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mercvry-glow · 2 days ago

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break in the system

paring. jack abbot x wife/doctor!reader

warnings. age gap (jack late 40s, reader early 30s), hospital setting, descriptive child injury and recovery, no death, jack and reader are parents of a 6yo boy, no physical descriptors used for reader, reader has a sister, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. always in my dad!jack era, please feel free to send me idea like this I serious love them so much. please enjoy, this one is a nice hurt/comfort fic. as always please enjoy and any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 2400+

It was a rare, golden kind of morning. The kind you almost didn’t trust, because it was too smooth.

Jack had brewed coffee before either of you had to ask. You’d packed Mason’s favorite snacks while he sat sleepily at the kitchen island, rubbing his eyes and swinging his little feet under the stool. He was wearing his Spider-Man shirt today, matched with a pair of black shorts. His soft curls sticking up in every direction.

Your sister arrived just after sunrise, toting a canvas bag filled with activities and snacks and promising him a park trip and a stop for ice cream if he was good.

“You ready for a super fun day with Aunty?” she asked, ruffling Mason’s hair.

“Super tired is more like it,” Jack muttered around his coffee, but he kissed your cheek and then bent to kiss the top of Mason’s head too. “You be good, buddy.”

“I am good,” Mason answered, matter-of-fact.

You all laughed. It was one of those small, perfect family moments you didn’t think to savor until later.

At the hospital, the day passed in that rare, deceptively smooth rhythm. You took vitals, gave meds, reassessed post-op pain levels. Jack floated between trauma calls and consults, his voice calm and clinical when needed, still managing a wink when your paths crossed in the hallway. The familiarity of working alongside him was strangely comforting—a rhythm you’d both mastered through the years of shared chaos.

It was nearing noon when you finally took a breath. You leaned back in the break room, sipping lukewarm coffee, your phone resting silent on the table. You stared at the lock screen—Mason’s smiling face, missing front tooth, sunshine and freckles—without even realizing you were smiling at it.

Jack walked in and flopped down across from you, stretching his legs out with a groan. “Quiet today. I don’t trust it.”

“You never trust a quiet shift,” you replied with a soft laugh.

“Because quiet means it’s coming,” he said, tapping his temple like he could feel the shift in energy.

You shook your head, teasing, “Your trauma-sense tingling again?”

He was about to quip back when the trauma pager went off.

You both jumped—not dramatically, but instinctively, the way people do when muscle memory kicks in before thought.

Jack unclipped his pager and read aloud: "Level 1 peds trauma, ETA 2 minutes. Six-year-old male. Head trauma with LOC. Fall at park."

Your stomach dropped a full three inches. Jack went still beside you.

It wasn’t unusual. Kids came in hurt all the time.

But your brain was already moving ahead, shuffling information like puzzle pieces, trying to ignore how familiar it sounded.

Six-year-old. Male. Fall at the park. Level 1 trauma. Loss of consciousness.

It was just a coincidence.

Jack stood, voice a little tighter now. “Come on. Let’s go.”

You moved in practiced sync, already heading toward Trauma Bay 2, the air feeling a little thicker than it had ten minutes ago. You didn’t say it—not yet. Not even to each other.

You didn’t say anything.

Because you couldn’t. Not until you knew, and gut feelings didn’t count for the truth.

And the moment the trauma doors slammed open and you saw the flash of a small Spider-Mant t-shirt beneath bloodied gauze and an oxygen mask—and suddenly your world tilted.

It was him.

The trauma bay erupted into controlled chaos the moment the gurney rolled through the doors.

You were at the foot of the bed, frozen for half a second before instinct kicked in. Jack was already moving forward, eyes locked on the little boy lying so still under the oxygen mask.

You didn’t even have to say his name.

The Spider-Man shirt. The Freckles. The curls matted with dried blood. It was Mason.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, barely audible, before your training took over like a switch flipping. But that voice—the parent voice—it never shut off. Not this time.

“Six-year-old male,” the medic rattled off, breathless but focused. “Fall from monkey bars, about six feet. Witnessed loss of consciousness, about two minutes. Regained briefly, then vomited twice. Unresponsive en route. GCS was 8, now trending to 6. Possible seizure activity reported by caregiver. No obvious long bone fractures. He was wearing a helmet for his bike earlier—removed at the park.”

You didn’t realize your hands were trembling until Jack grabbed your wrist gently. His voice was firm, steady—the voice of a trauma attending—but his eyes were glassy with panic barely held back.

“You can’t be in here,” he said lowly, eyes flicking toward the doors.

You shook your head. “I’m fine. I can help.”

“No—you’re his mom right now. Go.” His jaw tightened. “Please.”

The please hit you harder than anything else. You backed away, your legs feeling like they weren’t fully connected to your body anymore, your heart hammering as the rest of the team swarmed your baby.

Jack turned to the team. “Let’s move. What’s his pressure?”

“Ninety over fifty-six. Pulse 142.”

“Get a stat head CT. I want neuro and peds trauma paged now. Two large-bore IVs, hang NS bolus. Let’s get a collar on until we clear his c-spine.”

You backed into the wall of the trauma bay, peering through what felt like glass separating you from your husband and son. Your hands pressed flat against the cold surface as you watched your husband slip into a version of himself that didn’t exist at home. Dr. Abbot. Commanding. Composed. Making rapid decisions while your son—your Mason—lay still under fluorescent lights.

Your sister appeared moments later through the open door, eyes red, cheeks tear-streaked.

“I’m so sorry—he was fine, he was running—he always runs ahead—he just slipped—he hit the back of his head—he was okay for a minute but then—”

You pulled her into a tight hug, holding on for dear life. “It’s okay. You did the right thing. You got him here.”

Inside the bay, Jack’s voice cut through the buzz: “GCS is still six. Pupils reactive but sluggish. No external bleeding beyond scalp laceration. Let’s move now—CT and labs.”

As they wheeled Mason away, Jack followed, casting one last look back toward you through the window. His jaw was tight, but his eyes broke in that second.

You nodded once, already following down the hall toward radiology.

The hardest thing you’d ever done was not run in there and scoop your son into your arms.

But right now, Mason didn’t need his mom, he needed doctors.

The CT suite was silent except for the rhythmic click and hum of the scanner. You stood just outside the control room glass, arms wrapped tight around yourself, watching Jack through the sterile glow.

He hadn’t left Mason’s side. Not for a second.

The techs were gentle, fast, and professional. Jack kept one hand near Mason’s foot the whole time, the other tucked against the side rail, whispering barely audible reassurances—things like, “You’re okay, buddy. Almost done. I’m right here.”

Even though Mason couldn’t hear him.

Even though your baby hadn’t opened his eyes once.

The scan ended. The attending radiologist had already been called down—an older, calm-voiced man you trusted completely. He pulled up the images, and when Jack joined him at the monitors, you followed, swallowing hard.

“There,” the radiologist pointed. “Linear parietal skull fracture, left side. No depression. He’s lucky.”

You exhaled shakily, but it wasn’t over.

“Contusion here,” he continued, circling the left temporal lobe. “Localized cerebral edema. No midline shift, no herniation. Small subgaleal hematoma along the occiput—probably from the initial impact. No signs of active intracranial bleeding.”

Jack nodded, arms crossed tightly over his sturdy chest, voice strained. “What about seizure risk?”

“Moderate. The contusion is sitting near cortical tissue. If he did seize en route, it’s not unexpected. You’ll want continuous EEG. We’ll monitor ICP closely for the next 48 hours. Neurosurgery should take a look, but this is non-operative for now.”

Your breath caught. Non-operative. You clung to the word like a rope in the dark.

“He’s stable enough to go up?” Jack asked.

“PICU? Absolutely. Intubate if his GCS drops again. Start seizure prophylaxis—Keppra, likely.” and with that it ended, short and sweet and not enough all at the same time.

The elevator ride up to the PICU felt like moving through water. You were allowed to ride alongside the bed this time, one hand brushing Mason’s tiny fingers.

They felt too cold. Too still.

His face looked smaller without his usual noise, his bursts of energy, the chatter. They’d cleaned most of the blood from his hair, but you could still see dried streaks clinging to his ear. His lips were parted slightly beneath the oxygen mask, his lashes damp against his cheeks.

In the PICU room, monitors beeped quietly, soft and steady. A nurse worked quickly and calmly—hooking up IV lines, starting the EEG leads, dimming the lights. Another brought in the seizure meds. Jack stood in the corner, arms limp at his sides now, adrenaline draining from his face.

The door closed.

And finally, the room went quiet.

You sat beside the bed and took Mason’s hand fully in yours. It was so small inside your palm. Always had been. But now it felt weightless, like something you couldn’t quite hold onto.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered.

Jack didn’t respond at first. Then he moved behind you, his hand finding your shoulder. His voice broke when he spoke.

“Yes, you can. Because he needs us to. He’s going to wake up. He is.”

You leaned into him, tears slipping silently down your face as you looked at your son—your entire world—wrapped in wires and machines, and not moving.

You didn’t sleep that night.

Neither did Jack.

Still you took turns sitting by the bed, staring at the monitors, willing the numbers to stay steady. Hoping for a flicker of movement. A twitch of fingers. A shift in those long eyelashes. And in the quiet, with Jack’s hand around yours and Mason’s resting between you both, you whispered promises neither of you had made out loud before:

We’re never working the same shift again. Not if it means risking this.

The room truly felt like a time capsule. Hours passed in a haze of fluorescent lights, rhythmic monitor beeps, the gentle hiss of oxygen.

It was day two.

Mason hadn’t opened his eyes.

His vitals were holding steady. The cerebral edema hadn’t worsened. The neurosurgeons were cautiously optimistic, calling his fracture “clean,” and the contusion “contained.” The EEG hadn’t shown any additional seizure activity overnight, and the Keppra seemed to be doing its job. His pupils were still sluggish, but reactive. He was breathing on his own. Everything was textbook.

But textbooks didn’t prepare you for how still a six-year-old could look when the light left his eyes.

You were in the chair again, your fingers curled gently around his. You’d barely moved all day, afraid that if you stepped away, you’d miss something. Jack was sitting on the couch now, head leaned back against the wall, one foot bouncing anxiously. He hadn’t left the both of you beyond grabbing the spare sets of clothes out of his truck.

The lights were dimmed, the machines soft and steady. You rubbed slow, soothing circles across the back of Mason’s hand, whispering to him like he was just dozing after a long day.

“Hey, lovebug,” you said quietly. “It’s okay to wake up now. Daddy’s here. I’m here. You’re safe.”

You leaned in close, brushing your lips against his knuckles, careful of any swelling.

“I know your head hurts. I know you’re tired. But you’re okay. You’re safe.”

Jack stirred at the sound of your voice, rubbing a hand down his face. He moved beside you, placing a palm lightly on Mason’s ankle.

As if he heard you both.

Mason’s fingers twitched.

It was so small you almost thought you imagined it.

You straightened slowly, eyes locked on his face.

Then his eyelids fluttered.

“Mason?” you whispered.

Jack stood up so fast the chair he had moved too scraped against the floor.

Mason’s eyes opened—barely. Just enough to see the soft hazel underneath. He blinked slowly, unfocused, then squeezed them shut against the light.

“Hey, baby,” you said gently, leaning close again. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

He let out a faint, croaky sound—half breath, half mumble.

Jack stepped forward, his voice catching. “Hey, bud. It’s Daddy. Can you squeeze Mommy’s hand for me?”

Another pause.

Then—your fingers were squeezed, weak but there. Real.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you pressed his hand to your face. “There you are,” you whispered.

Mason blinked again, this time managing to squint up at the two blurry figures hovering over him. His lips parted. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

“My head hurts.”

You choked on a sob, letting out a shaky laugh. “I bet it does, sweetheart. But you’re okay. You’re okay.”

Jack cleared his throat, crouching beside the bed now, brushing hair gently away from Mason’s forehead. “We’re gonna take really good care of you, buddy. You scared us.”

Mason looked at you, then at Jack, and then murmured, “Did I miss the ice cream?”

You both laughed—quiet, breathless, full of relief.

“No,” you said. “Aunty owes you extra scoops now.”

He gave a tiny smile, then drifted again, eyelids heavy, but this time… it was just sleep.

Not unconsciousness. Not seizure. Not silence.

Just rest.

The next day brought sunlight through the tall PICU windows, soft and golden, catching in the folds of Mason’s blanket. He was propped up slightly now, still sleepy and sore, but undeniably there. Awake. Talking a little more. Asking small, simple things like “What day is it?” and “Can I have ice cream now?”

You and Jack stayed close, moving slower now, the urgency replaced by the kind of stillness that only comes after a storm.

There were still scans ahead. Neuro checks. Days of rest already planned in advance. But for now, Mason’s vitals were steady. His headache was easing. The swelling in his brain was beginning to go down. And his eyes—when they looked at you—were full of that quiet spark again.

That afternoon, you sat beside him in the recliner, Mason tucked against your chest in hospital-issue pajamas, his IV carefully taped and his fingers curled around your shirt. Jack was across the room, dozing lightly on the couch, arms crossed, head tilted, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

Mason’s voice came soft against your collarbone.

“Mommy?”

You tilted your head down. “Yeah, baby?”

“Will you stay here when I sleep?”

You smiled, kissing the top of his head.

“Of course, baby. Daddy and I both will.”

And with his breathing deepening, his small body warm against yours, and Jack snoring softly in the corner, you finally let yourself close your eyes.

Not out of fear.

Because—for the first time in days—you knew everything was going to be okay.

mercvry-glow 2025

#the pitt #the pitt max #the pitt x reader #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott #jack abbott x reader #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbott x reader #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbott #Jack Abbot.<3 #the pitt hbo #shawn hatosy #jack abbot x you #jack abbott x you #dr jack abbot x you

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bettys-redwinesupernova · 3 months ago

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I GET YOU

rafe cameron x fem!reader

( moodboard does NOT depict readers appearance !! )

WARNINGS: none? i can’t really think of anything, just pure fluff! soft!rafe :’) maybe the slightest mention of worrying about what others think/fear of being judged? lmk if i missed anything !!

SUMMARY: rafe and weird!reader are one of the strangest couples in the obx. nobody has any clue how the cunning and cruel rafe cameron is dating the epitome of sunshine. but rafe just gets her, and she just gets him🫶

based on this ask !! i hope you enjoy 🍮🍒 anon, and i hope it was what you asked for, and i added in that the reader makes jewellery and collects sonny’s angels :) and sorry for the late post !! <3

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

THIRD PERSON +

The Outer Banks sun was blazing overhead as Y/N wandered down the streets of Kildare Island. The vibrant clinking of her many bracelets echoed softly in the quiet cul-de-sac as she adjusted her brightly colored tote bag over her shoulder. It was filled to the brim with craft supplies—beads of every color, rolls of thread, and the newest addition to her collection: two tiny Sonny’s Angels figurines she’d found at a small thrift shop on the mainland.

She was a walking burst of color. Her patchwork denim jeans were covered in hand-sewn floral patterns, her lime-green tank top layered over a long-sleeved baby tee, and her hair was adorned with barrette clips in the shape of stars and hearts. The contrast between her aesthetic and the neutral, coastal tones of the OBX locals was stark. She stuck out like a sore thumb—and she didn’t care.

And Rafe Cameron loved her for it.

From his perch on the porch steps of Tannyhill, Rafe’s blue eyes tracked her approach, his lips quirking into a soft, almost amused smile. He watched as she practically skipped up the gravel driveway, clutching her tote bag like it held treasure.

“Rafey!” she called out, her voice a melodic lilt that never failed to make his chest ache in the best way. “Guess what I found!”

He chuckled, standing up and brushing off his khaki shorts. “What, another one of those creepy little baby dolls?”

She gasped in mock outrage, clutching her heart. “They’re not creepy! They’re little angels, and they’re adorable. Look!” She yanked the two figurines from her bag and held them up like prized possessions. One was dressed as a strawberry, the other as a little chef.

Rafe leaned down, squinting at the tiny figures in her hands. “Yeah, adorable is one way to put it,” he teased, but his grin betrayed his words.

“Don’t be mean,” she said, poking his chest lightly. Her rings sparkled in the sunlight as she did so. “You just don’t understand their charm.”

“I don’t,” he admitted with a shrug, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest. “But I understand you, and that’s enough for me.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, and she buried her face in his chest. “You’re such a sap sometimes.”

“Only for you.”

The two of them stood like that for a moment, swaying slightly in the breeze. The Cameron estate was quiet; Ward and Rose were off on one of their trips, and Sarah was, well, doing whatever Sarah did these days. It left Rafe and Y/N in a little bubble of their own, untouched by the world’s judgments.

“You wanna help me make something?” Y/N asked, pulling back slightly to look up at him.

“Make what?”

“A bracelet!” She stepped out of his arms, already rummaging through her bag. “I got these new beads, and I think they’d look great with your eyes.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “You wanna make me a bracelet?”

“Why not?” she said, grinning. “It’s not like you’re gonna wear it in public or anything. Unless…” Her grin turned mischievous.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, though his tone was light.

She giggled, plopping down on the porch steps and spreading her supplies out like an artist preparing her canvas. Rafe followed, sitting beside her and watching as her nimble fingers worked to thread beads onto a piece of elastic.

“Why do you do this?” he asked after a while, his voice soft.

“Do what?”

“This.” He gestured to her array of beads, figurines, and tiny tools. “All of it. The bright clothes, the crafts… you’re not exactly like anyone else around here.”

She paused, looking up at him with a small smile. “Because it makes me happy,” she said simply. “I like colours. I like making things. It’s who I am.”

Rafe nodded, taking her answer in stride. He’d always admired her confidence in being herself, even when people whispered about her behind her back or shot her strange looks in town. It was a level of self-assuredness he wasn’t sure he’d ever reach.

“You know,” she said after a moment, stringing a star-shaped bead onto the bracelet, “a lot of people think it’s weird that we’re together.”

“They’re idiots.”

She laughed, a light, airy sound that made his heart swell. “I know that. But still… you’re Rafe Cameron. People expect you to date, like, the cheerleader type. Not someone who spends their weekends thrifting for doll clothes.”

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was gentle, his fingers brushing against the plastic barrette clipped in her hair. “Let them think what they want,” he said firmly. “You make me happy. That’s all that matters.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re too good to me, Rafe Cameron.”

“Damn right I am,” he said with a smirk, though the teasing edge in his voice was softened by the way he gazed at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

She finished the bracelet a few minutes later, tying it off and holding it up for inspection. It was a mix of blue and white beads, with a single star charm in the center. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” he said, letting her slide it onto his wrist. The contrast between the delicate bracelet and his rugged, calloused hands was almost laughable, but he wore it with pride.

“You look so cute,” she cooed, taking his hand in hers to admire her handiwork.

“Don’t push it,” he said, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifting to the horizon where the sun was beginning to set. “You know, I used to think no one would ever get me,” she admitted quietly. “Like, really get me.”

Rafe turned his head to look at her, his expression softening. “I get you,” he said simply.

She smiled, tilting her head up to kiss him softly. “Yeah,” she whispered against his lips. “You do.”

The world around them seemed to fade away as they sat together on the porch steps, wrapped in their own little universe. It didn’t matter what the rest of the Outer Banks thought of them. They had each other, and that was more than enough.

For the first time in a long time, Rafe Cameron felt like he could be himself. And for Y/N, that was the greatest gift of all.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so so cute and so much fun to write !! i LOVE weird girl!reader soooo much and this was just the CUTEST🥹 i really hope this was what you wanted 🍮🍒 anon and i hope i got the aesthetics correct :) as always, please like and reblog as it means the WORLD to me <333

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #outer banks #bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#fluff #obx #rafe cameron x reader #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x weird!reader #juminocore #heisei retro

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thevillainswhore · 1 year ago

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New Tricks: Celestial Heavens

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Summary: Life couldn’t seem any better — your life long crush, and the football star of your fantasies is now your boyfriend, and your relationship is running smoothly. It’s a dream come true. But when Bucky admits he’s ready to take things to the next level, you’re anxious to make sure losing his virginity is an experience he won’t forget — for all the right reasons.

Which means, a first date is in order.

A night beneath the stars brings the two of you closer together, where emotions run high and confessions sit on the tips of tongues.

Warnings: College AU, Smut, kissing, grinding, dirty talk, praise, reassurance, fluff, fluff and more fluff, pet names, swearing, teasing, first dates, Bucky is a smooth little shit, cute astronomy puns.

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day my loves 🥰 here is the highly requested part two for New Tricks 🥹 the support I have received for part one has been so overwhelming and I want to thank all of you who expressed your love 😭

Beta and divider graphic credits go to @rookthorne - I can’t thank you enough for spending hours of your time helping me bring this AU to life, you’re incredible — this one is for you ❤️

I hope this follow on lives up to your expectations and does our favourite college babies justice. Once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Happy reading my lovelies 💜

New Tricks Masterlist 🌼🐾

New Tricks Playlist 🎵

‼️ Small disclaimer ‼️- while I have done some research, I in no way consider myself to be an astronomy expert. If any of the facts or information I have included are wrong, I apologise profusely.

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, you hum a tune to yourself while waiting for the door to open.

The impulse to knock again after only a moment of waiting is overwhelming and your impatience begins to wane. You grip the canvas strap of your tote bag which is full to the brim with notepads and books, when the door suddenly swings open to admit you.

“Hey–! Oh, it’s you.” Disappointment sours your tone upon seeing Steve in the doorway. You push past his broad frame and enter his apartment to look for the true reason you are there, paying no mind to the scoff that falls from his lips.

“Yes, hello sis. So good to see you, too!” Steve stays by the door, unmoving and starts conversing with himself. “How am I? I’m great, thanks for asking—how about you? Come on in, we’ll have a drink.”

You shake your head, huffing a laugh while you scold him playfully, “Oh hush, Stevie, don’t be so butthurt.” From down the hallway, you see a light casting shadows along the floor — the source coming from a slither of an open door. A flicker of red hair disappears around the door frame. “Huh,” you muse, a smirk dancing on your lips. “You should know by now I’m not here for you. Where is he?”

Steve sighs. “He’s–”

“Buttercup!” Bucky’s shout from his bedroom interrupts Steve, and it snaps your focus towards the direction of his voice. “Baby!”

The heavy thud of his rapid footsteps echoes down the hallway towards the living room, where you currently stand waiting for him, and you can’t help but giggle with amusement at his excitement.

He appears in a blur, skidding into the room with grace akin to a drunken swan — a pink blush dusts over his cheekbones and the boyish charm of his eager smile makes your stomach flutter. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows, and he covertly attempts to catch his breath from the sudden burst of excitement.

“–There,” Steve finishes, lamely.

The bright, pretty smile on Bucky’s lips and how his eyes grow wide when he sees you makes you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. “Hi, Buttercup,” he breathes, and the pure innocence of his greeting melts your heart.

You can’t help but copy his smile as you make your way towards him, where he positively vibrates in place. “Hi to you too, handsome.” The cotton of his shirt is soft under your palms, and you meet his lips with a small kiss. The brush of his plush lips against yours makes you sigh against his mouth, and his hands sneak around your waist to grip your hips, keeping you in place against his chest.

He wasn’t going to let you sneak away with just the one kiss — he never does.

A more insistent press from his lips makes you part your own, and he runs his tongue over your bottom lip.

“Guys,” Steve whines, “Get a fucking room — I don’t want to see that shit!”

The effort to pull away from Bucky’s lips is beyond tolerable, but you refuse to turn and look at Steve as you say, “Sorry, bro,” with little to no remorse for his fragile disposition as the older brother. Bucky does not tear his focus from you, rather, his lips quirk in a playful smirk at your snark.

Unbeknownst to you and behind your back, your brother’s mouth upturns in a smile; the two most important people in his life finally together and so sickeningly in love.

As of a few weeks ago, Bucky and you started officially dating after a shy, whispered question during the late Sunday morning of your first weekend together.

Bucky’s small, timid question of what the two of you were once he dragged you back to bed — after the clean-up from a spilled gift basket in his haste — set the butterflies in your stomach aflame.

Of course, there was no other answer but to rid the doubt in his mind and reassure him.

From then on, the two of you lived in your own bubble of bliss. You, over the moon to finally be with your long-time crush; Bucky, unbelieving of the reality that he has and is deserving of the girl of his dreams, who loves and nurtures all aspects of him.

The only way to describe you both during this honeymoon phase is inseparable — spending every single spare moment through college life with one another.

But no matter how badly you wanted to be with him, and spend more time staring at his handsome features, your art finals were also crucial business — as was keeping Bucky’s GPA intact. The scholarship he revered depended on it.

Steve’s voice brings you from the torrent of memories and back to the present where Bucky held you fast against his chest still. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You reach around Bucky’s neck and twirl your fingers through his hair before whispering loud enough for only him to hear, “Ready to go, Puppy?”

The red flush of his cheeks and the part of his lips has you trying to hide the satisfied smirk that threatens to pull at the corner of your mouth — his new nickname borne from a quick-witted quip you thought nothing of, truly is one of your greatest accomplishments to date.

You remember it perfectly.

Bucky leaned against the headboard, his lips in a full pout, and arms crossed tightly across his chest. The bare expanse of skin was shadowed by the low light of your bedside lamp. “No,” he grumbled, furrowing his brows with his sudden, foul mood.

“Bucky— come on, we have to eat something,” you reiterated for the umpteenth time.

“No.” The dramatics of his brooding had you struggling to rein your laughter in.

“We’ve been cuddling for three hours,” you insisted, deciding to reason with the stubborn idiot. “I literally heard your stomach rumble an hour ago. You need food.”

Bucky sulked. “No. Only need you.”

“Oh my god,” you giggled, “you look like a kicked puppy, Bucky.”

There was a deep, impatient huff, and then he stared at you, an expression of longing covering his features. It only exaggerated his puppy eyes.

