#since it’s supposed to look like it’s from the 40s

[venmondiese]

BELATED ANNIVERSARY

-ˋˏ| summary: With war going on, Tom forgets about your aniversary, and tries to make it better... in the same day. ✧ | Pairing: Tom Bennett x reader ✧ | word count: 6.3k ✧ | Warnings: 40's mindset, mentions of war..., just fluff and comfort.

✧ | note: this was supposed to be uploaded for valentines... but i didn't finished on time and then things happened, BUT here it is. two months late. Special thanks to the people who gave me suggestions in this post! thanks to @yoursweetheartsrevenge @ladylokianna @slytherincursebreaker love ya!

“What’s that dress all about?”

Vera was a tiny bundle of joy, no doubt, squirmy and she’d let some squeals from time to time. Lois would knit clothes and things from her. Tom still danced around the subject, he didn’t judge Lois and he loved his niece, so he never asked unnecessary questions… yet. 

“We’re going to meet Harry on tomorrow, so you don’t need to babysit” Lois says, as she sits Vera by Tom’s side -he can’t still believe he named her daughter after the fucking canary- “It’s a special day for you, innit?”

“What, it’s my birthday?” Tom asks playfully, smirking as Vera babbles.

Lois looks at him with a raised eyebrow, as she takes out the washed diapers, and she starts folding Vera’s clothes.

“No, it’s your anniversary” Lois says as if amused that he had no idea what day tomorrow was “What, you ain’t taking your darlin’ out?”

“Are you joking?”

Lois was in fact, not joking. His anniversary was, in fact, tomorrow and he had nothing prepared.

He had to have his shit together in less than one day. He tried to get reservations in fancy restaurants to no avail, since everything was full in advance. He tried to get the house alone for you and him, but his father looked at him unimpressed as he could not simply spend all day somewhere else. Fine, let’s have his dad in too. 

He could get a reservation for the new ferris wheel that had been making a fuss in town. It had been from ages now, he supposed that with the war, it was not a priority. He could get one ticket, since he knew you wanted to try it and he thanked God, as much as he wasn’t the most religious bloke, but sometimes he had to thank the Big man. 

And, since Lois was busy with Vera, he took upon the role of cooking sometimes, and he knew how to make spaghetti with meatballs. Nothing fancy, but he could make it work. (And besides he had to make the dish for three, but hopefully he can convince his old man to eat in his room)

Next thing on his list was having his formal attire as clean as possible, so he had someone wash it and iron it for him. Formal attire? His uniform was better anyway, since he was discharged a few weeks ago. He could wash it and look even more formal.

He had the bad habit, at least before the war, to knock on the window of your room, asking to be let in by you. 

“Doll” It’s his voice as he knocks on the window, hoping you’d open up.

It was always a sight to his eyes to see you in your nightgown, ready to get on bed. It was a sight not everyone could get of you.

You appear into his view, with a raised eyebrow and your arms crossed. You open the window, not really welcoming with a kiss and a hug as he is used to. 

“You forgot about our anniversary” it’s the first thing you say to him. He sighs, a lazy smile on his lips as he thinks how to win you over again. 

“How could you think that?” He says, trying to hold your hips, but you weren’t budging. “Look, I might have not remembered, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have anything planned.” 

“It is tomorrow and you just appear now”

“I’ll make it up to you” he promises, leaning to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Will you let me do so?”

Even if you seem reluctant, you nod softly after giving it some thought. You didn’t seem quite confident in his promise, but it was better than being left like a fool. 

He sits on the bed, and shamelessly pats his lap so you can take a seat in there. “Forgive me, doll. How foolish of me, to forget about my darling” he says, caressing your face. “I have a little something prepared, but after lunch, it is.”

“Where are we going, then?”

“That’s the thing with surprises, they are a secret”

“I want to know what to wear” you tell him with a raised eyebrow. “I intend to look pretty”

“Why don’t you model for me, hm?” He asks with a smirk. 

“Do not be crass” You say smiling “I have a few new dresses.”

“And do you have a few kisses to spare for this poor man?”

You roll your eyes amused yet you press a kiss on his lips, which he delights himself in accepting eagerly, kissing your lips and holding your waist to keep you close to him. 

“You only need to look pretty for me, which you always do” He says pressing kisses against your lips, and he separates and adds “And wear something that will drive me crazy”

“You have to ask for my mum’s permission to take me out, you know?” 

“Of course I do know that” he says smirking “And I’ll do so, and then we’ll have a wonderful day together.”

He sees your sweet face, and feels bad to have forgotten such a day, trying to make it up with kisses, and hopefully, a great day tomorrow. 

“You came just to invite me?”

“Mmmm, no. I came to see your face, to have you in my arms… to hear your precious voice…”  

“You are…” you say, rolling your eyes. “You do know that my family is in the next rooms, right?”

“I won’t wake your ma or pa, love”

“You better not, because there is no chance they’ll allow me to be with you if they know you sneak here”

“Why? I am a charmin’ lad, innit?” he says cheekily, making you smile.

“You do have a reputation, love” you remind him. “And I wouldn’t like to stop being your girl”

That has him smiling genuinely, his heart fluttering at your sweet words.

“I don’t want that either” he says softly, kissing your cheek. “I’ll better get going, then. There is a day full o’surprises tomorrow”

“Till tomorrow then…” you whisper, following him to the window.

He turns back to press a gentle kiss on your lips, his tall frame over yours. “Until tomorrow, doll. Just you and me.”

Once he got home, he tried to leave everything ready, but he slept awfully the night before. He was so anxious that you'd kill him. You were the type to resent when people forgot about your birthday, not in an envious jealous way, but in a sad-puppy-face way. And since it was your anniversary?

Even when Vera cried first thing in the morning, which usually woke him up, he was already awake, putting on his suit, and trying to look spotless, and not get too much brylcreem on his hair. He needed to smoke so badly, but he was afraid he would stink to cigarettes when going to your house, and give a bad impression to your mother.

Great heavens, your mother. What will she say when he asks for permission to take you out for Anniversary on the same day? He was so screwed. He always asked with anticipation, much more because he knew you parents valued it. 

He had known your mother a handful of times, was very protective of you and your siblings, and she was not easily impressed. It was as if nothing he ever did was good enough, and that… was an odd feeling. He was always polite, trying to use his best posh accent with her, even offering himself to say grace before eating, but she never seemed quite pleased with him. 

And in honesty, he could see it. You were too good for him, and he always tried his best. He made you laugh, he was a gentleman, he never did something you would despise. 

He knocked rhythmically three times, sighing as he nervously held the flowers. His hair was practically stiff from using too much brylcreem, and his perfume was a bit too much. He could swear he had stung his fingers with the thorn of the roses and he didn’t smoke a single cigarette all morning to avoid smelling bad. 

“Mr. Bennett.” Your mother greets him, and he nods. She opens the main door, and she steps back to allow him to enter. 

“Good morning, Mrs….” He says softly, and he sees you in the back.

He wanted to hold you tightly, kissing your cheeks and calling you his girl… if you were alone, that was.  

“Are those for me?” You ask, moved, with a soft smile turning in your face.

“Eh… no, these are for your mother…” he says a bit awkwardly, and stiffed up before handling the roses to your mother in a chivalry gesture. 

Your mother raises an eyebrow, and takes them, to inspect them. “Put these in water” She says simply, a silent way to tell you to go away. 

You put them in a vase in the kitchen, and you quickly walk to the stairs to see what they are talking about. Your sister, Lydia, was already peeking from there. 

