#and it makes my mom laugh to call it that

[holyblonded]

number 5 | paige bueckers

pairings: paige bueckers x reader, arsenal wfc x reader

summary: arsenal’s star girl and the new point guard for the dallas wings cross paths

notes: this was requested! i actually struggle writing romance so much also i did fabricate the scores a little…

You were born to be a star. Or at least that’s what everyone told you from the moment you could walk. You excelled at every sport you tried, basketball, tennis, track, but football stuck. Something about the ball at your feet, the way it seemed like an extension of your body, just made sense. Running up and down the field, the burn in your legs, the weight of a perfect pass, the sweet crack of a shot hitting the back of the net, it grounded you in a way nothing else ever did.

So when you were ten and got an invitation to try out for Arsenal’s Centre of Excellence, it was no surprise. Your mom scraped together every penny she had, bought two plane tickets, and told you to make it count. You balled out. There was no other way to put it. From that day on, you wore red and white like it was stitched into your skin. Arsenal was your home, your heartbeat.

You rose through the ranks quickly, and by fourteen, you were making your senior debut. With it came fame, the kind you never asked for and never wanted.

Kim Little used to tease that if you could physically dissolve into the shadows after a game, you would. But fame was a package deal. No matter how much you hated it, it stuck around. And with fame came obligations: appearances, interviews, photoshoots. Events you wouldn’t even watch in your free time, let alone attend.

Which is how you found yourself sitting stiffly in a chair, allowing a makeup artist to brush powder across your face, while your manager, Maggie, flipped through an email on her phone.

You kicked your legs back and forth, the chair squeaking slightly. “Maggieeee,” you groaned, tilting your head back dramatically. “I don’t want to gooo.”

“You think I want to be here babysitting you?” Maggie deadpanned, not even looking up from her phone.

You gasped, clutching your chest theatrically. “Wow. After everything we’ve been through? The trauma we’ve survived together?”

“The trauma of you refusing to attend anything remotely social?” Maggie snorted. “Get over yourself.”

You pouted into the mirror. “I am over myself. I’m so over myself I’m begging not to go.”

The makeup artist, bless her, tried to stifle a laugh. Maggie just rolled her eyes. “You’re going. You’re sitting in your assigned seat. You’re smiling when the cameras swing by. You’re congratulating whoever walks by. And you’re not escaping to the bathroom for half the event this time, understand?”

You groaned louder, tossing your head back against the chair. “I cannot believe this is my life.”

“You’re literally getting glammed up to sit at the WNBA draft and interview the next upcoming basketball stars. Cry me a river,” Maggie said, arching an eyebrow at you through the mirror.

The makeup artist finished your base and started on your eyes. You blinked up at her. “Wait, are you doing eyeliner? The swoopy kind? The dramatic cat one?”

“It’s called a wing, sweetie,” the artist said kindly.

You looked at Maggie. “Why do I need wings? Am I supposed to fly out of the event halfway through?”

Maggie laughed. “I wish.”

You sulked. “This is a violation of my human rights.”

“Uh-huh. Tell that to the Nike execs paying your endorsement deal,” Maggie said, standing up to go check the rack of dresses hanging nearby.

You glanced over your shoulder at the clothes. “Wait, wait, wait. I thought I was wearing a suit. Didn’t we agree on a suit? I can’t walk in heels. I’m going to fall and go viral for the wrong reasons.”

Maggie hummed thoughtfully. “You’re wearing the suit. Relax. But there are options. Versace sent three.”

“Three?” You practically yelped. “Maggie! Choices make me anxious!”

“That’s literally the least of your problems,” Maggie said, yanking one of the hangers free.

The makeup artist finished and handed you a mirror. You stared at your reflection, a little stunned. You looked…grown. Too grown. The soft glam, the liner, the perfect glow, someone who looked like they knew what they were doing. Someone who belonged at fancy events. Not the awkward, slightly fidgety player who still preferred a Sunday league game over a black-tie gala.

“I look like I know things,” you said faintly.

Maggie snorted. “You do. You know how to kick a ball better than ninety-nine percent of the planet. Now come on. Pick a dress so I can get you dressed before you start hyperventilating.”

You stood up and padded over to the garment rack, eyeing the options with suspicion. One was navy, one was black, and one was a daring white. You pointed at the black one. “That one. Safe. Stealth mode.”

Maggie gave you a look. “You’re not a ninja.”

“Could be.”

“Pick shoes.”

You rifled through the shoe boxes. “Do they make cleats that look like dress shoes?”

“Pick real shoes, you menace.”

You grumbled under your breath but chose a pair of sleek black heels. A couple of stylists helped you into the dress, fixing your straps and adjusting the dress like a mom getting her kid ready for picture day.

As you smoothed your hands down your dress, you caught your reflection again. You looked…good. Still felt like a fraud, but looked good.

Maggie handed you your small clutch. “Smile at least once tonight. You can manage that much, can’t you?”

“I’ll smile once if you let me skip the afterparty.”

“We’ll negotiate.”

You side-eyed her. “You’re the worst.”

“You’re lucky I like you.”

You bumped your shoulder into hers lightly. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Maggie smirked. “Go on, superstar. Time to suffer.”

You sighed, exaggerating every step as you followed her toward the waiting car, already counting down the minutes until you could escape back into your quiet, normal world.

But hey, at least you looked good while suffering.

The draft was buzzing, flashing cameras, laughter, the occasional high-pitched squeal of celebration, and you were sitting center stage, right in the chaos of it all.

You shifted in your seat, adjusting the long, black custom Versace dress hugging your frame. The gold designs swirling around the fabric caught the light with every move, glinting like fire. Your black and gold heels clicked lightly against the floor as you crossed one leg over the other, holding the mic lightly in your hand, playing your role for the night, interviewing players for Nike’s coverage of the draft.

This wasn’t really your scene, you didn’t love the noise, the chaos, but tonight, you were good at faking it. You were charming, quick-witted, and, surprisingly, actually having fun.

Right now, you were interviewing A’ja Wilson, who had the entire place wrapped around her finger with her energy.

“So, A’ja,” you said into the mic, grinning. “Be honest. How many group chats do you think have exploded the night you were drafted with people pretending they’ve been your best friend since elementary school?”

A’ja cackled, throwing her head back. “Girl, my phone look like it got hacked, that’s how many messages I got!”

You fake gasped, putting a hand to your chest. “And here I thought I was special.”

She laughed again and bumped your shoulder with hers. “You’re special. You different.”

You played it up, winking at the camera. “You heard it here first. I’m different.”

The two of you bantered back and forth for a few more minutes, keeping the energy light and fast. A’ja was a dream to interview, lively, hilarious, easygoing. But eventually, her PR person tapped her on the shoulder and pulled her away for more press.

You were just adjusting your mic when someone from Nike leaned down and murmured, “Paige Bueckers is next. She’s on her way over.”

Your stomach did a weird little flip.

Paige Bueckers.

You weren’t exactly the type to get starstruck anymore. You were too used to being the star yourself. A trailblazer that’s what everyone said about you. You had carved your own path through Arsenal, through women’s football, smashing records before you were even out of your teens.

But still…Paige was different. And when you looked up and saw her walking toward you, blonde hair shining under the lights, that easygoing smile on her face, yeah, okay, maybe you were a little starstruck.

Paige’s eyes caught yours and she didn’t look away. There was a jolt of electricity between you, instant and undeniable.

“Hey,” she said, voice low, almost amused, as she sat down next to you, a little closer than strictly necessary.

“Hey,” you echoed, giving her a slow smile as you passed her a mic.

You introduced her to the camera with your usual polished energy, but under the surface, there was a heat building, a charged current in the air between you that you knew the cameras couldn’t quite capture.

“First of all, huge congrats,” you said, grinning. “Drafted number one to the Dallas Wings, casual, no big deal.”

Paige laughed softly, eyes crinkling. “‘preciate you.”

“And second of all,” you added, digging into the bag at your side with a mischievous glint in your eye, “since it’s a big night, I thought we should toast.”

You pulled out two juice boxes.

The entire area around you cracked up, staff, Nike reps, even a few players passing by.

Paige raised her eyebrows, grinning wide. “You’re unreal.”

“I get that a lot,” you deadpanned, offering her one.

She reached out to take it, and your fingers brushed. Lingering. Way longer than necessary. Heat exploded up your arm.

Paige didn’t break eye contact for a second as she gently tapped her juice box against yours. “To new beginnings,” she murmured.

“To causing chaos,” you said back, voice dropping just a fraction.

She smiled, slow, lazy, devastating and for a second you genuinely forgot what your next question was.

It didn’t help that every time you handed her the mic, or gestured toward her, her fingers would find yours, light, feather-soft touches that made your brain foggy. It was all flirting, lowkey, under the radar, enough to make you giddy while still keeping the professional face for the cameras.

Eventually, after what felt like the fastest and slowest ten minutes of your life, Paige’s team had to pull her for other media obligations. She stood, squeezing your shoulder lightly as she handed the mic back, the contact lingering just a second too long, and then she was gone.

You blinked after her, shaking your head a little as you straightened in your seat.

“Get it together,” you muttered under your breath, adjusting your dress.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. A few more interviews, lots of smiles, polite laughter but your mind kept replaying her.

Finally, hours later, you sat at a small lounge area off to the side, checking the time on your phone. Five more minutes, and you could officially leave. You sighed, letting your head rest back against the chair.

“Long night?”

You turned and there she was. Paige.

Standing there, still looking stupidly good, her hands tucked casually into her pants pockets.

You smirked. “You stalking me now?”

“Maybe,” she said, grinning, sliding into the seat next to you.

This close, you could smell her perfume, clean and a little sweet. She turned slightly toward you, her knee brushing yours lightly.

The air between you felt electric again like something important was about to happen.

“You were great earlier,” she said, voice a little softer, a little rougher. “Had me laughing the whole time.”

You grinned, tilting your head. “I aim to please.”

She leaned in just slightly, eyes locked onto yours. “You do a good job of it.”

You were fully engaged now, giving back every ounce of energy she was throwing at you. Your posture, your smirk, the teasing glint in your eyes, it was all deliberate. It was fun. Dangerous.

Just when you opened your mouth to throw a cheeky comment back, Maggie appeared behind you, tapping your shoulder.

“Car’s ready,” she said.

You groaned dramatically. “Five more minutes, Maggie.”

Maggie just rolled her eyes and walked off, clearly used to your antics.

You gathered your clutch and started standing up when Paige said quickly, “Wait—can I get your number?”

You paused, pretending to think it over, tapping your finger against your chin. “Hmm. I don’t know…do you deserve it?”

Paige raised an eyebrow, challenging. “I’d like to think so.”

You glanced around, spotted a Sharpie on the table, and grabbed it. Without another word, you gently took Paige’s arm, rolled up the sleeve of her jacket just enough, and scribbled your Instagram handle in bold, black ink across the inside of her forearm.

You capped the pen and handed it back, smirking. “You have to work for the number. Start there. I’m here until the 19th.”

Paige looked down at her arm, then back up at you, pure amusement and interest written all over her face.

“Challenge accepted,” she murmured.

You shot her a wink, then turned and walked off toward the exit, feeling her eyes burning into your back the whole way.

Behind you, Paige just sat there, arm resting on the back of the chair, staring at the Instagram handle scrawled on her skin, a smug, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips.

The past few days had felt like something out of a dream, one you didn’t quite want to wake up from.

Since the draft night, you and Paige had been nearly inseparable. Breakfasts that turned into lunches. Exploring Dallas, discovering hidden coffee shops, cozy bookstores, late-night drives with the windows down and music blasting.

There was something about Paige, something easy and magnetic, that made you drop your guard quicker than you ever thought you could. You weren’t usually the type to let people in so fast, but with her? It felt natural.

She made you laugh until your sides hurt, challenged you in every little way, and had this habit of looking at you like you were the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.

Now, it was your last night before you had to catch your flight back to London, back to Arsenal, back to the chaos of your life.

Neither of you had said it out loud, but the weight of it hung in the air.

You were sprawled out on her couch, the two of you a tangle of limbs, comfortable and lazy. The TV was playing something neither of you were watching, the golden glow of the setting sun pouring in through the windows.

Paige nudged you with her foot. “Twenty questions.”

You turned your head to look at her, grinning. “Childish.”

“Scared?” she teased, one eyebrow raised.

“Never.”

You shifted to face her fully, folding your legs underneath you. “Fine. You start.”

“Okay.” Paige bit her lip, thinking. “Favorite color?”

You snorted. “Weak start. Black. Obviously.”

“You’re so emo,” she teased.

“Yeah? What’s yours, Bueckers?”

“Purple,” she answered easily.

You nodded. “You look like you like purple.”

You volleyed back and forth, favorite foods, hidden talents, weirdest fears (hers: snakes; yours: accidentally locking yourself in a bathroom at a party).

The questions grew slower, deeper. What’s your happiest memory? What scares you most about getting older? How do you actually cope with the fame?

That one hit differently. You stared at the ceiling for a second before answering.

“I don’t know if I do,” you said finally. “I think I just… compartmentalize. Like, there’s me, the person, and then there’s the version of me people want. And I just…try not to let them touch too much.”

Paige watched you quietly, eyes impossibly soft.

“You’re good at pretending,” she said, almost like it wasn’t a question.

You chuckled under your breath. “Yeah. You too.”

There was a beat of silence. The kind that was heavy and thick but not uncomfortable. Just… charged.

You didn’t know who moved first, maybe it was both of you at once, but suddenly Paige was shifting closer, and you were mirroring her without even thinking.

“Your turn,” she said, voice low.

You wet your lips, heart hammering. “What are you thinking right now?”

Paige’s eyes darkened, a slow, smoldering look that made your whole body tighten with anticipation.

“I’m thinking about how long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” she said, voice almost a whisper now.

Your breath caught, not from shock, but from pure, overwhelming want. You didn’t speak. You just leaned in, your hand finding her cheek, thumb brushing lightly across her skin. And then her lips were on yours. It started slow, gentle, almost cautious.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, feeling Paige’s fingers slide up to bury themselves in your hair. Her other hand found your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you flush against her.

You kissed like you were starving for it, mouths parting, breathing each other in, that sweet sting of desperation hanging between you.

You shifted your body, swinging a leg over her lap without even thinking, straddling her. Her hands found your hips instantly, gripping tight, anchoring you to her.

She pulled back for half a second, just enough to look up at you—lips swollen, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide.

“Can I have your number now?” she asked, slightly breathless, but that same teasing glint still dancing in her eyes.

You grinned, slow and wicked, pretending to think about it.

And then, instead of answering, you leaned down and kissed her again, harder this time, teeth grazing her bottom lip in a way that made her groan low in her throat.

She pulled you closer, her hands roaming your sides, fingertips dragging against the thin fabric of your shorts, touch after touch setting your nerves on fire.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, foreheads resting against each other.

“You’re a tease,” Paige murmured, her voice wrecked and fond all at once.

“You like it,” you whispered back.

She laughed, that gorgeous, laugh that made your chest ache, and tightened her hold on you like she wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

The locker room buzzed with the usual pregame energy, music blasting, boots being laced, jerseys being pulled over heads. You were tucked into your little corner, half-dressed in your kit, phone perched secretly in your hands as your thumbs moved fast over the screen.

p buckets 🩷

Good luck today superstar. Wish I could sneak down there and see you before the game starts.

You bit your lip to hide the stupid smile tugging at your mouth, your cheeks burning. You quickly fired back a reply.

you

behave, bueckers. you’ll distract me.

Almost immediately, another text pinged.

p buckets 🩷

No promises. You’re too fine in that jersey.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out, low, giddy, and you bowed your head, trying to be subtle about it.

Too late. Katie McCabe, the nosiest, loudest teammate you had, caught sight of you immediately.

She strutted over, towel thrown around her neck, and leaned down into your space.

“Alright, who’s got you smiling like a little idiot, huh?” she teased, smirking.

You jumped slightly, snapping your phone against your thigh and shoving it behind you.

“No one!” you blurted out way too fast.

Katie laughed, throwing her arm around your shoulders. “Yeah, sure, tell me another one.”

Before you could even come up with a terrible excuse, another figure appeared, Leah Williamson herself, captain, protector, honorary big sister. She had her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, clearly sensing blood in the water.

Chloe Kelly, recently back from on loan from Man City and another big-sister figure in your life, wasn’t far behind. The two of them exchanged one look, a deadly one, before closing in on you like sharks smelling blood.

“Who is it?” Leah demanded, half-joking, half-serious.

“No one!” you insisted again, your voice climbing an octave.

“Why you lying for?” Chloe chimed in, laughing. “We’ve known you since you were running around the training ground in your big cleats.”

Leah nodded solemnly. “Exactly. We know your tells.”

“I don’t have tells!” you whined.

They both raised their eyebrows.

“Yeah? Then why are you blushing like a tomato, little one?” Katie added, winking.

You were about to come up with some desperate, terrible lie when Renee, your head coach, clapped her hands loudly from across the room.

“Alright, enough!” Renee barked, her voice cutting through the chatter. “Eyes up here, team meeting!”

You exhaled a huge breath of relief as everyone shuffled toward the center of the room.

Katie shot you a wink. Leah narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. Chloe mouthed we’re not done before turning away.

You shook your head, cheeks still hot, and tucked your phone away safely in your locker.

The game against Lyon was electric — exactly what you expected from a Champions League semi-final first leg.

It ended tied 2–2, a hard-fought, emotional battle with moments of brilliance from both sides. You had picked up an assist and drawn the foul that led to your team’s penalty. Not bad, but you were already replaying every moment in your head, thinking about how you could have done even more.

After the final whistle, you did your usual rounds, clapping the fans, signing shirts, tossing your training jacket into the crowd.

It was the best part of nights like this, connecting with the people who supported you through it all.

You made your way along the barricades, signing shirts, hats, even a football boot at one point. And then you saw her.

Paige.

Leaning casually against the barrier, her blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, wearing a simple black Nike hoodie and jeans, somehow still managing to look unfairly good.

The second your eyes locked, you felt yourself light up like a firework.

You tried—tried—to keep it cool, but your grin cracked through instantly.

“Hey, superstar,” Paige teased as you got closer.

“Hey yourself, rookie,” you fired back, feeling breathless for absolutely no reason.

You signed a few more things for kids near her, pretending not to be in a rush to get to her. Finally, you stopped right in front of her.

“You want something signed, Bueckers?” you teased, tapping the Sharpie against her hoodie.

She smirked, mischief in her eyes. “Depends. You gonna make it special for me?”

You chuckled lowly, took a dramatic, exaggerated breath and then, grinning wide, you grabbed the hem of her hoodie and scribbled your signature across it. A big, messy, ridiculous signature.

“Collectible now,” you said, handing the pen back and winking.

She laughed, brushing her fingers lightly against yours as she took it, a little lingering, a little too casual. You felt the shiver go down your spine.

You two kept flirting, kept leaning a little closer than necessary, exchanging little touches that burned hotter every second. Then you felt it. That disruptive energy.

You peeked over Paige’s shoulder and sure enough across the pitch, perched near the tunnel, Leah and Chloe were squinting hard in your direction. Hands on hips. Mouths slightly open like they couldn’t quite believe what they were seeing.

You rolled your eyes and groaned dramatically.

“Problem?” Paige teased, noticing your sudden change in vibe.

“Just my bodyguards,” you said dryly.

She laughed, low and knowing.

“I’ll see you after I finish up,” you said, stepping back slightly but still reluctant to leave.

“You better,” she said, eyes twinkling.

You shot her one last grin, before jogging back toward the tunnel but not before blowing her a playful kiss that made her shake her head and laugh under her breath.

The whistle blew and the Emirates erupted.

5–1.

Five to one.

You could barely hear yourself think over the roar of the crowd, your teammates piling onto you, hugging, shouting, screaming their lungs out.

You had scored a banger, a left-footed rocket into the top corner, and you could still feel the buzz in your veins.

Arsenal Women were going to the Champions League final. The first time in eighteen years.

You stumbled around the pitch with the others, grinning so hard your face hurt, high-fiving everyone you could reach.

Confetti was already starting to drift down like snow. Flags waving, chants booming from the stands. It was a dream.

You turned, soaking it all in and then your eyes swept the crowd. And there she was.

Standing just beyond the barriers, hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, a soft smile on her lips as she watched you.

The second your eyes locked, you lit up like the fourth of July.

You grinned wide, practically bouncing on the spot, and jerked your head toward her, mouthing wait for me.

You tore through your usual post-game routine, signing shirts, tossing your training top into the stands, posing for a few pictures, rushing but trying not to make it obvious.

The second you got close enough, you didn’t even think. You launched yourself over the barrier, right into Paige’s arms.

She caught you instantly, strong and sure, wrapping you up and lifting you slightly off the ground. You laughed into her neck as she swung you side to side, holding you tight like she wasn’t planning on letting go.

“I am so proud of you,” she murmured into your ear, voice warm and full of something that made your heart squeeze painfully.

You pulled back just enough to see her, your faces inches apart, still smiling, still dizzy with adrenaline and joy. And then, without a second thought, Paige leaned in and crashed her lips onto yours.

It was messy and breathless and perfect, the taste of victory and salt and something sweeter you didn’t have a name for yet. Her hands cupped your jaw, yours grabbed fistfuls of her shirt, both of you entirely forgetting the rest of the world existed.

Unfortunately, the rest of the world had not forgotten about you.

A chorus of screams shattered the moment. You cracked one eye open to see Leah and Chloe a few meters away, standing on the edge of the pitch, pointing at you dramatically.

“OI!! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” Leah shouted, voice high with betrayal.

