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"Kill them with kindness" WRONG. drop the opera house chandelier on them.

HOME TO US | rhysand

summary; rhys and nyx are a family of two, but they're both pretty hell-bent on making it into a trio, with you.

word count; 12,151

notes; I have no idea how this got so long? I planned for it to be like 4-5k, and @azsazz can vouch for that. also big shout out to @acourtofwhatthefuck for proofreading this for me when I just had no motivation, but I needed this one to be perfect.

Fate had always seemed to have the worst timing for you.

Whether it be relationships, the sunny skies turned to rain, or simply this; balancing precariously on a stool and getting startled by your own phone, which you could have sworn was on silent mode. 

Blaring out across the shop in a sudden burst of cheery notes and tones, you almost dropped the stacks of books in your hands, cursing a little as it vibrated in rhythm in the back pocket of your jeans. When the call persisted after the usual three rings signalling a cold caller or market salesperson, you sighed. 

Shifting the books to one arm, you fished the phone out before it could go to voicemail, wondering just who would be calling you so urgently at this time of the day. The question didn’t linger for long, though, as your eyes widened at the caller across the front of the screen. 

‘Velaris Young-Education Prepatory School’.

A ridiculously fancy name for an elementary school, you thought it every time you saw the name, and yet right now, your heart skipped a beat as you pressed answer. Bringing it to your ear as you shuffled the books in your arms more, you lowered yourself down from the ladder carefully. 

“Hello?”

“Oh, hello! Is this Nyx’s mother, (Y/N)? It’s V-Y-E Prep.”

The woman on the phone sounded somewhere between relieved and panicked, and your heart leapt into your throat a little at her tone. “Well, yes, that’s me, but-”

“Oh, good, we weren’t able to get in touch with dad, I was worried I wouldn't be able to get a hold of either of you.” She cut you off before you had a chance to finish, your lips clamping shut as she let out a sigh of a laugh. “I’m Nyx’s class teacher, but he’s had a little bit of an accident today, do you think you’d be able to come and pick him up from the reception?”

Your heart felt like it stopped in your chest entirely. “An accident, what kind of accident, is he okay?” 

“Oh, he’s fine! He had a fall during playtime, and he bumped his head. There’s a mark, and a scratch we’ve cleaned up, but he’s understandably a little shocked and upset. We know dad can get… concerned,” 

Understatement of the century, you wanted to butt in, because Rhys was more than just concerned. He was overprotective, in an endearing way, but he tended to freak out over the smallest things. Then again, it didn’t help when teachers said things like ‘accident’ when it’s not so serious. Perhaps it was a good thing that they got you, not him. 

“So, we thought we’d give you a ring, and see if you could pick him up?”

Your eyes flickered to the clock on the wall. You still had four hours left of your shift, and you felt terrible just ducking out, even if the store was dead, excluding the few people idling over lukewarm coffees in the connected café. “Sure, yeah, of course. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Wonderful, we’ll see you then.”

The line clicked dead, your eyes sliding shut as you let out a slow breath. You could have just said no, that voice in your head taunted, he’s not your child to fret over. And yet, the thought of his sad face lingered in your mind, triggering all those maternal instincts inside of you and sending them into overdrive.

“Sounds urgent.” Somehow, despite walking with a cane and always wearing heeled boots that clicked on the floorboards, Margaret had managed to sneak up on you. When you turned, the seventy-something-year-old was standing with a smile on her face behind you, eyeing the phone in your hand. 

“I’m sorry, Margie. It’s Nyx’s school.” You grimaced, lips pressing together into a thin line. She only laughed lightly, waving a frail hand idly in the air as if to bat the moment away.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. I know what it’s like to have your child’s school call you up in the middle of the day.” Her smile only widened, her eyes glazing over a little. “Our Tommy was a terrible little troublemaker, I had constant calls about his behaviour. And our Jenny, well, she was the clumsiest kid you ever saw. Tripped over thin air.”

A wistful sigh escaped her, and your lips flicked up at the edges. You’d met both Thomas and Jennifer, lovely people, but just as she’d described. Jennifer seemed even more prone to bad timing than you, and Thomas had turned all that troublesome energy into bad flirting and a heated temper. 

“You do what you have to for your kids.” She’d finished her recollections, her voice snapping you from your own, and you could only nod.

“I know, but he’s not my kid. Not biologically, or in any way that matters. It’s not the same, and-”

“Hon, if I’ve ever seen a mother, it’s you to that little boy.” Her words made a lump in your throat that was impossible to speak around, a quick flash of emotion swelling up that you were quick to fight against, but the sparkle in her eyes told you she’d seen in. “He may not have your genes, but he’s yours. So, go get your son. The store will still be here when you come back on Monday.”

“Are you sure-”

“Don’t make me force you out of this door.” She tapped her cane at your feet, just close enough that you could feel the floorboards vibrate under the harsh taps, a wordless threat, and a grin broke out on your lips to hide the blush on your cheeks. 

“Alright, I’ll see you Monday, then.”

She gave a curt nod, and you were flying through the store. Grabbing your bag and coat from the backroom on the way, you were out of the back door and at your car in less than a full minute. Only when you’d put your bags onto the seat and checked the car seat permanently attached to the back of the car did you get into your own seat.

How you’d gotten to this point, you had no idea. It hadn't been your intention four years ago when you’d first met baby Nyx, to end up with a box of his things in your trunk for emergencies, a child seat of your own in the back of the car and your name registered as a parental contact. Yet, as you stared, twisting to look at it and brushing your fingers over the fabric, you didn’t have a single regret about it. 

In fact, only a smile pulled at your lips as you thought about him. Him, and his father. Rhysand had been your best friend for many years, and his baby only seemed to bring you closer. You’d never have wished Nyx’s mother to have abandoned him, you loathed the woman every day for what she did to them both, but it had created a space in their lives that you’d somehow patched a part of up. 

When Rhys had needed support and guidance, you’d been there.

Now, you’d be there for Nyx, too.

As you started the car, flicking a glance back to check the mirrors on the seat were still aligned, Margie’s words flickered through your mind. 

If I’ve ever seen a mother, it’s you to that little boy.

They lingered on your mind for the entire drive, hanging over you like a cloud on an April day, unsure if it was going to rain, or simply pass by. Until you were parked outside of the school, hands still clenched tightly on the steering wheel as you stared up at the tall glass entryway only a few paces away. You couldn't see Nyx yet, not with the doors on the other side that truly sealed off the building, but you could make out figures and shapes on the other side.

Your eyes moved to the clock, the digit clicking over another number, and your fingers felt numb when you finally released them from the wheel. With another sigh, you released all thoughts about mothers and genes and Rhys. 

One day, perhaps, you’d confront them. Today wasn’t going to be it.

Stepping out of the car and swinging the door shut behind you, you didn’t even bother to lock it, as you took a slow jog up the main pathway before the school. The doors hissed open automatically before you, the smell of fresh cotton coming from the air freshener in the corner of the office, and the receptionist behind the desk looked borderline bored as she glanced up. 

“Hi, um- Hi. I’m here for Nyx.”

Her eyes widened a little, looking significantly more interested now as she took your name, and called through to the classroom. The thought almost amused you, had you not been so concerned. Rhys had quite the representation around here, the big checks and hefty donations gained him and Nyx quite the special treatment, one that clearly seemed to pass onto you, too. 

The doors to the school buzzed open a second later as the magnetic locks released, and you stepped through. Sitting in one of the large plush chairs lined up along the wall of the office was Nyx, looking utterly swamped as his feet swung in the air, head bowed and hands clutching tightly to his backpack in his lap. 

At the scuffing of your shoes, his head snapped up, eyes wide and hopeful, turning to relieved as he saw you. He dropped his bag to the floor, moving to slide out of the chair but you were faster, dropping down to kneel before him. Up close, you could see more, enough to break your heart. 

His eyes were red, cheeks pink, tear-marks tracked into the smears of playground dirt and classroom muck on his face. When you brushed the edge of his inky hair back from his forehead, it was to reveal a cut across his forehead to his temple, bumped and bruised, growing into a lump on his head. His bottom lip wobbled, eyes growing shiny again. 

“Oh, Nyxie, did you get hurt?”

“Yeah…” His voice trembled as he spoke, sniffling lightly and wiping at his cheeks with his sleeve. Patting his hair down once again, you tried to choke back the emotions clogging in your throat as a tall shadow fell across the both of you. With a glance, you confirmed that it was his teacher, looking more than a little nervous as she watched you take in Nyx for yourself. 

“We just have some forms for you to sign, and I can tell you a little more about his injury, and then you’re good to go.” At your nod, she let out a heavy breath, wiping her hands down subtly on her skirt.

“Nyxie, I’m just going to go sign some forms for you, okay? Do you want to wait here?” He shook his head, eyes widening a bit as his little hand clamped down onto your arm, gripping tightly and shuffling across the seat closer to you. “You want to come with us?”

“Can I have cuddles?” His voice was low and shy, your heart swelling a little more. 

“C’mere.” Opening your arms up for him, his damp cheek fell to your shoulder, nose tucking sweetly into your neck, and you scooped him up, his legs dangling on either side of your body as he slumped against your chest happily. Standing up with a little more effort than usual, Nyx’s hands patted idly over your knitted jumper, body bouncing with each step you took to follow her inside of the office. 

The forms were already laid out, four to be signed, and she pushed the first one over to you. “This one is just to state you acknowledge the injury, the second is a copy for you, because dad requested always having a copy of forms.” Her cheeks flushed with a little colour, the edges of your lips flicking up at Rhys’ quirks. “The third is just an injury form, that you know we’ve given you all the information, and you’re satisfied. The fourth, another copy.”

You quickly signed your name on the first two, pushing one over to her and keeping the other on your side. The pen hovered over the paper of the third, your fingers clenching a little on it, eyes flicking over the page. “What did happen, exactly?”

“Well, uhm…” You rubbed a hand over Nyx’s back, a soft affirmation that you appreciated how patiently he was waiting. Putting on a smile, you tried to put the woman at ease, not having meant to sound quite so… pissed. 

“I know kids have accidents, I didn’t mean to sound so… well, let’s just say, be glad I’m the one that picked up the call. Dad can be overprotective.” The boy in your arms giggled a little, and you placed down the pen, using your hand to now cup his head and rub at his hair lightly. 

“He was playing on the climbing equipment. I think he went a little too high, because he couldn't climb down. Another child was trying to help him, but before anyone could get over to him once we realised he was stuck, he fell off.” Her voice was a lot more confident now, and you were glad you’d been able to ease just a little of that tension. “I can take you out to the equipment and show you what happened, if you’d like?”

“That won’t be necessary.” You grabbed for the pen again, signing both pages, and she pulled one over towards her files as you gathered the other two. 

“Nyx was so brave, weren’t you, huh?” She swiped a finger over his cheek as she passed by to get the door for you again, and he nodded slowly against your body. “And he was so excited when he found out his mommy was coming to get him.”

There was that word again, all of those thoughts coming swarming back in a dizzying rush as you followed her. A hot blush settled on your cheeks, your mouth opening to correct her, before Nyx’s hands were bunching in your jumper as he let out another little giggle, making your lips snap closed again. He hid his face deeper in your shoulder. 

Stooping down to pick up his bags, his teacher placed it over your arm, swinging as you gripped paperwork in one hand and Nyx in the other. “I put all of his schoolwork in his bag. We’ll see you again tomorrow, Nyx!”

She held the door open for you, waving her goodbye as she watched you go, the receptionist looking far more alert now than she had earlier, smiling widely as the two of you left, and you could feel their gazes on you all the way to the parking lot. 

Putting down the paperwork and his bag on the top of the car, you opened it up, leaning in to settle him was like muscle memory now. No longer an awkward act but a practised one, as he slid from your arms and into the chair. Fastening the belt across his middle, you did the ones over his shoulders.

Eyes that were the same incredible shade of near-violet as his father’s were watching you, a ridiculously adorable smile on his face as you leaned in to press a kiss to the uninjured side of his forehead. Tucking his bags on the other side of him, you checked all his straps, not realising you were frowning yourself until his little fingers pinched at your nose. 

“Got a nose!” He whispered excitedly, waving his fingers in a way that was supposed to mock his uncle’s, the way Cassian would always tease that he’d ‘stolen Nyx’s nose’ to cheer him up. When you smiled at him, he pushed his hand back against your face, giggling to himself as he continued to imitate his uncle. “You can have it back!”

“Well, thank goodness for that!” You teased, rubbing over the bridge of your nose and taking him in. Once you were happy with his safety, you closed the door, taking only the paperwork with you and folding them in half, tucking them into the glovebox of the car for safekeeping. When the car turned on, your fingers went to the radio, and a single button pressed had some of Nyx’s favourite songs pouring from the speakers as the kiddie-CD in the player came to life. “We’ll go and see your daddy now, hopefully, he won’t be too upset about your head.”

The boy only hummed to his song, leaning to stare out of the window, breath fogging it up and one hand resting on the windows he watched his school be left behind. “Daddy will be angry with us?”

For all the fresh set of worries now swirling inside of your head at Rhys’ reaction, you’d never considered how Nyx would interpret your words. “Oh, no, of course not, baby. Never us. We make daddy smile, not frown!”

Reaching behind yourself as you came to a stop at the red lights, you squeezed at his knee lightly, retracting it only when the light went yellow. Another few minutes of quiet went past, the roads clear for the middle of the day as you drove, and Nyx was happily taking in all of the Velaris scenery as you passed by. 

From the small town outskirts and into the city centre, it was when you were almost there that Nyx stopped singing and decided to speak again. 

“I heard daddy tell Uncle Azzy on the phone that you make him smile like nobody else ever has.”

Your eyes widened, your foot nearly slamming onto the brake a little too hard as you turned a corner, and Nyx went back to singing his song. Your heart was picking up speed in your chest, the traitorous organ fuelled on hope reacting in a way you tried to resist. Your head was empty, it took a full minute to form your response, and you gave out a croaky laugh. “Were you being cheeky and listening to your dad’s private phone calls again?”

“No!” His voice sounded indignant, but with a look cast in the mirror onto him, you could see the cheeky smirk on his face. “He answered it at dinnertime! I got to say hi to Uncle Azzy. He’s in a whole different country right now, did you know that?”

You could only smile at the excitement in his voice as he spoke all about Azriel’s current escapades in Spain, or at least, the version that was completely safe and child-friendly. Soon, though, his distraction was over, and he was circling back to a topic you had hoped he’d forgotten.

“Daddy loves you. He told Uncle Azzy. And Uncle Cass, and Auntie Mor.”

“Well, now I know you’re telling me fibs.” Releasing your hand from the gearstick at the next red light, you reached it behind you, tickling at his tummy until he laughed loudly and kicked his legs, slapping at your hands weakly as he wriggled in his chair. “He would never tell Uncle Cass about his feelings, because Uncle Cass would tease him!”

“I’m not telling fibs, I’m not!” He gasped the words between breaths, face growing red, and you almost forgot you were sitting at the lights until a car honked behind you, forcing you to pull away. His laughter died down as the car started again, but he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “He did tell him. He said that he loves you, and he thinks that you’re the prettiest girl in the whole wide world.”

Your lips pursed, your heart betraying you once again, stomach joining as butterflies erupted until you felt lightheaded, and the weight of his stare on the back of your head was obvious without you even needing to turn. 

In a far less sure voice now, “Do you love daddy?”

You had no idea how to answer that question. You’d known he’d get curious about your friendship with his father soon, you’d just been foolish and selfish enough to hope it was his father that he asked, and so you wouldn't have to handle it. 

Of course you loved Rhysand, but that didn’t make it easy to explain. 

Rhys could never know, the wound of Feyre running away with Tamlin and abandoning Nyx was sure to still be raw, Rhys hadn't been on a date in four years, and if this conversation had confirmed anything, it was that Nyx wasn’t the best secret-keeper. 

Your words had to be chosen carefully.

“Your daddy is my best friend, so, yes. I do love him.” You thought you’d done well, until Nyx made a non-committal sound, another question all ready to go. 

“Does he make you smile?”

“Yes.” Your teeth gritted, the looming office building of the company HQ filling the sky as you pulled up to the security box, not even needing to roll the window down before the gates were buzzing open for you.

“And, do you think he’s the prettiest man in the whole wide world?” His arms flew as wide as they could, and you ignored how endearing it was, choosing a parking spot instead and focusing on your alignment. 

“He’s very pretty, Nyx. Just like you.”

“Then why can’t you be my mommy?” That question felt like a punch to the gut, the car shutting off, silence filling the cabin around you as the engine stopped and the singing CD paused. He was waiting, playing with his fingers and staring at you when you turned to face him. His eyes were wide, confused, and you hated that he felt that way.

“Let’s clean up your face, huh? You’re all dirty.” The words were pathetic, you hated yourself, because avoiding his question meant avoiding your own. You were taking the coward's way out, pulling two wipes from the packet in the dash to wipe at his face. He stayed silent, lips pursed in an unhappy pout, but he didn’t push it. The next time he spoke, it was as you were unclipping him from his car seat and lifting him towards the ground. 