A bright idea came to you then, the comparison may just be what you needed to make the boy move… “Here, boy,” you called, patting your thigh with one hand and snapping your fingers with the other. “Come on, who’s a good boy? Huh? You want a treat, baby? Do you wanna be a good pup for me?”

Bucky’s reaction was more than you could have ever hoped for — his entire body became deathly still for a moment, then his arms slackened to fall onto the bed and a deep flush of blotchy red trailed up from his chest and up to his neck.

You would have been worried about overstepping if you hadn’t spotted the dazed, glassy look in his eyes, darkening the cerulean to an Aegean blue.

Bucky liked it.

The praise, humiliation, spliced with a pinch of demand — the entirely accidental recipe for how to break him.

Ever since then, Bucky’s new nickname causes the most visceral reaction he so desperately tries to hide, with very little success. The quiet hitch of his breath has you trying to keep your composure, and if only to tease him a little more, you wink at him.

In the present, he chokes on a sharp intake of breath and coughs.

There’s a quiet, short bout of laughter behind you from Steve, but you focus on Bucky while he catches his breath, still beet red. “You ready to go, Buck?” you repeat, squeezing the back of his neck.

The rapid semblance of composure did nothing to hide the effect your words have. He blows out a breath, and stutters a determinedly stoic, “Y–yeah— almost, just gotta— um— run and g–get my jacket.”

You hum and bump your nose against his before stepping back to let him breathe, “Okay, Buck. I’ll be waiting by the door.”

Bucky wastes no time in spinning around before taking off like a shot down the hallway towards his bedroom. As he disappears, you chuckle to yourself and wonder how embarrassed he will be when he realises that he is already wearing a hoodie.

“You’re wicked.” Steve stands with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. But by the small smirk upturning his lips, you know he’s just as entertained with Bucky’s fumbling than you are. “He’s so whipped.”

Before you have a chance to retort, a honeyed, feminine voice calls from your brother’s room. “Steve, stop hounding your sister and leave her be! You promised me a foot rub.”

“Oh?” It's your turn to cock your eyebrow, and you watch, all too righteously, while his cheeks turn bright red. “Remind me who’s the whipped one again, hm?”

Steve flounders in place, his mouth opening and closing while he searches for the words to no doubt put you back in your place, but another voice beats him to it by calling out to you from the hallway. “Flower, you have no idea! Last week I got him to–”

“Okay! That’s enough of that,” Steve interrupts, quick to shut down the reveal before it knew the light of day. He stalks down the hallway towards his bedroom, and as he goes, he yells over his shoulder at you, “Enjoy your time with Buck, sis, please don’t break him, we’ve got training tomorrow. Love ya — see you next week!”

The door slams shut just as Bucky appears around the corner, clad in both a hoodie and a jacket, and his eyes dart everywhere around the room but at you. The realisation must have hit him, and he was far too stubborn to come back empty handed.

Decidedly, you don’t question him on it. Instead, you hold your hand out to him and say, “Come on, handsome, we’ve got some studying to do.”

And just like that, Bucky’s face lights up and he bounces towards you to interlace his fingers with yours. He follows you with ease while you lead him out his apartment to the elevator, the doors opening for you instantly for the both of you to step in.

The floor numbers descend on the screen, and a companionable, comfortable silence floats in the air. Until you turn to the side when you feel the stare of your boyfriend.

Bucky’s blue eyes shine brightly while he looks you up and down, taking you in once more, and your heart flutters against your chest with the soft smile pulling at his lips. “You look beautiful today,” he whispers, a line of worship that makes your stomach flip. While holding your gaze, he lifts your hand up to his mouth and places a kiss to the back of it.

If the heart eyes from the cartoons were real, then your boyfriend takes the gold.

You barely fight the urge to squeal out loud with the show of heartfelt adoration. “Thank you, baby.”

The elevator doors open with a swoosh as you reach the ground floor. Squeezing his hand gently, you begin to lead him out the lift and towards the exit. “Let’s get going — we gotta make sure you ace this test.”

In the beginning, it took a while to process that you were Bucky’s girlfriend — an ease unlike any other helped you both fit together so seamlessly, as though you had been dating for far longer.

That same ease also makes itself known in your shared sexual compatibility.

Ever since that fateful movie night back in Steve and Bucky’s apartment, the two of you went no further than making out at every opportunity that presents itself (or that you make) and grinding against each other until you both came — though it didn’t stop you both from doing it a lot.

Sex for the first time is a big deal. Bucky’s admission of still being a virgin, and his comfort being your priority, you take every old and new venture into pleasure at his pace. But your hesitance is met with an unprecedented hunger that leaves you breathless with need, every single time.

Bucky’s eagerness to feel you against him, the heat of your bodies intermingling as best they can between the layers of clothing always made him feral with want, and each time he ventures closer, further than he did before in his exploration of your body, it grows with such passion it scorches your skin.

You were going to wait on his signal no matter how long it took. But a few signs were telling you, however, that Bucky wants it.

Recently, your boyfriend has been a little more desperate, more so than usual.

His whines and whimpers turn from breathy and high, to deep, animalistic sounds that send shivers up your spine. Bucky was already putty in the palm of your hands at the best of times, and to witness him let go of his inhibitions was addicting — you wanted more of him, and you have the inclination that he longs for the same.

And although the both of you swore to one another that you would head to the campus library to focus on your studies, somewhere along the way, your feet took you straight back to your dorm room and into your bedroom.

Your giggles and sighs echo off the walls, along with the rustling sound of your bed covers. “That tickles!”

Bucky, the clever, sly boy he is, figured out far too quickly where the sensitive spots on your neck are. “‘M sorry, baby,” he whispers against your neck, his breath hot and fanning over the delicate skin. His sweet, tender kisses start to turn heated — more passionate and intense as his hands begin to wander over your body.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes against the curve of your jaw. “You smell so good, Buttercup — could jus’ eat you up.”

You softly moan in reply. The sudden hunger in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine and settle heavily between your thighs.

“C’mere,” he growls, and he rolls his body over yours, forcing you to lay flat against the mattress. You quickly wrap your legs around his waist as he trails sloppy kisses from the curve of your mouth and down the slope of your neck. “Atta girl, good girl.”

The feel of his lips against your skin makes your eyes flutter closed, and it’s entirely impossible to withhold your upper body rising with the arch of your back, pushing your covered breast up against his chest.

You can’t help but think of how confident Bucky has grown in such little time — his boldness only adding fuel to the fire.

Bucky firmly grips your waist in his hands with a thready moan, and he slowly, torturously inches them up towards the bottom of your tits. You feel the brush from the tips of his thumbs through the fabric of your bra and shirt, the pressure of them indescribable.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” He squeezes his eyes shut as he tests a roll of his hips into you. The high moan that tumbles from your lips jolts him, and he thrusts forward with a small, disjointed groan — the heavenly pleasure of grinding his cock against your clothed cunt almost too much for him to bear. “Feel so good, Bee — holy fuck.”

You grin up at him, squeezing your knees against his hips. Another thing Bucky grew confident in: being vocal in the bedroom. His litany of curses and range of vocabulary comes to life if he loses himself enough; bold in his actions, he takes charge more and it leaves you a wreck every single damn time.

“Gotta keep going, baby,” he pants into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “don’t make me stop, please don’t make me stop.” The desperation in his voice is as addicting as the pleasure he so freely gives, and you moan loudly to the ceiling. His pure, feral need to take what he wants only sends you closer to the edge. “Fuck–”

Your whines and pleas for more mix with his deep grunts on every grind into you. “Bucky, don't you dare stop,” you gasp, grabbing at his shoulders and wrinkling his shirt in your grip. “Oh my god, please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop,” he promises as he pants against your neck. “Not gonna stop till you fuckin’ cum for me, Buttercup.”

You grab onto the back of his thighs, forcing him to rock against you faster. Harder.

Bucky’s whimpers only serve to drive you crazier and with wild abandon, you buck your hips to meet his thrusts. “So close, baby. Almost there— oh, fuck,” you cry.

Bucky bites the skin of your neck, causing you to gasp loudly and moan.

“Fuck, doll,” he groans, and he swallows your whines with frenzied need, his tongue laving over yours. The harsh pants for air when he pulls back to speak send you into a whimpering mess. “Drivin’ me crazy, Bee. Need you so bad, you got no idea—”

“Keep going, please, keep going!”

“—Gotta have you,” he grunts. “Need these fuckin’ clothes off — wanna see your perfect body.”

It’s hopeless to keep your moans at bay. His ferocity has you on the edge and your thighs shake as you balance on the precipice. “Gonna— gonna cum.” You tangle your fingers into his damp hair and pull. “Bucky, baby—”

“I know, pretty girl,” Bucky coos. “I’ll get you there, don’t worry—”

“Please, please, please!” you frantically beg. The knot in your stomach is wound tight; the fast rhythm of Bucky’s thrusts pushing it to the point of shattering.

With a slight shift in angle of Bucky’s hips, the tip of his cock rubs against your swollen clit through your leggings, and you scream from the sheer ecstasy that flows through your veins with your climax. “Cumming! I’m cumming— oh my god, I’m cumming!”

Bucky’s hips falter, and he chokes out a raspy moan, “Fuck!”

The shattering of built-up tension rushes over the two of you; harsh moans fall from Bucky’s parted lips while he rides out his high, his hips continuing to grind against you.

It all falls on deaf ears while fire still runs through your veins.

“Holy shit,” Bucky whispers, finally slowing down his breathing and stopping the faltering, aborted thrusts of his hips. The growing wet patch that stains the crotch of his sweatpants no longer makes his cheeks flush with shame.

Quiet whimpers and gasps for breath leave you unable to speak, to utter just how wrecked you feel beneath him.

“Holy fuck,” Bucky repeats, and he gently rests his lower half against yours while carefully keeping his upper body propped up on his elbows. “That was–” Hot breaths fan over your lips as he rests his forehead against yours. “So fuckin’ good.”

You laugh breathily and squeeze his shoulders, the press of your fingertips meeting hard, strong muscle.

It’s a peaceful moment; a serene bliss you only find in the comfort of Bucky’s arms. It feels right to be cocooned in his warmth — your boyfriend always making you feel safe.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bucky says softly, placing a quick kiss to your nose, then a lingering, passionate one on your lips. “I can’t– fuck, can’t believe you’re mine.”

You smile brightly up at him, lost for words, and with a tired huff, he rolls off of your body to lay beside you. Your chests rise and fall in a soothing sense of synchronisation.

The slow drain of adrenaline from your body erupts in a sudden fit of giggles.

Bucky blinks, then smiles hesitantly, a confused quirk of his lips. “What’s so funny, Buttercup?”

“I just–” You bite your lip in an attempt to stop your laughter so you’re able to respond to him. “Sorry– it’s just a little crazy to me how you’re not as shy as you used to be.” A teasing smirk pulls at your lips. “You’ve gone a little rogue, Pup.”

Heat creeps up Bucky’s neck and covers his cheeks with an adorable red flush. Even if your man has gained a lot of confidence, he will never be able to rid the bashful puppy inside of him.

“I should be worried,” you tease. “You’re giving me a run for my money.”

“Right, that’s it.” Bucky suddenly shoots up and climbs over you, pinning you in place with his hips and thighs. One of his hands snakes up your arm, then the other, and you shiver with the ghost of sensation, only, he smirks. “I’ve got you now.”

Your wrists are suddenly together, unable to move from the top of the bed and in the grip of his hand. “Hey–!”

There’s a wicked, playful glint in his darkening eyes as he looks down at you. “You’ll learn, Bee, that I’m not a man to be teased.” The hand he has free begins to flit over your ticklish spots.

“Bucky,” You warn as you nervously chuckle, trying to edge away from his touch. “Don’t you even think about it.”

That doesn’t deter him though. He runs the tips of his fingers, a feather light touch, underneath your tank top. “Oh, no– no, no,” he tuts. “I have the upper hand now, baby.”

“No!” you loudly squeal, trying to kick your feet to dislodge the weight of Bucky’s athletic build over your lower half, but it’s of no use.

You burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter — tears start streaming down your cheeks while your boyfriend watches in cruel amusement above you. “Where did all that fighting talk from earlier go, huh, Buttercup? Where did it go?”

“Okay, okay! I– I lose, you w–win!”

With a satisfied sigh, Bucky yields and lets go of your wrists to bring one hand down to your waist, closely following with the other as he starts to gently stroke the exposed skin of your middle.

“You’re too easy, baby,” he chuckles, fondness bursting over his features.

“Yeah, well,” you sigh in defeat. “You played dirty. Best believe I’ll get you back, big guy.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you both while you breathe heavily and close your eyes against the exhaustion overtaking your limbs. The rush of endorphins and all manner of happiness still flowing through your veins.

Until, “Did I go too far?” Bucky asks suddenly, his voice timid, small.

The tone of his question indicates a sense of duality — he’s not just asking only about the tickle fight.

You open your eyes to the view of his long hair hiding the two of you from the world; your room obscured by the curtain of it. The bright, shining blue of his irises steals your breath with the depth of emotion swimming in them — keeping you firmly within the bubble the two of you created in your passion.

“Oh, Bucky,” you whisper soothingly, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek — the soft strands of his hair against your fingertips sends an unprompted shiver down your spine. You move your hand from his cheek so your index finger could press against his nose, then up to smooth over the furrow between his brows. “Not at all, handsome.” An effortless smile pulls at your lips, one that he hesitantly returns. “It was perfect, I promise.”

Though he doesn’t seem to settle. Something is on his mind, that was obvious — his tells are easy to decipher from the time you spent studying his expressions. When he is unsure, hesitant, the tip of his tongue runs over his bottom lip; when anxious, his shoulders hunch inwards in an attempt to make himself smaller.

Bucky swallows thickly.

You frown. “Are you okay, Puppy?”

The soft lilt of your voice soothes his worries, and he takes a deep breath before responding with a wavering, “I think I’m ready.”

The implication of such a comment makes your eyes widen slightly — while the possibilities are endless for what he could possibly be referring to, you’re almost certain you understand exactly what he means.

As though he suddenly realises how it could be interpreted, he barely whispers, “I w–wanna have— have sex.” There’s a slight tremble in his voice despite his courage to confess.

You blink once, twice, hesitating only for a second before opening your mouth to reply, to question him, but Bucky rushes to add, “With you.”

It’s your turn to swallow — despite the harsh dryness coating your throat. In the past, you had partners, summer flings. Few stayed, and even fewer were worth the trials and effort of a proper relationship. And through those couplings, sex became something that didn’t faze you.

With Bucky it feels different.

The connection is far more meaningful to you than any casual hookup from a club, and to know he is in a space where he is comfortable enough to place such vulnerability in the palms of your hands… It is not lost on you, the importance of his choice.

You look deep into his eyes while you seek his full consent — if only just to quell the doubt that swells within yourself. “You’re sure about this?”

“One hundred percent,” Bucky confidently assures. “I want all of you, Buttercup. And I wanna give you all of me.”

Fuck, you curse to yourself. You didn’t deserve him.

You nod, then say, “Alright, baby.” Bucky grins at you, and this time you rush to add, “Let me do this properly though, okay? I want to take you out; treat you like you deserve.”

A sudden sheepishness clouds his expression, and his eyes dart downwards to your lips while he licks his own. “Mhm,” he mumbles quietly, “Y–You can do that if— if you like.”

You take both of his cheeks in your hands, and you tilt his head up to place a soft, loving kiss to his swollen lips. When he makes direct eye contact with you, you whisper against his mouth, “You deserve the world, Pup — nothing less. So yes, I would love to.”

The night of the long anticipated date night arrived faster than you realise — after classes, study sessions, and accompanying Nat to the boy’s football training to cheer them on, time flew by in a blur.

As much as Bucky begged you for a scrap of a hint or clue for what you planned, you kept it under tight wraps; a lock and key that will not budge for even the sweetest of pleas.

It hasn’t been an easy task to stay strong against his wide, puppy eyes — on more than one occasion, you almost let slip. But with severe determination, you successfully keep it a secret.

And by god are you proud of yourself for such an achievement.

You know for sure that Bucky is going to enjoy himself tonight — every last stop pulled, and with the help from your brother for the venue, you feel confident in the plan.

That is, until you smooth over the invisible wrinkles of your dress for the umpteenth time while you make your way down the hallway towards their apartment, your stomach roiling with anxiety of the unknown. Will Bucky truly like it? What if he hates it–?

A hand with perfectly manicured, blood red nails grabs yours, and pulls your fidgeting fingers away from the seam of stitching to the pockets of your dress. “Babe, please stop panicking.” Natasha’s soothing tone brings you back down to earth. “You look incredible — Bucky isn’t going to know what hit him.”

After hearing of your plans from your brother, she was quick to offer her help with your makeup and hair, which you graciously and gratefully took her up on. You were desperate for some feminine support, and Nat came in the form of an angel sent from the heavens.

The way she worked her magic left you unable to believe it was you staring back at yourself in the mirror; hair flawlessly styled and makeup ethereal. A shaky sigh escapes you. “You really think so?”

All in all, as you walk down the hallway to the door that hides your date from view, arm in arm with your guardian angel, there is not one reason for why you are so anxious — though the pressure you place on yourself to make sure this date is perfect is among one of the chief suspects.

You meant, wholeheartedly, what you told Bucky before — he deserves the world, and you crave to hand it to him. “I mean–”

“Listen to me,” Nat says fiercely as she steps in front of you, blocking your path to the door of the apartment and stopping you in your tracks. Her hands grip your arms, tethering you to reality. “I know for a fact that boy is going to positively die when he sees you.”

The tension releases from your body with her comforting words, but Nat still goes above and beyond to bring you out of your spiral. “Hell, if I wasn’t already with your brother, I'd have snatched you up myself.”

You can’t help the small smile that quirks your lips for her instilled confidence, and she winks.

You’re grateful that Steve has found someone so genuine who you easily get along with. Natasha is a beautiful woman both inside and out, faultlessly honest and loyal — traits that are hard to find in a person, yet here she is, extending her help with little thought or expectation of it being returned.

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying to convey how much you appreciate her. “Y–You didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Maybe not.” Her hair bounces as she shrugs. “But us girls gotta stick together — especially now that we’ve got two helmet heads stuck to our back.”

“Come on.” Her arm hooks around yours, and she pulls you along. “Let’s go get your boy.”

Before you can blink, you are standing outside your brother’s apartment, and with a deep breath and moral support of the redhead on your arm, you bring your closed fist up to the wood. “Here we go.” Three, firm knocks ring through the silence, and you step back to wait.

The anticipation doesn't last very long at all before the door swings inwards with a flourish.

Steve stands in the entryway, his back turned towards you while he shouts into his apartment. “Hurry your ass up, Buck–!” You lightly switch your weight between your feet, waiting for him to turn around. “They’re at the door!”

There’s a clattering bang and more curses from inside the apartment, when Steve finally turns around to greet you. “There’s my favourite girls—” He freezes in place, mouth slack from shock, and his eyes trail up and down your body. “Flower,” he gasps in awe. “Oh sis, you look so beautiful.”

The sincerity in his words immediately brings tears to your eyes, and Nat hisses at her boyfriend, “Hey, don’t ruin her makeup!”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says slowly, still taking you in. “I just– you’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you.”

Nat hums happily while her hand rubs your shoulder. “Isn’t she? I said Bucky’s going to die when he sees her.”

“Guys,” You whine, the hot flush of embarrassment leaves you feeling utterly flustered.

Steve ignores you though, readily agreeing with his girlfriend as he opens the door wider to let you both enter. “She’s right, Flower. It suits you perfectly.”

A surge of giddiness hits you — after a time of intense deliberation of your wardrobe, you chose one of your favourite sundresses to wear for the special night, a spaghetti strap in a soft, cornflower blue. A small surprise and homage to someone special. “Thanks Stevie, I really appreciate–”

“Okay, okay, wait–” Bucky rounds the corner from the hallway as he enters the living room, interrupting you. “What about this one?”

The cufflinks on his navy blue button-up steal his whole attention, while his long, chocolate hair conceals you from his view. He struggles fastening the cuffs with the subtle shake of his fingers, and you can almost hear his inner frustration when he huffs an annoyed breath, blowing strands of hair from his face. “Dammit, I swear–”

You stand there with thin lips to contain your laughter while waiting for him to look up.

“Steve?” Bucky asks frustratedly after he doesn’t receive an immediate response. “Do you think Buttercup will like this outfit or not–” His head tilts upwards, hair falling either side of his handsome face that is painted with exasperation at being ignored, and his words falter.

Blue eyes widen in surprise to find you standing there next to his best friend.

“Oh– fuck,” Bucky gasps, and his jaw slackens with the gravity of your presence; truly awe stricken by the sight of your opulent outfit and appearance. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps uselessly around his inability to speak.

The click of your shoes against the floorboards doesn’t snap him out of his daze let alone register in his mind, so deep in his fixation of you.

You take the chance to admire his appearance.

The navy, button-up shirt clings to his broad shoulders, accentuating the definition of the muscles all the way down to his forearms, and with each movement, the material tightens sinfully. The top few buttons of his shirt are left undone — a choice you’re most thankful for because of the tease of his bare chest. Black slacks fit snug to his hips and grip his thick thighs.

On any normal day, when Bucky wasn’t out in the field in his football gear, he normally stuck to his casual clothing of an old t-shirt and sweatpants — comfort over presentability, not that you ever complain about the sight of him in sweats. But this is the first time you’ve ever seen him remotely dressed up.

You walk towards him and grab his hands with yours, stopping his absentminded fidgeting — gravity keeping him routed in place.

“I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, Bucky,” you say, gazing into his eyes while you wonder how lucky you are to hold his attention in a room of his favourite people. “If that answers your question.”

“My god, Bee,” he whispers, finally able to give a voice to the flock of thoughts circling his mind. “You look stunning, baby — ethereal.” He laughs, a little deliriously. “You’re kinda killing me here.” His large hands encircle yours, bringing them up to hold against his chest.

There’s so much emotion in his eyes as they dart over your figure like there’s not enough time in the world for him to take you in.

“Give us a spin!” Nat calls into the charged air while she clings onto Steve’s arm, who watches on teary eyed.

Bucky takes one of your hands and lifts it into the air, encouraging you to twirl. The skirt of your dress fans out around your thighs, and you can’t help but grin wide as your boyfriend whistles low. “You're a goddamn dream, Buttercup.”

He guides you back into his hold, before gently gripping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to bump his nose against yours. “And all mine.”

The way Bucky’s stare burrows deep into your soul and makes a home where he rightfully belongs — it takes everything you have to not blurt out the three words residing on the tip of your tongue, but something has you biting your lip against the impulse.

Instead of declaring aloud what your mind and heart feel, you settle with another truth, “And you, Bucky Barnes, are a sight for sore eyes.”

A dusting of pink spreads high over his cheeks, and you take pride in being able to fluster him so easily — your adorable Pup would never lose his bashfulness.

“What did I tell you, honey?” Natasha bumps her hips against Steve’s as she snickers into her hand. “He’s practically drooling over her.”

You join in with their laughter while Bucky pulls you close and buries himself into your neck, even more flustered from the insistent teasing, and he grumbles low into your ear, “Great, now there’s two of them.”

Leaning back to better look at his flushed face, you assure him, “I think you’re adorable, baby.”

His eyes twinkle with a spark only you could ever bring out of him. “I’m excited for the night, Bee,” Bucky declares, honest and sweet.

“Me too, handsome,” you readily agree while you step back, the small hops of uncontainable excitement making Steve and Nat chuckle. “Are we all set to leave?”

“Oh!” Nat cries, “Before you forget—” She slips out of Steve’s hold and rushes into the kitchen, coming back a second later with a wicker basket full of food, the very same that she insisted on when she first found out about your date. With a wink, she hands it to you. “You can’t leave without this.”

“You’re an angel,” you praise, walking towards her and holding your arms wide for a hug. She readily accepts it and kisses you on the cheek. “Thank you so much for this.”

Just as you step back from her embrace to grab her offering, Bucky swoops in and grabs the basket before you can even touch the wicker handle. “Hey! Excuse me, Barnes,” you scold, frowning at him. “I am more than capable of carrying that.”

“I know,” Bucky teases while he walks backwards towards the apartment door, a devilish grin on his lips. “But I don’t care for a picnic basket gettin’ in the way and ruinin’ the view of my girl in a pretty dress.”

Your jaw drops from his suave words, and you stand there, flustered as you watch his retreating form. Without looking, he opens the door with his free hand and bids farewell to his best friend with a nod, then he smiles at Nat.

Bucky then looks to you. The flick of his hair as he nods towards the hallway pulls you from the reverie. “Come on, beautiful. The night is young; the possibilities endless.”

Where the hell has he gotten his silver tongue from? your mind questions.

“He’s gotten too smooth for his own good,” Steve comments as though he read your mind, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You don’t say,” you reply easily. To get to the door, you walk past your brother, and he slips a folded piece of paper into your hand while Bucky is walking into the hallway, his back turned. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Steve grins. “Have fun, Flower — you deserve this.” Naturally, it wouldn’t be a traditional sibling farewell without a departing shout of, “And make sure you wear protection, shithead!”

The Brooklyn streets are aglow from the overhead lights while the moon creeps up the horizon, watching over you and Bucky holding hands. He blindly follows you towards your best kept secret.

“Let me get this straight.” Bucky swings your arm with his gently. “You’re telling me I can’t have any clues about where you’re taking me?”

“Nope,” you respond, staying strong to your oath of silence. “We’re a couple of blocks away, you dummy. You’re going to find out in five minutes — be patient, I know it’s hard.”

“C’mon, Bee,” Bucky begs. “You don’t wanna put a poor man out of his misery?” He lightly tugs on your intertwined hands to spin you into his chest.