“YOU’RE DEAD! DEAD DEAD DEAD!” Chloe screeched, looking two seconds away from vaulting the barrier herself.

You snorted into Paige’s shoulder, half laughing, half dying of second-hand embarrassment.

Thankfully, Lia Wälti appeared behind them like an angel. She threw an arm across both Leah’s and Chloe’s chests, physically restraining them like they were wild animals about to bolt.

She caught your eye over their heads, gave you a slow, exaggerated wink, and mouthed go!

You grinned wickedly, stuck your tongue out at Leah and Chloe, and watched as their shrieks of protest somehow got even louder.

You turned back to Paige, still tucked safely against her. “Let’s go,” you whispered urgently, laughing under your breath. “Before they break free and I have to explain to the board why Leah Williamson murdered me in public.”

Paige grinned, grabbed your hand tightly in hers, and tugged you away into the bowels of the stadium—running, laughing, hearts pounding, hand in hand, your futures cracking wide open right behind you.

[kisses4themissus]

Just A Fool | M.R X Reader

a/n: happy mothers day y'all...why not celebrate mother's day with some cuteness...and angst.. pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Single Mom!Reader wc: 5.2k (idk I blinked and it was at 5k)

prev | masterlist | send me love letters

Chatter and clicking of plates and cups filled the restaurant.

“So?” Robby began, glancing over to Lacey then to you beside her. “How did you not know she’s mine?” You asked, confused how he had assumed she was your niece. “I wasn’t thinking, does anyone else know?” he asked, glancing over to see Lacey already staring at him.

“I thought everyone knew i was a mom, lovebug stop staring at him.” You said, patting lacey’s hand on the table.

“He looks like the guy from josh’s game!” Lacey realized after staring intently at robby. “If having a kid turns you away then– what did you say?” you turned to lacey who sat next to you smiling at robby.

“He looks like the army guy!” She laughed, before turning to robby, sitting up on her knees. “My mommy likes his face hair.” She told Robby, who chuckled and titled his head. “Army guy?” Robby questioned.

“She thinks you look like a call of duty character.” You explained, chuckling to yourself. 

With a shocked expression, Robby stared at Lacey for a bit before turning to you. “She plays call of duty?” he asked, shocked as the little girl began to nod proudly.

You laughed and shook your head. “Her older cousins play but they let her get on the mic to talk shit.” You explained, looking over to see Lacey searching for her restaurant crayon. 

Robby nodded at the explanation. “I’ve dated a single mom before, she had a son…his name is jake.” Robby spoke softly as he watched you recognize the name.

“The boy who lost his girlfriend at pittfest?” You questioned, earning a slow nod from robby.

“He told me that he had gone to a therapist and said that it didn’t help but when he went to the hospital, he ran into someone..” Robby hinted, making you nod.

“I know the grief he’s going through, told him I wished Adamson was here so I could give him a proper apology.” you told robby, running your hand over the back of lovebug’s head 

There was a beat of silence before Robby asked.

“Was the person you lost her dad?” Robby motioned for lovebug who was too busy following the little maze on her place setting to listen to the adults.

You shook your head. “I wish he was her dad, he would’ve been a great one.” You sighed, looking down at the little girl. Robby saw the look of sadness and backed off the topic. 

Feeling eyes on her, Lacey looked up and saw both you and robby staring at her. “What?” She asked, looking a bit upset. “Got a problem?” She asked, raising her crayon to point at robby and you.

Robby chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “I haven’t said anything.” 

Lacey sighed and nodded before flipping her place mat to face Robby, handing him a yellow crayon. She tapped the paper and pointed to her little tic tac toe board where she had placed a big X in the middle.

Glancing over you took in a deep breath and looked at robby with a smile. “Good luck, she’s good at those..” You sighed, picking up your drink.

Robby had begun to play with Lacey, at first letting her win but slowly grew to be competitive as she managed to trap him each time before running her red crayon over a line of hidden X’s. He leaned across the table and looked at Lacey in a mix of shock and awe.

“How do you keep doing that?” He laughed as Lacey shrugged before turning to you.

“How much longer, I'm hungry!” She dragged out her letters, flopping over on your shoulder.

You laughed and rubbed her head. “I’m not sure lovebug, we’re not the only people in here eating.” You explained, motioning towards the other booths and tables.

She sighed and placed her hands under her chin as she sat back down. She looked out the window before sighing once more, a bit more dramatic.

Both you and robby exchanged a look.

“Why does your family all call her that?” Robby asked, earning a laugh from you.

“Before I found out I was pregnant, I claimed I had a really terrible stomach bug, that’s why I was always tired, vomiting, and grumpy. So when I took a test and it was positive my brothers teased me by saying I had a lovebug in my stomach.” You explained.

Robby chuckled and nodded. “She’s more of a bedbug though!” You teased, tickling her sides. 

“Stop it mommy!” She laughed, wiggling from you.

You let her go and smiled as she sighed and moved back to her part of the booth, leaning over the table, Lacey looked at robby.

“Dr. robby. what’s your favorite color?” She asked, tapping the table with her pink painted nails. Robby chuckled and pretended to think.

“Blue.” He answered, earning a nod from lovebug.

“I like blue, my favorite is green.” She smiled at the doctor. 

“How was rat practice?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink, watching as Lacey perked up.

“Great, me and the older kids said on opening night we should do WWE rats, and– and I'd be the flying rat off the couch!” She explained, her eyes bright as she said her plan. You and Robby laughed.

“And the boys agreed?” You asked, laughing into your cup.

“Yep, Jason said to do it!” She nodded, waiting for you to finish your drink before asking for a sip.

Robby’s heart warmed as he watched you and Lacey across from him.

Lacey happily drank the lemonade, streaks of the drink on the sides of her mouth, she sighed and wiped it away with the back of her hand.

“Here honey.” Robby handed the little girl his napkin, smiling warmly as she nodded and wiped her face and arm. “Thanks dr. robby!” She grinned.

“You just call me robby.” His heart grew as you laughed.

“But you’re a doctor!” Lovebug tried to reason. “Like when mommy isn’t nice, I call her dr. mommy.” She explained before taking gulps of more lemonade.

“What’s your favorite food lacey?” Robby asked, making the little girl stop her gulps, she let out a deep gasp before answering.

“I like cheesy noodles!” She explained, making Robby tilt his head in confusion. 

“Fettuccine alfredo.” You clarified, lacey nodding in agreement. She turned to your purse and searched through it. Leaving you and robby to your own conversation.

 - - - - - - - -

Leaving the restaurant, you attempted to carry lacey who looked around the street, her sugar rush going crazy.

Robby noticed the look on your face as Lacey chattered and attempted to climb around you and quickly stepped in.

“C’mon monkey.” He took lacey and held her up. You smiled at the two. Lacey settled down a bit as Robby placed her on the ground before giving her a piggyback ride.

“Sure, your old man back won’t give out?” You teased, earning a laugh from robby; the fluttering in your stomach resumed. “I can’t guarantee it.” he joked, following as you walked to your car down the street.

As you passed an ice cream parlor, you took a deep breath and waited.

“Ooh, can we stop!” Lacey squealed, making you chuckle. Robby glanced at you with a grin. 

“It is nice to have dessert after dinner.” Robby teased, making you sighed before nodding at the pair, who cheered and walked inside. As the tired employee greets you three, staring at the ice cream flavors you turned to ask what everyone was getting only to see a sight that’d melt your heart.

Robby had moved Lacey to be in his arms, nodding as she pointed out different flavors she had liked the sound of. You felt red as robby’s free hand fell to your lower back and guided you to the counter.

“We’ll take a waffle cone with, what did you say you wanted honey?” Robby asked, looking at Lacey who sat comfortable in his arms.

“Cotton candy!” She squealed, making robby chuckle and nod at the employee before turning to you.

“What do you want?” he asked, not noticing how flustered you were. “Um- can i get a brownie sundae please.” You ordered, your face feeling overwhelmingly warm.

The employee nodded and typed something on the register screen. “And one fudge sundae.” Robby finished, removing his hand from your back to get his wallet out of his back pocket. 

“Hold this honey.” Robby told Lacey who nodded and held his leather wallet as he got out a twenty. At the same time you had pulled up your digital wallet on your phone.

You and robby looked at each other, robby looked almost offended as you attempted to pay. “Put that away, I'm treating you girls.” He playfully scolded you, making you nervously chuckle, nodding as you turned your phone off, letting him hand over the bill.

“Could you get the change for me, Lacey's shoe is falling off.” He asked, not waiting for a response, walking over to a booth and sat lacey down before helping the little girl with her Mary Jane shoes.

“Cute family.” The employee smiled at you, handing the change over.

You stuttered to get the words out. “Thanks..” You smiled and quickly walked over to the two.

After you and robby had shared your sundaes with each other, you three continued the way to your car.

As you unlocked the back door and loaded Lacey in, she sighed and whined. 

“What’s wrong babybug?” You asked, running a hand on her leg, trying to sooth her. “I don’t want dr. robby to leave!” She sighed, looking at Robby with puppy eyes. “Please come home with me and mommy!” She pleaded. 

You sighed at her. “Eat your ice cream before it melts some more!” You pointed to the waffle cone, she followed your finger and quickly jumped up to start eating it.

Both you and robby chuckled, softly shutting the door. You turned to robby and looked around the parking lot to see a few cars.

“Which is yours?” You asked, finally looking at him who smiled at you. “I walked.” He shrugged, watching as your eyes widened. “What?!” You scoffed at him. “And I thought carrying lovebug would’ve taken your back out..” You lightly laughed.

He nodded and motioned for you to get in the car. 

“You can’t be serious, I'm not gonna drive off and leave you to walk back to your apartment michael..” You said, noticing the flushed look on robby’s face. “What did you call me?” He asked, a sly grin growing.

You recalled your words and froze at the slip up. “Robby…I meant robby!” You attempted to cover. He nodded and grinned. “Nice cover slick.” 

“Are you getting in the passenger or what?” You asked, turning to the driver’s seat.

Robby laughed and nodded, opening the driver's door for you before running to the passenger side.

 - - - - - - - -

Somehow lacey had managed to convince you and robby to go back to your own apartment, robby agreed on staying till lovebug had passed out.

Unlocking the door, you sighed and smiled as Lacey ran into the living room and threw herself at the couch. Robby stayed at the doorway and admired the apartment, hanging plants in every corner of the rooms, a small kitchen and living room, two doors on each side of the apartment; easily you could tell which was Lacey's the colored construction paper and stickers stuck on the white door.

You kicked off your shoes and walked to your kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a cold water bottle, you turned to robby and offered one. “No thanks, nice place.” He nodded and looked around.

“Thank you.” You smiled, walking around the kitchen and poured the water into a bottle with cartoon characters before going to the couch and handing Lacey the plastic cup, “drink it for me please!” You smiled as the little girl began to chug it down.

She hopped onto the sofa, and patted the spot next to her for robby to sit, you sat on the opposite side of lacey and picked up the remote.

“Movie or bluey?” You asked lovebug who paused before looking at robby then back at you. “Movie since dr. Robby hasn't seen bluey!” She sighed, motioning for you to pick a movie out. 

Robby chuckled as she slouched down, and watched as you scrolled through movies, waiting for someone to pick.

“OH ALADDIN!” Lacey popped up from the couch and pointed at the screen. You hovered over the disney movie and turned to see Robby watching with a smile as Lacey bounced around, waiting.

He glanced at you and nodded.

It had barely gotten half way through when Lacey's sugar high hit, causing her to crash on the carpet in front of the hung tv. “She looks like a bug that’s been squished.” Robby chuckled, leaning over as you got up and prepared yourself to pick her up.

“Oh that’s because she’s tired from her long day, normally she’s fighting off demons.” You joked, you picked up the half full water bottle and placed it on the table to the side of the sofa.

Robby got up from the couch and carefully scooped up lovebug and looked at you. 

Too busy staring at robby’s broad shoulders you hadn’t noticed him gently shushing Lacey as she whined in her sleep, gently patting her back. Snapping back, you led robby to her room and watched as robby sat her down gently, you walked over and settled her in.

Robby smiled at Lacey's room; fairy lights were strung up across the room’s ceiling, painted stars on the walls, he looked back and blushed; It had felt oddly right to be domestic with you.

With a forehead kiss, you backed away from Lacey's room, turning on her fairy lights before leaving the room with robby.

Robby quietly shut her room door, noticing as you walked to your kitchen to clean up. 

He sighed and walked over to you. “I’ll be taking my leave now.” He smiled as you turned to him, two wine glasses in hand. “So soon?” You grinned, placing the glasses down on the island before turning to an upper cabinet and pulled out a bottle of wine.

Robby chuckled and sighed, looking down. “Alright, you got me.” He shook his head and walked further into the kitchen as you popped open the bottle. 

Robby took it gently from your hands and began pouring some into the glasses.

You scoffed at the amount. “Give me that, stop trying to be cheap with it!” You both laughed, taking the bottle from his hands.

He watched as you poured more wine into the glasses.

“Trying to wine and dine me?” He asked, a sly grin on his face as you froze in place.

“...possibly..” You looked at him quickly before taking a long sip of the wine. “I mean, I'm not opposed.” he told you before taking a drink. Feeling flushed, you watched as he drank more. “If you think you can stay quiet then absolutely..” You shrugged, placing down your glass.

There was a beat before both you and robby leaned into each other and let your lips touch, it was exciting, your stomach curled in as he reached to cup your face, bring you deeper into the kiss.

You pulled away first, smiling as he followed your lips. Placing your hands on his chest you motioned to your bedroom. Robby smiled and picked you up, cupping your bottom as he carried you to the bedroom, shutting the door and locking it behind you both.

 - - - - - - - -

Waking up to the smell of food was unusual for robby. He looked up from where he laid, all the memories of the night before rushed back, the late night chat with you.

He grinned and got up, putting on his clothes from the day before. Opening the door he saw you in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you made coffee and prepared something. Walking over he stopped at the kitchen island, smiled as you turned and grinned at him.

“Morning robby..” You said a bit shyly. He chuckled and walked over you, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Good morning, sleep well?” He asked, you closed your eyes and leaned your head against him. “Be quiet!” You giggled.

Robby had begun to help you make sandwiches, he raised an eyebrow as he placed another into a zip lock bag. “What are these for?” He asked, slightly confused.

You chuckled as you finished another sandwich. “Every other weekend, I get lacey all dressed up and cutesy and we go have a picnic.” You explained.

“That’s sweet.” Robby smiled.

As you both talked about your date, Lacey's door swung open to show a tired and crazy haired lacey. Her pajamas all messed up, one pant leg was hoisted up by her knee while the other was on the ground, her shirt was now backwards.

She walked out and rubbed her eyes as she yawned, she dragged over a stepping stool and hopped onto a stool nearby to sit down.

Robby quietly chuckled at the sight while you smiled and walked over to your crazy little girl. “You ready for our picnic?” You asked, earning a nod from her.

“Is dr. Robby coming with?” She asked, quietly. You looked over your shoulder and shrugged. You leaned in and shrugged at you. “I think you should ask him.” Your words made her light up.

“Do you want to go with us dr. robby?” Lacey asked, sitting up looking at robby with her puppy dog eyes once more.

He sighed and nodded. “I’d love to!” He grinned. With an answer lacey nodded and motioned for you to help her down.

Lacey ran off to your bathroom to brush her teeth and her hair. Leaving you and robby alone again.

Robby looked down at his clothes before nodding to himself, with a deep breath he walked over to you and leaned in. “I need to go back to my place, I need an outfit for the picnic with you lovely ladies.” He grinned as you got flustered and nodded, robby leaned in and kissed your cheek before leaving your apartment, out walked lacey, toothbrush in her mouth, her comb stuck in her hair as she looked around and shrugged at you. 

“Where’s dr. robby?” She mumbled, making you giggle before walking over and guided her back to the bathroom. “He went home to change, just like we need to change you into your dress.”

 - - - - - - - -

Robby had sent you a text about a park he knew that had good shade and a playground to take lacey to. You had agreed to meet there, packing up the picnic basket, a big enough blanket and getting lacey into the car; thankfully you had gotten there peacefully and quickly.

You carried the basket while Lacey insisted she carried the blanket, she walked through the grass, smiling as little kids ran past and towards the big playground. You had spotted robby across the park and walked with lacey over to him.

“Hi Michael!” Lacey yelled, making Robby turn and smile widely at you both.

You laughed and looked at lacey. “How do you know his name?” You asked, the little girl shrugged.

“After ice cream you called him michael.” She explained, running over as Robby knelt down to her height.

“Look at how pretty your dress is!” Robby smiled and spun her around, making her skirt fan out.

She laughed and sighed as he stopped and turned to you, his cheeks tinting pink.

You stood before him in a matching dress with lacey, a basket in hand and a warm smile on your face made his heart palpitate. “You look wonderful too!” He told you, taking the basket from your arm as lacey attempted to lay the blanket out.

“Thanks robby!” You smiled, helping lacey before sitting down on the blanket. Turning back to him, you chuckled as robby stood still, watching over you both.

“Come sit.” You patted the spot next you, robby nodded and with a groan sat down, placing the basket to the side. 

Lovebug began to buzz on her knees as kids ran past laughing, she turned to you.

Without having to ask you nodded at her and watched as she zoomed to the playground. “She could hardly wait.” Robby laughed, his arm going around your waist. You watched with a smile as Lacey joined a group of kids easily and began to play.

“I didn’t get to tell you but you look very nice as well.” You complimented, turning your head to robby who was looking over his shoulder. “I don’t look as good as you in that dress though.” He winked, making you both chuckle.

TIme had passed, you and robby had ended up cuddled together under the tree, watching as Lacey played with other kids, talking about anything and everything. 

You sighed and turned to look at robby, he had opened up about his struggle with adamson’s death then jake and his fallout. Your mouth frowned as you opened your mouth.

“Her dad’s name is nicholas callahan..” you started, earning a look from robby as you opened up. “He was my ballet partner, he and my ex boyfriend were best friends, everyone at the studio was surprised to find out that me and him had begun dating rather than me dating nick.” You looked down at your palms, not meeting robby’s gaze.

“When everything had happened, Nick comforted me...I was a fool, he took advantage  of my grief and convinced me to sleep with him; he said it’d take the weight off..” You sighed, feeling Robby's grip tightening on your waist in anger at Lacey's father.

“When I realized I was pregnant and went to tell him…he had left for Scotland, saying he didn’t want to be stuck in one place; I told my mom I wanted to quit ballet and the reason why.” You finally looked up to see Robby's eyes of remorse.

“That dick..” Robby muttered under his breath.

“He’s only seen lovebug a few times, she knows who he is, what he does for work; and how rarely she sees him.” You began to tear up. “My ex’s family knows about the whole thing, they adore lacey.” You chuckle, looking up to see robby looking distracted behind you. 

“She really likes you y’know.” You added, noticing the far off look in robby’s eyes but brushed it off.

He absentmindedly agreed, a pain struck your heart at his actions. 

You looked over to see lacey on the monkey bars, playing chicken with another little girl. As you turned back to robby, you saw him with his phone out, typing quickly.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, robby sighed and got up from the blanket. “I need to deal with something but you and Lacey have a good picnic.” He gave a peck on your lips before giving a quick smile before running to the other side of the park, leaving you alone on the gingham blanket.

Calling lacey over you had pulled out the sandwiches and ate as lacey talked your ear off about her new friends, part of your mind listened while the other half wondered why robby left urgently.

 - - - - - - - -

Going back to the hospital after spending the weekend with robby was lonely, no help with lacey’s questions of medical things she’d hear you both talking about.

As you scanned your badge into the ICU a mix of night shift and day shift all stood together around the nurses station, watching you with wide grins. You ignored them and placed your things down before going to log into a computer.

The night doctor stared at you before sighing and walking over to your desk. “So, how was your weekend?” She asked, smiling down at you.

You chuckled as you scrolled through files from the night before. “It was good, took lovebug to the park, got into a fight at my parents studio oh and made cookies!” You listed before turning to see the pile of workers.

“You forgot your date with dr. robby!” She giggled, making your face drop. 

“What? How did you know about that?” You asked, standing up, your face feeling warm. She quickly pulled out her phone and showed you a photo.

It was of you and robby at the coffee shop, both smiling at each other almost looking like a couple, it was clearly taken across the street.

“We met up for coffee…so what?” You asked bashfully, glancing back down at your new lockscreen. She laughed and leaned against the desks. “So what? You got your biggest hater to go on a date with you!” She laughed and began to clap at you.

You quickly stopped her. “Can we stop talking about my love life in front of all the patients, please?” You asked, gesturing to the open room doors.

She sighed and waved you off. “Most are intubated or probably want to hear something other than a depressing diagnosis.” She insisted; making you sigh.

“Fine, it was a date, he may have also stayed the weekend at my place..” You smirked shyly. 

A bunch of squeals and gasps came from the ICU workers. “Are you dating?” One of the respiratory nurses asked, grinning widely. You sighed and tilted your head to think. “Umm– I’m not too sure, he hasn’t officially said..” Your words made everyone stop and stare at you.

“And he stayed over?” The night doctor asked once more, making you nod.

Quickly the excitement disbursed. “I knew he was a player..” One of them sighed, shaking their head.

“What do you mean?” you asked, watching as the ICU workers began to pick off some post it notes off the fridge, groaning at each one.

“Do I have to tell her?” The nurse sighed, earning a nod from the others. She sighed and walked over to you and rubbed your arm as she sat you down.

“There’s rumors of dr. robby dating dr. Collins and for a while the rumor was dead but… lately all the other departments have been talking about them,” She sighed, your stomach tightened before releasing. 

