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"This is what Kamala did wrong and how she should gave run a better campaign" she did everything the exact opposite of what Hillary Clinton did and in the end it didn't fucking matter because our country hates women, you pretentious fuck.

Kamala and Biden and Hillary all had roughly the same goals. Two of them are women. Let's see how this goes.

You can smarmy yourself into righteousness all you want, but in the end, men just hate women, and lots of women also hate women, and here we are.

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help me manifest blue pennsylvania

like to charge reblog to cast

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perhaps some angst?? reader and jamie break up but fluff at the end because he wins her back 🥹

I’m sorry this took me so long 😭 Not always the best at writing angst. Thanks for requesting!

can’t really say i’m enjoying it now

“What the fuck, Jamie,” you say. “What the actual fuck.”

You’re in Richmond’s boot room after training. You’d been upstairs with Rebecca which is a bit of why you’re even in this mess. 

After all, she’s the one who told you he’d changed.

She’s the one who told him to just go for it.

She’s the one who showed you the interview clip.

You might be on the offensive, but Jamie’s on the defensive.

“I don’t get why you’re so fuckin upset, babe,” he shrugs, attempting nonchalance. His eyes, however, are just as fiery as yours. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Not that big-not that big a deal? Then what is a big deal, Jamie? And don’t ‘babe’ me, you are in absolutely no place to pull that shit after that shit you pulled.”

In another circumstance, that turn of phrase would have made Jamie laugh. Would have made him comment on your command of the English language.

Would have made him kiss you.

Now however, he just throws his hands in the air and says, “It was just an interview. Those are things you say in an interview. ‘Case you forgot, I’m a fucking famous footballer.”

“How can I forget?” you shoot back, arms crossed, “it’s all you ever fucking talk about.”

“At least I’m not a self-absorbed grad student who thinks she’s all that because she ‘makes her own money,’ and ‘has a real job.’” Here Jamie mocks your voice, high pitched and whiny.

All you can see is red. “Damnit Jamie, that is a far cry from telling the entire world about how grateful I am that you decided to date me, and then bragging about how fucking out-of-my-league you are. I’m not some goddamn charity case! And then you had the audacity to make jokes about our private life on live television. Live television, Jamie. Do you know how many people saw that? And are going to see that? It’s not just a joke about yourself anymore. It involves me too.” 

Jamie looks at you, eyes narrowed. He knows he should back down, but he won’t. It’s not in his nature to surrender a fight. “It’s not like anyone’s going to fuckin care, anyway. You’re not even famous, so who gives a shit?”

That catches you off guard. You weren’t famous, that was true, but there were a few more results in a google search of your name these days. Because of Jamie. Some were kind, some were not. 

You knew you had been prickly about it, because you wanted people to know you for you, not as some footballer’s girlfriend. You wanted to be known for your graduate research, for helping people, for something that mattered. 

You had been lashing out as a result, flexing your presumed intelligence in a less-than-graceful manner.

You had seen Jamie bottle up every retort, but now it was all coming out.

He was wrong, but so were you. You know you should back down, but you won’t. It’s not in your nature.

You whisper, “I give a shit, Jamie Tartt. I do. It’s my name but it doesn’t even belong to me anymore. It’s always tied to yours and I can’t get it back.”

You glare at each other in silent anger. The air feels so thick that you could reach out and put a piece in your pocket. There are hot, angry tears in your eyes, and Jamie’s face is red, eyebrows knit together. Your arms are in fists at your sides, and Jamie’s are tightly crossed. Each of you sending the message, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

Finally Jamie speaks up. “You want your fucking name back?” he asks, far too calmly. “You can have it. We’re done.”

For a moment, all you can hear is roaring in your ears. Then- “Fuck you. Fine. You think I’m a self-righteous bitch? At least I know who I am, and I’m working on it instead of pretending to be something I’m not. Have a nice life, Jamie,” you reply, icy voice cooling the fire in your veins. You turn sharply on your heel and walk out of the boot room. You don’t slam the door. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Jamie kicks a bench and lets out a single, “Fuck!”

—

That was three months ago. You booked the first flight you could find back to your parents’ house before you even told them you were coming home for a visit. They were overjoyed to have you, despite the circumstances of your return. 

You managed to keep it together right until the moment you saw your dad’s face at baggage claim, and then you felt everything fall apart. He hugged you as though it was the only thing keeping you from shattering into a million pieces, and you just sobbed.

You spend a month on their couch, slogging through schoolwork and binge-watching tv. Your mom walks with you every morning, claiming she needs someone to keep her from cutting corners. In reality, the fresh air is good for you. She lets you walk in silence, and squeezes your hand the exact moment before a tear falls from your eye.

“He’s just a young man,” she says, “They do dumb things. He’ll learn. I’m sorry he had to learn through you, but you won’t feel this way forever.” 

You tell her once this feels like taking his side. She laughs and says, “Having grace for someone is not the same as taking their side. And anyway, which one of you have I let live in my house for the past three weeks?”

Your dad is less forgiving. You hear your mom talking him out of buying a plane ticket to London. “Violence is not the answer for this,” she says.

You can’t hear your dad’s reply, but it’s something along the lines of “Just wanted to talk to him.”

Your mom laughs. Your dad is downright frightening when he wants to be, violence or no. You catch a snip of “Poor boy, his father- can’t be expected- not excusing-” before you put in some earbuds and slip off to sleep.

Your mom is on your side. She just has the unnerving tendency to understand both sides of an argument. You’re grateful that she doesn’t make any snide comments about Jamie like your sister does, because there’s a part of you that just hurts because that part still loves him, and it feels like slander on his name is slander on yours. 

You try not to note that your name is still inextricably intertwined with his.

— 

Back in Richmond, Jamie is throwing himself fully into football. He doesn’t talk or joke so much anymore, just silently goes through training. He plays better, if anything. He kicks the ball with such precision during matches that the game is won if he’s even remotely near the goal. He is vicious, unforgiving, vengeful toward himself. The team leaves him alone, except Roy and Ted.

Roy still takes him for training every morning and Ted comes over to Jamie’s house with lunch every weekend.

Jamie is still silent.

—

You spend the next two months in Richmond, trying to make new memories in the places that only remind you of Jamie. It’s almost impossible, because all you can think about is his smile, and how his sharp canines glinted in the light. How his hands would catch your waist and thumbs would draw circles on your hipbones. How he could bring you to tears of laughter in a single sentence or well-timed look.

You’re almost at a point of forgiveness when you see a tabloid. You don’t even register the picture because all you can focus on is the bolded name in the headline. It’s Jamie’s name.

You’re sure it’s about some girl he’s with, because what else would be in a tabloid? You roll your eyes and scoff. Typical. Leave it to him to bounce back. You suppose long-term relationships mean nothing to him.

After that, you stay in your flat. You only leave during times you know are impossible to bump into him. 

Things start to get better. If Jamie’s moved on, so can you. You begin going on runs again. You stop by Mae’s now and again to chat with the regulars. She slips you free chips with a wink and a pat on the hand.

You still think about Jamie. He’s on your mind and you wonder if you’re on his. You remember the tabloid and shake your head.

You’re one semester away from graduating, and your research has started to mean something. You google your name once and see your name in a singular footnote in a research paper you helped write. It’s the first result. You smile. 

—

You are so close to having your first Jamie-free day. He hasn’t been the first thing on your mind for two days. You don’t have that feeling of falling, or of guilt. It is a beautiful Thursday morning, so you get up, put on your jogging clothes, then head out the door for a run. It’s a little cloudy but you swear that’s the best weather to exercise in. Less sweaty. You are three months out from your breakup and you are beginning to feel joy again. You turn a corner, thinking about a nice coffee, when you ram straight into something warm and solid. You lose your balance, but strong arms reach out to catch you.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” you cry. “I should have looked where I was-”

Words escape you as you look up into the blue eyes of your rescuer. 

“Hi,” he breathes. “I’ve missed you.”

You’re trapped in his gaze for a minute before-

“Ow!”

You’ve stomped on Jamie’s foot. 

“What was that for?” he asks indignantly. 

“Oh I don’t know,” you reply, “maybe for being a complete asshole? It also could be for snogging whatever model you were with in that tabloid? Real stellar move, showing that much remorse. I’m glad it didn’t take long to get over me. Guess the phrase ‘long-term relationship’ means something different to footballers than it does to us little people.”

Jamie opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. 

“Look, you’re right, I’m a fuckin’ arsehole, but what are you talking about? What model?”

You’re a little thrown off by his admission to being an asshole. “What do you mean, ‘what am I talking about?’ I saw your name show up in some headline and you’re only ever in there for some girl, and I get it, it’s fine that you’ve moved on, it just feels really fucking quick.”

Jamie has the audacity to chuckle. “It weren’t about some model. It was about you.”

You go cold. This can’t be happening again. Jamie Tartt, spilling his guts in some sleazy interview, painting you in the worst light.

He sees the look of absolute horror on your face so he hurries on, “Look. You were right. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. But I did, and I can’t take it back. So I’m doing me best to make it right. It were about a tv interview where they asked about you, and I said we’d broken up. Told them I was a complete prick about everything and I let you slip through my fingers.” For the first time, you take a good look at Jamie’s face. He looks truly awful. Hair floppy (and not in a good way), bloodshot eyes, dark circles. 

He continues, “I know I shouldn’t have been a prick about being famous. It’s just, I get in me fuckin’ head about shit like this. Did the same thing with Keeley. Got scared of something real and knew I’d fuck it up eventually, so I thought I might as well get it over with. And anyway, you’re way out of my league. Figured I might as well let you go before you figured it out. I’ve been- I’ve been getting better. Less dick-like. You can ask anyone, Roy, Coach, whoever. I’m really trying, here. And I know I fucked things between us, and you don’t have to forgive me, but I’m just trying to be better for me and whoever fucking has to put up with me next.” 

You have no words. All you can do is stare at him. You hear your mom’s voice saying, “He’s just a young man. He’ll figure himself out.”

You hear Keeley saying, “he’s grown so much, really, he almost isn’t even the same person anymore.”

You hear Rebecca, as you sat in her office right before Jamie asked you out, telling you, “He’s a shockingly fast learner. Only has to be told something once, and it’s in his head forever. Give him a chance.”

You open your mouth and what comes out is: “I’m sorry too.”