“What are they saying?” you ask her softly, curious to see what they are talking about. You saw your Tom, so self aware and stiff as he tried to make a good impression and take that wayward reputation of his go away. 

“He wanted to ask something important” your sister says softly.

You open your mouth, and say “You think he wants to marry me?” 

“I think he is just a bloody fool who forgot your anniversary” your sister says softly. “He is all shy trying to make it better, it’s too late, it’s past midday”

“Hey, language” you say softly, but it was half true, by the way he nodded when your mother scolded him about asking permission hours before taking you out. “He didn’t forget, he just… he has a lot going on..”

“Yeah, right”

You got ready as fast as a girl could. Pick a nice dress, and your sister did your hair as you applied makeup and lipstick to your face. If you were taking long, whatever, he could wait, after all, he had forgotten partially about it. 

You were distressed about it, yes. Tom and you had been together for a while,. He was your darling and you were his, and an anniversary is quite important for every couple, and everytime you thought he would tell you his plans for it, he never did.

You were a bit shy when your friends reminded you of it, when you had to pray that Tom would invite you to do something exciting soon. You could invite him, but you weren't sure if he would like that. 

Tom had a plan; he had more than one trick under his sleeve. Knowing people in town had its perks when he was this desperate. 

“Look at ya” he says, as you get down stairs with a smile, and your mum waits by his side. “You look absolutely gorgeous love” 

You get by his side, squinting your eyes at him. He knew it would be hard to win your forgiveness, but he was willing to do it. 

“You behave well” your mother says to you, before you two leave the house.

“I’ll bring her before sunset, ma’am” he says, his composure still a bit rigid.

Tom was glad you didn’t scold him in front of your mother, but you waited when you two were alone.

“You really forgot about it?! You said you.. you had things planned” You say as you two walked in the street. 

“I know I fucked up, alright? I should've asked ya to be my valentine.”  he says in self defense.

“you should have! why didn’t you?” 

“Because… I forgot, love, between the bloody war and…” he says, as he stops on his tracks to look at you, he is truly remorseful “It's just been a right mad time lately, y’know…, what with everything going on and all…”  

You look at him, your expression is sympathetic as you knew the war had taken a toll on him. He didn’t speak about it, but you could see it sometimes. He just came different, even if he was the same charming and cheeky man, there was simply something that was different. 

“Give me another chance, yeah? Let me make it up to you.” He says with a huge grin, as he takes your hand to playfully pull you closer to him.

“Mmm, fine, aye, but I am not an easy lass, Tom Bennett. You have to win me” you say looking at him, and you can see his cheeky smirk slowly appearing on his face, yet relief accompanies his expression.

“You ain’t gonna regret it” 

Taking the bus was particularly anticlimactic for an anniversary, but Tom made it all fun. He let you sit by the window, and he started to point and say all kinds of things about the people in the streets, the cats, the dogs, the houses. 

He leans closer to you, whispering all kinds of silly comments, about how a man was ridiculously wearing a jacket made too big for him, a woman wearing something from the past century, and on and on. He tries to make you laugh, and from time to time, he leans to kiss your cheek sweetly.

“And where’s our stop?” You ask him softly. 

“Aye, doll, that’s the secret, innit? I have tons of things planned” he says smugly, as he looks so different with his sailor suit, but he is, after all, still Tommy. 

You really liked that he was still him. You have heard of men after the Great War, coming back different. Surely, they were the same person, they lived in the same houses, had the same families and jobs. Yet there was something off about them, their lives changed, and it was as if there was not a coming back to before.

And you were terrified for Tom. You cried when saying goodbye to him, you begged him not to, all to no avail. He soothed you, but pulled away to take the train and leave for Liverpool, before going on a ship to be part of the War. 

“Mhm” you say, not impressed as you raise an eyebrow with the curves of your mouth turning up in a smile as he leans to leave a little peck on your cheek. 

“come on, doll, trust in this good ol’ sailor” 

He loved when you played hard to get, he had to be honest. He liked the challenge of changing your mind, it was refreshing. And there was always a different way of doing it. 

“Why are you wearing your uniform?” You ask him, as you walk by the center of Manchester. 

“It gets me benefits” he whispers in your ear with a smirk. “In the pubs, I get free drinks”

“Aye, and lasses throwing themselves into your lap” you say stubbornly. 

He chuckles, looking at you as he takes your hand to kiss it gently, almost in a reverent way. “I ain’t have lasses throwing themselves at me” Tom says cheekily “Only one, and she is with me now” 

You roll your eyes, even when your lips curl into a smirk at his comments. He was such a cheeky flirt, and he knew it very well. 

“Look, they are doing a puppeteer show” you say softly to him, which he nods. 

Perfect. He thinks.

“Why don’t ya stay here and watch it while I go to get ya something, eh?”

“Let’s go together” you say softly, looking at him. “I don’t even like it that much…”

“No, no, no, no, doll. I’m spoilin’ ya and makin’ it up to ya, no need to get ya ‘ead in a tizz about it. I’ll just pop out in the front street and come back before ya can even miss me. I’ll buy some things we need for later”

He was playing with fire, he knew it damn well.  He crosses the street, walking towards an Italian store where he knew they sold pretty good pasta to make at home. It took him a few minutes and all, but he finally got the ingredients left. 

With the package in a bag, he walks hurriedly back to you. Leaving you alone was already rude as it sounds, and he certainly doesn’t want to leave you alone, or make it seem as if he was uninterested in you. Lost in his hurried walk, he almost stumbles across a small flower stand. It was perfect for you, you loved roses and plants. 

 He can see you, on the other side of the street getting impatient. He left you watching some puppeteer show as if you were a bloody child, and he knew you’d berate him for it. 

“Hi. What kind of flowers are the prettiest?” He asks the owner of the flower stand, a bit hurried up with this because he wants to take you to the next place quickly, and not to make you too mad thanks to the wait. 

“Ehhhh…” the man says, glazing over at the many flowers he has on display. “All of ‘em are pretty”

“Aye, but I want a proper lush bouquet”

“With what colours?”

“With reet nice colours, bright n’all that, y’know, red, white or blue…” 

“The normal one costs around… 20, and it could be wrapped with ribbons and such…”

“I’ll take that one” he says, taking the money out and giving it quickly, hoping it will be quick.

Tom couldn’t be more exasperated, as the time he was taking in settling a nice bouquet together was awfully long. It was just flowers, and all combinations were nice and pretty. 

“no need for it to be fancy…” he says as he sees the old man picking some flowers almost too carefully to set them together. 

“Yeah, no worries” 

Tom looked at you, arms crossed and annoyed. You were going to kill him. He saw how the man took his time, picking small flowers, and taking some leaves out of the bouquet. 

“Can be quick?”

“Certainly, sir” the man says. “Would you like a small letter to go with it?”

“Aye, sure…” he says absent mindedly, and he frowns slightly when the paper and pen are given to him. “I thought it came with an already written message…”

“It is better to admit your true feelings…”  

Tom sighs, he was losing time over this and it was causing him a headache. 

The paper wasn't that big, it was almost like those business cards, and he tried to be as delicate as possible as he leaned to write on it. As he writes it, he tries to think about his feelings, being concise yet thoughtful. 

After a few moments, he tuckles the card and places it in the bouquet, carefully between the roses. The bouquet was perfect, and he could hopefully earn your forgiveness. He would hate to see your disappointed face all the date, instead of a happy and carefree expression.

