a life of luxury. 

“Do all employees get this sign-on bonus?” You tease.

“Hush, cheeky girl. Name the boat.”

You grow thoughtful, and that thoughtfulness quickly melts into a melancholic, wistful feeling. You think about your mom. How she’s been swayed back and forth by the tide of life, doing her best to float above it all. It would be nice wouldn’t it, to name something after the woman you love most?

“Boats are named after strong women. So I think…Tiana,” You murmur, voice full of emotion. You clear your throat quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

But Nathan’s obsessed with you— and now that you’ve let him in, he can sense every push and pull. He maneuvers you so that your back is flush with his front. “I like it. Tiana…is that your mother?”

You don’t trust your voice. You simply hum, nodding a little bit as you press back against him. 

He squeezes you tighter, “It’s perfect, baby. Absolutely fucking perfect.

He cups your jaw with one hand, guiding your gaze to his. He’s never seen you nonverbal like this before, never seen sadness in your eyes like this. It makes his chest ache. He guides your mouth to his, kissing you with gentle reverence you never would’ve guessed he was capable of until recently.

Nathan just holds you, letting you melt against him in silence for an undetermined amount of time. His worry grows. “Do you want to call the nurse before we sit down for dinner? Emma? Phillipa?”

Finally, you speak. “No. No, it’s alright. I spend the entire day away from all of them when I’m working for you— I can do this.”

“Just say the word, okay, sweetheart?”

You lean in to give him a soft peck of appreciation, “Yes, I will. Thank you, Nathan.”

Dinner is much more elaborate than it had to be— but this is Nathan you’re talking about, a man with practically the entire world at his fingertips. Of course a 10 course meal makes sense to him. Not that you’re complaining about a personal sized crawl through Italy; breads and antipasto, pastas of all sorts, wines that are perfectly paired, and to end your favorite dessert from the first time the two of you shared a meal together. Despite his underestimating himself and his chaste manner, you think that Nathan is good at romance. He’s great at romance. By the time you’re finishing the last bite, you’re warm and full, a little buzzed and most importantly— needy for him. 

Your entire body is craving his. You’ve denied your desires and his for long enough. You need him, you feel like you might go insane with lust— with love, if you don’t have him. 

“Are we sleeping here?” 

“There’s a suite downstairs, or there’s a hotel nearby I reserved. It’s your call.”

“Here…here is good. Will you take me to bed?” You ask, nonchalantly. 

Nathan chokes on the wine he’s sipping, setting it down to looking at you more intently. “Take you to bed,” He repeats.

“Yes, Nathan, take me to bed,” You practically purr at him this time, voice low and smoky.

Nathan has had  lots of sex in his life, never been flustered or taken aback by anyone. He’s accepted that all of his past experiences go out the window when it comes to you, but he doesn’t expect such a strong reaction out of himself when faced with the opportunity to finally ravish you. He feels like if he stood up right now, his legs would give out like jello. 

The way you’re looking at him— he’s sure no one has ever looked at him like this in his entire life. Carnal and hungry, like when you kissed him breathless in the forest, but more intense. It’s almost overwhelming. He’s never been consumed before, and that’s exactly how you’re looking at him. Like you’re going to swallow him whole. His cock twitches and he takes a deep breath.

“Come here,” He says softly, pushing away from the table and holding his hand out for you.

You stand, moving closer to him but don’t take his hand. “If I touch you…if we start here, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

Nathan feels winded. He squeezes his eyes shut, and nods. “Fuck, honey, alright. Follow me.”

Nathan guides you through the dining room and down a hall, not even bothering to mention what doors the two of you pass. His heart is pounding in his chest— he’s ready for this, been ready for so long and he wants this to mean something. He had been ready to wait as long as you needed in order for this moment to be everything it can be. 

The suite he takes you to is larger than you anticipated it to be, but you can’t bring yourself to care. As soon as Nathan shuts the door behind you, you practically launch yourself at him, your hands starting at where his shirt is tucked into his pants. You ruck it up, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Whoa, mmm,” He hums into your mouth. His hands finally fall to cup your ass, kneading and squeezing the way he’s wanted to for hours now. “You been this desperate the whole time?”

“Have you?” You counter as you press him against the door, grinding your hips against his. You can feel him through the fabric of his trousers, and it makes your mouth water. 

“Fuck, baby, lemme get you on the bed at least,” He breathes when he feels the way your hips rut.

You pull away, looking at him with bright but hazy eyes— like he’s just come up with some revolutionary idea. “The bed, right. Come here.”

You start to walk backwards, guiding him with you by his shirt. Once the back of your thighs hit the bed, you switch positions with him, encouraging him to sit down so that you can straddle him. Nathan feels weightless— this is like his dream come true. Just a couple months ago he was jerking himself off imagining a sight like this, and now he was living it. 

Looking up at you, he feels warm. Fuzzy. Like he’s in the safest place he’ll ever be in. With his limited data and hope, trust— things he’s never had with anyone— he knows that he is. This is all he’ll ever need. You’re all he’ll ever need. He loves you so much it hurts. 

“Baby,” He sighs, guiding your mouth down to his. Where your mouth is hurried and insistent, his is lazy and indulgent. He wants to savor every moment.

“Hmm,” You hum grinding down against his clothed cock in a move that makes both of you moan. 

“I fucking love you.”

You lean away, eyes wide with alarm. Part of you, most of you, thought that to be true. Well— whatever he was capable of feeling that was close to love. He’s proved himself to you. All of his intentions, his actions, his words— no matter how haphazard he’s been in communicating them— have been pure. While just a few months ago you were sure Nathan could love no one but himself, you’re sure now that he’s being completely honest. It sends you further into your frenzy. He loves you. 

Nathan Bateman fucking loves you. 

You’re quiet for so long that he feels antsy. There’s no regret, no anger in his heart like he thought there could be when first pursuing you. But he is starting to feel small, like a nuisance like his parents made him feel all those years ago. 

“Really?” You ask breathlessly, unsure if it’s from his declaration or your body’s response to being pressed against him like this. 

He scoffs, squeezing your hips, “Really? You think I fucking—“

“Okay, alright, I love you too.”

“Really?”

You fix him with narrowed eyes. Of course you get scolded but he gets to do the exact same thing as you. It’s very Nathan. It makes you love him more. 

“Nathan.”

“My really is fucking justified, I’m some asshole, you’re…you’re the moon. The sun. The sky. I’m not good at this poetic shit but I mean it.”

“You’re the sweetest, most thoughtful, insightful and just— kind. I know what you’re thinking, I know that something or someone’s taught you not to think that you’re kind and worthy but you are. Even if you’re an asshole and a clown, you are. And I love you.”

“We’re fucking corny and sickly sweet and so cliche. I could vomit,” He says, his grin wide and genuine. 

You nuzzle into him, laughing softly at the tickle of his beard, “You would study it, see if it quantified any of your love for me.”

“So you think I’m disgusting,” He murmurs, using his grip on you to rock your hips down against his cock. 

The pressure is sweet, and you shiver even as you try to get your voice even. “Am I wrong?”

He laughs a little, eyes fluttering when you help him rock you down even further, “No.”

You reach up to remove his glasses, bending to set them on the side of the bed— you didn’t want to break them, now with how you were about to ravish him. “Kiss me, Nathan.”

Usually, he needs to be told things once, twice, and again but this request Nathan obeys immediately. His hands start to travel up your body, fingers sliding under the fabric of your dress to expose inch after inch of your precious skin. His eyes are closed as he bares you to him, pulling down the cups of your bra so your breasts spill out, but he can feel how beautiful you are under his fingertips. Smooth and soft, fitting perfectly in his grasp.  Every touch, every kiss is electric. His hands skate up your stomach, cupping your breasts before he takes your nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good. So good,” He mumbles into your mouth, his fingers still working, eager to hear the soft little sound you made.

You melt into him, nodding frantically as you continue to sip from his mouth. “You too.”

Nathan breaks away from your mouth, biting and kissing his way down your neck, sucking a faint mark into your skin. More. He wants more of you, and you more of him. He kisses a trail between your breasts before leaning in, suckling one of your nipples into his mouth. You taste so fucking good. Like honey and cocoa, so delicious. Not for the first time, Nathan thinks about how much he wants to consume you. Or be consumed. He can’t choose, his head is spinning and he’s getting more frantic, shaking beneath you as he sucks and nips at you. 

You can feel yourself getting lost in him, but this isn’t what you’ve thought about all these months. He feels incredible, his mouth is warm, his hands sure. The pleasure that’s blooming all over your body is one you'll never give up. But, no, for all these months, you’ve thought about turning him into a whining, shivering mess. You’ve thought about making him cum over and over until he can think of nothing but you. 

You lean away, cupping your face in your hands,  “Wait— please, let me touch you. I get off all the time, but I haven’t touched a man in so long. I wanna see you.”

“Honey—“

Your hands fall, gripping his shirt and ripping at it. Buttons scatter as you work him out of the shirt, leaning in to coax his mouth open for you once more.  “Let me make you cum. Please, I need it.”

“That’s what you want?” He asks skeptically.

“Yeah, and you’d give me anything, wouldn't you? You ask, tilting your head at him expectantly.

“I’d give you anything,” He confirms.

You slid out of his lap, reaching behind to unclasp your bra and discard it. It leaves you in nothing but black lace panties. “Then take your pants off.”

All Nathan can do for several moments is stare at you, his mouth agape, ready to drool. He could believe he’s died and gone to heaven, except he doesn’t believe such a place exists. And if he did, he would not end up in a place where he would be so privileged to be met with the sight of you. You're an angel in the most sinful way.

“Nathan,” You coo when he doesn’t move, a soft grin on your face.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. 

It’s adorable, it makes the heat in your lower belly burn brighter. You can feel yourself getting wetter for him by the second. “I thought about you like this so much.”

“Could've fooled me,” He heaves, trying to seem less affected than he is. That boat sailed the moment you asked him to take you to bed. 

You laugh softly at his words, dropping to your knees and resting your hands on his broad thighs.  “Don’t be snarky, baby, just let me make us feel good. You want that don’t you?”

Nathan shivers, even as your warm, honeyed voice glides across his skin. God he knew you’d be like this, knew he’d bend to your will so easily but to hear it and feel it. “I do,” He sighs, allowing you to guide him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Your eyes are dark with hunger, and you lick your lips a little as you look up at him. “God, your cock’s so fucking pretty. Can I put my mouth on you?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” He whispers earnestly.

You aren’t gentle or patient or thoughtful about letting him adjust. You take Nathan’s cock completely, so deep that he feels like he’s starting to enter your stomach. It takes everything in him to keep his hips down, a will that crumbles when you swallow, your throat tightening around him. The sound you make is a cross between a gag and a satisfied hum. You pull off without missing a beat, spitting on the tip of his cock and lifting a hand to grip and pump him.

“Mmm, shit, that’s really…that’s really fucking—“ Nathan babbles incoherently, words cutting off. 

You start in on him again, your head bobbing up and down as you take him over and over again. The noises he’s making have you squeezing your thighs together. Soft and breathy and so so sweet. You peer up at him wanting to see how he looks. The flush in his cheeks is deeper and redder, his eyes somehow sharp and hazy all at once. Seeing him so vulnerable, gooey and nearing the peak of pleasure you don’t stop, sucking harder, allowing the tip of his cock to go deeper.

One of his hands falls to your shoulders, gripping it gently, “Wait— wait— fuck, hold on baby, just,”

Carefully, you pull off of him, wiping at the trail of spit that connects your mouth to his cock. You look up at him with those sweet little eyes, like you haven’t nearly sucked what little of a soul lies within him. “Hmm?”

“Wanna cum inside you, please.”

“This is you cumming inside me,” You challenge, kissing at the head of his cock.

“Inside your pussy,” He gasps, the vein that trails down the center of his forehead on display as he fights to stay still—as he holds back.

You rest your head on his thigh, looking up at him like he’s hung the moon. The sight alone almost makes him cum. 

“Say, please,” You whisper.

“Please, sweetheart.”

“You’re so good, do you know that?” You ask him softly, reaching up to cup his face. 

“Good?” He asks with a furrowed brow. The word directed at himself feels clumsy in his mouth. 

“Good,” You repeat as confirmation. “So good that you’re gonna lay back against those pillows without another word aren’t you?”

Processing your words, he simply nods, helping you to your feet before he scoots back, propped up against the pillows, looking so devilishly handsome. If you stared at him long enough, you’re sure you could cum from just this sight. But why torture yourself like that, when you’re this close to having him buried inside you? Body humming with anticipation you crawl up the bed, straddling him once more. 

“Do you want to feel how wet I am?” 

“Yes,” He answers quickly before tacking on, “please.” 

That sentence alone shows just how much Nathan Bateman is a changed man. Please without being promoted? Atop apologies and vulnerability and love confessions. 

You hold your panties to the side for him, “Go on then. Touch me, baby.”

Nathan’s eyes track to where your pussy runs along his cock, burning hot. He reaches for you, letting his fingers sweat through your folds, causing both of you to moan. You’re so fucking wet, dripping, glistening in the warm lamplight. 

“For me?” He asks, voice and hands trembling as he finds your clit, pressing his thumb against it.

“For you. Because you’re so fucking good for me. Good to me.”

Every fucking word out of your mouth pulls his closer to his release. He needs to be inside you, he can feel the clock ticking. “Can I fuck you now, honey? Please, I need to feel you.”

“Who knew Nathan Bateman would beg?”

“On my knees for the rest of my fucking life, baby.”

You can picture it, except in your dreams, Nathan’s beard is shining with your slick. Your breath catches, and you grow too needy to continue teasing him. It takes you just a few seconds to line him up with your entrance, giving neither of you time to adjust as you sink down on him completely. His back arches, huffing a heavy, labored breath. He’s sweating, he can feel it, his skin slick underneath your fingertips as your pussy grips him so deliciously tight. You’re dripping down his cock already.

“Fuck, honey—,” He laughs, squeezing at your hip, nearly pushing you off to hold on. “Fuck me, you couldn’t have— warned a guy?”

“Sorry,” You breathe, grinning down at him, “needed to fuck you.”

Nathan’s eyes roll as you rock your hips, completely breathless, “Shit—your pussy’s so fucking tight. So hot, you been saving this all for me?”

You bend, your nose resting against his as you gaze into him, “Savor it— don’t think. Don’t control. Just enjoy it, Nathan. Be with me. Give in to me. Say yes.”

“Yes,” He slurs, drawn out and drunk on you. 

You guide his hands to either side of his head, holding them down by his wrists as you start to move, your pussy taking his cock the way your throat had with even more ease. The two of you fit together so perfectly, your cunt swallowing his entire length over and over, pleasure mounting higher and higher inside you. Nathan’s winning the fight against his body now. He’s happy to submit to you, it feels so good, so perfectly sweet, like he was made to be underneath you like this. But his body screams for release, to roll you over and fuck you hard until you squeeze his cock so tight there’s no choice in his cumming.  

“Wanna cum…wanna cum in your pussy,” He whines, his hips lazily rocking up to meet yours. 

“You will baby, I’ll let you fill me up,” You assure him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, teasing yourself and him for a moment as you close your eyes and let yourself really feel every single inch of him.

Nathan’s lips are parted slightly, pink and flushed, soft gasps leaving him as your hips grind down against his. You remove one of your hands from his wrists, leaning back so you have room to run your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” He says, his words syrupy, “feels good. So good.”

“Let me in there,” You murmur, tapping two of your  fingers against his lips, and he opens wide immediately. You purposefully clench your cunt around him, a small reward for his obedience and he groans, his back arching as pleasure burns in his veins. 

“I’m gonna soak your cock,” You tell him matter of factly.

Nathan’s eyes go wide, his chest rising fast as his lungs beg for air. No matter what he does its not enough. He’s drowning in you, there’s nothing he can do about it. There’s nothing he really wants to do about it. “Soak my—“

“Nice and wet, all over you. Gonna make us messier,” You whisper, like the sound of his cock gliding in and out of you isn’t already obscene. “You want that don’t you, Nathan?”

He doesn’t have words, just soft, needy sounds. Pleading round eyes. Shallow, noisy breaths. It’s all the answer you need.

“I know, baby. I know. Cum whenever you need to, I’ll make it,” The gentle tone of your voice doesn’t match the devious look in your eyes. 

You know exactly what you’re doing. You know his cock aches with the need to release, know he’s fighting this because he never wants this to end. Know that he’s never been this deep in subspace in his life, that he’ll obey any command you give him.

You shift up on your knees, until you’re taking nothing but the tip, and then rock back, taking him as deep as you can. Bending to your will, Nathan cums with a sound that can only be described as sweet agony. 

As he fills you up, your hips slip into a grind, pressing and pressing the tip of his cock against the sensitive spot inside you. You can feel it coming now, you know just how to twist your hips, just how long to rub at your clit to make it happen. Your thighs grow tight, your cunt clenching as it starts to milk him for everything he’s got. You gush around him, the sound so wet and filthy that Nathan thinks he might cum again. Your slick is everywhere; your thighs, your stomach and all over Nathan, his lower belly glistening with you. He looks down and groans again, need rising sharply in his chest. He wants to taste you. 

“Let me taste you, please. Drown me,” He begs, one of his hands shakily reaching for where the two of you connect.

Your hands fall to the pillows on either side of his head, propping you up from where you’d since collapsed onto him. “Nathan, baby, you’re tired—“

But, Nathan is desperate— as desperate as you were when you asked him to take you to bed, you can hear it in his voice as he pleads, “Sit on my face. Please, please, please, baby. Fucking, please. Let me eat your pussy.”

Your lost to him and his begging. With the little strength you have left, you shuffle up, getting you thighs on either side of his head, gently lowering yourself down through the burn of your muscles. Nathan has another idea, weakly reaching for you and effectively smothering himself in your pussy. Its messy, the sounds of his mouth as he licks and sucks at your clit like a starved man. Like you two hadn’t just stuffed yourselves full at dinner. 