Jamie looks just as shocked that you said that as you are, but you keep going. “My mom talked to me a lot about- about deciding what you can forgive. And I guess, I know I wasn’t blameless. I pushed you away on purpose, and I was aware of every single word that I said that hurt you. She also talked about ‘age-appropriate mistakes.’ She said both you and I made them, and that doesn’t mean I should take you back but that I should at least consider forgiveness. It’s easy to forget that we’re really young, you know? We both have a lot of responsibility, and I forget that it’s ok if we make mistakes. And you being you, your mistakes are more public. I- I needed to figure out if I could deal with it or not. I’m still not sure if I can. I don’t want my life to be on display.”

Jamie nods, expression intent. You take a breath and then continue. “But I guess that I need to figure out which I want more. Privacy, or you. I mean, if that’s even something you want.”

Jamie’s eyes have never left your face. He says, “Always knew I liked your mum,” and then he’s pushing a strand of hair our of your eyes, hesitantly, giving you time to pull away.  

You don’t.

You let him run his fingers through your hair.

You let him kiss you, softly.

You let him back into your life.

I missed you, he had said.

You pull back, smiling. “By the way, I missed you too.”

[smallmercies33]

Could This Be | Masterlist | j.t.

A Completed Series

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: One minute, you're single and working for AFC Richmond as the team's medic. The next minute, you're in a fake relationship with the team's handsome striker who you know next to nothing about..

Warnings: Discussions of Previous Emotional & Physical Domestic Violence. Cussing. Fake Dating

A/N: Back again with my favorite idiot boi. I hope you guys enjoy :)

Masterlist | Main Blog

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

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About You | Masterlist | j.t. |

A Completed Series

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: Your job? Pop culture journalist for The Independent. Your assignment? To write a profile on the cocky footballer that you’re publicly feuding with.

Warnings: Lots of cussing. Some angst. Some fluff. Enemies to lovers

A/N: I’ve never written for Jamie before so i hope I do him justice. Enjoy! :)

Prologue

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Day 7

Day 8

Day 9

Day 10

Day 11

Day 12

Epilogue

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Distractions Masterlist {Jamie Tartt x F!Reader}

playlist | mood board | reader’s instagram | ao3

0. the exit (prologue)

I. london calling 

II. alone at midnight

III. you’re kinda cute 

scene between: stay like this forever

IV. catching feelings

scene between: let’s just play pretend

V. a slight malfunction

VI. nightcall

VII. crawling back to you

VIII. open wound

i like you drabble

IX. slips through my fingers 

X. let me back in

XI. someone to stay

XII. you can feel it on the way home

one shot: dim that spotlight

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Hello! I loved your Jamie Tartt angst and would love more angst that leaves you hurt but resolves itself (I’m too mushy for things ending at angst) maybe self sabotage? I feel like season two Jamie would be good at that since he does want to be better but doesn’t fully believe in himself. Or Jamie is still into Keeley and reader likes Jamie and is icing out Jamie to protect their self? Literally anything there is a Jamie angst deficit 😩 mwah <3

hi anon! sorry it took me so long, school and then writer's block kicked my ass. full disclosure, i didn't read this after i wrote it so sorry for any mistakes! enjoy <3

“Thought you left.”

You close your eyes in despair, thankful at least that Jamie can’t see you. You’d been sure your escape had been a subtle one but here he was– the very person you were trying to avoid following you to the balcony on the less crowded side of the restaurant.

You didn’t think he’d notice. He hadn’t yet– looked at you or talked to you since he came into the team event with Keeley wrapped around his arm, looking gorgeous and worthy of his attention. She had smiled at you, genuinely happy to see you, which made this whole thing entirely more ridiculous. 

You’d thought this was a date. After replaying the interaction between you and Jamie for the umpteenth time, you’ve come to the conclusion that your own excitement blinded you to the reality of it all. When Jamie had asked, all nonchalant without making eye contact, if the PR team would be at the annual team dinner in a non working capacity, you’d let yourself imagine something you couldn’t have only to be left a fool. 

Well. Here you are now, paying the price.  

“Just needed a second,” you try to sound like there’s a smile gracing your lips despite how close you are to tears, but won’t look back to meet Jamie’s eye. He settles at your side soon enough, hands in the pockets of his suit while yours remain gripping the railing, hoping for a full breath that just won’t reach your lungs. “There’s a lot of people in there.”

“You don’t have to be nervous,” he says, hitting the nail on the head regarding your anxiety in crowded places. There’s a reason you work behind the camera, making other people look good while getting to stay away from the limelight. “It’s just the team, right? You’re okay with us.”

You can’t help but agree, even if it sounds a little miserable. “Yeah.”

Jamie doesn’t follow up and you find yourselves enveloped by the silence and the sounds of the street life underneath you. Cars passing by, people chatting and talking, the whistle of the air as it threads through your clothes and bites at your skin. 

“Are you cold?” he asks when you shiver, shifting to take off his jacket and wrap it around your shoulders. You really wish he wouldn’t, stopping him before he can.

“I’m fine,” your voice betrays you and breaks, and you don’t have to look at Jamie to know he’s looking at you now, urgently searching for a sign of discomfort. “I’ll go back in a minute, yeah? I’m right behind you.”

“I don’t mind,” he says, surer than anything else he’s said so far. There’s a steel to his voice now that he’s realized you’re not fine at all, willing to protect you even from yourself. “I like keeping you company.”

“Jamie–” 

“Are you alright?” you have to, you have to look at him, and there’s a furrow to his brow that frames his face so, so nicely. Eyes wide and concerned, one of his hands leaves his pocket to reach for you. He says, softer. “You’re crying.”

“Am not,” you say peluntantly, because you’re not. Not yet at least. You’re cold and tired in your fancy attire and fancier shoes, but you’re not crying. You won’t until you’re in the safety of your apartment, away from the people who care about you. “I’m okay, Jamie, please go back inside.”

“Love,” he says knowingly, tilting his head. His searching hand, after a moment too long of hesitation, touches your cheek. He’s frowning still. You wish he didn’t look so handsome doing so. “We’ve barely talked tonight. I was hoping…”

He drifts off when a loud laugh from inside catches him off guard, quickly retreating back to himself and digging his hand back into his pocket, taking a step back from you. 

It’s such a terrible sequence of events in such a short amount of time that it makes you laugh, a sharp sound that surprises Jamie as much as it seems to hurt him. “I–” he begins, then cuts himself off. 

It dawns on you that this might not be the first time Jamie has been rendered speechless, but it is the first time you’ve seen him scared. 

“It’s fine,” you say. And it’s not. It’s not, but– “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You turn back into the night and wait one, two, five arduous seconds in which Jamie doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself before you hear his steps begin to retreat. Breathing out, you think the worst is over until he speaks, “you look beautiful tonight.”

He stutters. “Always, y’know, but tonight. You do. You do.”

“Can we… can I see you? Before you go?” he wonders.He calls your name when you don’t take the bait, frustration coating his tone. “Come on, I’m tryin’ here, sweetheart. What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” you say, soft, so soft you’re sure he doesn’t hear it. “Nothing, Jamie.”

“Okay,” he says. Then– “I’ve been tryin’ to ask you out for over a month and you won’t let me.”

You want to be angry, but the statement only makes you sad. “Go back to your date.”

Jamie splutters in disbelief. “What?”

“Keeley’s probably wondering where you are,” it sounds accusing even to your own ears, and you hate it. You never intended to get him into trouble or bother him with your feelings for him. “Go back to your date, Jay.”

“That’s not– she’s not–” he blabbers. “Love, please–”

Isaac and Dani, drunk out of their minds, crash into the balcony to wrap their arms around Jamie, too out of it to notice your distress or that you’re even there. They call his name to the melody of Baby Shark, loud and basked in laughter. 

“Ayo, lover boy!” Isaac barks, wiggling his brows suggestively. “Your girl’s lookin’ all over for you! I think she’s ready to go home if you know what I mean.”

“Fuck off,” Jamie snaps, thoroughly upset but barely heard above Dani’s teasing ohhhhh. “Can’t you see I–”

You abruptly turn, barely sparing them a look as you excuse yourself meekly, voice wet and hushed. Jamie tries and fails to hold onto you, calling your name. You only feel the brush of his fingertips on your bare elbow as you escape his grip and leave him behind.

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Follow the beat promp list:

3. He hides his heart and hurt because he kind had to

Sam Carver

Sending love

Tagging: @goldensunshine91 @foxfabled @kmc1989 @district447 @caffeinatedwoman

It’s just sex, Sam tells you after the first night you spend together. A way of blowing off a little steam after the arson case the two of you have been working on.

“Whatever you want.” You say as you slip out from underneath his sheets and begin to put on your clothes.

The thing is Sam doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want you to leave. He wants to spend the night tangled up in you, loving you all over again but his heart, his treacherous fucking heart just won’t allow it.

So he lets you go, watching as you step into those pretty high heels and smooth down your dress before you close the bedroom door behind you.

He doesn’t hear from you after that, the investigations concluded, there’s no reason for you to call. He scrolls back through your messages, the professional ones, the not so professional ones. There’s always a lilt of humour, an undertone of flirting. His thumb hovers over the keys but he stops himself because truly you deserve better than someone whose as fucked up as he is.  

It’s a couple of weeks later he runs into you at a bar, you’re hustling a couple of guys at the pool table and it hits hard because that’s how this thing between the two of you had started. You’d fleeced him of all his cash before he’d put a different kind of prize on the table.

One night, he had said. One night where you’re not a Lieutenant in the Arson Unit and I’m not a firefighter. We’re just Ava and Sam. No rules.

It ended up back at his place with your dress on the floor and his mouth chasing all over bare skin because he couldn’t get enough of you. He still can’t. It’s not just the sex, it’s everything that comes with it, the intimacy, the vulnerability. He wants that with you, the late nights, the early mornings, the days you come home smelling of smoke and he ‘helps you’ in the shower. He wants all of that and more.

When he sees the guy with the man bun put his hand on your lower back so he can show you a trick shot he’s had enough. He takes a twenty out of his wallet and places it on the corner of the pool table, signalling himself as the next contender. Your eyes flicker up to meet his and he can see your surprise etched onto your features as he opens his mouth and says.

“We’re playing for keeps this time.”

Love Sam? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[smallmercies33]

The Evidence Locker: Sam Carver x Reader

Tagging: @goldensunshine91 @foxfabled @kmc1989 @district447 @caffeinatedwoman

Prequel to:

Playing For Keeps - Sam regrets what he said about your first night together.