“Thank you, this is perfect” he says softly, even if it took the seller an awful long time, but whatever, it was at least nice. 

He feels as if time got wasted and his chances of making it right to you were going awfully wrong. He spent so little time with you the last months, thanks to the war, and he didn’t want the next memories you had of him become bitter and sour because he forgot an important date and everything was going against his plans.

With The bouquet in hand, he crosses the street almost too quickly and imprudently, but he has a charming grin when he gets back to where you are. He might have taken some ten minutes, more or less, to take all of this, but he thinks a romantic gesture never dies. 

“Sorry for keepin’ ya waiting, doll.” He says as you look unimpressed, arms crossed and your expression a bit upset. “I got you, though, a nice somethin’ to remember me…”

Your face lights up considerably upon seeing the pretty bouquet, you loved flowers and plants. He knew all about them thanks to you, because he loves to hear you talk about what you are passionate about, and obviously, feed your hobbies.

“It took longer than I anticipated, didn't mean to leave you here so long, and… and I was so nervous I gave your bouquet of roses to your mom.. and..” he tries to make it better “I wanted somethin’ nice for ya, y’know. I had to make it up for my special girl”

You sigh, rolling your eyes amused. How could you really be mad to this man? 

“It’s fine.” you say softly “Just don’t do it again” you say, seeing the bouquet and seeing the small letter, as you take it in your hand.

“I won’t” he promises, smiling softly as you take the letter tucked into the roses. “Go ahead, read the note”

“My heart is yours, now and forever.” You read the small letter with his messy handwriting, even if he tried his best to make it legible. “You signed off as Thomas?” you ask, the annoyance on your face going away as you smile.

“That’s my name, innit?” You roll your eyes as he grabs your hand to kiss it with a cheeky smirk on his lips. “I guess I went a little too formal, aye. But come on, we still have more to do”

“Good God” you say, as you definitely didn’t wear the right pair of shoes for this. “That’s a lot for a man who forgot–”

“I am making it up to you”  he reassures you, taking your hand in his. “And you’ll see why I am using my sailor suit” he smirks proud of himself as you two walk together in the park. 

It is only when you two reach the end of the Ferris Wheel that he keeps walking with you by his side.

“What do you have planned?” You ask incredulously as he skips the line, going straight up to the man checking the tickets.

“Nothing”

“Thomas, I know you-”

“I am usin’ my… acquaintances' for our lovely date. Do not fuss over it, love” he says shrugging, and he can be so annoying  “People look up to sailors, we are fighting for this bloody country. Might as well shorten the line to take the ferris wheel with ma’ darlin’.” he says with a cheeky smirk. 

“Unbelievable” you say, the curves of your mouth turning into a smile nonetheless. 

You try not to care for looks, Thomas walks confidently as if he had everything sorted out, which is quite horrifying as he has nothing planned by yesterday. 

Tom discreetfully (or maybe not so much) handles a small wad of cash to the man, who he takes it. "Thanks, mate," he whispers, taking his uniform hat off as he glances back at you briefly.

He guides you, your hand interlocked with his as he walks closer to the next gondola. 

“In you go, doll” 

“This is so wrong” you mumble amused, as you enter carefully on the ferris wheel. It was a two-seater, and open in the air. 

Tom settles the security bar in your laps, and he says “Aye, I am doing me best, love” 

“I am not complaining” you say, as the ferris wheel starts to slowly work. You look amazed by the technology of it, as he leans back and takes off his hat. 

“real nice, innit?” 

“it is…” you agree softly, leaning back as you hold the security bar. 

“sorry if it is rushed” he adds, as you two start going up. “I mean it”

You think for a few moments. “It’s fine.” you simply state “I am grateful for the chance of us being together, even if you forgot. War hasn’t been kind to everyone. And I appreciate that… even with all, you still tried to make it a nice day for me”

Tom hums, a slight smirk on his lips as he extends his arm to be around your shoulders, pressing you closer to him. 

“Of course” he murmurs, pressing a kiss on your cheek. 

You two remain silent for a bit, you rest your head on his shoulder as you see the view of the cities of Manchester. He is awfully quiet, knowing how chatty he could be, and you enjoy his presence, as best it might be thanks to the war. 

“It does have a nice view, you know” your tone is soft as you speak, the flowers he gave you on your lap, as you made sure they don’t slip to the ground and get crushed.

“That’s the idea, doll” he replies, his tone soft and intimate. “To get the best view and… Well, maybe sneak one kiss or two one we’re at the top” 

You open your mouth, a chuckle leaves your lips as you lean back to see his face “Thomas!”

“What, you don’t wan’ a kiss or two from your darling?” 

“Well, yes, but…”

“Then it’s settled” he says, moving his face closer to yours to press a small kiss on your lips. “We’ll have tons of kisses”

“Just kisses?” you ask, raising one eyebrow to him.

“Hm” he murmurs amused, his lips curving into a smirk. “I wouldn’t say so, but not in here… we could break this thing”

You roll your eyes playfully at his comment, and you look at him. “I definitely don’t want to fall… you think people have fallen from here?” You ask him, looking slightly down at the ground.

“We are not going to be the first ones, love”

You two enjoy the ride, pointing out things in the ground and how small everything looked from up there. You two nervously laughed when the gondola rocked forward and back, and you two gripped on the security bars and to each other. 

You two giggle as you get down, Thomas extends his hand so you can get down, and you feel a bit dizzy but ultimately very happy at the same time. He looks ultimately handsome when he smiles, more than his sassy smirks, but his truthful, genuine laughs, his happiness reflecting on his face. 

Tom liked to spoil his girl, he liked treating her with gifts and surprises, which was a surprise as to why he had forgotten about this. But again, it was impossible to stay mad at him for long.

“Are ya hungry?” He asks as you two walk towards his house, you know the streets and you have been here a lot of times.

“Mmm, a little” 

“Well, I have a little something left to do.” His tone is overly confident, as he nods. Some of his strand falls over to his face, and he makes sure to follow the role of an utter gentleman. “C’mon doll”

You always liked Tom’s house, it had a homely touch to it. It was never as posh as yours, but it seems slightly more full of life. 

“Ah, hello” Douglas greets you, as he was reading the paper. 

“Hi, Mr. Bennett” you greet him back, politely. “Have you had a good day?”

“Yeah, I went to the cemetery, to give flowers to my wife” 

“That's so sweet” you say smiling, almost turning to see Thomas for his reaction to it.

“Will you cook now, son?” Douglas asks Tom, ruining without knowing his last surprise.

“Dad…” Tom groans, almost grumpy because his last effort had been spoiled, as if almost urging him to go upstairs. 

“Yeah, I’ll go…” 

“Do not worry, Mr. Bennett” you say, as you don’t want to make a fuss. “We can stay in the kitchen, Tommy. There’s no need..” 

“Fine… We’ll be in the kitchen, dad” Tom says, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards his kitchen. 

Thomas was not a man who did the home chores, sometimes he cleaned the living room, or helped Lois rearranging the rooms, moving the heavy furniture.  

“Are you really going to cook?” You ask, your smile almost not believing in it, as Tom helps you sit as gentlemanly as he can. 

“If I don’t burn the damn house down, we’ll be eating in no time”

Tom is rather talented while making pasta. He describes it as an ‘easy work’ as he boils the already made sauce (which you lowkey think that his sister Lois made it for him, but you won’t comment on it)

He looks all cocky when he stirs the spaghetti, explaining it to you as if it was a millennial technique, very secret and obviously as if he was making the most delicious dish ever. 