“Nathan,” You mumble, trying to steady yourself by leaning against the headboard. His beard tickles against your thighs, but makes the work of his mouth even better, brushing each and every bit of your sensitive pussy.

Despite your plea, Nathan is insatiable, pulling you down by his grip on your ass. He’s gasping and whining into your cunt, like it's all too much and too little at the same time. He can hardly breathe with how firmly he’s got you pressed against his face, though he wouldn’t change his position for the world. He would happily die here if it was what you wanted.

He can feel your thighs shaking against the sides of his head and knows that you’re close to cumming. Doubling his efforts, Nathan switches from running his tongue through your folds to focusing solely on your clit, circling and circling in a maddening technique. When you fall apart on his tongue, he presses his tongue inside of you, eager to drink up every single drop of your sweet honey. 

He feels like he’s cumming again, his cock jerking behind you though there’s nothing for him to release. He feels like he’s been split right open, all of his tender, vulnerable spots on display.

It takes several minutes for Nathan to come back to himself once you shift off of his face, laying your body against his. He’s gasping for air with tightly shut eyes, his entire body shaking. You run a hand up and down his chest, cooing soft praises as you try to soothe him. 

He stares at the ceiling, steadying his breaths. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby. You’re the filthiest person I’ve ever met.”

You tilt your chin to look up at him, admiring the shine of his beard that’s completely covered in you. A mark that he’s yours. “Thank you.”

The grin on your face— you’re trying to fucking kill him. How many times has he thought since he’s started this endeavor of winning your heart and why is it not over now that he has? Your grin is smug, full of fire, the fire he’s wanted from the moment he laid his eyes on you. He loves you so fucking much. If this is what he gets, he’ll be better for the rest of his life. He’ll move to the city, do the house in the crowded suburbs with the picket fence, get married. Have kids, and attend the most boring PTA meetings that plan bake sales. Bake sales where he’d have to make cookies— real cookies, not the ones with coconut sugar and almond flour, and low sugar chocolate. If it was what you wanted he’d do it all. Any of it at the drop of a hat.

“What are you thinking about?” You trace small shapes on his chest, enjoying the post-coital cuddle. 

“You.”

“What about me?”

“That you’re everything,” He says easily. It’s nice— the reservations, the anxiety that he had about all of this has faded in the shadows. 

With you, Nathan gets to be completely honest, knowing that he’s safe. None of what his parents said was true. He’s not unlovable. He’s not selfish. He isn’t just a fuck up that can never amount to anyone’s expectations. Despite his mistakes, he’s allowed to be loved. 

“Remember when I was just your employee?” You ask teasingly, snuggling further into him.

“Fuck, I was an idiot for months. Best thing I’ve ever had, dangling in front of me in plain sight.”

“Not Bluebook?”

“No.”

“Or buying that property?”

“No.”

“The money?”

“No.”

“Your freedom?”

He snorts, “My freedom?”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted to you,” You remind him. 

“And I fucking meant it.”

“It doesn’t sound very…freeing. Very Nathan,” You muse softly. 

Nathan’s quiet for a long time— so long that you grow nervous, afraid that you’ve said the wrong thing. Just as you’re about to sit up to apologize, he wraps his arms around you, dropping a kiss on your forehead, “This, sweetheart, is the freest I’ve ever been in my life.” 

Fin

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho

[sentientgolfball]

Can't Get Enough

So the anniversary of my first fic is on the 23rd and to celebrate here's a Rulti fic. Rain/Swiss was the first pairing I ever wrote for and it's interesting to see how far I've come in just a year.

Special thanks to @jesusbutbetterrr for the idea ! Also @hypnoneghoul @revengeghoulette come get your food!

Read here or on Ao3

Word Count: 4142

Tags: GILLS, intox, water ghouls are wet, this is the like the only time I've written sub Rain and I am in awe

Summary: Rain and Swiss disappear to the greenhouse to partake in their stormy night ritual.

The sky had been overcast all day. Dark clouds sat heavy, a slight chill in the air. The scent of rain was so thick even the Siblings could smell it. Despite the dreary conditions, the clouds did not break until past sunset. It began softly, a gentle patter against the windows; before long though, it turned into a downpour. Rain and Swiss had snuck off to the greenhouse when the first drop fell. 

Now they are laid out on the beat up old mattress Mountain keeps around for winter naps. Fairy lights provide a soft orange glow to the otherwise dark building. The occasional flash of lightning acts as the only other light source. 

This is their ritual. When the air finally turns warm and frost turns to dew, Rain and Swiss will end up at the greenhouse whenever there is a storm. It gives Swiss space to relax. Storms always give him a strong surge of energy, one that usually leaves him with a migraine. The curse of housing multiple elements in one vessel. It gives Rain a place to be immersed in his element while also avoiding the chill that causes an ache in every joint. Coming to the greenhouse together lets them still have company when they need away from the whole pack. 

The first time had been an accident. It was a big storm, one that cut the power from the Ministry and left a multitude of fallen tree limbs. Swiss had needed to get outside before lightning exploded out of his body. He had no idea what was happening, his elements had never surged like this in the Pits before. Rain was letting the storm fuel him, ignoring the ache in favor of letting out massive bursts of water magick. It was the most fun he had had so far in his short time Topside. They ran into each other when the storm got so severe even they knew they needed to get back inside. They both ducked into the greenhouse instead of going to the den for the same reason. They weren’t ready for it to end. They hadn’t known each other very well back then, so they sat on the dirt floor and talked until pain zapped through Swiss’ skull and he nearly collapsed. When the storm passed and Swiss’ pain went away, Rain asked if they could do that again; sit and talk while they watched their element. 

Sometimes it's soft and sweet, like that first night. Sometimes they break into Mountain’s secret stash and smoke until time melts away into honey. Sometimes they fuck until one of them bleeds. Most of the time, it’s a combination. Tonight is no exception. 

They have one of Mountain’s tins sitting in between them on the mattress. Their legs and tails intertwine as they pass the joint back and forth, giggling about nothing and everything. Swiss takes it back from Rain, inhaling deeply and holding for a few moments before blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. He laughs and runs his hand over his face. 

“Fuck this shit is good. It’s cruel and unusual that he hides this from us.” Swiss takes another hit before passing it back to Rain. 

Rain coughs when he exhales, batting the smoke away from his face, “Why don’t you get him to show you how he does it? You’ve got some earth in you.” Rain takes a drink from the bottle of blackberry wine by his feet, also stolen from Mountain’s stash. 

“Oh believe me rainstorm, I’ve tried. Bastard likes to keep his secrets.” He snatches the bottle from Rain’s hands the moment it’s away from his lips which are now stained a delicious deep red. 

Any protests Rain has die on his tongue when he looks at Swiss. He can’t seem to be annoyed that he’s basically chugging the damn thing, too transfixed watching his throat bob with each gulp. He wants to reach out and touch, feel it move. He wants to lick over his neck and feel Swiss swallow on his tongue. Wants to feel the prickle of his stubble, the sting of fangs. Wants to drown in his sweet and spicy taste, utterly consumed by Swiss. He can’t help it, the weed always gets to him. Rain swears Mountain laces the stuff with aphrodisiacs. It doesn’t help that he can still feel the thrum of energy in his veins through the haze of smoke. He begins to lean closer when a flash of lightning startles him, making him jump back. 

“See something you like, rainstorm?” Swiss laughs and looks towards Rain. His eyes glow when a rumble of thunder shakes the greenhouse. 

They stare at each other for a moment. It's quiet save for the storm and their breathing. Swiss grins and leans in close to him. He stops just a few inches away from Rain’s face. Rain has to cross his eyes to keep staring at him. He can feel his breath. He smells sweet and herbaceous when he opens his mouth, his usual spice covered by the wine. Rain closes his eyes, waiting for the crash of his lips. 

“Your eyes are red,” Swiss giggles before closing the last remaining inches. Only he doesn’t kiss him, he boops his nose to Rain’s and makes a honk noise. He throws his head back with a laugh almost as loud as the thunder outside. Rain huffs and tries to push him away. Swiss doesn’t budge, he’s still laughing as he wraps his hands around Rain’s wrists. He doesn’t try to remove them or push back, he just holds them. 

“Don’t be pouty princess, you know I won’t leave you hanging.” 

“Liar,” Rain snaps his fangs “I can count all the times you’ve stuck your tongue down my throat and then left.” 

Swiss laughs at the same time lighting cracks through the sky. It illuminates him, for a millisecond more of his ghoulish features are visible. 

“What can I say? Sometimes the chase is better than the reward.” Swiss suddenly yanks on Rain’s wrists, causing him to fall forward and practically face plant onto Swiss’ chest, “But not here. You always look so cute with that pretty little blush of yours.” 

Rain hadn’t even realized. He doesn’t feel the heat in his cheeks until Swiss points it out. He can feel it get deeper, spreading down his throat when his brain finally catches up. He feels like he’s burning when Swiss cups his face with both hands to force him to look up. 

“Wanna know why I love coming out here with you and no one else?” 

Rain nods. He can’t find his words. Not when his limbs feel heavy and his mind is fuzzy. Not when Swiss’ eyes burn so bright he swears he can see every elemental color in them. He can’t tell if his mouth is dry from the weed or Swiss’ proximity. He doesn’t even realize his mouth is slightly agape until he feels Swiss rub his thumb over his bottom lip. 

“Because I love seeing you like this. Big bad rainstorm too stupid he can’t even ask for what he wants.” 

Rain swallows, throat clicking as his honey filled mind processes Swiss’ words. He can feel the drool in the corner of his mouth. He knows he needs to say or do something but mind and body refuse to cooperate. He can’t look away from Swiss, he doesn’t want to. He’s only brought back into himself when he feels Swiss’ thumb brush the dribble of drool away. He wants to turn his head, get his fingers into his mouth to suck on them. All he can do is let out a wheezing breath, something more akin to a whine than a sigh. 

Swiss waits. He waits for Rain to do anything. He truly does love it when Rain gets like this. Needy in a way he’d never let himself be completely sober. Always has to be in charge even when he’s on the bottom. He enjoys it when Rain is cruel, but this is special. Little bit of wine, little bit of weed gets him so sensitive. Swiss sometimes wonders if he’s faking all the little whimpers he chokes on. It’s captivating, addicting, watching how everything he knows about Rain gets flipped. 

Rain swallows again. Swiss can feel his throat bob from the hold he has on his cheeks. 

“Gonna say something, princess?” 

“Please…”

“Please what?” Swiss tilts his head, grinning wide. 

Rain’s lips move without the words. He knows what he wants. He wants everything Swiss has to offer. He wants to be distracted from the hum of elemental energy by more than just drugs. But his head is so hazy he can barely get the words out. 

“Lips. Mouth. Kiss…please?” 

Swiss huffs a laugh before pulling him in. It’s soft at first, a simple press of lips. Rain still clings to him like he’s being devoured, hands twisting in Swiss’ tank top. He wants to draw it out, really make Rain shake, but the weed and the weather make his resolve slip. The kiss turns hungry fast, a cycle of pulling back an inch just to press back in. Lips meeting lips over and over again with a satisfying wet click. 

Swiss kisses Rain hard one last time before licking across the seam of his mouth. Rain doesn’t hesitate to let him in, groaning when the tip of Swiss’ tongues swirls around his. Rain feels the bead of Swiss’ piercing slip between the fork in his tongue and he nearly doubles over. He tries to lick into Swiss’ mouth with the same hunger, but it feels like his tongue is made of lead. All he can do is tilt his head, open his mouth a little wider, and let him taste. 

Swiss pulls back just enough to bite Rain’s bottom lip before plunging back in, licking over his fangs. Rain’s cock kicks and he suddenly becomes very aware of how hard he is. He uncurls a hand from Swiss’ tank top in favor of palming himself through the sweats he stole from Cirrus. He gasps into Swiss’ mouth the moment his hand touches his cock. So sensitive even through layers of clothing. 

Swiss knows he shouldn’t, knows Rain will just pout and whine and paw at him until he gives back in. He can’t help himself though. He loves seeing the flash of fear in his eyes, truly believing he won’t give him what he needs with his mind muddled with weed. Swiss grabs Rain’s wrist, holding him still the same moment he pulls away from the kiss. 

“Ah ah ah,” he tuts, “not yet, rainstorm.” 

There it is. The wide, almost panicked look in his eyes. He feels the hand still clutching his tank top tighten, claws scraping against his skin. The sting causes a zap of electricity to shoot down his spine. He gets dizzy with arousal for just a moment. He growls, nearly abandoning his little plan in favor of pouncing on Rain. Maybe Mountain really does lace this stuff? 

It’s a high-pitched whine that brings him back. His eyes refocus, looking down at Rain. His lips are shiny and swollen, parted slightly as he breathes through his mouth in quick short huffs. There’s a pinch between his eyebrows that Swiss can help but reach up and smooth out. 

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna give it to you. There’s just something you have to do first.” 

“Please,” Rain begs, “anything. Please just need you.” 

Swiss smiles and fishes the half-smoked joint out of the tin. He wiggles it in front of Rain’s face. 

“You gotta finish it Rainy. Can’t let Mountain know we were here.” 

He knows Mountain will know. They both do. It’s rare they make it back to the den after a night of going through Mountain’s stash. He’ll find them in the morning when he shows up for his chores. Even if they somehow stumbled back inside, the smell alone is enough to prove their guilt. Swiss doesn’t care. He wants a lap full of stupid, pliant little water ghoul. 

Rain looks between Swiss and the half-finished joint. He blinks slowly, processing Swiss’ request before looking up at him with big eyes. 

“S too much,” he shakes his head, “can’t do it. Too much.” He almost looks like he’s going to cry. 

Lucky for him Swiss isn’t totally heartless. Not tonight at least. He coos and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“It is, isn’t it? Barely had half of one and you’re already brainless.” 

To be fair, he knows he’s not faring much better. He’s not as reactive as Rain, but Mountain’s stuff never fails to make him feel like he’s living in a space between solid and gaseous. Like he’d float away with a too strong breeze. 

Rain nods at his words, a whine escaping his throat. Like one of a dog left in its cage when its owner leaves the house, a sad and broken little noise. Swiss pets through his hair. 

“Don’t worry rainstorm, I’ll help you. But I’m not touching you until we finish it, got it?” 

Rain nods again. Swiss grins and sticks it into Rain’s mouth. His eyes widen momentarily before brings his hand up to hold it. Swiss snaps his fingers and a small flame flickers on his thumb. He holds it close until the end catches, snuffing it with a wave of his hand. Rain takes a deep breath, chest visibly expanding. He blows the smoke directly into Swiss’ face. He can’t tell if it was on purpose or if he’s just that out of it he didn’t even think to turn away. He doesn’t care either way. Rain slumps against him and Swiss moves him so that his ear is pressed against his chest. He keeps one hand around his waist and the other on his thigh. Dangerously close to the bulge in Rain’s sweats. 

Swiss plucks the joint from his lips, taking a quick hit before shoving it back in place. He watches Rain. Watches the way his chest inflates, the way his hand shakes a little. He can’t see his face from this angle, his hair falling in a way that makes it impossible. What he can see, though,  consumes all his attention. His gills. They flutter with every breath he takes, exposing the soft membrane for a millisecond. Every flash of deep cobalt blue makes Swiss’ mouth water. He can just barely make out the little razors that line the inside. He’s totally enraptured watching them ripple minutely. 

The next inhale from Rain is big. Swiss can faintly hear him when he sucks in the smoke. He holds for a moment before letting it out. Swiss’ jaw drops when he watches the smoke pour from his gills. They flare and he’s able to see completely inside of them for however long it takes for Rain to exhale. He swears he can see his throat moving. It makes him dizzy. He leans closer on the next hit, squinting to see if he actually can look into his throat. He can feel the smoke get blown into his face. He’s not touching him, but Rain must be able to sense how close he is because he whines. 

“Thought you said you were gonna help me?” 

Swiss blinks slowly, drawing his attention away from Rain’s gills to formulate a response, “I am. Go ahead rainstorm, I'm right here.” 

When Rain exhales on this one Swiss leans down close. Close enough that Rain can feel it when he sucks in a breath. He shudders when he feels the warmth on his gills when Swiss exhales the smoke. 

“Swiss,” Rain warns. 

Even with his mind totally submerged in honey, Rain knows if Swiss gets his mouth on his gills it’ll be over for him. They’re already sensitive enough when he’s not high. He’s afraid he’ll cum in his pants with the first pass of a tongue. He has cum in pants when he’s with Swiss like this and that was without a clever mouth hovering over his gills. He swallows thickly when he feels Swiss laugh. 

“C'mon finish it Rainy.” 

Rain doesn’t know what else to do but listen. He knows what’s coming. He knows what Swiss is going to do. He inhales and waits, holding out until his lungs ache. He barely has a chance to breathe before he feels Swiss lips wrap around his gills, sucking. He gasps and shudders, hips twitching involuntarily in search of friction. Swiss lifts his head for just a moment, lips brushing over the membrane when he speaks. 

“You’re so close raincloud, finish the damn thing and I’ll give you everything.” 

He dips back down when he feels Rain shift. He sucks in the smoke from his gills once more and the noise Rain lets out makes his cock jump. He doesn’t let go this time, breathing the smoke out of his nose. He licks across the slit just to hear him make that pretty little sound again. 

Rain drops what’s left of the joint with a gasp. His whole body shakes when he feels Swiss’ tongue enter his gills. He couldn’t care less about whatever Swiss told him to do earlier, all he knows is the feeling of the warm, wet appendage. He can feel Swiss’ hand press closer to his cock, but the assault on his gills steals all his attention. 

Swiss is practically making out with them. He sucks on them before dipping his tongue inside as far as it’ll comfortably go. The other hand, the one on Rain’s waits, slips under his shirt. His fingertips brush gently over the gills on his abdomen making Rain moan loud and wanton. He slips the tips of his fingers inside with practiced ease, muscle memory helping him avoid the tiny razors. He pets at the inside membrane and Rain sobs. 