Big Heart - Sam takes care of you after noticing you're in pain.

Five Stars (NSFW) - Sam's realises his handyman skills do a little something for you.

Sam realises he has feelings for you in the evidence locker of OFI Headquarters. The two of you have been working on an arson investigation together, trying to tie the most recent one to a couple of fires he worked on five years ago when you end up going on a treasure hunt through the archives in the basement.

It’s cramped in there, the imposing metal shelves a little rickety, there’s barely enough room for one person let alone two. You’re constantly bumping arms, shoulders, hips trying to search for the boxes you require. Each tiny shred of physical contact makes him feel like there’s a thousand tiny fireworks erupting through his synapses.

It doesn’t help that because of the evidence, the place is temperature controlled. You’re wearing a sports bra under that crisp white shirt, one that does nothing to hide the hardness of your nipples as you brush past him. The shelf behind you wobbles, and he puts a hand out, using his weight to steady it, bringing his entire body flush against yours.

Christ you feel good, the perfect fit and he imagines stripping that shirt back from your shoulders and getting his mouth all over your chest. You’d be sensitive he thinks, and he wonders if he’d be able to make you come just from paying attention to that particular area. The idea of you riding his thigh as he teases your nipples with his tongue causes a stirring in his pants. His cheeks colour as he looks into your eyes because he knows you must be able to see the heat in his gaze, the yearning, the want.

Your stare strays beyond him, to something on the shelf behind him and your entire face lights up. He thinks he might just fall in love in that moment because he’s never seen something so captivating in all his life.

“We found it.” You say, slipping past him and the moments broken because if there’s one thing he’s learned about you over the past few weeks, it’s that if you get focused on something, your entire attention is on that task.

“I have ADHD.” You had told him when you’d first started working together. “I can get a little fixated sometimes.”

He’s noticed the little tricks you use to get around it, the timers, the color coded priority lists, you need to do things in a certain order, accomplish one thing at a time. Then there’s the pacing, you need move when you think, to talk out your thoughts. They emit from you in a rush, gaining momentum, building until the solution appears or you make a connection. He’d found it disconcerting the first couple of times because he’s reserved, he’s not used to being around someone so expressive but now it’s like poetry in motion, watching you work. He gets how you earned your rank, you’ve turned your condition into a super power, one you use to combat assholes who like setting fire to shit.

“Give me a hand Carver.” You say interrupting his thoughts. “Use that height for something useful.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He says and a flush creeps up your throat.

It's then that he realises that those feelings he’s having, they may not be so one sided after all.

Love Sam? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[smallmercies33]

Halloween Bingo Card 2024: Scary Movies - Sam Carver x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mckinleysbones @wnbweasley @saturnsdevilz

Companion piece to:

The Evidence Locker - Sam realises his feelings for you might be reciprocated.

Scars - Sam thinks his emotional scars are too much for you.

Playing For Keeps - Sam regrets what he said about your first night together.

Big Heart - Sam takes care of you after noticing you're in pain.

Five Stars (NSFW) - Sam's realises his handyman skills do a little something for you.

You don’t realise horror movies aren’t Sam’s thing, not until the two of you are sitting on there in the dark watching Halloween in honour of the upcoming holiday. You’re tucked in against him on the couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, when you start to notice his muscles tense everytime Mike Myers appears on the screen.

At first you think it’s just a fluke but it gets worse and worse as the movie goes on until you pick up the remote and pause the stream.

“Sam…” You say softly because his eyes are closed and his jaw is clenched but it’s like he can’t hear you in that moment, he’s trapped inside his own head re-living whatever nightmare he endured at the hands of his brother.

You shift into his lap, your fingertips ghosting lightly over his cheek as your forehead comes to rest against his.

“Sam baby.”  You whisper and his eyes flicker open, his field of vision filled entirely by you. Your hand slips down to his heart and you can feel it beating wildly underneath your fingertips as you look into his eyes.

“What did he do to you?” You ask and he swallows hard, his gaze never flinching away from yours.

“You’ve seen the scars.” He says, his voice raw and you know he’s not talking about the burns up his left shoulder. He means the four slices just underneath his ribs, the ones that look like a hashtag. “He watched this movie, got a little inspiration. My parents went out to a party, thought we were trick or treating…”

He trails off then, his eyebrows furrowing into a frown.

“He wore the mask.” He tells you and you think in that moment your heart skips a beat because no child can be as fucking evil as Nathan Carver. “He wore the mask the whole time he was cutting me.”

 “Why didn’t you say something before the movie?” You ask him as his hand covers yours, keeping it clasped against his chest.  It helps sometimes, having you pressed against him like this. Already he can feel his panic starting to subside. “We didn’t have to watch it.

“It’s your tradition.” He says quietly. “I didn’t want to mess that up for you.”

This man, this bloody minded stubborn man. He would do anything for you, even if it is to his own detriment.

“Oh Sam.” You murmur, your nose bumping against his. “I don’t want it to be a tradition if it hurts you. Fuck Halloween, we’ll watch Rocky instead, or Casablanca or The Lego Movie if it makes you smile.”

“The Lego Movie.” He huffs a laugh, his fingertips tucking a strand of hair back behind your ear. “How do you always know how to make me smile?”

“Because I’m fucking awesome Sam.” You whisper, your lips brushing over his. “And so are you.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[smallmercies33]

Hiii, I was wondering if you could do an imagine where Dallas and his S/O (she/her pronouns if you don’t mind) get into a bad argument and it leads to the first time Dallas says “I love you”. I understand if you don’t feel comfortable writing this 💗💗

Because I Love You

A/N: So I sort of changed the request :/ Reader is just Dally’s best friend! They’re not together yet when this starts! But I really hope you enjoy it still <3 I’m not overly proud? But it is what it is

Y/N pushed the door to Buck’s place open, the sounds of the party rushing over her. Before she stepped into the crowd, she stepped inside and off to the side, eyes scanning the crowd to try and find Dally.

“Y/N?” a voice called. “What are you doin’ here?”

She just smiled as her eyes caught Dally’s. He was making his way through the people, stopping at her side. He had a beer in hand but didn’t seem to be too buzzed judging by the look in his eyes. “Hey, Dal.”

He tilted his head to the side and took a slow sip of his beer. His eyes scanned over the crowd, looking for someone. “Where’s your date?”

“Well,” she said simply. “He decided a movie meant that he could stick his hand up my skirt. So I left him.”

Dally’s eyes widened and he looked at Y/N in shock. “He did what?”

“He thought that he could run his hand up my leg and under my skirt,” Y/N repeated casually, giving a small shrug. “So I left him in his car and came here. Would you mind if I stayed in your room tonight? My folks were fighting before I left and I really don’t want to go back there tonight.”

His blue eyes darkened and he set his jaw. “You’re tellin’ me he just-,”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Yes. I’ve said it twice now, Dallas, I really don’t want to say it again. I’m going upstairs, I hope you don’t mind.”

Dally caught her arm, making her stop before she could walk away. “Y/N, he can’t just do that to you. Ya gotta do somethin’ about it, let me just-,”

“No,” Y/N replied. “I did something about it, I left. So we’re done, there’s nothing else to do.”

Growling lightly, Dally shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“Get upstairs,” he mumbled, pushing her lightly towards the staircase. “We’re not havin’ this discussion down here.”

Y/N sighed, but she listened and started to push through the people so she could reach the staircase.

“Dally!” Buck called out. “Are you gonna pay for that beer or what?”

“I’ll pay you tomorrow,” Dally said evenly, nudging Y/N forward. He didn’t say anything else until they were both upstairs in his room and the door was closed.

“Dal-,” Y/N started.

“No, you’re gonna listen to me and I don’t want you rollin’ your eyes or nothin’.”

Y/N sighed and gave him a slow blink as she sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Now this guy-,”

“David.”

“David, tried to pull somethin’ with you without your permission?”

“Dally we’ve already-,”

“Yes or no, Y/N.”

She was quiet for a moment, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth before giving a small nod. “Yes.”

“Alright then,” Dally said. He moved to grab his leather jacket from the dresser, sliding his arms into the sleeves. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Y/N scoffed. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To show our friend Davey, that he needs to learn what no means,” Dally said easily. “Stay here, alright? I’ll be back in a bit.”

“No!” Y/N said, hopping up and moving to stand in front of the door.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Dally said. “Just move out the way, alright? I’m takin’ care of this for you.”

“There’s nothing to take care of! I already dealt with this!”

“Y/N this guy tried to put his hand up your skirt!”

“And?” Y/N asked, laughing incredulously. “I can take care of myself! I took care of it myself! I’m not going on another date with him so I don’t even understand why you’re so mad about this!”

“Me?” Dally echoed with a shocked look, pointing to himself. “You don’t understand why I’m mad?”

“Yeah!” Y/N said. “You didn’t even like David, you threw such a fit when I told you I was going out with him. You have no reason to be upset!”

Dally chuckled dryly, shaking his head as he raked his fingers through his hair. “Glory, you really are dense.”

Y/N gasped, frowning. “I am not!”

“Yes, you are! You ever stop to think why I didn’t like David, huh, Y/N? Why I’m so fired up over this?”

She was quiet with her confusion barely suppressed.

“I never liked David, I didn’t like seein’ you with him. And I know you took care of him, I know you can take care of yourself. Honestly, I’m really hopin’ you gave him that right hook of yours! You wanna know why, Y/N?”

It took her a moment to speak up, her eyes flitting around Dally’s face, trying to read the emotions there. “Why?”

“Because I love you. I’ve loved you since we were in grade school, Y/N. I hated seein’ Mark with you and I hated when Charlie asked you to that dance ‘fore I could. I hated when Kenny thought he could just ask you to be his partner on that project even though I already said you were workin’ with me. You always worked with me.”

Y/N’s eyes were wide. She didn’t know what she was expecting from Dally but it definitely wasn’t that. She opened her mouth to say something but when her words failed, she closed it and took a step backward so her back was flush to the door.

“I’ve loved you since were were seven, Y/N. And I thought for sure that you’d notice or somethin’ but you haven’t so I guess that means ya don’t love me back,” Dally said in a rush, panting as if he’d just run a mile. “But that doesn’t matter. I’m still gonna go find David and I’m gonna show what he did was wrong. And he won’t mess with you again, I’ll make sure of that.”

“Dally,” Y/N said softly.