“Apparently, one of the girls in CT saw them snuggled up together just this past weekend at the park by that one deli shop..” She finished, watching for your reaction.

The park…the park he had suggested for you, Lacey and him go for your picnic, the park where he kissed you at–.

You sighed and shook your head. 

“Their exes so what, maybe he needs closure..” You tried to excuse, your stomach began to sink as you thought about it some more. “I need to go get some fresh air..” You quickly got up from your chair and exited the ICU.

As you passed through the pitt, you were stopped by Langdon and McKay who both smiled widely at you. “Wanna place a bet?” Langdon asked, making you look at him confused.

“What kind?” You sighed, looking around for robby, but failed.

“Rumor has it, Robby's got a girlfriend, and I'd place a bet quickly if I were you..” Langdon smiled, you froze and shook your head. “No thanks, left my wallet upstairs anyways.., hey where’s robby?” You asked, turning to mckay who shrugged and glanced around the ED.

“No ones seen him since he got in.” Dana replied, sighing as she placed her hands on her hips.

You nodded and excused yourself to go to the ambulance bay, as you stepped outside by the bush you sighed and closed your eyes.

As the feeling of bile rising slowly washed away laughter caught your attention.

Opening your eyes you froze as you saw robby with Collins by her car; both laughing together. The bile quickly rose up as you saw the look of love in robby’s eyes.

Finally leaning over, preparing as the bile rose to your throat. Looking up for a final time to see robby rubbing over Collins stomach before cupping her face with a longing look.

The EMTs nearby jumped into action as you vomited into the bush. 

One held your hair back. “Are you alright?” She asked, you nodded and took a shakily breath before wiping your mouth. “Peachy..” You sighed, watching robby and collins off in their own world.

You stood up before walking back into the ED, rushing to the nearest bathroom. Thankfully being a single stall, you locked the door and bent over the sink.

Once again you had been taken as a fool; thinking a man would love you with no bad intention; was him being sweet to lacey just to get you to sleep with him faster.

Sighing, you glanced in the bathroom’s mirror and fixed the stray hairs as tears began to form. Silently crying as you perfected yourself.

Rolling back your shoulders you sighed and wiped away the tears. You stared at yourself before walking back out. As you exited the bathroom, Langdon laughed and shook you by your shoulders. “I won the bet, I knew him and Collins were together again!” He laughed.

You looked over to where the group of ED workers all cheered for the pair.

Among the workers, robby found your eyes, watching as they went from lovingly to sharp. He went to excuse himself but you had been faster as you slipped to the staff elevators with a blank expression.

 - - - - - - - -

The ICU had noticed the subtle shift of your personality; it was only seen on your worst days.

Everyone had quietly spoken about it. You had been snippy with any ED call, denying any bed space and allowing any OR patients the bed first. 

While on a cafeteria run, you walked through the ED, ignoring the gaze stuck on your back.

As you passed a curtained room, someone calling your name made you stop. You turned and opened the curtain and begged for your day to be over or to keel over and be bedridden.

“Nick..” You sighed, fixing the end of your jacket, feeling insecure around him; Nick the man your whole family hated, the man your heart still had affection for, Lacey's father.

He sighed at the sight of you.

“You still look pretty as always.” he smiled, admiring as you looked around the room. “What are you here for?” You asked, avoiding his gaze.

“Got trampled by some folks during a fire drill.” He explained, smirking at you. “Are you my doctor?” He smiled charmingly at you.

As you opened your mouth to speak the curtain was pulled back to show robby, collins and santos.

You saw robby and shut your mouth before turning to nick. “I got bumped upstairs, better patients and doctors.” You told him, using santos as a shield from robby walking closer to you. 

“These will be your doctors, dr. Collins, dr. santos and…dr. robinavitch.” You motioned to the three, seeing robby’s hurt expression from the corner of your eye.

“You still have my number right, let me see you and lovebug this weekend?” He asked, you turned and noticed robby’s furrowed brows at the patient.

“My apartment’s still the same.” You told Nick before walking to the elevators, leaving Robby to brew in his anger.

robby taglist!! @nerdgirljen @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @evans-dejong @lovebuggyies @snowflames-world @whimsicalfungiforager @itschelseacisneros @kmc1989 @foolishseven @rhysology @delicatetrashtree @equallyshaw @qardasngan @fallout-girl219 @dantemorenatalie @18lkpeters @ohmystrawberrycheesecake @blackblueberries @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @isla-finke-blog @baileythepenguin

[youreonmymind37]

I’m in love with my biological daddy. He protects me, nurtures me, treats me like a lady. In our bed, my daddy treat me like his slut. In sophomore year, I and my friends were in a random club, dancing and flirting with the college boys. A striking handsome gentleman was standing by the bar. Of course, the man was entertained a flocks of chicks.

“He is a professor,” one of my BBF said, “And, he got piecing hazel eyes on you, Regina.”

The Professor made a bees-line towards me. “Don’t I know you?”

“Lame pick-up,” I said.

He laughed. Every other guys were tucking his tail beneath his hind legs.

“You resemble a college girl way back in time,” my daddy said, “Please to meet you. Samuel Griffith.”

He hold up his hand.

“Um….” I swallowed.

My best friend said, “This is my bestie, Regina.”

He took my hand. “What a peculiar name, Reggie.” He kissed my wrist. “I had a professor named Reginald”.

I don’t know why I was mesmerized by this man. He told the funniest and sweet stories. He bought us drinks. He even brushed my lock out of my face.

And, the way that he kissed me is… ooff! Raw and delicious both at the same time.

My daddy is a gently dominant stag and I’m his submissive slut.

We found out the connection between us through my mom. She was in grad school working with a younger Sammy. They fucked in the library aisles, in his cramped studio and in his compact car.

Then, my mom got a call from the French professor in Sorbonne in Paris. And, my mom flew away from my biological daddy.

“Ah,” said my daddy, “That’s why I recognized you, Reggie. Because you look like your mother did in college.”

I hugged him in our bed in the mountain chalet. “Daddy, let’s make love like a daughter and her dad.”

“You mean it?” said Sammy.

“Yes,” I whispered, “fuck me like a naughty princess.”

He scooped me up and put his cock up my wet and ravishing snatch.

“Oh, daddy. I’m lucky to find you in my college—Oh, fuck!—and, I love you both as a generous lover and my sweet dad.”

He kissed me so passionately up and down my face, neck and breasts.

“Too bad for mom. Because, you’re a—“ My daddy hit my g-stop and I was orgasm galore.

Once I calmed down. We resumed our fucked marathon.

“—You’re a patient and loving dominant,” I sad.

“I try,” said my daddy with a nonchalant smile.

After we lounged around in my hot tub. “Tell me more about your fascination with my mom.”

“Well, she was stubborn, sweet, fierce and…. Well, another...”

“Tell me!” I smacked the water in front him. My dad had a wrestling match with me. He pinned me to his six-pack abdomen.

“Uncle! Uncle!” I said playfully.

“Your mom had the technical to blow-job any guy that’s around.”

I must had blushed.

“You’re beautiful when you blush,” said daddy, “I think I hear my hardened cock brush against your thigh. I could be wrong…”

“Daddy!” I said, “your bandit is going up my twat!”

“So, it is,” my Sammy grunting.

“Oh,” hanging on my daddy’s shoulders and moaning softly.

Later that evening, we were comfortably by the blanket and by the fire. And, each other.

“I’m thinking about our relationship. Your mother can vilified me and argued against our love affair. She had found her studies compelling and a little happiness. But. You andI love each other. Both as family and lovers. I love you, Reggie.”

“I love you, too, daddy.”

He kissed me. “Good.”

I lay down on our blanket. My dad covered me with his body, his kissed, his aura and his enormous cock.

We make love till the dawn.

“Good girl, Reggie….”

I was moaning to hear my daddy compliments me.

[daechwitatamic]

You Think You Might - Chapter 5 || csc

(banner by @itaeewon)

You Think You Might (masterpost)

Seungcheol x fem!reader angst smut fluff fake dating!au, kind of sort of exes to lovers?

NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Seungcheol agrees to be your fake boyfriend at your sister’s destination wedding, under the condition that it “stays there”. You didn’t expect it to hurt when he holds you to that promise.

WC: 54k across 5 chapters; this chapter 8k

Status: complete; this is the final chapter

Warnings: language, excessive drinking and drunkenness, i did make seungcheol cry just once and i'm not sorry, reader continuing to go thru it, angst, kissing, oral (f. receiving), piv sex, the teeeensiest tiniest bit of barely there ass play do not even LOOK at me i dont know who wrote that, reader says if you demand to be on my island then i am getting OFF the island and we all should have seen it coming

A/N: thank you to @sailorsoons and @eoieopda for beta-ing and to @kkaetnipjeon for naming almost every background character for me

October

When your phone rings at 1:20 in the morning, it feels like a stone sinks through your stomach. Some instinct knows what this is before you even read his name on the screen. Like part of you has been waiting since early summer for him to break, afraid of your own reaction, afraid you’ll do the wrong thing and let him.

“What’s up?” you answer, which strikes you as funny, because it’s the middle of the night and you’re half-asleep. Nothing about this is casual - this isn’t going to be a call about grabbing extra beer for Soonyoung’s house. 

“Come drink with me.”

Four words, and you know everything you need to know. The background noise is deafening - thumping, shattering club music and the cacophony of dozens of conversations being carried at a volume meant to rise above the music. 

The words are also slurred nearly past recognizability. 

He’s fucked up. 

Going to him would be a mistake.

But you want to. You want to. 

You’re already moving towards your closet in the dark.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” you ask sarcastically, even as you reach the lamp on your dresser and switch it on, casting your room in a low yellow light. You pick out a pair of jeans and a sweater - you won’t be staying at the club with him, you don’t need to dress up. You’ll tell security you’re just getting someone home - they’ll let you through.

“Wish I knew,” he says darkly. “Actually, no I don’t. If I did, I’d go there. Promised my mom no more fights.”

He sounds so gone. Your heart wrings itself out like laundry fresh from the wash, water and blood pouring from it. You ache for him, want to pull him close, want to soothe the hurts. You pull the sweater on quickly. 

“Did you argue again?” you ask, mostly to keep him talking while you get ready. You poke around your room for a wayward sneaker.

He laughs, once, no humor in it. “Worst we’ve ever had. She took her shit this time.”

“Seungcheol,” you say, all pity. “I’m sorry.”

“Come drink with me,” he answers, more firmly this time. He sounds a bit more lucid, like answering your questions tethered him back to now. “I hate being alone.”

You tuck in your laces and grab your keys. “I know you do,” you say softly. “Send me your location.”

As expected, you tell the bouncer you’re just here to get your friend out of there and he lets you inside, even asks if you think you’ll need help.

“Nah,” you say easily. “He’ll come with me.”

It takes some effort to move through the crowd until you reach the bar, but Seungcheol is there, an empty glass in front of him, and his chin propped up on his hand, his eyes unfocused.

You slide in the seat next to him - miraculously empty - and order yourself a beer and a water for him. You don’t talk to him until they’ve arrived, until you’ve watched him down a third of the water.

“Why am I here, Seungcheol?” you ask him, finally, quiet. You’re not sure how much of him is present right now, not sure what kind of answer you’ll get.

But he seems to have come back around since he first called you, because his answer is, “Aren’t we supposed to be friends?”

“Is that why you called me? Because you needed a friend?” you ask. It’s a dangerous question; it’s a dare. It’s a challenge, it’s a first expression of this fucked-up limbo the two of you have tried to maintain. It’s a mistake that you can’t stop yourself from making, the inertia carrying you even when you know you should swerve. 

You’re lucky - he’s not too far gone to know exactly what game you’re playing, and to remember he’s not supposed to play. 

“I called you,” he says, dark eyes flashing up to yours, “because I didn’t want to sit here alone. I wanted to be… with someone good. Good to me.”

The words are unsteady, wobbly, but you think they might still be a version of the truth.

There are a lot of things you could say back to that, and they all jump into your mouth at once. But you’re supposed to be staying off the boat, right?

“Drink your water,” you tell him, and something in your tone must tell him not to fuck with you, because he listens. When you’ve both finished - you, your single beer, and him, the entire glass of water - you tell him, “Let’s go home.”

He rises without a fuss, and you lead him by the hand through the noisy throngs of people and out inside the silent, chilly night. His hand in yours is warm, clinging to you so tightly it almost hurts.

You drive him back to his place in near silence. He only speaks to mutter two-word directions at you - turn left and next exit and this one.

You take his keys from his hand and lead him across the parking lot to his building’s door, realizing halfway there that he’s stopped following you. You turn, finding him standing in the middle of the parking lot, unmoving.

Hesitantly, you make your way back toward him. 

“Cheol?” you venture, and when he turns to you, his face is twisted, a storm in his eyes. 

His voice doesn’t even sound like him - choked and raspy and loud - when he asks you, “Why does she do this to me?” He swipes a closed fist across his eyes, the picture of misery.

You close the space between you and gather him in your arms; drunk and broken, he lets you. You hold him steady as he cries into your shoulder, his own hands coming to clutch desperately at your back, like you’re the only thing holding him down in the face of a hurricane.

You hold him as long as he needs, the two of you alone in the middle of the pavement, the night expanding silent and blue around you. 

When he gives a final shaky exhale and loosens his hold on your back, you let him step away, your hands falling to your sides. You watch his face carefully as he roughly scrubs at his cheeks with the heels of his hands. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, embarrassed. 

You shake your head, don’t be, but don’t speak. You don’t know the right thing to say; you don’t know if he’s in the right place to hear you.

You’ve never been to his place before, so he leads you inside, taking an unnaturally long time to get his key in the lock. You don’t offer to help, knowing he doesn’t need you to baby him right now, doesn’t need you to make him feel like he can’t do it.

Inside, he clicks on the lights and stumbles through a dark doorway that you assume must lead to his bedroom. You look around for a second - it’s neater than you expected, but looks lived in. There’s a hoodie thrown over the back of a kitchen chair, and a lone mug in the kitchen sink waiting to be washed. You open a few cabinets until you find glasses, and you fill one with water. Then you follow the sounds of thumps through his still-dark bedroom and into the brightly lit en-suite.

Seungcheol looks at you like he’s not sure where you came from, the toothbrush stilling in his mouth.

“Water,” you explain, needlessly, and he nods, still looking a bit baffled. 

You wait in his bedroom until he flicks off the bathroom light and stumbles out and straight into his bed. You set the water down on his bedside table and back away.

“You good?” you ask. You mean, mostly, are you going to throw up in your sleep, or can I leave? 

He pulls the blankets over his head, then pushes one eye out and looks at your blearily.

“There are three of you,” he says seriously, his low voice muffled by the thick blankets.

“All three of us will be on the couch if you need… help, or anything,” you deadpan.

He’s too drunk to appreciate the joke. That one visible eyeball just stares at you, and then he mutters, “Is it fucked up that I missed you?”

You huff a tiny laugh.

“Goodnight, Seungcheol,” you say, instead of answering. “Yell if you need me.”

He only hums, not really an answer, but you’ll take it. You close his bedroom door behind you and survey his living room. You turn on a low lamp and then cross the room to turn off the brighter overhead lights. You get comfortable, scrunching up the throw pillow under your head and pulling a blanket from the back of the couch. 

You thought you’d have trouble sleeping here, alone in a place you’ve never been, but the blanket smells like him, and you feel safe knowing he’s on the other side of the door, and it doesn’t take long at all before you’re drifting off.

You’re woken up mid-morning by a body draping itself heavily over your side, then sliding behind you to slip between you and the back of the couch. His arm rests on top of you, his hand on your shoulder.

You giggle before you even open your eyes. “Hello?” you ask, trying to peer over your shoulder, but Seungcheol holds your shoulder tight, stopping the motion.

“You can’t look at me,” he says seriously, his voice sleepy and soft. “I’m too ashamed.”

You laugh again.

“I am seriously so sorry,” he says, still hiding behind you. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you relax against him, smiling despite yourself. The room is lit up brightly from the morning sun, the lamp you had on last night now turned off. “For calling you… for making you come out in the middle of the night… for everything I said… for…”

For breaking down. You hear it even though he doesn’t say it.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” you tell him quietly, reaching up to rest your hand on top of his where it rests on your shoulder. “If I didn’t want to come out, I wouldn’t have. And you don’t need to apologize for… feeling how you feel, or for letting me be there for you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“This is very embarrassing for me,” he mumbles against your head.

You roll over so you can face him, and he lets you. You look up at him, trying to reconcile the sheepish man in front of you to the broken one you saw last night. It occurs to you, as you lay chest to chest with him on the couch, that this is the closest you’ve been since you slept together in July.

You hate how right it feels - no awkwardness, no uncertainty.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed,” you whisper.

His mouth twists like he doesn’t quite see it the same way. “Thanks for getting me home,” he says, instead of arguing or agreeing. “At… two in the morning.”

You shrug one shoulder, very aware of how dangerously close to cuddling you are, as he places his arm over your back, his hand resting near your shoulder blades. “It makes me happy that you felt comfortable calling me when you needed someone,” you tell him. “I’m glad I could be there for you.” It might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him.

It had - it had made you happy to take care of him the way he’d taken care of you at that resort. It made you happy to be the one that he let in, who got to see him when he wasn’t put together.

It might be complicated, but it’s still true. You’re happy to be here.

You lay there - yes, cuddling, technically - for a little bit, and then you look at him again. His gaze is warm this morning, full of affection and gratitude.

“Hey…” you say, unsure if this is the right move, “I know you asked me to, like, stay out of it. And I’ve been trying to. But… can I ask you something?”

He sighs a little, pressing his hands to his eyes for a moment before looking at you again. The movement cracks the cuddle, and you push yourself up to sitting. He does the same, so that you’re side to side and upright again. 

“Yeah,” he relents. “I guess you have the right, after last night.”

“Why stay?” you ask him earnestly. “Why keep trying, when all of us - including both of you - know how it’s going to go?”

“Because,” he says darkly, averting his eyes.

“Because isn’t a reason,” you point out.

He huffs, frustrated, but you wait him out. “I just… want to prove that… it could work. That I’m not… so fucked up that it can’t.”

You put a hand on his knee, and his eyes flick to yours.

“I can solve that one for you: you’re not. And it sucks that she made you feel like you are.”

“It’s not all her fault,” he mumbles.

“No,” you agree. “It really isn’t. But, Seungcheol, if a couple works, it’s not about their worthiness, it’s not the universe deciding they’re good enough. It’s about the two people involved, and their willingness to put pride aside and try - to communicate, and make sacrifices, and fight for it. And I know you’re capable of all that - because when you were pretending, you were perfect. More than perfect.”

His face softens, those flickers of anger and defensiveness falling away. You sit in silence, looking at each other, the air between you charged and full of tension so thick you could sink your fingers into it like a ball of dough.

The ugliest part of you, hidden way down deep, rises up and whispers, choose me. 

You hate this selfish voice, hate yourself for wanting this even after everything, but you can’t silence the part of you that’s pleading for him to realize he’s been chasing his tail in circles, to realize that he has an option in front of him that could be great if he gave it a chance.

You force yourself up, breaking the spell, going silently to find your keys and your shoes. 

Still, even as he watches you go, the want claws up your stomach, through your limbs, into your fingertips. 

You pause in the entryway, looking back at him. For a long moment, his eyes stay locked on yours, pinning you to the spot.

You clench your jaw to shove down the words, but they flow through your gaze straight to his anyway.

Choose me. Choose me. Please, choose me. 

From the way he sits still on the couch, you think he must hear your plea. You think he must be considering. You finally break eye contact, giving him a tight nod and turning away. Then you close the door behind you, leaving him alone with the choice.

The next weekend at Soonyoung and Chan’s, Seungcheol isn’t present.

The realization goes through you like ice, your heart skipping and galloping with all the implications of it.

“Ah, yeah,” your brother says, when you ask. “He and Jieun went away for the weekend. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

You turn away as casually as you can, trying to school your features. The news hits you like a punch.

He and Jieun. He picked her. 

He picked her, and took her away for a romantic trip to solidify it. It makes you nauseous. You’d been trying to accept this truth - that she would always win - and yet somehow you’re still surprised. 

Stupid. Stupid.

Fine, you think, taking a slow breath in to calm your systems. It’s fine. You wanted him to choose, and he did. Now you know for sure. Now it can be over.

And it has to be - over. You can’t do this again. You can’t open up and let him in just to watch him slip back to her again. Not again.

It sucks, but you don’t feel like you can talk to Soonyoung about this. Not because he wouldn’t hear you, or support you. But at the end of the day, Seungcheol has been his friend for a long time - you don’t want to put him in the middle, or in an uncomfortable spot. 

You sit on it for a few days, and then you crack and do something you’ve never done in your whole life.

You call your sister. Just to talk.

“Hey!” she greets you brightly, like she’s pleasantly surprised to hear from you. Which is fair. “What’s going on?”

“Not a lot,” you lie. “How about you?”

“Same ‘ol, same ‘ol,” she sighs, not unhappily. “Jeongwoo is on a work trip until tomorrow night, so I’m sitting here having a sleepover night by myself - painting my nails, binging some Real Housewives, and drinking wine.”

“Sounds amazing,” you say.

“Feel free to join me,” she says, and you hear the smile in her voice. You wonder if you could ever get there - to the point where you’d even consider that offer from her, to the point where you’d want to go hang out with her.

The idea of it sounds kind of nice.

“Maybe next time,” you say, and you almost mean it.

“What’s going on with you?” she asks.

“Seungcheol called me drunk from the bar at one in the morning on Saturday,” you blurt. It bursts from you, unbidden, though you know that unburdening yourself of this was the whole reason you called.