“No, no, no.” He clung to you more, jutting out his lip and putting on puppy eyes he knew worked every time. “More cuddles?”

If it kept him effectively distracted, that was more than enough. Settling him in your arms and locking the car this time, the two of you set off towards the building, Nyx babbling in your ear about everything he could see around him so far.

Upon entering the lobby, his chatter cut off, head lifting from your shoulder to wave excitedly at the assistant behind the main desk. Long ago, you’d felt insecure stepping into this building in nothing but your jeans and a hoodie as everyone else wore dresses and suits and polished heels. Now, even as the elegant woman stood in her pencil skirt to lean over the counter to greet him, you felt at home. “Hi, Ana!”

“What are you doing here in the middle of the day, little mister?” 

He only laughed, leaning out proudly to wave at her, and a new receptionist you didn’t recognise. “We’re here to see Daddy!”

She offered a knowing smile when you pushed his hair back just enough to show off the growing bruise, and turning to the intern beside her. “Take them up to the boss, and let him know.”

With a shaky smile and a polite introduction, she led your group over to one of the elevators, Nyx pulling faces and giggling over your shoulder at Ana the whole time. The ride up to the top floor consisted of Nyx counting the numbers off loudly, tickling them off on his fingers until he couldn't count anymore, and the doors chimed open at level twenty-six.

Guiding the both of you toward the boardrooms, you stopped outside of Rhys’ preferred meeting room, the one with ‘the good coffeepot’ he claimed, a smile flickering on your lips as you spotted his silhouette through the frosted glass while she knocked at the door.

As she entered, you could hear his voice pouring out, the back end of a speech on this year's profit margins that he’d practised on you a hundred times before today, only going quiet as all attention fell to her. “Sir, your wife and son are here.”

Your brows rose at her wording, still sitting high on your forehead as Rhys appeared, closing the door behind him and dismissing her thankfully. Left alone, his gaze flickered over you both, an emotion you still didn’t understand settling on his face when Nyx sat up in your arms, still cuddled against you. 

“Hi, daddy! I got a bump on my head, look!” Pushing his hand over his hair, he moved his fringe out of the way, Rhysand’s eyes going comically wide as he stepped closer to get a look at it. “I fell off the climbing frame!”

His frantic gaze swept to you as he ran a thumb over his son’s forehead, the other hand settling on your hip subconsciously, but all your attention seemed to fix on the way his thumb swept over your waist in a matching way. 

“I took care of it all, don’t worry.” You mustered the best smile you could, getting a whiff of his expensive work cologne when he dipped down to press a kiss to the same spot you had when tucking Nyx into the car. He examined the cut a little more, frowning at the mark on his son’s face, and you wanted to say something, to reassure him, to quash the thoughts about being a bad father that you knew were flying through his head. Before you could speak, though, he was acting once again.

He nodded, seeming to have already fought the war inside his own mind, and if the way his shoulder’s slumped from their tightened position, he’d won this one. Leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead too, your breath caught in your throat at the intimate brush of his lips over your skin. Rhysand had always been affectionate, this part of your friendship was nothing new, but somehow, it had become so much more than a flirty comment or wink. Your eyes fluttered shut, pressing selfishly into that hint of affection as it dragged on just a second too long, warmth coating your cheeks when he pulled back. 

“Give me five minutes to finish this meeting up, wait in my office.” His attention moved to his son. “You can get one toy out, just one.”

At the mention of the toy-box tucked away in the back corner of the office, Nyx’s face lit up, hands clapping together excitedly, and Rhys chuckled at him. “Do you need anything?”

“We’ll be fine.” You’d been to his office more times than you could count, knowing the building like the back of your hand. “Go finish up, gods know you didn’t make me suffer through your rehearsals a thousand times just to mess it all up now.”

He only smirked, adjusting his blazer and ruffling his son’s hair, cautious of his injury. “I’ll be with you soon, darling.” Before you could respond, he was placing a quick kiss on your cheek, and backing away and returning to work, the door closing behind him. 

When you stared at his empty space a little too long, Nyx let out an impatient sigh. “I want to play with the racing cars, darling.”

“Hey, now, cheeky! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were feeling absolutely fine, and perhaps I should take you back to school!” 

Nyx burst out into more laughter, shaking his head and clinging to you. Even if his movements did make it harder to carry him, you didn’t care, grinning at the enthusiasm and excitement on his face. As soon as you had the office door open, he was squirming in your arms to get down, racing over to the box in the corner the second his feet were touching the floor. 

Tearing off the lid, you flicked the light on, shutting the door and frowning as he began to pile toys up all along the floor. “Nyx, your dad just told you only one toy. Pick one, put the rest back.”

“But the cars all count as one, I have to get the whole set out!”

“Nope. You know that’s not how it works.” He scowled, but remained silent, making a point of pulling out the black truck with flames on the wheels, the one you hated, because it made terrible sound effects of grating engines and monster trucks. Piling the rest of the toys back inside haphazardly, the lid remained off the box, and he switched the volume up, glancing at you as he did. You only granted him a sigh, collapsing down into the plush leather chair of Rhysand’s desk.

Five minutes of watching Nyx push the truck around the floor and over every surface as he made car sounds himself soon slipped into ten. He changed toys to a small fluffy dog, and at fifteen minutes, an action figure. Just as he was setting up for his meeting with the plastic army man, Rhys appeared at the door, tugging his tie loose and smiling when you straightened in his chair. 

Tucking the tie down into his suit pocket, he circled the desk, eyeing Nyx on the floor, who didn’t even bother to look up from his life-or-death mission. Taking a seat in one of the cushioned meeting chairs on the other side of the desk, he turned a questioning gaze to you, raising an eyebrow.

“He climbed too high on the climbing frame at school, and slipped when another kid tried to help him down. He got all checked out by the school first aid, he’s totally fine. No dizziness or headaches or nausea, nothing wrong. Just a bruise and a bump.” It didn’t stop Rhys from worrying, rolling his lower lip between his teeth as his gaze moved back to his joyfully-distracted son. “Rhys.”

He didn’t look up, biting down on that lip harder. With one hand, he popped free the button on his collar, and the one below, taking a deep breath. 

“Rhysand.” With a firmer tone, you managed to gain his attention, a reluctant stare shifting to you, and you held your hands out across the desk, palms up. Wiggling your fingers, he placed one hand in both of yours, sighing sadly at the look on your face as you squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Nyx is fine, I made sure of it. I checked him out myself, signed the forms after reading them, and I’ve been keeping an eye on him. Look at him. He’s perfectly okay.”

“I’m sorry you had to leave work.” He whispered, ashamed gaze trailing to your joined hands, the edges of his lips barely flickering as you smoothed your thumbs over his knuckles. He squeezed a little harder, tugging a little closer, ensuring you weren’t letting go just yet. You’d had no intention to, anyway.

Tugging on your hands a little more, he guided you around the desk, back to your feet until you were standing before him, between his knees, and he could tip forwards to brace his head against your ribs. He still held tight to one of your hands, running his fingers over your skin now, but you managed to fight one hand free. With it, you patted his hair softly, smoothing over it until he let out a shaky but light breath. 

“Thank you.”

“You know I’d do anything for you two. Absolutely anything, you have nothing to thank me for, or say sorry for.” He only nodded, tipping his head up enough that the tip of his nose dragged over your skin, until his chin was propped there instead, glancing up at you.

“Not true, I’m thankful for you every single day.”

You willed your body not to react, not to give you away, other than the small smile you offered him, settling with your hand on the nape of his neck for a second. It was intimate, romantic, far too much for friendship, and the sudden flash of thought made your spine stiffen, and your hand retract down to sit safely on his shoulder instead. “Rhys?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Why does Nyx’s school have me listed as his mother?”

He blinked, once. “What?”

“When they called, they asked me if I was his mom, and I never got a chance to correct her before she was telling me everything. Then when I got there, she said it again.”

He was silent for a moment, before sitting up once again, disentangling himself from you and putting on an easy-going smile to match his shrug as he slumped back into the seat. “I have no idea. Maybe she just got confused, or forgot.”

“Okay…” You gave only a moment's pause, leaning yourself on the edge of the desk beside you, and crossing your arms. “Well, why does your receptionist think I’m your wife?”

“She’s new.” The words rolled off of his tongue so fast it was like he’d planned them, your brows shooting up a little. “I mean, you come in here carrying Nyx, and what else would she know?”

Despite his casual demeanour, a soft layer of pink tinged those tan cheeks, so faint you’d hardly notice it if you weren’t so good at reading him. His eyes studied you for a second, a deep look as he stared, gaze taking you in just as much as you seemed to take him in. There was a lull, a pause, like so many moments lately where the air seemed positively charged between you both, lingering on an adrenaline-filled precipice and just waiting for something to happen.

Rhys broke it, just a second before it would have become too much for you, too. Clearing his throat, he caught Nyx’s attention. “Why don’t we go and get some ice-cream, buddy? Put the toy away and we can go right now.”

“Before dinner?” The child’s eyes widened, throwing the army man into the box without a care for the way he slammed off of the wall, all love gone now at the mention of ice-cream. Clicking the lid back into place, you watched them interact in a daze, the joking and chatter becoming background noise. 

You’d never given yourself a chance to think before, too scared to get your heart broken and to lose them both, but a small flame of hope in the back of your heart had been steadily growing bigger and brighter, and it was starting to become hard to ignore. 

Only when a small hand slipped into yours did you snap out of it, Nyx swinging happily with one hand in yours and the other in his father’s, telling him all about the school work he’d done as Rhysand grabbed for his briefcase and coat. Once he’d acquired them, you were on the move, trailing through the building in much the same way, swinging Nyx between your bodies and letting him bounce excitedly at the prospect of frozen sugar before a healthy meal. 

As you wandered through the lobby, you took stock of yourselves, noting just how much the three of you really did resemble a family. The receptionist would be right to assume, simply from what it looked like. And, even if the teacher did know you hadn't been, from the number of mornings you’d dropped Nyx at school or picked him up at the end of the day, it could easily be misread as merely a development in a complicated relationship. 

Perhaps, it was nothing more than a misunderstanding, and Rhys was right. 

The butterflies in your stomach died down to a heavy weight. One of both relief, and disappointment you refused to acknowledge, the hot flush of anxiety cooling into a steady calm, and you were finally able to take a deep breath once again as you reached the car.

“We just need to grab his bag and forms from my car, and-”

“You’re not coming for ice-cream?” Rhys’ head snapped up from where he’d been looking down at his son, brows furrowing at you, and Nyx fell silent, turning to stare up with an identical look of confusion. 

“You don’t like ice-cream?” He echoed in his father’s tone, the two were far too alike for your good, and Nyx was nothing if not a clone of his father. One silver lining had always been that Nyx seemed to be 99% Rhys, only getting 1% from his mother. It was the smattering of freckles over his nose that only came out in the summer.

“Of course, I like ice-cream.” You tapped at the tip of Nyx’s nose and he beamed.

“So, you’re gonna’ come with us, then?” Your gaze moved from him, to Rhys, whose brows only furrowed further. 

“What’re you lookin’ at me for? You know you’ve always got a place with us. Frankly, if you decided to move in tomorrow, I wouldn't bat an eye.”

Your eyes rolled, and when you were looking back at him, he was grinning. “What about my car?”

“I’ll drive you back here to get it.”

“What about work?” You motioned to the building behind you, and he opened his car door, motioning for Nyx to hop up into the back. 

“I own the company, I can take off an afternoon to be with the people I care about.”

“What about-” He leaned in close enough that your noses almost brushed, a smirk forming on his lips at the hitch in your breath, cutting off your words.

“Shut up, get in the car, and let me take my family for ice-cream.”

You couldn’t breathe, never mind form a response, that word ricocheting through the inside of your skull like a bullet. Nudging you to the side, Rhys opened the passenger door, motioning you too, until you were sinking into the spacious car and letting him close the door behind you. 

By the time he’d strapped in his son and gotten into the car himself, you’d regained your calm and your ability to speak. “You’re bossy.”

“I’m the boss.”

“Not in this car, you’re not.” You muttered under your breath, his chuckle only dulled by the purr of the engine as the SUV roared to life. Setting the car into gear, he cast a cheeky look in your direction. 

“Oh, I know. You’ve been calling the shots here since the day I met you, and I’m just fine with that.”

He settled a hand on your knee, innocently enough, after turning on kid’s songs to match your car to keep Nyx happy. He never flinched, never even glanced at his hand on you, like it was the most normal and natural thing in the world. The scariest part, was that it felt exactly that way to you, too.

Nothing about it seemed wrong, or off, and the longer you stared at his hand, the more you wanted to take it. To lace your fingers together, set your hands in your lap after kissing his knuckles. Despite your attempts to push it down, it was seeming more and more like your ignorance of your situationship with Rhysand was making itself known.

It didn’t make sense. You were perfect together, in every other way, so why had he never made a move in this way? The spike of confused pain through your chest stung like a needle through the heart.

The drive to the ice-cream parlour didn’t give you much time to think, everything today was too fast, not enough time to think or clear your head. Before you knew it, you were pulled to a stop, Rhys climbing from the car to release his son who was practically tearing out of his car-seat to get to his favourite dessert store. He could have done with the run, the walk, anything to burn off some of that energy, but Rhys scooped him up into his arms, pressing several kisses to his son’s head, who only moaned and pushed at his father’s head.

He didn’t want kisses, he wanted sprinkles.

Too bad Rhys was beating himself up again about it all. Freeing yourself from the car to alleviate his worries, you squeezed his arm as you stepped out, shooting him a look to tell him that Nyx was more than okay. “One bumped head does not make you the world’s worst dad. Kids have accidents all the time, but look how happy he is right now.”

He didn’t need to look, shuffling his son to his hip and reaching out for your hand instead as he nodded. Lifting it up, he placed a kiss on the back of your hand before lacing your fingers together.

There was a bell tinkling over your head as Rhysand guided you into the cold store, looking for all the world, once again, like a real family, and you allowed yourself a few selfish seconds to eat it up. Finally, Nyx gained his freedom, darting over to the large glass display cabinet and plastering himself to the front of it as he took in all the flavours available today.

By the time the two of you had reached the front of the queue, he’d seemingly made up his mind, turning to stare at you both with a look on his face that could only mean trouble. 

“You pick what you want, bud?”

Rhys’ cautious tone meant he’d picked it up too, his hand squeezing a little tighter around your own when you chuckled, cutting you a glare as Nyx rolled on the balls of his feet and nodded. “I want the chocolate fudge, two scoops,” He held up two small fingers, for emphasis. “With chocolate sauce and the little fudge-chunk sprinkles.”

The woman behind the counter only laughed, staring down at him adoringly as he placed his hands on his hips, expectantly. Rhys’ eyes widened, his head shaking a little. “How about vanilla, with strawberry sauce, and rainbow sprinkles?”

“Ew, yucky, no.” Nyx’s face crumpled, and Rhysand’s jaw dropped, glancing from his son to you, and back. 

“It was your favourite last time.”

“But, this time my favourite is chocolate fudge with chocolate sauce and fudge chunks, Daddy!” Nyx stated it like it was obvious, and you tugged on your connected hands to bring an indignant Rhys’ attention to you. 

“Oh, let him have his chocolate-fudge extravaganza, he bumped his head.” Rhys’ only scowled, muttering under his breath about being ‘ganged up on’, before nodding to the woman behind the till but indicating for only one scoop. 

“You’re putting him to bed when he gets a sugar rush.” Was all Rhys could snipe back with, a smile forming on your lips against your control once again, letting him lead you over to the display stand as Nyx watched his ice-cream being constructed with rapt attention. Turning from the cabinet to you, he nudged his nose lightly against your temple, a feeling that had blood rushing to your cheeks and your head spinning at the intimacy. “The usual?”

“Yeah.” Your voice broke a little as you spoke the single syllable, and had you been capable of speaking properly at the time, you were sure you’d have been a little more embarrassed about it. 

“One raspberry victoria-sponge chunk ice-cream with, two scoops, and one triple-scoop rocky road.” He added to the order, the woman only nodding, piling them up on top of the counter as Nyx tried to reach for his, sparkles in his eyes as he stared at his sickly-sweet monstrosity in awe. 

Lifting it down for him, you stuck a wooden spoon into the cardboard cup holding it, a soft ‘thank you’ tumbling from his lips as he accepted it, cradling the pot patiently in his hands like it was a rare treasure. You remembered the same look being on Rhys’ face when he’d first held his son, the same tender and gentle astonishment, the shock in his eyes at something so special. You could only smile. 

“Darling,” Rhys tugged on your arm, your head snapping up from Nyx to look at him, only to find both his eyes and the servers on you. You hummed, brows raising, and watching Rhys balancing two ice-cream cones in his hand. “I said, can you get my wallet? It’s in my jacket pocket, your side.”

“Oh! Right, sure.” Twisting to him, he smoothed his thumb over your hand in silent appreciation as you rooted around the inside of his pocket, fingers brushing across worn black leather, and pulling it free. 