“I swear that this will be the best plate of spaghetti you will ever have” he says as he prepares the plates for you both. He had forbidden you to help in any way, so you were sat, with a glass of wine and the candles lighten up in the table (which he insisted to, since ti was more romantic)

He stirs the sauce, adding some spices, trying to make it better. It does smells amazing, to his defence, and it definitely made you hungry.

“It smells real good” you agree, as you see how he places the food in front of you. “It seems even better”

“Taste it” he says, sitting in front of you with a smile confident on himself, as he takes his own fork. 

You have a hesitant smile, as you move your fork to take a bite of the spaghetti. They look very good, perhaps the presentation wasn’t very posh, in a way, but you knew that Tom did it with all his love, and that was enough for you. 

You take a bite, and it feels a bit sticky yet good. The sauce has maybe a bit too much spice on it, but Tom looks at you eagerly for your answer.

“It is quite good” You say, covering your mouth with a napkin as you eat. 

It was all he needed to hear, smirking proud of himself before starting to eat. “Aye, I told you…” He says as he takes his own bites. He seems happy as he eats, and then he says “Just good, love? I spent all this time slavering myself over to give to you this plate, I expected some praise, and kisses…”

You chuckle softly, as you take another bite, then you say “It is real good, Tommy. It is yummy” You say as if he didn’t believe you. “And you are just cheekily asking for kisses” 

“Guilty as charged” he says amused, as he takes another bite. “Though, I think this won’t be enough, huh. Perhaps I made too little of it”

“It is perfect, love” You say to him with a soft smile.  

“I am hearing lots of compliments to the food yet none at the chef” he says playfully, which makes you roll your eyes amused. 

You chuckle, covering your mouth as you do so. “Well, the chef is very talented, and charming….”

“Oh yeah? What else?” He asks smirking

“Well, he is very handsome” you add with a smile. “And very dear to me”

His smirk is self-sufficient, as he nods pleased knowing those words are meant for him. 

“I’m glad I could impress you with my cooking skills” he says smugly. 

You decide to wash the dishes, much to Tom’s horror. He tries to dissuade you, but it’s the least you could do. 

The fun thing is that Tom tries to amuse you however he can, trying all sorts of tricks to get you smiling and entertained. 

It’s as if he tries to make up for lost time, between the war and his busy life deploying to the navy.  You do not know how much longer this whole situation will last, but you only hope to be with him at the end

“I still have some minutes left before having to take you back to your house” he says as he leans back on the counter, watching you with a smirk. “C’’mere….” 

‘Tom… your da is here…” you murmur as he takes your hand, pulling you in with a cheeky smile. 

“And?” He says, leaning his face to your neck. He presses some soft kisses there. “He’s not here in the kitchen”

“Thomas” you say amused, feeling his arms around your waist, as he kisses your skin softly.  

“Won’t you give me a kiss, doll? It’s our anniversary…”

You look at him with an unimpressed smile, as he tries to put on his most charming face. “Cheeky” you murmur

“My da won’t bother us” he says “And I want to… use all my time with you, before I have to walk you back to your house, before the sun goes down…” He says, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

Tom’s kisses are soft, and he always kisses you with a mixture of passion and utter tenderness, savouring your taste as if trying to remember it. 

The first time he had to leave you kissed him nonstop, trying to shower him with affection so he doesn’t forget how the feeling of being kissed and being loved feels.

“I never want to stop kissing you” Tom murmurs against your lips. 

“Then don’t”

His kisses grow desperate after a while, pulling you closer against his chest, and his arm wrapping around you in a steady and firm grip, yet it’s still tender. Your hands are on his shoulder, trying to have a hold of him as you can feel his tongue making its way onto the kiss. 

You can feel his hand, wandering it cautiously and slowly towards your body, your waist, innocently enough, moving to your hip and then your ass, gripping it firmly. 

“You’re being lewd” You say between kisses.

“Can you blame me?”

Between kisses, Tom would always let out a little groan before going back for more. As if he couldn’t believe his luck and couldn’t wait for more. It was exciting, since he always had a way to make you feel special. 

His touch becomes increasingly more persistent, as he definitely grows aroused from it. He had been without any action far too long– it isn’t as if you’d allow him many times, since you definitely did not want a pregnancy before being his wife.

“You’ve missed me?” You ask as he starts to kiss your neck, his kisses too passionate. 

“You’ve got no idea, doll” he says as he softly opens the first buttons of your dress, as he takes a peek of your chest. “You’re so perfect” he whispers before pressing his lips to your breastbone, going lower and lower. 

You sigh softly, your lips tugging into a smile as he compliments you, making you feel truly like the only person in the world. 

He kisses the skin of your breasts, moving the fabric down slightly to being able to. He isn’t rough as you thought he’d be, instead he is caring and tender.

“My girl” he muses softly. 

You close your eyes slightly, and you feel his big hands moving along your ribs to your back to take off your bra completely. He had slippery hands, of course he did, and he was a pro at undoing your clothes. 

Even if the little passionate moment was like the cherry on top, you could hear the little gasp of Tom’s sister as she arrived home. 

“Thomas Bennett” She calls him out, and you immediately try to cover up and hide on his chest. Lois had Vera’s eyes covered, as if that would do something.

“Lois” Tom says, not so embarrassed, but he didn’t want their moment interrupted either. 

“Have you got no decency?” She scolds her brother. “You can’t treat your lass like that”

“I’m fine, Lois…” you say weakly as you hide on Tom’s chest, yet Lois was always putting Tom in line when he got careless. 

“You gotta take her home, it’s pretty late already” she says in her thick accent and her scolding tone. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know it. Get ready, doll” Tom murmurs the last part to you as he leans to take his coat. “Couldn’t you get home later?”

“So you’d get in a full mood in the kitchen? You gotta be a gentleman, Tom” she says as Tom stands there like a petulant kid after a mischief. 

You seek your things, a bit ashamed yet you knew Lois didn’t judge, but came to your defense when it came to her brother. You try to get more composed, fixing your lipstick before interrupting the small bickering.

“I’m ready” you muse out as Tom turns to see you, and so does Lois, already on the first step of the stairs.

“Good.” Tom says as he walks to grab your hand on his.

“Bye Lois” you say, before walking towards the main door with Tom.

As he puts on his hat, you help him fix it and get tidier than before. You have to stand on your tippy toes, helping him with a soft smile. 

“I had a great time” you tell him softly. 

“Did ya?” 

“Hmm.” You nod softly, you are grateful for everything, especially that he came back safe and sound from the war. “Though make sure that next time you won’t forget it.” 