“Hey–” You look up at him to find his eyes hooded with barely restrained lust.

“I almost died already after seeing you in that dress for the first time, and now you’re torturing me, I have to watch you walk in front of me in the damned thing.”

Oh, you laugh to yourself. He’s really turning the charm up.

“Puppy,” you whisper breathily, intentionally running a hand down his chest. The action and your touch makes Bucky shudder. “Believe me when I say I could make you do a lot worse.”

A deep flush of red paints his cheeks and spreads blotchily down his neck, and his breath hitches when you cup his jaw in your palm. “Be good for me, and be patient,” you warn, the fan of your breath over his lips only worsening his flustered state. “I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Y–Yeah, okay–” He clears his throat and sets you back onto your feet, though he does not release your hand.

A flash of mischief darkens his eyes when you pull him onwards, and you look over your shoulder at him when he says, “Yes ma’am.”

That is something you could get used to hearing. “Atta boy.”

The rest of the walk is quiet but calm — a mutual contentment stretching between the two of you where words aren’t needed.

You know that around the next street corner lay your surprise, and Bucky still has no idea what is in store — the piece of paper that Steve gave you begins to burn a hole in your dress pocket.

The exclamation of surprise that falls from Bucky’s lips when he lays eyes on the museum makes all the effort worth it, though it grows to a state of clear confusion from the furrowing of his brows. “Wait, it’s late — isn’t it closed?”

“Come on,” you say in reply, and instead of going to the main entrance, you lead Bucky towards an alleyway where Steve told you the back entrance for staff is situated.

The crinkle of paper is louder than the cheering crowd at a football game, and you grip the invaluable information as you near the locked door. Steve’s offering rings in your mind: It will get you into the main foyer, from there, you’re gonna need to get sneaky.

Bucky’s hand squeezes yours in an attempt to get your attention. “Bee?”

You’re too homed in on the memory of Steve talking to you about your plan — one of their teammates works within the museum, and he was able to pull a few strings and call in a couple of favours for the gold mine in your hand.

You determinedly walk towards the keypad built into the wall next to the door and unfold the note. In the process, you let Bucky’s hand go — you instantly feel the loss of connection.

“Um— Buttercup,” he chuckles nervously, glancing over his shoulders to spot any onlookers. “I think this is classified as illegal trespassing right now.”

“I mean,” you say, then you stick your tongue between your teeth as you work the six-digit code from the piece of paper to the keypad. The low tone press of each digit covers up the shuffle of feet behind you. “Bucky, it’s okay — it’s safe.”

“But–” He hesitates when the mechanism clicks to signify it's open.

You look at him and suddenly grasp the idea that he is anxious — his football scholarship and prospective future could be ripped away from him within the hour should the two of you get caught by the authorities.

“Hey, hey, we’re good — no one’s gonna catch us, I swear,” you assure. Though he still looks on edge. You don’t want Bucky to feel apprehensive for the sake of his headspace or the rest of the evening, and your only option is to offer him your most sincere form of faith. You hold out your hand, palm up. “We’re gonna be okay. Trust me?”

There’s a small, nervous twitch of a smile on his lips, and then, finally, his tense shoulders and posture relax as he steps forward and sets his hand into yours with an ease that shocks you, only strengthening the solid connection you have.

“Come on.” Bucky follows behind you, a slight laugh on his breath as you all but run into the museum.

Different eras of evolution pass by in a flash; hundreds of exhibits dedicated to all corners of the world go ignored in lieu of taking Bucky to one place that, normally, was not an easy area to walk through and explore, given how popular the exhibit is.

By the time you reach the doors hidden behind a set of double, velvet curtains, you’re out of breath. “O—kay,” you pant, hands on your hips as you slightly bend forward. “We’re — we’re here.”

Your boyfriend, the teasing bastard he is, chuckles while he extends a hand to your shoulder, “Are you okay?”

The bastard hasn’t even broken a sweat.

“Fine — I’m fine,” you gasp, and you gesture at the curtains. “Come on, I can’t hold it in any longer–” The heels of your shoes click over the floor, and you push aside the curtains to reveal the door — only then do you turn around and smile at Bucky. “Here we go.”

The doors fly open with a flourish and reveal a domed planetarium with the signage above a giant moon: A Journey Through The Stars.

It is a coveted event within the science community, and only after you hear of it through whispers in the halls of your dorms and classes did you realise it was perfect.

Darkness cloaks and envelopes the two of you as you step inside — Bucky moving slowly in his daze of amazement. On strings and platforms above and lining the dome ceiling are twinkling lights and stars, the only source of lumination to show the wonderment in his cerulean blues.

You watch from a distance with bated breath while Bucky stares to the ceiling, mouth agape, taking in the moving three-dimensional hologram above him and everything it has to offer.

The galaxy, with its swirls of pinks, purples, and blues among millions of stars, are brought to life before his very eyes. Planets thousands of times bigger than the two of you cross and circle one another above your heads, closer than either of you could have ever thought possible, and yet, still only just out of reach — the concept achieves the impossible.

In the end, you realise as you stare at Bucky, your heart swelling with the love that courses through you, that you have gone beyond the very goal you were desperate to attain; to give Bucky Barnes the world.

He spins on the spot, eyes bright with a childlike awe you have only ever seen on the mornings you've woken up in his arms. The glow of the celestial wonders captures in that second, a memory that will last forever — the sight of your man, the centre of your world, underneath the stars.

Ever so slowly, Bucky delicately brings his gaze back down to earth, and notices the distance between the two of you. His voice echoes across the room, off of the planets and stars as he asks with a waver in his voice, “H–How did you know?”

You smile. “That you’re kind of an astronomy nerd?”

Bucky only nods his head, still at a loss for words. Strands of his neatly tucked hair fall over his eyes, and you take a deep breath and steady your own voice. “Do you remember our first movie night with Stevie and Nat?”

There is a small hum of acknowledgement from deep in his throat.

“Well,” you continue, “I remember the two of them were arguing, it took them ages to settle on a film choice. I was beginning to lose my tether.” The recollection of the memory — their voices and banter make you chuckle. “Anyway, a trailer came up on the TV for an upcoming film about an astronaut getting stuck in space — the Martian, maybe? I’m not too sure.”

He is purely focused on you as you speak, and you begin to recall your favourite part of the memory with a fond smile, ignoring the slight lump in your throat from the overwhelming flood of fondness and adoration. “But I watched– I watched as your head snapped up instantly. You were enamoured, Bucky — I’ve never seen you so hooked into anything more in my life.”

Time freezes as Bucky stands there, unmoving and speechless. The lack of reaction from him makes your stomach twist with nerves, and you rush to fill the silence, rambling on, “Then I noticed the smaller things. Your stack of astronomy books on your nightstand, the NASA merch I find when I steal one of your sweaters.” A small laugh escapes then at his incredulous expression. “And so, I went out on a whim, piecing everything together, and I– well, I thought I should try my chances.”

“You really—” Bucky swallows the lump stuck in his throat. “You noticed all of that?”

“Of course I did, Bucky,” you tell him with reverence. “How could I not notice something you’re in love with?” The colours of the night sky shimmer over his face and over the sheen in his eyes as he stares at you. Hesitantly, you ask, “D–Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” He repeats, huffing a breath. “Do I– do I like it–?”

There’s a thud as the basket he was holding falls to the floor, and you gasp while he storms towards you and picks you up around your waist to spin you around in the air.

His grin is wide while you squeal with shock. “Damn right I like it!” he shouts with pride. “My girl is the fucking best!”

“Ah–! Bucky!” The skirt of your dress flutters over your thighs as you hold onto his shoulders.

He whoops and yells his happiness, and after a few rotations, he carefully places you back down onto the floor, only he doesn’t stop his persistent touch — kisses scatter over your face, never lingering in one place for more than a second.

“You’re — so — amazing.” His lips move downwards from your face to your jaw, then your neck. “Can’t — believe — you’re — actually — mine.”

The ache in your stomach flutters from your laughter, though you are on cloud nine and find it difficult to care when the boy you’ve had a crush on for so long is kissing your face like there is no tomorrow.

Eventually, Bucky begins to calm down, settling his forehead against yours while wrapping his hands around your waist. “This means everything to me, Buttercup.” He grants you a slow, final kiss to your lips. “Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome, sweet boy.” You move closer into his chest and peck him on the lips. “Now let’s have that picnic.”

The two of you sit under the largest planet, and you dive into the contents of the picnic basket to find Natasha has packed a whole range of finger foods from sandwiches, mini cakes, to strawberries and grapes. A small bottle of your favourite drink is tucked into the side of the basket, next to two glasses.

After a toast, “To what the universe has planned for us,” you both bask in one another’s company — two tiny specks of the universe coming together as one.

You listen intently as Bucky excitedly rambles about the different planets, as well as his love for Mars in particular. The gesticulation and smile on his face is priceless, and you only wish you had thought to bring a camera.

Bucky continues endlessly — listing interesting facts about each planet and star he knew, and he goes into detail about any active NASA projects or upcoming ones he’s been keeping track of.

Not only is he an avid storyteller, he makes sure to involve you in the conversation, engaging you with silly questions on whether you believe in other life out there, and any of your thoughts you have about historical space ventures.

It is easy to fall into step with his passion, and you know that you could stare all night as his whole face lights up, especially his eyes, while he talks about something he thought no one noticed before.

But you did.

The highlight is when Bucky begins to talk about star constellations — his love and adoration surpassing that of anything you had heard from him before.

He sits behind you, legs resting either side of your body while he holds you to his chest with one arm, the other pointing up towards the dome ceiling. “You see that one there, Bee?” There’s a cluster of twinkling stars in the direction of his gesture. “The large rectangle one — that’s Orion.”

The soothing rumble of his voice against your back is remedying — home.

“It’s also known as Orion The Hunter,” Bucky explains further. “A Greek name, but its true origin is believed to come from the ancient times of Babylon.”

“It’s beautiful, Bucky,” You sigh happily. The cluster and the whole of the night’s sky is truly beautiful — once they were just a pattern of lights in the sky to you, now they hold far more meaning.

“Yeah,” your boyfriend agrees. You don’t see how his eyes flicker down to you, rather, you only feel his cheeks rising in a smile. “It is.” He clears his throat. “The constellation includes two of the brightest stars in the sky.”

“Really?” You hunch forward a little to look upwards.

“Mhm,” Bucky confirms with a hum.

With a huff of effort, you push yourself up onto your feet, and walk closer to the constellation until you are directly underneath the pattern of stars. It’s with a new appreciation you stare up at the twinkling lights that you didn’t have before — admiring the complexity of the placement but the simple beauty of it.

The reflection from the dome ceiling illuminates onto your skin, tattooing patterns of a realm that will never be discovered for its full existence.

Bucky, however, focuses entirely on you — his girl, in a reality the two of you once never thought possible.

A shuffling of feet comes from next to you, and Bucky stands and makes his way towards you. He places both of his hands onto your cheeks to tilt your head back down, to be back in the present with him. “Maybe not the brightest. But that’s okay, because that one is only meant for me anyway.”

It’s sudden, but it consumes you whole — mind, body, and soul — of the realisation that Bucky Barnes is the love of your life.

You fight the tears threatening to bubble to the surface, though it’s futile — a few escape and trail down your cheeks to collect on Bucky’s thumbs. Those three pesky words fight to spill from your heart and out into the open, to hang in the closing distance between Bucky and you.

But somehow, it doesn’t seem like the right time. A fragile moment that while you know could truly never break, uttering those words feels like it will shatter the last of your resolve.

And so, you save them; sealing your mouth closed with a sworn promise to let them go soon.

Seconds go by as you collect yourself, and then you manage in a choked voice, “My, my — What have you done with my Bucky?”

“He’s still here,” Bucky vows. “You just make me so dizzy — so goddamn fuckin’ dizzy — that I’ll spill whatever comes to mind.”

That makes two of you.

You place your hands over his, still encapsulating your face. “Well, you certainly know how to make a girl swoon, handsome.”

His lips turn upwards in a lopsided grin that shows a slither of his pearly whites. “I would find a way to pull the moon out of the sky if you asked me to, Buttercup.”

There is no doubt in your heart over that — Bucky would go to the ends of the earth for you. But you didn’t need that, you have everything you could wish for already in the palm of your hands. “Lucky for you, I’ll only ask for a dance underneath it.”

Bucky’s lopsided grin turns into a thousand-watt smile, as bright as the stars above you both. “Now that is something I can make happen.”

There’s no music, no beat for the two of you to follow, but that doesn't stop Bucky from gathering you closer to his chest — his arms cross over your back to pull you flush with his front.

You turn your head to the side and lay your cheek against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to better hold him.

The steady rhythm of his heart guides the steps to your dance, the slow sway side to side of your bodies. You feel the brush of his lips at your temple, then he mutters something under his breath; a barely there string of unintelligible words that do nothing but add to the peace of the moment.

Bucky sighs and hugs you tighter.

The night is only just beginning.

Part Three

1K notes · View notes

arcanefox207 · 8 months ago

Text

See How She Rides

Pairing🔹 Joel Miller x f!reader Rating🔹 Explicit, 18+ MDNI Word Count🔹 4.4k [ AO3 ] Summary🔹 BoatMechanic!Joel Miller is just doing his job when you show up unannounced to soak up some summer sun. Warning🔹 Reader age undefined. Joel is late 40’s. No Outbreak. I don’t want to ruin the plot but this one is mostly smut. Unprotected P in V. Oral. Infidelity. Sleazy behavior. Not beta'd!

F I C U P DA T E S 🔸 M A S T E R L I S T 🔸 A O 3

“S’cuse me, Ma’am.” The greasy boat mechanic says when he notices your shadow looming over him from the dock. “Didn’t know anyone was coming out today.” He leans back from the engine compartment to get a good look at you.

You are standing there in your skimpy bathing suit with a sheer coverup. A wide brim hat and worn flip flops. A canvas tote slung on one arm and your other hand holding a small cooler.

To his point, it was mid-week and an unusual time to be at the marina. Your no-good husband had been on a ‘business trip’ and you were tired of spending the hottest days of summer cooped up at home.

You pull your sunglasses down slightly and look over them at the greasy mechanic in your husband's boat.

Greasy and absurdly handsome.

It was high noon and the sweltering sun rays were wearing him down. He looked wilted and totally done for. The deck of the boat was a mess of tools and oily rags. Clearly he was not expecting company.

He grabs an oily cloth and wipes his hands on it. He looks up at you with scrunched eyes as the sunlight was facing him.

“I’ll be another 10. You mind waiting?” He brings his hand to his brow to act as a visor so he can see you better. You notice how the sun catches the emerging gray streaks in his messy hair and how his weathered skin shows years of hard work. He was probably in his late 40’s if you had to guess.

Not at all. You think to yourself. In fact, this was exactly the type of excitement you needed. After all, why shouldn’t you get to have some fun too.

The soothing sounds of the water plopping against the side of the boat and the dock creaked under you. It made the pause seem extra dramatic and drawn out.

“Hurry up then.” You snap at him, with a hint of playfulness.

He nods and tosses the nasty rag on the floor as he kneels on the backseat and lowers himself back over the engine area. He stretches his arms out long as he reaches to tighten something with a wrench. A sliver of his skin on his lower back peeks out at you and shows more and more the further he reaches. Sweaty and tanned by many hours in the sun.

He was doing some sort of maintenance your husband probably requested they do. He cared more about that boat than he cared about you, that was for damn sure.

You decide that standing on the dock and waiting wasn’t really your style, and you want a better view. You toss your canvas bag and cooler over the edge and step into the boat from the side dock. It shifts slightly with your weight and brings attention to your presence.

The mechanic turns around with a concerned look.

“Careful, ma’am” He reaches his filthy, oil-stained hand out to you as you step into the boat. You grab it, reluctantly, to help with your balance. With both feet firmly inside the boat, you look up at him. You are taken aback by his size. His wide shoulders and tapered waist sculpted perfectly as his sweat soaked t-shirt clings to his body for dear life.

“Joel Miller.” He introduces as he gives your hand a squeeze with his massive paw and pulls it away after you share yours. The corner of his lip pulls up slightly and he eyes you up and down briefly.

“Be outta’ your hair soon.” He turns back to the engine, but can’t help looking over his shoulder to steal one more look at you.

Typical sleaze, but this one was charming.

You let out a deep breath, not realizing you had been holding it. You wanted to tease him initially and have some innocent fun, but now you feel a heat bubble inside you. It was obvious to Joel, too.

You grab your things and kick off your sandals. You make your way to the front of the bow.

This was your favorite part of the boat. The open bow had a lounger that wrapped along both sides and plenty of room to sit at the very front too. It was the perfect place to read a book and sunbathe. The perfect place to distract Joel.

You pull off your coverup and toss your hat to the side. Your hair falls loosely over your shoulders. Your royal blue bikini was an excellent choice for today. This one tied around your neck and made your boobs look fantastic. Your bottoms were strappy and high cut and accented your curves beautifully.

You reach into your bag and grab your suntan lotion. You tie your hair up into a messy bun.

You take your seat at the very front so that you are facing towards the back of the boat. Joel is bent over the lifted back seat where the engine was stored, and head first in there working.

His jeans were tight on his ass when he was bent over. His meaty thighs sticking to the grungy denim. He looked hot and uncomfortable working in the heat, but damn he looked good.

You slather yourself with the lotion while you watch him work, getting more turned on by the minute. When he backed out of the engine to grab a tool his biceps flexed and his sweat beaded on his brow as he met your eyes. He caught you looking.

You bend your knee on the lounger and rub the lotion slowly up the full length of your leg while you turn your eyes away from him. Pretending to be busy and uninterested.

You can still feel his gaze on you as you spread your legs spanning between the two loungers and work on the other side. The minimal coverage from your suit leaves little to the imagination.

Joel stands up with his back to you and his hands on his waist. He shakes his head like he is telling himself not to get involved and closes the engine compartment. His knee turned outward just slightly in a slutty stance as he waits for the hydraulics to finish lowering the lid.

He pushes the top firmly to make sure it latches, and his arms flex as he puts his weight into it. He looked so strong. So capable. So competent. Masculine in every sense of the word.

As he turns towards you he pulls the front of his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. His tanned and sweat slicked skin glistens. You can see his tastefully toned abdomen in all its glory. Your eyes can’t help but notice how his jeans hug his hips and a messy thatch of hair trails up his belly.

“Got a water on ya?” He interrupts your gawking.

He wipes his face once more with the shirt before letting it fall back in place. He scrunched his eyes and his lips pursed while he waits for you to respond.

“Yeah. Sure.” You snap out of your daze and reach into your cooler for a water bottle and bring it over to him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The bottle crinkles under his grasp as he makes quick work of it.

He hands it back to you, empty, and smirks when your fingers feather over his.

He gathers his things and poorly wipes down his grease stains with the cleanest of his shop rags.

The back of your boat looks recognizable again with a full length seat spanning the width of the boat and another padded lounge area above it. Your other favorite place to spread out in the sun.

Joel tosses his things onto the dock. He turns around and leans on the edge of the boat. His fingers tap the sides and he is stalling his departure, maybe deciding if he is going to make a move or be on his way.

You are also wondering if you should just say goodbye and be done with it. It would be the right thing to do, after all. Even though your no-good husband was probably knee deep in his mistress at this very moment. You had little loyalty to him these days, and tolerated just enough to get by with your comfortable life.

“She’s a real beauty.” He slides his hand along the fiberglass edge, slowly and intimately. He pushes himself back up to his feet. He is towering over you again.

“Excuse me?” You know he isn’t really talking about the boat, but you play dumb.

“Would love to see how she rides.” He eyes you up and down and has a deadly serious expression on his face. He chews the inside of his cheek while he waits for your reaction.

You were done for now.

“I’m sure my husband paid you well. Better check your work, and all. Be thorough.”

Joel’s serious expression tries to hold back a grin. His brow softens.

“Alright, I’ll be thorough.”

You bite your lip to hold back your smile and hand him the keys.

Joel goes into full captain mode and starts the boat up. He jumps onto the dock to unwind the ropes from the metal cleats. He was a sight to behold. Letting out a few grunts as he scooched down to the ropes.

You make yourself comfortable on the passenger side lounger, knowing full well you will be in his line of sight while he drives. You grab yourself a wine cooler.

“Listen to her purr.” He taps the steering wheel as he gets back on the boat. He stands at the wheel and moves the throttle just enough to ease out of the slip. He tunes the radio to something playing yacht rock.

It doesn’t take long to get through the channel. The lake is quiet today.

When you finally reach open water Joel pushes the throttle and your sporty boat glides over the waves. The breeze is refreshing and the occasional mist from the waves when the boat catches them just right feels good.

From his angle Joel has a perfect view of your cleavage. You bring your knees up and knock them to the side so he can get an eyeful of your entire body. The suntan lotion makes you shine in the sunlight and you smell tropical and delicious. Coconuts and vanilla. You let your hair down and it blows in the breeze as you cruise along.

After a few minutes you are in the middle of the lake. There is little boat traffic and you are far enough from land on either side. You look like specs in a sea of water.

You reach your hands back and untie your top and let it fall to the floor. You lay back with your chin up and arms to your side, pretending to soak in the sun. All you have left is the tiny strip of fabric barely covering your mound.

It makes you feel alive and rebellious. No one can see your naked chest. No one except for the one you are showing off for.

You are not looking at him, but you know he is staring at your body. You know his jeans are getting uncomfortably tight. You know where this is going.

“Goddamn.” You hear him mutter and out of the corner of your eye you see his arm move to rake through his hair.

Joel slows down the boat and kills the engine. The radio continues to play softly, but the sounds of the waves clacking against the boat are much louder.

“Does it bother you if I do this? I don’t want tan lines.” You innocently ask as you turn your head over your shoulder at him.

Joel is eyeing you.

“Bother aint the word for it, sugar.” He rakes his hand down his face and scratches his scruff. He crosses his arms in front of him and leans against the captain's chair.

You puff your chest out as you adjust in your seat.

“You gonna stop teasin’ and get over here already?” He asks.

You drape your legs back properly to the floor and push yourself up, sliding your skimpy suit bottoms down. You saunter over to Joel, naked and confident.

He is still looking greasy and miserable, but considerably more refreshed. Your eyes go to the bulge in his denim and you reach out to grab his waistband. You want to climb him like a tree.

“I will...” you hook your fingers over the top of his jeans. “.. if you keep this little boat ride between us.” You trail one of your hands lightly over his zipper.

Joel looks you straight in the eyes with a feral hunger. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Deal.” He enunciates it with finality. No more charades.

He grabs your waist and pulls you into his lap as he sits back in the seat properly. Your legs are straddling him and you can feel his hardening cock grind against you. He presses his mouth into yours and roughly pushes his tongue into you. His hands roam your body.

You break away for a moment and grab for his shirt. He pulls it over his head and lets it fall to the floor. You bring your hands to press flat against his chest. His skin is firm and his muscles are tense. He smells sweaty and metallic. It isn’t pleasant, but it brings out some animalistic lust inside you and you don’t want him any other way.

His calloused hands find your tender breasts and he grabs at you. His rough fingertips brush over your nipples and he thumbs your hardening peaks. He is so rough, and it is exactly what you need.

He breaks his mouth away from yours and nips at your jawline and the supple skin in your neck. His movements are ravenous. His hands travel further down your body until he has them firmly on your hips.

He hoists you up so you are sitting on top of the steering wheel. You brace one arm on the side windshield of the boat and the other grabs onto Joel’s hair as he dives into your pussy.

He licks a broad stroke from your asshole all the way up to your clit, taking pause to swirl his tongue when he reaches your most sensitive part.

You let out a moan and buck into him, tangling your fingers in his mess of curls and holding on for dear life. His scruff scratches against your tender skin.

Joel pushes further into you and puts your legs over his shoulders, giving himself more control. His nose nudges your clit while he presses his tongue inside you and laps at the wetness he is extruding from you.

You lay your head back and gasp for breath as he just goes at you deeper and with more ferocity. It is a good thing he is supporting you with his shoulders as your legs are becoming weak. He digs into your hips to pull you even closer into his face.

“Joel! Oh my… god.” You can barely speak. He is devouring you and you can feel your insides surge with elation as he worships you. Your thighs start to clamp firmer on him as you feel the wave of pleasure building and building.

He pulls away briefly and sneers up at you.

“What a messy cunt she is.” His words are crude and vulgar. His mouth is as filthy as he looks. It makes you pulse even more.

He resumes lapping at your folds and is relentless. Pressure is building inside you and you grind against him as he starts to pull away and deny your release. You whine a little, relishing the final brush from his scruff leaving your thigh.

You were so close to coming. This was surely payback for teasing him.

“Ain’t you a sight to see.” He sits upright in his chair and keeps you at arms length with his hands still firmly grabbing your hips and your legs slip off his shoulders. He eyes your swollen and needy cunt. “I got just the thing for you.” He brings a hand to his jeans and unzips.

The audible moan you make when you see its size makes him smirk. He is already hard and leaking. His shaft is impossibly thick. Uncut and girthy.

“You want this?” He strokes his full length and the head of his cock is swollen and seeping as he pumps himself. You have never seen such a beautiful dick. You feel like a feral cat, ready to beg for scraps.

You let out a moan and slide yourself back into his lap. The heavy weight of his cock slaps against your belly. You try to rut up against the underside of his shaft. Anything for some friction. He denies you contact and takes it back into his hand.

“Gonna’ have to ask real nice, sweetheart.”

“Joel. Please.” You beg.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me.”

Joel shifts under you and gets up from his seat, pulling you up with him. One arm finds the small of your back and pulls you up close to him, and the other he snakes between you. He brushes two fingers up and down the length of your slit until they are wet. He thumbs at your clit and plunges his two fingers deep inside you.