“Oh my god, what?” she breathes. “Did you answer?”

You laugh. “You don’t even know what a silly question that is,” you say, and it doesn’t occur to you that you’re just saying ‘you don’t know me at all’, but you are. “Not only did I answer, I went to pick him up and drive him home, and then I slept on his couch to make sure he didn’t die of alcohol poisoning.”

Nayoung swears. “You two are messy messy,” she says, and you laugh, because - yeah. “Where’s his girlfriend?”

“Oh,” you say. “Yeah, that’s an important detail. They had a fight and she turned off her location, which is why he went off the rails at the bar in the first place.”

“Okay,” Nayoung says, and you can almost picture her holding up a hand to stop you. “Back up and start at the beginning. Tell me everything.” 

You do, starting with his phone call that night, ending with his absence at Soonyoung’s last Friday, the indication that he’d taken Jieun on a romantic weekend away, that he’d heard what you’d said and made his choice definitively.

“Oh,” she says as soon as you’re done, the word rushing from her, “he wants you so bad.”

“What?” This is not the reaction you’d expected. This is also the opposite of how you see the situation.

“He got sad and called you,” she points out. “He needed comfort and he turned to you. To me, that says a lot.”

You hum. “I don’t know. He called me because he was drunk and the girl he wanted had him blocked.”

“I don’t think so,” she says. “I think some part of him knew you were a safe place to turn to.”

Someone good to me. 

You let out your breath, frustrated. “What does that do for me?” you demand. “He chose her!”

“I don’t know,” she says. “He’s gotta figure it out sooner or later, that you’re what he wants - right?”

“You’d think,” you mutter sarcastically.

“He’ll be back,” she says, sounding sure. “He’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t think I care, though,” you say. “Even if he did… he’s picked her over me too many times. I don’t want to be his second choice, I don’t want to always wonder if he’d rather be with her.”

“Well,” she says, “I know I haven’t been married that long, but my advice as someone with a very solid relationship - if I do say so myself - is to just ask him how he feels about it… and trust what he tells you.”

You don’t respond, your lips pressed tight together. Because you don’t - can’t - trust him to mean it when he says he’s done with her. He’s switched up on you too many times. He could tell you day in and day out that it’s you, but you will always feel Jieun’s shadow hovering behind you. There’s no way around it.

You think you might hate her, and that makes you sad, too - because it’s not even her fault.

It’s pouring on the night that Seungcheol shows up at your door - the kind of rain that comes down only sideways, soaking your feet, hair, and even through your jeans in some spots in the short time it takes you to dash from your car to the building’s front door.

You’re still wiping water from your face, shaking it from your sleeves, trying to tame your damp hair when you round the corner to your hall and spot him outside your door.

Your stomach sinks immediately, instinct and past experience telling you that he and Jieun fought again, that the merry-go-round has brought him to the come to you for comfort phase of the cycle once again. 

You’re tired - tired of fighting how you feel for him, tired of feeling guilty for wanting someone that’s not yours, tired of feeling pathetic for wanting someone who doesn’t want you, tired of picking him up every time he comes crawling to you low and angry. 

But you approach him anyway - what else can you do? It’s your apartment.

When he turns to face you, you’re so surprised that you actually falter in your steps, tripping over nothing and having to right yourself.

He looks happy - he looks good, and somehow himself in a way you haven’t seen since Nayoung’s wedding over the summer. There’s no storm behind his eyes, no crease in his brow, no heavy weight to the corners of his mouth, no tightness to his jaw or heaviness on his shoulders.

“Hi?” you venture.

His smile crawls across his face, dimples deepening by tiny degrees at a time. It takes your breath away - you hadn’t realized it, but you haven’t seen him happy like this in so long. He’s beautiful. You miss this version of him. 

“Hey,” he says, dimples deepening. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” you say, digging out your keys. “Is everything okay?”

“Very,” he says, emphatically but cryptically. 

You raise an eyebrow at him and cross your arms.

He laughs, like you’re being cute. It makes you scowl, but it also makes your stomach flutter. “Can we talk inside? This isn’t really a… hallway conversation.”

You give him a wary look and move past him to unlock the door. He follows you inside and hovers behind you as you flick on lights and set down your things. You’re still water-logged from the rain, and you cross into your bedroom to change into something dry. Seungcheol hangs back in your living room, patiently waiting for you to emerge.

“Okay,” you say, “what’s up?”

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. Something crosses his face - uncertainty, maybe. He steps closer, hands reaching for your elbows. You let him draw you closer, into the circle of his warmth, his smell, his solidity. You look up at him, a question in your eyes.

“I have to just say it,” he says, almost to himself, almost like a reprimand. Like he’s giving himself a pep talk. “I want to try with you. I want to do it for real.”

You stare at him, eyes wide. Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. 

“Seungcheol, what?” You’re almost convinced that you heard him wrong, or that you’re misunderstanding what he’s saying. Your brain whirs as it tries to process, to find the slip-up.

He shifts closer, your bodies almost touching, and you tip your head up to keep his face in your line of sight. 

His voice lowers, softens, turns into something private and pleading. “I know we could be good together. Give me a chance to prove it. I didn’t think I could do it, before. But.. I can. I will.”

Somehow his hands have gone from your elbows to your upper arms, your bodies inching closer and closer like drifting continents, coming closer so slowly it’s impossible to see the movement.

You manage to speak, your words stumbling over each other. “But - Jieun?”

He shakes his head. “Gone,” he says firmly. Your stomach swoops, but the feeling of elation is chased immediately by a dark wave of doubt. “For good. I’m not doing that shit anymore. I’m not…” he trails off, thinking, then calls back a conversation you’d had months ago, on a sandy beach hundreds of miles away - “…accepting an ending that’s less than what I want.”

“I don’t understand,” you breathe. 

“I want to really try with someone who will actually try with me. I like you. So, please. Let’s try.”

Your heart races so fast that you feel a little dizzy as you consider his offer. You’re afraid of him hurting you again, changing his mind again. You’re afraid of accepting him and then letting him down, making him regret it all. You’re afraid of him becoming just another person who gets tired of you and walks away. 

But your feelings for him haven’t dissipated at all over these months, no matter how firmly you’ve tried to store them away. You want to feel close to him again. Very little in your life has felt as safe as being close to Seungcheol feels. 

You want to feel good again, too.

Your bodies are touching now, his arms fully around you, your faces so close you could kiss him without reaching. 

“Give me a chance,” he murmurs, his eyes tracing your face.

“I’ll give you a night,” you breathe, nearly against his lips. “We can go from there.”

His arms close around you instantly, his mouth finding yours - this was all the permission he needed. You melt into him, hands sliding up his back, already beneath the hem of his shirt, seeking skin, seeking warmth, seeking him. 

The way he clings to you as he kisses you makes you wonder if he’s been missing this, too - if you aren’t the only one whose single dose failed as a cure, only left you wanting.

You peel his shirt over his head slowly, reveling in every line and ridge of muscle as they are exposed one by one. You feel possessive of him, suddenly, want to carve your name across his ribs, want to make sure no one forgets that you were here, that at least for this moment he was only yours.

He does the same, making quick work of the hoodie that you’d just pulled on, tossing it towards the couch. He smirks a little when he spots the lacy edges of your bra - thank god, thank god you’d picked a cute one today - and remarks, “Pretty,” before pinching the clasp open with one hand and discarding it in the same direction that your hoodie and tshirt had just gone.

He kisses you again, hot and deep and seeking, as his hands find and knead your breasts firmly, something possessive in his touch - like, once again, you match. Your knees go a little weak and you lean into him, a wanting sound slipping up your throat and disappearing into his open mouth. 

His thumbs brush your nipples once and the sound turns into a whine. He breaks the kiss long enough to tease, “What? Not enough?”

Never enough, you think. You’ll always want more of him.

“Feels nice,” you tell him, in a whisper.

You kiss him again as your hands fumble with his belt buckle. His jeans drop to the floor and he steps out of them, his eyes closing on an audible sigh when you palm him over the black briefs he’s wearing. He’s hot under your hand, a small patch already damp beneath your palm.

“Get rid of those,” he instructs as he steps away from you, pulling at his own socks. He nods at your lower half as clarification and you pull off your leggings, leaving only the matching bottoms to your bra. You hook your thumbs under the edge of the lace, but he reaches out to stop you.

“Leave that,” he says, his eyes shining and devilish. 

He lays you back across the couch and settles between your thighs, all mischief and anticipation, and then he licks a warm stripe up the center of the lace. You reach over your head and clutch at the arm of the couch, trying desperately to keep it together as he hooks a thumb under the lace and pulls them gently to the side, exposing you to the cool air of the room and his own hungry gaze. You moan loud, eyes squeezing shut, as he dives back in.

He slides two fingers into your heat and your back arches as his name slips between your lips. He returns his tongue to you as his fingers open you bit by bit, whimpers and gasps replacing the silence in the room. He grunts when you lose control and buck once, then uses his free hand to splay his fingers across your lower belly to hold you still.

The snap happens before you expect it, almost without warning. The heat blossoms from your stomach down to your toes, and you chant his name as the waves roll through you, demanding your attention. 

“Shit,” he growls, fingers still moving, his mouth an inch away from your pulsing center. “Fuck, I feel you, baby.”

When you finally unclench, the room spinning around you as you gasp for breath, he slips his fingers from you and crawls up your body, his mouth seeking yours. You barely register that you can taste yourself on him; all you can process is the need to cling to him as you come back to earth, the need to know he’s surrounding you, solidly between you and the rest of reality.

“Please,” you hear yourself say, though you didn’t make the decision to beg. He obliges, doesn’t tease you for it, just lines himself up and slides into you in one slow, unfaltering motion. 

Your hips tilt on their own, taking him just slightly deeper; you gasp against his mouth, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to hold on, trying to hold him still, trying to climb inside him. 

He presses his forehead to yours, both of you panting, his arms caging you in as he fucks in and out of you slowly, letting you adjust to the stretch. It’s a lot, but it’s so good, and it isn’t long before you’re moving with him, meeting each thrust, your legs tangled behind his waist to pull him in closer.

You let go of his shoulders and cup his face with both hands, pulling his mouth back to yours tenderly. 

You think you might be halfway in love with him. That’s been your whole problem all along.

“Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, lips on your jaw.

You pull back and slip two fingers into your mouth, eyes on his as you wet them. You smirk when his face twists, his stroke faltering for just a second, and then bring your fingers between your legs.

“How are you real?” he groans, his pace quickening. You feel yourself shake slightly each time he pushes back into you. 

When he stops, pressed so deep inside you that it steals your breath, you look up at him inquisitively. Sweat beads on his forehead, and he reaches up to push his hair back from his face.

He doesn’t answer your unvoiced question, just slides out of you and stands, reaching for your hands to pull you up after him. He kisses you messily, hungrily, pulling you tight against his body. His cock is trapped between your bodies, hot and slippery against your lower stomach. He ignores this, holding you desperately, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll get ripped away. A detached part of your brain wonders what fear is behind the tightness of his grip.

Then he’s moving with renewed energy, turning you by your shoulders and pressing between them, leaning you over the arm of the couch, one hand sliding down your spine and resting on the small of your back. You cry out wordlessly when he slides into you again, the new position bringing him deeper than before, stars sparking before your eyes. 

He grips your hips tightly, using the leverage to pound into you with a force he hadn’t earlier, or back in July. All you can do is take it, eyes screwed shut, wailing wordlessly and trying to press your face into your arms to muffle the noise. 

“Too much?” he manages to ask you, the words slipped between breaths, his voice tight with effort.

You can’t form an answer, can’t make your mouth shape no, it’s perfect, so you shake your head wildly. You think you might die if he stops.

Seungcheol slows anyway, soothing a hand down your back again, giving you a chance to relax your muscles and take a deep breath. He sets a steady pace, far less brutal than a moment ago, and you reach back to run a hand up the back of his thigh, just wanting to touch him. He reaches down with one hand and tangles his fingers with yours, giving a single reassuring squeeze before dropping them again.

Your thighs are shaking constantly now, and your voice comes out thin when you try to warn him you’re close.

“Yeah?” he croons, and then you feel the gentle pressure of his thumb ghost over your rim before circling it more firmly. 

You lose it entirely; you think you scream. Everything goes white and then staticky. You’re dimly aware of Seungcheol growling your name, pulling out, splattering your ass with strings of hot cum.

You cooperate when he maneuvers you back onto the couch, laying on his back and pulling you onto his front, your hearts both beating wildly against one another, like they’re both trying to break through your ribs and reach the other. 

“Shit,” you whisper, when you feel like you’re in your body again. He chuckles warmly beneath you, reaching up to run a hand down your arm affectionately. 

“You good?” he asks, voice gravelly. 

“Mhm,” you manage, though you’re already starting to feel soreness everywhere - in your hips, between your legs, even in your lower belly. “You wanna shower?”

“Definitely,” he says, and helps you up, follows you into the bathroom. Soaps you up gently, kisses your head while you rinse. It’s frighteningly tender, and you find yourself struggling to look directly at him.

Something inside you feels like you should run.

When you’re dry, he asks you tentatively, “Should I go home?”

Probably, you think. Before I get in even deeper. 

But you’re already in so deep. You haven’t slept next to him in months. You crave it just as much as what you’ve just done. So you tell him, “I don’t mind if you stay. If you want to.”

In the dark, you lie facing each other, your head resting on his mountain of a bicep. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispers.

That I’m not going to be enough to make you stay, you think.

“That I’m going to need to soak in a hot bath tomorrow,” you lie.

You wake up between his arms, your room bright with early morning sun. You let yourself revel in it for only a moment, and then you slip out of the bed as quietly as you can. Silently, you start dressing. 

You’re hunting for your shoes when he wakes, squinting at you adorably, a pout on his face.

“Come back,” he whines, and you almost cave. You don’t answer, and this seems to be what alerts him that something is wrong. He’s fully awake, quickly, his eyes sharp on you as he throws off your blanket and stands.

You step back as he comes closer, and you hate that you recognize a flash of hurt crossing his face.

“I need to go,” you say quietly, and you can hear the cornered-animal fear in your voice, hate that it’s evident.

“Why?” he asks, his voice just as raw as it had been the night he’d cried over her, less than a month ago.

You shake your head, the words in your head scrambled and unfocused. 

“Talk to me,” he begs, trying to step closer again. You let him, this time. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” you manage, but your voice is choked, and the second you hear it the dam inside you cracks. You blink away tears and step back from him again as he tries to reach for you. “I just can’t do this. I can’t let you in and then watch you leave for her again.”

His brows scrunch with confusion. “Leave for - who? Jieun? That’s not -”

“You just ended things with her,” you point out, interrupting. “You were away with her on a romantic little trip last fucking weekend. You’re not over her, and every time you think you are you just go running right back and I can’t be the collateral damage even one more time, Seungcheol - please, I think it’ll kill me to lose you to her again.”

“I went away with her last weekend to tell her goodbye,” he says, voice hushed, like he doesn’t want to spook you. “She and I talked for a long time about… us. We agreed - we put that part of our lives away for good.”

You shake your head again, letting this speak for you, because you feel like it would be cruel to say I don’t believe you… even if it’s true.

He steps closer again, finally within reach. He places one hand on your arm, gingerly, like he wants to root you to the spot but knows to tread lightly. “It’s not you or her,” he tells you earnestly. “It never was.”

A scoff escapes you without permission.

“Please listen to me,” he says again. It occurs to you that he could be angry, could be flying to the defensive, could be turning this into a fight. Instead, he’s being gentle - hearing what you’re telling him and talking about it. A tiny part of you is proud, knows this takes effort on his part, knows he’s had to unlearn how he once would have reacted.

“I’m listening,” you whisper. It’s all you can give him right now.

“She and I haven’t really loved each other in… a long time. That’s one of the things we talked about last weekend. We were both just… trying to keep a dead thing alive, because that hurt less than admitting it wasn’t going to wake up. I’m not going to suddenly realize I miss her, or that being with her was better. There’s a zero percent chance of that - less than zero.”

“Less than zero percent can’t exist,” you croak, just to be contrary.

“Well it does in this case,” he shoots back, lips starting to pout a little. “I’m not saying you and I will be magically perfect, but I can promise that if we don’t work for some reason, she will not be the cause.”

You want to believe him - you ache to believe him. 

You wipe under your eyes, trying to get yourself put together. Seungcheol watches your face carefully.

Then he says, very quietly, “We work. You know we do.”

“We worked when it was pretend,” you rebut. 

He says your name, a demand hidden in it - a demand to listen, to hear him. 

“You’re what I need,” he says firmly. “I need someone who won’t rise to the bait if I slip and fuck up and say something stupid. I need someone who wants me to be happy, not just someone who wants me to make them happy. And I want so many things for you - I want to make life easier for you, I want you to feel loved and valued, I want to do all of that for you. I want to do shit for you that I never did before, like double text and call first and apologize even when I don’t think I’m wrong.”

He’s teasing a little by the end, and you laugh through your tears despite yourself. 

“Seungcheol, I don’t know,” you tell him. “How can you be sure?”

He takes your hands, grips your fingers tight. “I want to do this right with you,” he says plainly. “I want you, and I want to really try. The way I feel about you… it makes me want to believe in happily ever after and all that other shit. Being with you makes me feel like maybe it’s not totally impossible.”

As gently as you can, you pull your hands away. “I don’t know,” you repeat hollowly. “I… I need some time to think about it.”

You step away and he lets you, his hands falling uselessly to his sides. 

“It’s not no,” you tell him, the only comfort you can offer him, nothing more. “I just… please, I need to think.”

You leave him in your apartment, don’t even wait to let him out. With shaking hands, you unlock your car and get in, scarcely breathing until the apartment building has disappeared from view.

Then, you drive to your sister’s house.

–

Her husband answers the door, the first time you’ve seen him since the wedding. He looks surprised - understandable, because you’ve never been there before, never ever just showed up, and also it’s probably very clear that you’ve been crying.

He greets you by name, but the shock in his voice makes you feel so guilty that you whisper, “I can come back another time, I can give her a call first -”

“No,” he cuts you off. There’s something you can’t name in his tone. “I’m - I think she’ll be really glad you came. Please come in.”

It isn’t a formal please, come in, that you’d give to someone as a pleasantry. He means, please, come inside and talk to your sister, please, come in so she can see that you came here for her. 

You hear it loud and clear. You wonder if Nayoung has felt as rejected by you as you’ve felt by her, over the years. 

Nayoung rises when she sees you enter the room, her face flashing from surprised to concerned.

“What happened?” she asks, as she rounds the corner of her couch, already coming to hug you.

And you let her. You open your arms and step into her embrace, because despite the way you’d grown up, she’s here now and she’s trying and you think you might like having her in your life.

“I slept with Seungcheol last night,” you tell her miserably.

Behind you, Jeongwoo says uncomfortably, “Um, I’m going to run to the store. I’ll get ice cream.”

Nayoung lifts her head to make eye contact with him over your shoulder and he adds, “And wine.”

On your sister’s couch, you tell her everything - almost everything. The way Seungcheol had disappeared, how you’d assumed he was choosing Jieun for good. How he’d shown up, had asked you to try, had laid his heart out for you.

How you’d run.

It makes you cry all over again. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit through your tears. “I know what I want to do. But there’s so many what if’s…”

“There always are,” she says seriously. “There are no guarantees with love. The question is, do you believe that he’ll really try - that he means what he’s telling you? Or do you think it’s just lines to get you to say yes?”

“Of course I believe he means it,” you say, almost surprised. But Nayoung doesn’t know Seungcheol like you do, doesn’t know how genuine his heart is. “I’m just scared he’ll… change his mind later, or something.”

“No one can promise you forever,” she points out, a little sadly.

“How can you say that?” you ask her. “You’re married. You took a vow in front of the whole family to love each other forever.”

“Sure,” she agrees. “But what I mean is that when you’re with someone… every day is a choice. You’re choosing them over the rest of the world every day that you wake up. The vow Jeongwoo and I took was to keep choosing each other, even if there are days that it’s hard.”

You drop your gaze and run your hands over the cushion of her couch absently. 

“If you’re asking me what I think you should do,” she says, “then I think you should let him try. I’m not telling you to marry him tomorrow. What could it hurt to try dating?”

“My heart,” you answer pitifully.

She reaches for your knee and gives you a playful shake. “But would that really be worse than walking away and wondering if you missed out on something real? Wouldn’t it drive you crazy not to know?”

You think about this question for the rest of the night, even after you’ve gone home again. 

When you let yourself into the apartment, you hold your breath. You know it’s ridiculous, but part of you wonders if Seungcheol will be waiting for you, waiting to make you talk about it.

The door swings open. The apartment is dark, and silent.

You think about calling him, or at least texting him - but what would you say? You’re still not sure what you want. 

Soonyoung texts you the next night - come over for pizza and movie??? pls pls??

You text back, idk. who’s coming over?

He understands the real question, sends back, he’s already here. please come anyway, noona :( chan misses you.

You sit on the edge of your bed, your phone in your hands, and hang your head, wracked with indecision.

You do know what you want. You’d said as much to Nayoung yesterday. But just because you want something doesn’t mean it’s good for you.

Your sheets still smell like Seungcheol. You want to bury yourself in them, breathe him in. You think just his smell is enough to make your head clear, your pulse calm, your pain ease.

It is this that tips you into making a choice. 

This was never about deciding if you want him. It’s been about deciding if you can trust him to take care of you.

With a sigh, you swipe back to the conversation and tell him, i’ll head over in a bit. 