Tom smirks slightly and says “I’ll try ma best”

[lylethewaterguy]

I’m gonna (attempt to) sew my own Hal Jordan flight suit cosplay, but I don’t know what style I should go for (any alteration suggestions are very welcome)

[dykedvonte]

You wanna talk about House and Benny? Let’s talk about House and Benny. Let’s talk about how House says he saw Benny as a son figure ans a rightful successor to the strip. Let’s talk about how Benny was so charmed by House’s offer that he literally killed a man to get the position to agree to it. Let’s talk about how House was intentionally priming Benny and regrets not doing better, not for the wasted time but of Benny’s wasted potential, how it was misplaced. Let’s talk about how Benny didn’t question House’s leadership until the guy started going radio silent. Let’s talk about House and Benny:

[pedgito]

𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 | Cowboy!Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Through all of his supposed wrong-doing, Joel has never failed you. Alternatively, falling in love with your dad's enemy while he shows you your full potential.

author's note | this is for @kedsandtubesocks's wild ride writing challenge! i struggled with this for a while, but ultimately erika and @hauntedhowlett helped me settle on something after sitting on the struggle bus for longer than i liked. this is all unbeta'd so please go easy on me dsjhkg

content warning | 18+ MDNI, no outbreak au, rodeo cowboy!joel, dbf but they're rivals now, forbidden love, hefty age gap (early 20s, late 40s), daddy issues, switches between present/flashbacks (all titled to differentiate), joel strolling around shirtless in a cowboy hat, mentions of injuries from riding, angst/internal conflict, fluff, smut (inappropriate use of a barstool), joel's such a loverboy

word count — 7.5k

Austin, Texas — Present Day: 

The energy in the stadium is inconceivable.

Austin always had amazing crowds during rodeo season, especially with such a close-knit community of people supporting a passion many have attempted to pursue. For you, it was in your blood, riding on the coattails of your father, you were saddled on a horse before you could even speak full sentences.

You can hear the deep, roaring chants as you stand steadily in the waiting pen, eyes locked on the television as the words echo in your ear, a faint smile growing on your face as you feel the solid press of his hand against your back.

 Joel.

It was a year of tireless dedication to get you back on a horse, somehow managing to entangle yourself in his grasp in more ways than you can explain—he wasn’t just a partner, he was your lover, a confidant, and the only person that could ease the quickly growing nerves.

“Like ridin’ a bike,” He says with an ease that comes natural to his voice, hand climbing up to settle against the back of your neck with a reassuring squeeze, “what’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“What if she gets startled?” You ask absently, the accident flashing through your mind in snapshots, the subtle twinge of pain in your knee that came and went when it felt like it.

“All she needs is you,” Joel reminds you, “s’never been a time I’ve seen her freak out when she’s got you on her back and you know it.”

Honey had been with you since you were a young girl, a trust built through years of connection and care, having practiced the art of non-verbal communication, you knew there was nothing to worry about, but the fear still lingered.

Joel’s Ranch, One Year Ago — Flashback:

Joel can see the way your hands shake, attempting to grasp the reins a few times with a clammy grip, over-adjusting yourself on the horse he’s ridden for many years, even into retirement. Buttercup was docile but strong and he’s attentive to Joel’s instruction, a rub over his snout as he attempted to reassure you.

It was your first time back on a horse since your accident, months of recuperating on Joel’s ranch with the help of him and his brother Tommy, working through doctor’s visits and physical therapy alongside two men who weren’t your father, but had filled the hole enough that you didn’t have to suffer through your injury alone.

“We’re just doing a few laps and getting a feel on things,” Joel reminds you, “I’m not pushin’ you and I’m not gonna let you push it too soon—what’s your number today?”

You bend and stretch your leg hesitantly, a subtle movement as Joel’s hand rests just above the thick band of your jeans, your face contorting in slight discomfort.

“Five…six,” You say indecisively, looking down at Joel.

“So, an eight,” He surmises with a smile, “alright—just a few laps and we’ll work from there.”

It was a step forward, fearful that you might never ride again. 

But, Joel follows you around the ring from start to finish.

He promised in the beginning that he wouldn’t leave your side and he hasn’t lied once.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

While dressage started their run, you and Joel slipped off into a dressing room to watch the show and deal with the insistence from Joel that you shouldn’t ride on an empty stomach.

You picked at the food sparingly though, still feeling rattled by the energy in the arena.

Joel’s presence comes from behind, palms spread over the arms of your chair as he leans his chest into your back, lips brushing against your ear in an endearing manner, a ghost of his breath against the side of your face as he presses a gentle kiss against your neck.

"Hey," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "You're going to be amazing out there, baby. I believe in you."

You lean back into his warmth, letting out a shaky breath. His arms encircle you, strong and comforting. "I'm just so nervous," you whisper.

Joel turns your face with his fingers at your chin. His eyes, filled with tenderness, meet yours. 

"Remember why you started riding in the first place? That freedom? The connection?"

You nod and his hand flattens against the side of your neck and you tilt your chin up expectantly, eager for a kiss that never comes, instead he chuckles and placates you with another kiss to your cheek.

“No distractions,” He chastises, “I meant that.”

You pout for a brief moment but relent, knowing that you needed a clear head and Joel would give you anything but with how easily he’s clouded your thoughts in the past several months.

Joel’s Ranch, Six Months Ago — Flashback:

When it happens, you aren’t expecting it.

Neither is Joel, which makes the entire situation unfold faster than you’re capable of processing.

The storm rolled in without warning, the wind picking up like someone had flipped a switch. 

But, the lighting strikes unexpectedly from the right and downfield with not a drop of rain in sight.

It startles everyone, but especially Buttercup, Joel’s horse. It was quick buck, with Joel’s hands on your waist luckily, so the decent is smooth but the impact isn’t as graceful as you would have liked while Joel’s horses thrashes wildly until he can calm him down, moving you a safe distance away before he can eventually get Buttercup tucked away in the stables and return to you, jogging toward you as the rain began to mist.

As Joel approaches, his eyes lock with yours, concern etched across his features. 

The misting rain clings to his cheeks, making them glisten in the fading light. He reaches out, his calloused hands gently cupping your face. Thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with worry.

You nod, unable to speak as you realize how close he is. 

It’s never been like this, even in the moments of physical therapy and joint dinners with him and his brother—Joel had always been careful about being respectful and keeping his distance.

Joel was prominent in your childhood, weekend dinners with him and his daughters after the death of your mother—it was all a blur now, most of it buried away and forgotten. But, there was an eventual blow-up with your father and then he was gone. 

You’d see him on television and around town when shows were happening and he had a break from his extensive tour through different states, having turned his professional career into entertainment both out of a need for change and necessity.

He constantly remained out of reach, but with your injury and his willingness to yield to you when you needed someone in your life the most, he had stepped in. It made you feel like that little girl again, scraping your knee on the ground and crying for help, but instead of your dad it was Joel and the floating feeling in your stomach wasn’t because he was comforting you, but because he was touching you and neither of you had the courage to speak on it.

He’s never touched you like this. He wouldn’t. 

Joel’s always been careful—too careful.

"I'm fine," you assure him, but your voice trembles slightly. Joel kneels closer, his warmth enveloping you despite the cool rain. His hands find your shoulders, steadying you, “Joel—I swear, I’m okay.”

“M’so sorry, sweetheart,” He apologises despite no wrongdoing, “I should’ve checked the weather or at least held on a little tighter,”

You look up into his eyes, seeing the genuine worry there, and something else – something that makes your heart flutter in your chest. "It's not your fault," You insist, blinking away the rain from your lashes before Joel is helping you to your feet, his touch never once leaving your body.

The rain is falling harder now, but neither of you can find the urgency to move.

Joel's hands slide down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your breath catches in your throat, coming out in a desperate attempt to clear the swell as you make a small, weak noise that seems to break him from his trance.

“Let’s get you dry,” He nods toward the house, grateful for the deflection as you turn, but his hand is still pressed firmly against your back as you both walk toward the door, like he’s too scared to let go - like you were too fragile to leave on your own.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

Honey nuzzles into your chest before nibbling at the apple in your palm, always rigid about the time you spent with her before your shows, a moment of quiet and connection that strengthens the bond.