“Please touch me, Swiss. Need it, it hurts. Please.” He’s shaking. He sounds pathetic. He doesn’t care. Not as long as Swiss wraps one of his massive hands around his dripping cock. 

Swiss laughs, speaking into his gills. The vibration drives Rain crazy, “I am touching you, princess.” 

Rain weakly tries to pull the hand that’s under his shirt away. Tries to pull it down to cup the tent in his sweats. It doesn’t even budge. Rain can feel the grin spread across his lips. 

“I told you, didn't I? I wasn’t going to touch you unless you finished the whole thing. Did you?” 

Rain looks at the joint on the ground. It’s almost laughable how close he was to the end. He hiccups, sob catching in his throat.

“No.” 

Swiss hums and shoves his tongue and fingers back into Rain’s gills at the same time. He chokes out a broken little moan. 

“But what oh what about me?” 

“Well,”

Lick 

“You’ll either cum from this,” 

Lick

“Or you won’t.” 

Swiss shoves his fingers in just a bit deeper and Rain keens. He can’t take it. He’s so hard it hurts. He can feel the wet patch that soaked through the front of his sweats. He’ll have to wash them before giving them back to Cirrus. With shaky hands, he pulls the waistband of his pants and boxers down just enough to pull his cock out. He shudders when hot skin meets cool air. He’s slick and shiny, wet from the copious amounts of pre he had started leaking since Swiss kissed him. He gives in to Swiss. He slumps his entire body weight onto him, closing his eyes with a sigh at the same time he wraps his hand around his dick. 

He gets lost in it. The feeling of Swiss practically eating out his gills. At the feeling of him fingering the gills on his abdomen. He jerks himself in quick little strokes, trying to go at the same pace as Swiss’ tongue and failing. He’s vaguely aware of the feeling of Swiss rutting against his back, but it’s hard to focus on anything with his brain effectively turned to mush. If he turns his attention to Swiss at his gills then his movements turn sloppy, barely providing any sense of relief. If he focuses on stroking himself then he’s not as aware of the assault on his gills. In a brief moment of clarity, he vows to never touch Mountain’s shit again. A promise he’s made a million times. One he’ll continue to break. 

He lets out a broken gasp when he feels Swiss’ unoccupied hand wrap around his cock. He gives him no time to process, no time to question. He strokes him fast, fist twisting over his head with each pass. He couldn’t take it anymore. The sweet little sounds spilling from Rain’s lips became too much. He needed to watch him cum, needed him to make a mess so Swiss could lick it up and taste him. Rain is utterly helpless to it. Swiss has every part of him. All he can do is whine and whimper and attempt to buck up to meet Swiss on the down stroke. He can feel his slick dripping down his cock and into his sweats, can feel it soaking his balls and his thighs. 

Swiss presses his thumb into the sensitive skin on the underside of his head at the same time he plunges his tongue into his gills as far as it’ll go. Rain can feel him in his throat. It’s too much, it’s all too much. He cums with a shout, high-pitched and feminine. Swiss slows his movements but doesn’t stop stroking him. Milking him for everything he has. He doesn’t stop until Rain’s crying turns from relief to pain. Swiss pulls his tongue and fingers from his gills, pressing sweet little kisses to his jaw. He mutters praise in between each press of his lips. He holds Rain tight against him, not entirely sure he’ll be able to keep himself upright if he lets go. He rocks them gently. The only sound that fills the greenhouse is Rain’s pants and the storm outside. Eventually, he catches his breath enough to speak. He says the only thing that comes to mind. 

“You touched me.” 

Swiss laughs as loud as thunder, “Had to make sure you caught up.” 

Rain furrows his brow before slowly turning in Swiss’ hold to face him. His body shakes as he moves, groping the front of Swiss’ lounge shorts. His falls open, a brief moment of shock before he giggles. Swiss grunts when he squeezes, smearing the mess in his pants over his spent dick. 

“Don’t give me that look. Not when you just soaked half of Mounty’s mattress.” 

Rain slumps his head forward to rest on Swiss’ shoulder, “You like it.” 

“Damn right.” He kisses Rain’s temple before bringing his hand up and popping each of his fingers into his mouth one by one. He sucks Rain’s spend off, groaning when the taste of petrichor and sea salt hits his tongue. 

Rain is asleep by the time Swiss licks the mess off his hand. He huffs a quiet laugh before lying down, keeping Rain on top of his chest. He rubs up and down his back, until he starts purring. Swiss is quick to follow him after that, closing his eyes and giving in to the pleasant haze in his head. 

It’s a bright and sunny morning. The exact opposite of what yesterday was. Everything has a shine to it, still wet from the storm that raged all night long. Rain is awake, but he hasn’t opened his eyes. He’s warm from the sunlight streaming into the greenhouse. The rise and fall of Swiss’ breathing comforting. His head still feels a bit fuzzy, but nothing like the previous evening. He’s content to lay there all day, but his ear twitches at the sound of a snuffle. He cracks an eye open only to see Mountain standing above them, arms crossed and a neutral expression. He snuffles again, nostrils flaring. 

Rain elbows Swiss in the ribs. He jumps with a groan. 

“Too early. Go bed.” Swiss rolls over causing Rain to scramble off him. 

“Swiss wake up!” He hisses. 

“Whaaaaaaat?” He sits up, blinking slowly. 

When he finally opens his eyes all he sees is Mountain. He practically jumps up, rolling off the mattress to kneel on the dirt floor. He puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Hey Mount. Funny seeing you here we were just—“ 

“You have five seconds to run.” 

Rain and Swiss exchange a quick look before bolting up and running. Rain stumbles, nearly tripping but he catches himself and keeps going. Mountain watches them through the glass. Rain sprints to the lake, Swiss back towards the Ministry. 

Mountain cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders as he walks towards the door, humming a tune only he knows. 

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

GOOD NIGHT KISS!

their bedtime routines with you

gender neutral reader

BACHIRA MEGURU!

midnight snacks!

It becomes a night time ritual of sorts, for you to be all ready to hop into bed and go to sleep, only to hear some kind of odd rustling in the kitchen. And without fail, you always find your boyfriend in there cooking up a storm: drizzling sugar and honey onto whatever concoction he’s created. You know Bachira needs to eat a lot to keep his energy up; not only is he still a growing teenager, he’s also a full-time athlete and someone with a horribly insatiable sweet tooth. But you have to give him credit for his skills—no matter how empty your fridge seems, Bachira finds a way to craft something up without fail. And whenever you come out to investigate his latest masterpiece, he’s eager to share it with you. He claims things taste better when you’re there to indulge in them with him!

A sickeningly sweet scent hits your nose when you shuffle out of your shared bedroom with Bachira, and you can’t help but let out a defeated laugh when you see him cheerfully cooking up a large stack of waffles in the kitchen. In good Bachira-fashion, every inch of those waffles are drenched in sticky syrup and covered all over with a generous helping of whipped cream. 

“This many waffles at this hour?” You slide into a seat, and Bachira glances up from the batch he’s cooking to grin at you. 

“Yup! Got hungry. I saw a box mix in the pantry when I was digging around, and I just knew I needed to have some!” He explains sheepishly. “Do you want a fork? You’re welcome to them, you know.”

“I’ll steal a bite later.” You eye the big stack slightly and glance up at Bachira. “You shouldn’t eat too much before bed though! You’ll get a stomach ache if you eat too many sweets. Or a cavity, even.”

He puffs his cheeks out and shoots his best puppy eyes at you, his plump lips curling into a boyish pout. “But I’m hungry! You wouldn’t want your boyfriend to go to bed with a growling stomach, would you? That’s mean!”

“Hey, I’m only trying to look after you,” you chuckle as you put your hands up in a defensive display. “Although I guess you’ve always been better at digesting sweets than anyone else I know.”

“I deserve a little treat before bed!” He flips over the waffle maker, letting out a dreamy exhale at the scent of dough and vanilla wafting through the kitchen. “It gives me the energy to work hard at playing soccer! And it’s fun to make all these snacks! Especially when you’re here to eat them with me.”

“Well, let’s not take too long,” you murmur. “I’m sleepy, and all I need right now is some cuddles before bed.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n!” Bachira brightens up. “One serving of waffles and cuddles coming up real soon, made specially just for you!”

YUKIMIYA KENYU!

skincare!

Yukimiya’s surprisingly humble about his job as a model, but as quiet as he stays about it, you know he takes his gig seriously. He always takes his time in the shower, making sure his hair curls just right, and the array of lotions and creams he has on his nightstand is always dizzying to count. But if there’s one thing he’s a stickler for, it’s including you in his little routines. He thinks it’s adorable to do his skincare with you, and you can always catch the hint of a smile when he offers to test out a scrub he’s bought on you or to try matching face masks together. Although lately, you’ve noticed that Yukimiya’s been insistent on seeing how much softer your skin’s gotten by kissing you all over—totally to figure out which products work best!

“It tickles, Kenyu!” You can barely keep yourself from wiggling in your seat. Your boyfriend’s face is scrunched up in concentration as he carefully applies an ivory-colored moisturizer to your cheeks and neck. He’s told you to stay still multiple times, but whenever you feel his fingers rubbing slow circles into your skin, you keep getting all giddy and giggly. 

“I’m trying my best to do this quickly,” he protests. His tongue sticks out between his lips slightly, and his forehead is scrunched up in concentration as he swirls another helping of cream to your face. You bite back a loud chuckle, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around dangerously. He shakes his head endearingly when he sees you choke back a laugh. “But I can only go so fast if you keep squirming!”

“Hey, I can’t help it!” You swing your legs on the little bath stool Yukimiya has you seated on. “You’d get all ticklish too if someone as cute as you was getting all close and handsy!”

The dark-haired boy raises a cheeky eyebrow, and his orange eyes lock onto yours with a playful glint at your words. His fingers trace the delicate outline of your face, and your heart skips a beat when you feel his fingertips ghost over the edge of your lips.

“You think I’m being handsy? I’m barely touching you,” he whispers, the tone of his voice suddenly low and electric. You swallow nervously, the jitters inside your ribcage flaring up even more. 

He grins, setting down the small pot of moisturizer. “I’ll show you what me ‘being handsy’ really is then, love. Maybe that’ll help you with being ticklish… Is that alright?”

SENDOU SHUTO!

kisses before bed!

Sendou has a horribly needy streak. He can’t help it—he’s used to being the ace of the (now former) Japanese U20 team, and he’s always dreamt of having a lover that would fawn and obsess over him as much as he does. He likes it when you indulge his romantic fantasies a little, and he gets awfully clingy whenever he’s sleepy and it’s time for bed. No matter what the mood is, Sendou swears he can’t sleep properly if you aren’t there to give him a kiss before he goes to bed. You two could be in the middle of a heated argument or cracking jokes; he isn’t letting you roll over and snooze until he’s gotten his allotted amount of attention from you. He’ll blush and get all shy asking you for a kiss, but the bashful grin he has afterwards makes it all worth it.

“Hey.” Something pokes at your side, and you grumble, swatting absentmindedly as your mind clings to the strains of sleep threatening to overtake you. You whine loudly, wanting to go back to the comfort of your pillow, but another poke at your ribcage jostles you back awake.

You crack your eyes open, clearly disgruntled. “What do you want, Sendou?”

“A good night kiss,” he sheepishly replies. Your eyes adjust to the lighting as your boyfriend wraps his arms around your waist, slipping under the covers to take his place next to you in bed. “I ask you for one every night. Don’t tell me that you don’t remember our little bedtime ritual?”

You blink at him. Oh. Right. He looks so pathetic, lips pulled into a slight pout as he shoots his best attempt at puppy eyes at you. Could you believe that this man was someone who was on a national Japanese soccer team? The one that believed he had enough charisma to pull a Hollywood actress?

“Sorry,” you reply, reaching over to fluff up his hair. You thought dating a soon-to-be professional soccer player would mean more glam and spotlight, but all you got in return was a wet dog of a boyfriend who followed you around at the heel if you didn’t devote enough time to him. Not that you minded—frankly speaking, you liked knowing that you held so much power over him. “I got sleepy, and I must have dozed off while you were getting ready.”

“Well, now’s the perfect time to give me one,” Sendou sings, and he sticks his face out. You roll your eyes, but you still reach over to press your lips gently against his, savoring the way the boy immediately melts into your touch. You make it quick, and when you pull away, Sendou giggles happily and settles down to spoon you from behind.

“Happy now, Mr. I’m-going-to-marry-a-Hollywood-actress?” You tease gently. You don’t need to be looking at him to know that he’s going to be pouting at you again, and Sendou buries his head into your shoulder.

“I’ll be happier once you let that stupid nickname go,” he murmurs into your skin. His hair brushes against your jawline, and he twists his head to kiss your cheek. “But as long as I’m with you, I’d say I’m pretty happy.”

MICHAEL KAISER!

lets you steal his robe!

Kaiser stands on top of the world. He takes pleasure in destroying and knowing that he’s superior to everyone who dares stand before his path. Despite knowing this and knowing that no one could hold a candle to the man that he is, Kaiser’s rendered completely useless and lovestruck when it comes to his stupid crush on you. You could spit in his face and call him stupid, and he knows he’d go skipping off to Ness twirling his hair and blushing. Luckily for him, you found some part in your heart to love him back, and you take advantage of it every night when you steal his bathrobe and snuggle up in it. It smells like him, and you have no issue dozing off in how big and fluffy it is. 

“Darling.”

You keep to your side in your bed, grinning to yourself as you settle deeper into the fluff of his expensive robe. Was there anything better than this? Being all cozy and ready for bed, buried in a mountain of pillows and blankets, topped off with what you swore was the fuzziest robe known to mankind.

“Darling,” Kaiser whines again, tugging at your blanket burrito. “Darling, I’m freezing out here.”

“That’s what you get for trying to go to bed shirtless.” You don’t even bat an eyelash. Kaiser whimpers like a wounded dog, curling up next to your blanket fort in nothing but his boxers. You knew that he fully intended on having his bathrobe to warm him up, but when he wasn’t paying attention, you had run off with it instead. 

And if you were in any other mood, you would have stroked Kaiser’s ego a bit. You would have coaxed the robe off of him by gushing over his tattoo, getting him all smug and conceited just so you could steal your boyfriend’s pajamas off of his shoulders. Either way, you fully intended on leaving him shivering next to you while you indulged in the warmth.

“I’m going to catch a cold!” Kaiser dramatically bemoans. He flops down next to you, slapping a hand over his forehead and everything. “My own partner doesn’t love me anymore! I’ll die cold and hungry and shivering with illness. No one cares about me anymore-”

“-Oh, shut it,” you cut him off and unravel part of your blanket. Any sign of Kaiser’s “illness” quickly disappears as he leaps into your arms, sticking his body right up against yours as the layers of cloth envelop him in much welcomed warmth.

“Is that better?” You ask, letting him cling to you like a koala. He lays his head on your shoulder, nodding contently. You fight the urge to pinch him for being so clingy and theatrical, but he looks so happy swaddled in your arms that you don’t have it in your heart to be mean.

“Much better,” he purrs. “I’m all ready to go to bed now. If we sleep this close together, do you think we’ll dream of each other? I’d love to think about my sweet darling fast asleep, dreaming about me… How romantic!”

You grit your teeth. “I’ll kick you out back into the cold, you twat.”

“So mean!”

x

[brighttears]

hi! back again with another request, i hope that’s ok! if not then totally ignore this. For the request: could we get a jealous reader? Im always seeing Fics where Joel is jealous and would like to see that changed up! Maybe she sees Joel hanging around another woman more his age and she gets insecure, idk it’s totally up to you how it happens. if you do take this request then thank you so much, if it’s not something you’re interested in writing then that’s ok too and thank you for your fics!! <3

Joel Miller x reader

No physical description except for having hair, leaning fem but no pronouns or explicit mentions, no use of y/n 

Warnings: age-gap, mentions of sex, drinking, Angst (happy ending), pet names (honey), you have a big fight :,(

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: omg love this idea. Thank you for the request you’re so sweet and I’m happy to do them !! helps so much with writer's block plus I get to do cool stuff like this lol. This was challenging so I hope it doesn't disappoint :P

P.s. if any of yall’s name is Emily i apologize just replace it with the name of someone you hate lol

—

Even from all the way across the bar, you’re burning up, watching the way the woman in front of Joel twirls her hair and flashes her teeth when she laughs over enthusiastically at his jokes. Thankfully his back is to you so you can’t be tortured by whatever his expression—or wherever he’s looking—may be. 

Ever since you got to Jackson women have been crowding Joel like he’s the only man on the commune and it’s been driving you up the wall. You want to go over and give Joel a big wet kiss and tell her to fuck off, but you and him have never had a discussion about ‘us’, so you have no real right to claim him. Still, it burns, and that woman, Emily, as you’ve come to learn her name, as Joel’s number one fan, has such a punchable face. A matching burn of the whisky from your glass is welcomed down to your stomach.

When she leans forward, showing off the goods, you can’t stand it anymore, down the dregs of your drink and storm out of the Tipsy Bison. The icy breeze cools you down some but you’re in no way calm once you’re back at the house. Stomping up to your room—you and Joel’s room, you strip your jacket and immediately grab your gun to deep clean. Icey pain drips from your heart down into the crater of lava in your chest and it hisses in your ears.

Sitting at the head of the bed, you’re almost done with the fourth cleaning when Joel’s recognizable stomps sound with the creaking and slam of the front door. You continue to clean, not looking up when he comes in. 

“Hey,” he says breathily, innocently. 

“Hm. I’m surprised you even came home.” you reply, still not looking up. Still aflame, you keep a mostly even tone but Joel easily catches the pointy edges. 

He pauses, then finishes kicking off his boots to straighten up and turn to you, “An’ why’s that?”

“I mean I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow morning on your walk of shame from Emily’s house.” you keep your focus on the final wipe down of your gun.

“What?” 

“What? Can’t blame me, I saw her eyefucking you. Basically shaking her tits in your face, too. Didn’t stay long though, it was actually kind of fucking gross.” 

“Beg your fuckin’ pardon?”