The stretch is a lot to take so suddenly but you are primed and begging to have any part of him inside you. His fingers were thick. If you weren’t soaking wet for him you might shudder at how gritty and filthy they were.

He can feel your walls flutter around him as he thrusts his fingers deep, finding that perfect spot inside that makes you come undone.

“There she is.” He smirks as he looks over his nose and down to you and watches your eyes go wide when he touches you just right. Writhing by his hand.

He fucks you until you come, soaking his fingers with your release and breathlessly moaning his name.

He pulls his fingers from you and licks them clean with his tongue. Savoring your sweetness. Pleased with his handiwork.

While you are looking fucked out but still wanting more he doesn’t give you time to recover.

“Oh, did you want a taste, sugar?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond and presses his mouth into yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue. Under normal circumstances you may have found that revolting, but he had a way of making you feral for any contact with him.

You moan as he wraps his tongue around yours. His taste mixed with yours is intoxicating. He reluctantly bites at your lip when you find the strength to pull away.

As much as you enjoy being pleasured by his touch, your mind is clouded by desire to have his cock inside you. Under the baking sun, nothing could quench your thirst more than having his cum spilling into your throat.

“Your turn.” You bite your tongue as you hold back a wicked smile and press away from him. You tug at his jeans and boxers enough that they slide down him. He hastily kicks off his work boots and steps out of them fully.

You take in his perfectly sculpted body. Under all that filth he really was a sight for sore eyes.

You drag your hand down his chest and your fingers trace over his thick happy trail. You step towards him and back him to the edge of the boat while your hand wraps around his shaft. Your delicate, soft fingers are laughable in contrast to his size. You slide a finger down his full length, tracing his pulsing vein. You tease his sensitive tip with a feather touch. He is ready to burst and you don’t want to wait another moment.

He widens his stance and groans softly as you drop to your knees and take him in your mouth. Your hands hold him at the base while you swirl your tongue around him and lick the underside of his cock.

His fingers tangle in your hair as he firmly holds onto you.

You bob your head slowly as you take in more and more of him and he bucks into you. You move your hands to wrap around the back of his thighs as you take him deeper.

You can feel his restraint to take it slow and gentle but it is waning the longer you have him in your throat. Your eyes swell with tears as you try to relax and let him fuck your mouth.

“Look at you. Taking me so well.” He rests his head back and grunts as you pull back and suck on his tip. The salty taste of his precum invigorating you to suck harder as you hollow your cheeks. You feel his cock twitch and pulse and he is so close to bursting inside you.

He suddenly pulls you off of him with a rough grip in your hair. Your swollen lips and open mouth looking pitiful as it loses contact from him.

“Not yet.” He groans. “Gonna make that pussy mine first.” His words fire out through clenched teeth and his eyes are blown out and dark. He pulls you up by your hair. You gasp at the audacity and his roughness.

You stumble over your words of protest and excitement as he pushes you over to the back seat. Even if it’s morally fucked up, you do want him to claim you.

He bends you over the back seat so your knees are perched on the seat and your body is splayed over the back. He pushes his body up against you and nudges you with his cock as he leans over you to speak into your ear.

“Look.” He sighs, picking up that you are having some concerns about this behavior. “Seen him fuck more than one woman on this boat. He’s a loser.”

“Don’t I know it.” You nod in agreement.

He presses his cock against your ass and has you pinned down under his weight. He slides a hand up the side of your thigh and around your front to make a little room between you and the seat. He gently grazes your clit and lets his middle finger dip into you to gather some of your slick. There is no hiding how wet you are for Joel Miller.

“I’m gonna fuck you right, f’this is what you want.” He kisses you in the crook of your neck as you push back against his cock.

You want him inside you. You need him inside you.

“Fuck me, Joel.” He drags his free hand down your spine as he stands upright. You arch your back as he slinks his hand between your legs to press them open.

His cock is still wet from your saliva and he rubs your slick over it for good measure.

“Alright, sugar.” He pushes the head of his cock into you and you claw at the seat under you. His fingers were a lot but they paled in comparison to this. He grunts as he pushes in deeper, taking it slow and letting his cock drag heavy against your walls.

“Goddamn you’re tight.” He picks up the pace and digs his nails into your sides as he pulls you hard against him.

The stretch from him hurts so good. With each thrust he makes more room for himself inside you and you welcome him in eagerly.

He grabs a fistfull of your ass and slaps you hard. You wince at the sudden sting. He claws his fingers back into your sides and holds you tight. He has to be close to finishing. He has been painfully hard for too long to hold out much longer. You are almost there yourself. Filled to the brim by his thick cock.

He lifts one leg onto the seat for more leverage as he pounds into you. He pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest and furiously grabs at your breasts. Each plunge of his cock goes deeper and harder. His hands grab desperately at anything to hold onto, pinching at your skin.

You are teetering on the edge of release. Screaming his name loudly where no one can hear but him. It's cathartic.

He pushes you back down roughly and comes undone inside you. Snarling and panting as he unloads his hot cum deep inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He pants.

You moan and milk his cock as you ride out your shared climax.

As your breathing slows he plants his foot back down and eases out of you slowly. His spend drips out of you and down your leg. You feel like a slut. Joel’s slut.

You crawl down into the seat and lay on your back, with the biggest smile on your face. You have never felt more alive.

You both take a much needed dip in the lake before ending your boat ride. It is refreshing and intimate floating with Joel. For a greasy boat mechanic, he was good company.

When you get back to the marina and Joel parks the boat the moment is bittersweet. You know this can’t happen again and you know you will never stop wanting it to.

“She rides good.” Joel teases as he peels himself away from the captain's chair and goes to step off the boat. “Hope my works’ to your satisfaction, ma’am.”

“Joel?” You bite your lip as you smile at him.

“Mmm?” He looks at you from the dock.

You smile, shyly, struggling to find the words. Joel makes a zipper motion across his lips. He knows exactly what you are trying to say.

“Between you and me, sweetheart.”

With a wink he turns and disappears down the dock.

You resume your leisuring in the sun, plotting when you can do this again.

As always love to my sluts 🧡 @magpiepills @legendary-pink-dot @exquisiteserotonin @for-a-longlongtime @pink-whiskey-woman

@youandmeand5bucks @sparklefarts38 @redhotkitchen

And tagging friends who I hope will enjoy this one too. Love you all, thank you for supporting my shenanigans 🧡

@toxicanonymity @joelsgreys @yxtkiwiyxt @itwasntimethatdidit40 @thebeldroramscal

@schnarfer @tonysopranosrobe @milla-frenchy @nerdieforpedro @mountainsandmayhem

@sin-djarin @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @iamskyereads @maggiemayhemnj

@gasolinerainbowpuddles @yourcoolauntie @inept-the-magnificent @604to647 @sawymredfox

@murder-wife @pedroswife69 @yorksgirl @moonlitbirdie @pedropeach

Banner by me. Divider credit to @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal fandom #the last of us hbo #the last of us #arcanefox fics #see how she rides #boatmechanic!joel #boat mechanic smut #pedro pascal #sleazy joel

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cuteandhughesy · 2 months ago

Text

Love Is Not Dying | Vince Dunn

summary: hooking up with the hottest guy who think you’ve ever seen can’t go wrong…right?

[word count] 7.4k

a/n: formed from this request! thought i’d combine this idea with the very much high-demand need for vince dunn! so with that being said here’s so smut to satisfy your eyes on valentine’s day 💌🤭

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contrary to what movies, shows, books and anything and everything else tells you—moving to a new city is actually really refreshing. there's something about a fresh start that just feels so good. the delicious cafes, the smell of a new apartment, the new restaurants and people everywhere you turn...what's not to like?

seattle is your fresh start—your new city. a place where you can forget about your old life and asshole ex-boyfriend back in massachusetts. getting treated like the dirt on the bottom of a shoe and being cheated on for 2 and a half years really pushes you to get the hell away from hingham.

moving to seattle seemed like the most logical option considering it's where your younger brother lived—playing for the kraken like the ridiculously talented athlete he's always proven himself to be. hockey has never really been your thing though, regardless of matty's undying devotion. you prefer to cheer him on from your couch...with your dad texting you anytime matty scores. you didn't even know seattle had a nhl team until they drafted your brother.

your phone buzzes in your jacket pocket, vibrating the leather and tickling your skin.

little shit

hey. you're still coming over for breakfast tomorrow?

matty's text has you snickering, and you almost walk into a bike rack lining the sidewalk. you blink, a flush covering your cheeks.

y/n

planning on it. unless you've changed your mind and want to treat some random hookup to my well deserved time with you

the bag on your shoulder begins slipping, the faux leather providing the perfect slip and slide for the strap of your canvas tote. the last thing you need is to drop the grocery bag and shatter your eggs and spill the milk. then the whole trip out would be pointless.

matty can tell you're joking around, he knows you too well to assume otherwise. you have always been close, and because of the distance between states, you'd only been seeing one another at christmas and in the summer since 2021–when he was drafted. but now you're in seattle, and your younger brother is only a 10 minute drive from your new apartment.

you've only been here three days, and matty has been bugging you about having breakfast since the u-haul pulled into your complex. little bastard couldn't even help you unpack because of his strict schedule—two game day naps your ass.

little shit

I was going to ask if you wanted sweet or savoury—but maybe I should reconsider having you over if you'd be so inclined to think i'd cancel on my favourite sister

y/n

i'm your only sister

little shit

see you tomorrow 😌

you roll your eyes with nothing but fondness, shoving your phone in your pocket as you continue the walk back to your apartment. it doesn't take long until you're back home, unloading the small grocery haul from the strawberry printed tote bag.

your new job at seattle's biggest law firm—which you still can't believe hired you—started yesterday, and it's only been a day but you feel so welcomed and accepted already. it's another confirmation that you're meant to be in seattle. one of your new co-workers jasmine, a stunning woman with dark skin and chocolate eyes, invited you out to one of the local bars tonight.

you'd gotten the text on the way to the grocery store, as well as a follow up message that she and a few other employees wanted to get to know you better. ever the social butterfly you agreed easily—excitement flowing through your veins at the thought of letting loose, mingling and hopefully forming some friendships.

jasmine let you know that everyone was meeting at the bar around 8:30, and you were welcome to join them anytime then. you make yourself some dinner, a delicious saucy pasta that has you serving yourself a second bowl, before jumping into the shower.

you take your time in there, making sure your scalp is scrubbed, and your legs and underarms are shaved—you're not sure if you're going to wear a tank top, and you're going to be prepared. by the time you've blowed dried your hair into loose, bouncy curls, put on your usual dusting of makeup and decided what to wear—it's time to leave.

you order an uber as you're planning on having a couple drinks, and as you finish up with your shoes, the notification of your rides arrival lights up your phone. on the way to the bar you busy yourself with your phone—responding to emails and texts that you've been neglecting since getting to seattle. you even respond to matty's picture of waffle ingredients laid out on his counter, as well as his annoying message.

little shit

you never answered. so sweet it is 🖕🏽

y/n

if you think I wanted anything but sweet you're just stupid

little shit

ouch. i'm going to poison your breakfast

the uber comes to a rather rough stop against the curb, the middle aged man giving you a polite smile that also says hey, get out. i've got work to do.

you bid a thank you and step onto the sidewalk, the late october air nipping your skin despite it being a warmer evening. you run your hands through your hair to try and tame any frizzy fly aways that have sprouted in the uber, and make your way inside the cozy bar.

you're immediately enveloped in the atmosphere of what feels like a family owned bar—exposed brick and worn leather booths lining the walls, matching the scuffed floorboards under your feet. the lights are dim, giving that mysterious vibe that does nothing but intrigue you. it's cute and packed.

you should've expected it to be busy considering it's a friday night, but the amount of people lingering and mingling throughout the room is just baffling. you push up into your tip toes, searching through the sea of people to try and spot your co-workers. well, jasmine—because you're not sure who else is here.

jasmine finds you first, standing up at their claimed booth and waving. "y/n! we're over here."

you smile as your eyes connect, making your way through the crowd and dodging tipsy people as you walk towards the booth. "hey," you greet warmly, accepting the sweet hug jasmine offers. "this place is nice."

"and fucking packed." your other co-worker, a defense lawyer named brock, mumbles with a grin, taking a slow sip of his beer as he eyes you.

joseph, another lawyer stands from his spot on the outside of the booth, gesturing for you to slip in beside him. you smile politely, slipping your pea coat off and hanging it over your arm. "thanks."

"you look great." jasmine compliments warmly, twirling the mouthful of wine left in the bottom of her glass, creating a mini whirlpool. "seriously where'd you get that jacket—it's killer."

you grin, sliding the clothing item of jasmine's desire between your hip and the wall. your jewelry chimes together as you pick up the small drink menu. "it's from h&m, can you believe that."

she gasps, lips forming a small shocked but amused 'o'. "I wasn't aware of h&m's game."

you laugh, thumbing through the sheets of laminated card stock that display the assortment of different drinks. there's even some typical bar food listed like fries and wings—slathered in sauce and grease. joseph doesn't sit back down beside you, but instead jerks his thumb over his shoulder and in the direction of the bar. "anybody want a drink? i'm going up for another round."

"hit me." brock says deeply, finishing off the last swig of foamy beer in the bottom of his bottle. jasmine follows suit, asking for another mulberry wine with a exaggerated grin.

joseph looks at you expectantly, a playful quirk to his one dark eyebrow. "i'll have whatever whiskey they have, with some coke. diet please, joseph." you say confidently, closing the menu and slotting it back into the metal holder at the end of the table.

brock hums in what seems like approval, drumming his fingers on the slightly sticky table top. "you heard the lady, joey boy."

despite the almost arrogant attitude brock seems to have, he's actually really fucking nice—hell so is joseph, and jasmine even more so. you can't believe how lucky you've been at this job, and having three amazing people to work alongside you is a dream come true.

seattle already feels like home and you haven't even been here a week. you spend a good two hours laughing, chatting—and drinking—with your new friends, and everything in your little world flows easily.

it's almost 11:30 when you slurp up the last sip of watered down whiskey and coke concoction through one of those small black mixing straws. you pout with a tiny whine, dropping the glass back to the table. "i'm empty."

joseph snorts behind the rim of his bottle. "want another?"

"yeah," you huff. "but I'll get it—need to stretch my legs before I start to cramp." jasmine laughs playfully as joseph lets you slide out of the booth, stumbling slightly as your feet find the worn wood floorboards.

jasmine takes a slow gulp of her wine, eyes nothing but mischievous as she eyes you. "sure you just don't wanna get closer to that group of hotties over there? that one brunette can't stop checking you out."

your brows pull, as well as your smile. "where?" you ask wildly, looking over you shoulder to try and find this alleged group of men jasmine alludes to. you find them easily. theres 5 men, all broad and tall, sticking out like a sore thumb. there's one guy in particular—a stupidly good looking guy—who must've been watching you, because as soon as you catch his eyes, his head turns away faster than you can blink.

"don't look!" she scolds with a hushed tone, but her words have no bite against her amused expression.

"I don't care." you admit cheekily, pulling your gaze away from jasmine and back to the guys sitting on the opposite side of the busy bar. although now it's not as bustling, but still packed enough that you have to weave through bodies to get to the bar top.

the female bartender, probably around 50, looks at you flatly. but even with that deadpanned looks you can see a friendly glimmer in her eyes, and the subtle way her lip quirks upwards in a smile. "what can I get you honey?"

somebody on your left bumps into you, too distracted talking over her friends to pay attention to you. you sigh gently, but ignore it, giving the bartender your full attention. "whiskey and coke please. diet."

she lets out a half breath of laughter, grabbing one of the shallow glasses from underneath the counter. "got sick of your boyfriend coming up here?"

you're confused at first, but then the blonde bartenders brows flick towards, eyes darting back to your table—to joseph. "oh," you chime, "he's not my boyfriend but yeah, I was ready to get out of that booth and stretch my legs a little."

your eyes find her shiny gold name tag, 'marlene: owner.' you should've known this woman was important to this place, her energy is just that strong. marlene turns away from you, walking further down the bar is search of the whiskey she's been serving you all evening.

the bar has cleared a bit in the time she's gone, and the oblivious blonde who bumped you earlier and her group has gone back to the makeshift dance floor—but there's still enough of a crowd that if you look on either side of yourself, your eyes are landing on somebodies face or shoulder (depending on their height obviously).

marlene returns after a minute or two, sliding a perfectly made glass over to you—the diet coke bubbles, coming up and stinging your nose. "here you go baby."

"thanks," you grin, opening your small shoulder bag and digging through your various cards. "how much?"

"oh no," marlene snickers, pulling your attention back to her unreadable expression. "it's been paid for." before you have a chance to question what she means, marlene's hazy eyes flicker to the other side of the bar—where she was just making your drink. that's when you see him. the guy who you caught starring at you earlier. the mystery man isn't with his friends, but he's got three beers in his hands like he's been sent up to fetch them.

his cheeks are pink, skin pale. his broad shoulders are covering by a black fitted long sleeve, the material hugging his biceps and doing nothing to hide the ridges of muscles underneath his skin. the man's eyes dart up, finding you and marlene.

unlike before he holds your eye contact for a moment, tipping his head in a greeting and a small smile pulling at his plump limps. your brows raise in amusement before turning back to marlene. "i'm sure i'll see you again."

she snickers. "i'm sure you and him both will."

you take your drink before rounding to the other side of the long bar counter, pushing between bodies until your right next to the attractive mystery man. your chest smooshes against his bicep, and when your nipples catch wind of the contact against his hard muscles, they pinch and tighten.

he looks down at you curiously, but amused nonetheless—tongue darting out to swipe along his lower lip.

"so first was staring at me across the room, and then next was buying my drink..." you trail off lightly, eyes twinkling with playfulness as you pause in anticipation. "what's after that?"

he breathes a soft laugh, eyes quickly flickering away from you and across the bar. but just as fast, mystery man is looking back down at you. hoping to appear seductive, you slowly take your straw into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the mixing stick before taking a drink—hopefully you're tempting him.

he swallows thickly. "well maybe you'll find out once you finish your drink." his tone is teasing, and it shoots straight down to your core. you haven't even thought of a man sexually since breaking up with your boyfriend—and honestly even having sex with him didn't do anything for you.

you're touch starved, and so horny it's not even funny. so go forbid you start throbbing as soon as an attractive stranger buys you a drink and keeps eyeing your lips. sue you.

your brows raise, and before he can blink, you take your straw out of the glass, raising the rim to your lips and chugging the entire thing. once it's empty, you wipe your mouth and plop the mixing stick into the empty glass and put it back on the bar.

he takes his bottom lip into his mouth, and he can't help but eye the way your lips have been moistened by your drink—and maybe even taking a quick peek at your cleavage. he's stronger than no other man.

"alright," he smiles, tone full of appraisal and making your heart skip. "I'm vince." his hand justs out, and you take it, your small hand almost completely enclosed by his much larger palm.

"i'm y/n." you smile, and the sight has vince's breath hitching. suddenly he's completely forgotten that he's still waiting on jared's wine (his taste is too expensive for beer apparently), and when you ask him to dance with you, he quickly agrees, abandoning the beer bottles in the bar.

from your booth, your new co-workers watch you lead vince out into the crowd, both of you looking at one another with a look that just screams tension. joseph's brows raise, but an amused smile is on his face. "she's insane."

brock blows out some air. "she's hot."

"she's a baddie." jasmine corrects brock, elbowing him in the ribs as a warning for his behaviour. but he just snickers again, watching through lidded eyes as you vince begin moving with one another in a slow, steady motion—knowing grins on your faces as you whisper to one another about god knows what.

you love the way vince is touching you—grabbing you—like you're his. but it's also not possessive, and even though the way he's handling you is confident, you can feel an underlying shyness, or perhaps hesitation in this movements.

vince doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and he also doesn't want to come across awkward. it's not everyday he's out at the bars, dancing with strangers like this. a very beautiful stranger who makes his dick twitch in anticipation nonetheless.

you dance together for what feels like forever—but could honestly only be 10 minutes. every look vince sends your way, every lick along his bottom lip, every touch, breath, laugh, and whispered words has your stomach dropping and head spinning.

his voice isn't super deep, but it's got a certain rasp that has you hanging onto every word and question that passes through his tempting lips. between dancing with vince and going back up to the bar together for refills—marlene giving you that look everytime she spots you tucked under his arm—you learn quite a bit about the handsome stranger.

vince works in sports, but he didn't disclose his actual profession. it has your mind working overtime—is he a journalist? maybe a football star? does seattle have a basketball team? he's originally from a small town in canada, one that you've never heard of. his ideal vacation is somewhere tropical, his favourite food is italian and he's a boobs guy based on the fact he can't stop looking at yours.

thank the fashions gods for low cut shirts.

and it's not like he's been only letting you ask him questions. vince has been just as interested in asking you about your life (and squeezing your hips, but that's a whole another story). telling him about moving out to spend time with your younger brother and working at a high end law firm came easily, and the almost proud smile on vince's face made your decision feel validating.

which says something, because validation from a stranger is never something you've strived towards. vince doesn't feel like a stranger though, which is a shame because after tonight, chances are he will be.

a little while later jasmine is sliding up next to you and vince, her eyes narrowed playfully as she looks at the lack of space between the two of you. "hey," she starts, her grin growing. "we're hungry, thinking about getting pizza. you guys wanna come?"

a small gasp leaves you, and your eyes light up like fireflies. your drunk brain and empty stomach agree—pizza would be divine. "oh my god! yes."

jasmine cheers, lips tainted with her wine. "yay! okay i'll get your coat and we will meet you outside." her eyes dart to vince again, smiling increasing before she slips back through the crowd.

you take your lip between your teeth, but even that can't stop your smile from widening. your small hands wrap around vince's forearms, squeezing the muscles beneath your fingers as you blink up at him. "you coming? please come with me. we can share pizza lady and the tramp style."

he laughs, a real hearty laugh that comes from his stomach. his fingers slide up your back, passing over your bras straps. "how would that even work?"

you shrug. "I don't know but we can figure it out."

vince's eyes twinkle with something you don't recognize, and his lips quirk up higher in an amused grin. you blink up at him again, all doe eyes and babydoll like and he's nodding. "okay, let's go."

you grin triumphantly, and he lets you pull him through the crowd easily. there's something so sexy about it, especially when you know he could easily overpower you in any way—at any moment.

the chilly air nips at your bare arms, leaving a wake of goosebumps all over your skin. you curse three different swears, all of them blending together to create one big fuck fest. vince snickers, rubbing his hands over your arms in attempt to warm you up. he's so hot you're pretty sure your underwear are soaked with arousal.

when joseph passes you your coat, vince takes it from your co-worker with a nod, and then he helps you slip it on. you're seriously going to die before getting pizza.

the walk isn't more than 10 minutes, and you can smell the tomato sauce and warm dough as you approach the building, lit up by neon signs. inside is busy, mostly drunk college kids. vince keeps you close, and arm around your waist between you and your coat like he's from a damn rom com. "what are wanting?" he asks you softly, leaning down so he's whispering in your ear.

you hum pleasantly. "just cheese."

joseph gets garlic bread for himself, and he threatens if anyone tries to steal a bite he'll walk them over the head with the red plastic basket. jasmine and brock get a deep dish pizza to share, loaded with vegetables and pepperoni, while you and vince get your cheese pizza. and yes, he pays for not only your order, but your co-workers orders too.

you might be in love and you might have to keep him forever.

because it's busy, the seating options are a little sparse, and you won't be able to all sit together. your co-workers get a table meant for two, but steal a spare chair from a friendly group of frat guys and make it a table for three. you and vince find a spot at the counter, two available stools in the corner against the wall—next to the neon outline of pizza slice.

your so squished in there that you're overlapping with vince, and your leg might as well be draped over his spread, huge thighs. you take an unattractive bite of your slice, and groan happily.

vince smiles, chewing his own bite of pizza as you watches you with amusement. "good?"

you nod. "so good." you finish off the slice before speaking again, sucking your thumb into your mouth to taste the pizza grease. "what's your favourite disney movie?"

he's almost at the crust of his second slice of pizza. vince hums between bites, brows pulled in concentration as he thinks of an answer. "sleeping beauty."

your lips quirks. "really?" he nods. "you kind of remind me of prince phillip you know, all sexy and tall." you admit shamelessly, picking up another slice and biting the into crust first.

vince blushes, but doesn't look embarrassed. "you think i'm sexy?" he questions, dusting his hands off against his thighs. you watch his fingers as they run over his legs, and when he catches you staring, vince's smirk widens.

"yeah, I do."

his tongue swipes along his bottom lip, and he leans closer to you by an inch or two. "I think you're really sexy." vince says, voice all low and hushed like he doesn't want anyone to overhear. nobody could even if they wanted to, the array of loud voices and charli xcx playing over the speakers is too loud.

you take your lip into your mouth as you smirk. you decide to tease him, "does that though have anything to do with my cleavage?"

vince's eyes twinkle again. he holds your gaze, and his brows pull together the smallest amount—smirk never wavering. "part of it, yeah." to accentuate his point, vince's gaze flickers to your boobs for a moment, and then finds your warm face again.

your cross your legs to try and relive some of the throbbing pressure in your corse. "perv. eat your pizza." you send him a teasing glare and smile before you take a bite of your slice in an attempt to try and not jump his bones in front of everyone. vince's eyes linger on you for a long moment but eventually he does what he's told, picking up a slice and taking a huge bite.

a moment passes, and he swallows. "you always this curious?" it's not accusatory, but instead curious. vince waits for your response, wiping his mouth with a logo branded napkin before balling it up and setting it on the nearly empty pizza stone.