She was full of personality, leaning into the gentle touch you apply to her snout as you rub your hand up and into her mane, a small push into your ribs as she hears Joel approach.

Your heart swells with affection as you lean into Honey's warmth, savoring the sweet moment. 

Joel's footsteps draw near, but you're reluctant to break the spell. 

You press a soft kiss to Honey's velvety nose, whispering words of love and gratitude. As Joel appears, his eyes meet yours and a tender smile spreads across his face. He understands the depth of your connection with Honey, having witnessed your bond grow over countless shows and quiet moments like this. Even when you were much younger and Honey was twice the size she is now.

Your father had purchased her when Joel was meeting Buttercup, how the girls had hounded him over the responsibility to name his horse. He wouldn’t admit how much he liked it, either.

"You two are inseparable," he murmurs, stepping closer. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers as you both stroke Honey's mane, "I swear, sometimes I think you love that horse more than me."

You laugh, giving your horse one last pat before turning to Joel. "Are you jealous?" 

Your head tilts, eyes as wide and vulnerable as they always were with him.

“Not when you look at me like that,” Joel explains, his hand cupping your chin as his thumb rubs against the point of it, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards as Joel mirrors that same admiration, a playful glint in his eyes as you pucker your lips and kiss his thumb, keeping your eyes on him, “boy, you are really pushin’ it today.”

It was silly to think about now, but a few months prior Joel wouldn’t even allow himself to touch you like this, despite the clear indication of how you felt and how he had ultimately fallen first, too scared to admit that he’d fallen for his old friend’s daughter, knowing your father despised everything that Joel was, it was a maze he didn’t know how to navigate.

He still felt lost on most days.

Joel’s Ranch, Five Months Ago — Flashback:

Mornings were sacred on Joel’s ranch - a beautiful sunrise etched out over the hills and through the trees, animals rousing from their sleep, and a silence that reminded you of a simpler time.

Usually you found Joel up this early, nursing a mug of coffee in his hands as rocked in the old chair on his porch, eventually finding the courage to join him after a while, when it didn’t hurt to bend down to his level, taking a seat on the deck near his legs and sipping at your own drink of choice, talking through your pain level on whatever particular day it was.

Your fondness has grown over shared meals and proximity; seclusion, too.

It was you and him, months alone aside from Tommy’s occasional visit.

Maybe it was inevitable—that your injury served a purpose.

You always tried to find a reason to excuse your own mistake, a moment of hesitation that cost you an entire year of your newfound career, excitedly filling in for Joel in his departure. 

It couldn’t have been for nothing.

You felt her heart skip a beat as his footsteps approached, his gaze warm as it descended upon you, peering over your shoulder to be met with a tired smile.

The morning sunlight caught the silver in his hair, and you found herself admiring the lines around his eyes - evidence of a life filled with both laughter and hardship.

"Good mornin’," Joel's voice was a low rumble, softened by the early hour, “something botherin’ you?”

“Why do you ask?” You chirp with a soft laugh, narrowing your gaze in a manner to intimidate. 

Joel smirks half-heartedly, “It’s a good place to think,” He notes, “so—what is it?”

“Can I ask about my dad?” You start hesitantly, not sure how sore of a subject it was for him.

“Whaddya wanna know, sugar?”

“I want your side,” You wanted honesty, not half-truths, “did you cut him out of the deal?”

“He cut himself out,” Joel explains without skipping a beat, “we were partners for a long time, couldn’t have imagined doin’ all I did without him before he turned on me, but it was good money, security—it put Ellie and Sarah through college.

“He’s a sell-out,” If there was any time for your father to disparage Joel Miller, he would, “runnin’ off to Florida and taking some big deal, that shit ain’t right—it’s selfish.”

Joel had never meant to turn his career into entertainment, competing in circuits at a professional level before his body started to take a toll, eventually earning the Old Timer moniker and booking shows around the surrounding cities of Texas before touring the country.

If you were involved in rodeo, or even caught a whiff of it in the media, you knew who the Old Timer was. And even with him gone, you can feel your father looming.

The echoing mantra of his words in your head as you remember watching Joel perform with Buttercup, a long-established Bronc with his own exuberant personality to match Joel’s more subdued one, a perfect balance. 

Ain’t nothing out there you won’t experience here in Austin. 

You weren’t sure where the animosity stemmed from until now—it was a clear path he had pictured for himself and you, riding out the rest of your career in Texas, even as you were starting to climb the ladder as one of the more notorious female riders, still just a whisper for most people, living in the shadow of your father for so long.

“He’s stuck in his ways and that’s not sayin’ I’m any different, but I don’t regret signing that deal for a better way of livin’—a easier way, it got me all of this,” He throws his arms out lazily, property that stretched for miles, a place where he’s come to offer a camp for young riders to learn the ropes and get comfortable around the animals in a safe environment.

But, it was also home.

It was a surprise waking up one morning to a yard full of kids, a handful no older than ten or eleven, showing how easily Joel molded into the teaching role in such a relaxed environment.

You weren’t sure if that was when your feelings for him had evolved or if it was during the early weeks of being injured when Joel would sit with you bedside almost every night, either reading or working on his crosswords like it was religion, glasses perched on his nose as he moved with every subtle twitch you would make, worry etched on his face.

It was a mix of both and more, countless times you’ve found yourself at a loss for words.

“If he knew,” You pause, chewing at your bottom lip with worry, “if he knew—that I was here, that I turned down his help to come to you, Joel, I don’t know how he would react,”

“There ain’t a single reason he needs to know,” Joel assures you, “I’m sure he’s said a lot about me and some of it is probably true, but you deserve a place you feel safe.”

You nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. 

Joel's words sink in, and you realize just how much you needed to hear them. The weight of your father's expectations, his dreams for your future, had been suffocating you for far too long.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft whinnying of horses in the nearby stables, and your words linger, like you’re holding back, “I do—I do feel safe…”

Joel hums, turning his body toward you more, his elbow meeting the railing of the ring.

“But?”

“You have to know,” You begin, heart constricting with nerves, a surge of adrenaline rushing through your veins as Joel looks at you, all of you, that familiar full body glance that you’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing, “it’s more than just safety, Joel.”

"I reckon I do know," he says, his voice low and gravelly, still thick from sleep. "Been knowin' for a while now."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning and possibility. Uncertainty.

“I feel stupid,” You laugh away the sudden embarrassment, face heating as the silence grows, “fuck I’m—I’m only a couple years older than the girls and you were helping me with my math homework while trying to teach them how to tie their shoes. It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Seems to me like you’re an adult capable of making her own choices,” Joel decides.

You feel a flutter in your chest at Joel's words, at the implicit acceptance in them. 

Your eyes meet his, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but you find only warmth and a hint of something deeper, enticingly haunting.

"I've been making my own choices for a while now," you say softly, not realizing the instinctual gravitation toward him until his chest is pressing into your shoulder. "Some good, some...not so good. But, coming here? It was the first choice I’ve made for myself that felt right."

“It always needs to feel like that, sweetheart.”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

Joel tightens the belt at your waist, the leather stiff from lack of wear. You’ve only worn the uniform a few times for fittings, a brightly colored shirt and riding pants to match, which were still hung on the rack behind Joel. 

He takes a moment to tug at the leather to assure it was secure before he drops down to his knees, catching you by surprise with a bubble of laughter slipping past your lips.

“Joel, what are you doing?”