You were more than familiar with Rhys’ money and his cards, he often handed you a small fold of notes or one of his shiny cards whenever you took Nyx out or needed to buy something, refusing to ever let you pay, but you rarely held the whole wallet.

Flipping it open, your eyes scanned over the folds inside to search for the right card, but your gaze snagged on the fold of an image inside. Pinned lightly behind clear plastic, the image preserved perfectly, was a picture of you and Nyx. You remembered the moment clearly, you’d been out with the whole family, one of the rare moments that Azriel had been home at the same time Mor was back from travels and Cassian had a day off. Amren even freed the day up to sit in the park with you all, celebrating Nyx’s third birthday. Mor had been on her Polaroid camera hype, and you didn’t even know she’d snapped this picture. 

Nyx’s hands were on your face, pushing your sunglasses on upside down after he’d finished playing with them. He was stood between your legs, the sundress you’d worn that day still had small stains from the muddy bottoms of his shoes, but the smile on his face that was caught in the picture was worth it. You rubbed a hand over the plastic protecting it, treasuring that day with all of your heart, and uncovering Rhys’ writing at the bottom as you did.

‘My loves’.

“Darling, the purple card. C’mon, the ice-cream is getting warm.” He nudged you again, Nyx staring pleadingly from the ground below as he clutched his treat, still waiting, and you slipped the purple card out with your thumb. Tapping it against the car reader and being sure to add a tip to compensate for your daydreaming, you slid the card back, sliding the wallet back into his pocket as the three of you found a table.

Just because you could no longer see the picture, didn’t mean it, and, more importantly, the caption, wasn’t seared into your mind. My loves. If he truly felt that way, why hadn't Rhysand ever made a move? It didn’t make sense, you’d been here since before Nyx had even been born, almost a decade of best-friendship and flirty comments that never became anything more, while secretly harbouring a picture of you in his wallet and holding your hand, kissing your forehead and smiling in a way that read as far more than just friends.

You’d barely even settled into the booth before Nyx was digging into his ice-cream, and your hand finally being freed and you were given your cone. Twisting it around and towards yourself, your eyes narrowed a little on the chunk missing from the side, somewhere where an obviously large piece of cake had been pulled out, and your glare turned to Rhys.

“You ate some of my ice-cream?”

“We always share, stop acting so surprised about it.” He grinned, taking a large scoop from his own, and you scowled at him. 

“I hadn't even tried it yet, and you ate the best piece of cake!” He only smirked. 

“Do you want to try my ice-cream?” Nyx offered, and you turned to look at him across the table. His hand was gripping the spoon like he was stirring in a cauldron, the contents inside had been churned up into a gloopy mess, and he held a spoonful of it out to you, chocolate and fudge-covered cheeks stretched in a smile. 

“That’s okay, Nyxie, it’s all for you.” You passed your cone back to Rhys after unwrapping the napkin from around it. “Hold this, and don’t eat any more.”

He nodded dutifully, but eyed another piece of cake hidden within the ice-cream nonetheless, as he ate his own. There was a particularly large piece of dark chocolate with a marshmallow on the side of his own that he’d yet to notice, and you stored that away for revenge. Reaching across the table, you wiped at Nyx’s cheeks, unsure why you’d bothered since he was only going to end up in the same state again soon, but you did your best with the sticky mess anyway.

You gave up when he got ice-cream on your hand too, refusing to pause eating even when you tried to clean him up. Leaving the scrunched-up napkin on the table, his father only chuckled in your ear and handed you your cone back. Turning to him, you held out your other hand. Wiggling your fingers, his face pinched for a second, before he sighed, giving in. He pulled that same face every time, despite being right that you always shared, a victorious smile on your face. 

You made a point of turning the cone, flashing the delicious chunk of chocolate and marshmallow to him, watching his jaw drop to stop you, but not fast enough. Clamping your mouth down around it, you pulled the chunk free, chocolate melting across your tongue as you let out a moan of appreciation.

His eyes flared, leaning in and snatching his cone back, but leaving his face close enough to your own that when you licked over your lips, you almost licked him too. “You’re so cruel to me.”

“Payback is a… well, you know the saying.” You smirked, ensuring not to swear in front of the child across the table from you both, and he only growled a little. His eyes flickered over your face, every spot his gaze touched made your skin burst out with heat, lingering for a moment on your mouth. He smirked, raising a hand, and brushing his thumb along the edge of your mouth as he pulled back a fraction.

“You missed a spot.” He breathed, thumb slipping to settle on your chin instead, and his eyes found yours once again. The air between you both crackled like it never had before, electricity sparking between you both again, but so much more intense. “I, uhm, I’ve been meaning to talk to you lately...”

“Yeah? Well, we never see each other, I can see how it’d be hard to find the time.” You teased, his softly sighed laugh brushing over your face as his gaze held yours. Smoothing his thumb along your jaw until he was cupping your face, it was only when a drop of ice-cream dripped from your cone and onto your finger, the cold sending a jolt through you that made you gasp and snap back. 

Glancing down at it, you winced, licking away any more drops that looked like they may fall, and using Nyx’s napkin to wipe your fingers. When you turned back to Rhys he was facing the table again, eating his ice-cream and acting as though nothing had happened. The bubble was broken, whatever he was going to say he clearly wasn’t planning on anymore, and so you let it pass.

You ate your ice-creams together, conversation steadily flowing onto other topics, far safer ones, no doubt, and you did your best to clean up Nyx’s face once again. Smears of chocolate covered his cheeks, and you knew Rhys would have to scrub it off later before bed. 

The ride back to the office was where you grew to regret convincing Rhysand to allow Nyx’s choice, his sugar rush beginning to kick in at full force. He screamed his songs at the top of his lungs, loud enough to make you both wince as you drove, bouncing chaotically in his seat and threatening to break right out like a miniature beast. 

The hand, now sitting on your lower thigh rather than your knee, squeezed at a particularly loud shriek as he played with the window settings, up and down, up and down. “This is your fault.”

“I know!” You wailed, glancing back at Nyx, who was all but vibrating as he rocked side to side, giggling hysterically to himself. “I figured the sauce would be sugar-free, and fudge isn’t that much sugar, it’s like-”

“It’s half sugar!”

“What?” Your eyes widened a little, turning to look at Rhys with wide eyes, and he contained his laughter as he watched the road, trying to tune out the din from the backseat. “Regardless, I apologise for this.” There would be no calming him now.

Rhys rubbed his hand up and down your thigh softly. “I already told you, that's your problem. You think I’m going to let you go home and leave me with this?”

“I have some very important work to do-”

“Liar.” He called your bluff, and you scowled, turning your glare on his hand as it set warmth firing along all of your nerves. 

When he finally pulled back into the parking lot, it was considerably emptier than it had been when you’d left, and he spun to park across two full spaces into place beside your car. He left the car with a happy sigh, closing the noise that his son was making inside the vehicle, and rolling his neck from side to side. Finally, he opened his son’s side, lifting the boy from his chair and setting him on the concrete, where he immediately began to jump up and down, holding onto his dad’s hand.

The pair accompanied you to your car, retrieving the school bags and taking them back to their own while you gathered the correct forms from the glovebox, meeting him by the back of the SUV that made your car look tiny in comparison. You pressed them into his hands, and he tucked them into the front pocket of Nyx’s bag, setting his son off to put the bags away, who remarkably, did as told.

“I know you said no thanks, but, thank you for today. I mean it, you were so wonderful. You’re always so wonderful, I couldn't do any of this without you.”

“Any time, Rhys. You know that.” He shrugged, hands tucking into the pockets of his smart pants, leaning against the side of the car only a foot away from you.

“I know, but that doesn’t make me any less lucky to have found you, and to get to keep you in my life.” 

Small padding of feet came rushing back, bags no longer in sight but a picture clutched in his hands to be held up in the air as he came to a stop. It was decorated with pieces of glued-on dried pasta, glitter and sequins, and some splatters of paint. The most important part, though, was the drawing at the bottom. 

You’d grown used to his style of drawing now, easily able to pick out what each scribble was supposed to be, or rather, who each scribble was supposed to be, and the attempt at writing underneath. It didn’t matter, though, because he was quick to enthusiastically point it all out. 

“Look, look! It’s us! This is daddy, in purple. And this is you in blue, because it’s your favourite colour. And this is me! I’m wearing a crown.” His chest puffed up proudly, the broken piece of pasta on his head acting like a crown, and you traced the words written in matching colours under each figure. 

Daddy. Nyx. Mommy.

Casting a look up, Rhys was staring at the paper, a horribly crushing mix of longing and pain in his eyes as he stared at it, throat bobbing in a swallow, before he was blinking it away. He’d always been good at playing another role, hiding his feelings when he needed to, but you’d caught him too many times. 

All the pining and want, you’d always assumed it had been for Feyre, for the missing woman who had birthed his son, but when his eyes met yours, the façade cracking just a touch, you allowed yourself to wonder if maybe it was for you. Whatever it was today, this last few months, it was something new. It was like those walls you’d built up were finally crumbling, he was fighting through his own, and he let out a shaky sigh. 

He let Nyx lower the photo, occupied with admiring his artwork. He leaned down, lips finding your cheek and lingering there in a soft kiss. You hooked a finger under his chin, twisting his head up until your noses were brushing, his eyes snapping open wide before you, as your lips brushed lightly. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I was thinking about kissing you.” You whispered, your voice shaking as you second-guessed yourself, second-guessed it all. His hand found your hip, smoothing around to sit on your lower back and tugging you close enough that your chests pressed together, his forehead resting on yours. 

He didn’t pull away, he didn’t stop you, he just gave you your chance to decide. 

So, you did. 

You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a delicate kiss that set your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies, and drew a soft noise from Rhys as he tightened his hold on you. After only a second of hesitation, he kissed you back, a push and pull with his lips that was as intoxicating as it was grounding. You felt like you were floating, tethered only to him as you gave into a desire you never thought you could have, his lips melding to yours in slow drags. 

It felt like it went on forever, and you were certain that you could easily have stayed there, just like that, for the rest of your life. 

When he let you breathe, when your mouths fell only an inch apart, you wanted to nudge closer to him once again, to seal yourself back to him, to sink into him wholly and entirely and never come apart again. If the tight grip he had on your hip was any indication, Rhysand felt the same way.

The fog cleared after a few moments, and he shifted back some more, eyes fluttering open once again, and this time, they were filled with questions. Swirling in the violet like a storm brewing at dusk, and you lifted a hand, running a finger over his cheek lightly, and smiling when his head tipped into your touch. 

“I’m so telling Uncle Azzy that you kissed Daddy.”

You practically jumped out of your skin, having forgotten about the babbling little boy at your feet, who was now staring up at you both in nothing but shock and smugness, one hand planted on his hip as the picture that had sealed the deal hung limply from the other.

“Daddy and-” You scooped him up before he could even get started into that little riddle, the taunting making your cheeks warm, even if he was only four, and making your way back toward the car. Rhys shuffled along behind you in a silent daze, holding the door open for you and standing by as you tucked Nyx back into his car seat. He never gave up on his childlike-smirk. 

“How about some dinner, huh? A little someone can have his favourite mac n’ cheese.”

“It's me! It’s me!” He cheered happily, and you took the opportunity while his arms were raised to strap the belt around his waist, sealing him back into the chair as his arms strapped through the other two. “I’m calling Uncle Azzy tonight. And Uncle Cassie.”

“You do that, Nyxie.” You bopped the end of his nose, switching on the small TV set that was attached to the headrest to face his way, and watching it load up. You could feel Rhys’ stare burning into you, like a fire crawling along your skin, impatient and needy and desperate for answers, making you grateful for this small distraction as you scrolled the shows on the tablet.

Like a warning, a warning not to make him wait much longer, Rhys settled one large hand over your hip, squeezing tightly and tugging you a fraction out of the car towards him, a shiver travelling down your spine. You hit play on the first show up. 

Backing out of the car to close the door, you didn’t get far, Rhys didn’t move, only pulling your body back into his with the grip on your waist, slamming the door shut for you and leaving you pressed to him. In a quick spin, he had your back pressed to the cold metal of the car, out of sight of his son and closed in by your own, the cold metal making for a relieving contrast to the heat. 

“Do it again.” There was a pleading note to his voice, his sights fixed entirely on your mouth now as he bit down on his lower lip, his forehead coming to rest on yours. “Kiss me again.”

You took your time, teasing him just a little, by running your hands up his arms, over his shoulders as he tensed, until you were holding his face. He sagged closer to you, like he couldn't even hold himself up anymore, pinning you between his body and the car. With a sweep of your thumbs over his cheeks, his eyes closed, noses brushing in sweet motions until he gave an aggravated breath at the waiting.

At long last, you gave in, closing the gap between you both once again. This time, he let out a soft moan when your mouths connected. He kissed like a man starved, like a man who had waited every moment of his life for this. It was like your first taste of air after being underwater, his mouth insistent and unrelenting, like he was memorising the way it felt to kiss you.

You gave him all you had, committing every part of him to memory too. Every sound he made, the way he panted against your lips before diving back in, teeth scraping your lower lip and sucking softly, before following it with a sharp nip. He ruined everyone else, no kiss you’d ever had compared to this and nothing else ever would. 

When his tongue smoothed over your lower lip, you were forced to pull back, to try and think somewhat clearly, one of you had to, because if you let this go on anymore, you weren’t sure you could stop. His hand was already shifting, exploring, dragging his fingertips up your spine to tangle in your hair, and you lowered yours to his shoulders, pushing him back just enough to take a breath that didn’t taste like him. 

He groaned, licking over his swollen lips to take away the taste of you, his eyes darker than before when they found you again, and you pressed your lips together to fight temptation. “You should… you should get our boy home.”

At that, he blinked, his gaze softening endlessly at the endearing claim, and his hand let your hair go to slip back to your back. Pulling you closer, he pressed a wet kiss to your cheek, nodding against your temple as he left a kiss there too. When he pulled back, it was to simply stare. There was nothing hidden now, the kind of dumb-in-love look shining in his eyes that you couldn't miss. Had it always been there, and you’d just never seen it before, or had he just stopped hiding it?

“You okay, Rhysie?”

He melted into you at the nickname you rarely brought out, eyes shining as he continued to stare. “So, so very okay, darling.”

Silence lingered between you both, the same comfortable quiet it had been since day one. No matter what, no matter how anxious or nervous or rattling, Rhys always had a way of making you feel at ease. You felt so vulnerable, and yet so safe with him, voice coming out in a whisper to speak into the gap between you both, “Can I ask you a question, Rhys?”

“Are you going to ask me if we can have carbonara with chicken for dinner again?” He teased, putting your nerves even more at ease, or maybe it was for his own, by making a joke. 

You indulged him, “It’s a classic for a reason, because it’s so good. Besides, who said I’m coming for dinner, anyway?”

“You think there’s any way I’m going to be able to let go of you now?” He mumbled, head dropping down to rest on your shoulder instead, and you chuckled, feeling his lips press a soft kiss to your shoulder through your jumper. “What did you really want to ask?”

That brought the nerves back in full force. “Why did nothing ever, y’know, happen between us?”

His head snapped up, eyes widening to look at you, but no words came from his parted lips. 

“Don’t you ever think about it, Rhys? I mean, look at us. There’s so much that would work, and I guess-”

“Of course I think about it.” He breathed the words in a rush, and your jaw snapped shut as words finally began to pour out of him, unrestrained and uncontrolled. “I think about it all the time. Every minute of every day you’re on my mind.”

“Rhys…” He let out a slow breath, but there was no stopping him now. You’d uncorked the bottle, the contents unable to be stopped from spilling. 

“Since the day I met you all those years ago, I knew that I would hold onto you for the rest of my life. I couldn't let you go. But, I was a stupid kid who just inherited a company, and I was terrified of that. I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. You just dropped into my life and filled holes and cracks I didn’t know I had, you made me feel complete. I fell for you, so hard and so fast, and I was so godsdamned scared of that.” He looked away, unable to look at you any longer, and swallowing thickly. 

“So, we became friends…”

“So, we became friends.” He repeated, sighing like he couldn't hold the weight of the world anymore. “I thought, selfishly, that I could hold onto you as my best friend, until I was ready for more. That it would be fine. I was too slow, though, and you started dating Lucien.”

Your mind flickered back, hardly remembering the man you’d been with for only a couple of months almost six years ago, flashes of red hair and tanned skin in your mind recalling it.

“He was good to you, and I hated that. I hated him, but I wanted you to be happy. But, I was so miserable. I was so sickeningly, maddeningly, obviously in love with you, and I had to do something before you noticed. So, I dated Feyre. It wasn’t… we moved too quickly, too fast. I threw myself into it and then she got pregnant. Nyx came along, and she abandoned him. I thought I’d lose you too. I was scared again, but you stayed. You helped with everything, you made it better.” 

His voice started to crack, and so your arms raised, looping around his neck, pulling him in until his forehead was pressed to your own. 