“Oh, don’t act stupid.” you finally meet his gaze, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Go fuck whoever you want. I guess it’s none of my business. Would have been nice to know that that was the deal here before we started sharing an actual bed, though.” you go back to overpolishing the metal, trying to act nonchalant, but your chest is full of mud. 

“What makes you think I’m goin’ around fuckin’ other women?” 

“Well, now that you’ve got the pick of the litter, why settle for me?” you finally place your gun down loudly on the nightstand. 

Joel raises his voice in sternness, “What the fuck r’you talkin’ about?”  

You take a deep breath through your nose, refusing to let your anger go, but the icey, tight pain is tearing at your heart and you can’t stop it from piercing through your voice when you say, “I just—I just thought it was me, I thought it was me you wanted.”

“What—’course you’re—where’s all this comin’ from?” 

You stand to face him and scoff, “Please, you think I don’t see the way the women here have been looking at you? They drool all over you, and you just let them, you throw ‘em a smile.” you voice is teeming with attitude, “Never saying a word to me about it. What is it, are you ashamed of me? I have to be your little secret? I’m just some young—some young…” you stop yourself before you finish a sentence you know you’ll regret, no matter how much you want to stick him with it, but it’s too late.

Joel steps one foot towards you and shoves his finger out, glowering, “Good call not finishin’ that sentence.” he growls, “I don’t know who the fuck you’re talkin’ to though cause it sure as hell ain’t me.”

You pick your fire right back up, “I thought maybe I’d be good enough but there's things I don’t have, huh? Need a woman more your speed? Well, you’re free to let Emily fuck you better, just please don’t bring her back here, okay?” you end it with your voice drenched in sarcasm.

It’s Joel’s turn to scoff now, “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? I don’t give a shit about Emily! I’m not fuckin’ her! Wh—” Joel narrows his eyes, “You tryin’ to say I’m a cheater? Is that it? That's what you think a me?” 

“N–no,” you stutter, suddenly realizing that that is what you’re accusing him of. 

Near shouting, he continues, “You don’t trust me. That's what this is about.” 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you move towards him but he steps back.

“How the hell else am I supposed’t take that?”

“I’m just scared.” the confession jumps out of you.

“Scared of what?” he shouts.

“Of you leaving me!” your voice breaks and you choke back the onset of a sob, but Joel loses no venom.

“You’re scared of me leaving? After all this time—after everything, you think I’m—I’d—I don’t want to leave you! Talkin’ to Emily, I was just tryin’ t’be fuckin’ polite, be,” he takes another step towards you, “social, that’s all! You think I can’t talk to women without tryna get in their pants? Is that really the kinda man you think I am? Should I stop talkin’ to Maria, too? Cause I’m such a piece a shit cheater I’m probably tryna get at her, too, huh? My own brother's wife? That’s what you think a me?” 

“No,” you nearly scream, hitting your hands to your head to grab at your hair, “that’s not what I mean, that’s not what I’m trying to say!”

“Then what are you trying to say?” He yells back.

Your chest is starting to heave, beginning to be overwhelmed with emotion, but you try to keep it under control, not wanting to break down in the middle of an argument. “I just hate seeing it! I hate seeing the women here fucking crawling all over you like cats in heat and you just fucking take it, like you want it, you want them, not me, now that I’m not the only option, you’ve got all these pretty women just waiting for you to knock on their fucking door, and I was just—just—”

“What, just some young pussy?” Joel snarls.

“No one that mattered! No one special! And all of it was empty, all the words, the sex, the time we shared, I was just a placeholder for a proper woman, cause I’m not good enough, was never good enough for you…” your voice shatters as the whirling in your head and heart overcomes you and you step back until the back of your knees hit the bed, then flump down and put your head in your hands, trying not to sob.

Instinctually, Joel comes to kneel before you, his anger beginning to melt away when his attention shifts to you in pain. He takes your wrists to uncover your face, saying nothing, only focusing your eyes and his, now gentle, as you continue to try to control your jumping breaths. After a few moments of you unsuccessfully calming yourself, Joel moves his hand to stroke your cheek, over the side of your face, into your hair. When your breathing has calmed some, he looks over your face and wipes away the few escaped tears. “I hate it when you cry but you look so pretty when you do.” he tells you, soft and quiet, pulling a small laugh out of you. Once your inhales and exhales are at an even pace, he speaks up again, with a soothing tone, “Okay. Now I’ve calmed down, n’ you’ve calmed down.” he takes a deep breath and you do with him, like you’ve learned to, before he continues, “I know all a that was just outta anger. N’ we’re just not at an understandin’ here… Honey I’m in love with you.” 

His words make you take a deep, post-cry shuddering breath. Remembering you have to say something back, you whisper, “I’m in love with you, too.”

After a few silent but full moments with Joel stealing glances at your lips, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod your head as you’re already leaning in as a response. Your lips essentially smash together, want igniting in both of you. You lean forward until he’s on the floor and you’re sitting on top of him, both hands holding his face while one of his clutches your hip and the other slides over your jaw and into your hair. Then Joel pushes you up and onto the bed, nosing into your neck from above you, sticking wet kisses all up and down it while your hands tangle in his hair. He slows and drags kisses back up to your mouth. Sounding drunk, Joel finds time between your mouths to say “Don’ want no one else.”

Between kisses you continue to converse, “So can I punch Emily in the face?”

“Mmm, I don't think Maria would like that very much. Why don’tcha just give me a big sloppy kiss next time she won't leave me th' fuck alone?”

“I can do that. Can we hold hands?”

“Yeah we can do that. Can I squeeze yer ass?”

“Only when someone’s looking. You can do it when they're not either but I would prefer if you did it while you know one of those alley cat’s watchin’.”

“Mhm. Every time. Let em’ all know.”

“You know, you’re gonna have a lot less friends once I scare all of them away.”

“Fuckin’ fine by me. I got everyone I need already.”

[satoruzlove]

dilf atsumu..😔

- tsum is about 37, reader is 21, mildly suggestive , rly fluffy, tsum has a little son, divorce, cuddles and touching

dilf atsumu who has the sweetest smile lines , from a smile he used to charm every lady in the neighborhood

dilf atsumu who’s a real natural with kids, always kneeling down to any little one he sees and greeting them with a ‘hey there, kiddo’ or, ‘nice to meet you, baby. i’m mr miya.’

dilf atsumu who wishes his ex wife all the best when she decides to split , and needs a hand with his kiddo. that’s where you, his adorable babysitter, come in

you’re a college student and he’s friends with someone who knows you- you were just looking for a little side hustle. atsumu and his baby boy were a perfect fit!!

dilf atsumu who welcomes you so warmly on the first day, hugging you even, large hands rubbing up your back and introducing you to his son; a carbon copy of himself.

dilf atsumu who’s heart swells when he sees how much the little one loves you, and sometimes joins your little play dates together.

dilf atsumu who asks you to stay the night when it’s storming, leaving you to the guest room. when you can’t sleep you toddle downstairs and curl up to a movie

the athlete spots you and joins you, how couldn’t he? his darling babysitter , who does so much for him and his baby, all alone? not on his keen, sharp watch.

he nearly sits down with you, not before grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses. his lean thighs are spread wide as he pours for you first.

the night goes on and the movie is long forgotten between giggles and slurs of the tongue - your boss’s eyes blown by the amount of alcohol you’ve consumed. more than half the bottle was gone. poof. atsumu was having the time of his life with you.

his cheek propped on his fist, wine glass in the other hand, he giggled as you tried to narrate your first day on campus. the day you fell into the pond, were almost late to a very important class and nearly got set alight. the man let out a bark of laughter when you hicced helplessly.

big, calloused palms rest on your cheeks as he sets his now empty glass down. “ c’mon, lover,” he mumbles, “‘s late for you to be up, no? let me get you to bed, you sadly have class tomorrow,” atsumu said, hoisting you up. your weight felt comforting against him, but not enough for you to walk stably up the winding stairs of his gorgeous home.

he picks you up, your legs firmly around his little waist. you giggle, hands small wound on his neck. your nimble thumbs rubbing on the skin, you slur, “ s- hic- sumu, i can walk,” and it earns a shake of his head. “ you cant even talk, and i got you drunk. let me take care of you for once,alright?”

even as he climbs the stairs with you in hand he doesn’t falter. you’re lighter than a feather. as he reaches the guest room you feel sad, a pout on your lips when he tries to set you down. you resist, hands balling up in his cotton black tee and doe eyes gleaming up at him. he pauses. never has he taken the time , nor had it, to look into your eyes. soft, affectionate, maternal. all things he’s seen in you. the faux blond smoothes your hair and coos to you like he would his own child. “‘m gonna put you to sleep, ‘kay? that’s all. nothing else.” he says. you know he’s only trying to convince himself at this point as he climbs into the little bed with you, face so close to yours. your head rests on his chest, the same adorning eyes looking up at him. his own honey- glazed gaze is hooded with love, desire even.

everything stops for a moment. the way your lips are stained a deep red from the wine and are parted is like the ancient latin scrawled across decayed paper, tucked into a tomb and sacred. his only mantra and the thing that leads his every movement. your eyelashes flutter, hands propping up your weight- and you do everything for your boss. you kiss him softly first, a mesh of little pecks. atsumu feels blood rush to his head as his hands knead at the bone of your hip, thumbs stroking your thigh.

his skin burns, it’s hot to the touch. there’s a firey dance of nervousness under it, buzzing and bubbling that fuels his movement. his hands snake under your shirt , now squeezing your waist. he feels dizzy when you pull away, a little saliva connecting you. keeping you together. the sight makes him ache, yearn for you more.

a drunken giggle leaves you,“ thought you were putting me to sleep, mr miya?”

“maybe..” he trails off, his palms guiding you by the back of your head so your lips are centimetres away from his,

“ maybe another way, little one.”

[finalgirleddiemunson]

Don’t Mention It (Steve Harrington x Reader)

summary: some mornings are bad mornings, and they’re filled with memories. Steve and you work through them together. (wc 1.3k)

warnings: angst, past trauma mentions, non-sexual nudity

a/n: had a moment where i thought about how how everything that steve has gone through often gets played for laughs and got so upset i wrote this. it kinda reads more loose than a typical narrative structure, my b

masterlist

----

Steve showers in the morning. 

In high school, he used to shower at night. To wash the pool chlorine and layers of the day off of his skin. 

But then things went bump in the night too often, too frequently. You and him both know now that the darkness can hide something more than bad dreams or phantasmal shapes. 

Sometimes it’s difficult to fall asleep tucked into bed safe and sound. Much less be vulnerable and relaxed underneath the shower- where the stream of water hitting against the tile blocks the noise of something that could be creeping nearby.

So, yes. Steve showers in the morning now. You don’t mention it. 

Just like he doesn’t mention how you check the doors and windows twice every night, flipping locks back and forth that you know were already secured but you just had to be sure. One last time. 

He leans on the doorway to the kitchen of your shared apartment and watches you go through your routine every night though. He’s gotten used to reassuring you beneath the covers that Yes, baby, you locked the windows. I watched you do it, I promise. You can go to sleep. 

Just like he doesn’t mention how you keep his old bat placed under the bed, in the same way that old lovers place dried roses or sleeping satchels filled with herbs beneath pillows. An extra omen that helps you both sleep. 

It’s the sound of the water running that wakes you, as it does most mornings. 

The bathroom door is open, letting the steam from the shower spill out and into the bedroom, carrying with it that clean and cologne-like smell of Steve’s body wash. 

As you wake, scrubbing sleep from your eyes and wetting dry lips, you come into awareness slowly. There’s a distinct lack of humming coming from the bathroom this morning. 

Another thing you don’t mention- the sign of a storm that only you know how to navigate. 

On the good days, Steve sings. When you first got together, you imagined that Steve would sing off-tune and loudly, a joke played for laughs. Your years together have found you pleasantly wrong in that assumption. In the confines of your shared bathroom, Steve sings like he was always meant to do it- perfect pitch and everything. It only makes you slightly envious at times.

But, most of the time he hums. Little tunes, songs he’s heard on the radio, whatever is stuck in his head. He scrubs shampoo from his hair and hums the song that was playing over his car radio when he asked you to be his girlfriend, or the song you danced to in the kitchen last night, or some new rock song that Dustin showed him that Steve swears he hates. The point of the matter is, most of the time Steve hums. 

On the bad days, there’s silence. Music does not drift out with the steam from the shower, only quiet. 

The lack of music today fills your lungs, viscous and hefty in its meaning. 

You pad to the bathroom and make your steps purposefully heavy. I’m here, it’s just me. You make sure the hinges squeak as you push the door open unnecessarily wider. Don’t worry, don’t be scared. I’m not sneaking up on you, nothing is here. 

You run the water in the sink, brush your teeth and make a big show of it even though the curtain on the shower is still closed. You do this on the bad days. Hedge in closer, palms open, slow and steady. 

When you’ve drawn out your morning routine as long as you can is when you finally speak. “Good morning, honey.”

It takes a moment, but the quiet croak of Steve’s voice rings out above the running water, “Morning, sweetheart.”

You wait, give him the opportunity to say anything else before you take your next step. “Do you mind if I join you?” You keep your tone light, as though the idea just occurred to you. As though this isn’t, in itself, a part of the routine that both of you play. 

“Please,” Steve responds and the cracked relief in his voice spurs you into action. 

You don’t bother to gather your shed clothes and place them out of the way. You just pull them off and drop them onto the tile as quickly as you’re able. 

When you step into the temporary sauna that Steve has made with the scalding water, you’re met with the sight of his back. The tan expanse of skin, dotted with freckles and moles that you’ve traced over a thousand times, now with water cascading down the muscles. 

Your first touch is just your fingertips along his arm. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. 

And when his shoulders crumple in on themselves just a little at the touch, you’re quick to curl your hand around his bicep, turning him in place to face you. 

You tuck yourself into the space beneath his chin, let his wet hair rain droplets down onto the top of your head and your shoulders. His body shields you from the brunt of the shower, but you hope that between you and the heat of the water he can find something to ground him. You splay your hands wide against his back as you hug him closer. Come back to me. 

You don’t mention it when he shudders above you, takes in rasping breaths as he presses his face into the top of your head. You just let him cry, swaying gently on your feet to rock him. 

You don’t mention it when the water begins to run colder and colder- until the tears give way to chattering teeth and you take his hands to lead him out of the shower. You set him down and wrap a towel around his body. 

You don’t mention that daylight is streaming in through the windows of your bedroom, that the darkness can’t reach you two here with blue skies and sunshine at your door. You both know that would be a lie anyways. 

All you can do is hold him. You give him soft clothes, loungewear that he wears around the house, and he dresses himself in mechanical movements. You do your best to keep touching him throughout it all.

“It helps,” He had whispered to you one night when sleep evaded your household. “When I’m like that. Just knowing you’re there. It helps.”

You had kissed his collarbone, an acknowledgment of his bravery. “I wish it didn’t get like that,” he murmured into the darkness. 

“I know. But I’ll always be here, when it does. And I know that you’ll be there for me, when I get like that. ” 

He had rubbed a hand up and down your spine at your words, his own acknowledgement. Neither of you slept much that night. 

Now, even with the cheery, morning light coming through the curtains, you both crawl back beneath the covers. You plaster yourself against Steve, the length of your body fitted against his. You keep a hand against his chest, feel the steady thump of his heartbeat under your palm. 

Hear this thing? You want to scream to the sky, to the Upside Down, to every last thing that made him scared of the dark. It means that Steve Harrington is alive, despite it all. And you can’t take him from me. 

Instead you just hold him. 

Steve returns to his body slowly, pieces clicking into place until at last the grip he has around you tightens with awareness. His muscles uncoil, a recognition of his safety. 

“I love you,” He says.

“I love you more.”

You don’t mention that you already know his response-

“Not possible.”

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Life After

Summary: After taking on Chuck, the reader wakes up in a bedroom she doesn’t recognize in September 1984. Only now she’s a small child and has no idea what is going on. When she finds out the Winchesters live across the street, things get even stranger...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,300ish

Warnings: language

A/N: I wrote this quite a while ago (pre-finale awhile ago) when one of my theories for the show ending would involve a time reset. A bit of a different read than my usual stuff!

______

A large boom made your eyes fly open. You sat up, finding yourself in a dark bedroom. You took a deep breath, brain trying to decide on processing what was in front of you and what had just happened.

It went with the later for the moment, eyes closing once more. Your big epic battle with Chuck, saving the world from ending, taking out the big bad of big bads. You knew it had happened. You remembered the day of. Everyone prepared for the worst, knowing that none of you were making it out alive. 

For a split second you allowed yourself to take in the bedroom. Perhaps it was a memory and you were in heaven. But it didn’t look familiar and the loud thunder outside the window didn’t seem like a particularly happy memory if it was one. Something was nagging at you though that you hadn’t died. You threw back the covers and swung your legs over the side of the bed, wide eyed when you took in the sight.

A pair of very short legs with pink and purple unicorn pajamas were somehow attached to you. You glanced down, a short sleeve purple shirt with another unicorn on it, your arms tiny. You pulled down the right side of your pants and your shirt up, no anti-possession tattoo on your hip. 

“What the fuck,” you whispered, eyes adjusting to the darkness more. You spotted a lamp on a nightstand and switched it on. Immediately you sat back against the pillows, swallowing hard as you saw the white bedspread, the lavender walls, stuffed animals in a pile in the corner, a small bookcase of toys and games and what looked like Dr. Seus books. “Oh no.”

You looked around the room and got up, finally exiting it and finding yourself in a dim hallway, the sound of TV going downstairs. You swallowed again and saw an open door to a bathroom. There was a step stool in front of the vanity as you climbed up, finally able to look at yourself.

Your very much five year old self.

“Oh, what the fuck,” you said, quickly hopping off the stool and rushing out the door, heading for the stairs. You went down them quickly, looking around a moment before you spotted a front door.

“Y/N,” you heard from down a hall, a man holding a beer walking over with a tired smile. “That is the third time tonight you’ve snuck down after bedtime. I told you, it’s just a storm, kiddo.”