“Just,” Dally mumbled. “Can you just move out of the way?”

Y/N stepped forward suddenly, wrapping her arms around Dally’s neck and crashing her lips onto his in a bruising kiss. Dally made a surprised noise against her mouth before he fully realized what was going and relaxed into the kiss. He let her tangle her fingers in his hair as his hands found her waist.

“I’ve loved you since we were six,” she laughed, pulling away just enough to talk before kissing him again.

Dally laughed and continued to press kiss to the corners of her mouth. “Always gotta win, don’t ya? Always gotta beat me?”

Y/N just smiled. “Of course.”

[smallmercies33]

hi lovely! i was wondering if you could do fluff w dally where the reader and him go on a coffee/tea date? i just think it’d be cute since he’s so tough but he’s going on a date in some small and tacky café🤍

Coffee in the mornin’

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hangover induced diner visits count as a date, right?

Warnings: None! Cute and funny moments with Dallas.

A/N: Thank you for the request! I love picturing Dallas doing stuff like this, you know he totally would if he loved someone enough.

Word Count: 3.1k

Tequila was not your friend, that much was certain whenever the sun poured through Dallas's bedroom window, spilling onto the bedsheets with a glow that would've been welcomed if not for the persistent pounding within the confines of your skull. 

No matter where you began drinking the night before, you always wound up tangled in the mess of thin blankets and covers that shrouded Dallas's mattress. Some were stolen, others he had paid for - either way, none of them were younger than a couple of years. 

A ceiling fan swirled above, churning the once stagnant air into something breathable, something that didn't remind you of lime, salt, and tequila. 

You buried your face into Dallas's pillow, inadvertently pushing your skull into the flesh of his bicep, the sudden move pulling a disgruntled groan from his still-sleeping form. 

You murmured an apology, or at least you had in your mind as you breathed in his musk, letting the scent settle deep in your lungs as you settled your hazy mind. Drinking had been easy once, when you were all teenagers with no obligations to rouse you before the crack of dawn, but tolerances seemed to slow and dwindle once your internal clock struck twenty-two. 

So, you inwardly cursed your hungover self and began the lazy task of kicking the mess of bedsheets off of your sweltering frame. Whether it was the liquor seeping from your veins, or the summer heat, you were left wiping your brow before you could wipe the sleep from your eyes as you finally broke free from the chamber of sheets.

Dallas's hand sought you out, patting along the falling sheets. His eyes never opened, but the irritation grew apparent on his face as his brows knitted together, lips pulling up into a grimace. You would've thought you'd offended the man when all you'd truly done was rid him of his human body pillow. 

"C'mon," You whispered as you tucked your hair back from your focal line. "Need to eat somethin', Dal." 

A groan, followed quickly by another as you brushed the back of your fingers along his cheek. You didn't bother to hide your amused laughter, the sound light and sweet enough to pull Dallas from the depths of his hangover-induced slumber. His eyes slowly flitted open, squinting and flickering about the room, but open nonetheless as he leaned into your familiar touch. 

"Time is it?" He rasped, wetting his chapped lips. "Morning?"

"Fuck no." You replied through another laugh as you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. He always smelled perfect whenever he woke up, before he applied cologne, the scent was him and it reminded you of home. "Nearly four in the afternoon." 

“Fuck.”

Sunlight poured through each window, coating the interior of the Thunderbird in warmth, the familiar scent of the outdoors lingering on the leather interior, somehow settling the nausea in your stomach. You sunk into the passenger side, hands sluggishly clicking your seatbelt into place as Dallas keyed the ignition, the engine roaring to life mere seconds later. 

"Want me to drive until I see somewhere?" He asked, suddenly snapping you from your daze. You hummed in response, softly nodding your head as you rested against the warmed passenger side window. 

Dallas reached over as he drove, planting his hand atop your upper thigh, giving the muscle a gentle squeeze before rubbing tender circles along the seam of your jeans. You smiled at the sensation, attempting to sync your breaths with each pass of his thumb. It was nice, oddly enough, the breeze pouring in through the barely cracked windows, Dallas's familiar touch, it all made you almost forget about your pounding headache - almost. 

Tulsa wasn't full of places you'd find yourself comfortable in, not with a smoldering hangover. If y'all had woken up any earlier, you might've beaten the after-church crowd. No such dice, not that you found yourself capable of caring too much when your stomach churned, whether from hunger or nausea, you weren't too sure.

A quick squeeze of your thigh called your attention to the windshield, a semi-dusty and welcome sight, one hell of a hole-in-the-wall diner. You smiled over at Dallas, a nonverbal appreciation of his skill in having found a nice, quiet place for the both of you.

The coffee shop was quaint, with barely enough tables to house any gathering of over fifteen people. It appeared more residential than it did commercial, it quelled the residual apprehension your mind had harbored earlier on the topic of visiting a place dedicated solely to coffee. 

Reluctantly, you pulled yourself from your manmade cocoon, legs tucked up near your chest, cheek pressed to the warmth of the window. You had been in the position for all of fifteen minutes, but as you stretched your legs and moved from the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but groan. Dallas’s head swiveled toward you; disbelief-riddled amusement written clearly across his face.

The bastard couldn’t even pretend to take pity on you. 

“Really? Are you going to keel over and die? Need me to carry you?”

You thwarted his sarcastic remarks with a wave of your hand, although each sluggish movement seemed to tie itself around your stomach, heaving the muscle into the back of your throat, begging you to spill your guts in the empty parking lot. You weren’t worried for yourself, no, instead you took pity on the imagined owners of the place, how disgusted they’d be rinsing off such a mess in Tulsa heat. 

With eyebrows furrowed and a hand clasped to your stomach, you finally removed yourself from the car. Dallas was strides ahead of you, hands on his hips, eyes squinted from the overhead sun as he took in the state of the diner. He hadn’t noticed your state until you made your way beside him, and only then did a flicker of genuine worry cross his face.

“Hey.” His hands reached for you, one gentle against your back as the other braced your shoulder. “We can go home, y’know. I can make you something.”

It was sweet, truly, it was. But your mind quickly stilled all feelings of affection as the faint scent of coffee wafted through the air. “Yeah, no.” You shrugged his touch, mindlessly walking toward the refreshing scent that promised relief from the pressure within your skull.

A cowbell hung above the front door, announcing your entrance for whomever was indoors. You winced at the sudden noise, quickly moving yourself closer to the front counter. 

Pastries sat in a woven basket, and upon closer inspection, you realized that they were plastic. Decorations, you thought, dust-covered decorations. 

Bemused, you reached out to touch them. A scone sat toward the front, polished to look fresh from the oven. It reminded you of play food, and you turned to your side, expecting to find Dallas beside you.

Dallas, however, stood a few paces behind you, completely captivated by the nearby curtains. You turned halfway, the body still facing the front counter as you watched him swish the fabric between his fingers, a palpable look of confusion on his face. 

"This place a house?" He asked after a beat, continuing to play with the curtains. "These curtains, too homely for a business."

You shrugged, figuring it was better to leave it as a question than to impose something on a business you knew nothing of. All you truly knew was the building had a calming atmosphere, not unlike the way a relative’s house felt like home. Wafts of coffee and freshly baked pastries lingered in the air and any true questions you had vanished along with the passing scents. 

Dallas's conversation with himself must've caught the attention of whoever was in the next room over, or what you gathered to be the kitchen, as within the minute an older woman ducked into the front with a bright smile upon her face and enough flour on her apron to bake a cake. 

"Hello, you two." She greeted, her hands working nearly autonomously for two paper menus beneath the counter. "Sorry, I usually hear the bell. I'm in between batches, so I can get you both settled and get your orders in."

Before you could even begin to read, she ushered you and Dallas over toward a corner booth. The seats were worn, the age of the leather made apparent by the faint groan of the material as you seated yourself. She stood by your side, hip resting against the wooden border of the booth. To grant you both a bit of privacy, she kept her attention fixed on her notepad, which you were certain was devoid of any writing, but you internally thanked her for the gesture. 

Last week’s sermon echoed from a nearby radio, filling the silence shared between you and Dallas as you scooted into the seat across from his. A distant breeze flitted through cracked windows, bringing with it the dust of summer, the heat surprisingly pleasant underneath the hum of overhead fans.

Dallas drummed his fingers against the table, teeth biting his bottom lip, unconsciously picking away at the skin as his eyes scoured the menus. They were old, and used, but beautifully written. You envied the writing, as close to print as you could get with handwriting. The only tell for the pair having been handwritten was the pacing of certain letters and different arrangements of refreshments. 

"This place is as old as dirt," Dallas noted, lifting his menu, the midday sun reflecting off the notebook paper. You couldn't help but laugh at Dallas's bluntness, he never could keep in his thoughts.

"Dallas." You whispered through your laughter with a swat to his forearm. His brows furrowed together at the swat, and with a childish and feigned pout, he rubbed his hand against the already fading mark. You shook your head, returning your attention to the menu with a hushed, "Deserve it, y'know that? Can't keep in your thoughts for shit."

He snickered at your words, knowing the truth behind them well enough not to argue. It wasn't long before you both decided on what you wanted to drink, not that there was much to choose from. While the business was dedicated to coffee, there weren't too many brews to choose from. You decided on the house blend, while Dallas chose regular black coffee. 

"We're at a coffee place." Confusion was written heavily on your face as you handed over the menus to the woman you'd met earlier. "And you choose black coffee?"

"It's good." She interrupted, with a fair bit of laughter. "I don't blame him; my husband is the same way. He can't stand nothin' in his coffee besides the beans themselves."

"Can't stand any other types of coffee?" Dallas asked. "And you both own a coffee shop?"

"Dallas!" You chided. "Shut up!"

Whatever life she'd lived had granted her the patience of a saint, and you found yourself eternally grateful for it as she laughed, a genuine and kind laugh that took you by surprise. Not so much Dallas, however, who wore a cocky smirk on his face as he looked back at you. 

"You two crack me up." She laughed, taking a moment to wipe beneath her eyes. "I love how bold your generation is, don't take nothin' from no one."

Before you could utter an apology on behalf of your unapologetic counterpart, she departed from your booth with a fit of laughter. You were confused, but still grateful for her grace despite Dallas's blatant inability to process words before spewing them out.

"You're rude." You huffed, although your words came with a quirk up of your lips. "It's almost amazing how you don't think before you speak."