“I wasn’t scared when you were there. You taught me everything, you stayed for every step. I knew within days that you should have been Nyx’s mother, that being with you like this was all I’d ever want, I started to want everything cliché, a white picket fence and a little house of our own and a street where Nyx could learn to ride a bike with us. I mean, I picked out the house you liked best from the viewings even though it was gonna cost so fuckin’ much to renovate and repair and clean, but it was so worth it.” He laughed emptily, and you sniffed back tears.

“I had no idea.”

“I know, I never told you. I wanted you to see your dream house without the guilt.” He rubbed at his nose, and you kissed his cheeks, feeling him smile under your lips as you did, stopping the tears clinging to his lashes from falling. “But, you were still with Lucien, so I settled to take what I could get. If having you as my friend, helping me raise him like this, was all I could ever have, I’d take it. Then, you weren’t, and I thought maybe you’d be heartbroken about your break-up, or sad, and I wanted to give you time. I gave you too much time, I was a coward, I was nothing but a lonely man who already had a son. I couldn't offer you all the things you wanted anymore. I couldn't travel or go out and party or do anything. I’m always working or with my boy, and I didn’t want you to be forced to take that on.”

You were shocked, his candour had left you breathless, and he sniffled lightly, blinking away the tears he was unwilling to let drop. “We broke up because of you.”

“What?” He let himself look up, to you, of all the expectations he’d seemingly braced himself for, this obviously wasn’t it.

“Lucien and I. He- he said, understandably, that it felt strange to have a relationship with a woman who was practically a part of another family. It made him feel like some sort of home-wrecker. He didn’t say it, and he never would’ve, he was a good man, but it was a choice. You and Nyx, or him.” Giving the best smile you could despite the emotions overwhelming you, he matched it with a watery laugh. “I didn’t even have to think about it. That’s why I was never sad.”

“You chose us.”

“I’ll always choose you.” Your smiles were real this time, shared and intimate and frighteningly tender. “So, the real question, is whether you’re still sickeningly, maddeningly in love with me?”

“You forgot ‘obviously’. I can’t believe you don’t know it, I haven’t been subtle. I tell everyone you’re my wife, and let them believe you’re Nyx’s mom.” Your scoff only made him smirk, smacking at his shoulder lightly, pushing him away only to have him grip you tighter, tugging you closer to him. 

“I knew those weren’t ‘little mistakes’, or miscommunications!” He only shrugged, dipping back in, every intention clear as he moved slowly. 

“I intended to tell you today, and so many other times, but I was always so scared of losing you.” The confession hung between you both, the unspoken promises and words as he tried to give you a chance to leave, to back away, to call it too much, but you didn’t. 

You let him kiss you, let him kiss you until your lungs burned for oxygen and your head was spinning, and it felt like hours had passed by as you learned one another’s mouths. You let him kiss you until you were sure he understood that you felt the same, that you always had.

“I still love you. I will always love you. You don’t just get over this kind of love.”

You could only grin at him, cheeks aching but you didn’t care, because you couldn't have contained your happiness even if you’d wanted to. “Good, because it would have been horrible if my feelings were unrequited.”

“Never.” A few more stolen kisses, mumbled promises between them. “So, you’ll follow us home for dinner?”

The leap in your chest at the word home was enough to make you breathless, the knowledge you now had that he’d chosen it just for you, in hopes you’d one day live with them. It was almost too much to bear. “Only if you’re making carbonara. And garlic bread.”

“I’ll make you anything you want if it means you’ll keep kissing me.” You hummed, pressing another peck to his lips before managing to disentangle yourself, despite his complaints and tight hold.

“I’ll see you soon, where we can continue this.”

“Don’t take too long, I’ll miss you too much.” He winked, looking messy and kiss-ruined as you stepped back to fully take him in. His shirt was rumpled, his blazer was a little askew, and his cheeks were flushed red, swollen lips to match. 

He was perfect. 

“Hurry home to us, darling.”

puki I failed my drivers test because I saw a cute dog and missed a turn wtf do I do :(((((

First you see a cute dog and miss a turn, next thing you know you see a cute dog and you're T-boning a family of four across the intersection. Cute dogs are for a time and a place.

Wine & Dine (carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader)

18+ account - minors do not interact

carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader

Word Count: 6430ish+

Rating: E

Summary: You own a wine shop across the street from The Bear, and you have struck a deal with Carmen Berzatto that allows people to purchase wine from your shop and enjoy it at The Bear. Over time, your unexpected partnership with the quiet restaurant owner & head chef grows beyond just sharing wine and food.

Warning: slow burn (this happens over months in my mind), language, mutual pining (idiots in love crushing on one another), alcohol, mentions of Mikey’s death, allusions to slight family drama on the readers end, brief jealousy (Carmy is a jealous boi), fluff, flirting & sexual tension, competence kink? (Carmy builds something and reader feels things), kissing, sexual touching 18+, praise, dirty talk (Carmy and his filthy mouth), implied p in v sex

A/N: This is my first-time writing a Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto fic and writing for the Bear Universe. I can’t tell if this will just be a one-time thing, but with Season 3 coming out so soon, the brain-rot is real. This show is immaculate, and Carmen is such a complex character. I originally was going to use this idea and make it a Joel Miller AU fic (my obsession for that fictional man is concerning), but I decided to take a chance at writing for another fandom. I know nothing about the fine dining world / what food pairs well with wine so let’s pretend in this story that what I’m saying makes sense. I want to thank the following people that helped me with understanding tags in the Bear Universe: @nolita-fairytale, @violentdelightsandviolentends, @sunflowersteves and especially @nicksolemnlyswears / @mysingularitybts who convinced me to post this story.

xx

Chicago, Illinois The BEEF is CLOSED. Thank you for your patronage. THE BEAR is COMING.

The first time you met Carmen Berzatto, he was about to have his soft opening of the Bear for Friends and Family night. However, you had watched him and his crew from across the street for months getting the restaurant ready. You recall when a sign for The Beef, the beloved Italian beef sandwich shop had announced its closing, it had genuinely shocked you and a lot of people in the neighborhood.

He walked into your shop nervously and was scanning a bunch of different bottles, focused on the whites.

“How can I assist you sir?” you asked, and up close, you saw that he had piercing blue eyes. Eyes that you could lose yourself in.

“Um, I’m openin’ up the restaurant cross’ the street in a couple of days and uh, I-I’m tryin’ to find a wine that compliments one of our dishes. Right now… somethin’ is just not right,” he quickly rushed out.

“What’s the dish?”

“Seared scallops with an herby fish sauce vinaigrette, the Chardonnay I’m usin’ is just… it’s not hittin’ at all,” he let out a frustrated sigh and gripped his hair tightly in frustration.

“A Chardonnay won’t work, especially if your scallops are seared,” you suggested, starting to walk to locate the bottle that you thought would work better. “Chardonnay is often a go-to for scallops, but it can overpower the delicate flavors. What type of Chardonnay are you using?”

“A 2020 Racines Bentrock Vineyard Chardonnay,” he replied, looking at you with those beautiful eyes.  

“That’s an amazing bottle. But it’s a Chardonnay that is intensely buttery, which is probably what is causing the clash,” You picked up a mineral-driven Sancerre from the Loire Valley of France and handed the bottle to him. “Try this, it’s dry, bright, and acidic. Its minerality and citrus notes will complement the brininess of the scallops without overwhelming them,”

“I didn’t even think about usin’ somethin’ made from Sauvignon Blanc grapes. You don’t think the acidity would cut through the richness of the dish?”

“No, I think it will enhance the flavor, and it will complement the freshness of the scallops and the vinaigrette perfectly. I mean in fairness, I haven’t tried your dish,” you said with a shrug. “So, I guess I’m sort of giving you advice blindly, but I have a good hunch,” you continued with a smile. “So, take the bottle and try it out, and then let me know if it pairs well or if I was a complete idiot with my suggestion,”

You could see him pause for a moment looking down at the bottle; his brow furrowed in contemplation as he considered your recommendation. When he looked back up at you, you realized how distracting his face was and that he was devastatingly handsome. Your eyes were flickering between his eyes and his mouth as you two fell silent. You suddenly felt a huge desire to run your fingers through his luscious locks.

“I trust you…somethin’ tells me y’a know what you’re saying,” he said, sounding hopeful, but a little unsure. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house,” you informed him.

“Wait what?” he asked with an adorable frown of confusion.

“Consider it a friendly neighborhood present… opening a restaurant isn’t easy,” you assured him.

“Thank you,” he breathed your name looking at your chest, and confusion crossed your face wondering how this handsome stranger knew your name since you had never given it to him during this entire exchange. Then, his finger pointed down at your chest, where your name tag was pinned neatly in place. Realization dawned on you as you felt your cheeks heat, realizing he had been reading your name tag.

He cleared his throat and looked over at you a little sheepishly. “Nice to meet you, um, I’m – uh, my name’s Carmen,”

“Carmen”, you repeated, enjoying the way his name rolled off your tongue.

“Well, um, I have to go… uh, but see you around,” he stammered out and then started walking toward the front door and stepped out. As he crossed the street, he turned around to look at you before entering his restaurant and lifted his hand in a wave that you returned shyly.

“See you around,” you whispered to yourself.

The next day when you opened up the wine shop, you found a note that had been slipped under the door and bent down to pick it up.

You’re a genius.

– Carmen

xx

Through your conversations, you began to develop a mutual respect and admiration for each other's expertise. The Bear had a successful opening and Carmen and his team started bringing you dishes to taste. In the beginning, he would mostly come in with Sydney and then they started bringing Tina and Ebra as well to get their opinions on the wine pairings as well. You also worked with Marcus sometimes to provide wine recommendations for his mouth-watering desserts. Sometimes, even Ritchie would stop by to shoot the shit and pretend he understood what you were saying.

You found yourself eager to recommend wines that you thought would complement The Bear’s dishes, and Carmen and the team started incorporating your suggestions into the menu. Then one day you suggested the idea of allowing customers to purchase wine from your shop and enjoy it at The Bear, letting Carmen know that it would draw more people to both businesses. Customers who may not have visited your shop otherwise now would have a reason to come in, and vice versa for The Bear.

Over the next few weeks, as word spread about the successful wine partnership between your wine shop and The Bear, more and more customers began to visit both establishments. The collaboration proved to be a win-win for both businesses, as customers enjoyed the unique experience of sampling exceptional wines while dining on The Bear’s exquisite dishes.

You noticed a change in Carmen as you spent more alone time with him. He started coming to your shop without the rest of the team bringing you dishes to try, and you felt that he began to open up and show more of his personality. He was quiet, observant, and very focused. There were moments when he struggled to communicate his feelings and emotions, often choosing to stay silent. But as you got to know him better, you realized that he was actually quite thoughtful and deep. He had a unique perspective on things and was eager to learn and grow. Although he may not have been the most outgoing person, his quiet demeanor hid a kind heart and a passionate mind.

You found yourself enjoying conversations with him, as he had a way of making you think and see things in a different light. He had a knack for analyzing situations and offering insightful solutions, showing a level of maturity beyond his years.

“So, I googled you,” you said one day when he brought you over a Spicy Rigatoni Vodka pasta dish he was considering implementing for the menu. Carmen didn’t believe in static menus, he preferred a series of menus that rotated after a specific period with rotating entrees, seasonal dishes, and regional specialties.

"I had no idea you were such a big deal," you said, your eyes wide with admiration. He was so fucking amazing.

"Oh, um, it's nothin’, really," he mumbled, unable to meet your gaze. He blushed as you marveled at his impressive CV, detailing his rise to fame as a culinary prodigy. You could tell he was modest about his achievements, not one to boast about his success.

“So, I guess I have to ask. Why did you come back to Chicago?”

He shuffled his feet, and you could tell he felt slightly uncomfortable with the question. "My brother…” he paused, “Mikey… That was his name. He died and left me the restaurant in his will," he confessed, his voice slightly shaky.

You looked at him with concern, reaching out to touch his hand. "I'm so sorry, Carmy. That must have been really hard for you." You heard his friends and family calling him that, so you decided to try to nickname out since he was sharing something so personal, and you wanted to soothe him somehow. He looked into your eyes with gratitude and vulnerability. Without saying a word, he laced his fingers with yours, intertwining them in a gentle, reassuring grip.

Carmen shrugged, looking down at the table. "Yeah, it’s been tough. I dunno. Sometimes, I just feel so lost, y’a know?" His grip tightened slightly, as if seeking solace in the connection between you both, a silent reassurance that you were there for him in that moment of vulnerability.

You nodded sympathetically, and fell silent, unsure of what to say. You realized that Carmen probably preferred it that way. He probably just wanted to be heard, understood, and supported without the need for empty expressions of sympathy.

As you had expected, he quickly shifted the conversation back to you tasting the food and dropped your hand, and you felt yourself missing his touch immediately. He watched you take a couple of bites of the pasta that he had brought over for you. “So, what do y’a think?” he asked shyly.

You decided to take a few more final bites before replying. It tasted like a symphony of flavors – the heat from the red pepper flakes woke up your senses, while the spicy tomato and creamy vodka sauce soothed and balanced out the spice and added richness to the pasta.

Each bite was a delightful experience that left you wanting more. “Carmy… it’s a gift. What you do… what you have is a gift,” you whispered.

“You really think so?” he asked timidly, staring at you with those crazy blue eyes.

“No,” you said firmly, and you saw his anxiety spike. “I know so,”

His face softened, and you gave him a small smile.

“You’ll need a full-bodied Italian red for this dish, probably a Chianti. A Barolo could work, but I think the Chianti I’m thinking of will be an excellent choice. Let me grab it,” you quickly left the counter to find the Machiavelli Vigna di Fontalle and poured two glasses of wine for you and Carmen.

You both took more bites of the Spicy Rigatoni and brought the glass of wine to your lips, taking a small sip and letting the rich flavors wash over the palate. You closed your eyes and took another sip, savoring the complexity of the wine, letting it linger on your taste buds before swallowing. The wine had a bold and complex flavor profile with hints of dark fruits, spices, and earthy notes, making it a great complement to the richness of the pasta. The wine's smooth tannins and balanced acidity helped cut through the sauce's creaminess.

When you opened your eyes, you found that Carmen was gazing into your eyes with a look of pure intensity. It was a look you had never seen him give you before. His gaze seemed to linger, as if he was trying to convey something to you without saying a word.

You liked Carmen. You felt like it was obvious. Could it be possible that he had feelings for you too? Was it all in your head, or was there something more between you that had been simmering beneath the surface all along? He was so hard to read.

“You know… you have a gift too,” he said, pushing his empty plate away. “Your ability to choose the perfect wine to complement any dish is truly… fuckin’ remarkable,”

You rolled your eyes. “Carmy, that’s silly. I’m not making the wine; I’m just simply drinking it, and then making some suggestions,”

His eyes squinted in disapproval. “You know opening night… do y’a know what dish received the most compliments?

You shook your head.

“It was the scallops, everyone who did the suggested wine pairing with that dish said that the wine enhanced the overall dining experience,” he said softly, his lips slowly curving into a small smile.

You felt a warm glow of pride and satisfaction knowing that your passion and knowledge was being appreciated by him, but it was hard for you to accept it. Your father had been so disappointed when you dropped out of Columbia Law School to run away to Europe and drink wine for a living. You were the youngest of 4 children, and all of your siblings were lawyers, including your hard-to-please father. In a way, you were sort of the odd one out in your family.  “Carmy… It’s really not all that impressive,”

“You have a gift too,” he repeated, his eyes staring into yours, as his comment lingered in the air between you two.

xx

One night, you decided that it was time for you to enjoy The Bear's fine dining experience yourself. Ironically, you had never eaten there. Carmy had never asked you or formally invited you to the restaurant since he would bring his menu items over to the shop for you to taste so that you could provide recommended wine pairings. It was restaurant week in Chicago and The Bear was participating in the special 5-course prix fixe celebration. Therefore, you decided to bring your cousin who was visiting his family from New York who was a total foodie and enjoy your Friday night with him.

As you walked into the restaurant, you were immediately greeted by Sugar at the hostess stand who you had met a few times. She complimented you on your dress and you introduced her to your cousin, and it turned out that they knew each other since they attended rival high schools, and they reminisced on some senior week prank gone wrong. They enjoyed a few playful jabs with one another before she escorted you to the table, where you were impressed by the cozy and elegant atmosphere of the restaurant.

You took in the beautifully set tables, the dim lighting, and the soft music playing in the background. Carmen and the team had done such a terrific job with the place, the rave reviews made so much sense. Ritchie noticed you and walked over to say hello, pulled out your chair, and handed you and your cousin the prix-fixe menu. You narrowed your eyes as you observed Ritchie’s unfriendly gaze toward your cousin since it was certainly out of character for him.

Once Ritchie finished his spiel about restaurant week, you both placed drink orders and then he walked away. You could have sworn you heard him mutter ‘fuckin’ jagoff’ under his breath, but maybe you had just been imagining it.

“I talked to your Dad, and he said your parents are going to the south of France this summer,” your cousin said as he placed the white napkin cloth in his lap.