“I-” you said before he set the beer down on a front table and he picked you up, resting you on his hip.

“Honey. Please go to bed for daddy? Please?” he asked as he carried you up the stairs and down the hall towards your room.

“O-okay,” you said, figuring playing along for the moment was the best move. The guy definitely wasn’t your dad and you had no idea where the fuck you were. If you were indeed only five, you were going to need a better game plan before you snuck off. He sat you down on your bed and pulled the covers over you, kissing your forehead before he turned off the light. “Dad?”

“Yeah, Y/N?” he asked quietly.

“How old am I?” you asked.

“Are you excited for your birthday tomorrow?” he teased. “Is that why you’re up so much tonight, cutie?”

“Uh, huh?” you said, the man smiling as he sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re turning five tomorrow. All your friends from school are gonna come over so you better stay upstairs and let mommy and me finish wrapping your birthday presents, alright?”

“Okay,” you said. You got a hug from him and it felt...nice. Maybe it was some kind of dream or something but you were nearly positive that you’d all shown up to face off against Chuck. Hadn’t that been the end of you? 

Hadn’t you died? Or if you’d lived...wouldn’t you still be an adult?

You gave your apparent father a forced smile as he left the room and pulled your door shut. You slumped back against the soft bed, glancing over to the window, the storm raging outside. 

You needed to figure out what the hell was going on and fast.

You groaned as you woke up the next morning, the sun filtering in. You sighed and pushed back the covers, throwing your head back when you caught a small calendar on the wall.

“No, no,” you whined. 

The stark red 1984 stared at you violently on the page and you wanted to cry, unbelievably so. You wanted Dean and Sam and Cas and Jack. You wanted the boys. You wanted it to be 2020. You wanted to go home to your bed and the bunker and be okay again.

Then it hit you that apparently it was 1984. September 1984. Last you checked, you had not turned five in September 1984. After taking a deep breath you reminded yourself that so far, this was not your childhood bedroom and that man from the night before was not your childhood father.

“Somebody fucked with the timeline,” you said to yourself, going over to your small dresser and getting dressed. You were less than thrilled with the options but you managed to pull on a pair of thick black tights, a pink and orange flannel and a pair of socks with circles on them. You found a hair tie in the bathroom and started to work on brushing it and putting it up when you saw your new dad walk by.

“Well good morning, birthday girl,” he said, cocking his head at you. “You want to wear that today?”

“Yes,” you said, working on your hair.

“I thought you wanted the pink dress,” he said.

“No,” you said, deciding minimal conversation was the best bet for now. You finished throwing your hair up and looked in the mirror satisfied.

“Well look at you. Doing your hair all by yourself,” he said as you reached for a toothbrush. It dawned on you that most five year olds didn’t do their hair by themself, not when it involved things like messy buns. You shrugged and hopped off the stool, your dad smirking. “I didn’t see you brush your teeth young lady.”

You rolled your eyes and went back up, brushing them as he watched.

“Alright, birthday girl. What would you like for breakfast? Your choice,” he said.

“Cheese omelette and bacon,” you said as you went past. He chuckled as he picked you up.

“What refined tastes from the big girl,” he said. “Try not to grow up too fast on me now.”

You pursed your lips when he wasn’t looking and forced yourself to wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I love you,” he said, kissing the top of your head. You still weren’t positive who he was yet but he was a whole lot kinder than your father ever was. You snuggled him harder, the man pulling out a cellphone at the bottom of the stairs.

The most recent iphone if you weren’t mistaken. 

You had to bite your tongue as he took a selfie of the two of you. He set you down and you cocked your head when he started to head away from a front room and down a hall towards what looked like a kitchen and family room area.

1984. Smartphone. Those two things did not go together.

Maybe it wasn’t 1984 afterall? But why the calendar?

“Birthday girl wants a cheese omelette and bacon,” he said. You quickly caught up and saw a woman with a big smile.

“No pink dress today, honey? That’s been the plan for weeks I thought,” she said, giving you a kiss before she went to the fridge. Double doors, stainless steel. You saw a 70” screen smart TV on the wall in the family room and excused yourself to the bathroom, finding a half bath by the front door. 

“Maybe it’s a djin,” you said to yourself. “Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe we never even went and fought Chuck...or maybe I have finally lost it.”

You sighed and left the bathroom, walking past one of the front windows when you saw her.

Baby.

She was parked in the driveway across the street, a modern day SUV in the spot next to her along with a pickup truck. You opened the front door and stepped onto a front porch, hearing footsteps behind you.

“I know you’re excited but you will see Dean after breakfast okay?” said your dad.

“Dean?” you asked. “Winchester?”

“You best friends with some other Dean I don’t know about?” he teased as he shut the door. “Now go eat your breakfast, sweetie.”

You wolfed down your food, your parents taking their time, asking about how excited you were for your party that afternoon. The Winchesters were going to watch you so they could set up which was no bother to you. You needed to find the boys and talk to them fast.

“Alright, alright,” said your mom when you looked at the door again. “You would think you two could go more than twelve hours apart.”

“Those two are so getting married someday,” your dad said quietly as you slipped on a pair of velcro sneakers by the door. You opened it and started to head down the path to the driveway, hearing a tsk when you were halfway down. “Y/N. Hold up. What’s the rule about the road?”

“Uh, look both ways?” you asked as he caught up quickly.

“Yes,” he said. He grabbed your hand and you glanced up at him, seeing him smile as he looked up and down the street. “Okay. Now we can go. We gotta do that so you don’t get hurt, remember?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said as you walked.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” he said, dropping your hand once you were in their driveway. You ran up it and to the front door, ringing the doorbell. You saw John answer, a much younger John than you were used to. He opened the door wide and you saw Dean behind him. You weren’t sure who moved first but you sprinted towards him and gave him a giant hug, Dean returning it.

“Hey,” you said quietly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered and you instantly relaxed. That was your Dean. Your Dean was now apparently a five year old boy but that was your Dean. 

“You two are being more adorable than usual today, huh?” said John.

“She was very excited to see Dean,” said your dad with a shrug. “Thanks for watching her this morning.”

“It’s never a problem, Dan,” said John as Dean started to pull you upstairs with him. “Try to be quiet for Sammy, guys.”

“I know, dad,” said Dean. You jogged up the flight up steps with him and down a hall, running into a bedroom before he shut a door.

“Dean,” you said, getting pulled into another hug from him and a kiss on the lips.

“Sorry. That’s probably really weird given our current situation,” said Dean.

“I love you. Kisses aren’t weird,” you said, giving him one back, Dean and you holding onto one another for a moment. “What the fuck is going on?”

“From what Sammy and I have figured, the whole timeline has been screwed up. Do you remember anything about what happened with Chuck?” he asked.

“No. You?” he asked.

“Not really. I don’t think he’s alive anymore though,” he said.

“How do you know that?” you asked. The door to the room opened and you saw a toddler walk in, barely tall enough to shut it.

“Y/N. This is Sam. He’s two apparently,” said Dean.

“Sammy?” you asked.

“Yes but I have to share with Cas,” said Sam. “Otherwise I can’t talk or get around this good.”

“Hello,” said a deeper voice, your gaze going back to Dean.

“You see what I’ve been dealing with since last night?” he said.

“Cas, what is going on? Why are we little kids? Why the hell does my new dad have an iphone in freaking ‘84?” you asked.

“The timeline we knew was reset. Completely. That kind of power could have only come from a few sources. I take the fact we are all still alive as proof that Chuck is either dead or has been sealed away,” said Castiel. “As a result, some things have changed. Most things seem the same but technology now is as you all knew it. It seems that whoever sent us all back here attempted to do this for our benefit.”

“Jack would have done that for us,” you said, both of them nodding. “You think he sent us back in time?”

“We’re his family. It’s not crazy to think the kid sent us back to have a second chance. I mean, our mom is alive,” said Dean. “She should have died a year ago. I don’t exactly remember what went down but maybe in this new timeline, she never made a demon deal.”

“Guys,” said Jack, suddenly in the room and sitting down on Dean’s bed. “You could have just asked.”

“What is going on?” you asked as you walked over and gave him a hug.

“Amara, who I think is my great-grandma? She and I...after everything that went down with Chuck, I asked her if we could fix it,” said Jack.

“Fix what, Jack?” asked Sam.

“Everything. So we did. There’s still demons and angels and all that guys but monsters are gone. It’s not perfect here but it’s better off than what we had before,” said Jack.

“Why are we children?” asked Dean.

“He wants us to have childhoods,” you said, Jack smiling. “Jack…”

“You guys were my parents. You still always will be. But you all have trauma. I can’t take it away but you deserve to have normal lives,” he said.

“Okay. That’s great and all but can I least be potty trained?” asked Sam. “Or like, at least five?”

“I can do three,” said Jack. “That would make today your seventh birthday then, Y/N.”

“Yeah, by the way, today is totally not my birthday,” you said. Jack tilted his head and smiled. “What?”

“Yes it is. The year is wrong, I’ll give you that but today is definitely your birthday,” he said.

“Jackie,” you said, closing your eyes. “Today isn’t my birthday. I have no idea who those people-”

“Y/N. Those are your parents. Your real parents,” said Jack.

“My dad was never-”

“That guy wasn’t your dad,” said Jack. Your face fell and you stared at him. 

“Um, what?” said Dean. He took your hand and you looked around. “Her real dad was a piece of crap.”

“Her real dad is actually a really good guy. The parents you grew up with Y/N, in your old life, those weren’t your parents,” he said.

“Well what hap-” you said, the door creaking open. All of a sudden you felt a smidge taller, Dean and Sam growing a bit too, Jack missing. You spun around and saw Mary smiling as she brought in a tray.

“Hey you three. Who wants a snack?” she asked. You stared at her, Sam stepping on Dean’s foot.

“Sammy,” said Dean, pouting at his little brother. 

“Sammy, that’s not nice. You don’t hit your big brother,” said Mary.

“I didn’t!” said Sam, throwing his hands up.

“Is someone cranky?” asked Mary. She picked up Sam and he sighed, sticking his tongue out at Dean as she carried him away.

“I’m pretty sure that was his version of flipping you off,” you said.

“This may have a few benefits,” he smirked. You shrugged and sat on his bed, Dean taking a seat beside you, holding your hand still. “Okay. It’s gonna suck until we get older and can be together the way we want to but we’re both seven. Six more years and we can start making out and a few after that we can move onto other things and I’m gonna have the recovery time of a teenager which is gonna be awesome so…”

You sniffled and he pulled you into a hug, kissing your cheek.

“I know. I know it’ll be okay. But I’m gonna miss seeing you guys whenever I want and we’re always going to have to be lying and it turns out those people that raised me weren’t my real parents. They must have stolen me or what, I don’t know but those assholes are the whole reason I became a hunter, why I found you,” you said. Dean smiled and pushed a loose hair behind your ear.

“I’m right here. I will always be right here. We’re gonna live across the street from each other and-”

“What if my parents move? What if yours move?” you asked, sniffling again.

“Y/N. Sweetheart. You’re my soulmate. I will always find you,” he said.

“You’re so fucking corny,” you said, kissing him, laughing when it felt all kinds of funny and different. “I miss your scruff.”

“Tell me about it. You’re taller than me,” he said. “But like I was saying, you’re going to grow up with nice parents that love you and keep you safe, not one’s you’re afraid of.”

“We both get to start over. Sam too,” you said. “I wonder where Cas is though.”

“I did not agree to this,” said Cas, popping up from the other side of the bed. He was about Dean’s height, black hair and a plain t shirt on.

“Oh, he’s adorable!” you said.

“I am an angel of my asshole father,” said Cas, giving you a death glare.

“You are kinda cute,” said Dean with a laugh.

“I believe Jack has made me your older cousin who lives with you for some reason,” said Cas.

“Why do you get to be older?” scoffed Dean.

“I am millennia old, Dean. Do you think I enjoy being ten?” he asked.

“On the plus side, he’ll be able to buy beer for us someday,” you said. Cas rolled his eyes but you wiped off your face, Dean using his flannel shirt to get the rest. “I’m better now. I promise.”

“I doubt that,” said Dean. “Cas, are you still all angel powerful?”

“Yes. In fact, my powers seem to be fully restored,” he said.

“So if I ever asked you to sneak over Y/N for a sleepover,” said Dean with a smile.

“I can do that,” said Cas softly. “I’ll give you two some privacy.”

“Thanks, buddy,” said Dean. Cas exited for a moment, Sam arguing about nap time down the hall from the sounds of it. “He’ll get to be a normal kid.”

“So will you,” you said. “I swear I so much as see you as trying to cook dinner before you hit double digits, Winchester.”

“I know. So, birthday girl, is there anything I can get you for your big day?” he teased. 

“I got you. I’m all good, Dean.”

______

[fuck-customers]

God some ppl truly are on this earth for themselves and themselves alone. Not a shred of empathy for other humans, it’s just them in their own little world and everyone else can just get fucked. I don’t get how ppl get through life with that kind of outlook like tofay i had a lady, I saw her taking a shirt out of her cart and throwing it on my shelf in my section (I can’t leave my section during store hours) and so I asked her to please hang on to it and give it to the cashier if she didn’t want it.

“Well someone else put this in my cart.”

Ok… that still doesn’t mean you need to leave it in the shelf that I just fucking cleaned and tidied. Whether you picked it up or not, fhe nice thing to do would be to take it with you and hand it off to the cashier later. It’s really not asking a lot. But as I said before, some ppl refuse to do even the smallest fucking favor for their fellow human.

I tell her that even if it wasn’t hers, she’d be doing me a big favor by taking it bc we work very hard to keep things tidy and I also can’t leave my area to go put the shirt back in it’s place. I’m hoping she will finally get the idea and be nice to me.

Nope, she continues to argue.

“Well I’m just gonna leave it on this other shelf then, it’s in the clothes section.” I look at her like ??? Like how is that any better than leaving it on a shelf in the makeup section? Someone is still going to have to pick that up.

I’m just baffled speechless at this point but I guess she took that as me not understanding what she says. She continues “I’ll just leave it with the clothes bc it’s clothing.”

Like yes bitch I understand your stupid logic. What I’m not understanding is why you’re so goddamn averse to doing the littlest, convenient fucking favor for a retail worker. What im not understanding is how people like you fucking exist, that would rather argue and whine and fight tooth and nail before they do something nice for someone else.

Finally she says she’s going to leave it in the clothes and just turns away and throws it on top of a shelf of shoes and storms off. I call after her “these are the shoes?” But she pretends she doesn’t hear me. Fucking cunt. Will never understand people like this, it truly blows my mind how selfish and inconsiderate some ppl are. It’s so disheartening to know that some people really do consider workers to be subhuman, and that any act of kindness towards them is pointless/wasted. Fuck off and die and when you’re reincarnated into the next life, I hope you work in retail and get shat on just like you do to everyone now. What goes around comes around and if you’ve been living your whole life this way, honey you’ve got a LOT coming

Posted by admin Rodney.

[chrisevansonly]

Snowy Miracle

Chris Evans x Female Reader (no use of y/n in this one)

Summary: After a nasty winter storm cancels your flight to Boston, all hope seems to be lost to get home to your husband, but one cancelled flight won’t stop you from spending the holidays with your favourite person

Warnings: light swearing, but other than that just fluffy goodness<3

A/N: Okay, so this is my first fic in a while so bear with me while i get back into the swing of things! It’s not a super long one, but we’ll get there! Hopefully I did okay, happy holidays! ☺️

Word Count: 753

You should have known the second those big white flakes of snow started falling, flights would start to get cancelled and delayed. A last-minute business venture to New York before the holidays is what started this whole ordeal in the first place. So when the stripe of yellow indicating the last flight to Boston turned red cancelling it entirely, a sigh fell from your lips.

“Of course this has to happen now..”

Mumbling to yourself in annoyance your brain began to start figuring out alternative ways to try an salvage the trip home. Pulling out your phone out and finding a quiet spot to sit you sent a text to your husband back home

The Wife♥️: hey honey, the last flight into Boston was cancelled, I am going to figure out another way, stay tuned, I love you.

Your phone remained silent as you walked through the terminal over to grab your bags, spotting a car rental booth just near the baggage claim. It wasn’t the brightest idea you’ve ever had, but what is the harm in asking them for the most winter appropriate vehicle they have in order for you to get home. After grabbing your bags your phone chimed

Chris: fuck, I should have known that storm would cause problems…I can come get you?

The Wife♥️: it’s all good, I think I figured something out, I’ll keep you updated.

Chris: Okay, I love you, be safe

You managed to score a rental from the company to drive home, and luckily enough they had given you a big SUV with all the four-wheel drive options to make the three hour drive home. After the day you had, all you could think of was a tight hug from Chris and the comforts of your own bed.

————————————

Pulling into the long driveway just after 6:00 pm you finally let your tense shoulders relax, the drive had been nothing short of horrendous, but you finally made it, and were more than ready to get all your things inside. You pulled your suitcase behind you and up to the front door, unlocking it with your keys, the sound of Charlie Brown Christmas on the TV which made you laugh to yourself. Your husband may be 41, but that never stopped him from loving all the classic children’s holiday movies. The rattle of your keys hitting the porcelain bowl on the hallway table echoed through the lower level and soon enough Chris appeared in front of you, eyes wide in surprise but a small smile beginning to pull at the corners of his lips.

“Surprise?”

You laughed and opened your arms for a hug which Chris quickly acted on, wrapping you in his arms and squeezing you to his chest. A slight smell of firewood on his sweater knowing he’d put one on not long ago

“How the hell did you get home angel?”

Pulling back enough to look up at him you smiled

“I got a rental car and drove the three hours home, it was shitty weather, but I made it”

Chris leaned down connecting your lips for a much-needed kiss after being away from each other for a couple days before letting you come further into the house

“I’m glad you’re home in one piece, not sure I love that you drove..”

“I knew you wouldn’t like that idea, so I didn’t tell you, but I’m here now and I didn’t miss Christmas”

A smile appeared on his face again and he didn’t hesitate to pull you back in for another hug, his lips pressing a few kisses to your temple, hands rubbing up and down your back as you held each other in silence.