Dallas chuckled under his breath with a shrug of his shoulders, a careless and amused expression upon his face as he rested back against the booth seat. 

"Never claimed to be a thoughtful man." He replied with a lift of his hips, his right hand moving beneath him as he wrangled free a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches. "You know, she never did answer my question." 

"No," You replied through a grin. "No, she did not." 

The sermon continued through crackling speakers, over the choir an older man spoke of the 'end times.' Dallas's attempts to strike his match were your only solace within the noise, and despite your enjoyment of his growing irritation, you decided to be kind. 

"Here-" You huffed as you leaned over the table, quickly snatching the match from his grasp before striking it against the table. Luckily, it lit, otherwise, you wouldn't've heard the end of it from Dallas. His eyebrows rose in nonverbal appreciation as you held out the lit match, igniting the end of his cigarette. 

"How are you goin' to taste the coffee with cigarette on your tongue?" You asked, genuinely curious as you waved away the plumes of smoke that left his lungs. 

"Just as I would normally." He replied, words dripping in sarcasm. "I'll drink it."

"Christ's sake." You sighed beneath your breath with a quick wave of your hand to extinguish the match. "Can't take pity on me even when I'm hungover?"

Dallas clicked his tongue against his teeth, a rough breath leaving him, a dramatic show of his pondering of your words. He rolled his head back, hand moving toward his mouth to hold his cigarette steady as he took pull, after pull. 

"I'll take pity on 'ya." He stated, pulling his cigarette from between his lips. "Just this once."

The thick scent of cigarette smoke permeated the air, mingling with the growing presence of freshly brewed coffee. It was an oddly sweet mixture, one you didn't entirely mind as you rested back against the booth, the soft material warmed by the sun pouring in from the nearby windows. 

You weren't left to wallow in silence for too long before the creaking sound of the kitchen doors echoed through the front of the diner. Dallas's head turned to the side, his eyes squinting, lips lifting into a smile at the sight of the woman approaching with her hands full of coffee. 

"You need help with that?" You quickly asked, hardly giving her a second to answer as you moved to stand. She shook her head, uttering a quick, "Aht!" 

The noise caught you off-guard, it was something you'd grown used to hearing from your parents as a child, whenever you got into something you weren't supposed to - not from a woman you barely knew. 

Dallas, however, found it hilarious. His head fell back in laughter, genuine, almost stomach-hurting laughter. You couldn't help but laugh along with him as you raised your hands, a sight that pleased the older woman as she sat down your coffee, as well as Dallas's. 

"Sorry, hun." She apologized, although you could tell she hardly meant it. Not that you needed an apology in the first place. "It's the only noise my boys ever listened to, got them to quit real quick. Didn't want you gettin' up for a service I'm providin' you."

“No, no. It’s fine.” You were quick to reassure her, laughter still threading through your words. 

Once you and Dallas were settled, albeit with occasional bouts of laughter, she made her way around the counter and disappeared back into the kitchen. 

The mugs weren’t commercial, yours wore the faded markings of an old Mother’s Day quote, while Dallas’s had a faded I-95-mile marker plastered on the front. You traced your fingers over the letters, wondering how old it was, and who had gifted it. 

Dallas spared no such thought to his, quickly lifting the heated ceramic to his lips with a murmured, “Finally.” 

You understood his plight, nothing quelled a hangover better than caffeine or a greasy meal – preferably both, but neither of you had the appetite, so coffee would suffice. 

Dallas groaned around his first mouthful, and you weren’t certain if it was due to the temperature or the taste until you watched as he swallowed back another, and then another.

“Jesus Christ, Dal.” Your eyes widened as you watched him. “That good?”

He answered with a hearty sigh, upper lip reddened by the sharp temperature of the coffee. You had yet to take a sip, your fingers flared against the ceramic, hardly able to stand the heat for too long. At his insistence, although nonverbal, you raised your mug to your lips. 

The taste was robust, flaring across your tongue in a flavor so soothing you couldn’t help but clutch the mug. Coffee, made by yourself, was usually instant. The jar toward the front of your local grocery store, the little granules permeating the air in your apartment before you had even begun to brew it. It was safe to say that neither you nor Dallas were used to home-brewed coffee, and it showed in both of your expressions. 

In a laugh filled with surprise, you lowered your mug from your lips. Dallas met your expression with a lift of his brow, his lips downturned. Conversation between you died down, replaced by the distant crooning of an old Johnny Cash song. 

It was comfortable, the silence you shared. You allowed yourself to relax, back pressed to the crackled leather of the booth seat as you held your mug close. 

Outside you could spot the afternoon traffic, people in their cars fixed with varying expressions of fatigue – and yet there you were, seated across from Dallas in a diner neither of you would’ve picked under any other circumstance. 

As though he sensed your thoughts, Dallas placed his mug down against the counter. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

The normal sarcastic tone Dallas took was no longer present, instead, he looked at you with a smile, albeit a lazy one. You nodded, “Yeah, yeah it is.” 

Neither of you had plans for the day ahead, and so you spent the better part of an hour in that booth, conversing over refill, after refill of your respective mugs. When your stomach grumbled for something other than coffee and pastries, you and Dallas decided to leave. 

Dallas vehemently swore that the surprise visit counted as a date. The argument escalated, playfully, while you both rustled through your pockets for whatever change you could muster up. As Dallas fingered through his bills, you grabbed a napkin, hastily scrawling down the address of the diner with a pen Dallas had stolen from a recent hospital visit. 

Whether it was a date or not, you and Dallas were certain to return - hopefully without a hangover. 

A/N: I live! Huzzah! I figured I'd surprise you guys with a cute lil' funny story with Dallas! I have several, and I mean several stories lined up. This one took precedent, which is kinda stupid considering I did a poll and everything. Life has been really stressful, but I'm slowly getting my groove back. I hope you all enjoy this, and thank you all so much for your continuous support. I love you all so much.

[smallmercies33]

dally winston x virgin!reader who asks her boyfriend dally to be her first time

Sweet Thing

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Intimacy, intimacy, intimacy.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Kissing, touching, fingering. Inexperienced and slightly innocent reader. Loss of virginity.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.8k (I got carried away.)

You’d always been Dallas’s favorite preoccupation, distracting him from everything else in life. The sweet thing he carted around whenever he hung around with the boys or found himself in the drunken den that was Buck’s on a Saturday night. You’d be there, propped on his lap with his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

Not that you didn’t have anything to say besides sitting there, hell, the guys loved you. You could hold your own when it came to their wit and it made you a worthy companion for Dallas in their eyes, not to mention your inexplicable ability to put up with his shit when nobody else had before - or seemingly nobody else had been given the chance.

Normally Dallas would’ve gone for girls at the drive-in, greaser girls, or any woman he could get his hands on or who could handle his banter for longer than a minute without giving him the back of their hand. You weren’t one of them, and frankly, that terrified Dallas. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away, push you away in hopes that he’d save himself the pain of heartbreak later on he’d convinced himself he’d suffer. But he always stopped himself whenever you found yourself in his arms, gazing up at him with your doe-like eyes.

It was a difficult thing, Dallas being intimate. He was born and raised in a constant battle for survival, not showing love or producing it, but you made it easy. The longer you two had been together the longer he found himself wanting to keep you close, protect you from dangers he seemed to see everywhere. The worries you once had about him leaving eventually faded, the look in his eyes as he gazed at you whenever you laid in his arms far outweighed any ill thoughts you’d suffered with.

The only way you could describe it was ardent, laced with a deep desire that you’d never seen before in his brown eyes. A deep desire that would show itself in the bounds of the night after the two of you had disappeared together, culminating in you on his lap in his bed, hips rocking together as he kissed along your throat and down onto your chest. Or with your legs wrapped loosely around his hips, him grinding into you, you whispering sweet moans into his mouth spurring him on to do more, touch you more, please you more.

Dallas never pushed, he was always understanding whenever you pulled away. Of course, he’d have to adjust himself in his jeans, but he’d quickly pull you to his chest and press delicate kisses along your face, murmuring how much you mean to him, something he didn’t dare do in front of others. That side of Dallas was for you, nobody else, so you treasured it whenever he showed it.

On one particular Saturday night in the midst of autumn, you found yourself propped up against Dallas’s side on one of the couches in Buck’s bar, legs bent up at your chest as you fiddled with frayed denim at the end of your pant leg. Dallas was in a debate with a random man, someone he seemed to know well enough to bullshit with, talking about how the two had snagged something good off a rich man’s car not too long ago.

If it hadn’t been for the incessant country music Buck played when it rounded two in the morning you’d likely have fallen asleep against Dallas, but the occasional jump of a new song kept you jerking awake, a tired pout situating itself on your features as you rested your cheek against Dallas’s shoulder.

“Looks like your miss is real tired.” The man stated, taking a long puff from his cigar before gesturing toward you with the end of it, a snicker following his words as he propped himself up against the end of his pool cue. Dallas quirked a brow, looking down at you where you were tucked into his side with a hidden smile.

“Guess she is.” He murmured, not saying anything more beyond that before moving to prop himself up straighter, hand smoothing down your back as he looked down at you. “Tired?”

You weren’t tired, tired. More so bored, the constant scent of smoke and alcohol wasn’t helping the boredom or the budding headache in the back of your skull. But knowing if you said anything other than ‘yes’ at that moment would result in another hour downstairs, you nodded, feigning a yawn as you let your eyes flutter deceptively.

Dallas caught on, but he didn’t say anything. Instead choosing to click his tongue against his teeth as he played along, shrugging as he moved to stand. “I’ll see you later, man.” He stated, causing the older man to shrug himself before dispersing off into the crowd. Dallas turned to you, helping you to your feet before leading you up the stairs.

“Lyin’ is a sin, y’know that right?” He chuckled out, quiet enough for only you to hear as he nudged open his bedroom door with the toe of his shoe, causing you to laugh yourself and avert your gaze from his as you moved into the familiar room.

“Didn’t lie.” You mumbled out, another pout crossing your lips as you kicked off your shoes, making your way to his bed. “Real tired, Dally.”

“Sure, doll.” He snickered from the corner of the room as you made yourself comfortable on the bed, the familiar metallic clang of his belt hitting the wooden floor echoing throughout the room soon after.

He moved beside you then, letting out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your back flush with his chest. The sound of country music and clattering pool balls still echoed from downstairs, but the only thing you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of Dallas’s knee between your legs.