"always," you nod. "you can learn so much about a person when you ask them questions—questions that aren't informative but rather fun and silly. like the disney movie one."

he hums. "so what have you learned about me from my disney answer?"

you purse your lips in thought, dropping the rest of your slice back down to the stone. you ponder for a moment as you try and find the words. your eyes flicker over his, and you lean in close, your leg pushing against his. "I think that you're a bit of a hopeless romantic, even though you'd never admit it. you're a bit shy, but you love meeting new people. you'd do anything for the people you love—even if that means pricking yourself on a cursed needle."

vince nods, a deep sound rattling in his throat as he looks at you. without realizing it, he's leaned in closer to you, and if you wanted to, you could brush the tips of your noses together. he takes his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on the skin as his gaze darts over your face. "interesting."

your quirk a brow. "am I right?"

he releases his lip with a gentle pop, gaze never once wandering from your warm, beautiful face. vince swallows, "yeah. you're right."

you cheer and that has vince's fond smile widening. he has to ignore the way your small, painted fingers absentmindedly run over his jean covered knee or else he'll have no choice but to take your clothes off and fuck you on the counter.

vince blinks the dirty thought out of his mind. "ask me another question. I like when you're talking."

a beat passes before your eyes glaze over with lust. you put your hands on the top of his thigh for leverage as you lean into his space, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you speak. "are you gunna to fuck me tonight?"

his body tenses, you can feel it under your palms. you grin in satisfaction, pulling back just enough so your eyes lock. vince's hand slides over the side of your face, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you. before he can talk himself out of it, he leans in and kisses you.

it's chaste and experimental like he's testing the waters and giving you the opportunity to stop him. but you don't want him to stop, your earlier words doing enough to prove that. you kiss him again, a more firm pressure that last 5 seconds. he taste like pizza and beer, and you can't get enough.

and then vince kisses you for a third time, his lips slotting between yours in a proper, hotter embrace that has your toes curling in your shoes and belly swooping. mindful of the public space, he releases your mouth after merely 15 seconds, resting his forehead on yours as you both breathe heavily. "I want to ruin you."

"ruin me." you whisper, pressing one more kiss to his glistening lips. "let's get out of here." you breathe against him, sliding off your stool and standing between his spread thighs.

the taxi ride back to your place is excruciating. you can't keeps your hands off one another—subtle squeezes and trailing fingers over sensitive areas. vince kisses your neck in open mouthed, hot intervals, and each time you moan—which makes him snicker against your skin.

the taxi driver keeps sending you looks through the rearview, but you don't even care.

as soon as you're in the elevator, vince's lips are on yours—capturing them in a breath taking kiss that has you tingling. your hands rake over his strong chest, feeling up his muscles underneath his black long sleeve.

he shudders at the feeling, but his kiss doesn't waver. vince has one hand tucked in your hair, scratching at your scalp soothingly while his other hand squeezes handfuls of your ass—the combination the perfect mix of soft and rough.

"I need you." you whimper against his lips. vince sighs deeply, pushing his bulge against your lower belly—he doesn't have to repeat your words. he doesn't need to in order for you to know it's reciprocated.

the elevator dings, and the heavy doors slide open. your grin, pulling away from vince and taking ahold of his hands. you pull him down the hallway quickly, stealing flirtatious glances over your shoulder. as your hands begin unlocking the door, vince smacks your ass firmly before giving it another hard squeeze.

he leans into your back. "you're so fucking pretty." vince presses a kiss to the junction of your neck, and it has you faltering, eyes fluttering closed and a sigh leaving your puffy lips.

thankfully vince pushes the door open further and saves you from having to move. he uses his hips to shuffle you into your own apartment, never stopping the suckling against your neck as he gently kicks the door closed.

his hands are all over you again, squeezing your hips and running up your belly until his thumbs brush the underside of your boobs. he repeats the motions until your withering, wordlessly begging for more. vince pushes you to the wall, and you shiver when the cold surface touches your chest—nipples pinching under your top.

vince slips off your coat, and his lips trial after it—down your shoulder and towards your elbow. your gasp lightly, looking down over your shoulder with hooded eyes as he removes your jacket, throwing it towards your couch. his eyes flicker up towards yours. "wanna taste you. you gunna let me taste you, baby?"

"yeah," you whine, fingers flexing against the wall. "please...please."

vince smirks and doesn't make you wait, dropping to his knees before his hands trail up the backs of your thighs, rounding over your ass and hooking into the waist pants of your pants. he roughly yanks them down, exposing your skimpy underwear and sticky arousal.

you thank god for choosing sexy underwear tonight.

he groans, palming your ass and exposing your core further, which is barley covered by the fabric anyways. vince nips the skin of your ass, before smoothing the sting with a open mouthed kiss. "fucking god, y/n."

you moan, pushing your hips back as you search for some much needed friction. vince is in a trance, fingers squeezing your thighs and ass as he admires your pussy. there's really no reason for your underwear at this point, he thinks, because there's not enough fabric to cover half of your pussy, never mind all of it.

you're glistening, practically dripping. you can feel vince lean in closer, breath fanning over your slick folds. he nudges your spread thighs further apart, hooking his index finger into the crotch of your lacy paintes and yanking them to the side.

vince licks his lips. "so messy and pretty." he doesn't waste anymore time, and he dives in, licking a wide strip from your clit and back to your leaking entrance.

"oh god." you sigh shakily, eyes fluttering once again at the feeling of vince's mouth on your needy heat. vince has the perfect combination of sucking, licking and kissing that has your knees going weak. "you're so good at this...holy fuck."

vince smirks against you and then sucks your clit perfectly, his nose running along your entrance perfectly. "never tasted something this good."

you gasp, one of your hands leaving the wall and reaching behind you, threading your fingers through vince's thick brown hair. "i'm close." you admit breathily, squeezing his roots in an attempt to keep him close.

vince hums, but much to your dismay he pulls away from you, leaving your pussy to throb and flutter around nothing—searching for more. you pout, but the sight of your arousal soaking vince's lips and chin has you moaning again.

vince smacks your ass as he gets off the floor, flipping you around to face him.

"why'd you stop?" you pout, pushing your boobs against his chest, fingers relaxing over his biceps teasingly.

he smirks. "relax, you'll get it again." vince kisses you again, and you can taste yourself when he slips his tongue into your mouth. the next few moments are a flurry of hurried movements. you pulling off vince's shirt and unbuckling his leather belt—vince practically ripping your tank top off and exposing your tight nipples and heavy tits.

his calloused palms slide up your ribs and cup your tits, giving them a quick squeeze. your head falls back against the wall as vince's thumbs swipe over your nipples, a back and forth motion that has them getting impossibly harder.

"your place is nice." he says lowly. his casual scentence is contradictory to his actions—pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger.

you mewl, arching into his touch desperately. "thanks...ugh-lots of..mhmm. lots of places to fuck me on." your words are broken by your own moans and sighs of pleasure. it's kind of pathetic but vince thinks there's nothing hotter.

he face dips down to your chest, inclosing his warm mouth on your nipple—tongue swirling and prodding the bud like it's his profession. your hands are in his hair again, carding through the locks and tugging when he sucks just right.

vince switches to your other nipple. "where do you want me to fuck you?" he asks before taking you into his mouth, repeating his movements on your nipple while he palms your now unattended one.

you lick along your bottom lip and watch through lidded eyes as vince sucks your tits. you're pretty sure your arousal is leaking onto the floor and puddling between your heels. "you could take me on the floor and I'd be happy."

he releases your nipple with a quiet pop. "don't say that....because I will."

you grin softly, bringing his face back to yours for another kiss. vince's hands slide up the backs of your thighs, and then in one quick movement he's hauling you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his hips.

you gasp lightly against his lips, your soaking core bumping his lower stomach and sliding over his defined v-line. vince doesn't stop kissing you, walking you over to the new couch in your makeshift living room. there's still a few boxes pilled on top of your coffee table, and there's loose clothes thrown over the back of the chair from when you'd been sorting through suitcases earlier.

the room is casted in the moonlights glow and the warm light under your microwave. it makes everything feel soft—makes it feel private and hot. vince drops you against the plush cushions, and you squeal happily.

vince smirks, "how's the couch?"

you take your bottom lip into your mouth, watching with lustful eyes as he begins undoing his button, tugging down his zipper and releasing some of the confinement against his hard bulge. "it's perfect."

his brow quirks up in amusement. "perfect huh?" vince asks, pulling of his jeans completely. he retrieves his wallet from his back pocket before throwing the pants behind him—making you giggle.

you hum in response as vince pulls out a square foil package from his wallet. a condom.

he smirks, leaning over your body. "wanna know what else is perfect?" vince asks lowly. your mouth opens as a quick breath leaves you, but vince isn't actually waiting for a response. two of his long, thick fingers trace over your collarbone and brush against your pulse point. "your skin is perfect."

then those two fingers flow down to your sternum and tease around your breasts—tracing over your nipples with just enough pressure to have you whining. "and these tits." vince trails down to your belly, passing over your hip bones. "and these hips." next is your core, his fingers slipping through your wet folds. "and god this pussy is perfect."

and with the cherry on top, vince slips the same two fingers he's been running along your body into your entrance. the squelch your walls make sound his fingers is intoxicating, and you practically scream out. "tell me what feels good baby." he tells you, eyes reluctantly leaving your pussy where you take his pumping fingers, and flickering to your warm face.

you begin babbling, making a mess around his hand— dripping off his fingers as he continues to thrust into you. "god," you let out a sharp gasp, walls squeezing his fingers and stopping him momentarily. "this...your fingers feel really good."

vince smirks, and he thrusts his fingers into you a few more times—each time rougher than the last. he feels like he's going to combust with the sight of you under him, withering and whining like you've never been touched like this…maybe you haven't been touched like this before. pride swells in his chest at the thought.

vince’s impossibly hard cock twitches uncomfortably in his boxers—if he doesn't get inside you soon he's going to die. in a fluid motion, he is pulling his fingers out of your warmth.

you mewl in protest, but vince is too busy ripping open the condom package and then pulling himself from his underwear to hear your cry. his dick hears the sound though, and it throbs—ready.

vince rolls the latex on expertly, and he lines his red tip up with your slippery entrance. your hips shift, and his head slips inside your entrance—both of your groaning loudly at the feeling.

vince pulls back out, and a devilish smirk grows on his face as you huff all horny and frustrated. "what happened to the shy vince from earlier?" your tone is slightly whiny, but he can tell you're teasing him—your small hands wrapping around his ribs and torso.

"he's not feeling so shy with your pretty face under him." with that, vince pushes his cock into you. the stretch is heavenly, and your walls mold against him like second nature. you moan, nails digging into his pale skin as he comes to a hilt—balls resting against your ass and tip brushing your cervix.

"that okay?" he asks you breathlessly—dazed eyes flickering over your blotchy skin and puffy, parted lips. he can't help but let his gaze fall between your bodies, right down to where you're connected. vince's hips jerk involuntarily at the sight of your creamy walls holding him in, and you whine pathetically at the feeling.

"so good, vince. oh my god." you probably look like a pornstar on your couch right now. vince buried into your dripping entrance with your legs spread wide, heels still on because you'd been too horny to remember to take them off. but as vince begins rolling his hips into you, all thoughts die out, and you can only focus on him.

his pace picks up quickly, much to your satisfaction, pounding you into the couch like he knows nothing else but your pussy. vince's breath fans over your neck and ear, sending shivers down your spine as you hold onto him.

"fuuuccckk, that's—yeah that's good baby." vince groans deeply, hips snapping against yours loudly, the sound echoing in your otherwise quite apartment. "that's right, taking me so well."

his cock rams into you quickly and perfectly, ilicting another round of ridiculously loud moans from you. you're too wound up to even respond properly, your words coming out in a jumbled string of curses and groans. the couch squeaks under his unfaltering thrusts.

your eyes pinch shut, and the grip on vince tightens as your walls begin to flutter—an all too familiar pattern as you near a desperately needed orgasm. "please." you whine breathlessly. you don't even know what you're asking him for, but it doesn't matter—not to you and not to vince.

his thrusts don't stop or slow, his balls smacking your ass as he continues to pound you into the cushions. vince curses, pushing one of your legs against your chest to open your pussy up even further. "you gunna cum, y/n?"

you nod quickly, your head pushing further back into the couch pillows as your walls clamp down on his cock. "yeah! oh my fuck, yes. i'm cumming."

vince hisses at the feeling of your release— gooey, warm walls squeezing and fluttering over his length. "holy fucking—ugh." it has vince following suit, stilling as he groans into your neck and shooting his sticky load into the latex protection.

it could be 2 minutes or 15–you're not sure—but vince's body is so heavy and warm on top of you that it has your eyes closing. he presses a kiss to your jawline, lifting himself off you. "you okay?"

you nod sleepy, a lazy grin on your glistening lips. "mhmmm. i'm tired now."

vince chuckles, pulling out of your spent pussy. you whine for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, watching through tired eyes as vince ties off the used condom, padding into your kitchen and tossing the latex in your garbage. he tucks himself pack into his boxers as he gets back onto the couch—kneeling between your legs and slipping of your heels.

you wrap your arms over his shoulders, and he kisses you. this kiss is different—softer and sweeter, but just as good as all the others you've shared tonight. you pull away, "stay the night."

he grins, "i'll stay as long as you want me too."

he's so fucking cute, you think blissfully.

vince pulls the throw blanket off the back of your couch, tossing it over both of your bodies as he tucks himself behind you on the couch. his torso is warm and wide against your back—it's so comfortable and soft, and your eyes begin closing soon after.

—

your phone is ringing.

that's the first thing you register as your eyes flutter open. you squint at the harsh morning light streaming through your windows, looking around for the pesty ringing device to silence it.

behind you, vince's arm tightens around your waist, his semi-hard cock rolling against your bare ass instinctively. memories of the night before flood your mind, and you feel hot all over again.

he groans, tucking his head into your shoulder.

your phone is still ringing. you sigh, locating it on the floor beside the coffee table. you pick it up, and your eyes widen at your brothers contact photo lighting up your screen—it's some goofy .5 picture you took of him at christmas. you were supposed to be at his place for breakfast 10 minutes ago.

"shit!" you curse.

vince's eyes flicker open at your panicked tone, and he catches sight of the incoming call before you answer it—jumping off the couch, stark naked and nearly tripping over your heels as you dart into your bedroom.

you throw on the first thing you can find as matty's voice filters through your speakers. "did you fall off a cliff on the way here?"

"I overslept," you say, dragging your ratty hairbrush through your sex messy hair. it gets caught on at angle and you wince. "i'm just about to leave."

matty says something else that sounds like see you soon, but you're too distracted by everything to hear him properly. you hang up the phone with a rushed goodbye, shoving it into the pocket of your jeans. you spray an unhealthy amount of body spray over your clothes and hair, hopefully masking the scent of sex.

you dart back out into the living room. "i'm so sorry, I have to meet my brother for—why do you look like you're about to puke?"

vince is sitting up, posture ridged. his complexion in pale, more so than usual, and he's got his hands cupped over his mouth in a prayer like position. "he's your brother?"

your brows furrow in confusion. "yeah, i'm supposed to meet him for breakfast." the look on vince’s face contorts into what looks like pain, and it has you faltering, stomach dropping to your ass. "why?"

vince's eyes flicker to yours, and he drops his hands from his face. "we play hockey together. i'm matty's roommate."

for fucks sake.

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tiktaalic · 1 year ago

Text

The difference. Misha collins says he is an ally and goes. Shakes head. Due to allyship. I must comply. (Kiss men). Taylor swift says she’s an ally and what she means is she likes hanging out with gay men. The other difference s. Misha will do anything to be TALKED about. Taylor will do anything to be LIKED. very crucial difference. One of them’s a focus tester. One of them sat in his home on thanksgiving to film a twitter apology for something he didn’t do. Another one. Is that misha collins definitely thinks being gay is a little funny. Taylor swift thinks being gay is like. Lady Gaga born this way. A very crucial one. Is that Taylor swift lives to create saw traps. To scheme. And put down hidden messages. Etc. And misha collins does not have the patience for that he is just saying whatever thought crosses his mind immediately. They would both go to a farmer’s market. Taylor swift would be buying beeswax candles and carrying them in a pride month traders joes bag. Misha collins would be buying produce and carrying it in a canvas tote bag he bought at a PREVIOUS farmers market that says GROW LOCAL BUY SMALL. There’s more but this is the gist

#etxt

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onelittlespiral · 1 year ago

Note

Tf where someone's huge musky cock keeps turning others into massive muscle bros on accident?

FML: Cursed

Up front, I’ll say this one’s a bit different. Let me know if you all like it. -❤️

Everything was too bright. My head was pounding. Memories were fading in and out from last night. Fuck, how much did I have to drink last night? I stumbled out of bed, trying to forced myself towards the bathroom to take a piss. I had made a New Year’s resolution to quit the bottle. Yeah, so much for that. I managed a quick piss and splashed some cold water on my face. That helped a bit. At this point all I wanted to do was bury my head back in my pillow. Slowly, I shuffled back towards my bed:

“Yeah? You coming back for more of this?”

A man. A man was in my bed. A hunk of a man was flexing in my bed. My mouth hung open for a moment as my brain chugged to life. I couldn’t quite believe it.

“…God damn it! Uggh, what did I let happen?”

“What, not in the mood? I can be quite,” he started a little pec dance, “persuasive.”

I was not in a mood to be amused by his flirting. “No, no it’s not you-or at least it is you now but-” I stammered, “Look. It’s complicated. Get up, please, I need you out of here. If you take some time to… cool off… it should pass.” I paused a moment, “I’m sorry.”

Quickly, I started pulling together what clothes I could find that would fit his new stature and tossed them at him. Even facing away from him I could tell he was a little taken aback. I’m sure in his current brain he couldn’t quite believe he was being rejected. But I knew it was better for everyone that he leave now. I scooped up his old clothing and threw it all into a tote. It wasn’t his fault he was here in this situation, getting kicked out of a stranger’s house early in the morning. Maybe that’s why I scribbled down my contact info and slipped it into the bag. He would have questions later, he deserved some answers. By now he had managed to put on the cut off tank and the shorts I had thrown him. The shorts were a size too small and left nothing to the imagination, but it would have to work. I doubted his canvas shoes would fit over those behemoths. He would have to go barefoot. After a few awkward pleasantries where he asked me if we should lift together some time and I politely declined, he finally got the message and slipped out the door. I locked it behind him and slumped to the floor. I still had a headache.

It was going to be a long day. At this point I was awake, so I just decided to hit the shower. The steam helped clear my mind so I could try to piece the night together. It had been two years now and it was still happening. I wish I knew how to stop it. But looking back, I’m not sure what else I could have done. Every time it happened though, every time I saw his face, I just replayed that day again in my mind:

We were sitting at our favorite cafe when I broke the news.

“What do you mean? You’re breaking up with me?” my ex boyfriend was stunned. Truly, I don’t think this had ever happened to him before.

“Please don’t act surprised. We both knew this was coming. We aren’t good for each other.”

“Baby, we aren’t good for each other,” he cooed, leaning over and cupping my jaw, “We’re great together. You can’t pretend to deny it. I can feel that cock twitch, hear every moan when you’re inside me. Come on, let’s go home and I’ll bring you to your knees.”

“No. This isn’t about us in bed. This is everything outside of it. I don’t like how you talk to me, how you treat me, how you touch me,” I said, slapping his hand from my face, “and how you treat everyone in the world as your plaything. I just can’t put up with it anymore.”

That finally set him off, “Oh, you have no idea what I can do.” He snapped his fingers.

I watched as a man in a suit next to us dropped his book. He began to convulse, and I watched in horror. He reverted from his fifties to his late twenties in a moment, smoothing his wrinkles as his hair turned from silver to brown. His skin tightened around his swelling body, as his muscles easily ripped through his shirt and pants. A deep moan escaped his mouth as his clothes reformed themselves into a tank top and gym shorts. As a snap-back hat formed and tightened around his head, I grimaced, knowing that his mind was being assaulted with a new identity. I knew the look on his face well as drool flowed from his open mouth. Then, all at once it stopped. He just picked up his book and kept reading. No one else even seemed to notice what had taken place.

It was a thinly veiled threat and we both knew it. “See? This is the shit I’m talking about. What happens to him now? He had nothing to do with this, you just can’t contain yourself.”

“Oh relax, he’s fine. I didn’t dumb him like I do to you. No one will ever remember anything different. Though I imagine whatever new hires at his firm will be confused why the new boss is a jacked gym bro while everyone else in the office is pushing 40 and wearing suits.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“I can’t! I can’t do this anymore. I don’t ever want to see you again.” I gathered my things to make my exit.

He came round the table, in a far less joking mood, “You’ll regret that,” he grabbed at my groin and cupped my package, “from now on, whenever that gets going, I have a feeling you will be seeing a lot of me” I felt a stirring in my sack. Something had… shifted?

“What did you do?” my shouting had finally drawn the attention of onlookers.

“Good luck, baby. You ever want that resolved, you’ll have to find me.” With that, he turned heel and left.

Now, two years later, he was right. I had seen far too much of him. The water had gone cold. I turned the faucets off and stepped out to dry myself off.

The first time had been a shock. I had given myself time to heal from the relationship, but about two months in I decided to head to a bar. Immediately something was off when I entered. I saw a few old flings, and a friend or two who were surprised to see me there. But it was like when I entered the whole place shifted towards me. Men were buying me drinks and fawning for my attention. The bartender even slipped a few comments in. They all looked smitten with me, trying to get just a little closer. By the end of the night I had some twink sitting in my lap. I decided it was time to blow off some steam. I took him to my place, where he immediately began tearing off my clothes inside the door. I managed to get him back to my bedroom before he had my boxers off. Immediately he buried his nose into my bush. Admittedly I hadn’t been keeping shaved since the breakup, and I guess that was doing it for him. He went to town on my cock. I wasn’t prepared for him to take it in one thrust, but he wasn’t waiting. All I could do was grab his hair and hold on as he worked my cock like a pro. I felt his hair curl beneath my fingers as I held on for the ride, moaning as he pushed all my buttons. He knew just when to pull back to keep me edging, his thick fingers holding on as he devoured my cock. Finally I knew I needed to fuck him. I pulled him off of my cock, but as he stood up and his dazed expression met mine I screamed.

“Fuck baby, where have you been all of my life?” he said.

He was the spitting image of my ex. The hair, the muscle, even that stupid nickname. In shock I pushed him away as he gave me a look of confusion.

“What are you doing here? I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

He looked back at me confused, “What are you talking about? We just met like a few hours ago. You invited me over. Sorry.”

Something about the statement rang true. I only realized later it was because he apologized. My ex would never. “Did he put you up to this? What’s your name?”

“Hey, I’m not sure who you’re talking about, okay? I’m Justin. I was just looking for a good time.”

“Have you seen yourself? You don’t look like the twink I met at the bar.” I retorted

He looked in the mirror, and his face seemed to puzzle for a sec. I knew that look. He was trying to reconcile memories he had. Fake memories. Then he smirked, “Yeah, pretty hot right? I’ve been working out, getting that more twunk look going.”

So he was clueless then. It was weird seeing someone look so much like him, and have a mix of his mannerisms and others. He had certainly made sure his cockiness was implemented. The asshole.

“Look, I’m not sure tonight is going to work out. I need you out of here. Now.” That was a little mean, it wasn’t his fault. But he had to go. I gave him some of my ex’s clothes he had left lying around and pushed him out the door without saying goodnight. It was only next week when I went to the bar that I saw him again. He had seemingly gone back to normal, besides a very distinctive mustache and stubble he was growing now. It didn’t fit his thin, hairless body and it made me chuckle…

*BZZZZZT*

My phone was getting a call from an unknown number. I guess it was time to answer some questions:

-Hey, I found this number in my bag. This the guy from last night?

*Sigh*

-Yeah, it’s me. Are you, uh, feeling better? More… yourself?

-So I’m not crazy! What was that? What happened?

-I am so so so sorry. It’s a long story. Let’s just say my ex is… a looot.

-Well hey, who’s isn’t?

I chuckled

-You’re taking this surprisingly well. Most guys don’t want to look at me after all this.

-So this has happened before?

-Yes. But I promise I didn’t mean to. I must have gotten too drunk last night, and I know that’s not a good excuse. But I’m not sure what to do about it and at this point I’d starting to think I never will

-Woah, woah. Calm down. Would you want someone to come over? To talk to?

I paused.

-No, I think I’ll be fine.

-Please, I want to. I want answers and it seems like you need someone.

-I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Plus, I don’t think I can see you like that.

-I promise. I don’t think I have anything the same.

-Promise?

-Here, look

He did look back to normal. And he was quite cute. I can see why drunk me decided to pick him…

-Still, I’m not sure…

-Nope, it’s decided. I know the address, I’ll be there later tonight around 6. *click*

What had just happened? I think, against all odds, I just got roped into a second date.

God damn it.

#transformation #male transformation #musk #fml #jockification #reality change #muscle tf #jock

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senditcolton · 8 months ago

Text

...but you're going to

You're not saying your in love with me... I'm not saying, "do it anyway"...

summary: when a freshly heartbroken Cassandra Moore proposes going on a tropical vacation to an equally disappointed Leon Draisaitl, all she expects out of the trip is healing and some quality time with her best friend. but she quickly learns that the universe love to throw punches when you least expect them. song inspo: BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish and Cool by Dua Lipa word count: 10.7k warnings: fighting and some sexual innuendowritten for @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange to @thewintersoldierdisaster with love ⛱️💛

When the oak door swings open, bringing Cassandra Moore face-to-face with star hockey player Leon Draisaitl, she can’t stop the smile that appears on her face. Even though her upturned lips are twinged with sadness – a sadness that is mirrored on Leon’s face.

“I brought consolation ice cream,” she says, holding up her canvas tote bag.

Leon doesn’t say anything, just leaves the door open for Cassandra to follow him into his house like she’s done a hundred times before.