He shrugs, pressing featherlight kisses along the top of your thigh while his hand drags along the back, hooking behind your right leg as he brings your knee to his mouth, his lips pressing over the jagged but healed scar.

You find yourself overcome with unexpected emotion, throat burning with the threat of impending tears, the moment holding still as Joel looks up at you.

Joel’s Ranch, Four Months Ago — Flashback:

It was intended to be a simple task, filling the troughs with water as you both lugged the buckets to each individual pen, narrowly escaping Joel’s increasingly boyish behavior as he fills the trough up halfway before he’s tossing the rest of the water at you, gasping at the cold, frigid temperature of it.

“You ain’t smiled today,” Joel reminds you, suddenly sheepish as you realize how big the grin on your face has grown, wasting the rest of the water to return the wet favor, tossing the bucket on the floor before you decide to make a run for the house nearly at the door before you slip on a slick spot of mud.

Squealing, your arms flail out—you accept your fate, arms bracing behind you as you wait for the impact, but instead you’re caught by two thick arms wrapping under and around you and your breath catches as you find yourself pressed against Joel's broad chest, his strong arms holding you securely.

Your heart races with an anxious stir of emotions, interlaced with excitement, suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. Joel aids you back to your feet, shoving him away playfully as you snake your way out of his arms, trying your hardest to seem upset even though you weren’t.

“Careful,” Joel warns, “can’t have you injuring yourself any worse, you’ll be takin’ up a permanent residence here.

“Would it be so bad?” You ask curiously, a hint of teasing to your tone, “I think you like the idea of keeping me here, all to yourself.”

His eyes echo his earlier words. Careful.

The restraint he shows day by day amazes himself with how hard you’ve tried to break him down, some guilt surrounding his own growing feelings, ashamed with how strong they’ve become.

“Where’s your manners, anyways?” You ask, “You get a girl all wet and you can’t even invite her to dinner or kiss her first? And I thought you were a gentleman.”

Joel wasn’t intimidated by much in his life, but the way you see straight through him with ease—he’s helpless under your gaze, the grin on your face that follows is tortuous to his psyche.

“Oh, don’t hurt yourself, Joel,” You tease, poking at the damp fabric stuck to his chest, his eyes following the movement as you pull away and turn toward the house, “I’m just fucking with you.”

Joel snaps then, pulling at your wrist with a gentle tug, “Now, you ain’t gotta be so crude all the time, mouth like that’ll get you in trouble,”

Like this?

Joel sees the smug expression as it sneaks onto your features, his grip climbing higher until you’re at the lip of his front door and he’s got you crowded, pressing into the flimsy screen as he noses at your cheek like a wolf sniffing out prey, violently aware of how your hand squeezes into his wet shirt and pulls him closer.

“Just kiss me,” You plead, “fuck—please. Just do it.”

It was a craving so unnatural you ache, in your gut and chest, lips parting as your chin lifts in an effort to chase his hesitance. You’ve both been dancing around this for weeks.

Joel's resolve crumbles, his self-control shattering like glass.

With a low growl, he captures your lips in a hurried kiss, weeks of pent-up desire pouring out in a single, passionate moment. His calloused hands frame your face, holding you steady as he deepens the kiss, tongue seeking entrance between your lips.

And you melt instantly, fingers curling tighter into his shirt. It was everything you needed.

Rough but tender, his soft lips against your own with the satisfying scratch of his overgrown beard that tickled your cheeks and nose, hiccuping a breath into the kiss as he tilts your head up to meet his hungry mouth, each press more insatiable than the last. 

When you finally part, both panting for air, Joel rests his forehead against your own and allows his eyes to fall shut for a moment as you giggle, shaking slightly in his hold.

“Now, was that so hard?”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

He’s got you imprisoned this way—body and soul, your hand shifting to rest at the crown of his head, curling into his hair, another gentle kiss before he’s leaning his cheek against the inside of your thigh and offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

“You plan on stayin’ down there, cowboy?”

Joel chuckles, shifting to hide his face into your thigh.

It’s a gentle tickle, his mouth against your skin, but it brings you immense comfort.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes,” You remind him, eyeing the clock overhead, “I think we can manage.”

He shakes his head with relaxed defiance, groaning quietly as he pushes to his feet again.

“Right—right, later. No distractions,” You repeat his earlier words, followed by a playful roll of your eyes, “You’re not making it easy, you know?”

Joel’s Ranch, Four Months Ago — Flashback:

Joel’s got you on a strict schedule lately once you’re cleared for training—breakfast, a workout, practice, lunch, repeat, only a few months out until your inevitable return and he’s hammering the routine into your brain, which you appreciate, but a break would be nice.

The run-through was flawless this evening and you retired earlier, savoring the burning heat of water as it melted over your skin, dressed in a loose shirt and panties as you searched through your messy suitcase of clothes and the pile that has grown over time with your extensive stay, down on your knees.

It wasn’t always this easy, depending on Joel for nearly everything in the beginning of your stay.

He was showering in his room simultaneously, or so you thought.

Joel spotted your hat about halfway through the living room, resting on a post outside.

His chest is still wet, jeans unbuttoned but snug on his hips as he strolled barefoot outside and retrieved the item, knowing that you hardly parted with it, it was a strange sight.

You pause in your rummaging, sensing a presence behind you moments later.

Turning, your breath catches at the sight of Joel standing in your doorway, hat balanced on his head as he leaned against the frame and smiled, the muscles in his arms conforming to the stretch and pull as he crossed them, tanned skin glistening with the few droplets of water still lingering.

“Found your hat,” Well, one could only suspect.

You stand slowly, acutely aware of how little you're wearing. "Thanks," you murmur as you make your way toward him, reaching for the hat. Your fingers brush as he hands it over, his own molding around the crown of the hat, bottom side up.

Joel doesn’t let go immediately like you’re anticipating, “I think you deserve a weekend off,”

“No,” You argue instantly, “I’m finally getting comfortable with the routine, I don’t need a day off.”

Joel’s face scrunches up in with a lack of belief in you words, tilting his head with narrowing gaze, “Now, that’s something only a person who needs a day off would say,”

“Joel, no,” You put your foot down, finally prying his fingers away from the hat, seeking a few inches of space from his bare chest and the unbearable heat that radiates from his frame.

While your admission of feelings had led him to be less reserved with the way he approached your or talked, more touchy during practice and at night while you both cuddled up on the couch and watched some old western you could care less about—Joel really loved them, though, so that had to count for something.

He makes you nervous, anticipatory of his next move, waiting for him to put your misery and break the metaphorical seal over your relationship—if you could even call it that, but it never happened. It would have to be you, a choice you made entirely on your own.

Your heart races as you take a step back, clutching the hat to your chest like a shield.

Joel's eyes follow your movement, a flicker of something indecipherable crossing his face before he schools his expression back to that easy, warm smile. It’s subtle, but there.

"I get it," Joel levels, "You're afraid of losing momentum.”

You shrug, unsure if that was fully true.

“C’mon,” Joel beckons, uncrossing his arms to offer his hand, your eyes following it with hesitance.

Joel chuckles to himself and pulls the hat from your grip before placing it on your head, fingers circling your wrist before they trail toward your hand and lead you toward the kitchen, through his expansive living room until he’s guiding you toward one of the few barstool, silently ordering you to sit down.

Almost immediately, he squats behind the island to rummage through the liquor collection he kept stored away for the occasional celebration or nightcap, avoiding it mostly out of preference while you trained, but he’s sliding a glass of whiskey over before you can fully piece together what he’s doing, rounding the counter with his own glass in hand.