“How interesting, I lived in Bordeaux for 3 years, and he never visited me once,” you muttered bitterly. Your mother and all your siblings had visited you while you lived out there, even some of your extended family, but your father always had an excuse as to why he couldn’t. ‘Work is so crazy baby girl,’ But deep down, you knew it was because he was disappointed.

“How are things with you two?”

“Well, I’m not married to a Harvard Business School graduate who works at a hedge fund, and I don’t have any babies so it could be better,” you responded sarcastically. “But if I’m honest, since I moved back home to Chicago last year and opened up the shop, much better. We had a big Kumbaya moment, he apologized, admitted he went to therapy, and –

“He went to therapy?” Your cousin interrupted.

“Let’s get real, my mother forced him to go, and he probably hated every second of it,” you chuckled, “But yes, he did… apparently,”

“Well let’s fucking cheers to that,” he said and you two grabbed your cocktails that had just been dropped off by Fak.

The clink of your cocktail glasses echoed softly across the room as you smiled at each other.

“I can’t believe you know Carmen Berzatto. Did you know that the last place he worked at in New York credited him for retaining the restaurant's three stars?” your cousin exclaimed.

You didn’t know that. But it didn’t surprise you. Everything Carmen did was nothing short of spectacular.

“What’s he like?” your cousin asked, clearly intrigued.

“He’s kind of an anxious person, so he can come across as awkward, but he’s really incredible,” you answered honestly. “He’s obviously so passionate about food, and he’s so supportive and encouraging of his crew. It’s really sweet,” You ended up confessing to your cousin about your crush on Carmen over the third course, and he grinned at you while you shared your secret like a little schoolgirl during dinner.

“You don’t think he likes you too?” He asked you when you guys got to the final course, before the dessert. It was foie gras stuffed free-range quail.

You sighed deeply. “I feel like this restaurant and his family, which I’m sensing is totally chaotic are just about the only things he has time for in his life, so no, I think he just sees me as a friend,”

You took a small bite of the dish, savoring the explosion of flavors in your mouth. The rich, buttery foie gras complemented the juicy, tender quail perfectly, creating a melt-in-your-mouth sensation. You closed your eyes in pure bliss, and as you continued to eat, you couldn’t help but marvel at the complexity of flavors and textures in each bite. The dish was so delicious, so perfectly balanced, it had to be one of the best things you had ever eaten.

“What the fuck man, this is so fucking good,” a low groan escaped your cousin's lips.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan of pleasure. “Oh my god, I know,”

“The best thing I can make is… nothing,” he said with a chuckle. You immediately thought back to a time when he had almost burnt down his house making toaster strudel when you two were younger. You laughed so hard that you didn’t hear that someone had approached the table.

You heard a familiar voice say your name and you looked up and saw that it was Carmen.

The blue in his eyes was as gorgeous as ever, so raw, and intense, and you felt your heart race when you watched his mouth part, tongue peeking out to trace his bottom lip.

“I thought that was you,” Carmen cracked a tiny smile, his gaze slid from your face down to your legs, and you felt every inch of it. You were wearing a little black dress, nothing special, but it was figure-hugging, with a plunging neckline and short hemline that showcased your legs.

You offered a tiny wave when his pretty blue eyes met yours. "Chef, this is absolutely incredible," you gushed pointing at your plate, but couldn’t help but notice that Carmen’s lips were narrowed, and his jaw was tense.

“Thank you,” he replied, his lips formed around the words, but his teeth stayed locked.

“Dude, the food has been amazing tonight. We’re huge fans,” your cousin said.

“Oh really?” Carmen responded, his eyes focused only on you and not acknowledging your cousin who was sitting across from you. He then finally turned to him. “Nice to hear that dude,” His voice had an edge to it, and you hadn’t heard him use it before.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Chef, she’s been telling me about this place for months so I’m glad we’re finally checking it out,” your cousin continued, and then winked at you and squeezed your hand across the table.

Carmen blinked, as blankness rolled over his features, and he looked at your cousin with a forced smile.  

You laughed nervously. “Carmy, this is my older cousin, we grew up together. He’s in town for his mom’s birthday. My aunt’s birthday, my mom’s sister, it’s her 60th on Sunday,” you felt silly emphasizing that you two were related but in Carmen’s life, the term ‘Cousin’ was sometimes used for friends.

It was like a flip had switched, and suddenly Carmen reached for your cousin's hand thanking him for coming in tonight, asking him if he was enjoying the experience, and telling him how lucky he was to have you across the street helping The Bear with the wine pairings over the last few months. You were extremely confused but gave Carmen a reassuring smile since you finally felt him begin to relax again. The kitchen was probably crazy tonight, so you could only imagine how he was feeling.

Carmen bit his lip and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked nervous and vulnerable all of a sudden as well. “By the way, don’t worry about the bill tonight. When y’a guys are done for the night, just let Cousin know,”

“Carmy that’s not necess-,” you started to say.

“I said, the bill will be covered. Compliments from the chef,” his tone was final, and you felt insane for feeling turned on by it. His eyebrows lifted and he gave you this look that clearly meant he wasn’t kidding. So, you decided not to push it.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. But, um, if y’a two want to stay past closin’, the team and I are doin’ surprise birthday shots for Sydney,” Carmen informed you both.

You giggled knowing that Sydney was going to hate all the attention on her. “She’s going to kill you, but yeah, that sounds fun,”

“Trust me it wasn’t my idea,” he muttered, as he bent down to kiss your cheek and quickly whispered in your ear, “Thanks for comin’, you look um, really… really nice,”

You were shocked at the act and struggled to respond, feeling tongue-tied and flustered by his words. But once you saw him walk back into the kitchen, you couldn't help but smile at his words, the corners of your lips turning up involuntarily as you tried to hide your face from your cousin,

“Well, I can tell you that he likes you,” he smirked.

“What? How can you tell?”

“Because until you told him who I was, it looked like he was going to punch me in the face and kick me out of this restaurant,” he said while grinning wildly.

xx

After you had visited the restaurant, you started going there a lot more to taste the menu items in the kitchen. You also noticed a shift in your dynamic with Carmen. You felt as though his touch became more frequent… maybe even intimate. You would feel a gentle hand on your lower back as he guided you through the chaotic kitchen. His hand would brush against your arms as he reached for ingredients or utensils. Sometimes, when you talked, he would reach out to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering for a moment before he would pull away. Most recently, you had almost tripped in the kitchen, and he had moved his hands to rest on your shoulders to make sure you were okay, and his fingers caressed your collarbone. You had shivered at his touch, feeling a surge of warmth and longing spread through your body.

The Bear staff was sort of this crazy family, but they made it work somehow. You mostly worked alone in the wine shop and had to depend on yourself for a lot of things. You ran a lean business with only two other employees who were part-time staff. You had an attorney and accountant to help you with beverage alcohol law and accounting, but it wasn’t as though you saw them all the time. In a way, your professional life had always felt a little lonely and The Bear had somehow become a part of your day-to-day, and your feelings for Carmen only grew more and more.

You had started to host weekly wine tastings on Thursdays and had just wrapped up cleaning up the mess from a 10-person party where one of the guys was extremely drunk and kept spilling his wine everywhere when Carmen and Ritchie walked in unexpectedly with a giant delivery box.

“Hey, noticed your name on this box, it was sittin’ in front of the shop next door,” Carmen stated as he dumped it on the counter.

You looked at the box and scowled. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

You had been eagerly awaiting the delivery of a new shipment of wine and had been left without any inventory of this particular Portuguese wine to sell to patrons the day before or the day before that. You were beyond frustrated. This was the third time the shop next door didn’t let you know that a delivery had been mistakenly delivered to them. Now you felt like an asshole, because you had totally bitched out the wine distributor yesterday demanding to know where your delivery was and why you had been left high and dry without any Pico Wine to sell. It was a super unique wine, probably one of the most unique in the world and your rich clientele loved having bottles in their homes. You probably looked batshit crazy explaining this to Carmen and Ritchie.

“Do y’a want me to beat the shit out of em’?” Your eyes grew wide, and your mouth dropped in shock as Ritchie started laughing. “I’m kidding, but do y’a want me to talk to em’ so that they fuckin’ understand?” Ritchie asked as his phone rang. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, looked down, and told you he had to step out since Tiffany was calling him.

You let out a long sigh, and Carmen instantly pulled you in his arms, your face planted firmly against his chest. “You should come to Family tonight, take your mind off this,” he murmured against your skin, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You had never been invited to Family dinner before, it was staff only. “Oh, I know how stressed you guys can get before the dinner rush, I really don’t want to be a bother,”

He scoffed and brushed your hair back once you looked up at him. “You wouldn’t be a bother, please don’t say that,” The look in his eyes was so genuine. “I’m so sorry about your shipment, I know how shitty that can feel,” he said releasing his hold on you and stepping back slightly.

You didn’t want to impose, and you didn’t want Carmen to feel like he had to invite you because you were having a bad day.

“It’s fine, I just need to drink some wine or something to calm down. I guess that’s the perk of this job,” you shrugged.

He peeked at you from beneath his lashes, “Tina cooked Poulet Mafé,”

“Carmy,” you moaned, while you saw him smile at your reaction. You had tasted Tina’s Poulet Mafé in the past. It was 100% the ultimate comfort food with thick peanut sauce with chicken, root vegetables, and cabbage served over rice. It was so fucking good.

“Okay, fine, I’ll come,” you conceded, rolling your eyes, looking away, and pretending you were bothered by it.

You felt a finger brush beneath your chin, as he raised your face to look at him, “Good girl,”

You swallowed a heavy breath and felt your panties get impossibly wet.

xx

“How did I not know that you live above the wine shop?” Carmen asked you one day when he was helping you build your new bar cart. At your last party, one of your friends accidentally crashed into it and broke it, so you ordered a new one on Amazon.

“I guess it never came up,” you replied. It was his first time at your apartment and for some reason, you felt a little nervous. It was probably because as he built the new bar cart, his muscles flexed with each movement as he expertly handled the tools. The veins in his arms bulged as he reached for different tools, his hands skillfully maneuvering as he put the cart together piece by piece. You couldn't help but be mesmerized by the intricate designs of his tattoos. He was so… sexy.

As he worked diligently, you found yourself drawn to his competence, "Do you need any help with that?" you asked softly, biting your lip.

He smiled at you. "Nah, I've got it covered, but could y’a hand me that wrench over there?" he called out, gesturing towards the toolbox, and breaking you out of your trance.

You grabbed the wrench and handed it to him, admiring the way his biceps tensed as he tightened the bolt.

As he put the finishing touches on the bar cart, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having Carmen in your life. As he stood back to admire his handiwork, you couldn't resist planting a kiss on his cheek.

You watched him blush as you thanked him and felt your heart flutter at the sight.

“I owe you a fucking cocktail, take a seat on the couch, and make yourself comfortable,” you told him, as you walked into the kitchen. You decided to make some Aviations. They were simple enough to make with gin, maraschino liqueur, crème de violette, and lemon juice. You effortlessly measured out the ingredients and shook the cocktail shaker and then poured the mixed and chilled cocktails into crystal glasses.

You walked back into the living room, handed Carmen his drink, grabbed a seat next to him, and pulled out some coasters.

You watched intently as he took a sip, and you enjoyed the way his eyes lit up with each sip.

“This is so good, so what now….You’re a fuckin’ mixologist?”he teased.

"What can I say, I have my secret talents,”

“You do,” he paused. “Y’a know I googled you too,” he said slowly. “I saw a picture of you with your Advanced Sommelier lapel pin,”

“And?” you replied.

“Why have you never brought up the fact that you are a trained and certified Advanced Sommelier?”

“It’s not a big deal,” you shrugged.

He rolled his eyes and breathed your name. “That’s literally one of the hardest exams in the hospitality industry,”

“No, the Master Sommelier Exam is the hardest exam,” you quipped.

“So, is that what you wanna do one day?”

“Maybe,” you swallowed thickly, realizing it was something you hadn’t thought about in a long time since moving back to Chicago.

“You should do it,” he softly urged.

You let out a strangled laugh. “I wouldn’t pass,”

“You would, it’s you,” he said, and when you gazed up at him, the intensity of the look in his eyes left no room to doubt that he really believed what he was telling you.

“So, when did you google me?” you deflected, deciding to change the subject, since you never loved to be the center of attention.

“First day I met you,” he replied very quickly.

“What?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

"You were so quick with your response about the scallops," he fumbled with his words. "And when I recrafted the dish and it came out the way it did, I knew that you were special, so I had to look you up,"

You were taken aback by his comment, and he noticed and tried to recover. "I mean, not like special-special, but, you know, talented and stuff," he stumbled over his words.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his flustered state. "So, I'm not special, just talented?" you teased, a playful grin spreading across your face.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," he backtracked. "I do think you're special, you're so special. I mean...uh...you're really amazin’ too,"

You chuckled softly, enjoying his discomfort. "It's okay, I know what you're trying to say," you reassured him. "And I think you're pretty amazing too."

As your eyes locked, he grabbed both of your drinks and set them down on your coffee table and then gently reached out to touch your cheek, making your breath catch in your throat. You felt him lower his face and closed your eyes preparing to feel his lips on yours but then he surprised you by pressing a trail of kisses down your neck and over the curve of your shoulder.

You sighed in contentment, feeling the warmth of his breath on your skin. Each kiss sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you. His touch was gentle yet possessive, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

He slowly brought his lips up to meet yours, “This okay?” he murmured against your lips, his breath strained. You nodded softly. His hand quickly tangled in your hair, and he let out a low groan as he hungrily kissed you, his tongue brushed against your bottom lip before slipping inside your mouth and pushing his tongue against yours. You moaned softly in response, tangling your fingers in his hair as you kissed him back.

"God, I’ve been thinkin’ about this for so long," Carmen whispered breathlessly against your lips, his hands exploring your body eagerly.

“Me too,” You responded by pushing him down further into the cushions of your couch, straddling his lap as you began to grind against him, and felt his cock straining against you underneath his pants.

"Oh, fuck Carmen," you gasped, locking eyes with him as you continued to move against him.

Carmen groaned in response, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "You’re so fuckin’ sexy, I fuckin’ love it when you say my name like that," he confessed, as his tongue traced along your collarbone. You liked knowing that he could be your Carmy in public, and your Carmen in private.

You started to pull the straps down on your sundress, but then he placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you from going any further. You gave him a questioning glance, his chest heaving as he looked into your eyes with a mixture of longing and fear. “Wait,” he muttered. "I... I…can't...we can't do this," he stammered, his voice filled with regret.

"Why not?" you asked, unable to keep the hurt entirely out of your voice.

"Because I'm afraid it will ruin what we have. You’re the only thing that makes sense in my life. I don't wanna lose that, I can’t lose that," he explained, his words heavy with emotion.

"You won’t,” you stated softly, realizing that you couldn't actually make that promise, and so your fingers hesitantly reached for his face. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched as he struggled to find the right words.

“How can you know that?” he sighed.

“I don’t, but I have a good hunch,” you smiled, repeating the words you had told him the first time you two met.

You felt him connect the dots and he opened his eyes and smiled back at you and moved his hands until his fingers traced the tops of your thighs.

“I just want you… me… us to be sure. This will change everythin’ baby,” he whispered, his blue eyes looked darker somehow.

Baby.

You reached out to gently cup his face, bringing his gaze to meet yours. "Carmy, I want everything to change," you confessed.

The assurance you offered seemed to set Carmen off, he leaned forward and kissed you roughly, pulled you closer, and his hands roamed over your body until you were a tangled mess of limbs, and he was now lying on top of you on your couch.

He slipped his hand under your dress, over your panties and you gasped out in pleasure as his fingers rubbed lazy circles against your clothed cunt.

“Carmen,” you whimpered, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“Gotta do this right baby, wanna take my time… get you all nice n’ ready before you take my cock,”

His words made your mouth pop open. You felt the ache between your legs become stronger because you realized that he was talker and that was your favorite.

“I wanna make you feel good with my fingers and my mouth first,” He murmured.

He lifted your dress to your waist, pushed your panties to the side, and looked down and groaned as he rested his hand directly above your heat. “I want to put my mouth right here on this gorgeous pussy,” he praised.

You moaned, trying to focus on what you could say, but you could barely remember how to breathe.

“Words,” he growled, as he looked at you hungrily, eyes dark and hooded.

“I want this. I want you Carmen, god, I want you so bad,”

“Fuck,” he made a throaty noise. “Good girl,” he hissed as his fingers slowly started to circle around your entrance. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, this for me?”

“It’s all for you, I’m yours,” you whispered, feeling vulnerable suddenly.

His eyes softened. “Oh, fuck baby, I’m yours too,” he said placing a gentle kiss on your lips and slipping his fingers inside of you as he swallowed your moans.

That night you learned that Carmen wasn’t as shy as you thought. In fact, Carmen surprised you by taking charge and confidently leading the way.

xx

“Things are a clusterfuck at the restaurant, it’s gonna be a long night, I don’t think I can come over tonight, or else I’m gonna wake you up at like 2 in the mornin’ baby,” Carmen said when he stopped by during his lunch break with an adorable pout on his face.