“Why do our breakdowns always happen at the same time?” he questions.

“Maybe it’s the universe telling us that we’re meant for each other,” Cassandra jokes, waltzing into Leon’s kitchen and hopping up onto one of the bar stools lined against the counter. Her hands fish out the pint of ice cream while Leon reaches into one of the kitchen drawers before extending a spoon to her.

“I am sorry about the finals,” she says, her voice genuine. “Win or lose, we’re all really proud of you here in Edmonton.”

“Thanks Cassie. I would say sorry about your break-up but… I mean, I did tell you. He was an asshole.”

Cassandra just rolls her eyes, taking a heaping scoop of ice cream from the carton, shoveling it into her mouth before replying.

“You’ve said that about every guy I’ve dated,” she retorts. “Not sure if you’re the most impartial person here.”

“And yet, here you are in my kitchen, wallowing in pity and desserts… again,” Leon teases her back. “I’d say my judgement is pretty spot on.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassie waves him off, taking another bite before shrugging. “He was kind of a dick though.”

The soft snorting chuckle falls from Leon’s lips, the sound making a smile appear on Cassandra’s face. Her best friend looks up, his eyebrows raised in an inquisitive look as he appraises her – blonde hair pulled up in a bun and her classic loungewear of a tank and sweatpants hanging on her frame.

“What caused it this time?” he asks, the words gentle – a tone that Cassie appreciates. This was one of the many reasons why she liked being friends with Leon; he expertly toed the line between distracting her and letting her talk out her emotions. She just sighs, taking another spoonful of ice cream before responding.

“Didn’t feel like I was being appreciated. Thought I gave a lot of time and effort but never really got much in return.”

“You deserve better.”

“Don’t I know it,” Cassandra laughs, her eyes darting back up towards her best friend. “I could say the same about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You know you can’t lie to me.”

Leon’s eyes lift to connect with hers and Cassandra can feel a small pang in her chest at the sight of the pain that she saw lingering deep in his irises. She just keeps him underneath her gentle gaze before he sighs, his own spoon diving into the ice cream carton.

“I really thought it was our year,” he mumbles, his own eyes downcast.

Cassie doesn’t reply – she wouldn’t really know what to say anyway. She just allows the silence to linger over them for a moment, letting the only noise being the hum of Leon’s air conditioning. She takes in the two of them, leaning against the cool marble island and drowning their sorrows with sugar.

“We’ve got to be the saddest sacks in all of Alberta, right now,” Cassie says, finally breaking the silence with a sarcastic laugh. Leon returns her words with a grin and a raising of his spoon.

“Cheers to us,” he replies, that dry humor that she had come to love ringing out around the kitchen. She laughs, raising her own spoon in a salute before they both take another bite.

The comfortable silence falls, enveloping them both. Cassandra twirls her spoon between her fingers, her mind wandering, eyes dancing over the cabinets before landing on Leon again. She takes in his appearance; his disheveled hair, the far-away look in his eyes. Her gaze flits across his body, counting the bruises that still litter his skin before returning to his face.

The weight of her stare must have been heavy enough for Leon to notice, his blue eyes lifting to meet hers.

“What?”

The question falls from his lips, simple and easy to answer or wave off. Yet Cassie finds the words stuck in her throat. There was a purpose to her visit – beyond the consolation treats and easy friendship. She just wasn’t sure how to bring up the insane request that she had stowed in the back of her mind.

“Hello? Earth to Cass.”

Leon’s voice pulls her out of her head, that gentle smirk playing on his lips. A smirk that she matches.

“I was just thinking… do you know what we need?” she asks, deciding in that split second to dive headfirst into the wild proposal that she was about to make.

“What’s that?”

“A vacation.”

“That’d be nice,” Leon laughs, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice as his hand moves to take another spoonful of ice cream. “Did you have anything in mind?”

It is clear to Cassandra that he is ready to make a joke of this, laughing at the wild – but obviously fictional – adventures that would fall from her lips: skydiving, bungee jumping, parasailing. Each suggestion more ridiculous than the last. That’s how it usually went. That’s how this conversation was supposed to go. But when Leon looks up and sees the pink tinge smattered across her cheekbones, his smile drops.

“Cassie…” he says, elongating her name as a cautious warning.

“Okay, just hear me out.”

“I don’t even know what you’re about to say.”

“That’s why you need to hear me out,” she retorts and Leon know that he has no rebuttal and lets her continue. “So, like a month ago, Tristan and I signed up for this cool trip to the Bahamas. Like, all expenses paid tropical excursion with a guided boat tour that includes snorkeling and swimming with the pigs.”

“Pigs?”

“Yeah, wild pigs that you can swim with. Anyway, the tickets we bought included a plus-one, something we didn’t realize until we had already purchased them. And we didn’t feel like going through the hassle of trying to get a refund so we thought that we would invite Stella and Dylan, sort of a double date. But now… I mean, you know what happened. And long story short, I have a ticket to the Bahamas and I can bring someone along with me so I was wondering if you would like to come.”

Cassandra’s ranting finally ends, the long-winded explanation reaching its conclusion, the silence falling once again. She keeps her eyes locked onto Leon, trying to read every miniscule expression that crosses his face and prepare for whatever reaction may come.

“So, let me get this straight,” Leon begins, finally speaking. “You’re asking me to go on a tropical vacation with you? One that you were planning on going on with your boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Cassie retorts. She sees the exasperated look appear on Leon’s face and she knows exactly the thoughts that accompany that expression: that’s not the issue here. Cassandra just sighs, her chin falling into her open palm.

“Listen, I know it sounds crazy but I just… I just want something good to come out of those months I wasted with Tristan. Like, turning this trip that used to be for someone else into something for me. And, I just think it’d be nice to have a friend along for the ride.”

Cassandra lets Leon digest her words – both the proposal and her reasoning behind the invite. She simply looks on: watching as his gaze turns from her to stare into space, seeing his shoulders lift in a sigh, before his eyes turn back to her, a small grin playing at his lips.

“Sure, why not?”

“Wait. Really?”

“Cass, I’m accepting. Why are you questioning it?” Leon laughs, taking another bite of ice cream.

“Because it’s an insane idea and there’s no real reason for you to say yes to it?”

“And yet, here I am, saying yes,” he retorts. “You’re my best friend and I want to make you happy.”

The genuine tone that accompanies his words makes Cassie’s heart soften, a smile appearing on her face. A sigh whooshes through her, her entire posture relaxing into the kitchen chair.

“You really are great, you know that?” she says, grinning towards her best friend.

“I know,” Leon replies, his own body leaning back against the marble countertop. “Besides, I’d be stupid to pass up a free tropical vacation.”

His teasing words makes Cassie’s face twist into a playfully annoyed look, part of her tempted to throw a spoonful of ice cream at him to knock him down a peg. But that would be a shame. Not just because of the wasted ice cream but because that – that not so subtle cocky Leon – was her best friend coming back to being himself.

She wasn’t about to let him fade again.

~*~*~*~

If there was one thing that was true about any vacation it was this: the vacation itself was relaxing but the getting there was always stressful. Cassandra was not a fan of airports or planes or flying or anything of the sort. That was why she never moved from Edmonton, why her summers were spent at home or at her parent’s lake house – only a three-hour drive.

But throughout the trip from her home to her best friend’s house to the Edmonton airport to the Orlando airport to the Nassau airport to the hotel, she became even more thankful that she had Leon by her side. As a passenger of many flights, he kept her grounded even when they were thousands of feet in the air. He kept track of their bags – Cassie’s paranoia forcing him to check the airline tracker to make sure they were, in fact, on the plane with them – and guided her through the unfamiliar airport to their connecting flight. He even helped calm her down during the brief turbulence they experienced.

It wasn’t until they landed safely in the Bahamas and their taxi arrived at the hotel – with all their bags in tow – did Cassie truly relax, collapsing onto the hotel’s soft white sheets as soon as the door opened.

“Cassie.”

Leon’s voice cuts through the evening silence, a little sharper than Cassandra was used to but she immediately chalks his tone up to fatigue and stress from their busy travel day. She doesn’t even bother to respond, only uttering a small hum that was partially muffled by the sheets.

“Is there something you forgot to tell me?”

“Like what?” she mumbles, finally turning around from her starfish position to stare at Leon, standing at the foot of the bed.

“Like the fact that there is only one bed in this suite.”

It takes a minute for his words to sink in but when they finally register in Cassie’s brain, the shock of them feels like a splash of ice-cold water hitting her. Her body jolts upright, her blonde hair whipping around to see that he was indeed correct – the only bed to be found in their hotel room was the one that Cassie was currently sitting on.

“Oh, shit,” she mumbles, turning her sheepish gaze back to Leon. “Must’ve slipped my mind?”

Leon doesn’t give a verbal reply, just a sigh, punctuated by his arms crossing in front of him. An action that immediately makes Cassandra slip into the defensive.

“Well, I mean it makes sense,” she explains. “The voucher includes a plus one and it was advertised as a ‘romantic getaway’ so the assumption is that if you were buying a ticket, you were most likely sleeping together anyway.”

Her words bring a wry chuckle from Leon, one eyebrow raising in amusement. It takes a minute for Cassie to realize the connotation of her words, her eyes growing wide with embarrassment.

“I mean, sharing a bed,” Cassie says, the low lamplight doing nothing to hide the blush that floods her cheeks. Not that she ever saw Leon in that light… obviously.

“Well then, I guess for this trip we’re sleeping together,” Leon teases, although his quiet assertion – no matter how joking – making the flush on Cassie’s face deepen to an even redder scarlet. Her best friend just laughs, plopping down next to her on the mattress.

“You know you’re really cute when you blush.”

“Shut up Leon,” she mutters, jostling him with her shoulder, trying to diffuse the weird but most likely imagined tension between them.

“No, I mean it,” he continues to joke. “Maybe I’ll hide your sunscreen so your cheeks can stay pink.”

“If you hide my sunscreen, I will murder you.”

“On our romantic getaway? Not very loving of you.”

“Leon, I swear if you don’t stop talking, I will accidentally kick you on purpose the entire night,” Cassandra chirps, the harshness of her words diffused by the giggle that seeps through.

“Then I will loudly snore throughout the night so neither of us get any sleep,” he quips right back at her. His light-hearted teasing lessens the surprise of sharing a bed with her best friend, something that Cassie appreciates as she laughs, lifting herself off the mattress.

“So, we’re just planning on ruining this vacation for each other?” she jokes, rummaging through her suitcase for her pajamas and toiletries.

“Looks like it.”

“Then why did I even invite you?”

Leon’s only reply is a shrug as he kicks off his shoes and tosses his legs up onto the bed, his body leaning back against the headboard, his arms resting behind his head. Cassandra gives one last laugh before disappearing into the bathroom to go through her nighttime routine, silently grateful for how comfortable he is with the whole situation, glad he didn’t make a fuss over their newfound sleeping arrangements.

By the time she gets back, Leon is already in his loungewear, relaxing beneath the sheets with his phone in his hand. Cassie tries to remain as casual as he seems to be as she climbs into the other side of the bed, getting comfortable before reaching over and turning off the bedside lamp. Leon soon follows her actions, placing his phone down and clicking the switch, plunging the room into darkness.

“Night Cassie.”

“Goodnight,” she replies, nestling herself deeper into the covers. She is about to close her eyes and drift off when a thought dawns on her. Cassie turns towards Leon, her voice calling out.

“Hey, Leon.”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t actually snore, do you?”

The first sound that hits her eardrums is Leon’s soft chuckle, her heart softening at the noise before his mischievous reply comes.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

~*~*~*~

The tropical sunlight filters through the windows, hitting Cassandra’s eyes and forcing them to open. However, they quickly shut again because of the blinding light, her body nestling into the sheets to try and block out the sun. Only when she could tell from behind her eyelids that she was in a shaded spot did her eyes flutter open. And she came face to face with a sleeping Leon.

The heart that she thought was still in the process of healing did a strange little skip in her chest at the sight of her best friend – how his brown hair looked even brighter in the morning light, how the crease that seemed to have a permanent place between his eyebrows had disappeared, and how peaceful he looked.

It was refreshing to see him so at ease, something she only saw in fleeting moments – moments that got even rarer when hockey season started up. Maybe it was a good thing that she invited him. Perhaps this trip could be as restorative for him as it was for her.

The sharp blare of a phone alarm rings out, breaking through the silence and causing Leon to stir, a soft moan leaving him. Cassie’s eyes snap shut immediately, although her brain chides her at the ridiculousness of her actions. It was Leon – he may have relentlessly teased her if he woke up with her eyes glued to him but he wasn’t going to make it weird. But still, Cassandra keeps her eyes closed until the alarm was quieted and Leon’s warm palm was gently pressing against her shoulder.

“Cass, wake up,” he says, his voice raspy from hours of disuse. She makes a show of groaning and turning before she lets herself ‘awake’, her body lifting in a stretch.

“What time is it?”

“9 am. So, it still feels like 7am our time.”

“Ugh, why are we up so early?”

“I have no clue, Cassie. You’re the one that set the alarm,” Leon laughs, tossing the blanket off of his body and inadvertently – or perhaps entirely on purpose – throwing it over Cassie’s head. She lets out a playful huff as she uncovers herself, her blonde hair sticking up in an even worse bedhead than before. Leon just smiles at her from his crouched position on the floor, his hands unzipping his suitcase.

“Oh!” she says, the realization dawning on her, infecting her voice with joy, and giving her a zip of energy to jump out of bed and run towards her own suitcase. “The boat tour is today!”

“The day after we arrive?”

“That was the original plan,” Cassie explains, grabbing her swimsuit and clothes. “Tristan and I thought it would be better to do the most agenda heavy event first then we could spend the next five days relaxing and doing whatever.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Leon sighs, the morning weariness still evident in his body.

“Don’t forget your swimsuit!” Cassie cheers, almost oblivious to Leon’s exhaustion, her own excitement moving through her like a shot of espresso as she flies into the bathroom. The click of the deadbolt covers Leon’s amused chuckle, her energy giving him a much-needed boost as well.

After shimmying into her bikini, throwing her loose white sundress over top, and clipping her hair up with her blue flower claw-clip, she walks out of the bathroom, finding Leon dressed and lounging in one of the armchairs.

“Ready to go?” she asks, throwing a few items into her round rattan purse before she slips on her sandals, fully turning to Leon. He lifts himself up, placing his phone into his back pocket.

“Ready whenever you are.”

Cassie just shoots him a bright smile, leading him out of the hotel room. The two of them depart, Cassandra’s preparation giving them enough time to walk down to the Margaritaville restaurant for their pickup instead of having to hail a cab. There isn’t a large number of sights to take in, most of Paradise Island taken up by the sprawling resort, but it is nice to relax. To take a moment and fully awaken before their planned adventures. They soon spy the restaurant with a small crowd of people standing outside, and they eventually make their way up, taking their place among the group.

“Hey, I’m going to see if the restaurant has any coffee. Do you want one?” Leon asks.

“That’d be great, thank you. Cream and sugar please,” she replies. Leon shoots her a wink, an action that Cassie responds to with a small smack on his bicep before he disappears through the doors, leaving Cassandra alone among the crowd. She makes polite small talk with the people around her, staring out towards the crystal blue of the ocean, a sigh escaping her chest.

This was going to be a great week – she was determined to make it so.

The light screech of a car’s breaks startles Cassie out of her reverie, her eyes turning towards the noise before landing on the taxi cab that just arrived. She watches as beautiful brunette steps out, looking like the epitome of an Instagram model, the sunglasses perched on her nose only highlighting the sharpness of her jaw and lift of her cheekbones. Cassie just watches in awe, wondering who this person was when she spies the brunette’s companion step out from the other side.

And the sight makes her heart drop.

No. He wasn’t supposed to be here. This was her trip, her idea, something he only expressed a fleeting interest in. Which is why she never in a million years expected him to show up after things ended between them.

But there was Tristan, walking around the cab and taking the arm of the stunning brunette in his.

“Here you go.”

The gentle press of someone’s knuckles against her bicep startles Cassie, her body jumping and spinning, her eyes now connecting to a very confused Leon.

“What? What is it?” he asks, immediately clocking the distraught emotions so clearly painted on her face. Cassie watches as his eyes flick around, looking for the source of his best friend’s distress. It isn’t until his gaze lands on Tristan, clearly recognizing him from the few nights he tagged along with Cass to post-game celebrations, does his expression harden, a quiet curse falling from his lips.

“He’s not supposed to be here,” she says, voicing her racing thoughts, the anxiety in her words forcing Leon’s eyes to return to her. “I – I didn’t think he’d come. And who the fuck is that girl? What the hell is happening?”

The words are coming faster than Cassandra can control them, her breathing becoming staccato, any previous joy zapped from her. It is the gentle touch of fingers against her own, her eyes jumping down to see Leon’s hand wrapping around hers, that grounds her.

“Hey,” Leon says gently, “look at me.” The quiet demand immediately makes her obey, her blue eyes meeting his steely grey ones. “Breathe.” Cassandra copies the rise of his chest, her breath slowing as he keeps his gaze locked to her. “It’s going to be okay.”

“How? This trip was supposed to be a way to get over my ex-boyfriend. Hard to do that when he’s less than three feet away.”

“I know. But are you going to let him ruin more of your life than he already has?”

The quiet determination in his voice makes her pause, her head tilting slightly. He was right, like he usually was. Tristan had already ruined six months of her year; she wasn’t about to let him ruin another six days.

“You’re right,” she sighs, her hand dropping from Leon’s. She shakes her body, trying to release any lingering anxiety from her muscles before picking up one of the disposable coffee cups Leon had set on a nearby bench. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he laughs, mirroring her movements. “Now calm down and drink your coffee.”

“Aye, aye Captain,” she quips back at him with a giggle. However, she can’t stop her eyes from wandering back towards where Tristan stood and silently curses when her gaze locks with his. His face is unreadable, his own eyes bouncing between her and Leon.

Perhaps it was petty, impulsive even, but Cassandra didn’t give herself enough time to talk herself out of it. Instead, she just let herself reach out to grasp Leon’s hand in hers again.

It is obvious that Tristan notices the action and she can see his nose subtly upturn at the sight. His reaction makes a small thrill run through her before her eyes tear from her ex to her current companion, looking down at her with a question in his eyes. All Cassandra does is mutter a small thank you before leaning her head against Leon’s shoulder. She doesn’t catch the small smile that tugs at her best friend’s lips, can’t hear his quickened heartbeat, but she does feel the small kiss that he presses into the crown of her head, his only reply a muffled ‘of course’.

It only takes a few minutes longer – minutes that Cassie spends trying not to focus on Tristain and his… travel companion – before the boat turns up, a few other guests already onboard. Leon is a complete gentleman, hopping on the boat first before extending a hand to Cassandra to help her climb aboard. The two of them settle down on one of the bench seats as the boat takes off, gliding over the pristine waters towards the first stop on the itinerary; an itinerary that Cassie doesn’t realize Leon didn’t know until his elbow is nudging hers.

“So, what’s all included in this excursion? Besides the pigs, of course.”

“Oh, yeah,” Cassie laughs, shaking her head at her own lapse. “First, we’re going to Atoll Island where we can snorkel for a good amount of time. Then we’ll pass through Green Cay – we aren’t getting in the water there but you can apparently see a whole bunch of marine life from the boat. And finally, Rose Island. That’s where the piggies are. Plus, there’ll be a bunch other things to do like beach games, drinks, etcetera. And then it’s just back to the resort.”

“Sounds good,” Leon replies, leaning back in the seat.

“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you all of this. I should’ve since it’s technically your vacation now too.”

“Cass, I’m just here to support you. You can drag me along wherever and I’ll be happy.”

“You seem very chill about all of this,” Cassie laughs, shaking her head at her best friend’s laissez affair attitude. “What happened to the super serious intense hockey player that I know?”

“He thankfully disappears when faced with a tropical vacation.”

“Shame. I really liked him,” Cassie muses, taking a sip out of her water bottle, watching Leon from the corner of her eye. She sees his eyebrows raise, a bemused smirk appearing on his face. “But,” she continues with a playful sigh, “I suppose I could come to like this version of Leon Draisaitl.”

“You’re one of the only people who gets to see him,” Leon says, his voice soft but heavy with the weight of a genuine confession – a seriousness that Cassandra notices. She doesn’t hesitate to reach for his hand again, intertwining her fingers in his.

The boat continues its path across the ocean, bouncing gently over the soft waves before it slows to a stop about 300 feet off the coast of Atoll Island; or at least that’s what Cassie was told. After giving a brief run-down of snorkeling safety and the wildlife they might see, their guide hands out gear to each of the guests, telling them to enjoy their time in the ocean. Cassie excitedly hops up, spinning to direct her beaming smile towards Leon who grins back at her.

“Ready?” she asks him.

“As I’ll ever be,” comes his easy reply.

Leon lifts himself off the bench seat, kicking off his flip-flops. He removes his baseball cap to easily pull his t-shirt over his head, leaving him in his board shorts. And although Leon is just her friend and she has seen him shirtless before, it’s difficult to not let her eyes rove over his newly exposed chest and the cut of his muscles. It feels warranted though: Leon was a professional athlete – of course his body was fantastic. Plus, it was easy to forget how well-built he was when his body was often hidden underneath layers of hockey gear. So, Cassie doesn’t fight it and just lets her eyes rake over Leon.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” he chirps, the quip startling her out of her ogling. The blush rises to her cheeks when she sees the knowing look in Leon’s eyes, his gaze teasing before it bounces down to her long white sundress, one brow raised in a playful challenge.

Cassie doesn’t bother giving a verbal reply – granted she doesn’t think she could without embarrassing herself further. Instead, she just rolls her eyes as she removes her purse from her shoulder, setting it down on the chair. She kicks off her sandals, pushing them underneath the seat before her hands reach up to the bows resting on her shoulders.

She doesn’t mean to make the action hold any more weight than it should, intending for it to just be a playful moment with her best friend. But when her eyes meet Leon’s as her fingers unravel the ties on her dress, the fabric falling from her frame and exposing her bikini-clad body, she can’t help but notice the skip of her heart as she watches Leon’s gaze rake down her silhouette.

“Is,” Leon says, his voice faltering slightly. He clears his throat before resuming his question. “Is that new?”

“The swimsuit? Yeah, I bought it special for the trip,” Cassie replies, forcing her voice to remain casual to shrug off the tension that had once again risen between them.

“For the trip? So, for… you know who?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Cassandra sighs, her eyes rolling before they turn to survey the deck and land on Tristan. He isn’t looking in her direction, too caught up in putting his snorkeling gear on. Cassie’s eyes return to Leon, a devious smirk on her lips. “But now, it’s for me.”

“His loss,” Leon says, the words falling from his lips with a speed that somewhat startles Cassie. “You look great.”

His words bring the blush back to Cassie’s cheeks in full force, her head ducking down with a newfound bashfulness.

“Thanks,” she mutters, reaching for her goggles, taking them in her hand before returning her eyes to Leon’s. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Leon just laughs before placing his own goggle over his eyes. Cassandra follows his actions and takes his hand as they both walk towards the swim platform. One last adjustment of their gear and a grin are shared before they both jump into the aquamarine water.

It is easy for Cassandra to let all troubling thoughts disappear as she swims through the ocean, her eyes taking in the fish fliting around the coral reefs, pointing out starfish and sea urchins to Leon, the smile on her face clear even around the snorkel pressed against her mouth. Occasionally, Leon drifts away from her – to explore the ocean on his own, Cassie assumes. However, that assumption is proved partially incorrect when she turns her face towards him to point out the sea turtle swimming by and sees him aiming his phone in her direction, snapping a picture. The smile appears on her face again as she playfully throwing up a pair of peace signs and posing for him.

They spend almost all their allotted time in the sea, taking in the sights before they are called back onto the boat. Leon once again helps pull her aboard and even wraps the complimentary towel around her frame before grabbing one of his own. The two of them return to their seats, handing back the snorkeling gear to their guide.

“Thank you for taking pictures,” Cassandra says as she rings out her hair. “Out of everything I planned, I somehow forgot to include a waterproof phone case.”

“I figured you’d want some proof of this whole trip – something to look back on.”

“You’re right.”

“Like always,” Leon tacks on to her statement, making her laugh at his cocky confidence.

“Well, I don’t know if I would say that,” she teases, knocking her shoulder against his. “Will you send those pics to me?”

“I will. But maybe later. Let’s just enjoy the rest of today.”

Cassie nods in agreement, looking back over the horizon. Eventually, the guide announces their arrival in Green Cay, telling the guests to be on the lookout for some wildlife including sharks and sea turtles. Cassie and Leon stare into the blue waters, each of them pointing out the creatures that they did see swim by, arms pressed against each other on the railing. The boat cruises through the bay and in the distance, Cassandra can see an island growing larger as they approach. Her excitement raises higher, knowing that they were almost to Rose Island and to the swimming pigs – the part of the entire trip that she was most excited for.

The boat finally docks on the shore, the guests filing off and walking across the white sand beach. Cassie’s hands wrap around Leon’s bicep, her whole body bouncing when she sees the animals walking in the tide. Leon just smiles down at her, her own joy infectious. Their tour guide once again gives a quick explanation before handing each of them food for the pigs and leaving them to enjoy their time.

“Here, Cass,” Leon says, handing her is portion of food.

“You don’t want to come?” she asks, her blue eyes wide as she looks up to him.

“I’ll hang around but… I’m just not sure about the whole thing.”

Cassie can see the hesitation on his face, understanding the uncertainty. She doesn’t push him, instead letting him stand on the shoreline as she wades out into the water.