It was an innocent move, both of you slept with your legs intertwined, it felt comfortable given how small his bed was. As he shifted to get more comfortable his knee pressed harder against your clothed cunt, causing your cheeks to flush red as you choked back a whine. Dallas stiffened, breath catching in his throat as he took a moment to gauge your reaction before moving his knee again.

“Dal-“ You whined, hand moving down in between your legs as you buried your face into the pillow you two shared, his scent lingering heavily on the fabric doing nothing to quell the growing ache between your legs.

“What, doll? Feel good?” He whispered, words ghosting across the nape of your neck, causing your back to arch involuntarily as you slowly nodded. His hand smoothed down your front, bumping over the fabric of your shirt and jeans as he slowly moved to cup your sex, ever so gently applying pressure as he rocked himself against you.

You felt yourself soaking your underwear with arousal the longer he rutted against you, his fingers pressing against your cunt through your jeans as he did. A familiar sensation bloomed in your lower stomach, one that left you clenching your thighs around his palm as you tried to quell the growing ache.

“Gotta tell me what you want.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, trailing a litany of open-mouthed kisses along the curvature of your throat, pressure from his fingers increasing against your cunt. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, Dallas, just fuck me.” You whined, embarrassment over the prospect of voicing your needs soon being overweighed by the sheer need you felt for him, your hand moved to grasp at his forearm as you begged. “Please, Dal.”

That seemed to be all he needed as he moved to sit up on his knees, pressing another kiss to your jaw before pulling his shirt up and over his head. You laid there, lips parted as you watched him undress, feeling your blush spread from your cheeks to the top of your chest. You wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him - so you did. You moved to sit up, folding your legs underneath yourself as you moved to press a kiss to his lips, hands moving to cup his jaw, only pulling away when you felt that familiar pull to touch him elsewhere.

You’d seen him without a shirt, but you’d never truly been able to admire him until now. Your hands wavered over his body, fingertips dipping in between the rivets of his toned skin, along healed scars, a faint bruise that still lingered under the left side of his ribcage. Above it all you found yourself fascinated with the way his chest rose with each breath and the small freckles that lined his skin. They reminded you of the ones he’d gotten from his time in the sun that plastered themselves against his cheekbones and upper shoulders.

Dallas let you look, eyes fluttering whenever your hands would drift farther south than before. You could hear him taking in shuddering breaths, chest catching every few minutes as though he were teetering on the edge of self-control. He raised his hands then, looking to you for approval before he lifted your shirt up and over your head, bundling the soft fabric in his hands before letting it fall to the floor.

You reached your hands behind yourself, unclasping your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders until your bra collapsed into your lap, exposing your breasts to him. Dallas had seen women before, he’d seen plenty, but none of them had ever had the effect you currently had on him. He felt his throat dry, brown eyes flickering between your chest and your eyes before he moved to gently lay you back against his bed, situating himself over top of you.

“You want this?” His words were hushed as his hand drifted down over your bare stomach, slowly unbuttoning your jeans as he kept his gaze locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort or worry. When you responded with a nod and a quiet, “I want this.” He smiled, a soft laugh leaving him as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

You’d envisioned losing your virginity hundreds of times, a perfect encapsulation of what sex had to be painted in your mind, vivid and blaring. But this was so different, the way Dallas was so gentle, not afraid to laugh if something awkward happened, both of you sharing the pure moment of intimacy with smiles on your face. Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for it and that somehow made it all so much better.

As he slid your jeans off your legs he smiled up at you, a soft look on his face as he tossed the denim to the floor, moving back up to place another languid kiss to your lips. His hand moved between your thighs, fingers splaying against your cunt through your underwear, a groan passing his lips when he felt just how wet you’d become.

“Dallas, please-“ You begged, thighs trembling as he continued to tease you through your underwear. He relented, placing a gentle kiss to your jaw before moving to sit back up, slowly sliding your underwear down and off your body before discarding them to the floor as well.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, eyes wandering over your form laid in front of him, hands smoothing up and down your sides as he took it all in. “So fuckin’ beautiful, doll.”

You watched with bated breath as he slipped his jeans off, kicking his boxers off along with them. His length was bigger than you’d anticipated, only having felt the shape of it when you’d ground down against him during your frequent make-out sessions. As if sensing your apprehension he moved back over you, hand moving to cup your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It won’t hurt, alright? We’ll take it slow, real slow.” He whispered, voice soothing as he helped you to wrap your legs around his hips, your heels subtly digging into the flesh of his lower back. He smiled down at you, eyes voicing a silent question if you were alright to which you quickly nodded back, a smile upon your face as well.

He braced himself on his arm, face close to yours as he slid a hand down between you, helping to guide himself inside before sliding his fingers up to slowly circle your clit. A moan left you at the feeling, leaving you clenching around his tip, the feeling causing him to bite back a grunt as he slowly began pushing in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned out, brows screwing together as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of your welcoming cunt, pausing in his movements to give you a chance to grow used to the feeling. “Doin’ so good, baby, so good.”

You’d heard horror stories from your friends, tales of how their first time had been painful and rushed, but this felt the complete opposite. While it took you a moment to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you, it was an incredibly welcome feeling. You could feel yourself clenching down around him, his fingers circling your clit only adding to the feeling building in your stomach.

“Dal- Dal, move.” You whispered out, voice hoarse as you grasped at his shoulders, desperate for him to move. He snickered at your pleading tone, slowly pulling himself out before pushing back in, slowly and deeply fucking you as he whispered words of praise into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses against your damp skin whenever he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your warmth surrounding him.

You could hear your wetness coating his cock with each thrust of his hips, his fingers slick against your clit. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, broken-off moans, and whispered words. Your thighs tightened against him as he adjusted himself, lifting himself a bit, unknowingly brushing against a spot within you that you’d never known existed - one that pulled a drawn-out moan from your chest.

“Yeah?” He asked through a smirk, hand moving down to cup your hip as he pushed back into you, hitting that very same spot. You could hardly think, let alone breathe as he fucked himself into you, fingers working at your clit as he angled himself to hit that spot over, and over. “Taking me so good, doll.” He grunted out, grip tightening on your hip as he picked up his pace.

Your hand shot down to his wrist as he continued toying with your clit, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your orgasm building to its peak in your lower stomach, the feeling causing you to rock your hips in tandem with his thrusts. The look on your face was enough to make him groan, his hand moving from your hip to your jaw as he tilted your face to look at him.

“Look at me when you cum on my cock, baby.” He murmured, voice soft yet authoritative as he slammed into you. As soon as you opened your eyes he moved his hand, pressing it against your lower stomach as he continued fucking himself into you. It felt as though he were pushing you down onto him, that spot that nearly blinded you with pleasure constantly being rutted against by his cock.

All you could muster was a weak, “F-fuck,” as you came undone, back arching off the bed as you whined out his name. He didn’t stop, stifling a groan at the way you writhed beneath him as he felt his orgasm building. Once you started swatting at his fingers that still circled your clit he moved his hand, choosing to grab the other side of your hip, effectively propping you up against him as he fucked you.

The pace was near brutal, moans forced from your body as your breasts bounced with each thrust. You couldn’t focus, still reeling from your last orgasm as he continued fucking you into oversensitivity-fueled bliss. You could feel his thumbs pressing into your hipbones, short curses slipping past his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He grunted, pulling out of you a second later, spilling his cum across your lower stomach. His chest heaved, cheeks flushed red as he pumped himself through his orgasm. You could only watch in a haze of your own, still catching your breath as he looked up at you, that familiar crooked smile taking over his features as he moved on top of you once more.

“Did so good, doll. Real good.” He murmured against your cheek, pressing a kiss to your skin between each sentence. “You feel alright? Need me to get you something?” He asked after a moment, a hint of concern evident in his tone that made you smile as you shook your head.

“It felt perfect, Dal. I’m alright.” You whispered back, turning over onto your side to face him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, leaning up after to press a kiss to his waiting lips. “Perfect.”

A/N: Thank you for reading if you made it this far, or even if you just skimmed it over - either way I appreciate the interactions! As always you can find my work over on my ao3 under the user “Unscriptural.” Thank you anon for the request! (Sorry for the late posting, or early? Wherever you are? I finished editing it and didn’t want to queue it, so here is your daily scheduled reading material.)

[smallmercies33]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭

“Don’t make a big deal,” Bucky said — “I have all I need right here,” he insisted.  A shame, really, that he had thought that you had listened, and you wouldn’t make a big deal of it; he was so wrong, and he would be better off for being so, for when a paw touched your heart, it would never leave.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 🐾 Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 🐾 4.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 🐾 Tooth rotting fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 🐾 I think this is the fluffiest thing I have ever written, and the visual of a certain scene seriously overwhelmed me with how fluffy it is — make sure to book in with your dentist after this one, folks. 🐾 Happy Birthday to the character that changed my life 🥳🎉

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 🐾 @buckybarnesevents — Bucky's Birthday Bash 🐾 @allcapsbingo 𝗢𝟮 — Alpine — Masterlist

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Bucky had made it expressly clear that his birthday was not a big deal, and it was to not be made into a ‘thing’. “‘M fine, doll. I have all I need right here,” he had said while holding you tightly.

Naturally, of course, you didn’t listen.

March rolled ‘round so fast it left you reeling. The days on the calendar steadily got crossed off until they reached the giant red circle around the big day, March 10th. 

The morning air was crisp, and the yellow glow of the sun through the sheer drapes woke you from sleep, combined with the weight of Bucky’s arm draped over your hip–it wasn’t a surprise that you’d mistaken it for heaven. 

Your plan was ninety-five percent set in stone, having called ahead the week before and yesterday, much to the amusement of the employees and volunteers you had spoken to – you were on a first name basis now, with all of them. 

All that was needed for your plan to be one hundred percent certain, and ready to go?

Coffee. It was some damn good coffee.

“No,” Bucky’s muffled voice came from the crook of your neck when you moved, and you smiled. Testing the waters, you shifted again, only slightly. “I said no,” Bucky grumbled, his voice raspy with sleep. The arm resting over your hip moved to cradle just under your chest, the grip tight and firm. “Not gettin’ up.”

You shuffled and turned in his arms until you faced him, his arms still around you and holding you to his chest with no sign of relenting anytime soon. “Happy birthday, Buck,” you whispered, kissing him on the nose sweetly.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, pulling you impossibly closer. “Now lemme sleep.”