The scene at Soonyoung and Chan’s is as familiar as your own home. The television screen flashes with whatever game Wonwoo and Vernon are playing, the blue LED lights lining the ceiling’s edges. Your brother’s and Chan’s voices float from the kitchen, bickering. And Seungcheol sits in his usual chair, his dark eyes on you, still and serious.

You freeze in the doorway, caught in his heavy, unwavering gaze. 

The moment stretches. He’s asking you a question without speaking, without moving, and you know that whatever you do next is an answer - definitively yes, or definitively no. 

It’s like the whole world stills around you, waiting to see… what will it be? If you shake your head or turn away, you know it means losing your chance with Seungcheol forever. He gave you grace and time to process but if you turn him down now, he won’t be crawling back.

And maybe that’s the safe option - maybe that’s the option that keeps your heart nice and swaddled, alone on your island.

But you’re trying not to be like that anymore. You’re trying to let people in. You’re trying to give others a chance.

He deserves a chance - and so do you.

You take a bracing breath and cross the room. As soon as he can tell you’re heading for him, a smile lights up his face, and his hands are ready for you, reaching to help you balance as you climb up and side sideways across his lap, your arms looping around his neck.

You hear one of the controllers hit the floor - either Wonwoo or Vernon has dropped it in shock - and then the whole room explodes into protest as you lean in and press your mouth to Seungcheol’s, as his arms wind around your back and pull you in closer.

You hear your brother shout, “Not in my living room!” and Chan’s horrified, “That is my sister!”

You tune them all out; you don’t even care. You want him to know you mean it, that you aren’t scared, that you’re in this as much as he is - for as long as he is.

He’s smiling against your lips and it’s infectious - you’re fighting your smile too, so filled with happiness and hope that you can barely hold it in. 

You break away, beaming at each other.

“All right, all right,” Seungcheol says, flapping a hand at your brother, unphased. “Calm your ass down, we’re done.”

“We’re not done,” you murmur to him, and he laughs, loud. The sound lights you up.

“Okay, we’re not done, but we’ll leave,” he concedes. You stand unsteadily, still laughing, and he leads you by the hand towards the door. You wave an unapologetic and cheerful goodbye over your shoulder and let him pull you into the hallway. 

His hand fits yours, secure and sure, large and warm, as he pulls into a future where you don’t have to be alone to be happy. His hand squeezes yours to punctuate his smile, dimples popping, promising you a wild kind of love - with time. With him.

You think you might want your hand in his forever.

<- Prev

ahhhhhhhhhhhh it's overrrrr!!!! :(

thank you so much for joining me for this series and i hope i'll see you at my next!!

[sirfrogsworth]

(In reference to this post)

I'm going to be honest, this kind of attitude concerns me.

I've been going over my past lately. I'm writing something about my relationship with my brother. And I found a letter I never sent him.

Here is an excerpt.

-----------------------

I was not a good brother to you.

I took you for granted and was an ungrateful jerk. You used to do so much to help me. You did all kinds of manual labor because my stupid failing body could not. You built me things. You helped me fix things. You drove me places I needed to be. When I first got sick at college you came to Kansas City and scooped me up and brought me back home.

I remember one Christmas you even went back to the family gathering and stuck up for me. They didn't understand how sick I was and you explained it to them. I never told you how much that meant to me. I should have hugged you and thanked you profusely on the spot. You believed me even when some doctors refused to. And you used that big heart of yours to defend me.

That was an amazing act of courage. Find that same courage now. Stand up for Mom & Dad. Stand up for yourself. Put your foot down and fix this.

It took me way too long to figure it out, but it is my regret of being a bad brother that helped me realize why you don't like my humor. Why you are one of the very few people I can't make laugh. It's because I used that humor at your expense. I made fun of you. I teased you the same way those betraying bastard fake friends did in high school. At the time, I probably thought my jokes were harmless fun. But I'm sure you felt they were cruel and hurtful. We are such different people and I had a hard time understanding you. I used humor as a weapon to highlight our differences. I have no excuse. I have no justification for being a jerk to you.

All I can do is say I am sorry. Truly and deeply sorry.

-----------------------

I didn't send that letter because he was too far gone. His wife read every email and text and I had no way of getting through to just him.

My brother used to be a much better person than me. I often failed to be the good person I thought I was. I didn't realize I was being hurtful at the time. And I didn't do this to just him. I thought I was just making jokes. It was not "pretty easy" for me to realize that. It took years of growing and hindsight.

He used to be nothing but good behaviors all the way down.

And I struggled to limit my bad behaviors.

I was bullied in grade school and realized that if you are funny, people don't bully you anymore. So my brain thought I needed to make people laugh at all times. And it didn't matter if my jokes were at someone else's expense.

Bad behaviors are often easy. They can be tempting. They can require less effort. They can have greater rewards. And sometimes they can protect you. They can be a defense mechanism. Your brain trying to avoid trauma. "I'll hurt someone first so no one hurts me."

There is a reason so many people struggle to be good all the time.

Good behavior requires constant vigilance. You can't do a certain number of good things and then just call yourself a good person. And you can't just not do bad things either. A good person isn't necessarily just "not being evil to other people." That is neutral, at best.

I've learned that being a good person isn't something you just are. It is an ongoing choice. You have to maintain it. You have to actively keep it going. You have to consistently choose good behaviors and limit the bad.

And we all choose bad behaviors from time to time.

Don't kid yourself.

If you know the story of my brother, he let bad behaviors win. He let someone influence him to abuse and neglect his own family. He did it because he was traumatized. He was humiliated by a girl in high school. She said she was his girlfriend. She let him take her to prom. Then she wrote a one-act play called "Prom Nightmare" and performed it in front of the entire school. He was a laughing stock to 2000 classmates.

He is terrified of being alone but he is also terrified that any romantic partner is faking their affections. So obedience is his tool to prevent that. He will do anything his partner instructs to make sure her affection is real. His unmanaged trauma has run amok and led him to dark choices to keep his relationship intact at any cost.

He was such a good person. And now he is not. He has the potential. He is so good with his daughter. He is capable of good behaviors. And I think that is why it upsets and angers me so much. I can still see what he could be.

If you want to see people as just good and bad, that's up to you. I can't do it anymore. I think humans are too complicated. And I worry about getting complacent. I need to check in on my ratio of good to bad behaviors constantly. It would be too easy to say I am a good person and not think about it again.

I mean, sure, I don't kick puppies. I don't taunt the elderly. I don't assault random strangers.

Being good is easy!

Right?

[anyarose011]

How to Get to Coney Island

-> Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!reader

Summary: As summer begins and the school year ends, Bucky decides to do something nice for you and your daughter.

Warning(s): Minor angst, low-key disorganized attachment (but she's healing), a sassy child, FLUFF, one innuendo, and making out.

In response to that one little boy questioning if Bucky would be a good dad [he would, it’s canon], me watching ‘Brooklyn’, it’s aftercare after Thunderbolts* [I haven't seen it yet], and how it’s summertime and I wanna go do summer things😊. So, idk if this is gonna be a series or not (I have one or two other stories in mind, but let's see if it'll be in practice). I also imagine this to be like six months before Brave New World and Thunderbolts* [the timeline is fucked]. Anywho, I hope y'all enjoy it, and happy summer!

Word Count: 5.5k

MASTERLIST

“Jamie!”

Your little girl seldomly ever called him ‘Bucky’. She was at that strange age (nine) where she wanted to seem vastly different than anyone else in the world. Even though you and her had known him for a year, you could only use one hand to count how many times she’s called him ‘Bucky’.

It was late afternoon on a Saturday in early May. The dance company you taught at just had its recital at Brooklyn Arts, and all the kids you taught were running around the reception hall in their fairytale costumes, excitedly showing them off to their parents. That was when, from the crowd, Clementine saw him.

She ran from your arms and into Bucky’s. He laughed as he hugged her, and it shouldn’t have surprised you to see two small bouquets of flowers in his hand.

Even before you started dating him, he’d bring flowers to your doorstep. It never unnerved you, which was a real shock. If anything, they’d brighten the room and in turn, your smile.

Approaching them, you wore that same smile. “You came.”

“Yeah.” He stood. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Clementine made dead eye-contact with the bouquets. “Are those for me?”

“One of them is, don’t be greedy.” Bucky chuckled, handing her a pastel bouquet. Then, he held one out to you. “For the Madame.”

You swatted him playfully, taking the flowers. “Now stop it.”

“Only if you come to get ice cream.”

“Ice cream?!” Clementine interjected.

You wrapped your arm around her shoulders, bringing her to your side. “We’d love to. Just let her get changed.”

“You haven’t said anything about my dress.” Clementine pouted, showing off the lavender fabric. “You think it’s ugly.”

“No, sweetie.” Bucky got down to her height. “I was just so impressed by your dancing, I thought I’d tell you that first because the last time I said your dress was pretty, you told me I was shallow for complimenting a girl’s clothing and not her talents.”

You snorted, and Clementine merely smiled before dashing away back into the changing rooms. Shaking your head, you sighed.

“I don’t think she’s ever gonna fix that attitude.”

“No problem.” Bucky stood. “You both keep me on my toes.”

“You say that like I’m ever mean to you.”

He didn’t have to say anything. He only gave that look, grinned a little, and shrugged. Scoffing, you turned over your shoulder and started walking to the changing rooms to hide your amusement.

Your voice betrayed you. “I’m stealing your cat if you talk to me like that again!”

“I didn’t say anything!”

After Clementine changed out of her costume, and your boss essentially “allowed” you to leave, the three of you left the school. Now here was the funniest thing about James Buchannan Barnes: Despite being a congressman for half a year at the time, if he wasn’t going anywhere for work, he took the train. He lived in a humble, one-bedroom apartment across from your two-bedroom. It was practically a suite for you and Clementine, but for him, all you could ask was why?

So, you did a month after he was elected Senator.

“I like what I like.” He said as he was fixing the heating in the small dance studio you worked in. “I’ve lived in that building for a few years now, I have all my stuff there, I don’t want to waste time moving again.”

“Clem and I would help.” You pointed out.

“You mean you.” He snickered, twisting the screwdriver.

“I mean me.”

He certainly fit the role of a politician only in movies who cared about their community and would go out and actually solve problems. He even fixed the lamplights down the whole block of your apartment and a few by the nearest library.

He was modest, and that was something you weren’t used to. Perhaps that’s why, even with a huge amount of hesitance, you agreed to go to lunch with him two months ago.

And there you were, having ice cream on an early summer day with him and your daughter.

“Did you see my do a double pirouette?” Clem asked excitedly, chocolate custard all around her lips.

“That one’s the turn, right?” Bucky asked while the three of you sat at a small table outside the bustling ice cream parlor. The last day of school had been the day before.

“Uh huh.”

“Of course I saw it, you were amazing.”

“Yeah, I was.”

You playfully shoved her. “‘Thank you’ is what we say.”

“Thank you.” She pitched her voice up higher but smiled wide at Bucky. “Do you wanna see my designs?”

“Always.”

She unzipped her backpack, bringing out a pink, glittery sketchbook. She pushed the ice cream dishes out of the way as if she were presenting important data and flipped through the pages.

“I made this one last month.” she pointed to a blank model wearing a red dress with white frills on the sleeves titled ‘Christmas in Germany’. “That ones for me, and then this one’s for mama.”

The one labeled ‘Met Gala’ simply had a lace dress in your favorite color with a long veil.

“And why would I go to the Met Gala?” You teased.

“Dance.”

“Yes,” you nodded. “that is what they do for sure.”

“You’re lucky I’m your designer for it.”

“Not really.” You pointed at the veil. “If I’m dancing, won’t that just make me trip?”

“Jamie,” she looked up. “do you want to go to the gala?”

“No.” He answered.

“Fine.” She sighed, starting another sketch. “I guess I’ll have to.”

You and Bucky laughed, and then he pointed to the next page. “What’s that one?”

Clem answered, glancing up. There were two models, a taller one and a shorter one, wearing dresses in the style from the 1950s. On the smaller one, a robin’s egg blue dress with a darker shade of blue buttons down the sternum, and a headband the same shade in the hair. On the larger model, a white shirt and skirt with red and yellow flowers scattered alongside green foliage. A robin’s egg blue satin sash across the waist.

She glanced back down at her original sketching. “When Mama and I go to Coney Island.”

“Like this summer?”

“No, ever.”

You thought you had seen (almost) every facial expression this man could make, but you were wrong. Never had you seen such a look of bewilderment.

“How long have you lived in Brooklyn?” He asked.

“Almost two years.” You shrugged, smiling. Originally, the dance studio you worked at was in lower Manhattan, but at the same time your studio was moving, you and Clementine were evicted.

But he didn’t need to know that.

“And you’ve never been to Coney Island?”

You leaned forward, putting your arms on the table. “I’m sorry, but when was the last time you went to Coney Island?”

Bucky said nothing at first, glancing down at his melting ice cream. “Nineteen forty-two.”

You hummed. “And I’m guessing tourism wasn’t really at all a time high during a war going on, so therefore, not many people went to an amusement park?”

“Not like how there are today, no.”

You didn’t have to say anything. You only gave him that look and smiled a wicked smile, sitting back in your chair.

He mirrored a yielding one. “So, if the recital’s done, what’re your plans for the summer?”

“I’ll start teaching summer classes in June, and some of the students’ parents also asked me to help tutor their kids; elementary stuff thankfully.”

“Not taking any vacations?”

You shook your head. “Busy.”

And couldn’t afford it; but he didn’t need to know that either.

He shrugged sheepishly. “I mean…I know I have a conference at the end of the month in D.C. You could come out with me.”

Clementine’s face lit up like the hot sun that day. “Yeah!”

Yours grew dark like the night that would come, though you tried to hide it. “No. Thank you for the offer but-.”

“-Why can’t we go?” Clem whined.

“He’ll be doing a lot of important work, and we don’t want to distract him.”

Not taking the hint, Bucky only continued. “That’s only for one day, we could go out on Friday and then-.”

“-Thank you.” You finished for him, a smile so tight it would rip your cheeks.

It was settled; you weren’t going, and it wasn’t spoken of again. The rest of the ice cream social went on without any more tension; spoken aloud, that is. It still lingered from your abrasive decline of Bucky’s offer. Call it your own anxiety, but you felt his disappointment radiate off of him and onto you.

Clementine was a child, and your child nonetheless, so you and the other customers outside the bustling ice crem store knew she was silently judgmental and upset about your decision.

Even on the subway ride home, the three of you said not a word to each other. Usually, the silence would have been out of comfort, but then, you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was because of you.

That’s why you stayed out in the hall when you got back to your apartment. Clementine went in without question, and you were left with Bucky.

“Really,” you began. “thank you for the offer to D.C. but-.”

“-No, it’s okay.” He interrupted casually. “I shouldn’t have pushed and now you gotta deal with Clem-.”

“-May I speak?” You cut him off calmly. When he nodded, you took in a shuttering breath. “I really am sorry. I-we’d love to go, but I haven’t been serious about anyone since her father. I’ve gone on dates, you know that, but either it’s not a match, they ran at the first sign of a kid, or the complete opposite…and I’m prideful, and I don’t want a huge trip solely just to rely on you.”

He nodded, completely understanding. “You’d be uncomfortable. You don’t have to explain it to me.”

 “I’m just…” You swallowed. “I’m sorry I’m moving so slow-.”

“I don’t think you are.”

You hadn’t even kissed him. Well…you had, but only on the cheek, his head, jaw, essentially anywhere on his face but his lips. You were wondering how he hadn’t become bored with you yet.

 “I want this to work.” You vowed. “Because, hell, I knew that even if I told you no about going on a date, you never would have treated me differently afterwards.”

Bucky took your face into his hands, saying softly. “I wouldn’t have. You’re not going slow, I…I like this too. I haven’t been serious about anyone either and I don’t wanna mess it up. Even if we’re going slow, that means we get to enjoy it more.”

You melted from his words and his touch. Drawing your arms around his neck, you sank into his embrace as his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. It was nice, just standing there in the hallway, even if the fluorescent lights above were too bright.

“But please,” he whispered into your ear. “please, let me take you two to Coney Island.”

Laughing into his neck, you gave him one last squeeze before kissing his jaw and pulling away fully. “Only if that means you’ll stop talking about it like it’s Disneyworld.”

“I will never step foot on that rat’s land.”

“Thank God you weren’t around for Chuck E. Cheese.” You joked.

“That’s not the pizza place, is it?”

“Yeah. If I was ever misbehaving, my parents would take me there to catch a cold.”

The two of you laughed maybe a little too loudly in the hallway. After you both (somewhat) composed yourselves, you wished each other a goodnight, and the rest was history. The first few days were uneventful between the three of you. Most were spent between you and Clem, sometimes making the journey all the way to Central Park, and others were spent indoors, simply having a movie day.

Some were spent with Bucky when he wasn’t busy, but those times were reserved for casual dinners or playing with Alpine (the damn cat that was the reason you and Clementine met him officially).

Two weeks passed, and it was after one of your tutoring jobs you got a call from Bucky.

“I want to do something nice for Clem.”

You chuckled, walking down the sidewalk. “She’s had you wrapped around her finger for months, that’s nice enough.”

“I’m not wrapped around her finger.”

“Uh huh. What’d you have in mind?”

“So, I was overhearing my secretary talk this morning-.”

“-Oh, your young, straight out of college, pencil skirted-.”

“-Her wife,” he strained the word with similar humor you spoke with. “just started a fashion design business and is looking for clients. It’s Sylvie and Emily, remember?”

“Oh, that’s them!” You laughed. “Yeah, their wedding was fun. What’s this about?”

He clicked his tongue. “I think it’d be neat if Clem got to wear something special for her first trip to Coney Island.”

You stopped in your tracks, in complete awe and wonder at his thoughtfulness. “If heaven is real, I know whoever raised you is there.”

He laughed, and you could picture every detail of his face; how his cheeks turned the palest of pinks, and he’d rest his hand in his hair for just a moment as if to decide if what you said was in his imagination or not.

“Do you think there’ll be enough room for me?”

You puckered your lips. “I don’t know.”

“And here I thought you were sweet.”

“Please, you know I’m sweet.” You teased. “Now, what do you need from me?”

Obviously, the sketch of the dress she designed for herself, but also her specific measurements for the perfectly tailored gown. Those were easy. When Clem was having a playdate, you snuck into her room and snapped a picture of the sketch. You had also gotten her measurements from dance when needing to buy costumes for the recital, and you sent that to him too.

So, the next few weeks ran like the last ones. When you’d work, depending on if it were for dance classes or tutoring, you’d take Clem with you. If you couldn’t, she’d be babysat by either the college girl a floor below, or the ex-nun at the end of the hall. They were really the only people in the building who would take your home-cooked meals as payment instead of money.

It was the second week of June, and you and Clementine were having a “girl’s day in” for your Friday afternoon, when a knock came on the door. You paused the Barbie princess movie that was on, and you looked through the peephole; no one.

Opening it, your eyes fell to the two white boxes wrapped in pink bows on your welcome mat. On top, a sticky note read: “Only the best for you both. Be ready at ten tomorrow morning, we’re going on an adventure. Your Loving, Jamie :)”

“What is it?” Clementine asked behind you.

Taking the boxes into your apartment, you set them down at the kitchen table, grinning from ear to ear. “Open them.”

She read the note on top before mirroring your smile and unwrapping the first box. Taking the top off, inside was revealed a perfect replica of the dress she had sketched. Her jaw dropped to the floor as she held it up, the light from the window in the living room catching it perfectly.

Clementine squealed as she hugged it close to her chest, then reaching in to grab the headband.

“How’d he do this?!” She cheered, beaming.

You giggled. “He told me he wanted to do something nice for you.”

She latched her arms around you, kissing your cheeks. “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Laughing, you hugged her just as tightly. Still in your arms, she turned around, glancing at the other box. “Is this one for you then?”

You frowned. “I’m not sure.”

Still, you opened it, and your face was the same as Clementine’s; pure, unadulterated shock. There was your dress in the box; the one your daughter had so caringly designed for you. Your face dropped into a smile, realizing this was perhaps the greatest gift you had ever received, and it wasn’t even your birthday.

“It’s so pretty.” Clem fawned.

“I wonder who designed it?” You ticked her sides. She laughed, trying to push you away from her.

You were tempted to text Bucky thank you, but decided it was best to wait until the morning to do it in person. Call it “Old-Fashioned”.

It was Clementine who ironically got you up early to get ready. After having a quick breakfast, the two of you settled to get “prettied up”.

“But I thought you said we shouldn’t dress up for men?” You teased, fixing her hair.

She sighed dramatically. “We are dressing for ourselves.”

You kissed her head. “That’s my girl.”

After “prettying up”, you heard a knock on the door. Clementine ran just as you stood from the couch and swung it open. Upon seeing Bucky, she clung to him with an iron grip.

“Good morning.” He greeted, trying to hold in his laughter.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She squeezed with every word.

He crouched down to her height and pulled her away just enough to look at her. “How do you think it came out?”

“Absolutely marvelously.”

He repeated her sentiment, smiling. “Took the words out of my mouth.”

His eyes drifted towards you, and there you stood, wearing the outfit you didn’t expect to come to life. Even though he had seen it before you, it was more than apparent that it was as if you were a witch, and he was under your spell as he stared at you, eyes running over every detail of the skirt.

“Tell her she’s pretty.” Clem whispered into his ear.

That somehow snapped him out of it. “You’re really pretty.”

Giggling, you approached him, and he stood. Perhaps it made it “worse” the closer you stood to him; he could get every detail of your face.

“Now how’d you make this?” You asked, pulling at the skirt. “I thought you only wanted to be nice to Clem?”

He smiled sheepishly, yet you detected a hint of hesitation. “Your dress was side by side with Clem’s when you sent the first picture, and your measurements were above hers when you sent them.”