“How about you go shower, change and I’ll order some dinner? We can watch Home Alone and then work some more on our tree”

He looked towards your very sad looking Christmas tree and laughed; you still had a decent amount of decorating to do

“That sounds perfect, I’ll be quick”

“Take all the time you want pretty girl”

A blush crept across your cheeks before kissing him once more, happy to finally be back with your person

“I love you, I’m happy you’re home”

You smiled before crossing your arms

“I love you too, even if you started Charlie Brown’s Christmas without me.”

Chris’s boisterous laugh the last thing you heard as you made your way upstairs and towards your shared bedroom. A little snow could never get in the way of you getting home for the holidays.

[fratboykate]

Hi again,

I’ve loved the angst of Kate and Yelena dealing with Tom’s temper tantrums. I am curious of Kate and Yelena’s early relationship though. Like if Kate didn’t know she was a lil fruity when was her first gay panic moment after her and Yelena first started being more than friendly? Was Kate like “shit…am I gay for this little Russian grinch” or was she just chill with it and like “okay… so apparently I like women now.” I guess I’m asking was she in an experimental phase that turned into not a phase or was it like she was low key always curious about dining at the Y. Like in my head cannon I can totally see Kate calling Suze or Greer and being like “help…I think I’m gay” after a long day of flirting with Yelena and a somewhat naughty dream starring Yelena shattering Kate’s back🤭

p.s. this is the same 2 barbie’s/ken scenario anon

---

Yelena’s such a grump! Honey you’ve got a big storm coming. I’m loving this early dynamic between them though! Would love to know who initiated/ finally made the moves on the other?

///

Here's 8.3k of what happens not too long after Yelena's birthday. I'd say within a few days. Mild sin included lol. This is this long and it's 90% dialogue. Imagine if I fully wrote this out like I did CFAU or even the AO3 KYAU chapters? It'd be like 20k 🤓

---

Yelena buzzes around the kitchen, gearing up to make herself a post-workout smoothie. Her skin is still damp and covered in a thin layer of semi-dry sweat, strands of her hair spill out of her messy braid, and she wears nothing but a sports bra and matching Jiu-Jitsu spats. 

Yelena pours almond milk into the blender when she’s interrupted by thumping on her door. For an instant, she considers ignoring it. That would mean pretending she’s not home, but that seems short-sighted when she’s seconds away from running a blender within earshot of the door. 

Yelena grunts and stomps to the entrance, knowing only one of two people could be on the other side. She swings the door open to predictably find an upbeat Kate resting her shoulder against the doorjamb with a silly grin on her face.

“Hi.”

“What do you want?”

“Sometimes a ‘hello’ goes a long way, you know that?” Yelena stares at her impassively, not giving Kate an inch, but Kate is not playing her game today. She’s going to force Yelena into small talk because she now knows for a fact that Yelena is perfectly capable of being pleasant. Kate takes in Yelena’s appearance - the disheveled look, the sweat, the fitted clothes - and decides to pursue that angle. “You were working out?”

“Just got back from the academy?” Kate looks stumped. “Jiu-Jitsu.”

“No clue what that is.”

“Martial arts thing. Doesn’t matter. What do you want, Kate?”

“Ohhh...she has hobbies! Is it like a fighting thing?”

“Yes. What. Do. You. Want? I’m closing this door in fifteen seconds if you don’t tell me.”

“You’re impossible...I have a big work thing. Fundraising gala for our national trade org. Fancy schmancy dinner. Open bar. Don’t worry about the expensive tickets. I already made my mom pay for those. It’s her charitable deduction for the month. Thing is…I have two of those tickets…”

“No.”

Kate presses forward.

“…I HAVE TWO TICKETS and my friend who was supposed to go with me just came down with strep. All my other friends have plans tonight. I already have a sitter and it would look REALLY bad to have an open seat at our table.”

“I don’t do…social things…people.”

“It’s for charity.”

“You said you already paid for the tickets. Charity was already made. Who cares if the seat is open?”

“Half of charity work is optics. Photographers are there. Photos go out to donors and press. They want to see overflowing events so that more people want to go to their next events. Vicious cycle.”

“No.”

“It’s free food and drinks…and I’d like to think not terrible company.”

“You’ve lived in New York your entire life. I’m sure you have other people you can call. Good night, Kate.”

Yelena shuts the door in Kate’s face.

—

Not five minutes later, another knock interrupts Yelena’s highly anticipated smoothie time. Yelena opens the door halfway through an eye roll seeing as she's fully expecting Kate again, but, to her surprise, it's the little one.

“Mommy’s on the phone with Suzu and she says she asked you to come to a party with her and you said no. Why did you tell my mommy no?”

“Ereka, that’s none of your business. Go home.”

“Why did you say no?”

“Who’s Suzu anyway?”

“My mommy’s big sister. Like I'll be when I get a little sister.”

“Why is she telling her sister that she asked me to come to this party?”

“She was asking my Suzu too, but she can’t come to the party. Why can’t you come?”

“Because I’m busy.”

“With what?”

“Things.”

“What things?”

“You said your mom was on the phone. Does she know you’re out here?”

“No.”

“Go back. Go. I’ll watch you and make sure you close the door.”

“Not until you say yes to go with my mommy.”

“I’m busy!”

“I think you’re lying and mommy says lying is bad.”

“Ereka. Go. Home.”

“I go home if you say yes.”

“Why is a five-year-old trying to blackmail me?”

"What does blackmail mean?"

"What you're trying to do right now."

They scowl at each other in silence for a beat, sizing the other up.

“Can we make a deal?”

“I’m not making deals with preschoolers.”

“You have to go with my mommy.”

“Why are you so intent on me going to this party?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Depends.”

“I can’t tell you if you won’t keep it.”

“I won’t keep it if it’s illegal or dangerous to keep it.”

Ereka huffs.

“Miss Mary falls asleep on the couch almost right as my mommy leaves. If I move the breakfast chair in front of the fridge really quiet, I can climb it and get to the cookies mommy hides up there. I’ve been wanting cookies all day. If you don’t go with my mommy, then she’s going to stay home and I won’t get cookies, so I need you to go with her.”

Yelena makes a concerted effort to remain stoic, but after about ten seconds, she cracks and smiles.

“You want me to say yes to going to a party only so you can Oceans Eleven yourself some cookies while your babysitter sleeps? I will get you cookies myself if I don’t have to go to this thing.”

“My mommy won’t let you. You have to go…I’ll save you some. As payment.”

“EREKA!” Kate scrambles out the door, panicked, the phone still glued to her ear, to find the two blondes chatting at Yelena’s door. “How the hell did you get out?! Get back here right now! What is wrong with you?!”

Before Ereka can incriminate herself, Yelena perplexingly steps in to defend her.

“She didn’t. Get out, I mean.”

“What?…Suze, I’ll call you back.”

“I knocked. To…” Yelena glances down at the kid, already regretting the words about to leave her mouth. “…let you know I changed my mind. I’ll come tonight.”

“Yessssssssss.” Ereka quietly rejoices.

“She told me you were busy on the phone and would pass on the message, then offered to escort me back to my place.”

Kate squints her eyes, struggling to believe this whole scenario, but choosing to let it be.

“Right…We have to leave by six fifteen. Gala starts at seven. Ri, come on. I need to get ready.” Ereka runs off and past her mother into their apartment. Kate lingers. “Thank you.”

Yelena offers a single, firm nod before disappearing back into hers.

—

Fifteen minutes later, Ereka entertains herself in front of the bathroom mirror, messing about with Kate’s makeup while the older woman hums a tune in the shower. There’s a knock on Kate’s door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door, mommy.”

“Don’t open it! Ask who it is.” Ereka jumps off the counter and out of the bathroom. After a beat of silence, Ereka runs back into the bathroom. “It’s Yelena.”

“Are you sure?”

“She says it’s her and it sounded like her.”

Kate wavers for a moment while thinking.

“You can open the door. Ask her what she needs.”

Without hesitation, Ereka bolts toward the front of the apartment. After another long pause, Ereka returns to the bathroom.

“She says she needs to talk to you.”

“About what?”

Ereka runs off again and is back shortly.

“She says she has nothing to wear to a ’schwancy wancy’ thing.”

Kate chuckles. 

“Tell her I’ll be right out.”

“Okay!”

Ereka rushes out the door once more. 

—

Moments later, Kate steps out to the living room, dripping wet and wearing no more than a minuscule towel wrapped around her torso that barely covers the important bits. She finds Yelena and Ereka engrossed in one of the little girl’s didactic games. The scenario makes Kate involuntarily smile. 

“I hear you have a fashion emergency?”

Yelena looks up, ready to make a snarky quip, but her words get caught in her throat and her hands become clammy when she takes in the sight of Kate in the towel.

“Uhm…sorry…I…uh…forgot I already had most of my stuff shipped out. My formal clothes are in some container crossing the ocean right now. I don’t have anything to wear.”

Kate gives Yelena a thorough once-over. Her eyes study Yelena with such assiduous detail that it eventually makes Yelena squirm.

“I should have options for you.”

“Kate…you’re so much taller than me.”

“Lucky for you, I like short things.” The women internally wince when they realize those words come across much flirtier than they initially intended to. “They’ll look right on you.”

Kate glosses right past it and Yelena is thankful for it. 

“I…uhm…don’t typically…” Yelena searches for the right words. “I don’t think our styles overlap very much.”

“Oh, come on. You can pull off a dress. It’s one night.”

“I can wear them. I know how to. I simply prefer not to.”

“I think it’s not a matter of preferences tonight, is it?” Kate saunters into her bedroom. “Let’s see what we can find.”

Shortly afterward, when Yelena hasn't walked in behind her, Kate steps back into the living room.

"Are you like a vampire? Do I have to outright invite you into rooms before you walk inside?"

"I figured you needed to put clothes on..."

"If you prefer I put clothes on now, I can. I think it'd be more efficient if we find you something to wear and then you can go shower."

"Sure. If you're fine, I'm good. I'm good."

"You can come in." Kate makes a point of saying.

"For the record, if there wasn't a child in the immediate vicinity, I'd be flipping you off."

Kate chuckles.

"Good to know."

---

The pair make their way into Kate's sweeping walk-in closet. Ereka darts in after them.

"Oh..."

"Yeah, I have a bit of a problem." Kate turns to Ereka. "No. No no. Out. You're only going to get in the way and we're in a rush. Go read something. Out."

"A bit?"

Kate closes the closet door, leaving a pouting Ereka standing behind it.

"Stop. What's your cup size?" Yelena gapes at her. "Why are you looking at me like I'm some creep catcalling you from a corner? We're standing in my closet, trying to find you something to wear. This is 'need to know' info."

"B." Kate’s eyebrows shoot up, incredulous. Yelena rolls her eyes. "They can be! Depending on the bra. Shut up...You need me to go to this thing, remember?"

"I said nothing."

Kate scans the dozens upon dozens of pieces in her wardrobe.

"How tall?"

"Five foot five." Kate pivots to look at her with a cocked eyebrow. "What are you? A lie detector machine?"

"What are you? A man? I have eyes! Tell me for real!"

"Five foot three."

"We're getting somewhere. Shoe size?"

"Six."

"Okay. Can't help you there. I'm a ten. We'll figure it out."

"What were you thinking in terms of look?"

"What do you mean?"

"Make-up?"

"Zero?"

"What I heard was 'bit of a soft smokey eye in metal and a bold red lip'. Got it. Genius. I was thinking the exact same thing."

"Kate......"

"Shhh...I'm working here."

Kate begins pulling items from the racks and setting them down on the center island while Yelena watches on, increasingly horrified.

"No...No...Absolutely not...No...Never...Kate, no."

Kate lifts a gold sequin-covered gown with a plunging v-neckline and a risque thigh-high slit. She holds it up next to Yelena for a beat, then nods.

"This one."

"No! Look at the cleavage on that thing."

"It'll look great on you."

"I said no."

"I said yes...we need a tiebreaker." Kate declares as she heads for the closet door.

"No, we don't? That's not how this works?"

"Ri, I need you! Fast!"

Ereka speeds over and into the closet.

"What, mommy?"

Kate holds the dress up under Yelena’s neck to give Ereka the most accurate visual possible.

"What do you think?"

"OOOOOOOOOOOH, SO PRETTY AND SHINY! YOU LOOK LIKE A PRINCESS!"

"Is that a 'yes' to the dress from you?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Two to one. Democracy in action." Kate tells Yelena nonchalantly while hanging the dress on a hook next to the full-body mirror. "You need to go shower right now. Don't put anything on your face and come back. I'll do your make-up."

"NO! No dress, no make-up."

"OOOOH, MAKE-UP PARTY! YES YES! WE'RE GONNA HAVE A MAKE-UP PARTY!" Ereka scuttles between the two excitedly.

"You already agreed to come."

"Maybe I'll change my mind."

"You can't do that!" Ereka tells the older blonde firmly. "You made a promise and breaking promises is bad."

"What she said." Kate backs her daughter up. Yelena stares at the women and then stomps off in a huff. "Be back here in no more than forty-five! Hair done! It'll look better up with that dress!"

Kate hears her door slam.

"I don't think she likes the dress too much, mommy."

"I don't know...I don't know.”

“She's very grumpy too."

"VERY GRUMPY, baby.”

“But I like her, mommy. Grumpy and all."

"Yeah. We like her. Grumpy and all...Are you gonna help me pick a dress too?!"

"YESSSSSSS!"

Kate commences selecting pieces from the racks for herself this time and Ereka offers detailed feedback on each along the way.

---

An hour and a half later, Kate and Ereka sit on Kate's bed, facing the closet with anticipation. Kate is dressed in a figure-hugging black gown and her hair is down, styled to look like an effortlessly slicked-back center part. Shimmery eyes and a bright red lip round out the outfit. 

"Coming out at some point before next year would be great. We have to leave in ten minutes and I still have to call the car."

"Kate, I hate this." Yelena gripes from inside the closet.

"I'm sure you look fine." Yelena doesn’t answer and there’s no sound of movement inside the closet. "Any day now. We should..."

Yelena testily swings the door open and Kate's words get caught in her throat there and then.

"WOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!! SO PRETTY!" Ereka exclaims as she hops off the bed and runs around Yelena to look at her from all angles. "YOU LOOK LIKE A REAL-LIFE SUPER PRINCESS!"

"Kate, I look ridiculous."

Kate shakes her head.

"No."

"I do."

"You look beautiful." Kate half mutters, marveling at the sight in front of her.

Yelena would love to prevent the rush of blood she feels forcing its way up to her face, but unfortunately for her, she's yet to learn how to master her body’s involuntary reactions. Her only alternative is to deflect. 

"Don't we have to leave?"

Yelena does her best to redirect, forcing Kate to snap out of her mild trance.

"Yeah...yeah. I'll call the car."

"Are you and mommy going to dance tonight?"

"I don't dance."

"Mommy likes to dance."

"Good for her."

"Mommy, you should ask Yelena to dance."

"Car will be here in two." Kate squats down to chat with her daughter at eye level. "I think we gotta take it easy on her. Dancing might be one step too far today." Kate smiles and steals a glance at Yelena before kissing Ereka's forehead. "I want you in bed right when Miss Mary tells you to. Not a minute after. I want to get zero complaints when I get back, okay?"

"What if I'm not tired? Can I wait for you if I'm not?"

"You better start tiring yourself out now then, because you're going to bed and your butt better be in bed when I get home."

"So unfair."

"UGH! Worst mom ever. How dare she not let you stay up until all hours?” Kate smiles at her daughter, who rolls her eyes. “I have to go. Be good, please. I love you."

Kate forces an over-the-top smooch onto Ereka’s cheek. The little girl “yucks” and wipes her skin with her open palm.

"I love you too. Even when you lick me and try to control me."

Kate chuckles.

"Licking and controlling are the two most important tasks parents have, Ri." Kate looks at her phone then turns to Yelena. "One minute. We should start heading down."

Yelena nods.

"Hey," Ereka whispers and beckons Yelena down to her height with her index finger. She brings her tiny hand to cup Yelena's ear in an attempt to speak to her in secret. "I'll save you two cookies. An extra one because you look really, really pretty."

Yelena can't help but smile.

"No need."

"I will. I'll give them to you tomorrow."

"What are you two whispering about?"

"Mommies don't need to know everything friends talk about."

"Kid has a point. I’m invoking our attorney-client privilege." Yelena backs her up.

"You two are trouble. Car's here. Your plotting will have to wait for another time."

Ereka wraps her arms around Yelena's neck, giving her a warm hug. Yelena reciprocates.

"Have fun. Don't forget my mommy likes to dance."

"Good night, kid."

Kate rushes into the room and yanks Yelena by the hand.

"So slow!"

"I was coming!"

"Not fast enough. Night, Mary. We'll be home by one."

"Ten." Yelena refutes.

"One," Kate confirms as she yanks Yelena out the door.

Ereka chases them to the door.

"I love you the most!" Ereka screams at her mother as the elevator door closes.

"I love you the mostest!" Kate yells back.

(NOTE: For reference, Kate is wearing that black dress/overall look from the “Capital Letters” music video. And Yelena’s look is the 2020 Vanity Fair After Party look. Pics below.)

---

The gala is in full swing. Kate is deep in conversation with the person sitting next to her. On the other hand, Yelena has yet to speak to anyone except for uttering a handful of words to Kate and speaking her order to the bartender. She savors her drink and surveys the event space, making mental judgments of all the guests.

"Socializing is a vital part of the human experience, you know?"

Kate tells her in a hushed tone with a soft smile.

"I told you I didn't do parties."

"Well, you're at one, so...can't you just enjoy it?"

"No."

Kate laughs.

"You're a hard nut to crack."

"Have you considered that maybe I don't want cracking?"

"I think you certainly tell yourself that."

Yelena glares icily at her, pushes her chair back, then stands.

"I'm getting another drink."

---

Yelena sulks at the bar while waiting for the bartender to approach her.