“That’s okay, I’ll just hang out with my other boyfriend,” you teased across your shoulder as you stocked up on some new wine inventory.

He walked up behind you. “Not funny,” he growled in your ear, as he playfully spanked your ass. You two hadn’t formally had that conversation, but you assumed you were his girlfriend considering how many times he would call you ‘Mine’ during intimate moments, claiming you as his. And you could tell he liked that you had just referred to him as his boyfriend.

“Carmy, it’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you sighed comfortably as you felt his lips edge down the side of your neck and then stop to plant a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“You’re not mad?” he whispered.

“I promise I’m not mad,” you reassured him, knowing his anxiety sometimes got the best of him and turned around to give him a soft kiss on his lips and were about to pull away but then he gripped your face firmly with his hands and pressed your forehead to his.

You two were still so new, it had only been a couple of weeks since you had slept together the first time, and you hadn’t told The Bear staff yet since you two were trying to live in this bubble for a little longer. Even though, if you were honest, you had a feeling they knew. A recent experience in Carmen’s office may have ended with you being just a little too loud.

But, you were pretty sure about one thing.

You were in love with Carmen Berzatto, and even though he hadn’t said it to you yet. You had a good hunch that he was in love with you too.

xx

I wanted to write Carmy in a way that showed that he is the shy and reserved person we all know, but that once he feels comfortable with someone (that he wants to pursue romantically), he subconsciously becomes affectionate and flirtatious. He may not be the most outwardly expressive person, but with the right person, his once hesitant and cautious demeanor softens, revealing a more confident and outgoing side of him. I hope this version of Carmy resonates with people because to me this is how I would envision him during a crush and entering a healthy relationship <3

Also, I was shell shocked to learn from the world of Google how complicated it is to receive the designation of Master Sommelier. There are only 279 in the entire world, and it really is one of the hardest exams in the world with a pass rate of 3-8%. But, I have faith in our reader achieving this feat one day. She’s a queen!

🥝💚 Reblog + Support Writers + Comment 🥝💚 Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

HE IS COMPLETE

His name: Ketamine

He enjoys baking and calisthenics.

He is always down to party.

mr & mrs | liam lawson x reader

Summary: You and Liam were teammates at Hitech for 2021. You had the biggest crush on him, but you were sure he didn't see you as anything more than a little sister. But oh, how a few basic questions could uncover the truth between you.

Warnings: swearing, and I think that's it?

When you walked into work in the Hitech Grand Prix building this morning, you didn’t expect to be playing the fucking newlywed game with your crush. And if you’re being honest with yourself, crush is a light way to put it. You were head over heels for your F2 teammate and best friend, Liam Lawson. There was just something about the New Zealander that always had your heart racing, your legs buckling, and your stomach dropping.

So when you were directed into the garage for a ‘different background’ from other videos you had done with Liam, your stomach lurched. Here this gorgeous man was, in all his Kiwi glory, hair waxed back but falling out of place, jeans hugging the toned curves of his legs and ass and giving you a glorious view of his bulge, and the fucking blue sweater. The same blue sweater he had worn the last time the two of you did a video that had reduced you to a stuttering mess when you first saw him.

But now it is worse. So, so much worse. He was standing in a garage. Around cars, and tyres, and grease, and all of the inanimate objects you found so sinfully appealing, and he was just right in the middle of it looking like that. You just about turned around and walked right back out.

“Mighty Mouse! There you are. I was starting to think I’d have to be the brains and beauty of the operation.” Liam called once he spotted you, and suddenly you remembered why you had never tried making a move on him. He treated you like a little sister. Nicknames like ‘kiddo’ and ‘mighty mouse’ were a regular occurrence, and they never failed to make you squirm.

“Well, you struggle to be anything but the brawn, and I think I’m even starting to overtake you there.” You teased, pushing yourself to stay casual, platonic, familial. There was so much opportunity to flirt with him, but the few times you had tried were brushed off, so you had given up many moons ago.

“Ouch Princess, that hurts.” Liam mocked, his hand cradling his chest and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would be to fall asleep against his chest, curled up after a rough night of-

“Who’re you calling princess, princess?” You shot back, cutting your thoughts off before they continued developing and became an issue. Liam laughed, his arm slung around your shoulder while the two of you walked over to the team that were in charge of running your activity for the afternoon.

“Ok, I don’t know if you guys have heard of it, but this game is called Mr and Mrs, one of you will have a whiteboard and wear headphones while the other tries to guess what the answers to the questions you’re writing down are. Make sense? Ok, great, let’s do an intro and go from there.” One of the guys explained quickly, and you began having flashbacks to an awful 80s game show called The Newlywed Game, and blushed profusely. Having you and Liam in a video titled ‘Mr & Mrs’ was sure to get the fans going, and you couldn’t blame Hitech’s PR plan.

You and Liam settled into the wheely chairs from the office next door, Liam positioning himself in frame of the camera and fixing his stupidly perfect hair when you came barreling toward him with your chair, legs tucked up high so you didn’t cop a chair arm to the knee. Liam screeched when you finally hit him, almost toppling off the chair in surprise while you spun slowly, laughing freely as you did so.

Liam looked over at you, your head thrown back in carefree laughter, the yellow sundress that covered your body made you look radiant, and he was sure he had never seen a sight so beautiful before. Your laughter calmed down, and as you looked over at him, he couldn’t help but send you a lovestruck smile, his eyes dopey with admiration. You blushed slightly, laughing as the team asked if you could do the intro again, but actually introduce what you were doing.

Liam slid out of the frame, and you followed his movements as you could tell a fierce battle was about to commence. Kicking off the ground with force, you tucked your legs up onto the chair again, spinning into Liam so fast, you couldn’t actually see his face before you crashed into him. The two of you exploded in laughter again, laughter and smiles were common between you, and Hitech’s Instagram was full of photos and videos of you and Liam smiling at each other, or doubled over in laughter, clutching onto each other.

“Hi, I’m Liam Lawson, and this is Y/N, we drive for Hitech in Formula 2.” Liam began once you had slowed down your laughter. He kept a firm grip on the arm of your chair, holding you close and still, as your chair really liked spinning around.

“And we’re here to play Mr & Mrs, another game in our long series championship to see who the better teammate is.” You finished, gesturing to yourself subtly, but Liam caught it and pushed your chair away jokingly. As much as you loved the man and wished you could be more, you wouldn’t give up this relationship you have with him for something that might work.

MR & MRS | EDIE-BABY

“Liam, what is Y/N’s favourite colour?” The same guy from before asked, one who Liam still didn’t recognise due to the facemask and hat he was wearing. Nevertheless, he held up a whiteboard where the question was scribbled in messy writing, three multiple choice answers written waiting for not only Liam’s, but also your answer. You had airpods in your ears, connected to the blaring music playing from one of the Hitech employees’ laptops, a whiteboard in your hand that you quickly scribbled out an answer to.

Liam looked over at you, holding the whiteboard to your chest protectively so he wouldn’t cheat, but there was really no way that he could.

“It’s not an answer listed here, but her favourite colour is a light brown. She always says it calms her down because it reminds her of a cafe she went to once back home.” Liam spoke, watching you as he answered. You didn’t hear a word he was saying, bopping your head along to the 2000s hits pumping through the earphones. Liam pulled one of them out, his head nodding over to the camera while you proudly turned the board around, thinking you had gotten one over on Liam.

“My favourite colour is light brown, because it reminds me of the Brew Cafe in my hometown, and it brings a really nostalgic and calm feeling.” You stated, watching the faces of the employees morph from business to shock. You looked over at Liam, who had a smug smile on his face while he listened to your answer.

“There’s no way you could have known that!” You protested, glaring accusingly at the dirty blonde. He laughed in response, and you couldn’t have felt happier in any given moment. Not even the top step of the podium could compare to the warmth spreading in your chest. Little did you know, Liam was feeling the exact same way.

“Y/N earphones back in, Liam your next question. What is Y/N’s favourite song at the moment?” The same guy asked, yet this time there were no multiple choice answers. Liam’s eyes widened, turning to look at you to think of any songs he had heard blasting from your speakers or earphones recently, or something that you had ranted excitedly to him about. He spoke to himself, mumbling about artists and songs he could remember falling from your lips. You twirled a piece of hair around your finger, thinking about the answer to the question, when suddenly it hit him.

He had to wait a few moments as you were slowly writing down your answer, still not 100% sure of yourself. It was only after you had taken an earphone out that you jumped, furiously rubbing out the answer on the whiteboard and writing a new one, looking much more satisfied with the new answer. The team counted down, and as Liam spoke, you almost dropped the whiteboard.

“Feeling Something Bad by Ellise. She’ll start singing it randomly when she concentrates, which is usually a giveaway to what songs she's been listening to recently.” Liam said his answer so confidently that it made you feel as though you were inferior because he knew your favourite song and it took you a decent minute to think of it. Liam got another point as he had gotten two of your answers right, and you were starting to feel competitive.

“Alright Liam, who does Y/N get along with best in the F2 paddock? Oscar Piastri, Dan Ticktum, or you?”

“Oh, oh. Well, she hangs out with Oscar a lot, but I don’t know if she would say they get along better than we do? Like, she’s closer with Oscar but we get along best, if that makes sense? I don’t think it does. I’m gonna say Oscar because I don’t want to be rejected, but I really hope I’m wrong and that she says me.” Liam rambled, finally deciding on Oscar, and when you were told to turn your board around, Liam’s heart sank a little. You had written Oscar, and as you began trying to defend yourself, Liam waved it off and laughed to hide the disappointment in his eyes, but you could see it clear as day. You tried to move on like he did, to keep playing the game like you didn’t hurt her best friend and crush.

You began trying to cheer the Kiwi up, dancing along to the songs playing, and occasionally belting out the chorus. He was laughing along, finally joining you to sing when you were screaming the lyrics to Promiscuous, dancing all around the garage and trying to pull him up around with you. While you were dancing with some of the employees off camera, being recorded for Instagram, Liam was still in frame of the main camera, a fond smile on his face, and anyone who had looked at him could see that he was completely and utterly whipped for you, but you were too caught up in Nelly Furtado to see it yourself.

It was your turn to answer questions now, passing Liam the whiteboard that had a little love note written on it.

I’m going to crush you.

You wrote, and Liam thought it was adorable how competitive you got in trivial games like this, but it always made him try even harder just to give you some semblance of a battle.

“Y/N! How old was Liam when he started karting?” The guy you had begun to think was not an actual Hitech employee asked. The three ages to choose from scribbled on the whiteboard. You studied them for a moment, and could see Liam in the corner of your eye writing out his own answer.

“He was seven, because I remember him telling me that there’s regulations in New Zealand that you can’t race go-karts competitively until you’re seven and then won the race.” You explained, remembering the story he had told you easily, it was one of your favourites, purely because of the joy on Liam’s face when he recounted it.

He turned the board around, showing the exact answer you had given, and he gave you a cheeky smile in response to your silent gloating about getting a point. There was nothing cuter in his eyes than you getting so worked up about a game.

“What is Liam’s pre-race superstition?” Before the board with the question and possible answers came up, your mouth blurted out the answer you already knew all too well.

“He gets in the car from the left.” You practically yelled, and Liam looked at you with wide eyes, not hearing your words but seeing the excitement at knowing the answer.

“How did you know that?” One of the Hitech PR asked as her main priority was to stir up more rumours about the two of you, as it was always good for the team’s press.

“Because I’m just as superstitious about getting in from the right side, so when he found out, he asked the team if we could switch around how our cars are placed in the garage so that we could meet in the middle, do our little ritual, and then get in the car from there.” You explained, watching as Liam wrote down his answer with no idea of the words you were saying.

When Liam turned the board around, he explained the exact same story you had, and you giggled when he finished, showing off a proud smile before putting the pieces together that you had already run the same spiel.

“It’s quite cute that the two of you explain things using basically the same words.” That same PR lady stated. And you almost rolled your eyes, almost. But you caught Liam blushing slightly, and a small, stupid part of you began jumping up and down, because not only did someone think your relationship with Liam was cute, but he blushed at that.

“It happens when you spend so much time with someone. I’ve started picking up Kiwi slang, and he’s learning some of my slang. You don’t realise it until you say something to someone when he’s not there and they’ve got no idea what I mean. It’s so normal for Liam to always be by my side, and me by his that when I’m with other people it feels weird.” You started on a ramble, something you were known for. And then just would… not… fucking… stop. The press officer looked satisfied, but as you had finally gotten your mouth to stop moving, you were scared to look over at Liam.

“Whenever she’s not within arm’s reach, I feel like I’m missing something.” Liam spoke quietly, and you gulped as you heard his words. The man was going to kill you, surely. This little production crew didn’t give a shit about your blossoming romance though, as they hurried you through to the next questions. You and Liam barely looked at eachother, your answers shorter and much more vague than they were before. You just wanted to get out of this chair and go freak out in an empty office somewhere.

“Well, the winner of this round is Liam, which means he has officially overtaken Y/N in the Hitech championship. How do you guys feel about this one?” The producers asked. You would usually have felt a bit of a blow to your chest finding out you had been beaten in two ways, but you truly couldn’t think of anything except your proximity to Liam.

“I think we found out a lot, and I’m glad to finally be ahead in the championship. I think it’s the only time I’ll ever be able to beat Mighty Mouse in anything.” Liam chuckled, reverting back to your ‘little sister’ nickname because he felt like the distance would help him process his emotions.

“Hey, you already beat me in height, age, and supercar experience, you gotta let me have something.” You whined, you looked over at Liam with a pout and puppy eyes, unintentionally making his heart pound out of his chest.

“Well you’re the cuter one of the team, and you’re a hell of a lot smarter than me, so I’d say you’re winning enough. Plus you’re higher up in the drivers standings than me.” Liam replied, leaning closer to stare into your eyes, barely two inches between your faces, you blinked slowly, afraid that any sudden movements would scare him away.

His large hand reached up, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear, then coming to rest at the side of your neck, his thumb resting on your jaw.

“I don’t think you realise what you do to me.” You mumbled, leaning forward very slightly to nudge your nose against Liam’s. His breath hitched, eyes boring into your soul in a way that made you freeze.

“It can’t be any worse than what you do to me. Looking as beautiful as you do, all I want to do is hold you, keep you close, show you off to the world, and I want to call you mine. I want to take you home and show you around my hometown, I want to introduce you to my parents, to take you to parties with my friends, I want to curl up in your apartment watching Harry Potter movies, and I want to dance around the kitchen with you at 2 in the morning making pancakes. I want to live my life with you.” Liam confessed, and for a few moments, you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

You lurched forward, balling your fists up in that stupid blue sweater and pulling him closer. Liam’s eyes closed instinctively as your lips met, the coconut lip balm you applied before you came into the office was shared on your tongues, Liam’s exploring your mouth with vigor. You had never imagined him to be this passionate, this intense. But you had no complaints, his hands tugging you forward until you fell onto his lap, legs slotting in beside his own to straddle him on the wheely chair.

You broke away for a moment to catch your breath, eyes surveying every square inch of Liam’s face to commit it to memory. He truly was a gorgeous man, and you hoped you would get to see him like this many more times to come. He caught the look in your eyes and dove back into your lips, his teeth capturing your bottom lip in a bruising grip, a whimper escaping your lips before someone clearing their throat interrupted you.