None of that had occurred to you; you were simply so focused on surprising your daughter, all of that had left your mind. Bucky wasn’t finished.

“I was second guessing myself, because I didn’t know if I was violating your privacy or-.”

You kissed his cheek to shut him up. “I never would’ve given you Clem’s measurements in the first place if I didn’t trust you a little.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God, I really wanted to surprise you.”

“Come on!” Little Clementine pulled on his metal arm as if she could move him. “Stop kissing, I wanna go!”

“You don’t even have your shoes on!” Bucky taunted.

Once she did in fact slip on her sandals, and you got your own shoes, the three of you left the apartment and hailed a cab. As you were waiting on the sidewalk, it was only then you got to get a better look at Bucky as he entertained Clem.

His hair was combed, and he’d shaved recently, yet there was still somewhat of a stubble. A few of the buttons on his navy-blue polo were unbuttoned, and he wore loose-fitting cream-colored pants.

You never denied that he was attractive, even when he was a mere stranger. Yet it was that morning as he listened to Clementine talk about everything and anything, that you realized he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

The ride to Coney Island didn’t take long. A part of that certainly had to do with both Clem’s excitement, but also yours that you tried to mask. The sun was starting to come out from behind the clouds as noon approached whilst you waited in line for Luna’s Park.

“Does it look different from back then?” You asked once the three of you finally made it in. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy flooded your nostrils as you walked with your arm looped through his.

He nodded. “Everything does, so kinda. There are still some of the rides, but there’s a lot more now. Kinda overwhelming but guess that just comes with the territory.”

“Did you ever ride the Cyclone?” Clem asked, taking his hand.

“Oh yeah.” he snorted. “My friend Steve threw up. He was about as tall as you.”

“Well, I’m not going to throw up.” She bragged.

An hour later, she was right; she didn’t throw up. Yet, while you and Bucky were beaming from the thrill of it, the poor thing’s entire body was trembling as she walked.

“Okay,” you soothed her, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “let’s go get lunch.”

Thankfully, nothing like fried food horrible for everyone’s cholesterol plus ice cream to fix a nine-year-old. She nearly had a tantrum when a drop of mint-chocolate chip got on her dress, but after you dabbed some of her apple juice onto the stain, all was well.

In your decision, it was best to just play the carnival games and minor rides considering Clem’s reaction to the Cyclone. All games were played from whac a mole to ring tossing, including a few where Bucky insisted on winning crappy, cheap (but albeit adorable) carnival stuffed animals.

“She has a bunch already.” You joked when he’d gotten a stuffed bear for Clem from knocking down a pyramid of cans.

“So?” He handed the prize to Clementine, who took it happily.

“So, it’s a bunch of gobbledygook.”

Clementine laughed. “Gobbledygook!”

Bucky audibly seethed. “That’s not even how you use it!”

“Sorry,” you scoffed. “didn’t mean to be such a cornball.”

“I beg of you,” he spoke softly, holding your shoulders. “please stop, or I’ll start saying the slang I’ve heard around my office.”

“No!” Clem screamed as if she were being murdered.

Giggling, you shushed her putting a finger to her lips, and she merely giggled. You looked up at him. “Just one more, please?”

How could he say no to you as you looked at him with your own eyes? He sighed, shutting his own and nodding.

“‘Sugar, are you rationed?’ was adorable, and I probably would’ve folded if you said that to me.” You admitted.

He scoffed. “You would’ve backhanded me.”

“No.” You denied. “Rejected you and gave you a look, yes; but never hit you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

The teacups ride was by far one of your favorites. Even with only seeing it in Uptown Girls, you still enjoyed it, despite feeling slightly dizzy from all the spinning. It was much more relaxing to ride the carousel; something you couldn’t remember doing for the longest time.

It was then that the three of you decided to walk alongside the boardwalk. Clem would frequently walk ahead of you, but never too far. She settled upon sitting in the sand to relax when you and Bucky finally had somewhat of a moment alone together.

“I think you’ve made her entire summer.” You said, watching as Clementine built a sandcastle with some kids she just befriended; you wished it was that easy to make friends as an adult.

Bucky looked over at you. “You helped.”

“All of this was your idea.”

“You look beautiful.”

That’s what brought your gaze to him. You didn’t know him in another life when he lived in the 1940s, but you liked to believe that the way he looked at you then was what he looked like when he was himself. Boyish, yet mature.

Snickering, you shook your head.

“I’m serious.” He said.

“‘I’m serious’.” You mimicked in his voice before leaning in so he could only hear you. “You know, I’m not gonna put out just because you got me a pretty dress.”

He huffed, and you couldn’t tell if it was from being amused or slightly aroused. He still wore the same grin you always liked.

“I don’t expect that from you.”

“Uh huh.” You teased.

“I don’t!”

“Mama!”

The tension was broken by the call of your child. You both looked to see her standing in the sand. “Can we go swimming?”

You shook your head. “Baby I already told you we aren’t; and in what swimsuits?”

“We could buy them!”

Your jaw dropped. Usually, the childish greed would’ve appalled you into scolding her. Yet, it was a sunny day, and it was summer, so you merely laughed.

“Absolutely not!”

She groaned yet did nothing more than sit in the sand and sulk. Thank God she didn’t throw a tantrum.

“You know,” Bucky started. “I could-.”

“No.” You interrupted. “You’ve done too much, and she needs to be told ‘no’ or it’ll just make my life hell when she grows up.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He dropped it.

Silence fell between the two of you, and you rested your head on his shoulder. “Besides, why would I want to take off a perfectly beautiful dress you so caringly told your secretary to tell her wife to craft?”

“It’s not the dress that makes you beautiful.” He pulled you closer.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I should say you’d look beautiful wearing anything; even a potato sack.”

“Huh,” you looked up at him. “so you should say it, but you aren’t. What are you saying them?”

Bucky didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. He only smiled, and you watched as his eyes traveled down your body.

A sharp laugh filled your lungs and escaped your mouth as you tried to muffle it with your hand. Bucky took it away as he laughed, hugging you close to him.

“Now I know you weren’t just imagining me in swimsuit just now.” You teased.

He shook his head. “No-!”

“Too scandalous for you, James Barnes.” You threw on an accent one would only hear in black and white movies. “Oh my stars, it was already too much to see a woman’s ankle, but to imagine her in a bathing costume?”

“We didn’t see just women’s ankles back in the forties, doll.”

“What did you see?”

He scoffed, hiding how his cheeks turned red. “Come on.”

“No, I’m serious.” You smirked. “I thought you were all prudes back then. Are you telling me I’m wrong?”

“Yes.” He kissed the top of your head. “Very.”

It was funny; you told him you wanted to take it slow, and you still did to an extent…but it felt so effortless to tease and flirt with him like this.

“We can always go swimming some other time.” You changed the subject as you watched Clementine get over herself and make her way back to you two.

“Preferably not at Coney Island.” Bucky added.

It could’ve been for an array of reasons you guessed; he thought the beach was too crowded, he didn’t like the new version of the amusement park, or he was insecure of his arm being more so on display for everyone. Still, you intercepted with.

“Probably for the best.” You looked directly at your daughter when she took your hand. “I can just imagine you and Clem playing, and then an out of context picture is taken and labeled ‘Brooklyn Senator spotted trying to drown child’; when really, it would be the other way around.”

“Now why would I do that?” Clementine asked innocently while Bucky laughed.

“You’d have your reasons.”

Bucky took Clem’s other hand. “We’d be playing sharks and minnows.”

“What’s that?”

He looked up at you. “What have you been teaching this kid?”

“Well, I tried manners but gave up.”

Clem hummed. “You didn’t teach me anything.”

You raised your arm up, hoisting her halfway into the air and Bucky soon followed. Both of you swung her as you walked, resulting in her into a fit of giggles. As the sun beat down on your neck, it wasn’t just you getting tired. Clem’s eyes grew heavier, and by the time you made it back to the entrance of Deno’s Wonder Wheel, she was falling asleep on her feet.

“Okay,” Bucky hoisted her into his arms. “maybe it’s time to go home.”

“Nooooo.” She whined but nuzzled her face into his neck.

You ran your hand over her hair, then whispered to Bucky. “She’s getting too big to be carried. I can-.”

“-I got her.” He said just as quietly back.

“I wanna ride the wheel.” She continued to sulk.

You rubbed her cheek. “You’d throw up and ruin your dress.”

“No, I won’t.”

“We can go on the wheel another day, pumpkin.” Bucky cooed.

“I wanna go swimming.”

“We can go swimming another day.” He promised.

The cab ride back was peaceful. It was the better kind of silence; one where no one had to say a thing to feel comfortable. Part of that was because Clementine drifted off to sleep. Bucky wouldn’t say it aloud, but just from how he looked down at her resting face, you knew he never imagined someone so small and helpless would feel safe enough to fall asleep in his arms.

It was only four in the afternoon, but it had been a long, exciting day. When you made it back to the apartment, you watched from the doorway of Clementine’s room as Bucky carefully laid her down on her bed, tucking her in.

Something in you shifted as you watched such a domestic scene.

As he tiptoed out of the room and carefully shut the door, you found that you were wrong earlier that day.

It was him staring at you then in there outside your daughter’s bedroom did you notice how beautiful he was. How his chest heaved in air gently while previously holding his own breath as if it would awake Clementine, how his eyes gazed over you to try and figure out exactly what was going on inside your head.

“You alright, honey?”

Your eyes ran over his lips, and after inhaling a shaky breath, you took his hand. After leading him into the sitting room, and onto the couch, you straddled his lap and placed your hands on his face.

Lightly tracing every inch of it, you brought your lips to his cheek, and then the other. Bucky shut his eyes, sinking into the couch and your touch as his hands drifted to your hips. You hovered your mouth over his.

“Too much?” You asked.

“No.” He breathed. “Not at all.”

You pressed your lips to his gently at first. It didn’t take long for the heat of your breaths to heighten as Bucky pulled you closer into him as you kissed. Your hands traveled into his hair, loosely pulling on the short strands causing him to grunt with each tug.

The farther you sank into his lap, the higher your skirt hiked up your hips. The coolness of his metal hand traveling up your thigh tore a yelp through your throat.

“I’m sorry.” He asked, immediately stopping.

You shook your head. “Just surprised me. I don’t wanna do more than this.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” You kissed him again.

“Yeah.” He sighed into your mouth, bringing his right hand under your shirt to rub circles into the small of your back.

You lightly bit his lip as you smiled into the kiss, and he groaned, wrapping his arm around your waist and his other around your thigh to hoist you up. You tried to stifle your giggle against his lips as he gently laid you down on the couch before climbing over you. You parted your legs to give him enough space, resuming kissing.

You could only feel him all around you. One hand would clutch the fabric of your skirt while the other cradled the back of your neck to not rest uncomfortably on the arm of the couch.

It was when you swore he had kissed all the air from your lungs when he finally pulled away and draped his legs over the couch, panting as if he’d ran a mile. You smiled wider than you had all day, you swore. You fully lay yourself down, tossing your feet over his lap and watching him.

He rested his head in his hand, still breathing quite deeply.

When he hadn’t looked at you yet, you frowned, sitting up and tugging your skirt down over your bare legs.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” he huffed, finally meeting your gaze, a shy grin upon his lips. “Just a lot.”

“Oh…” you dropped your eyes before looking back at him. “Good though?”

“Yes.” He said without a hint of reluctance.

You chuckled, bringing your hand up to his hair. “I think you should grow it out.”

“Why?” He wrinkled his nose.

“More for me to run my hands through.”

Bucky smiled, dare you say, almost shyly. “I’ll think about.”

And the two of you just sat there in each other’s company, debating if it was better to wish each other farewell for the day, or be absolutely still and where you were with each other.

“You know,” You began. “I think Clem would love it if you stayed for dinner.”

“I think so too.” He agreed. “And maybe a movie?”

���Oh, she’d adore it.”

[nashusglasses]

💪🏻&🥶 + zayne pls and thank u queen

Hi Sam ily!!!!!!! thank you for giving me a reason to revive wife guy Zayne who gets turned on when you mention the fact that you have a mortgage together LOL

send me an emoji + a lads man for a drabble! 🌞

For the seventh time tonight, Zayne declines the groom's offer of a sip of his whiskey neat. Never mind the shit taste; he promised himself he'd be completely sober the rest of the night, and the pineapple juice the bartender offered him was as satisfied as he was going to get.

He watches the bride take her nth shot. Then he sees you chasing her around the dance floor with a water bottle but failing miserably to get her to drink it down. Even worse is the DJ queueing up Bottoms Up by Trey Songz, and suddenly you're lost to the throng of drunk dancing and the bride violently shaking ass.

Zayne laughs quietly to himself, comparing the image of her now to three hours earlier: she was such a pearl, exchanging vows with tear-kissed eyes in front of the calm sea. He's glad to see her having the night of her life after witnessing—once again—the horrors of wedding planning. (His two responsibilities were keeping the rings safe and saying his best man speech. He guesses such important tasks warrant a congratulations shot from the bar, but whiskey neat? He inwardly cowers at the thought of the taste.)

You, however, aren't faring quite so well.

You catch him outside the reception hall a while later, sending his mom a text telling her his speech went well. "Zayne? Are you busy?"

The first thing he notices: the extra weight you're putting on your right leg, and Tara carefully balancing your arm around her shoulder.

He instantly puts his phone in his pocket. "Are you alright?"

You give him a sheepish smile, like you're afraid of a scolding. "I may or may not have twisted my ankle trying to have a dance-off with a baby."

"A baby," he repeats in disbelief.

"It was my niece," Tara snorts. "You think you got her? I need to call Andrea a ride, she's passed out at the sweetheart table."

Zayne briefly recalls a bridesmaid lain akimbo on the chairs. "Of course."

As soon as Tara's passed you over to Zayne's side, she's scurrying back into the hall with a quick feel better! He has to lean down as you hook your elbow onto his shoulder, suddenly very aware of your proximity and scent. Sea salt. Bergamot and jasmine. Something unattainable at the moment. "Do you think you can help me walk back to the bridal suite?" You ask. "I left my sandals there. I'm done with these heels."

You point to the small lakeside house just past the outdoor bar and the ceremony grounds. It's a one-minute walk at most, but Zayne doesn't want to risk your ankle swelling up into a balloon. He knows you'll refuse him, so he's quick with it.

"Wha—Zayne!"

He adjusts his hand under your knees, cradling the other under your shoulders. Your arms wrap around his neck with a nervous grip. He thinks he feels you shiver. "Are you cold?"

"Maybe." You don't make eye contact with him as he starts walking. "Oh my god this is so embarrassing."

"Now why would you say that?"

He's almost miffed that you're questioning his intentions. He hasn't had a chance to have a conversation with you that wasn't about being on schedule for wedding performances. (Weddings have a funny way of revealing all the mushy parts stuck inside you, and you of all people would know this. You nearly cried your foundation off during the father of the bride speech.) "Zayne," you say in warning, watching the bartenders you pass by snickering to themselves, probably thinking you're too drunk to walk.

He sighs. He's gonna need to bring out the big guns to get your guard down.

"I know," he concedes. "I just missed my wife so much."

You barely suppress your body vibrating with another shiver. "You piss me off so bad."

"And I have every reason to drop you. Here. Right now." The cement pathway to the suite is a very dangerous threat to your very vulnerable butt. "Say that again."

You huff, curling your hands into his neck in veiled threat. You don't say anything. The rest of your ten-second walk to the suite doors is cloaked in your silent defeat. You only talk once he's got you inside and seated on the lounge chairs, the place still messy with makeup palettes, matching bridesmaid pajamas you'd all left haphazard to get into procession. There's a random hair extension lying limp on the floor.

"This is gonna be a bitch to clean up later." You loll your head back, closing your eyes as Zayne props your bad ankle up onto a couch cushion he grabbed. "I take it back. You don't piss me off that bad anymore."

Zayne smiles, sits down in the lounge chair next to yours. He's also tempted to sink into the softness like you do. "We should think of our vow renewals soon," he says.

"We've been married for three months."

"I like to think of our prospects."

"We should probably pay off our mortgage first."

Zayne feels a zap rip down his spine. He'll be the last to admit it, but witnessing your life become intertwined at the barest bones of incoming mortgage payments and hydro bills has transformed him into something new. Something changed. A husband who takes care of his wife.

"You look very beautiful tonight." He watches you peek an eye open at him. The air conditioner of the suite whirrs to life. You smile tiredly.

"And you're very handsome," you answer back. "I kinda like being married to you."

"Good."

He leans over, kissing your lipstick off.

"I kind of like being married to you, too."

[bakug0uzb1thc]

saw this trend and was like ‘im going to imagine this as Katsuki’ and it hasn’t stopped bouncing between my 2 brain cells. this would NEVER happen in cannon.. but hypothetically. (I’m going to shut up.)

(You and Bakugou are both 2nd years but your younger than him just fyi.)

Katsuki Bakugou x fem! Reader

warning: teen parents, suggestive, cruising, mentions of smut themes.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

It happened by accident, you were being stupid teens and made a mistake and trusted your birth control too much and ended up pregnant.

You were sixteen and petrified— but if you had the option to go back in time you would do it all over again.

Telling Katsuki was more of a ‘what the fuck do we do.’ Conversion then a ‘please don’t leave me.’

Yes you are scared to tell Katsuki but he was your best friend before anything else and you needed him the most.

When you told his parents they laid it out very simply. They were not joyed at the fact their son knocked you up but that was on you both as well as your decision on what to do.

You both agreed to keep the baby, you understood the consequences and responsibility’s of not only getting pregnant and how your parents were gonna ground you like crazy (it didn’t happen it was an empty threat that Mitski once told.) but Also having a baby and how heavy that truly was.

But it all worked out— you gave birth to a healthy baby girl that you named Sumire and it was like a light was turned on.

The first week was rough, having to wake up to crying in the middle of the night, the postpartum phase and the constant lactation.

It was default but that’s what you both signed up for. Happily. And you both got a pretty neat label at UA as the ‘one iconic couple that had a kid.’

Once she was 5 months old it truly hit you that you and Katsuki were teen parents.

“we’re fucking parents.” You were sitting on his bed, back towards his wall as you held your daughter in your lap as she played with your fingers babbling to herself as you faced Katsuki who was at his desk doing homework.

He put a hand on the back of his seat to turn his body to look at you and his daughter. “yeah it’s not news.” He admired the sight, taking a mental picture.

“How’d that happen?” You said in shock, acting like it just happened.

“We had sex and you said ‘oh don’t worry Katsuki I’m on birth control have a field day’” he laughed at himself.

“Okay you’re funny. Now do me a favor and take your daughter my thigh is going numb.” Sumire was his sidekick, that’s what he called her.

He wanted a girl so bad (would never admit it) but he pumped his fist in the air when he found out the gender.

He got up without a complaint and took the infant from your lap, and held her small hand in his own and kissed her palm.

When he did it always made her laugh and he adored it.

He gets cuteness aggression BAD.

“I’d do it again.” He spoke up between kisses. “Do what?” You raised a brown in confusion at what he said. “Cum.” He let out devilish chuckle.

“Omg Katsuki.” You covered your flushed face at his wording.

“All jokes aside- I’m not complaining. I think it’s tits that I have a mini me.” He chewed her chubby cheek lightly, making her look at you confused but still wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Language.” You poked, acting like you didn’t just curse 5 minutes ago.

“Oh my god! Sumire do you hear your mom. Telling me to watch my language. Get a load of this.” He hugged the baby against his cheek, putting his other hand on her other cheek and squishing her face slightly.

You couldn’t take him seriously. “You’re a jerk.” You said sitting on your knees dragging him down to the bed safely watching as he was holding your daughter securely.

“Jerk you had a kid with.” He laid on your lap, holding Sumire against his chest.

“I’m aware.” You reached down to kiss him on the lips.

It wasn’t planned but it worked out and that’s all that mattered to both of you. The best thing that happed to the two of you was Sumire and she didn’t even know.

(I am convinced I’m unable to write a short fic. Thank you for reading my inner thoughts, this has to be the fic I enjoyed writing the most^_^!!)

[no-goodbyes-no-regrets]

Happy prompts? Say no more!

Buck watching Tommy play with Jee-Yun and/or Baby Boy Han in Madney’s backyard and deciding that he has to figure out the secret to mpreg ASAP.

big man, tiny kiddie coming right up!

(did i scroll through several lists of Korean baby names just for one throwaway line in this fic? why yes, yes I did)

Future with you (also on AO3)

Rating: G word count: 1392

---

They're in Maddie and Chim's back yard, little Jae-Hyun only a little over two weeks old and so tiny he all but disappears in Buck's hands. His little hand too small to even fully wrap around his uncle's finger.

He's adorable and Buck is completely in love with the little boy.

He'd taken him from Maddie the second he'd walked through the door, both to give her a break and to have a buffer between him and his parents.

Things were better but not perfect.

But today everyone is on their best behaviour to celebrate the newest addition to their family.

The weather is nice, his mom is busy fussing over Maddie, Chim escaped into the kitchen half an hour ago, and Tommy is sitting next to him and softly strokes the baby's head with one finger.

Life doesn't get much better than this.

"I think you're his new favourite person after mom." Tommy says, trying and failing to tear his eyes away from the boy dozing in Buck's arms.

"I don't know about that." Buck says with a chuckle. "I think he's just happy to be held. Jee was like that too."

"Uncle Tommyyyy" Jee whines as if on cue and starts tugging at Tommy's hand. "I wanna fly!"

"In a minute princess. I'm just hanging out with your little brother now."

She gives him an unimpressed huff.

"You can do that later. I wanna fly nowww!"