"I'm not trying to annoy you."

Yelena looks over her shoulder to find Kate standing behind her.

"Could've fooled me."

"Is the only way to get you to be nice to call you out when you're being a dick then feed you mac and cheese? Because one: you're being a dick. And two: I will talk to a waiter and see if we can score you some if I need to...I had a good time the other night. I know you're capable of smiling and laughing. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"Kate, what do you want from me?"

"Right now? For you to relax."

"I am relaxed."

Yelena grits through her teeth and scowls, then turns back to the bar, desperately trying to get the bartender's attention. Kate chuckles.

"Oh yeah, chillest person in this room." Kate steps forward, stands next to Yelena at the counter, brings her index finger to the older woman’s chin and pulls it, turning Yelena's head and making their eyes meet. "Give me an hour to prove you could be having fun. Say 'yes' to everything I say for an hour."

"No."

"Failing the exercise already."

"I'm not doing that."

"Are you allergic to fun? What did you and your sister do together? I'm sure you guys had fun."

"Keep my sister out of this. I'm plenty fun."

"Life of the party...An hour." Kate extends her hand, waiting for Yelena to shake it. "Are you this much of a baby that you won't leave your comfort zone for an hour?" 

Yelena lours at Kate. She is certain Kate is purposefully trying to push her buttons now...yet, for some reason, she acquiesces.

"An hour. Within reason. Nothing illegal or too crazy."

"What if we have different definitions of illegal?" Kate fires back with a smirk.

"There's only one definition. Take it or leave it."

Kate extends her hand again for Yelena to shake. Yelena looks at the hand, then at Kate and after a beat, she takes firm hold of it and shakes it. When they do, Kate hits the lock screen on her phone to look at the time.

"You're mine to do as I please until 8:52 PM."

They tense up when they realize the potential for misconstruing the statement as innuendo...but before they can dwell, the bartender approaches.

"What can I get you, ladies?"

"Four shots of tequila, please." Kate rushes to say before Yelena can speak. As Yelena is about to start protesting, Kate lifts her finger and stops her in her tracks. "Ahhhh…can't say no. We just made a deal."

Yelena grunts.

"That's not illegal, but it's certainly irresponsible."

"Live a little."

Moments later, the bartender returns with the shots as well as limes and salt on a tea plate and places them across from the two women.

"Bottoms up, council." Kate urges Yelena as she downs her first shot. Yelena gawks at her. "Come on! You're on my clock here. Move it." Defiant, Yelena slams back the first shot and immediately takes the second. She grimaces. "That's more like it!" Kate kills her remaining shot, interlocks her arm with Yelena's and drags her away from the bar. "We'll be back for more in a second."

"Where are we going now?" Kate's face lights up with a devilish smile as she heads for the dance floor. "No. Nu-uh. Kate..."

"Those words are out of your vocabulary for the time being."

"Kate, I don't dance."

"You do tonight."

Kate forces her way past the crowd and drags Yelena to the center of the dance floor. Once there, Kate begins swaying to the music the DJ plays. Yelena stands stiffly. When Yelena doesn't move, Kate brings her hands to Yelena's hips, trying to coax them into rocking along to the beat. Their eyes meet. There are no reasons this should be as intimate when there are hundreds of people around, but it undeniably is. 

"Come on...I know you're not as much of a robot as you try to make it seem. Feel it."

The last two words slip out barely above a murmur. Kate's hands remain on Yelena's hips while she takes a step closer, making the distance between them damn near nonexistent. Something about Kate being this far into her space fogs up Yelena's mind and before she knows it, her hips follow Kate's lead.

"See? Not too bad." Kate encourages her.

The music transitions to an even more uptempo song and Kate ensures they match the beat to this as well. For a moment - more like three consecutive songs - it's only them in this room. Kate's hands on Yelena's hips, their eyes on each other, breaths on their skin, and bodies in sync. They could've stayed that way all night had they not been interrupted.

"Kate! I thought that was you!"

Kate and Yelena are snapped out of their trance by another woman on the dance floor. The intruder has a handful of friends with her and what was a private, lust-filled bubble for two becomes a wide circle of yappy, gyrating, drunk women. Kate senses Yelena tense up beside her and, without thought, she brings her hand to hold Yelena's. Their fingers intertwine while Kate has small talk with the woman who approaches her.

"The infamous Kate Bishop in the flesh. What are you up to?! Where have you been hiding?"

"It's been a crazy, busy year. I made VP and my accounts have pretty much tripled. I’m drowning half the time."

"Oh my god, congrats! I didn't hear about that."

"Yeah. Thank you! It wasn't too long ago. Happened at the top of the summer and..." Kate feels Yelena pull on her hand, trying to get away. Kate holds on tighter and runs her thumb over Yelena’s skin, soothing. "...I haven't exactly had time to celebrate. It was so nice to catch up, but we were on our way to the bar. Let's get drinks on the books. Have your assistant call mine."

"Of course, yeah! Have fun tonight."

Kate turns and pulls Yelena behind her towards the bar, hands still locked together.

"Sorry. I didn't..."

"It's fine." Yelena hurries to divert. "You probably know everyone here."

"I wouldn't say everyone...99%?" Kate looks over at the shorter woman and grins. "More tequila?"

"That's a terrible idea, Kate."

"Which is exactly why we should do it."

They land at the bar and Kate orders four more shots.

"Four is unreasonable."

"I think you can handle it." Kate hasn't let go of Yelena's hand and continues to run lazy circles over her skin with her thumb. Kate turns to face the crowd. "Who do you think is the hottest guy here? Who'd you get wasted and take home tonight for a crazy, sloppy one-night stand?"

Yelena chuckles.

"Are your observation and deduction skills that poor?"

"What do you mean? Ohhhh...you want me to guess who you think is hot?"

Yelena laughs harder.

"We'd be here all night."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think any of these men are hot, Kate."

"A picky girl! I like it. Okay. What's your type then? There HAS to be someone in here that comes at least close."

"My type is ‘not men’."

"What...oh...OH..." Kate takes a step back, studying Yelena. After a beat, she nods. "No, yeah. That makes sense. It's all clicking now."

Yelena hangs her head back, laughing.

"Glad we got that sorted."

"But like...never? Not even once?"

Yelena shakes her head.

"Have never seen a penis in real life."

"God, I'm actually a little jealous. They're...kinda just...there...flapping around...being an inconvenience."

"Yup. Every word is making me gayer."

Kate surveys Yelena's face and notices her eyes becoming glassy due to the alcohol.

"We need to get some food and water in you. Let's go back to the table. They're serving dinner soon anyway."

Kate pulls Yelena's hand and guides them back to their seats.

"That might be the only good idea you've had tonight."

---

Kate and Yelena talk and stuff themselves full of bread while waiting for their full-course dinner to be served. A waiter drops by to offer the table drinks immediately before dinner is catered and, never knowing when to say no, Kate orders them a round. Yelena is thankful it’s at least a pair of cocktails, not shots.

They continue conversing about nothing and everything throughout their meal. Kate brazenly ignores her coworkers the entire time.

Once dessert makes its way to the diners, the DJ shifts from the mellow playlist guests could have a conversation over back to danceable jams. Before long, Kate is squealing and declaring something "her song" and forcing Yelena back onto the dance floor.

On this occasion, with alcohol and hormones coursing even more freely through their veins, Yelena doesn't resist when Kate eventually presses her back to Yelena's front and starts grinding against her. Yelena's hands find a home on Kate's hips and they move together. As one. They do this for another song before Kate turns to face Yelena. Kate places her elbows on Yelena's shoulders and wraps her arms behind her neck. Yelena's hands move from Kate's hips to the small of her back, right on the curve of her derriere. They're pressing themselves against boundaries at full tilt.

Kate brings her lips to Yelena's ear and her lips graze against the skin of Yelena’s earlobe as she speaks.

"I have to pee like a fucking racehorse." Yelena bursts out laughing. "I'll be right back." Before she pulls away, Kate's lips travel a few inches below Yelena’s ear and press a soft kiss on the woman’s cheek. "Thank you for coming tonight."

Yelena offers a firm nod and Kate disappears into the crowd.

With Kate gone, the illusion breaks and the reality of tonight...of the last couple of hours (because this has gone well and beyond the "one hour" deal by now)...smashes into the forefront of Yelena’s mind like a stray cannonball. Whereas it felt as if it were only the two of them in a room before, now it's back to Yelena being alone in a sea of strangers she has no interest in becoming familiar with. The dance floor becomes speedily suffocating and, before she knows it, Yelena is rushing to the table to snatch the bag with her phone and keys in it and flees.

---

The line to the women’s bathroom stretches down a hallway and wraps around a corner. Kate’s leg bounces impatiently whilst she waits near the end of the queue. Kate brings her manicured thumb to her mouth and begins to chew on it. Now that they’re apart, the veil of the alcohol-induced, nirvana-like state she’s been immersed in has lifted and all Kate is left with is the feeling of an anvil weighing her stomach down. 

What the hell? That is the one query that continually loops in Kate’s mind. Kate racks her brain, striving to figure out when and how her truculent temporary neighbor got under her skin like this. Did it start tonight? Have these feelings been simmering and only boiled over in the last few hours? Kate has an endless stream of questions - questions that can mostly be summarized as “Fuck fuck fuck what the fuck?” - but none that she thinks she’ll have an answer to by the time she gets to a stall. Particularly not when her brain keeps wandering to those moments on the dance floor when her body was pressed against Yelena’s and the woman’s hands were all over her. Those mental images are distracting and certainly not conducive to critical thinking during a seemingly impromptu life crisis. 

For now, all Kate can do is stew in her feelings and hope the rest of the night will further assist in her quest to find explanations. That, and bite her nails to keep her mind off how urgently she needs to empty her bladder.

---

It takes Kate longer to return than she would've liked; therefore, she doesn’t consider it exceedingly strange when she can’t spot Yelena on the dance floor. The blonde must have returned to the table and is waiting for her there. Kate arrives at her company’s table, but Yelena isn't anywhere to be found there either. That’s when Kate notices Yelena's bag is also missing. Kate digs through her purse, collects her phone, and texts her.

Nothing.

---

Half an hour later.

Kate stares at her phone, glaring at the message that has ostensibly merited no response from Yelena. More than worried, Kate feels herself growing angry. She has a fairly solid inkling of what happened and by no means is she allowing their night to end on this wretched note. Kate snaps her handbag up and storms to the entrance while calling a car.

---

The longer the car took to make its way to her building, the more livid Kate felt herself growing. Thus, it is no surprise to her when she finds herself hammering her fists against Yelena's door. To Kate’s satisfaction, she doesn’t have to stand there for long before Yelena stares back at her. 

"People are sleeping, Kate."

It’s clear the older woman has been home for some time, seeing as her face is washed, her hair is braided, and she’s now clad in sweats and a t-shirt. 

Kate barges into the apartment, explosively hurling her bag on the couch the moment she’s inside. 

"Where the hell did you go?"

Yelena points around her, as if stating, ‘here?...where you found me?’.

"You make it a habit of vanishing and abandoning all your dates at parties?"

"That wasn't a date, Kate. That was a kidnapping."

Kate paces in furious silence.

"Maybe not at first."

"Maybe not at first what?"

"A date...maybe it wasn't a date at first."

"Don't," Yelena replies angrily.

"Don't what?"

"Don't do that...the whole ambiguous-and-maybe-even-curious-but-really-straight girl game. It's sad."

"You're such a fucking prick. We had a great night, you got scared, bailed, and now you're trying to shit all over me so I leave. You're not super enigmatic and frigid. What you are is a really predictable coward and THAT is what’s a little sad. A lot sad."

"Get out. Get the fuck out."

Yelena pushes past Kate on her way to open the door and kicks Kate out, but Kate grabs her arm, pulls Yelena towards her, and into a torrid kiss. Kate ends the kiss yet doesn’t pull away. She holds Yelena’s face, keeping her in place, and presses their foreheads together.

"I should have more self-respect than to do the whole 'crush on and chase the one who’s mean to me’ thing, but...here I am." Kate chuckles and presses another soft kiss to Yelena’s lips. "There's more to the grump. I know it. I've seen it."

"Kate, get out. I'm not going to be the person you experiment with. Been there, done that, didn't end well for me."

Kate takes a step back, aggravated.

"Yeah, you're right. I've never been with a woman. I'd have a lot to learn. Learning doesn't mean I'd be "experimenting", at least not in the negative way you're trying to imply."

Yelena takes advantage of the fact that Kate has put distance between them and marches to the door, swinging it open while pointing outside.

"Go home to your kid."

"Is it this hard to admit that someone might actually give a fuck? Ignore me for a second. She adores you. You know that, right? Talks about you all day long. Is constantly looking for excuses to come and see you. I have to stop her all the time, or she would've moved in here by now. People care about you. She cares. I care. You make it hard but not impossible."

"I'm leaving. In November. I'm leaving."

"That's November. This is now."

"Nope. No. I don't work that way. I like plans and order and control."

"Life is messier than that."

"Kate..."

Kate closes the distance between them, slides Yelena’s hand off the doorknob, and pushes the door closed.

"Ignore November. Ignore anything outside that door. Right now, what do you want?"

"What I want right now will lead to chaos in the morning."

"Are you clairvoyant?"

"I'm smart."

"But not psychic. What if what you want right now simply leads to morning sex instead of chaos?"

"Because that's not how life works...not mine anyway."

Kate presses her body against Yelena's. Yelena initially tries to recoil, but, much like she did on the dance floor, Kate holds the sides of Yelena's shirt, by her hips, and settles her.

"What do you want right now?" Yelena doesn't respond. Kate leans her face closer, making her lips hover above Yelena's. "What do you want?"

"To fuck you."

Kate nods, smirks, and a soft ‘hmmm’ escapes her mouth.

"I want you to do that too."

Kate ghosts her lips over Yelena's.

"You're drunk, Kate."

"I'm really not. Buzzed at best. But turned on?...Definitely. And I want you to do something about it." Yelena doesn’t move or speak. "You really gonna make me beg?"

Yelena’s eyes shoot up to meet Kate’s. Kate grins when she sees the desire burning in them. 

"Maybe," Yelena states with an undertone of cockiness Kate hasn’t seen all night. 

"Please," Kate adds with zero hesitation.

"What if you wake up and regret it tomorrow?"

"I thought we were ignoring anything except right now."

"Humor me."

"I don't think you'll give me any reason to...but even if you do...what's the worst that can happen? You leave in November, remember? If it goes TERRIBLY WRONG tonight, then worst-case scenario is we have to awkwardly cross each other for a few more months in the hallway and then, that's it. Never see each other ever again...No downsides."

Yelena’s forest eyes study the azure in Kate’s, attempting to spot any hint of vacillation in them.

"What about Ereka? You said she's always looking..."

"You're overthinking it...and trying to find excuses that don't exist. Right now. You. Take what you want. It's already yours."

After a brief delay, Yelena joins her lips with Kate's in a searing kiss. Within seconds they're stumbling back to the bedroom while clothes are flying off.

---

Kate’s arm swats around the mattress, searching for the body that should be there but come across nothing. Her eyes flutter open and Kate lets the dismaying fact that she woke up to an empty bed sink in. She buries her face in the pillow, trying to shield the blinding sun rays from her eyes, and sighs. Then it hits her...the sun is out. She isn't home and the sun is out. OH FUCK.

Kate gets dressed in a hurry and sprints over to her apartment.

"I'm sorry...I'm so..."

Instead of finding a disgruntled babysitter, what Kate comes across when she bursts in is Yelena and a cheerful Ereka making pancakes in the kitchen.

"What's going on?"

The sound of Kate’s voice makes Yelena look over her shoulder for a brief moment before turning her attention back to the pan.

"You slept in." Yelena casually responds.

"You left me. Alone." Kate admonishes her.

"I woke up after we...it was a little past one, so I ran over and relieved Mary. I figured you'd be up soon enough and crashed on the couch until you came. About an hour ago, I opened my eyes and her face was two inches from mine. I checked in. You were still asleep. Figured I'd let you sleep. She got hungry and I couldn't let her starve on my watch, so we're making food."

"We're making strawberry pancakes for you, mommy."

Kate softens up.

"I'm...I'm gonna brush my teeth and wash my face."

"Okay." Yelena turns to look at what Ereka is doing. "No! NO! Too many. That's waaay too many."

Yelena starts fishing out strawberries from the batter, now cooking on the hot pan.

"Yelena, can you come here, please?" Kate calls from her room.

"In the middle of something."

"I need you for a second."

Yelena turns off the burner and looks at Ereka seriously.

"DO NOT TOUCH IT. It's hot. You'll hurt yourself. You can't touch anything until I get back."

Yelena insists while heading towards Kate’s bedroom.

"I’m big! I can make pancakes on my own!"

"NO TOUCHING! I’ll be right back."

Ereka pouts and crosses her arms over her chest.

"FINE!"

---

Yelena enters Kate's room and finds the brunette waiting for her by the door. The moment Yelena steps in, Kate holds her face and kisses her.

"One: you should've woken me up." Kate kisses her again. "Two: Thank you for staying with her. It was...amazing. That has never happened before. I swear. I've never not come home when I say I will. I think your bed was so comfortable and it smelled like you and..."

Yelena kisses her to quiet her.

"You're a great mother, Kate Bishop. You deserved a late morning. It's fine. All I did was cross the hallway, freeze on your couch for a night, and make pancake batter this morning."

Kate laughs and pecks Yelena’s lips.

"There's blankets in the hallway closet."

"I didn't know that. How would I know that?"

"I could've told you if you would've woken me up." Kate kisses her again. "Thank you."

Yelena closes her eyes and inhales sharply.

"What are we doing?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm about to go try some of these pancakes."

"You know what I mean, Kate...I'm leaving."

"You're here now."

"Doesn't change what happens come November."