“I guess we have everything we need for the video. Thanks you two.”

rookie love | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x hamilton!reader

sure it's a rookie mistake to lose it in a corner, but is it a rookie mistake to fall in love with lewis hamilton's younger sister?

request from the lovely @starfriuts

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI?

f1

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,324,772 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, yourusername & logansargeant

f1: welcome the rookie class of 2023 !! 2021 f2 champion oscar piastri will race for mclaren, 2022 f2 champion y/n hamilton will be racing for aston martin and 2022 f2 runner up logan sargeant will be racing for williams!

view all comments

user1: MY prema girlies

user2: 2019 rookies i am so sorry but there's a new favourite in town

yourusername: two hamiltons on the grid i know that's right 💅 👯‍♀️

lewishamilton: they hate us cause they ain't us

yourusername: they can't handle the sass

lewishamilton: neither can the fia

yourusername: ... yeah i've been briefed :(

user3: okay, walk with me. if y/n does all of grill the grid, lewis might do the secret santa again

user4: hopes and prayers

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm teammates with a rookie hamilton, i think i've seen this film before

yourusername: i lived through that old man, don't think i won't use your own tricks on you

fernandoalo_oficial: well there's no dna test necessary here

yourusername: the slay is hereditary, but clearly skipped your generation

fernandoalo_oficial: HEY

oscarpiastri: get her jade

fernandoalo_oficial: EY?

user5: the way the grid are not ready for how ride or die y/n and oscar are for each other

user6: bro just quoted COCO MONTRESE for her i am so ready

logansargeant: dude we're getting the band back together

oscarpiastri: f1 boyband have nothing on us

yourusername: xnda who?

lewishamilton: :/

yourusername: no one is safe sorry lew @charles_leclerc you're next piano boy

charles_leclerc: WHAT

user7: i know the aston martin pr department sweating buckets with both fernando and y/n

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton and 1,332,551 others

yourusername: the hamilton name comes with the wardrobe

view all comments

user8: finally lewis has some competition

user9: if there's something a hamilton is going to do it's going to be wearing a monochromatic outfit.

lewishamilton: was the third photo really necessary?

yourusername: yes!

lewishamilton: you're so corny

yourusername: i know this man ain't speaking.... DIGITAL FOOTPRINT

lewishamilton: girl. i've read your diary and your code names don't mean SHIT

yourusername: YOU WHAT?

lewishamilton: got bored when you had a work call ?

yourusername: come to aston's hospitality i got something to show you

lewishamilton: just text me

yourusername: no. spoiler: it's my FOOT up your ASS

user10: so i thought the tussles would be between fernando and y/n not y/n and lewis

georgerussell63: this is just how they are, they'll be besties again in like two minutes

oscarpiastri: why is my outfit not on here you said i slayed :(

yourusername: you did slay !!

landonorris: he literally wore a team shirt and chinos

yourusername: yes but on the oscar scale that is a slay

oscarpiastri: exactly

landonorris: ok?

yourusername: watch your tone mr. norris, you're being awfully loud for a ripped skinny jeans owner 🤨

landonorris: ????

oscarpiastri: :)

user11: okay i think i get the whole ride or die thing now

logansargeant: believe me it gets worse

lewishamilton

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,844,902 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: bucket list moment ticked off to share a podium in f1 with my baby sister !!

view all comments

user14: two hamiltons in f1 and on the podium before gta 6

user15: we got two hamiltons on the podium but still can't escape a max win

yourusername: thank you for not posting the picture of me bawling my eyes out

lewishamilton: i thought i'd be nice, just this once. i'm proud of you

yourusername: thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu. insane to be on the podium with my biggest idol

maxverstappen1: y/n that's very kind of you

lewishamilton: really?

yourusername: 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭

maxverstappen1: saw the opportunity and had to go for it

yourusername: i respect that

lewishamilton: but i am your biggest idol right?

yourusername: yes.

user16: max really out here like i will make a double hamilton podium about me LOL

oscarpiastri: that's my best friend GO BEST FRIEND

yourusername: oscar piastri podium coming soon @mclaren get ur shit together

oscarpiastri: PR KNOW SHE DOESN'T MEAN THAT

yourusername: no i mean every word i wanna be on the podium with oscar :(

oscarpiastri: slumber party ?

yourusername: i'll be there @logansargeant u coming?

logansargeant: i don't really feel like third wheeling

this comment was deleted

logansargeant: if you're buying the room service - yeah

user17: LOGAN WE SAW THAT

user18: y/n x oscar truthers we have some more evidence for the board

user19: gets first woman in f1 on the podium... immediately assumes she’s in a relationship with another driver

user20: i see where you're coming from but watch the prema videos and tell me there's no tension there

user21: idk if oscar can handle all of that ...

user22: i have faith in my goofy lil guy

liked by yourusername

user22: WHAT

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 612,094 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: pookie was on the podium

view all comments

user23: okay you shipper bitches may have had a point...

yourusername: when pookie calls you pookie you know it's real

fernandoalo_oficial: i have never felt older than when i listen to you and oscar talk for more than five minutes

yourusername: the girls who get it, get it

oscarpiastri: and the girls who don't.... well

fernandoalo_oficial: i am a 42 year old man

yourusername: and it shows

oscarpiastri: ... oop

user24: oh they annoying... KEEP GOING

lewishamilton: so this is what you left the after party for?

yourusername: yeah and what about it?

lewishamilton: okay like maybe i need to separate you and oscar cause why are you eating me up

yourusername: i'm me but oscar is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse

oscarpiastri: guilty as charged (i learnt everything from your sister)

user25: you guys acting like oscar being like this is a surprise ... we didn't all see him scalp alpine last summer?

user26: the way in my head him and y/n wrote that tweet together and were giggling the whole time

yourusername: we can neither confirm or deny

user27: that's confirmation to me

logansargeant: when will the logan sargeant erasure end?

yourusername: when you serve as much as me?

logansargeant: i am TRYING

yourusername: plus this is an appreciation post for me, stop trying to steal opportunities from women

logansargent: HUH?

oscarpiastri: so disappointing from you logan...

logansargeant: i'm so done with you two

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,309,562 others

yourusername: summer break is annoying i wanna go racing again

view all comments

user31: WHO IS THAT MAN?

user32: my brain (psychosis) tells me it is oscar

user33: i'll believe you

lewishamilton: HOW DARE YOU SOFT LAUNCH WITHOUT TELLING ME

yourusername: girl. sort the tone and i'll call you

lewishamilton: do you think i am dumb? i know exactly who that is, i just need the confirmation so i can beat his ass

yourusername: why would i tell you if you're gonna beat his ass?

lewishamilton: JUST TELL ME

yourusername: you'll have to find me to do that, see you in zandvoort xxx

user34: i think lewis is having brocedes flashbacks

user35: i know bro is PACING

fernandoalo_oficial: you wanna give me a tow in qualifying?

yourusername: why would i do that old man?

fernandoalo_oficial: @lewishamilton i know.

lewishamilton: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? FERNANDO KNOWS?

yourusername: NOT ON PURPOSE HE'S JUST NOSEY AND LIKES TO READ MY TEXTS OVER MY SHOULDER

fernandoalo_oficial: guilty 💅

yourusername: fine. one tow.

fernandoalo_oficial: thanks girly

user36: we have to study the girlypopification of fernando since being teammates with y/n

oscarpiastri: it's missing pookie hours

yourusername: i am having separation anxiety

user37: these hoes think we don't know 😂

user38: they think they're throwing us on their scent ... YALL NOT SUBTLE

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 802,778 others

oscarpiastri: does this count as a win?

view all comments

user39: sorry max we got an oscar win we don't care about your championship win

yourusername: LET'S FUCKING GO POOKIE

oscarpiastri: slumber party is gonna eat i fear (why do we have to race tomorrow?)

yourusername: you know who else ate? YOU TODAY

oscarpiastri: hehehehe i guess i did

yourusername: no i am so fucking proud of you

oscarpiastri: love you

yourusername: luv you too

user40: okay so they're just playing with our feelings now?

landonorris: proud of you bro (please turn down the beyonce)

oscarpiastri: don't make me enter my lemonade era

landonorris: are you threatening me with a brocedes?

oscarpiastri: maybe?

yourusername: lmao watch your ass lando, i gave him the play-by-play i was in the brocedes trenches

lewishamilton: 1. happy for you oscar 2. SHUT THE FUCK UP

oscarpiastri: oops?

yourusername: sorry lewis, we'll stop joking about britney if you finally call him

nicorosberg: stop calling me that

lewishamilton: why are you here?

nicorosberg: just observing...

user41: poor lewis having his trauma used as a joke 😭

logansargeant: i'm defo skipping this slumber party

user42: you want to elaborate?

logansargeant: no. i don't think i will

user43: JUST SPILL

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,903,448 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: got my first win, me and my boyfriend are better than you x

view all comments

user44: I FUCKING KNEW IT

user45: i'm gonna need all the bitches who came for me for shipping them so give me my flowers

oscarpiastri: finally. you're too cute not to kiss all the time

yourusername: then hurry up and come here

oscarpiastri: gladly

user46: no i think he actually went, these bitches usually never shut the fuck up

lewishamilton: ...

georgerussell63: oscar RUN THE BREATHING TECHNIQUES AREN'T WORKING

alexalbon: no he's actually going to scrap you RUN FOR YOUR LIFE

landonorris: those dumbasses don't know what is about to hit them

yourusername: why is logan texting me 911 who is being dramatic

yourusername: wait

yourusername: is that him already

georgerussell63: yes for such a short man he's surprisingly fast

lewishamilton: OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR

yourusername: no!

lewishamilton: I JUST WANNA TALK

oscarpiastri: your tone is scaring me

yourusername: OSCAR NO

lewishamilton: OPEN THE DOOR

user47: it's been 20 mins, can we have an update

oscarpiastri: i am alive!

lewishamilton: regardless of what just happened, i am so proud of you y/n !!

yourusername: i love you big brother :))))))

lewishamilton: you're such an inspiration, here's to many more!

user48: lewis being all supportive now after he's scrapped oscar?

lewishamilton: i didn't fight him, he had 30 seconds to convince me not to kill him

oscarpiastri: i did very well :)

lewishamilton: sure

yourusername: you did great babe

oscarpiastri: :)

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, yourusername and 1,099,457 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: please don't put me into the barriers lewis, i love your sister

view all comments

user51: i think it's safe to say that the 2023 rookies have out done the 2019 rookie sorry not sorry

yourusername: POOKIE, I LOVE YOU POOKIE

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU TOO POOKIE

logansargeant: can i like have a medal or some championship points for 1. dealing with this nonsense and 2. keeping this a secret

yourusername: you're our favourite third wheel? that's all i got

oscarpiastri: we also pay for your room service every time

logansargeant: ... fine

user52: they're all so close to me, need y/n and oscar to be the first husband and wife to both win a championship

yourusername: that's the plan 🤞

oscarpiastri: are you PROPOSING TO ME?

yourusername: not yet...

oscarpiastri: hehehehehehe

lewishamilton: SLAM ON THE BRAKES, I JUST GOT USED TO THIS LET'S NOT BRING UP MARRIAGE

yourusername: maybe you need to leave your slag era so i can wife oscar

lewishamilton: DO NOT SLUTSHAME ME

user53: the hamilton piastri house about to be ground zero for the sassy man apocalypse

landonorris: you people are so grossly in love, how did we miss it?

alexalbon: speak for yourself it was so obvious

yourusername: we we're pretty obvious

oscarpiastri: yeah i can confirm that when we told you we were having a pillow fight, we were not

landonorris: WHAT

lewishamilton: delete this.

fernandoalo_oficial: @yourusername did you guys do this so you didn't have to give me a tow?

yourusername: yes xoxoxo

note: i hope you enjoy. life is insane right now but i got my first article at the top of the google rankings so there's that. also ordered my graduation gown and dress!! much love x

Don't Let Go ✩ Bob Reynolds

Pairings: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. rough sex, emotional sex, public sex, mental health themes (trauma, guilt, PTSD), depictions of breakdowns, emotional, angst, praise kink, possessiveness, aftermath of violence, unprotected p in v, guilt, self-loathing, established trauma bond.

Summary: The mission was supposed to be clean. Routine. But nothing is simple when the Sentry is involved, when Bob loses control, and the Void takes over. And when he does, you're the only one who can pull him back.

Word Count: 4658

Author's Note: don't even ask me if I'm okay cause the answer is no. I'm destroyed. completely destroyed and emotionally wrecked. i am ruined. bob reynolds ruins me. if you finished this and also felt like your heart's been pulled out and kissed back to life, welcome to the club. my inbox is open if you want to send me your therapy bill—just know I’m probably gonna have to come with you cause what the fuck. i love you bobby you're everything to me!!! if you want to be added to my taglist just comment below!! <333 feel free to cry with me in the comments and scream in the reblogs. i need to go outside and touch some grass, reconnect with nature and breathe cause my heart is destroyed after this one. i literally can't stop writing for bob what the hell!! bucky is jealous cause bob's taking up space in my mind that used to belong to bucky. lewis pullman you babygirlllllllllllll

masterlist.

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The mission was supposed to be simple. In and out. Detain the targets, secure the entire facility, and minimize civilian casualties. Standard Thunderbolts cleanup. You'd done this dance before—storm in, assert dominance, extract data and bodies. Easy.

But you knew the moment Bucky said, "Bob's on this one," everything in your chest went cold.

The tower was quiet, too quiet, until it wasn't. Until the entire place was filled with hurried footsteps, shouts bouncing off the walls, and orders being thrown like grenades, gear bags being slammed open, weapons loaded with sharp clicks, and comms lighting up with rapid-fire intel. The whole floor shifted into emergency mode.

You'd barely finished gearing up when Yelena grabbed your arm and dragged you toward the elevator, her expression tight, mouth set in that grim, no-bullshit line that only ever meant bad news.

"Valentina wants all of us on-site," she muttered, pressing the call button with enough force to crack the panel. "Right now. Facility breach. Something about biotech. Hostages."

"Since when do we scramble before briefing?" you asked, yanking the zipper of your new tactical suit closed, holster strap still half-loose dangling on your hip. "Do we even have a plan?"

Yelena didn't answer. She didn't have to.

When the elevator doors opened, Bucky was already inside, pacing back and forth. His jaw clenched, comms piece buzzing with chatter. He looked up when he saw you—but he didn’t smile. Didn’t nod.

Jeez, so much for a good morning.

"Let me guess," you said, stepping into the elevator next to him. "Valentina's stunt?"

"She pulled Bob in last minute," Bucky said, his voice laced with frustration. "Didn't even care to fucking tell me. I found out when I saw his name on the team feed. Walker's there with him, Ava too."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you froze. "She put him first? With Walker?"

“She wants to see if he's still 'field-capable.'" Bucky's voice dripped sarcasm. "Her exact words. She thinks this is some kind of game. Like we're testing out a new drone, not a man who nearly blacked out half of a city six months ago."

“Is she out of her fucking mind?” you hissed. “Bob’s not—he’s not ready. He shouldn't be anywhere near this.”

“No shit,” Yelena muttered from the other side, crossing her arms. “And we’re the ones who’ll have to clean up if he loses it again.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to damp down the rolling anger in your chest. Not at Bob—of course not, this wasn't his fault. You were mad at Valentina and her fucking need to push him to the edge. "Great," you muttered, rubbing your face with a hand. "Let's all just hold hands and pray he doesn't crack."

The VTOL sliced through the clouds like a blade, engines humming low and tense. Rain battered the sides in sharp bursts.

You sat strapped between Yelena and Alexei, your harness tight across your chest, heart beating even tighter beneath it. Across from you, Bucky was locked in, jaw clenched, staring out the side window with a look that could shatter the glass any moment. When he finally looked away from the window, he fixed his gaze directly on you.

"I need you to be ready," he said, voice low and rasped. "In case Void—" He paused, breathing raggedly. "In case Bob snaps."

You blinked. "Bucky—"

"If it happens," he cut you off, "if he breaks... don't wait for an order. Do not hesitate. You hit him with everything you've got."

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

Because you hesitated.

Not because you didn't understand the danger. Not because you didn't know what Bob was capable of when the Void took hold. You'd seen it. Firsthand. The devastation. The aftermath. The look in his eyes—those dark, endless eyes—when he realized what he’d done.

But you'd also seen something else. You'd also seen the other side of him. The guilt

You'd been there the last time. When the Void clawed its way up his throat like poison, he dropped to his knees, shaking, burning with power, guilt, and fear. You were the only one who could get through to him. The only one who could touch him without him recoiling like he might shatter.

You'd whispered his name and watched his fist unclench slowly. You'd put your hand on his chest and feel his heartbeat slow. You'd seen how the black storm slowly evaporated, leaving a broken man sobbing against your chest.

That night was the worst for Bob.

You remember it vividly—his body trembling against yours, eyes wide and hollow after the Void had finally disappeared. He hadn't said a word. Just sank to the ground, hands fisting in his hair, like he was trying to hold his skull together.

You’d dropped down beside him, pulled him close, felt the heat radiating off his skin like a fever breaking. And when he finally clung to you—arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your shoulder—it wasn’t just desperation. It was terror. Like if he let go, he’d fall into some pit that never ended.

He cried.

God, he cried so hard.

And you didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to soothe it away. You just held him. Let him shake. Let him break.

That night, you stayed with him.

He pulled you into bed like he didn’t even realize he was doing it—just moved toward your body like it was instinct, like your presence was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. His fingers curled in your shirt, his face buried in your chest, breath hiccuping between exhausted sobs.

You thought he’d fall asleep eventually.

He didn’t. Not right away.

He kept whispering, voice barely audible: “Don’t leave. Please. Just… don’t leave.”

And how could you?

You didn’t.

So you stayed.

And when he finally passed out—curled around you like a second skin, little soft snores slipping past parted lips—you just watched him. His face was peaceful for once. Almost boyish. His lashes fluttered when he dreamed, but he didn’t cry out. Not with you there.

You tried to slip out once.

Just to stretch. To breathe. But the second your body shifted away, his arms tightened like a vice, dragging you back in, even in his sleep. Like his subconscious couldn’t bear the thought of you disappearing.

From that night on, it became… a thing.

Every time he had a nightmare. Every time the Void started to whisper again. Every time he needed quiet but didn’t know how to ask for it—he came to you.

He never knocked loud. Just a soft tap on your door, barely audible. You’d open it to find him standing there, shoulders hunched, hair messy, eyes big and guilty and so shy. Like he hated himself for needing you but couldn’t help it.

“Can I…?” he’d start to ask, voice barely above a whisper.

And you’d always let him in.

Always.