Tommy bites back a laugh.

"Why don't you come sit with us for a little while? We can fly later."

She rolls her eyes in a way that makes her look like Maddie's mini me and Buck bites his lip and focuses on the little boy in his arms to stop himself from laughing.

"Babies are boring." Jee tells them but lets Tommy pick her up and put her in his lap anyway.

She's a little obsessed with being in Tommy's arms, a feeling Buck can relate to all too well, and sometimes he thinks she might be the happiest member of the Buckley-Han family to have Tommy back where he belongs.

"That's because he's only little. When he's older you can play together." Tommy explains but Jee isn't convinced.

"I want a puppy." she says. The 'not a little brother' goes unsaid but not unheard.

"Yeah I always wanted a puppy instead of a brother too." Tommy tells her and that gets her attention.

"You have a baby too?"

Tommy chuckles.

"He's 8 minutes older than me actually." he moves her in his arms so he can take his phone out of his pocket. "That's him on the left." he shows her a picture Buck remembers taking at the badge vs badge basketball tournament a few weeks ago after someone had suggested putting Tommy on the PD team and pretend to be Rocker.

Rocker's team had been convinced it would work, while he and Luca had done their best to point out the differences between their partners and why they'd get found out in no time.

"He looks just like you." Jee notes.

"That's because we're twins." Tommy explains. "My mommy had two babies at the same time."

Jee looks at him like she's not sure if he's actually telling the truth but doesn't have the necessary information to prove him wrong.

"Is he a fireman too?"

"No he's a policeman." Tommy tells her, deciding to keep things simple. "Like Athena."

"Girls can be police too." Jee says like she's explaining the mysteries of the world to him.

"Of course. Girls can be anything they want."

"Girls can fly too, right uncle Tommy?"

"Of course. There are a few girls who fly where I work."

"I can fly too!" Jee announces and climbs off his lap. "Come on uncle Tommy! We can fly!" she spreads her arms and starts running around the yard, until Tommy gives in and with a quick kiss and a "duty calls" to Buck, scoops her up and swings her around while she screams in delight.

"He's good with her." Philip Buckley says a few minutes later and Buck jumps. His father has apparently learnt how to appear out of thin air and sits down next to him, both of them looking at Tommy and Jee.

"Yeah... Jee loves him. She's obsessed with flying ever since he told her what his job is."

"I have to admit, I found that one of the more interesting things about him when I first met him too. He said he'd show me around the birds some time."

Buck does a double take. He's still not completely used to the fact his parents know and like Tommy, and approve of their relationship to the point of his father now apparently making plans with him.

"Though with everything that's happened lately, I figured he had other things on his mind than giving me a tour."

"Y-yeah... he won't mind though. He loves talking about the helicopters."

"Maybe next time. Your mother and I are flying back home in a few days. Maddie and Howie have everything under control with this little man." Philip says and tickles little Jae's tummy.

They sit and watch the little boy for a minute until Jee's happy screaming pulls their attention back to her and Tommy.

He's pretending she's getting too heavy and he's too tired to hold onto her and they crash onto the grass together.

They're both laughing as Tommy rolls onto his back and Jee climbs onto his chest to convince him to get up and fly with her again.

Buck winces on his behalf when he notices one of her knees digging into his stomach, but Tommy doesn't even flinch.

"Uncle Buck! You need to come fly too!" Jee decides and Tommy only just manages to move her off his chest before she uses him as a trampoline.

"I think uncle Buck is a little too heavy to fly, princess. He had two pieces of cake earlier." Tommy holds up two fingers.

"I only had two small pieces. Uncle Tommy had two huuuuge pieces." Buck replies. "And he had a chocolate muffin for breakfast. He needs to be careful or he won't fit in the helicopter anymore."

"Are you calling me fat?" Tommy mock glares and turns to Jee. "I think uncle Buck wants to sleep on the sofa tonight. Or in the car."

Jee giggles and Tommy puts an arm around her and pulls her into his side, pretending to whisper something in her ear while looking back at Buck who just laughs.

In his arms Jae is starting to wake up and notice he's not in his mother's arms and decides to let the world know he's not happy with the situation.

"Give him to me, I'll take him inside to Maddie and save her from your mother."

Buck gently transfers the little boy to his father's arms and tries to push away the feeling of emptiness as Philip gets up and walks into the house with him.

"Uncle Buck!" Jee yells his name again and he sees her and Tommy on their backs on the grass. Apparently they've moved on from flying to cloud watching.

She holds out her hand for him and Tommy does the same.

"Come on babe, we've already seen one shaped like a tiger."

"Wow a tiger? Well I can't say no to that, can I?" He gets up and joins the two of them on the grass, leaning over to Jee to kiss Tommy, laughing when she pushes them apart and tells them kissing is gross.

"Just wait until you're older and you find someone you love and want to kiss all the time." Buck tells her, but Jee insists that's never going to happen.

They spend the rest of the afternoon watching the clouds and making up stories to go with them, and when Jee is deep into a story about the unicorn she found, Buck lets his mind drift to a day in the hopefully not too distant future, where it's not their niece he and Tommy are entertaining, but a child of their own.

He turns his head to the side and meets Tommy's eye over Jee's head and they share a smile.

He mouths "I love you" to Tommy, and makes a mental note to invite Hen and Karen over for dinner soon.

[rekino2114]

Nanami gets spoiled on Mother's day? Her and reader have a 5-year old son and they wanna spoil Nanmi, and (your choice for this) but Yuji joins in since he's kinda like a son to Nanami

Spoiling fem!nanami on mother's day

Being the workaholic, she is nanami unfortunately had to work on Mother's Day too. However, she promised not to work overtime and come home as early as she could to spend the day with you and your son

However you two weren't complaining too much as that would just mean you had more time to prepare all the surprises you were going to give her

"Again I am truly sorry, I am the only grade 1 sorcerer who can take the mission as every one else is busy"

"Don't worry I don't mind, I know it's your job"

"Yes, but I still need to apologize. Please believe me, I would love nothing more than to spend today with my family"

"I know, but at least you'll be here for the night right?"

"Of course, I'll try to leave as early as I can"

"I appreciate that"

"It's the least I could do, I love spending time with you two after all"

When she left you and your son immediately started to decorate the house together, putting up decorations like it was her birthday. You knew nanami didn't particularly like huge celebrations but your child insisted you should do something like that and you couldn't say no to him

You brought her favorite sandwich from her favorite shop and a small cake that you made sure she liked

You and s/n (son name) prepared your gifts and played together to wait until nanami came home

Meanwhile, your wife had just wrapped up her mission and all the related paperwork, so she ignored gojo or anything else that might have caused her to stay longer since she just wanted to go home to her family

When she did come back you and s/n immediately went to hug her and wish her a happy mother's day

"Honey, s/n? I'm ho-"

"Happy mother's day mama!"

"O-oh thank you"

"Happy mother's day from me too my love"

"......thanks I really appreciate it"

Your gift to her was a new tie that she had been looking at for a while, even if she didn't react that much you could tell from her gentle smile that she loved it

You also gave her a massage to help her relax after all that work and she really really appreciated that mostly because she was really tense and needed it a lot

Meanwhile s/n just gave her a poem he had written in class about how much he loved her which genuinely almost made nanami cry

You were having fun celebrating when your doorbell rang, and when your wife went to answer it, she found yuji standing outside with a gift

"....what is it itadori?"

"Oh I just wanted to wish you a happy mother's day....since you're a mom and all hehe"

"Shouldn't you be with your own mother?"

"....well to be honest I never really knew my mom"

".......I see"

"Well I just wanted to give you this, hope you have a great day with your famil-"

"Would you like to join us?"

"Uh?"

"I don't mind at all if you want to come in"

"W-well but you should spend today with your family, I'd just be bothering you"

"Not at all, y/n and s/n love you too, so if you want you could definitely come too"

".........thank you so much nanamin"

"However I would appreciate it if you'd refrain from calling me that"

And so yuji joining your celebrations and had fun with you

He was great with your son, playing with him and making him laugh, he was kind of like a big brother to him

You could see that nanami was happy yuji joined too, being his mentor made her grow closer to him and she had started to see him as a sort of second son with all the time they spent together

"Are you enjoying the party honey?"

"Hm? Oh of course, thank you for setting all of this up for me"

"No, thank you for being such an amazing wife and mother"

[nottodaysari]

Wonderwall

Chapter one- directions?

Well, shit.

I stared at my phone like it had personally betrayed me. Dead. Of course it was dead. And of course I was stranded with a half-hour walk to a restaurant I couldn’t find in a city I barely knew. The only thing missing was dramatic rain to complete the scene.

I glanced up and scanned the street, hoping for a miracle—maybe someone with a working phone, a teleportation device, or at least a caffeine boost. No luck. Just strangers rushing by, honking cars, and my social anxiety ramping up like it was training for the Olympics.

Then I saw him.

Tall. Ridiculously attractive. Blue eyes with main-character energy. Hair like he was in a shampoo commercial. Fantastic. A hot guy, just what I needed while looking like I'd lost a fight with the wind.

Whatever. Desperate times.

“Hey! Excuse me?” I called out, speed-walking toward him like I might combust if he ignored me.

He turned. Raised eyebrows. Mild curiosity. Definitely smug.

“Yeah?” he said. Voice smooth. The charming kind of cocky.

“My phone died. I’m totally lost. I’m trying to get to a place called Salsa’s—it’s a restaurant, not a dance class, though I’d probably fail at either—and I have zero idea where I’m going. And talking to strangers isn’t exactly in my comfort zone, but here I am.”

He smiled. “Damn. Breathe, Speed Racer.”

Right. Oxygen.

I exhaled and gave him an awkward smile. “Sorry. Minor meltdown.”

“You’re fine. I’m actually headed to Salsa’s, if you want to walk with me.”

“You’re kidding. Seriously?”

“Nope.”

“You’re a lifesaver. I might actually love you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I’m joking. Mostly. But thanks.”

We started walking. I shoved my phone in my jacket pocket like it was the real villain here.

“So, how far is this place?”

“About thirty minutes.”

I groaned. “Perfect.”

We walked in silence for a bit. It got awkward fast, so I did what I always do—talked to fill it.

“So, what’s your name, mystery guy?”

“Matt. You?”

“Mhia. With an H.”

He blinked. “Where’s the H?”

“Ask my mom. She wanted to be creative. Starbucks has never recovered.”

He laughed. “I like it. Unique.”

“I aim to confuse.”

He gave me a playful look. “Are you always this dramatic or just today?”

“Depends. Are you always this confident or were you born that way?”

“Touché.”

“Thanks. I balance sarcasm and sincerity pretty well.”

He smirked. “You meeting someone at Salsa’s or just wandering Vegas like a sitcom character?”

“Meeting a friend. She ditched me to flirt with a bartender. I respect the strategy.”

Matt chuckled. “I’m meeting my brothers. They’re probably still at the hotel trying to become a boy band.”

“How many brothers do you have?"

“Two.”

“And you’re here for work?”

“Kind of. We make videos. Social media stuff.”

I paused. “So… influencers?”

He shrugged. “We prefer ‘internet personalities.’”

I gave him a look. “So if I trip, it’s going on TikTok?”

“Only if it’s hilarious.”

“Fair.”

We were almost at the restaurant, and weirdly, I didn’t want the walk to end. He was easy to talk to, which honestly seemed unfair. Tall, attractive, funny, charming? Suspicious.

“So what about you?” he asked. “Anything scandalous?”

“I’m a receptionist at a gym,” I said. “Living the dream.”

He nodded like that was impressive. “Free protein bars and front-row seats to gym drama. Nice.”

“You’d be shocked how many shirtless guys think mid-deadlift flirting is effective.”

“Let me guess. One of them wore toe shoes?”

I blinked. “Okay, creepy accurate.”

We both laughed as we stepped into Salsa’s. The place smelled like heaven and poor decisions. He held the door open.

“Chivalry isn’t dead, huh?”

“Not while I’m around.”

“Cocky.”

“Confident.”

“Debatable.”

We got in line and I looked at him. “Let me cover your food. You saved me from wandering into a dive bar and crying.”

“No chance. I’m paying. For your food, at least.”

I grinned. “How generous. However will I repay you?”

He smiled. “Maybe with your number?”

I laughed. “Maybe. But only if you don’t order something weird.”

“Tacos okay?”

“Tacos are a love language.”

“Then I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Solid choice. What do you want to drink?”

“Root beer.”

I blinked. “What are you, ten?”

He gasped like I insulted his family. “Root beer is elite. Don’t judge me.”

I held up my hands. "Smile and nod, smile and nod…”

He laughed, and I joined in without thinking. We grabbed our food and sat across from each other in a booth.

As we are and we talked and talked until there was no food left on our plates and no liquid left in our cups. "Matt thanks for this really great meal, I have to go now" I said in a sad tone.

His smile immediately faded and and he looked down at his phone for a moment, that moment was the longest it had been quiet between us. "Mhia, can I get your number?" He asked handing me his phone opened to new contacts.

"of course, you better text me though" I said in a joking tone but completely serious. "Oh you're gonna regret saying that, one day you're gonna beg for me to stop texting you" I rolled my eyes and started typing in my number.

I handed him his phone back and took a step so I was directly next to him I bent down and kissed him on the cheek "bye matt". His cheeks flushed and he spoke in a slightly higher pitch "bye mhia".

I sprinted back to the hotel like my life depended on it. In my head, all I could think was: the sooner I charge my phone, the sooner he might text me.

God, I hope he texts me.

Matt wasn’t just attractive—he was the whole package. Funny, easy to talk to, and somehow, it felt like our personalities just clicked. It was rare. Weird. Kind of amazing.

I rushed into the hotel lobby and made a beeline for the elevators. Naturally, they were taking forever, moving at the speed of a dramatic pause in a soap opera.

Ariana was going to be proud of me. Matt was the first guy I’d shown actual interest in in weeks. Months, maybe. Something about him just hit different—like he’d been dropped into my life by accident, or fate, or some very generous matchmaking algorithm.

As soon as the elevator dinged open, I speed-walked to my room, too distracted to pay attention to where I was going. Which was exactly how I crashed—full force—into someone.

The impact knocked me clean off balance, and I stumbled backward, landing on the hotel hallway carpet that had definitely seen better days.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” I said, brushing hair out of my face. I looked up—and froze.

Two guys stood in front of me. Both tall. Both very familiar-looking. In fact, they looked so much like Matt, I half-wondered if I’d hit my head harder than I thought.

“Am I hallucinating?” I muttered.

One of them bent down, offering a hand. “Are you okay?”

I must’ve had a ridiculous expression on my face, because he glanced back at his twin—triplet, I assumed—and raised a brow like he wasn’t sure what he’d just gotten himself into.

I blinked, still processing. “Wait… are you guys related to a guy named Matt?”

The one kneeling let out a low chuckle. His brother mumbled something I couldn’t catch.

“Yeah, he’s our brother,” he said, helping me up.

“Oh, okay.” I dusted myself off. “I just talked to him at a restaurant. Can you tell him Mhia says hi?”

It came out so fast I barely understood myself. They both looked at me like I’d started speaking in tongues.

“Uh, sure,” the guy said, half-shrugging. He glanced at his brother again, and they shared a silent look—part confusion, part amusement.

“Well… have a great day,” the standing one said, already turning to walk away.

I didn’t even have time to reply before they disappeared down the hall.

I finally reached my room and collapsed onto the bed, phone already plugged in and charging like it owed me.

Now all I could do was wait.

I really, really hope he texts.

A/N- omg I'm finally done with the first chapter and I think this is decent! Tagging all my fav blogs cuz free will exists: @theyluvivi @sturniolohohoho @sturns-mermaid @tits4matt @chrisspussygang @riowritesitall @scorpio1205 @sweeethrt @stvrniolostan @dolliraez @ariieeesworld @oopsiedaisydeer @delilahsturniolo @starrii-sturns @chrismalfoy @owensbabygirl @sweetoothgirl @y3sterdaysproblem @phone4pills @ifwdominicfike @vanteguccir

[radioactivatedspider]

"God I Love Texas"

Main Masterlist Actors Masterlist

Pairings; Jensen Ackles x Wife!reader

Genre; romantic comedy, slice-of-life, sensual tension

Warnings; suggestive sexual content, mild domestic sensuality

Summary: Jensen and his wife try to cope with a Texas heatwave.

764 words

The front door creaked open with a groan of protest, letting in a gust of stale, scorching air as Jensen stepped inside. Sweat slicked the back of his neck almost instantly, and he cursed under his breath.

"Jesus, it’s hotter than hell's taint in here," he muttered, tugging at the collar of his damp t-shirt.

The house was dead quiet. No cartoons blaring. No toys littering the floor. No sound of little feet running wild. Just the slow hum of a fan somewhere in the distance, fighting a losing battle.

"Y/N?" he called out, wiping his brow.

No answer. He followed the faint breeze like a bloodhound, passing windows thrown wide open, sheer curtains fluttering like ghostly warnings. The air felt thick, unmoving, suffocating—

Then he heard it—a low groan. Human, unmistakably female, and filled with pure misery.

It led him straight to the master bathroom.

He turned the corner and stopped in his tracks.

You were on the floor, sprawled out in just your bra and underwear, arms and legs extended like you were mid-exorcism. A wet towel was draped dramatically across your forehead, your mouth half-open as you lay there like the tragic heroine in some Southern Gothic.

“You alive?” Jensen asked carefully.

You didn’t open your eyes. “Barely.”

“I’m gonna assume the AC’s dead.”

“You would assume correctly. Our house is a death trap.”

He chuckled and crouched beside you, the cool tile offering the first hint of relief since he walked in. “I leave for five hours and come back to you impersonating a crime scene.”

“I gave up trying to be sexy three sweat puddles ago.” You cracked an eye open and looked at him. His shirt was sticking to him like a second skin, and even his hair looked annoyed by the heat.

“You’re always sexy,” he said easily, reaching over to brush a finger down your arm, but you flinched away.

" It’s a hundred and ten outside. If you touch me, I will kill you.”

He raised both hands in surrender. “Noted. No physical contact unless it's with an ice cube.”

You sighed and let the washcloth slide off your forehead. “Where are the kids?”

“With their mom until tomorrow. Which means we’ve got a free night to bask in the fiery pits of our own private hell.”

“How romantic.”

He stood up and yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the counter. “Alright. You want me to fix the AC, or bring in every fan from the garage and make a wind tunnel?”

You sat up slowly, hair clinging to your neck. “Unless you have a direct line to God, I don’t think anything’s gonna help. But maybe…” You hesitated, then gave him a sly look. “We could take a cold shower?”

He raised a brow. “Together?”

You shrugged. “I figure if I’m gonna be miserable, might as well be naked with someone who looks like you.”

Jensen grinned, then leaned down and offered you a hand. “That might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“I look like a rotisserie chicken.”

“Sexy chicken,” he quipped.

You grabbed his hand and let him help you up, nearly slipping on the tile as you went. “Don’t get too excited. You try anything in that shower and I’ll leave you for the box fan.”

He laughed and steadied you with a hand on your waist. “I’m nothing if not respectful in times of crisis.”

“Damn right,” you muttered, already peeling the rest of your clothes off. He followed suit, and by the time you both stepped into the cold spray of the shower, it was like a baptism.

You both gasped at the temperature, but neither moved to turn it up.

“I think my soul just reentered my body,” you said.

Jensen closed his eyes and let the water cascade down his face. “If this is what heaven feels like, I’ve clearly been living wrong.”

You glanced at him, water dripping down the curve of his jaw and shoulders. Even soaked and overheated, he looked unfairly good.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re considering breaking your ‘no touching’ rule.”

You smirked and moved closer under the water. “I might be rethinking my position.”

“Oh yeah?”

You leaned up and kissed his jaw, cool water making everything feel a little less heavy, a little less hot. “Let’s make some poor decisions.”

And Jensen—sweaty, shirtless, laughing despite the heat—wrapped an arm around your waist, and said the most dangerous words of the day:

“God, I love Texas.”

[paucubarsisimp]

Pablo Torre and the reader make a Tiktok trend where the reader calls Pablo's friends and parents to see if they would cover up a cheating or infidelity for Pablo.

Ex: the reader calls Pablo's mother and asks her if he is at home, that she has been calling him and he has not answered and the last thing he said was that he was going to his parents' house for dinner.

And likewise with his classmates, the surprise is that none of them would cover up something like that to Pablo and some even call him and write to him very upset to ask him where he is and who he is with and if he is cheating on the reader or not.

cheating prank

pairing: pablo torre x reader

summary: in which you test pablo's family and friends to see if they would cover for him cheating

warnings: none!

a/n: im sick :(

it started as a joke. one of those viral trends you’d seen floating around online. call your boyfriend’s friends and family, pretend you think he’s cheating, and see if they’d cover for him.

pablo was half-asleep on the couch when you brought it up.

“you’re chaotic,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

“you’re not curious?”

he opened one eye. “not even a little. they like you too much. i’d get exposed in under ten seconds.”

you grinned. “let’s test it.”

he groaned dramatically but didn’t protest. “fine. go ahead. ruin my peace.”

you started with his mom.

you put the phone on speaker and cleared your throat.

“hola, señora torre,” you said sweetly. “sorry for bothering you. is pablo with you right now?”

she paused. “no, cariño. i haven’t seen him today. why?”

“he said he was going to have dinner with you, but he hasn’t answered my calls in hours…”

her tone changed immediately—concern sharpening her words. “no, he didn’t say anything about dinner. are you alright? do you want me to call him? maybe he lost his phone—”

you rushed to stop her. “no, no, it’s okay. just checking.”

you hung up and turned to pablo. “she passed.”

his phone buzzed within seconds. mamá calling.

he let out a heavy sigh. “i am never hearing the end of this.”

next, you called alejandro. pablo sat up straighter, suddenly alert.