"We can worry about November later. Right now, I'm hungry and want pancakes. Do you have plans today?" Yelena shakes her head. "She's supposed to be with me this weekend, but one of her dad’s cousins is getting married. He’s picking her up at eleven and she's staying the night. I need to get her ready, pack her bag, and get her out the door. Then we have the place to ourselves until tomorrow at ten. I do believe I promised you some morning sex, so as long as he's on time and you have me naked in bed before noon, it'll technically count."

Yelena shakes her head while a smile creeps up on her.

"You're something else."

Kate kisses her.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Remains to be seen."

Yelena kisses her this time.

"CAN WE FINISH BREAKFAST, PLEASE?! I'M GOING TO DIE OF HUNGRY!"

A little voice pleads from the kitchen. Kate and Yelena are forced to separate and snicker.

"Yup! Coming! Helping your mom with a thing, but I'll be right there."

"You'll definitely be helping a lot more once she's gone for the day."

Kate smirks at Yelena before stealing one last kiss and heading to the door, dragging the older woman behind her.

"Alright, where are these pancakes I was promised?"

“HERE! We’re making them, mommy.”

---

Kate’s legs are draped over Yelena’s thighs, their interlocked fingers casually fiddling while they speak in hushed voices. Yelena leans in, intent on stealing a sneaky kiss when there’s a knock on the door. 

“Ri, your dad’s here!” Kate rudely screams millimeters away from Yelena’s mouth. Yelena flinches at the volume. 

“DADDY!” Ereka shrieks from her bedroom, followed by the rustling of last-minute stuffing of things into a backpack.

When she realizes what she did, Kate offers a bashful smile and plants a series of soft, rapid kisses on Yelena’s lips. 

“Sorry.” Kate mouths before stealing another kiss.

“Should I go to your room or something?” Yelena asks as Kate untangles herself from her. 

“No. No. I’ll make sure he’s in and out. It’s fine.”

There’s another, more impatient knock on the door. 

“I’m coming!”

Kate speeds up the pace and swings the door open to find Tom holding a bouquet of deep purple tulips on the other side. 

“Was walking by that little florist on 84th and 2nd and saw these. They reminded me of you, KitKat.”

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

Kate expresses genuinely before smelling the flowers. Tom smiles, proud of himself, and places a lingering kiss on Kate’s cheek before stepping inside. 

“I was thinking…maybe you can come to the wedding. With us…me and…” Tom’s train of thought gets derailed when he notices the stranger lackadaisically lounging on the couch in what seems like sleepwear. “Hey.”

“That’s Yelena.”

“DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!” 

Ereka rushes Tom, who swings her into the air and smothers her face with kisses.

“Hi, lovebug! You look gorgeous today. Mommy did a good job with those braids on your hair!”

“Mommy didn’t do them! Yelena did!”

With the little girl now attached to his hip, Tom takes a step toward the couch; his hand extended in a polite greeting mode.

“I guess you’re the neighbor.”

Yelena stands and shakes his hand.

“I’m the neighbor.”

“She doesn’t shut up about you.”

“She’s a great kid.”

“She is. Perfect kid. We made a perfect kid. I keep telling KitKat we should make more.” Tom laughs. “Isn’t that right, baby? I always tell you how we should give her that little sister she wants.” Kate forces an awkward smile. Tom turns to face Kate and holds her hand in his. “So, about you coming today. How do you feel about that? I talked to my aunt because of the RSVP and headcount thing. They said it’s perfectly fine. They’d love to have you there. They haven’t seen you in a bit.”

Tom runs his thumb over Kate’s cheek. Kate takes a step back, putting distance between them.

“I’m busy today. I think it’ll be great for you guys to have one-on-one time.”

“We have one-on-one time all the time, KitKat. You know what she hasn’t had in a while? Family time. The three of us. Together. Wouldn’t you want that, princess? The family at a family event.”

“YESSSS! You should come, mommy.”

“Tom…”

“I’m gonna go. You guys can figure that out.”

Yelena mumbles stiffly as she starts to head for the door. 

“See you, neighbor lady.”

Kate steps in Yelena’s way, using her body to block her path, and almost imperceptibly shakes her head while painting a massive fake smile on her face and addressing Tom. 

“Her dress and shoes are in the bag. She can probably keep the braids for the wedding if you don’t rile her up too much. They’ll look cute in pictures. If they get messed up, let them loose and brush her hair out. It should be fine. If you’re not sure if the braids still look good or not, don’t let her run around looking crazy. Ask your mom or your sister. They’ll tell you. I put a headband in there in case she needs to have it down.”

Tom zoned out after the first few words. As his ex talks, his eyes dart back and forth between Kate and Yelena. Their shoulders are pressed together and their hands are nearly overlapping.

“Hmmmmm…okay. So that’s a ‘no’ on coming with your husband and your daughter to the family wedding? Even though she clearly wants you to come.”

“It’s a no. I’m busy.” Tom scoffs. Kate takes a step forward and plants a kiss on the little girl’s forehead. “You and daddy have the most fun, okay? You’re staying with him and grandma tonight, but I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”

“Why are you not coming, mommy?” Ereka pouts.

“Yeah, KitKat. Why are you not coming?” Tom asks, accusatory and eyeing Yelena surreptitiously.

Kate glares at Tom. 

“Because that was never the plan.”

“Our daughter wants you to come.”

“That wasn’t a thing she wanted until you brought it up. She’ll live. Alright. Isn’t the wedding in Connecticut? That’s a drive. You guys should get going because I don’t want you rushing on the interstate. Please let your mom or someone else drive tonight if you drink at the wedding.”

“Right.”

“I mean it, Thomas. I don’t want her in the car with you if you're drinking. I’ll pick her up if I need to. Just call me if it gets to that. I’ll come.”

“You could come with us now.”

Kate kisses the girl again, then bends over to grab the backpack she had discarded as she ran out and places it in Tom’s hand. 

“Everything she needs is in here.”

“Except for her mom being there with her and daddy.”

“BYE! Have fun!” Kate smiles and nudges him in the direction of the door. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, mommy!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Kate closes the door on Tom, leaving him staring at Yelena from the door. 

“That was…interesting.” Yelena ponders for as long as it takes Kate to close the distance between them. “Did he call himself your husband...?”

“He does that sometimes.”

“But he’s…”

“Not. Definitely not. We got divorced when Ri was two. He’s still getting used to it.”

“That was…three years ago?”

“And we were together for almost seven. It’s taking him a bit.”

“That sounds messy.”

“I’m not with him. I have no interest in being with him.”

“Does he know that? Because he brought you flowers, wanted you to be his date to a wedding, and calls himself ‘your husband’.”

“Can we not talk about him? Please?” Kate steps even closer and intertwines their fingers. “Still very much into the idea of morning sex WITH YOU and noon is creeping up. We should get on that…” 

Kate’s lips fly to Yelena’s neck and start peppering kisses on the exposed skin.

“You have convincing ways, Kate Bishop.”

“I like to think so.” Kate kisses her way up to Yelena’s mouth. “Are you gonna keep spiraling about my ex, or are you gonna fuck me? One sounds A LOT more fun than the other.” Yelena studies her face. A mischievous grin appears on Kate’s face. “You like it when I beg you for it, don’t you?”

“You look good begging.” Yelena smirks confidently.

“Please,” Kate whispers against Yelena’s lips. “Please…I’m dying to be under you again…Please.”

Yelena smashes their lips together and taps the back of Kate’s thighs. Kate takes the hint and wraps her legs around Yelena’s waist and arms around her neck. Yelena brings her hands to Kate’s ass to hold her up while she starts guiding them toward the bedroom. As they’re getting to the door, Kate leans back.

“Stop. Hold on. Hold on.” Yelena quietly panics and puts Kate down. “Wait here.”

“What?”

Kate hastily pecks Yelena’s lips before vanishing into her room.

“Wait there.”

“Kate, we don’t have to if you don’t want to. If you changed your mind…”

“Shut up and wait before you freak out, will you?”

Moments later, Kate reappears on the threshold, clad in the skimpiest lingerie. She wears a black triangle bra with leavers lace and a matching lace thong. The outfit (or lack thereof) is capped with an untied purple silk robe lazily draped down the sides of her body. Yelena purses her lips and dramatically exhales. 

“You like?” Yelena nods and hums. “Then will you please come and fuck me before I ruin this underwear any more than I currently am? They’re La Perla. They’re expensive.” 

Kate offers a rascally smile before disappearing into the room anew. 

Yelena lingers at the threshold for a moment and softly bangs her forehead against the wall. There's no way this isn't going to be a disaster come November.

She was right.

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

🌪️☔️☃️

(Honey, you got a big storm coming!)

🌪️ Is there a nugget of game lore you want to explore but haven’t yet?

Hmmm! Not much comes to mind, truthfully. I’m a character-first plot person really; I like hearing about other people’s interesting little lore nuggets but most of the time unless it’s deeply connected to a character I don’t feel a strong drive to explore it!

☔️ Do you think about wider DnD canon?

Only when it suits me, ahahah. I pick my favourite chocolates out of that box and ignore the rest 🤣 For instance, I’ve read a bunch of Eilistraee lore for In Service of Magic, but some of it doesn’t fit with being a Queen (hard to run your kingdom if you disappear off on a “run” once EVERY year) or the kind of domme I want Phaere to be. (Eilistraeens are rather allergic to clothes, lol. Phaere, meanwhile, likes to be fully dressed while the court men parade around in very little. I’m ignoring that bit of lore, lol).

Similarly for Elturel. I find reading DnD sourcebooks pretty tedious. We’re going with the FR Wiki summary. Occasionally I find a nice titbit (like having Rolan remark upon the night sky because Elturel had the Companion that made it always light), but mostly I take the broad strokes and then we’re off. It’s funny because I *love* researching IRL stuff like medicine, but I guess because DnD is a load of cobbled together nonsense anyway I don’t feel much desire to research the lore more widely. (I also like making the setting more medieval/renaissance. More distinct from our time, basically.)

Finally, it occurred to me that a lot of DnD lore felt frustrating to me because it’s tuned for fun *games*. Get-out-of-jail passes abound; ways to deal with almost every problem. Ways to do almost anything you want, with DM’s discretion of course. The problem is that outside the tabletop arena, that does not make for satisfying stories. Narratives need consequences and stakes. This is actually why I find a lot of “Karlach should have lived” takes really annoying. “But in tabletop you could have solved it with X, Y and Z!!” well ok, but this is NOT tabletop DnD. The devs told a beautiful story about living when you know you’re about to die, and without real amends made for the things you’ve been through. And Sam Béart acted it beautifully. Fuck the lore, lmao. That story was worth any lore conflict.

(On the flip side, spells have to be discretised and limited in their uses in a way that a non-game system wouldn’t need them to be, and it’s nice to make them more flexible and organic-feeling in a story).

☃️ answered here!

[songbirdsbees]

I decided to rewatch the videos where Sam and Colby started doing haunted stuff full time from the first biltmore video and I thought I might as well post any silly little thoughts I have! (Also for reference I started watching snc back in late 2017 and watched them religiously until they moved into the second LA house with Corey and Jake and I just recently started watching them again last September and binged all the videos I missed slightly out of order so now I want to watch them in order lol)

The old music in their vids makes me so nostalgic!

I can’t lie the part in the first biltmore video where the lady tells them the story of a girl drawing on the wall in her own menstrual blood haunts me to this day.

Them getting freaked out over the jankiest looking door ever doing a weird knocking sound is such a huge difference compared to how they react to stuff now. They ran from that door.

The enchanted forest/cobb estate video freaked me out so bad when I first watched it. Real people are definitely scarier than ghosts. In general that video was pretty boring but they just started to post ghost content regularly so I’ll let it slide. (Also Elton’s fur coat/cape was so random)

I want them to film at the biltmore presidential suite again so bad. It’s absolutely crazy though that they paid 40k for one night (this was according to Sam and I don’t think he was serious) and they didn’t even properly dust the place or put in fresh lightbulbs in the lamps. They really said you aren’t actually famous so we don’t care. 😭

Ahhh yes it wouldn’t be an old snc haunted video without Corey getting ~mysterious~ phone calls

Not Sam saying that Corey picking up the hotel phone in the first biltmore video is the reason he got in a car crash 3 days later 😭

Sam wearing fingerless gloves around a hotel isn’t sus AT ALL

“The following footage is some of the most traumatizing of our lives” *insert “honey you’ve got a big storm coming” gif*

Whatever ghost haunts the presidential suite is such a trickster fr they have them running all over the place

Colby throwing Jake’s lighter 😭

The candle thing is still kinda freaky I can’t lie

[turtlesocksv2]

Kinnporsche Rewatch Episode 4 Thoughts

Pete an Porsche are doing some INTENSE cuddling there, full on wrapped around each other like boa constrictors. Just Bestie Things, getting plastered and then snuggling with your homie and kissing him in your sleep.  (Pete’s hungover Judgey Face when Porsche says that he thinks he kissed someone last night was so funny. Judgey Pete is the best)

Kinn is having a fucking Crisis about kissing Porsche. he doesn’t kiss people! He doesn’t like people! he fucks rentboys for a reason! and Porsche has no clue that Kinn is spiraling.

Vegas begins operation Steal Kinn’s Girl with as much charm as he can put into it and the time honored tradition of Ragging On Your Younger Brother. Porsche, being a fellow older sibling, is weak to it.

Kinn is soooo jealous. but Kinn, if you don’t want Vegas to steal Porsche you’re going to have to use your words to explain that Vegas is psychosexually obsessed with you and taking the things/people that are yours!

Pol and Arm are so fucking excited to go to the spa and onsen in the fucking fancy hotel they fucking live in for the first time. what kind of clown show is Korn running, here. Let your bodyguards use the spa! maybe then you won’t get moles!

ah, the homoerotic sauna scene. Porsche is so fucking dumb. “You like Mianmian!”-ass  “playboy bartender me have a girlfriend? nonsense! when are you getting a girlfriend”

Vegas intimidating Pete with a smile in order to crash the bodyguard lunch is so funny. Honey, you’ve got a big storm coming.

the panic as Vegas attempts to offer Porsche a job - and a way out from under Kinn’s thumb. the tension. Porsche is clueless, Kinn is pissed, Arm and Pol are scared shitless and Vegas is smug because he knows he hit Kinn’s nerves.

Tankhun is NOT scared of Vegas at all. hits him with a serving tray upside the head, gets right up in his face and tells him to GTFO. now THAT is the former Theerapanyakul Mafia Main Family Heir.

“Kissing is for people that we like ONLY!” ok so first of all this conversation is hilarious because are you telling me that Porsche never once kissed any of the girls he was hooking up with behind Yok’s bar? Press X To Doubt.  Secondly, Pete says that and smash cut approximately 7 episodes and Pete both makes out with and has freaky nasty sex with the man who kidnapped and tortured him. King Behavior.

aaaaand the start of the KimChay stoyline which i fankly find incredibly boring. but i do enjoy that Chay is out there trying his hardest to live his Wattpad Dreams.

somehow i had forgotten the “are you going to take your shirt off or make me take it off for you?” god Kinn is down BAD. Kinn is also a shit liar ‘Tankhun is mad you ate with Vegas he gave you back to me’ like, uh...ALL of Tankhun’s guards were eating there? I don’t see Arm and Pol getting transferred. ‘All our people are the same’ my ass.

i love that Kim has a murderboard. his investigation goes nowhere and means nothing, but i guess it’s good for him to have a hobby.

Vegas’s white suit is a Look.

Porsche you are a bartender! you KNOW better than to take drinks you didn’t see poured! Ah, but i guess that’s the arrogance of young dudes who can fight.

having Thoughts about Vegas’s obsession with Kinn, but not anything coherent. just kinda rotating it in my mind for now like i’m watching a washing machine tumble clothes.

Kinn orders ‘you all’ out of the room, and Big and Ken leave but Arm and Pete are allowed to stay a little longer and offer to take care of Porsche themselves. HMMM MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE LET THEM, KINN.

up to now, we haven’t really seen Unhinged Vegas, just the charm offensive that he’s put out. but naked, bathed in red light, smoking, ominous music is background, chandelier out of focus looks like a demonic summoning circle THIS is crazy evil vegas and it is Effective. you know immediately, if you thought before that this man was just a dick who wants to pick on his cousin, that NO. This man is DANGEROUS.

[anotherblblog]

Cheating McChicken Finale Blurbs

Well. That was honestly a very satisfying season/series finale for me.

Similar to the finale of MSP, Moonlight Chicken’s final episode seemed to be a triumphant victory lap. But definitely more resolutions and earned closure than MSP.

What’s great about Moonlight Chicken is that for all the jokes and messiness of it, at its core, it’s about people just living their lives. 

Moonlight Chicken is the working person’s BL. This is real adult shit and sometimes you just gotta acknowledge the messy thorns of the past and turn and say “this is Heart/my boyfriend/friend.” 

I love those moments of claiming, acknowledging, and/or recontextualizing that Li Ming, Jim, and Alan had. The couples are all in different stages of life and love and we got to see that all throughout this episode. 

Li Ming and Heart privately take their relationship to the committed stage and so far, it’s need to know to basis and that is perfectly fine for them. Jim publicly claims Wen as his boyfriend (I also peeped Li Ming signing boyfriend after to Heart). Alan and Wen have finally ended their cold war. Alan needed to take a few more steps in leaving the photos (always hard) and also kindly but firmly refusing to entangle himself with Wen anymore and walk away. Then later after the time skips, he could have a bittersweet, “he’s my friend.” 

The kids are soon to be off in America, when Li Ming said Americans graciously tip, I was like oooooh honey, you’ve got a big storm coming. Jam has been welcomed and found a way to meaningfully be a part of Li Ming’s and Jim’s lives.

Gaipa got that text and perked the fuck up. Go on and get your groove back.

Leng got the pawned chain back. And we see his family (sorta lol, there 100% was no baby in that bassinette) and we know the happy couple are off to get their marriage blessing. 

It seemed to me the diner had no fewer than 3 final goodbye scenes/last meals lmao.

EarthMix have a pretty good kiss by gmmtv standards.

Everything was lovely and probably covered in chicken grease and nothing hurt.

....except the absence of Jimbo lmao