“C’mon.” Your hands pushed against his chest and he whined in protest. “You need to get up, babe.”

“Why?” Bucky cracked an eye open and stared at you suspiciously. “I told you this wasn’t a big deal.”

“I know,” you agreed, though you smiled innocently and widened your eyes so the sun’s rays would make them sparkle – Bucky could never resist that look, you knew. “But I didn’t listen.”

“Of course you didn’t listen,” Bucky sighed. You giggled and pushed back until he released you from his hold, and he rolled over onto his back with a groan. “Can I at least have some coffee before you spring anythin’ on me?”

“Sure, Sarge.” The bed sheets rustled as you moved to the edge of the bed. “We have a big day ahead of us, I don’t want you grumpy–well, grumpier than you usually are, for it.”

Bucky only grunted in response, and you chuckled. 

The cup of hot coffee seemed to brighten Bucky up for your plan as you hoped, though the traces of frustration in his expression – the slight pout of his lips and the furrow of his brow when you consistently brushed off or denied his questions of just what the hell you had planned for the day, made you smirk cheekily. It was like dangling a prize just out of reach; a game that you were in the long haul for and wouldn’t ruin so soon, no matter how tempting his bribes were.

“You will just have to wait and see,” you said. Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes as he leant against the doorway, his arms crossed and lips still pouted in exaggerated defiance. You stared at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Bucky raised a brow, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Like what?”

“Like that,” you gestured to his face, then down to his chest that was straining against his Henley. “Don’t.”

“Oh, are you struggling, baby?” Bucky cooed and you glared at him. Bastard, you thought. “You wouldn’t struggle so much if you just told me, I’ll make it worth it, I promise.”

Oh, it was tempting.

“No,” you snapped, pointing a finger and jamming it into his chest–his much too toned and muscled chest that you wanted- “No, stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing, baby girl?” Bucky hummed and it was all you could do to not give in. You had to remain strong – his present counted on it! You groaned and stalked away to get dressed, leaving a laughing Bucky in your wake. 

An hour later the two of you were dressed comfortably. Bucky wore a grey shirt and his favourite burgundy Henley, paired with jeans, the pair that fit his thighs so snuggly it was almost impossible to resist. A black baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, mostly ‘to keep his unruly hair in check’, though you knew it was because he didn’t want to be seen – be recognised.

“Now,” you started and Bucky looked at you curiously. “I need you to either use this,” you held up an eye mask that was nondescript and soft, “or you need to keep your eyes closed. It’s your choice, babe, but I want this to be a surprise.”

“Kinky,” Bucky muttered and you laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll just keep my eyes closed, promise.”

Bucky’s car came to life with a loud purr and he tensed next to you. “I won’t hurt your baby,” you laughed and Bucky looked at you guiltily, a small smirk on his lips betraying his playful nature. “Here,” you said, grabbing his hand and placing it on your thigh. “Close your eyes for me–no funny business!” You shrieked when his hand moved higher and he laughed.

“Alright, alright.” Bucky’s hand moved closer to your knee and he closed his eyes as you put the car in gear. If Bucky’s grip tightened on the door handle, you ignored it.

The drive was only a short one, but your excitement to see his reaction made it stretch to be unbearable. Songs played over the radio while Bucky hummed along quietly and when you stopped at traffic lights, your hand found Bucky’s and you squeezed, making him smile softly. 

“Almost there,” you said when a large park came into view. The energy that flooded you made you vibrate out of your skin with excitement, and Bucky picked up on it.

“Too much coffee, sweetheart,” Bucky chuckled, and you shushed him while you pulled into an empty park – right out front of the building, where a sign painted with big block letters loomed over the windshield of his car. 

SHELTER.

You turned the ignition and the car shut off, the once loud purr now silent so you could hear distant barks of the dogs running amok in the park and being led amongst the alleys and buildings.

“Are… are those, dogs?” Bucky shifted, furrowing his brows in confusion. “What-”

“We’re here, babe,” you whispered, grabbing his hand and holding it. He squeezed yours once and his head turned towards you, eyes still closed. “Open your eyes for me.”

Icy blue irises met yours and the pupils were blown, quickly shrinking to be normal while he stared at you with narrowed eyes, his suspicions still not confirmed. “Why are there dogs? Where are we?”

“Look.” You pointed out the windshield towards the sign. 

Time slowed to a stop as Bucky turned his head so his gaze could focus on the sign. His lips, once set in a slight frown of confusion, opened wide to let out a gasp of shock. The grip he had on your hand tightened as he leant forward in his seat to stare at the sign – looking for any sign of a ruse, or a trick. 

“It’s real, Buck–baby, we’re here,” you rushed when he started to tremble slightly. The shock and joy overwhelmed him and rendered him speechless. “Breathe for me.”

Bucky slowly took deep, grounding breaths and you smiled when he looked back at you with unrestrained glee, his eyes bright with tears. “Y-You brought me here? Here?”

“I did,” you said softly and Bucky hiccuped. “I know you’ve been wanting a pet of your own after your therapist suggested it–truth be told, she told me long before she told you, I’ve been hatching this plan for a while now. I wanted it to be perfect.”

Bucky just stared at you in wonder, and you stared back with all the love you could convey. 

“Happy birthday, babe,” you whispered into the silence and a single tear fell down Bucky’s cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb and he leant into your touch. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you more, doll,” Bucky whispered. 

“Now, c’mon!” You rushed, unbuckling your seat belt and opening the car door. “Let’s go!”

You held Bucky’s hand tightly as you led the way – Bucky was far too overwhelmed and staring at everything in awe, the dogs, their handlers, the hustle and bustle of the workers and volunteers. 

The main reception was a small building, cosy and homely with soft neutral tones and wooden floor boards, with well-loved couches and seats scattered about the waiting area.

“Hey there! Welcome,” a lady said from behind the main desk. She was an elderly woman, her smile bright and happy. “What can I do for you?”

“I called ahead,” you said and supplied your name. Bucky was too busy taking in the environment to pay attention. “And this is Bucky.”

“Ah! Hello, dear,” the woman replied, a twinkle in her eye. “My name is Deb, take a seat for me and someone will be right out to bring you back.”

Bucky followed you without a word when you moved to sit on a couch to wait. There was soft music playing over the speakers and Bucky kept looking around, not in fear – the tells of his expression were only of nerves, and excitement. You placed your hand on his bouncing knee and smiled at him warmly. “You doing okay, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky said, his voice strained. “Just–just happy, I can’t believe it-”

You brought Bucky’s hand up to your lips and kissed his knuckles, a soothing act to his fraying nerves. “I know, I can’t wait.”

A call of your name came from the desk and you looked over to see another staff member, a woman about your age with dark hair. Her smile was contagious and she looked as though she was bouncing on the spot with excitement. “I’m Cherie,” she said, offering her hand to shake. “Come with me, I’ll take you back. Though I gotta warn you, they are extra cuddly today.”

“They?” Bucky whispered, and Cherie grinned. 

“They,” Cherie affirmed. “It’s for the best that you dressed comfortably, you will likely be stuck with them for a while. Lil’ terrors, they are.”

Bucky looked at you with barely restrained excitement and you nodded encouragingly. “They,” he repeated just above a whisper. “Oh, no, baby–am I looking at-”

“Wait and see, Buck,” you replied, pulling him along. The corridors were bright with sunlight and painted in neutral tones, a natural, peaceful atmosphere you were grateful for. Bucky was already struggling with the fact he was out and about, throwing extreme levels of excitement in the mix and it would be a recipe for disaster if you weren’t careful. 

“We’re just down here,” Cherie said cheerily, pointing towards a set of double doors with yellow paw prints painted along the bottom. “Are you ready?”

You looked at Bucky and he smiled nervously. “We’re ready,” you answered Cherie, still looking at Bucky. “You got this, babe, I’m here.” A squeeze to his hand that he returned zealously. 

“Here we go,” Cherie gushed, her voice high in excitement and the double doors opened with a quiet whoosh. The sight made you gasp in shock while Bucky stared in awe. The room was vast. Glass pens filled to the brim with blankets and beds lined two opposing walls, while towering cat trees were placed against the far wall, their height perfect for the cats to look through a window that spanned the top half of the wall, the view of the play yards the perfect enrichment.

“Holy cow,” Bucky whispered, his eyes bright with wonder and curiosity. “Oh my-” A mewling noise cut him off and the two of you looked to the source.

Kittens. 

Kittens of all shapes, colours, and sizes, were scrabbling against the glass door of their pen; their little mouths wide with cries for love and cuddles, for scratches and pets. It was enough to bring tears to your eyes, they were so damn cute. 

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, rushing over while Bucky stood rooted to the spot and staring wide eyed at the kittens jostling to get closer to your presence. “They’re so cute, oh my gosh!”

“That they are!” Cherie agreed. She was bustling around and grabbing large pillows and blankets. “This litter seems to be the cuddliest we’ve had yet, so you’re in luck.” 

You looked over your shoulder and up to Bucky. “C’mere, babe, it’s okay,” you encouraged, offering a hand out for him to hold. “It’s okay.” Slowly, ever so slowly, Bucky took your offered hand and crouched down beside you. “Aren’t they adorable?”

“They are,” Bucky whispered, reaching a finger out to the glass and watching the kittens scrabble over one another just to touch, to feel the newcomer’s touch. 

A shuffling sound and a soft plop echoed behind you, and you looked over to find Cherie placing two large pillows on the floor – close, but not too close. “Are you two ready for me to let them out?”

You stood and pulled Bucky up with you. He hadn’t worn his gloves today so you held his right hand, and grabbed a hold of the cold metal of his left. “Listen, babe,” you began softly, and Bucky finally tore his eyes away from the fluffy kittens to look at you. There was a glint in his eyes, a sparkle of happiness you hadn’t seen before – you immediately knew this was the best idea that his therapist could have come up with. “They’re gonna crowd you, they’re gonna be loud,” you continued, even softer. “But you are safe, you’re with me, and you won’t hurt them,” for emphasis, you squeezed his left hand and he glanced down at it, then back up at you. “I promise, okay?”

Bucky’s throat worked as he swallowed thickly, and he gave a slow, single nod. “Okay.”

God, you were so proud of him.

“We’re ready,” you said to Cherie, leading Bucky to the pillows. Sitting down with a quiet oof, you took Bucky’s hand and squeezed it while Cherie walked to the door of the pen. “Proud of you, babe,” you whispered to Bucky while Cherie’s back was turned, and he smiled happily. 