“hola?” alejandro picked up after two rings.

“hey,” you said casually. “just wondering—is pablo with you?”

“what?” he sounded confused. “no, i haven’t seen him since practice. why? is something wrong?”

“he said he was going to your place, but he’s not answering.”

immediately, alejandro got serious. “do you want me to call him? should i come over? wait—is he cheating on you? what the hell?”

you choked on a laugh, trying to stay in character. “i don’t know. probably not. i was just checking.”

“call him again. and if he doesn’t answer, i’m texting him. this is shady.”

you hung up, and pablo’s phone lit up with messages

bro answer the phone now

she just called me—what is going on

you better not be doing something stupid

“he’s spiraling,” pablo muttered. “i can feel it.”

you smiled. “they love me.”

“they’re terrified of you.”

the last call was to a mutual friend. someone you both knew well—someone who, if anyone, might be tempted to lie.

you hit call and put it on speaker.

“hey,” they answered. “what’s up?”

“quick question,” you said, keeping your voice casual. “pablo said he was heading to yours tonight. is he there?”

a pause. then, hesitant: “um… yeah. yeah, he’s in the bathroom.”

you raised an eyebrow. pablo looked up at the ceiling.

“really?” you said, already smiling. “because he’s sitting right next to me.”

your friend let out a sigh. “okay, yeah. no way. i tried. i give up. i’m not getting involved in this. i value my life.”

pablo laughed. “coward.”

“smart coward,” they replied. “you’re on your own, bro.”

later that night, lying next to pablo in bed, you replayed the whole thing on your phone, still grinning.

“not a single one of them lied for you,” you said, smug.

pablo stared at the ceiling. “i have no allies.”

you kissed his cheek. “that’s because they’re all on my side.”

“i know,” he mumbled. “i could disappear for an hour and they’d start printing missing posters just to hand them to you.”

you curled up closer, proud. “they just care about me.”

he groaned. “i need new friends.”

“you can’t. they like me more.”

“unbelievable,” he muttered, but didn’t pull away.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added!

[killmeleatherface]

I’m Here Part 2

This is the second part to my ongoing series.

Here’s Part 1

AN: hey yall! Loving Shawn Hatosy and Jack right now. I think this is going to be an angsty, yearning, will they, won’t they, type of thing. I’m not good at writing steamy stuff, but maybe I’ll get back there some day. Otherwise I do love a good Jack Abbot love story :)

TW: medical setting, no procedures, mention of Alzheimer’s (main characters mother has it). I think that’s it? Lemme know!

—

You really had intended to leave for good. You never imagined yourself standing in front of the ivory walls of the sterile environment before you. Pittsburgh Medical Center. Three years away and even seeing the double doors of the emergency department sent you head spinning into visions. Flashbacks. Past memories. Past traumas. Past people.

That fated night on the top of the roof.

You can’t let yourself think about that. What that night meant and what it did. How it didn’t just gradually coax your feelings out of the void, it grabbed a hold and choked it out of you instead. You loved Jack and he loved you, but he was marrying someone else. Married someone else…

That was the last time you’d been here and the last time you’d seen Jack. The last time you worked at the Pitt. After he’d finally let you through to the staircase, you burst into tears, finally letting years of pent up emotions go. By the time you’d gotten to the ground floor you had already decided to take the position at Mayo and quit immediately. You couldn’t work with Jack Abbot anymore. The thought of having to look at the hazel green eyes that used to only softened for you now belonging to someone who had probably long forgotten about your existence. Your mind swirled with endless scenarios.

You assumed Jack Abbot still workers worked here, you could almost bet on it. This place was his drug, his getaway, his home away from home. Everyone knew that. It’d have to take a life altering event to get him away from this place.

Like maybe his favorite resident (Best friend? Confidante? Mistress? All of the above?) not becoming an attending and instead taking a position twelve hours away without notice, or at least a goodbye. Of course Jack had every right to be hurt. But that was years ago. He’d moved on and married Rachel and probably had a had or two by now. That last part makes inside of you feel odd, like something is pulling you deep into an ocean.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Welcome back to the ED Doctor Garcia.” The blonde haired nurse says with a smile and her arms thrown up. Dana Evans, the sweet head nurse who had your back a miriad of times. The one who talked you down when you needed it, who talked you up when you really needed it, and the one who knew about you and Jack, even if neither of you admitted it or even spoke it out loud. She was good that way. Like everyone’s mom.

—

She called you before you got on to a plane that night. You had just thrown the last of whatever you could find in your room into a large suitcase, giving a final scan of your room. The room where most pivotal moments in your life happened.

You didn’t answer her.

“Hon, I heard you’re leaving on a plane tonight. Jack just told me some big news, said he can’t get a hold of you and I..well I told him I’d try because it’s important. Call me back sweet kid.” The voicemail you’d finally listened to a week later spoke.

You took another look around your room. You lived here through residency, studying endless nights with a Samara about whatever the other could think of. You became best friends with Samara here. You cried in here. You laughed in here. You lived the best and worst parts of a lot of your adult life in here. And now you were leaving it. You thankfully already had most everything boxed up anyways, your lease end matching up with your fellowship ending. Coincidence.

While zipping up your suitcase due to a yelling Samara announcing the Uber was there, you spotted a familiar piece of black fabric. It was a hoodie, and not yours or your roommates, but someone else - Jack’s. You instantly gravitate towards it, pulling it up to your nose. It still smells like Jack- mint, lime, antiseptic. At another call from Samara you stuff the hoodie in your carry on and bolt out the door.

You had a month off and you were originally had no plans, just thinking you’d unpack and get used to your new place, maybe take a spa day with Samara. You hadn’t thought that far.

When Jack kissed you, it changed everything for you. You had to get out of there. Out of the hospital. Out of Pittsburgh. Out of the state. And when you got home and decided that wasn’t enough you convinced Samara to come with you to Ireland. Ireland turned into a sort of world tour neither of you planned, but thoroughly enjoyed. Thankful for your dads ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you as a kid and your mom and I divorced so spend whatever you want’ credit card. While you were there you’d accepted the job in Minnesota officially. And that’s where you’d been for the last three years.

—

Until your mom needed someone to look after her and when you got back to town and realized that wasn’t the extent of it, you had to put your dear mother in a nursing home. She was deteriorating faster than you thought, and needed to be under constant supervision. Thankfully she’d gotten a spot at Shady Rose and could be with other elders experiencing the same symptoms as her.

“Hi Dana.” You smile back, genuinely happy to see a friendly face. You always loved her, and even got Christmas cards emailed to you every year. Then, throughout the year emails became variations of updates about her, her kids, other nurses, doctors, who was an attending, who wasn’t going to last through residency. Then the emails became “The nurses miss you. I miss you.” Then the emails started mentioning Jack and you stopped paying attention, stopped replying.

“Glad you’re back. Heard about your mom…let me know if there’s anything I can do.” She offers, and you give a head nod in response, choosing to focus your attention on the admit board in front of you, with her passing behind you and putting a friendly hand on your shoulder. She was probably on her way to help someone else who needed it. Dana, the departments surrogate mother, a woman worth a thousand men, the best charge nurse, shoulder to cry on, and friend you could ask for. Damn, you missed her.

As you’re trying to preoccupy yourself with anything else, a loud voice booms, “Rounds!” This causes any and all available staff to staff to gather in the center of the department and listen to the head attending brief the incoming staff on the past shift.

“Okay everyone, last night was pretty tame considering. A11 and D18 need to be continuously monitored for 24 hours but other than that, they can be discharged. But people, that waiting room is packed already. Let’s pick up the pace if you can. I know, I know. You’re all tired and doing your best. Trust me, I know.” Doctor Michael Robinavitch offers. His best friend Jack Abbot looks up at him.

“Let’s do it.” Jack announces, clapping his hands and beginning to walk away.

“Wait, guys! Just another minute!” Robby says loudly, trying to stop the crowd from leaving.

“We have a new attending starting today, everyone. Let’s introduce her, make her feel welcome.” Robby offers.

Huh, a new attending starting the same day you come back? Maybe they’d be someone you could meet and bond with over being the new kid again. You’re in a daze thinking and don’t hear him announce.

“Dr. Garcia, can you come up here just for a second?”

“Dr. Garcia?”

“Uh.” He laughs. “Dr. Garcia, are you here?”

No, no, no. He cannot be talking about you. You’re not new! Well yeah you’re a new attending here, but you’re not a new employee here. This cannot be about you. Robby is calling you front and center, in front of those old and new, and familiar…

The crowd is looking around, not sure who Dr. Garcia is. Suddenly a hand pushes your lower back. “Daphne, honey, that’s you. Robby’s talking about you!” Dana is pushing you forward now. Finally you give and push through the crowd until it opens to the two men in front of you. They both freeze, Robby mid stance, and Jack crossed arms.

Robby immediately clocks what’s going on and who you are. He glances at Jack who is standing with a stone cold expression. Robby walks over to you and motions to the crowd.

“Everyone, this is the new attending, Daphne Garcia. Treat her like you would me or Jack, she’s a good one.” He looks down at you.

You smile and do a half wave to the crowd. How embarrassing. You want to melt into a puddle and disappear into the ground where you stand. And the worst part is, you feel the unmistakable heat of Jack standing behind you. So familiar, but also like lava, so beautiful and mesmerizing with its trance of colors, but toxic if touched.

Again, you’re in a daze of heat, embarrassment and at a complete loss of what to do. You don’t hear Robby telling everyone to have a good day and get to work, the crowd actually dispersing for good. Once Robby steps in front of you, you come back.

“Good to have you back, Garcia. It’s nice to have a familiar face here again.” Robby offers, leaning over the nurses desk to grab a chart. He throws a smiler and heads off.

You still haven’t turned away. You don’t dare, because if you do, it becomes real. The person you tried your damndest to forget, the one you cried endless rivers of tears about, the one who gave you nightmares so vivid you could’ve sworn he was in the bed next to you. When you finally gain the gumption to turn around, there’s a ghost behind you. Nothing.

“Welcome back to the Pitt.” You mumble to yourself, grabbing your stethoscope and starting your shift.

—

[holylulusworld]

Daddy’s best friend (4)

Summary: You come home for the last time before finishing your study. Bad timing. Not only does your father’s best friend occupy your room, but your father has a new woman by his side too. 

Pairing: Ari Levinson x brat!Reader

Warnings: language, angst, your father is an ass, Sunny is the worst, mentions of toxic relationship, tension, daddy kink, arguments, protective Ari, hurt & comfort

A/N: It's been a long time...

Catch up here: Daddy’s best friend (3.5)

Daddy’s best friend masterlist

It’s hard and painful to look around your room. You called this place home for as long as you remember, and now these memories are tainted by a blonde bitch.

Ari gently places his hand on your shoulder, making you flinch as you were lost in thought.

“You don’t have to be here,” he murmurs and pats your shoulder. “I can do this for you. Please let me know what you would like to take with you."

“It’s time to grow up, right?” You huff and look around your room. So many memories, good and bad, hidden in one room. “I don’t need the furniture. We will look through the rest. What I don’t take with me, we can throw away.”

“Where do we start?” Ari softly asks. He looks around the room, feeling sad for you. “I’m sorry he acted like this because of some girl.”

“I always defend him, you know,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “People said he made Mom leave. They accused him of cheating and being a bad husband. Some even said he hurt her.”

Ari doesn’t know what to say when you look at him with teary eyes.

“That’s…tough for a child. I’m sorry you had to lose your mom and hear the rumors blaming your father.

You look at Ari, giving him a cracked smile. “I always defended him. Dad was my hero for raising me alone, and I didn’t mind that he brought women home. Even the ones half his age. He never once put them first. Now he changed so much, and I wonder if the rumors were true.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ari honestly says. “He never talked about your mother, and I never asked. It’s a guy’s thing, you know.”

“Yeah, I get it,” you grumble before turning your attention back toward the task. “We should start with the heavy stuff. My books and photo albums.”

“Got it.” Ari is happy to start packing and stop talking about the painful memories. “I’ll get some more boxes.”

You nod and start putting the first books into one of the boxes Ari carries upstairs. There’s no use in waiting for your father to come to his senses.

This time it’s different. This time, he seems to have lost his mind while fucking Sunny’s brains out. This time, he chose someone else over you—his daughter.

While you try to pack your things as fast as possible, Ari walks back into your room with more boxes. “Alright, what do you want me to pack?”

“You could start with the shelf over there. All books come with me. I need to check on the rest first.”

“I’m your man,” Ari jokes and gets to work. He takes the books off the shelf while you get a box out from under your bed. “The juicy stuff?” He asks when you look through the stuff in the box.

“Pictures of my mom and other shit,” you reply with a shrug. “I guess I’ll take it with me. Irreplaceable memories and such.”

“It’s better to keep it and decide what to do with it later,” Ari easily agrees. He works fast and packs more books and your photo albums, while you move to your wardrobe to look through your clothes.

“Hmm…no…yes…no,” You throw clothes all over the room, only taking the ones your father never liked. Sunny can wear the ones he bought for you from now on. “Ari, can you empty the commode next? I’ll take all of my lingerie with me.”

“Lingerie,” he growls, immediately turning to open the first drawer of the commode. “Silk, lace…” Ari is having fun rummaging in your drawer.

“Ari, don’t get distracted. I promise you can play with my panties as much as you want to after we leave this shitty place,” you tut and go back to packing more of your things.

“I want to see you in all of them.” He laughs when you blow him a kiss. “I mean it, sweetness. All I can think about is ripping them off your cute ass.”

“Naughty,” you coo, and wiggle your ass. “Let’s get the job done, and we can leave this place and never look back.”

Your father doesn’t even spare you as much as a glance when you walk out of the house, your last duffle bag tucked under your arm.

Ari carried everything out of the house, and his friends helped put it into the truck.

While you glance at your father, he’s busy chatting with Sunny. They truly have no shame. It feels like your father is celebrating your departure.

“Well, this is goodbye, Father,” you snap at your father, making him flinch. “I hope your whore is worth it. When she has had enough of you, I won’t be around to pick you up again. Fuck you!”

“Honey bunny,” your father sighs, but you don’t look back. Walking away is the only way to cope with the pain you feel. You’re not sad or even mad—you’re disappointed, and that’s even worse.

Ari takes the bag out of your hand, glaring in your father’s direction.

“Y/F/N, I’ll take care of Y/N from now on. Don’t worry. She’ll be better off without a father forgetting about his daughter for some pussy.”

“Uh—are you sure?” Looking around Ari’s guestroom, filled with all your belongings, you are suddenly aware that you have invaded his home. “I can leave and spend the summer at my apartment.”

“No,” Ari stops you from leaving. He grabs your hands to place them on his chest. “We will make this work, okay. If you want to be only friends, we can do that too. No catch, Y/N. I’m here to help.”

“Here to help, huh?” You drop your eyes to his crotch. “What about that grand prime dick you promised to me?” Dropping your hand to his crotch, you cup him roughly. “I think we should celebrate. I moved in with you the best way possible…”

Tags in reblog.

[sethrollinsxreader]

Took photos from @rollins4eva

It was a humid Saturday morning, and the smell of chalk and effort clung to the walls of the downtown CrossFit gym. Seth Rollins sweaty, bearded, and looking unfairly good in his black Superman tee and striped pastel shorts was already deep into his workout. He was grunting through sets of rope climbs while casually tossing playful glances at Y/N, who sat perched on a plyo box with her iced coffee like a proud but puzzled spectator.

Y/N was no stranger to the gym. She could spend an hour on the treadmill, breeze through a Zumba class, and still look like she walked off a skincare ad. But Seth’s kind of gym? It was another world entirely sledgehammers, battle ropes, weighted vests. She called it “the land where cardio goes to die.”

Seth, catching his breath and wiping his brow, strolled over with that grin. The one that meant mischief. The one that melted resolve.

“Babe,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead, “you ever thought about trying a real workout?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying my cardio isn’t real?”

Seth laughed. “No, no just saying there’s a whole world beyond elliptical machines. Come on, do a few sets with me. Just try it.”

“Absolutely not.”

But somehow maybe it was the grin, maybe it was his sheer enthusiasm she found herself lacing up her sneakers and walking toward the rig.

Seth was gentle at first. A couple of bodyweight squats, some modified push-ups. Y/N powered through them with only minimal grumbling. She was even starting to enjoy it… until the burpees started.

“Who invented these? Why do you people do this to yourselves?” she wheezed, halfway through her fifth one.

“You’re doing great!” Seth cheered from behind a loaded barbell. “You’ve got this, baby!”

Y/N shot him a look that could have set off the fire alarm. “If I die here, tell my mom it was your fault.”

The rope climbs were the final straw. Y/N stood at the base of the thick, coiled monster like it had personally offended her. She jumped. Slid. Tried again. Nope. Gravity won every time.

Seth, still hyped and supportive, jogged over. “Alright, alright. Maybe we save that one for next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” she muttered, flopping dramatically onto a mat like she was auditioning for a soap opera. “I am not built for CrossFit. I’m built for playlists and incline walks.”

Seth dropped beside her, laughing. “Fair. But hey you tried. That’s what counts. And you looked amazing doing it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You owe me brunch.”

“Deal. Pancakes. And maybe a little yoga afterward?”

She raised a brow. “You just can’t stop, can you?”

Seth leaned in, kissing her cheek. “Not when I’ve got the cutest gym partner in the world.”

Y/N was certain she’d never walked slower in her life. Her legs were jelly, her arms felt like they’d been borrowed from someone much weaker, and her sports bra had made a vow to never forgive her. She leaned heavily on Seth’s arm as they exited the gym and headed toward their favorite brunch spot a couple blocks away Sunny Side Up, a cozy little cafe with mismatched mugs and miracle-level mimosas.

Seth, of course, was bouncing with post-workout energy. He looked like he could climb another rope, do twenty more deadlifts, and still run home. His pastel shorts swung smugly with each step.

“Can’t believe I survived,” Y/N groaned as they walked in and slid into their usual booth. “That was barbaric.”

“You crushed it,” Seth said, practically glowing. “Even your dramatic collapse was elite-level.”

“Please,” she deadpanned. “I collapsed in style.”

A waitress came over, smiling knowingly at them. “The usual?”

“Yes,” Seth nodded. “And extra whipped cream. She earned it.”

Y/N slumped into the booth like it was a cloud. “Make that two mimosas. One for me and one for the ghost of my quads.”

Moments later, the table was full of food: a tower of protein pancakes for Seth, with peanut butter and banana slices artfully stacked; for Y/N, a breakfast burrito the size of her forearm and a pile of golden hash browns glistening in the sun.

Seth dug in with the enthusiasm of a man who just squatted a small car. Y/N picked up her mimosa first, sipping it with the air of a woman who had been through things.

“I hope you know,” she said between bites of hash brown, “this doesn’t mean I’m joining your crazy workouts now.”

“Of course not,” Seth said with a smirk. “I just wanted to see you in gym shorts and a headband. Mission accomplished.”

She kicked him lightly under the table.

“But,” he added, reaching across to steal a hash brown, “I gotta admit it was nice having you there. Even if you gave the rope climb a death glare.”

Y/N grinned, setting down her fork. “You’re lucky I like you, CrossFit King.”

Seth leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, eyes full of that soft sparkle he saved just for her. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it, baby. I just picked the best brunch partner in the world.”

They toasted with their mimosas his a polite sip, hers a triumphant gulp and for a moment, the soreness, sweat, and rope trauma faded into a quiet, syrupy happiness.

By the time they got home, the food coma had fully settled in.

Y/N padded into the apartment and immediately peeled off her sneakers with a groan so dramatic it could’ve won an Oscar. She left them by the door like abandoned soldiers from a fitness war. Seth followed behind her, still humming a tune he’d picked up at the gym, acting as if he hadn’t just burned a thousand calories before brunch.

“I’m never moving again,” Y/N announced, collapsing face-first onto the couch. “This is my final resting place. You can bury me with an ice pack and a bottle of ibuprofen.”

Seth chuckled, tossing a blanket over her and plopping down beside her. “Told you I’d go easy on you.”

She peeked at him from beneath the throw. “Easy? That was CrossFit Lite? What’s the full version, a Spartan race through lava?”

He leaned over and kissed her temple. “You’re tougher than you think.”

“I’m also smarter than I look,” she muttered. “Which is why I’m never doing that again.”

“Fair,” Seth said, kicking his feet up and pulling her into his lap. “But you earned all the post-workout snuggles. That’s the real reward.”

Y/N sighed as she curled into him, her head resting against his chest. He smelled like his cologne, faint sweat, and the faintest trace of maple syrup. She would’ve stayed in that exact spot forever if her thighs didn’t remind her of every squat she foolishly agreed to do.

Seth ran a hand gently through her hair, slow and soothing. “You really did good today.”

“I did medium,” she murmured sleepily. “At best.”

“That’s more than enough for me.”

The TV played quietly in the background—a nature documentary neither of them was really watching. Outside, the afternoon sun peeked through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the living room.

Y/N shifted slightly to look up at him. “You know I love you, right?”

Seth smiled, eyes warm. “Even though I made you burpee?”

“Especially because you didn’t laugh when I fell doing one.”

“Oh, I absolutely laughed. I just did it on the inside.”

She smacked his chest lightly, but the grin never left her face. She closed her eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull her further into comfort.

And just like that, surrounded by warmth, soreness, and syrupy satisfaction, the cardio queen and the CrossFit king fell into the softest kind of silence the kind that says, this is home.