She stops when the water reaches her mid-thighs, turning to face the beach, her eyes connecting with Leon still standing on the sand. Cassie sends him a quick wave, one which he returns before her eyes drop down to see the pink, brown, and black mottled bodies of the pigs swimming out towards her. The smile on her face grows impossibly wider as she holds out her hand, letting the snout of the first pig that arrives nuzzle against the skin, munching on the food she offered. The animals swim around her, their snorts and squeals filling the air, making her laugh.

The food quickly vanishes from her hand, only a small amount remaining as her eyes lift to lock with Leon’s frame again. He is chatting with another guest but he must feel the weight of her stare because his gaze returns to hers. She smiles at him before her hand extends, beckoning him towards her. Cassie can see him hesitate again but there must be something in her smile or her ease that makes him push through any lingering fear as he wades out to meet her.

Cassandra doesn’t say anything, even once he reaches her. She just grabs his hand, gently pouring the remaining pig feed into his palm. She keeps his wrist in her grip, guiding his hand down towards the water. With her silent instruction, he holds his hand out towards the closest pig, letting the animal take the food from him. A small laugh falls from Leon as the pig eats from his hand, Cassie reaching out to pet the animal, the damp coarse hair gliding under her palm. Leon matches her movements, petting the pig himself as his face turns towards her, a smile on his lips.

“There’s a place where you can hold a piglet as well, if you want to,” she explains to him, the joyful lilt of her voice clear.

“Well then,” Leon replies, his tone mirroring hers. “What are we waiting for?”

They both eagerly wade back to the beach, occasionally stopping to pet some of the other pigs that swam by, before exiting the water and making their way towards the piglets. Cassandra’s heart immediately softens when she sees the tiny creature, before her heart soars as the animals is placed in her arms. She coos, the immediate baby-talk falling from her mouth as she holds the piglet, her fingers brushing over its softer skin. Cassie lifts her head up towards Leon only to see him lower his phone, surely taking another photo. There is no faking the smile on her face as Leon snaps the pic, his own grin obvious from behind the phone screen.

There is now no hesitance from Leon when Cassandra gently offers the piglet to him, his hands eagerly reaching out to take the animal from her. If Cassie thought her heart was soaring when the piglet was in her arms, it was doing somersaults when she saw the baby in Leon’s hands, looking even tinier against his body. It takes a few minutes for Cassie to snap out of her reverie before walking to him with a smile on her face. She reaches out towards Leon’s board shorts, her fingers touching the material causing Leon to startle.

“Your phone. For pictures. You deserve some too, you know?” she explains, a soft laugh on her lips as she glances towards the piglet softly snorting in his arms. “Besides, you have your hands full.”

Leon chuckles in resignation, knowing that there is no argument against her logic. Instead, he just turns his hip closer to her, allowing Cassie to slip her hand into his pocket to fish out his phone. She clicks the small camera icon before stepping back and snapping a few pictures.

They return the piglet to its home before they walk back towards the beach bar where most of the other guests linger. After sanitizing their hands and grabbing a few drinks, they find a vacant pair of lounge chairs and sit down. Leon takes out his phone and opens his camera roll, Cassie leaning over as Leon swipes through the pictures, every one almost perfectly framed despite being almost entirely candid.

“You know, you would be a really good Instagram boyfriend one day,” she teases as he continues to scroll through the album.

“How’d you guess my retirement plan?” he laughs, a grin shot in her direction. She giggles with him before taking a sip of her cocktail, resting back against the lounge chair, her eyes looking out over the ocean.

“Hey, Leon? You coming?”

Cassie turns to the sound of the voice addressing her best friend to see the guest that Leon was talking to earlier standing nearby, a volleyball under his arm.

“Be right there,” Leon replies, the man walking away before Leon turns to Cassandra. “He invited me to be a part of their team in beach volleyball,” he explains with a shrug.

“Should’ve known that the athlete couldn’t be taken out of you entirely,” she chirps before playfully shooing him away with a wave of her hand. He shoots her a small departing smile as he gets up and jogs over towards the court. Cassie returns to her relaxed position, letting the sun warm her skin as she breathes in the salt air.

“Is this seat taken?” a feminine voice asks.

Cassandra opens her eyes and it takes everything in her power not to startle when she sees the brunette – the one that was accompanying Tristan – standing in front of her. Thankfully, her shock isn’t noticed by the girl, allowing Cassie to compose herself before gesturing to the vacant chair next to her.

“It’s all yours. Leon is currently playing volleyball so he won’t be using it anytime soon,” she explains, her light-hearted tease causing the brunette to laugh as well as she sits down.

“Boys. Always finding a way to show-off, right?” the woman teases. “I’m Chloe, by the way.”

“Cassandra.”

Cassie’s eyes stay glued onto Chloe’s face, waiting for a reaction to the name, waiting for an acknowledgement of who she is and who she used to be to Tristan. But there is none, just a compliment on her ‘cool’ name as Chloe lounges back on the chair. Cassie lets herself relax, even though Chloe’s reaction – or lack thereof – leaves her mind reeling. It is a moment of silence before Cassie speaks again.

“I think I saw you arrive outside of the restaurant before we left. Quite an entrance.”

“Oh my god,” Chloe laughs, turning her body towards Cassandra. “I will let you know that it was 100% not part of the plan. Nor what I usually like to do. But my boyfriend, Tristan, completely spaced on what was on today’s agenda so when we did figure it out, we had to speed to the restaurant or we would’ve missed this whole excursion.”

“Jeez,” Cassie says. “Good thing you made it.”

“Good thing I asked Tristan,” Chloe teases. “I swear. This man surprised me with these tickets to celebrate our six-month anniversary but it honestly seems like he has no idea what he himself planned out.”

If they were anywhere else and if Chloe had been one of Cassandra’s close friends, she knows they would share a laugh over the idiocy of her ex-boyfriend, lamenting over his disorganization and ineptitude. But now, the only words that caught Cassie’s attention were ‘six-month anniversary.’

Tristan and her broke up a month ago. The latest that he could’ve ‘surprised’ Chloe with the tickets was at least a week before today. But no matter what the minute details were, the math all pointed towards one thing: Tristan had been cheating on her. For months.

“Well, men are hopeless,” Cassie replies, trying not to let the anger bubbling within her seep into her words.

“Tell me about it,” Chloe laughs. “But you look like you managed to snag a pretty good one. I saw him standing on the beach, taking pictures of you with the pigs. How long have the two of you been dating?”

“Me and Leon?” Cassie asks, both Chloe’s praise and assumption about their relationship catching her off-guard. Chloe simply nods, her brown eyes bright and eager. Her excitement makes that petty part of Cassie trill again and even though she knows that she shouldn’t, she decides not to correct Chloe. “We’ve known each other for years now. One of my friends was – well, still is – dating one of his friends. That’s how we met. And the rest, like they say, is history.”

“Oh, that’s so cute. I just met Tristan through a dating app. Very romantic, I know.”

“Hey, whatever works right?” Cassie replies, every additional information Chloe innocently shares acting like a dagger piercing her deeper.

It was a blessing in disguise when Cassandra sees Leon jogging up towards her, thankful for the interruption before her façade cracked. Chloe follows her eyeline, noticing Leon as well and she excuses herself, walking back towards the beach bar. Leon glances in the direction of Chloe’s departure before turning back to Cassie with a questioning look on his face.

“Tristan’s?”

“Her name is Chloe,” Cassie chides. “She actually seems pretty nice. But Tristan is a bigger piece of shit than I ever could’ve imagined,” she continues on, her words growing angrier with every passing syllable. She notices Leon’s eyes widening at her fury and sits down in the chair next to her, his body leaning towards her, a silent invitation for her to continue.

“He met her on a dating app… while he was still with me. This trip was a surprise for Chloe to celebrate their six-month anniversary.”

The silence falls between them, Leon doing the math as easily as she did only moments ago and Cassie sees that scowl appear on his face. She doesn’t say anything else, not even sure if there was anything left to say, instead letting a sigh woosh out of her as she collapses back onto the lounge chair, turning her attention back to the waves.

“Do you want me to kick his ass for you?”

Cassandra’s head whips towards him, her look of resignation transforming to one of shock at her best friend’s words. Leon’s face remains impassive, his words still hanging between them.

“What?”

“Do you want me to kick his ass?” Leon asks, pausing to let a small grin appear on his face before he continues. “In beach volleyball, I mean. I think his team is playing against mine next.”

There is no stopping the cackle of laughter that falls from Cassandra at Leon’s statement, her head shaking at her friend’s joke. Leon’s own grin widens, happy to hear her laugh again. Cassie looks back at him, her blue eyes soft.

“Would you?”

“Anything for you,” he replies, lifting himself off his chair before holding out his hand. “Want to come cheer me on?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cassandra says, grabbing Leon’s hand and letting him pull her towards the court.

It’s hard not to notice Tristan’s eyes locked on her and Leon as they arrive, but Cassie finds that she doesn’t care. He didn’t have the right to be angry; this was her trip and now, she was absolutely not about to let her cheating scumbag of an ex ruin it. She wishes Leon a quick good luck before she finds a vacant chair. She ends up sitting next to a group of other guests and attempts to engage in small talk. However, it’s almost impossible to keep her focus when Leon is playing.

Once again, her brain chides her at being so awe-struck by her best friend. Cassandra knew he was attractive – hell, she couldn’t recall a night she went out with the team where he hadn’t been hit on. But now, for some reason, the revelation was hitting Cassie like a ton of bricks. Leon Draisaitl was hot: the way the golden sun bounced off his skin, the sharp lines of his muscles, how his body moved with the precise athleticism that he had perfected through years of training, the sound of his laughter floating in the ocean breeze.

The sound of cheering and applause snaps Cassie back to the present moment, her eyes refocusing on Leon and the three guys he was playing with coming together in a group celebration. And Cassie realizes that Leon did exactly what he promised he would: he beat the crap out of her ex at beach volleyball.

She cheers with the rest of the guests, watching as Leon’s team moves to shake hands with the others. It is good-hearted until Leon meets Tristan in the center. Cassie watches as Tristan looks towards her and then back to Leon before rebuffing Leon’s outstretched hand, sportsmanship apparently meaning little to him. Leon just shrugs, looking towards her with an incredulous look on his face, an expression that screams ‘can you believe that?’ before he jogs back over to Cassie.

Her next actions are entirely impulsive as she practically leaps onto him, engulfing him in a potentially overzealous hug. But if Leon was surprised, he doesn’t show it, wrapping his arms around her and even spinning her a few times, their laughter combining before setting her back down onto the white sand.

“You won!” she cheers.

“I told you I would.”

The rest of the afternoon is filled with more downed cocktails, more games played, and more conversations had before their guide is calling them back to the boat. Cassie and Leon find their seats, sitting down as they begin their journey back to their resort. The sun is low in the sky, painting the clouds in a beautiful array of oranges and pinks. Cassie leans against Leon, staring out towards the horizon, a contented sigh running through her. It’s instinctive how Leon wraps his arms around her, pulling her tighter against his chest, holding her close.

“Thank you,” Cassie says, her voice gentle. She looks back towards him, a blissful smile on her face. “For everything. Coming with me, being so chill about everything, making me laugh. Everything.”

“Of course,” he replies, glancing down at her with a matching smile on his lips. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

The statement should’ve been an innocuous one. After all, it had been shared between them many times before this, a way of affirming their friendship and loyalty to each other. But Cassie is surprised to notice how much it stings, the pain momentarily passing through her before she shakes it off.

It was ridiculous reaction. Besides, that’s what she and Leon were: friends.

Nothing more.

~*~*~*~

If anyone were to ask Cassandra to describe her vacation in one word, the adjective she would’ve chosen might have surprised some people. They most likely would’ve expected a word like exciting or fantastic or even something as simple as fun. But instead of any of those, she would’ve said it was… confusing.

In some ways, her word choice might’ve seemed reasonable. A tropical getaway to physically and emotionally get away from your ex-boyfriend only to have that same ex show up and learn that he mistreated you even more than you had previously imagined? That would send anyone’s emotions into a tizzy. But Tristan wasn’t the person that had been taking up residence in Cassie’s mind, turning everything that she thought she knew upside down.

No, that distinction belonged to Leon.

Leon, her best friend. Leon, who willingly agreed to join her on this trip. Leon, who tagged along with her no matter what she wanted to do: explore the island, go on shopping trips, lounge on the beach, anything. Leon, who made her laughter come with an ease that Cassie thought would take months to get back. Leon.

The man who was currently leaning against the wooden beachfront bar a few feet away from her, casually chatting to the bartender, the half-drunk bottle of Corona still in his hand. He looked so at ease, with his partially unbuttoned white shirt, khaki shorts, and slides – the very epitome of someone who spent their life just chilling by the sand. How different he was here with her than he was back in Canada. How relaxed he seemed. Part of her wished this trip would never end, that they could stay here next to the sea and in the salt air.

But that couldn’t happen. Tomorrow was their last day and then they would be back on plane and back to their normal lives. It might be for the best. Maybe the feelings that had taken root in Cassie would die once they landed back in Canada, away from the fantasy of summer.

Although that very thought causes a pang of sadness to thrum through her.

She just sighs, directing her attention back to her phone, scrolling through the endless pictures Leon had taken for her, trying to pick her favorites and make them into a collage that accurately captured the perfect – albeit, fleeting – joy of this vacation.

She hears the chair across from her shift through the sand, a body settling down into the seat and she expects another quip about her ridiculous choice of cocktails to fall from Leon’s lips. But instead of her best friend’s voice, she hears a different voice; one that she had known for six months and one that she had been trying to erase from her mind.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Cassandra’s head jolts up, her eyes landing on Tristan’s frame now sitting across from her.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he continues, his arms crossing over his chest as he stares her down. Cassie’s shocked expression quickly morphs to one of anger, a scoff falling from her lips.

“Didn’t think I would come to the vacation that I planned just because you wouldn’t be with me? So sorry to disappoint,” she quips, her eyes rolling at her ex’s audacity. Her words don’t make him depart, something she was hoping he would do when he realized she wasn’t heartbroken over him. But he doesn’t budge, his eyes staying glued to her. “What do you want Tristan?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you bothering me?” she asks, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be lying to another girl you met on a dating app?”

“Jealous?” Tristan quips, that infuriating fuckboy smirk appearing on his lips.

“Of you being someone else’s problem? Not in the slightest. I do feel sorry for Chloe though; she seems really sweet. Shame that she has no idea she’s dating a cheating asshole.”

“Oh, please, like you’re one to talk,” Tristan spits, his tone morphing from cocky to contempt. “You’re no better than I am.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. Chloe told me everything. You and Leon.”

It takes a minute for his words – so full of hate and vitriol – to fully register with Cassie. He actually believed that she had been cheating on him?

“You’re an idiot,” Cassie scoffs. The statement, however true, was not the strongest rebuttal against Tristan’s assumption. But that was because she quickly realized any truthful defense she would make would seem like an outright lie. She all but told Chloe that her and Leon had been together for years. However, she didn’t expect that white lie to come back to bite her this dramatically.

“Sure,” Tristan jeers. “You think I never noticed how obsessed the two of you were with each other? And you’ve only been more all over each other the past few days. Probably because you don’t need to lie to me anymore. I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. I always thought you were fucking him behind my back. Turns out I was right.”

“No, you’re just a bigger dumbass than I thought you were.”

“Oh, will stop being such a stuck-up bitch Cassandra,” Tristan snaps, his hand coming down to smack against the wooden table, his voice raising. “You act like you’re so much better than everyone but in reality, you’re just a two-faced slut.”

“You are fucking insane, Tristan,” Cassie says, the tension between them rendering her somewhat speechless, capable of only repeating insults. Unfortunately, her lack of denial just seems to make Tristan feel justified enough to continue.

“Not just a slut, a puck bunny even. Can’t imagine what Leon will do the minute he realizes that you’re just using him for his fame and money. He’d probably drop you faster than I did and move on to the next blonde he finds. Trust me Cassie, there are plenty of girls out there looking to take your place. You’re nothing special, just another bitch looking for her five-seconds of fame.”

The moments that follow seem to happen in slow motion.

A hand appears on Tristan’s shoulder. Tristan turns to look at whoever it was touching him. Then, a closed fist making contact with the side of Tristan’s jaw. The force of the hit knocks Tristan flat out of the seat, his body crashing into the sand below. It is only then that Cassandra registers that the fist belonged to Leon, who was now standing over Tristan, looking every level of pissed off.

“What the fuck dude!!?” Tristan yells, jumping to his feet, his hand rubbing against his jaw.

“Don’t you dare talk about Cassie like that,” Leon says, the tone of his voice colder than Edmonton winters.

“Or what?” Tristan spits, stepping forward into Leon’s space, his own hands curling into fists.

The absolute disbelief at the entire situation forces Cassandra to stay frozen in her seat, unable to move or even fully comprehend what this evening had devolved into. In another move that only further highlighted her ex’s stupidity, Tristan’s own fist comes up to connect with Leon’s face. That action seemed to be the catalyst that caused both of their simmering angers to boil over. Fists start flying, hands twisting into shirts, wild haymakers being thrown, some connecting with skin, some only hitting air. Cassie’s eyes try to track the damage, the only odd thought coming to her brain being a small relief that they were outside and far away from the main resort.

Somehow – or not surprisingly, considering his career – Leon manages to throw Tristan down, the impact of her ex’s body sending up a spray of sand. Tristan scrambles up from the ground, taking a few steps back.

“You’re fucking insane! Both of you!!” he yells, before retreating back to the resort.

It is only after Tristan’s angry cursing fades does Cassie look around, the curious eyes of some of the other guest directed towards them. Leon is still standing on the beach, his shoulders tight and his breathing heavy. Cassandra finally peels herself from her seat, walking over to her best friend and placing a gentle hand on his bicep.

“Leon,” she whispers. Her gentle voice pulls Leon’s gaze towards her and she feels a sharp pang when she sees the small cut on his brow. Her eyes travel down to the torn skin over his knuckles, his hands still clenched. “Let’s – let’s go back to the hotel room. Get you cleaned up.”

“What about your drink?” Leon asks breathlessly.

Cassie’s eyebrows furrow before her head turns to see another Corona bottle and her brightly colored cocktail with one too many umbrellas sitting at a different table nearby. The remembrance of why Leon wasn’t at the table earlier hits her as she realizes he must have placed the drinks down before… all this happened.

“Leon,” she says, her voice coming out in a slight breathless laugh. “The last thing I’m worried about is our drinks.”

It must’ve been something in her tone, in her laughter that makes Leon visibly relax. He allows Cassie to take his hand – avoiding contact with his wounds – and guide him through the resort. By pure luck or pure coincidence, they are not stopped as they walk into the building, through the lobby, into the elevator, and down the hallway. They make it all the way back to the hotel room, Cassie pushing Leon into the bathroom and making him sit on the closed toilet lid.

They both seem to be in a fugue state, Leon just staring into space while Cassandra absentmindedly rummages through the cabinets under the sink, grabbing her miniature first aid kit. She opens it and grabs a small antiseptic wipe. It isn’t until she steps between Leon’s thighs do his grey eyes finally connect to her.

There aren’t any words spoken between them; Cassie just takes his hand and gently wipes away the sand and blood from his knuckles, gently shushing him when he winces.

“You know,” Cassie muses, finally breaking the silence that was lingering between them, “when I agreed to have you beat up my ex, this isn’t exactly what I meant.”

A slight chuckle falls from Leon, followed shortly by another wince as she brushes the wipe over his wounds. Without moving from the space between his legs, Cassie tosses the cloth into the nearby trashcan before grabbing some bandages from the kit and gently wrapping them around his knuckles.

“I didn’t like how he was talking about you,” Leon explains, his eyes turning away from her, staring into space again as if he was replaying Tristan’s insults in his mind.

“He’s an asshole. You tried to warn me. Guess you were even more right than I ever thought.”

“I’m not going to tell you I told you so,” Leon teases, redirecting his gaze towards her.

“You better not, considering I’m the one patching you up,” Cassie playfully threatens.

After bandaging both hands, she lowers them onto his thighs before grabbing another antiseptic wipe, turning her focus onto the cut above his eyebrow. Her hand finds its place underneath his chin – a gentle hold to keep him from flinching away. It works well enough, although Leon still grimaces in response to her ministrations.

“I can now see why you don’t normally fight on the ice,” she quips, wiping the dried blood from his skin.

“Usually someone else does it so I never really have to.”

“So, if Darnell Nurse were here, he’d be the one beating up Tristan, not you?”

“No,” Leon says, his voice quieting. “It’d still be me.”

“Oh really,” Cassie teases. “And why is that?”

Another hiss falls from his lips, his hands jumping up to land on the back of her own thighs. The touch is soft and it sends a jolt of warmth through Cassandra. Her eyes dart down a few centimeters from the cut on his eyebrow to Leon’s own grey eyes, staring up at her. And her breath catches in her throat at the sight.

Because Leon is looking at her with the utmost tenderness, a look that she has only ever seen in movies or in her wildest dreams. But even her dreams never prepared her for the possibility of her best friend looking at her like she hung the moon in the sky.

“I’d always fight for you Cassie.”

The statement falls from Leon’s lips is filled with a quiet conviction; the sentence weighted with more confession than those six words conveyed by themselves. Maybe it was fear or uncertainty or simple disbelief that makes the one question escape from Cassandra.

“Why?”

The immediate response from Leon is just a smile – that damnable smile that always made Cassie smile back. A smile that she always thought was affectionate but only ever platonic. But now, it was as if a curtain had been lifted and she could see him clearly. It had been disappearing slowly, a little more every day during this trip, bringing Leon into a new light, a glow as warm and the tropical sunshine. But now, the realization of how much he meant to her and how much she meant to him was as crystal clear as the coastal oceans.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, his voice still soft.

There is nothing that Cassandra can say, no words in any language that she could string together to fully explain the weight of this revelation. There is only this feeling of truth, of clarity. It was Leon – it had always been Leon.

She can feel his hands on her bare skin, still feel the soft cut of his jawline in her palm, still see the look of pure… love on his face. And in that moment, there is nothing she wants to do more than kiss him. It feels as if she spent another second without Leon Draisaitl’s lips on hers, she might die.

So, she doesn’t wait any longer; she simply leans in and presses her lips against his. She can feel Leon’s fingers jolt against her skin, in shock or surprise, but it is only momentary before they tighten around her thighs, pulling her closer to him as he kisses her back. The energy that surges between them isn’t fireworks or electricity or any of the other cliches that Cassie read about in romance books. It feels simple, easy, inevitable. As easy as breathing, as simple as coming home, as inevitable as the sunrise.

Eventually, their lips fall from each other. They do not separate entirely, foreheads still touching as their eyes meet again, breathing slightly heavy as they take in everything that had changed in just a few short minutes.

“I’ve been wanting to do that forever,” Leon whispers.

“You should’ve done it sooner,” Cassie laughs. “Then this entire trip could’ve been avoided.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want that,” he replies. “This was one of the best vacations I’ve had in a long time.”

“Swimming with pigs, beating up my ex, kissing your best friend. It is pretty memorable.”

Leon chuckles, his shoulders moving underneath Cassie’s hands before he lifts his head up to kiss her again. Her arms easily wrap around his shoulders as she leans into him further, his hands drifting up her thighs, sneaking under the hem of her sundress, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Do you want to make it more memorable?” he asks, his voice dipping lower, intoxicating her. Cassie only replies with a small hum; a quiet encouragement for him to go on.

“Do you remember what you said when we first got here?” Leon continues, his lips falling from hers to trail across her jawline. “Something about how the people that bought these tickets were probably sleeping together?”

A laugh rumbles from Cassie’s chest, slightly breathless from the gentle touch of Leon’s lips against her neck.

“I think I recall saying something like that.”

“Well then, what do you say we make use of that single bed?” Leon proposes, his head moving away from her body to look back in her blue eyes, the mischievous sparkle behind his own irises oh so familiar.

“Considering that we might be kicked out tomorrow since you fist-fought another guest? Probably should make the most of our last night sharing a bed.”

“Trust me,” Leon says as he stands up, keeping Cassie’s body pressed to his as he guides her out of the bathroom and into the main hotel room. “This definitely won’t be the last time I have you in bed with me.”

“Is that a promise, Leon Draisaitl?”

“I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

#nicole writes #the summer fic exchange 2k24 #leon draisaitl fic #leon draisaitl imagine #leon draisaitl fluff #edmonton oilers fic #edmonton oilers imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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compact-turtle · 1 year ago

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So I’m my area, I’m in the country, it’s pretty common to see women just in their bikinis laid on a blanket/chair out in the yard to tan. It’s the country, ya know? No one sees you, except for whomever lives with you. It’s just something we do. How would Atticus feel about that tho? Seeing his darling in skimpy bathing-suit laying outside to tan??

I'm slowly and steadily finally going through my inbox after five months. Sorry to everyone if I don't make it to your post there's like 100+ things in my inbox :(

That would be so sweet actually. Imagine him getting butterflies and everything seeing you openly tan in a skimpy bathing suit.

----

Content Warning: slight n--s--f---w.

-Today was a mandatory laundry day for Atticus. He was officially out of clean clothes. Everything was dirty and starting to smell worse than the cows on a hot day. Of course, he didn't mind it too much, but you were here. What would you think if he didn't keep up with his hygiene?

-A basket of wet laundry was at his feet as he started to pin them up to dry. He'd much rather be out milking the cows or tending to the crops than doing this. Still, it gave Atticus time to be lost in his thoughts.

-He wondered how long he could stall you from leaving. It'd already been a few weeks since your car broke down and he knew everyone was getting antsy. Especially, after working so much on the farm.

-To combat this, he started giving everyone more breaks and days off. He even attempted to encourage them to view this as a "rent-free-all-expense-paid-vacation" in a beautiful rural setting. Thankfully, all your little friends seemed to be airheaded enough to believe this. They ain't got a lick of sense to them.