“All right,” Cherie began, turning around so you could see her wide grin. “Batten the hatches, here they come.”

The door swung open, and it was pandemonium. Kittens ran everywhere, their cries and meows of determination to find their way to your laps first was incredibly endearing. A few stragglers chose to adventure rather than run amongst the charging cavalry.

“Whoa!” 

You looked at Bucky quickly, afraid he was too overwhelmed, but instead your heart soared.  Bucky was sitting stock still, wide-eyed, and his hands trembled slightly where they rested on his knees, but he was covered in kittens. They were climbing determinedly into his lap and up his stomach and up his arms with one mission in mind; to get the first cuddle from the newcomer.

Cherie was laughing softly from her place by the door and you followed suit. The look of wonder on Bucky’s face had only doubled in intensity as he watched the little balls of fluff fight over who got to his face first. 

A small black kitten won the race in the end. Bucky moved so slowly, so carefully, to cradle it in his large hand where it mewled and rubbed over his fingers. The others continued to claw up his front until a calico reached his shoulder to meow right into Bucky’s ear, but he didn’t even flinch. “Hey, little guy,” he cooed, picking the calico up from his shoulder with his free hand, his left hand. “You’re so small…”

Your heart grew so big at the sight you were sure it would burst from your chest. Bucky was so gentle, so careful, with the kittens – treating them so delicately, even when he was petrified of the thought of hurting them with his strength. You knew he had it in him, but here he was, proving to himself that he was indeed capable of being gentle, of being a beefy, living, breathing cat tree.

Kittens were beginning to meander about, their curiosity winning out over the giant man in their presence in favour of coming to investigate you. “Hey, lil’ guys,” you whispered happily, scratching a ginger kitten and a brown kitten behind the ears. “You’re all so cute!”

You looked over at Bucky while you played with a black and white one that had barrelled its way through the ginger and brown one, and you paused. He was frozen with a lap full of kittens, though he wasn’t looking at them, any of them. “Babe, are you okay?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away and you grew worried, until you glanced towards where he was staring. A small kitten, no bigger than your palm, sat huddled just out of reach and it was shivering, the long white fur of its coat trembling with the movements of its body. It was a little odd – all of the other kittens were playful and bouncing around, though not this one.

“This little one had a rough start,” Cherie said softly, crouching down and offering an open palm to the tiny kitten. “Her mother was hit and killed by a car and this lil’ one was found in an alley. A young man brought her in, and she’s been in our care ever since. She only recently became old enough to be amongst this lot.”

“She’s so small,” Bucky said, looking at Cherie fully for the first time. “Why is she so small?”

“We don’t know,” Cherie answered sadly, a small frown tugging at the corner of her lips. “Though she is healthy, she’s just… small.”

“Can I-” Bucky began, but stopped. He started to chew his lip in thought. 

You looked at him and watched his expression tighten, tears remarkably clouded his eyes and he frowned sadly. “What is it, babe?”

Bucky looked at you, almost pleading, then back to the kitten, and then up at Cherie. “Can I hold her?” His voice was small, quiet. Cherie looked taken aback at the question for a brief second but she covered it with a smile. 

“Of course you can, love.” Cherie stood and shuffled back to the door. “Do you want the others to go back? We can take you to a quieter room for this lil’ nervous ball of fluff, yeah?”

“Yes, please,” Bucky murmured. He scratched a few of the kittens in his lap behind the ears and cooed to them in farewell, before picking them up carefully and offering them up to Cherie. 

You helped Cherie herd the kitten back into their pen until the fluffy, tiny one remained; huddled on the floor and looking up at Bucky with bright, wide blue eyes. 

“Hello, little one,” Bucky breathed, offering a hand to the small, adorable creature. “It’s okay, not gonna hurt you.”

Your heart seized at his words, and you smiled tearily to yourself. 

The kitten didn’t move from its place on the floor, though it sniffed the air, its little nose wiggling with the effort and it was all you could do to not coo loudly. Bucky shuffled closer to the kitten and with baited breath, he reached forward and carefully picked her up from the floor. A loud mew suddenly left the kitten, startling all three of you, and it started purring in earnest.

“I think you have found the one, Bucky,” Cherie said quietly, a soft smile on her lips while she watched. “Come, there is a much quieter room where you can sit with this lil’ angel.”

Bucky looked up at you with wide, glassy eyes, a smile on his perfect lips. “Okay,” he said, slowly manoeuvring his way to his feet. “She’s very soft.” The small kitten mewed quietly when Bucky moved her so he could cradle her against his chest, the size of his hands dwarfing her even more. 

“She is so cute, such a small lil’ thing,” you cooed, offering a finger for her to sniff. Bucky offered her to you to hold but you shook your head quickly, pushing his hands back against his chest so she could cuddle into his shirt. “I’ll get my fill of cuddles later, I don’t mind.”

Cherie led the two of you to a smaller, more intimate room with a floor to ceiling window on one side, and two couches placed opposite one another on a carpeted rug. A basket of toys sat next to a small cat tree, right by a small bowl of water. “Here you are,” she said, ushering you and Bucky inside. “I’ll be just down the hall, over there,” she pointed at another door labelled ‘employees only’, “if you need me, okay?”

“Thank you,” you beamed, and Bucky nodded in agreement, his attention wholly focused on the ball of fluff that was now wriggling in his hands. Cherie grinned and nodded before turning and departing your company. 

“She is so soft,” Bucky marvelled quietly. “She’s like a cloud–a fluffy cloud.”

“She definitely is,” you agreed happily, taking a seat on the couch next to the toys. “Come sit, babe, she might want to play.”

Disregarding the couch entirely, Bucky sat cross-legged on the floor with his back against the opposing couch and took off his cap to place it behind him on a cushion. With the cap gone, his hair flowed freely and the kitten noticed, mewling softly as it attempted to crawl up to Bucky’s neck and hide in the curtain of his hair. 

“Where you off to, little one?” Bucky chuckled. The kitten made a huffing noise as Bucky grabbed it gently and pulled it away so he could look into her face. “Look at’chu,” he cooed softly, bringing her closer to his face so they were almost nose to nose. “Isn’t she adorable?”

“The cutest,” you answered. A quiet gasp left you when the kitten booped her nose against Bucky’s, licking it once before beginning to purr again. Bucky looked at you with wide eyes, an unspoken ‘did you see that!’, you nodded, smiling happily. “I did, babe. I did.”

Hours passed in that room, the sun was high in the sky by the time you went and looked for Cherie. Bucky had spent the entire time cooing softly and playing with the kitten, and you knew she was the one for him when he started to cry when she grabbed his left forefinger between her paws and looked up at him. Somehow, her eyes were full of adoration – it was like she was human at that point.

Once you had found Cherie, you had brought her back to the room but gestured to keep quiet. She peered over your shoulder and you both watched while Bucky held the kitten up to his face so she could rub over his cheek, the volume of her purrs audible even in the doorway. “She’s the one,” Cherie whispered, and you nodded – you wholeheartedly agreed. 

While you filled out the paperwork, Bucky held the kitten, cradling her against his neck where she curled happily amongst the loose hair from under his cap. Deb had smiled so wide when she spied the two of you walking back to reception with, “The cutest bundle of fluff I ever did see,” and had hurried to grab the paperwork that you were almost finished with. 

“Now if there are any issues, just give us a call and we would be happy to help,” Cherie said. Her hand stretched out to scratch the kitten one last time and Bucky didn’t flinch at the initiation. “You take care now, y’hear?”

“I hear,” Bucky mumbled, smiling contentedly while stroking the kitten. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, love,” Cherie replied, and Deb nodded.

“It has been wonderful seeing your family grow.”

You offered the completed paperwork back to Deb, and rested a hand on Bucky’s arm. “You guys have been amazing, thank you for helping me make his birthday special.”

The drive home was full of Bucky making soft cooing noises at the kitten and petting her, the fact that you were driving his car didn’t even cross his mind – you knew that for a fact because he didn’t wince or complain playfully about your driving, not even once. 

“Have you thought of a name, Buck?” You asked, pulling into the driveway and turning the car off. Bucky nodded once and continued to coo at the kitten. “Let’s get her inside, you take her and I’ll grab the supplies they gave us.”

As soon as the door swung open, Bucky made a beeline for the living room to sit on his side of the couch. You sighed and hauled everything in, content to see Bucky so happy with his gift – a very successful plan, if you said so yourself.

The day went by gracefully slowly, the hours stretching on while Bucky settled her into your home. It was close to dinner time when you asked again. “What’s this angel’s name, babe?”

Bucky looked up at you while you stood in the kitchen, his perch on the couch the perfect spot for you to see him carding through her fur while she dozed. “Her name is Alpine,” he said happily. “And she’s my second best girl.”

You laughed and made your way over, moving to sit down on the couch next to Alpine, but Bucky grabbed your wrist and pulled you over to sit in his lap. He wasted no time in cradling you close, resting his head in the crook of your neck while he breathed you in. 

“Thank you, for today,” Bucky mumbled into the comfortable silence. “I’m one lucky fella to call you mine, baby girl.”

“You’re welcome, Bucky,” you said quietly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “I’m the lucky one here, I promise.” 

The two of you sat in silence while you watched the slow rise and fall of Alpine’s side while she breathed deeply, content and fast asleep from the exhausting day of playing and her many adventures. 

“‘M gonna say it again, babe,” you started, yawning part way through. Bucky rubbed your side and nuzzled closer. “Happy birthday.” You felt Bucky smile, the tug of his lips tickling the side of your neck while his breath fanned over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, placing a single kiss on the column of your throat. “I love you so much.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | ����𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

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My Girl [Masterlist] — Full length series

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife? 

Status: Series is complete!

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Overview:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Dream cast moodboard

Headcanon/blurbs:

Soft proposal

Bath time

Injury HC

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Slow Burn [Masterlist] — Full length series

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: After a one night stand with Hangman disrupts the fresh start you were looking for when moving to San Diego, the unexpected pregnancy forces you and Jake learn how to live with each other and tolerate one another. As the months go by, you slowly get to know the real Jake beneath the facade he puts on, but when old flames and work obstacles threaten to topple everything, your new relationship is put to the test.

Status: Series is complete!

Overview:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

Teasers:

Chapter 5

Chapter 7

One-shot requests:

Christmas Day