God, you loved it. Loved being the one person he came to. The one place he felt safe. The way he melted into you the second the door shut. The way he’d sleep tangled in your arms, legs hooked with yours like he needed as many points of contact as possible to stay grounded.

You never told anyone.

You never wanted to ruin it.

It was quiet. Sacred. Yours.

And now, strapped into this VTOL, Bucky’s words still echoing in your ears—“Don’t hesitate. Hit him with everything you’ve got”—all you could think about was how peaceful he looked in your bed. How tightly he held you. How terrified he was of being alone.

Because what if you could reach him again?

What if hitting him wasn’t the answer? What if all he needed was someone to see him before he disappeared completely?

Bucky must’ve seen the flicker in your expression, because his voice dropped lower.

“I know you’re close to him. I know he listens to you more than anyone else. But if that stops—if he doesn’t hear you this time... don’t let him take you down with him.”

He’ll hear me, you thought, jaw clenched.

He has to.

Yelena’s hand reached over, slow and steady, her fingers brushing against yours before curling around them. Her grip was warm, firm—anchoring. You turned slightly, meeting her eyes.

She gave you a small, quiet smile. The kind that didn’t promise everything would be okay, just that you wouldn’t be alone when it wasn’t.

“It’ll be alright,” she whispered. "We'll be right behind you."

You squeezed her hand back, once.

"Visuals confirm contact inside the facility," the pilot’s voice crackled through the comms. "We’ve got movement near the lab sector. Hostiles engaged. Sentry’s already on-site."

You looked up sharply. "Already?"

He wasn’t supposed to engage alone.

Bucky swore under his breath, ripping the earpiece out and jamming it back in. "Why the fuck didn’t you wait for us—"

Ava spoke through the comms, her voice shivering. “He didn’t wait. I told him to stand down, and he just… went in.”

Then the ground came into view through the viewport—flames licking up from the roof of the biotech facility, smoke pluming into the sky, the perimeter in total disarray.

"Doors open in twenty seconds," the pilot called.

You shivered. You could feel it. That humming tension in your bones, the kind that only came right before everything went to hell.

He's already slipping.

"Get ready," Bucky barked, snapping his rifle into place as he stood. "Move fast, eyes sharp. We don't know how bad it is yet."

Yelena stood up, nodding once, checking her gear. You followed closely behind.

“Hostiles are still active inside,” came another voice—Walker’s, sharp and panicked over comms. “But it’s—fuck, it’s a massacre down here. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing. I can't see him. He’s not fucking responding.”

Your heart clenched.

“Bob,” you whispered, barely audible.

Then: a boom.

A section of the lower level erupted in a plume of golden-white light, fire tearing up through the concrete as the building shook from the force of it. A pulse of energy rippled outward, flattening a chunk of the south wall like paper.

The VTOL lurched slightly from the shockwave.

“Doors opening!” the pilot shouted. “Deploy, deploy—go, go!”

The ramp dropped—and the storm hit you in the face.

Rain. Smoke. Sirens. And somewhere beneath it all, a familiar hum.

You ran.

Boots pounding against the rooftop, leaping the last few feet to the access hatch. Bucky and Yelena flanked you, weapons drawn, slicing through the chaos with practiced precision.

You barely had time to adjust before Bucky grabbed your arm, spinning you toward him. His face was grim, soaked, eyes blazing.

“Go!” he shouted over the roar. “You need to find him!”

“What about—?”

“We’ll handle the rest!” he cut in, already moving, already aiming down the chaos below. “If anyone can reach him before he turns this whole goddamn place to ash—it’s you. Yelena will be right behind you. Walker and Ava are already inside. Go!”

Your breath hitched.

Then you nodded, once, sharp and sure.

And you ran—straight into the smoke, straight into the fire.

Straight toward him.

The inside of the facility was a warzone. Emergency lights flickered through thick smoke. Sparks rained from broken ceiling panels. The walls were scorched, the tile beneath your boots cracked and slick with blood and water. You passed fallen bodies—some hostiles, some just gone, disintegrated into scorched outlines and ash.

He’d been here.

You ran faster. Your breath became shorter. Your fingers twitched at your sides.

And then you saw him.

Floating.

Just inches off the ground, his body trembling with power barely held in check. His suit was torn, soaked, blood-slick. His hair clung to his forehead in damp curls. His hands hung at his sides, fingers curled in like claws.

He hand't noticed you yet. He was talking to himself, low and frantic, like he didn't even realize sound was coming out of his mouth.

“I didn’t mean to—I tried, I tried, they didn’t listen—I told them not to run—why did they run—”

Your heart clenched. You took a breath, steady and slow. Lifted your hands, palms open, non-threatening. Stepped forward, one careful step at a time.

"Bob," you whispered.

His head jerked up like a struck animal. His eyes were pitch black. Not just his pupils. Everything. You could see the Void slowly taking over control of his entire body. Crawling across his skin in veins of shadow, threading through him like poison, claiming more and more by the second. There was nothing human in his face.

Then he saw you.

You took another step forward, heart hammering against your ribs.

"Bob," you said again, softer now.

His lips parted. The black in his eyes shimmered, like something beneath it was trying to break through, trying to remember.

You took another step.

"I'm here," you said, voice steady despite the tremble in your hands. "It's me."

"GET DOWN!" a voice screamed behind you.

You barely turned in time to see the soldier—young, shaken, finger already tightening on the trigger of his rifle, aimed straight at Bob.

“No!” you shouted, throwing a hand out. “Don’t—don’t shoot him!”

But it was too late.

You whipped back toward Bob—and his hand was already rising. Not fast. Slow. Deliberate.

Eyes locked on the soldier, face blank and unreadable, voice low and distant.

“Mine.”

“Bob!” you screamed, adrenaline tearing through your veins like lightning. You rushed toward him, arm outstretched. “STOP! STOP!”

A pulse of black energy burst from his palm. It didn’t make a sound. It didn’t explode. It just erased. The soldier was there—and then he wasn’t.

No scream. No blood. Just a curling wisp of smoke, and a blackened shadow scorched into the tile where he’d stood. Like reality itself had been scrubbed clean.

Your breath caught. Your body froze.

The soldier was gone. Just like that. And Bob? He didn't move. Didn't even flinch. Just stood there, hand still raised, void energy curling around his fingers like it wanted more.

You moved before you even realized it.

You ran.

“BOB!” you screamed, voice hoarse with panic.

You slammed into him, hands flying up to grab his face—rough, desperate, grounding. Your fingers dug into his jaw, into his cheeks, trying to feel him, shake him loose from the darkness overtaking his body.

“Bob! Look at me!” you yelled, tears already slipping down your face. “Fuck—look at me, please!"

His head twitched in your grip, eyes still black, but they widened. Like he didn’t know how you got so close. Like he didn’t even recognize his own name.

“You promised,” you choked out, forehead pressed against his. “You promised you wouldn’t let this happen again. You said I could help you. You let me in. Bob, please, I know you can hear me. Let me in. Let me help you."

And then—

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

The black void in his eyes gone, replaced by fear. Replaced by gut-wrenching guilt.

And suddenly his hands were on you—gripping your arms, trembling hard. Holding you like you were the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

“I didn’t mean to,” he rasped, voice splintering in his throat. “I just… he—he pointed that gun at you. I—”

His knees buckled.

You caught him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he rasped again, clinging like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady, fingers stroking through his hair, down his back. “I know, it’s okay. You’re okay—I got you. I'm right here."

You could feel it under your hands—the tension building again. The static crawling across his skin. He was shaking harder now, like he was trying to hold himself together with bare hands and sheer will, and it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

“I told them,” he growled, voice rising, wild and hoarse. “I told them not to send me. I told them—I told them!”

“Bob,” you tried again, your hands cradling his face, trying to ground him. “Stop—just breathe, okay? Look at me. Just look at me. It’s over. You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Bob—”

“Holy shit,” someone gasped.

You turned. Too fast. The team stood there. Yelena’s eyes were wide. Ava’s mouth hung open. Alexei looked stunned. Bucky was frozen mid-step.

And Walker? Walker’s gaze went straight to the scorched mark on the floor, and his lip curled.

“What the fuck did he do?”

That was it.

You snapped.

“You were supposed to look out for him!” you roared, your voice echoing down the hall like a whipcrack. “You knew he wasn’t ready! You knew, and you left him in there anyway—what the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Don’t yell at me because your little pet project finally snapped—”

You stepped toward him so fast Yelena actually reached out to stop you.

“Say that again, Walker.” you dared, low and deadly. “Say it. Fucking say it again.”

“Guys—” Ava started.

“Oh my god,” Yelena whispered behind you.

And that’s when you realized—Bob wasn’t in your arms anymore.

You turned, panic already in your throat. He was standing a few feet away, eyes locked on the floor, fists clenched. His shoulders were shaking, his jaw tight, like he was about to split open.

The way they were all looking at him. Like he was a monster.

And he saw it. He saw everything.

“No, no, wait—” you started.

But he was already moving. He shoved past you, not roughly—never roughly—but like he couldn’t stand to be touched anymore. Like he didn’t deserve it. And then he ran.

You didn’t hesitate.

You ran after him.

You found him down a back alley, drenched in rain, his back pressed to the wall like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His fists were clenched, jaw tight, chest heaving like he couldn’t catch his breath. He hadn’t looked at you yet, but you could see it—how close he was to falling apart, how the power still surged beneath his skin, barely contained. His body shook with it, with guilt, with the kind of rage that didn’t know where to go.

You took a step closer and he shifted like he was going to bolt again, eyes flicking to the shadows like he could vanish into them.

You grabbed his wrist. Tight. “Don’t run.”

That stopped him. His breath hitched, but he didn’t turn.

“Bob,” you said, softer now, over the pounding rain. “Please. Look at me.”

He turned slowly—and god, the look on his face broke you wide open. Soaked, shattered, eyes full of guilt and too many unsaid things. He looked like he didn’t believe he deserved to stand in front of you. Like just being seen by you hurt.

Then he kissed you.

Hard. Desperate.

Like he needed your mouth to remind him he was still real.

The kiss came out of nowhere. Teeth. Tongue. Desperation. You collided like two storms, all sharp edges and soaked skin. His mouth crushed yours, messy, uncoordinated, bruising. You dragged your hands through his rain-slick hair, pulled him closer until your bodies slammed together. He groaned your name like it hurt to say it, like it ripped something open inside him just to speak it.

You kissed him back with everything you had, dragging your fingers through his soaked curls, pulling him closer, crushing your lips to his until your teeth clacked and your breath fogged the air between you. He whimpered into it, raw and broken, hands clutching your waist through your suit like he didn’t know where to touch, like he needed to touch everywhere.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped against your lips, voice already hoarse. “I’m so fucking sorry—please, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—” His words cut off with a sob. You shushed him with another kiss, slower this time, lips brushing his like a promise.

“I need you,” he breathed, voice broken. “God—I need you, I need you so bad—I can’t—fuck—don’t let go—please, don’t let go—”

Your gear hit the wall behind you, water slapping between you like applause. His mouth was on your throat, biting, sucking, moaning, as your hands worked beneath his already ripped suit, shoving it aside, frantic to get to skin. His hips rocked into yours like he couldn’t stand being apart from you even for a second.

“Please,” he groaned again, breath hot against your ear. “I’ll do anything. Anything. Just—fuck—just let me have you.”

You gasped, arching against him, letting him press you tighter to the bricks. You were already soaked—skin flushed, thighs shaking—and the way he clung to you like you were the only real thing left in his world snapped something open inside you.

You grabbed his face, kissed him hard, desperate. “Take it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Take anything. Everything. I’m all yours, Bob.”

He whimpered—actually whimpered—and that was it.

Your suit came undone in ragged pieces, his hands tearing at fastenings with trembling fingers, your legs wrapping around his waist as he shoved your soaked underwear aside. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, grinding his cock against your slick center until you cried out, nails raking down his back.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re so wet,” he gasped. “You want it, don’t you? You want me to lose it for you—inside you—?”

“Yes,” you sobbed, tilting your head back as he pushed in. “Yes, yes—please—”

He thrust into you in one deep, brutal stroke and you screamed, fingers clawing at his soaked suit, legs tightening around his hips. He was so deep, so hot, so real, and the way he fucked you—fast, rough, relentless—was like he didn’t know if he’d survive without this. Without you.

Every thrust hit something raw, something needy, his voice ragged against your ear. “You’re mine—you’re mine, say it—fuck, say it—”

“I’m yours,” you cried, body shaking. “I’m yours, Bob—fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

He sobbed against your throat, thrusting harder, faster, panting between curses and broken prayers. “You’re perfect—so perfect—god, you feel so good—you make everything quiet. You make it all fucking stop—”

And when you came, it hit like a shockwave—your whole body convulsing around him, mouth open in a wordless scream as he slammed into you, burying himself deep and coming hard, spilling inside you with a desperate cry of your name like it was the only thing anchoring him to this plane.

He held you afterward like he might never let go, still shaking, still breathing like he’d run through hell. His forehead pressed to yours, voice wrecked.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back, and this time, it was a vow.

His breathing was ragged.

Shallow gasps against your neck, chest rising and falling like he was still trying to outrun something only he could see. The rain hadn’t let up. It fell in heavy sheets around you, but neither of you moved. You stayed wrapped around him, trembling, your back against the soaked alley wall, his body still buried in yours, shaking with the aftershocks.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t even lift his head.

His arms stayed locked around your waist like a vise, like if he let go even a little, you’d disappear. You felt him swallow, once, twice—and then his shoulders began to shake in a different way.

“Bob?” you whispered, hand sliding up to the back of his head, fingers weaving through his soaked hair. “Hey. Hey, I’m here.”

He sobbed.

Quiet at first. Just a ragged breath that stuttered out of him like it had been waiting for too long. Then another. And another. His whole body trembled, forehead pressed to your shoulder as he finally—finally—let himself fall apart.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” he choked out. “I tried—I tried so fucking hard—I just wanted to be useful, I wanted to help—and I killed him—”

You shushed him softly, rocking him gently where you stood, your hands stroking down his back.

“You came back to me,” you said, voice low. “That’s all that matters. You came back.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he rasped, holding you tighter. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. “You do. You do. You’re still here. You’re still you. That’s all I care about.”

You stayed like that for what felt like forever—him wrapped around you like a lifeline, your bodies still locked together, breathing in sync. The heat between you slowly cooled, but the weight of it all stayed heavy, real.

Eventually, his head lifted, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks wet.

He looked at you like he didn’t believe you were real. Like maybe you were the only thing left in the world that hadn’t abandoned him.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

You cupped his face, thumb brushing over the scar just below his eye.

“I know,” you said. “But I’ve got you.”

And he leaned into your hand like a man starved for touch.

Back at the tower, everything was chaos—shouting, agents scrambling to do damage control, the team fighting with each other, trying to put the blame on someone—but none of it touched you. Not when you had him. Not when he never once let go of your hand.

You didn't go to the infirmary. Didn't sit through the debrief. Bucky tried to say something, but you just shook your head. Bob didn't even look at him. At no one.

You led him straight to your room.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, his body sagged like the air had left him entirely. You helped him out of the rest of his suit, piece by piece, your fingers gentle even when your heart still ached from the weight of it all. He did the same for you, so soft, so gentle, like he was afraid to hurt you.

You pulled him into your bed without a word.

He followed like he always did. Like he couldn’t not.

He wrapped around you the way he always did—legs tangled, arms tight around your waist, face buried against your neck. But this time it wasn’t just comfort.

It was clinging.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just held on.

You stroked his hair, tracing slow patterns into his scalp, letting your breath match his until he calmed, until that tremble in his shoulders finally stilled.

But he still didn’t sleep.

You felt him shift closer, nose brushing your collarbone. His voice, when it came, was wrecked and so, so quiet.

“Do you think they’ll ever look at me the same?” he asked, voice barely more than a breath.

You didn’t answer right away. You could feel how tightly he was holding his breath, like he was bracing for the worst. You pulled him closer, your fingers threading through the back of his hair, your lips brushing against his forehead.

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered. “They know it. Even if they won’t say it out loud. This—what happened—you didn’t want this. And they know that.”

He didn’t reply, not at first. But you felt it—the way his chest stuttered, how he finally let himself breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, broken.

“I know.”

“I was so close,” he said, voice cracking like glass. “I could feel it. Like I was right there. One more second and I wouldn’t have come back.”

“But you did,” you murmured, pressing your forehead to his. “You came back to me.”

He shuddered, breath hitching again as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Leaving a soft kiss that made your heart clench. “You’re the only one that brings me back,” he whispered. “The only one.”

You didn’t say anything else.

You just held him tighter.

And finally—finally—he started to drift.

It wasn’t peaceful. He twitched. Mumbled things you couldn’t make out. Flinched like his dreams were still trying to drag him under.

But he didn’t wake.

Because you were still there.

And he knew it.

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One of the things I resent most about being Animal Brain Apex Predator trapped in Maximum Productivity Society is that I have to work when the weather is gross, instead of following my natural instinct to burrow myself into something dry and soft and sleep until Optimal Foraging Conditions