-His attention was pulled away when he noticed you from the corner of his eye. He tried watching you discreetly; wondering what you were doing. In your hands, there was a large blanket and a tote bag. You were dressed in a long white t-shirt that reached barely past your butt.

-You threw him a warm smile along as you walked past him. You stopped near an oak tree and began to lay out your blanket. Gently, you set your bag down and then took out a few items.

Perhaps you were out on a small picnic today?

-He watched slack-jawed as you removed your t-shirt to reveal everything hidden underneath. The silhouettes of your body seemed to be chiseled by the hand of a celestial sculptor. He'd gladly worship it, adorn it with jewels, anything you wanted. Your skin was like a holy text, inviting him to devote himself even deeper.

"Looks like you're begging for a mighty big sunburn there," Atticus said as he walked up. His gaze cast down as he avoided eye contact.

"No worries! I brought sunscreen with me! Actually, could you help put it on my back?" You asked as you searched in your bag for a bottle of sunscreen. You pulled it out and handed it to Atticus with a bright smile.

-He nodded, then took the bottle from you. Slowly, he poured the sunscreen into his rugged hands. He gently began to spread it out on your back.

-Atticus nervously wondered if you minded his calloused hands. Were they scratching up your back? Or was it making you regret asking him?

-Still, more than anything, he was giddier than a schoolchild. He loved the way your skin felt underneath his hands. Your skin was like a delicate canvas, soft and flawless in his eyes. This felt like a privilege to trace his fingers all across your back. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to touch the skin underneath your clothes.

"Atticus, it hurts. Be more gentle." You tenderly mumbled, "Don't push into my back so hard."

-He felt something familiar rise in his lower area. it took everything in him to not pounce on you right now. Atticus would love to litter kisses all over your back. He'd kiss every part until you were tired of it all.

-He desperately wanted needed to rut into you. To show, that he could satisfy you in any compacity you wanted. He imagined your voice moaning out in a breathy tone, begging him to just go harder and faster. Of course, he’s comply with your demands and go as faster as you want. Then he’d lean down and suck y-

"That should be good now, Atticus. Thank you for the help." You said as you flipped yourself around to face him.

-His eyes briefly dipped down to view your whole body. Another small wave of imagination rolled over him.

"No problem. Seems like all your little friends disappeared."

"It's sweet that you're worried about them! Everyone is swimming in the creek nearby. I was going to join them but figured I'd tan instead. I haven't been able to do it all summer. Especially due to our road trip."

"I see. Where'd ya get this tiny piece you got on from? Don't look like it covers much of anything."

"Oh, does it make you uncomfortable? I can go and change if-."

"No. It's fine. Just go on back and do your own thing." Atticus interrupted quickly, "Don't mind me."

-He watched as you laughed and nodded. Atticus turned back towards the house. His pace was unusually brisk with heavy panting.

-The laundry could wait. He had more important things to do right now.

----------------------------------------------------------------

(That may or may not involve fantasies of you two in some intense yoga positions)

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kiwismitten · 11 months ago

Text

Jealousy | Al Haitham x GN!reader

Summary: Kaveh wonders how jealous Al Haitham can get. slight? kaveh x reader

Warnings: none

The soft bustle of the academia library surrounds you as you copy down the diagrams from your architecture textbook in front of you. Fellow scholars stress and a few cry or nap at their desks. The bags underneath your eyes tell the same story of anxiety, stress, but a passion for what you’re learning.

As you complete the final diagram of the chapter, two figures loom over your study area before seating themselves.

“y/n how's the studying going,” The blonde senior leans on his hand, with his scholarly hat tilting off to the side slightly.

“Ah senior Kaveh, it’s going okay, do you think I’ll be fine with the next exam,” you fidget softly, eyes filled with exhaustion. Kaveh eyes your notes scanning each part thoroughly.

“These are probably a gajillion times more detailed than any of my notes were, you’re going to do amazing,” he hands your notebook back with a soft smile.

“There’s not really a way to quantify how detailed something is senior Kaveh.” Your tired eyes flicker to the taller gray haired male. Kaveh huffs in annoyance.

“Well Al Haitham maybe you could learn a bit from us, you know, banter?” Al Haitham barely looks up from his book. Brushing off what the older male said. “Anyways, y/n we were about to head over to Puspa to grab some lunch, did you want to join us?” a coffee does sound extremely appealing right now.

“Sure, let me gather my stuff.” you say putting everything into your small canvas tote.

On the way to Puspa cafe, you stumble lightly, nearly nodding off and following the wrong people a few times. Kaveh wraps his arm around your shoulder to keep you from wandering off, and he didn’t miss the way Al Haitham looked up from his book and furrowed his brows. A mischievous smile crept its way onto his face as the three of you piled into the cafe.

You all slip into one of the small booths on the side and Kaveh guides you in softly.

“What did you want to order y/n? Al Haitham can grab them for us,” The blonde looks over to his friend smirking softly.

“So now you’re volunteering for me to do things?” He cocks his eyebrow and shuts his book, setting it to the side of the table glaring lightly at Kaveh as he takes a seat next to you.

“I’ll just have a coffee please,” you lean on the wall next to you eyes fluttering. Al Haitham nods in confirmation before going to order everyone's food and drinks at the front.

Coming back to the table he clenches his jaw in annoyance at the scene in front of him. Kaveh had moved your head to lean on his shoulder saying how it’d be more comfortable that way. Al Haitham takes a seat across from you two before opening his book once again.

“Hm, difficult read Al Haitham,” Kaveh smiles at him, “You’d normally be finished with that page you’ve been on it for quite some time.” Al Haitham glares at him softly before shutting the book.

“Kaveh, our food should be ready by now, since I ordered, I believe that you should grab it for us,” He says boredly, pointing to the food and drinks in the window. Kaveh sighs in annoyance shaking you awake a bit so you can sit up. As he leaves Al Haitham walks around the side of the table and takes the seat that Kaveh was in. Seeing you still nodding off he wraps his arm around guiding your head to his shoulder. A rare content smile crosses his features turning his noise canceling off to hear your soft breaths. At Kaveh’s return the older of the two looks at him with a stupid smile before winking at him.

“so you do- get jealous!” Kaveh’s boisterous voice startles you awake. Confusion crosses your tired features looking around softly before laying your head back down on Al Haitham’s shoulder. He’s never going to live this down.

#al haitham #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #genshin fluff #kaveh is a dickhead i love him #alhaitham x gn reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

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zerobasekazuha · 11 months ago

Text

“Shhh quiet we can’t get caught!”

Pairing: AMAB Venture x Fem reader

Warnings: Oral (fem giving) cursing

Genre: Fluff/Smut

A/N: So I came across this tweet in Twitter from the same user who inspired me to do the pizza person Venture. They have such amazing ideas and y’all should def follow the twitter @/staplesquid thank you for the ideas!!

Who told Sloan that this would be a great idea?Oh right, Y/n did. So how did they get stuck in this situation where they are body to body pressed against their best friend in between a very small alleyway with their hand over her mouth? And to top it off with police who are looking for them. Well it started earlier on that day..

Y/n was an artist. They used many different materials and techniques. Her art style changed ever so often. This point in time it was graffiti. She brought multiple cans in different colors. She researched spots in town and even asked around on online forums and eventually came across the perfect spot. However it was in one of the most crime ridden spots in the city. And with no other choice she contacted Sloan to come with her.

Sloan just finished in the shower their hair was dripping wet as the windows and the mirror was fogged up. They noticed their phone light up, quickly turning down the music they had blasting then right back up to the main volume. It was a text message. They took a quick glance at it only reading the words city and alone.

It alerted them and they quickly picked up their phone trying not to drop it in the toilet as well before opening it and reading over the text. They took a sigh of relief when they read the entire text. Y/n asked if they wanted to go to a certain part of the city together because she didn’t want to go alone. They quickly sent a text saying that they would and they would be finished getting ready.

Y/n told them to wear baggy clothing and that she had a gas mask for them. And soon enough there they were taking the number 67 bus down to the worst part of the city. They looked unsuspecting enough. Two people wearing baggy clothing, one with a larger tote bag and the other carrying yet a smaller one. Both however wearing black masks. Any normal person would think they were a couple. Eventually they got off at a stop down the street from where the location was.

It seemed to be a poverty stricken street. There were deteriorating homes and people sleeping outside. Depressing to look at. The streets were also a mess with all kinds of trash around. Sloane looked at Y/n and wondered why the hell she was bringing them out here. “So…Sketchy part of town…? Going to explain why we’re out here?” They asked not knowing what was even in her tote bag.

“You know how I mentioned I wanted to do something new with my art?” Y/n asked smiling at them. They nodded wondering what point she was getting at. “Well we’re going to do some graffiti.” She said quieter than before. Sloan was completely surprised. They didn’t expect this from her. Especially considering that graffiti was a crime in their city. They continued walking with Y/n with their heart pounding in their chest as it progressively seemed to get darker.

The two ended up at an abandoned subway. Ever since the city built new lines older ones like these got left behind to just deteriorate. Little did they know the cameras were still in tact. Walking past all the other pieces if art Y/n stopped them at a close enough blank canvas. She set down her tote bag and the cans seemed to clatter inside as she opened the zipper.

“Take this.” She tossed Sloan one of the gas masks. Making sure that they changed the masks in the dark so nobody could suspect the two. After she turned on the flashlight. Pointing it at the canvas. “So take a can and go nuts.”

They spent around an hour doing what they could all the different colors and layers. Eventually it was an outstanding piece of art that differed all the others there. While Sloan drew mini stick figures. Sloan stood back to admire the painting of what had been made. “You’re such a great artist! How did you ever think of that!?” Y/n smiled under her mask. “Oh just some inspiration.”

But their time to bask in the art was limited. They could hear police sirens in the background. Then footsteps and the sound of a radio got closer and closer. The two ran off, leaving behind the extra spray cans and the flashlight and only took the empty tote bags with them.

The police chased after the two not too close behind them but not to far as well. Sloan hadn’t felt the first rush of adrenaline in forever. They kept running and running turning corners and going any direction to loose them. Sloan then found an alleyway and pulled Y/n in there with them. Pressing their bodies right next to each other and with them covering her mouth.

And that’s how they got there. The two were slowing their breathing as the police walked down close to where they were. She almost began to panic. Sloan could feel it with how she was beginning to hyperventilate. Sloan leaned down to reach her ear. They whispered in it because the last thing they wanted was a felony for abstracting federal property. “Calm down. Hush be quiet before we get caught.” They said slowly but also almost sweet like honey.

Y/n listened to them fixing her breathing and just resting against them. But feeling how close Y/n was to them was so…addicting to them. Of course she’s sat on their lap before when needed but this was different. This was the worst time to be getting aroused but they almost couldn’t help it. They thought only for a split second how sexy it would be to do what they wanted there while also hiding out away from the police. Public indecency and defacing federal property didn’t sound like two terrible charges to them.

Sloan had to think straight. They shook their head as the gas mask rested against their neck. They must have taken it off when they ran. They were thinking about her, until she seemed to be moving against them. Knocking them out of their slight daydream. The friction Sloan was feeling made them clench their jaw just slightly. “What are you doing?!” They whispered trying not to enjoy how it felt.

“It’s just a tight squeeze. My legs are falling asleep.” She whispered back trying to get comfortable. The police footsteps getting closer. She stopped moving, feeling something rest against her. She looked back at Sloan in the darkness. “Really? Now?” She whispered to them. Sloan blushed trying not to look back at her.

“I can’t help it!” Sloan whispered. They covered her mouth once again as they heard the footsteps get closer. Walking right past them. She squirmed in front of them almost on purpose feeling how much harder them seemed to get. In Sloans mind they could only wonder what she was doing to them? Was this to tease them on purpose?

The police seemed to get only slightly farther before stopping and having a conversation. “Those damn kids. Those little fuckers do this all the time. We ain’t gonna catch one.” Said one of the officers kicking a rock into the distance. “Let’s go back to the station. They need to hurry up and demolish this piece of shit so we don’t have to keep going down here.” The other said. Eventually the footsteps and the radio chatter faded. And now it was only the two of them left.

Y/n managed to turn around to look at them. “Okay their gone we should-“ Sloan kissed her. One hand on her waist and the other on the wall to support them. Y/n was surprised but kissed them back. Once Sloan broke away they looked down at her, loosing all sense of rational thought. “No you don’t get to go just yet.”

“W-what but the cops-“ “I don’t care about the cops they’re gone now. You don’t get to do that and act all innocent.” “Do what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Very clear lie from Y/n. She knew she was lying. Something about seeing their best friend try to hold back from her is arousing to say the least. In her opinion.

“So how about I show you because you don’t know.” Sloan took her hand pressing it to the bulge that seemed to be proud in front of the cargo pants they wore. Y/n looked down at it then back up at them. “So what?” She asked almost hoping they would give her the green light to do something about it.

“Well genius, you dragged me out here, nearly got both of us a felony…a misdemeanor couldn’t hurt.” Y/n looked around it was dark, nobody would catch them but public indecency isn’t just a misdemeanor. “You mean us being put on a list?” “Oh right. Well it won’t happen if we don’t get caught. You just have to stay quiet.”

It didn’t take long for Sloan to kiss her again, this time much more passionate and deeper. Almost like they were yearning for her all this time without saying anything. But there was something else underlying in the kiss. It was hunger. Their hands first rested on her waist, however they could feel hers pulling them closer in the already cramped alleyway.

Sloan wasn’t even sure they could fully go through with anything here but anything is possible. They had to rush however, it was getting darker and darker and they wouldn’t want to miss the last bus that ran in this area. They could feel Y/n wrap her fingers around their belt loops, unbuttoning the front of their cargos and sliding it down their legs. Sloan almost was at a loss for words.

Feeling her hand palming their boxers made them sharply inhale, their head tilting back against the wall. They were too in bliss to realize that instead of her hand they felt her lips around the tip of their cock.

Each second that passed feeling Y/n take more of them down her throat, the saliva running down the side of her mouth as she looked up at them in the darkness. Sloan grabbed the top of her head squeezing her hair feeling each movement of her tongue on them.

Sloan bit their lip to prevent themselves from moaning. They didn’t want to make more noise than they were supposed to. They took sharp breath before looking down at her, their eyes almost showing how desperate they were. With each moment that passed the closer they got to their release. Almost like it was within grasp.

“Oh please I-I’m going to-“ Y/n pulled back using her hands as she heard Sloan. They couldn’t stop themselves as they came on her hands. They tried to catch their breath as she looked at the mess on her hands.

“So uh…again at my place?” Sloan asked as they walked out the abandoned station together, going back to the bus stop to wait for the next bus. “I don’t see why not.” She added smiling at them before the bus pulled up.

This came out extremely late but I had severe writers block and I had to use that time to do other hobbies. But it’s here like I said it would be!!

#overwatch venture #sloane cameron #venture overwatch #overwatch fanfiction #venture x reader #venture ow2

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orchidsangel · 1 year ago

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MY BABY, MY BABY. YOU'RE MY BABY, SAY IT TO ME. (JT)

notes/cw ~ fluff, minor(ish) angst, fem!reader, talks of having a baby, idk i just had really bad dad!jason brain rot and i felt like i had to share it with my lovely angels, (2.3k)

The sound of laughter rings through your house like jingle bells during the holiday season, pitter patters of tiny feet tumbling against hardwood floors, and bigger ones chasing after them invade your ears. Squeals of laughter pour out through an open window as you pull bags of groceries out of the trunk of your car, the sound of running dying down when the trunk closes with a thump. "Is mommy home?" You hear a familiarly sweet voice say. "I think she is. Come on, let's see if we can beat her to the door."

Bags in hand, you walk up the pathway to the entrance of your house. The street of your suburban neighborhood, mostly empty on this chilly winter night, save for some residents walking their dogs before lights get turned off. The sound of a lock clicks before you're even halfway up the path, and soon after, you're met with Jason and your daughter standing in the doorway looking ridiculous, goofy grins on both of their faces. Red bows are hidden amongst his hair, some tied around short braids, some just hanging loosely on a few strands bunched together. Pink pajama pants peek out from under the red tutu she's wearing, and she dons pink ballet slippers on her feet as if she's about to perform the Nutcracker.

He steps outside, meeting you at the top of the steps, hooking his fingers under the canvas straps of your reusable tote bags—an investment you'd made to offset some of the carbon emissions from his bike—and takes them into his hands. "New hair, huh?" you ask, eyeing the variety of red satin ribbons tied in knots littering the expanse of his head. "Yeah, you like?" He asks, turning towards you, lowering his head a bit so you can get a better look. You roll your eyes, but there's a smile playing on your lips at the image of Jason sitting down while your daughter's tiny hands play hairdresser with bows and barrettes.

You close the front door behind him as he makes his way toward the kitchen to unpack the groceries, turning your attention to the little girl in front of you sporting a toothy grin. "I thought ballet ended hours ago," you say, eyeing the layers of bright red tulle you had previously hidden to avoid the specks of glitter that shed every time she moved. "She had to practice her pirouettes." you hear Jason say from inside the fridge. "Yeah, mommy. I was practicing my pirouettes." She pouts her lips and cocks her head to the side, small hands fidgeting as she tries to use cuteness to get out of trouble. You cross your arms and squint your eyes at her, "Uh huh. And the hair?" You gesture to Jason, walking toward you. "What does that have to do with pirouettes?"

He joins the two of you in the living room holding up a container of Gerber baby puffs, using them as a distraction to get both him and his little girl out of trouble. "What?" You ask, deadpan. "What d'ya mean what? We've got an infant I don't know about?" Your daughter gasps, eyes lighting up suddenly. "A sibling!" He laughs, turning towards you with a raised eyebrow. "No, you jerk. Him, not you, honey," you say, quickly correcting yourself. "They're for me." You snatch the container of blueberry-flavored rice puffs out of his hand, peeling off the lid and shoving a handful into your mouth. "God forbid women enjoy things."

You pop a few more into your mouth before feeling a tug at the coat you still hadn't taken off. When you look down, you're met with your daughter, mouth open and waiting for you to share. She stares at you with wide eyes, using your inability to say no to her to her advantage. Sighing, you raise the container a bit and pause, "Only a few, and you have to get ready for bed after." she nods her head, mouth still open, and you tilt and pour out a substantial amount. She closes her mouth and displays her adorable little smile once again before running off to the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Hold on," Jason shouts down the hallway. "Say thank you to your mom!" You hear feet running again, and soon enough, feel the soft squeeze of your daughter giving you a hug; she presses her head into your lower abdomen as you bring your hand up to softly stroke her hair. "Thank you, Mommy." She says before moving on to Jason and giving an equally soft hug despite using all her might. "And thank you, Daddy, for letting me do your hair." She lets go and scurries off again, leaving a trail of red glitter in her wake for you to clean up.

She disappears into the bathroom, and you watch the hallway, now empty, as she gets ready for bed. You sigh, listening to the sound of water running while she independently does her end-of-the-night tasks, something you'd still helped her with not too long ago. Jason's arms creep around your waist, pulling you against him. His chin rests on your shoulder, and you feel something tickle your neck, but you're not sure if it's his hair or a ribbon. He notices the solemn look in your eyes, a stark contrast to the liveliness he'd seen in you just a few moments ago. "What's wrong? Is it the glitter? Because I can clean that up." He says. "No, not that." You nibble on your bottom lip, lost in thought, trying to organize your feelings. "Just… she's gotten so big." He hums in acknowledgment, his way of saying he shares the sentiment. "I just don't know where the time went." You mumble, overcome with an unexpected sadness. "She's only five." He says into your neck, bringing his hands up to your shoulders and gently pulling off the coat you'd forgotten to take off. "Yeah, but she was just a baby not that long ago. I swear."

The both of you watch her move between her bedroom and the bathroom, soft dark brown curls bouncing with every movement. At five, she was already more responsible than most children her age, having a pretty concrete idea of right and wrong well before most kids do. Responsible for her age, but still just a baby in the grand scheme of everything, and sometimes the two of you would wonder if Jason's occupation might end up inadvertently affecting her and warping her idea of justice, but those fears were almost always disproven as soon as they came and oftentimes you didn't worry more than a few minutes. "We're doing a good job." He says from behind you, rubbing your back in an attempt to take away some of the worry. Normally, it would go away with ease, today, not so much. "We're not bad parents." You say with conviction, but you both know you're just trying to convince yourself of it. "We're not. You know we're not."

He turns you around to face him, away from the hallway, so you can't dwell any longer. His hands move to your upper arms, kneading gently as he searches for your eyes. "What's wrong? Talk to me." You struggle to make eye contact, unsure of your next words. "I think…I think I want another baby." You breathe out, looking down, unable to meet his gaze. Seconds pass, but they feel like minutes, and you barely breathe while you wait for his reaction. Not a single thing in the universe could've prepared you for the words that come out of his mouth. "Is that all? Is that what you were sulking about?" You look up at him, eyes wide, as he lets out a breathy laugh. Oh Jason, your Jason, taking your face in his hands and leaning down so he can look you in your eyes. "Don't scare me like that again, okay? Do you know how fucked up shit has to be for me to be the optimist out of the two of us?" It's your turn to laugh now, a weight having been lifted off your shoulders. "Language," you warn. "Aw, come on, she's way out of earshot." He bends down and presses his lips against yours; you close your eyes, leaning into him, hands finding his chest as you feel all of your worries melt away.

"Blegh."

The sudden sound of a disgusted child, your disgusted child, pulls you away from Jason, and you wipe your mouth in embarrassment. It's just your daughter, but you still feel like a kid who's just been caught stealing candy and is about to get lectured into oblivion; Jason, however, handles it with ease. Taking on a playfully stern tone and pointing an accusatory finger at her, he asks, "Why are you up, little lady? Shouldn't you be in bed?" She mirrors his action, pointing a finger at him now. "You didn't tuck me in or read me my bedtime story." He puts his thumb and forefinger on his chin, seemingly thinking it over. "Hmmm, seems you've got me there." He shrugs before picking her up into his arms and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "You've gone soft," you say with a laugh, the embarrassment of being caught having passed. "What can I say? She's bossy. Gets it from her mama." You nudge his shoulder lightly as he turns in the direction of her room. "Alright, that's enough out of you."

He leaves the door to her bedroom slightly cracked, and you can hear their whispers as they do their nightly routine of picking out a book to read, followed by her falling asleep in his arms. "What do you have in mind tonight?" He asks, laying her down gently on the bed adorned with princess sheets and stuffed animals he'd bought for her during trips around the world. "Can we finish Lord of the Rings?" She grabs her favorite stuffie, a gray bunny with droopy ears and button eyes, and holds it close to her chest as Jason climbs in beside her. "I don't think we can finish it, but we can fit a few pages in before it's time for you to go to sleep. That work for you?" He leans over the side of the bed and picks up a worn copy of Lord of the Rings that had been sitting on top of a stack of books he kept in her room solely for the purpose of bedtime. She nods her head at his question and snuggles further into him as he flips to the page they left off at.

You hear the sound of rustling and know the bedtime story has commenced, leaving you to clean up the mess of glitter and ribbons. Broom in hand, you start to sweep up the remnants of her "pirouette practice." Going up and down the hallway, sweeping back and forth. You catch a glimpse of the photos in the frames lining your wall before coming to a full stop and reminiscing about how far you guys have come. There were some pictures from when it was just the two of you, but most of those were kept digital, hidden amongst miscellaneous screenshots and disorganized photo albums. The majority of the framed photos came after she was born; something so special about being able to hold a photo of the three of you in your hands, to have it on display in your home proudly saying this is my family. Corny, maybe, but you'd never regretted starting the collection, especially since it had been Jason's idea. He'd been insistent that you keep a scrapbook to commemorate your ever-changing lives, but after realizing neither of you had the knack for cutting and gluing bits of paper onto pretty pages, you'd settled on the wall. Now, you look at them so often and always with fondness. Oh, how things had changed since that day, you'd met so long ago.

You don't know how long you'd been standing there, but you hear a door closing softly, and you turn to see Jason trying to make his way into the hallway with minimal noise. "Is she asleep?" You ask, barely above a whisper. "Out like a light." He says, joining you in front of the framed memories. A picture of her as a newborn, freshly discharged from the hospital, catches his eye, "she was really tiny, wasn't she?" He says, voice cracking a little as he remembers the overwhelming fear he'd experienced when you were in labor and how it all went away once he had held her in his arms. You hum in agreement as you both get lost in pictures of her from the past. Birthdays and holidays, family events and major milestones, there was a picture for everything.

There was one of her on his shoulders; she couldn't have been more than two at the time, her tiny fingers laced through locks of jet-black hair. You remember like it was yesterday; she had just watched Ratatouille and was trying to imitate Remy. He had played into it, and he couldn't get her off his shoulders for days after that. Another, taken from her first trip to the beach. You sit behind her, keeping her upright and holding her arms out, making one wave at Jason, who was behind the camera. You smile to yourself, the two of you standing outside of your daughter's bedroom, mostly content, remembering what it was like to have a baby in your arms. The memory of bringing her home floods his brain; how nervous he was yet so insanely happy he couldn't control the smile on his face. A shaky laugh falls from his lips as he pulls down a picture of the three of you still in the hospital, thumb pressed against the glass like he's trying to physically feel the moment. "Yeah…I could do it again."

been working on this almost non stop for 9 hours, literally my longest fic yet (only by like 600 words, but still !!!), special thanks to @kiyozu (my beloved) for giving me this idea !! eek, hope you guys enjoyed it <33 (user orchidsangel is going to sleep now) (also tried following up dialogue with actions this time, gonna see how that goes bc if it’s too hard to follow along with i’ll just go back to he said she said)

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #jason todd fic #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x fem!reader #red hood fluff #red hood angst #jason todd i’ll love you forever #divider by benkeibear

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