“Happy early birthday to me, I guess,” You joke before taking a small sip of the whiskey, knowing your 22nd birthday was on the horizon but enjoying the reaction as Joel’s face contorts through phases—first confusion, then fear, before he’s attempting to pull the glass from your grip as he realizes his mistake

You giggle and stretch the glass out of reach, “Oh, calm down—I’m old enough to drink, Joel. Old age is really getting to you, isn’t it? I didn’t celebrate last year because I was so focused on the show, but we all know how that turned out,”

“You’re tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you?” Joel asks, downing the rest of the liquid in one go.

He’s drifted closer now, palm pressed into the counter beside your arm, his free hand rising up to tip the brim of your hat up, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth with an impish gaze.

“I’m just so young and impressionable,” You feign innocence, “I blame you.”

Joel's eyes darken, a mix of amusement and something more intense swirling in the depths of brown. Holding his eyes, you slide the glass against the counter and reach for your hat before placing it back on his head, a little on the snug side but still wearable.

“Kinda like it on you better,” You decide, adjusting the brim before your fingers trail toward his shoulders and settle there, feeling the muscle underneath twitch as he laughs, though you find yourself deadly serious and sincere, no longer meeting his eyes as yours trail toward the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, a solid wall of muscle follow—Joel wasn’t defined, but he was large, intimidatingly so. When he wasn’t riding, he was building, working with his hands, lifting and moving things around the ranch, it was mouthwatering to watch.

“Eyes up, sugar,” He warns, not realizing how dangerously low your hands had trailed before your fingers were folding over the open seam of his jeans and how blatantly obvious it was that Joel wasn’t wearing anything underneath and how his cock had swelled slightly with your proximity and innocent touches.

You feel a rush of excitement as your fingers brush against the warm skin just beneath the waistband of his jeans. Joel's breath hitches, his hand moving to grip your wrist firmly.

“But, you’re—”

Joel shakes his head dismissively, “Can’t help that part—bein’ around you ain’t easy lately.”

In any other circumstance you would take those words harshly, but you can see the pain on his face, the self-restraint he’s holding himself to.

“I can—we can,” You offer, legs spreading on their own as you turn toward him, fitting him between your thighs as you lean into him, “I mean—it isn’t like you’ll be stealing my virtue. I’m not that innocent, Joel.”

Joel's grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenching as he struggles to maintain control. 

You can see the conflict in his eyes—desire warring with his sense of propriety.

Impatient, you surge upwards, pressing your lips against his with a hunger he hasn’t seen from you before, taking advantage of his parted mouth and dragging your tongue across his top lip, feeling the restrain in the way he kisses you back subdued with his hesitant touch.

“Think about—what you’re—askin’ for,” Joel interrupts through hurried kisses, his hand curling around the side of your neck to push you back, “What this’ll mean for you.”

“I think you should fuck me,” You respond crudely, “besides—you kissed me first.”

His resolve wavers, and you seize the opportunity. 

Your free hand slides up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. Joel's eyes flutter closed for a moment, a soft groan escaping his lips at the indecent sight of you looking up at him, lips parted on a breath and eyes wide with desire.

Joel never made great choices, only what felt right in the moment.

And somehow, it has led him here.

“We shouldn’t,” He says softly, “s’just another distraction.”

“My mind has never been more clear, Joel,” You argue.

Joel’s resistance is weakening quickly and with a low growl, he’s capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his hand leaving your wrist to grip your hip with a natural possessiveness, the same touch he lends while you’re riding, not an entirely different circumstance, but the intention is loud. You moan into his mouth, arching against him as his fingers dig into your flesh.

“Slow down, cowboy,” You tease, flicking at the hat, your laugh breaking through the tension as Joel parts for a brief second, watching your fingers fold around the hem of your shirt, “help me?”

It’s devious, you know, he knows it. 

But, he listens.

The moment your shirt is thrown to the floor, Joel’s jaw slackens.

Instinctually, his thumb drifts over your nipples, circling the areola before he’s using the full expanse of his grip to cup your breasts, maneuvering the barstool until you’re leaning against the marble top, his lips latching onto your skin, tongue alternate as they circle the sensitive buds.

He’ll repent later, much later.

A gasp escapes you when he grazes his teeth against your nipple, sending a spark of pleasure through your body.

"Joel," you breathe, arching into his touch. He hums against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. He knew exactly what he was doing, hesitance out the window and replaced with newfound confidence.

His hands slide down your sides, rough calluses catching on your soft skin as he explores every inch of you. When his fingers reach the waistband of underwear, he pauses, looking up at you for guidance and surety. 

You nod eagerly, lifting your hips in time with his tug, pulling the damp fabric down your legs and leaving you bare. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver with anticipation. Joel's eyes rake over your naked form, hunger evident in his eyes.

And you learn quickly that his skilled hands and fingers aren’t entirely for show, two fingers to start as they push inside of your cunt, head tilted back into his empty hand as he watches you carefully - the quickened breath as he curls his fingers, eyes fluttering shut when he reaches a sensitive spot deep inside of you, gasping for air while he brushes it once, twice, until you’re nothing but a sobbing mess, crying out his name until you come over his fingers, the butt of his palm pressed against your clit for added measure.

“She loves me, don’t she?” Joel teases, the gall of that man.

You offer a pathetic sound of acknowledgement, Joel's eyes never leaving your face as you come undone, drinking in every gasp and shudder. As your climax subsides, he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips. His tongue darts out, cleaning up the mess you’ve made, his chest rumbling with a deep groan.

You’ve had enough.

You reach for his jeans, fumbling weakly as you push them down, desperate for as much of him as you could consume—all of him, preferably.

His arousal is evident as you rid him of his jeans, watching as he kicks away the tangled mess to fit himself between your spread legs, his cock bobbing freely against his stomach, thick and heavy against your thigh as you pull him closer. You wrap your hand around his cock, stroking slowly, reveling in the way his breath hitches and his hips buck involuntarily.

"I’m good," You assure him without elaborating, guiding him towards your entrance—you could talk later, too desperate to feel him inside of you.

Joel hesitates for a moment, searching your eyes. Whatever he sees seems to convince him, both of your breaths holding as he presses inside with slow, hesitant thrusts.

The sensation steals your words, knowing just by the sight of him that it would be pushing what you were used to, and no fumbling hands either, sure in every touch he laid upon you.

The way he squeezed at your hip and curled his other hand around the back of your neck, protecting you from the hard edge of the counter before he’s slinging your arms over his neck and nearly knocking the barstool to the floor as he leans into you, his hips picking up in their intensity as he listens to your body and your voice, distant and soft but there, floating in some ethereal plane of pleasure.

Your fingers dig into Joel’s shoulders, moaning at how he fills you in the most satisfying way, amiss to the bite of the counter in your back as the chair creaks and rocks with Joel’s hurried movement, breath hot against your neck where he’s buried himself.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” He sighs, mouthing his way to your ear, hissing at the sting of your grip and with that his thrusts become deeper, more forceful— each one pushing you further over the edge. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting more.

Joel’s lips find yours frantically, in desperation as he groans, a low rumble that seeps into your own mouth, “Gonna gimme one more,” He tells you,

You nod fervently, barely able to form words as Joel's movements grow more insistent.

His hand slips between your bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and circling it with a precision that leaves you breathless. The dual sensations of his thick length filling you and his skilled touch on your clit quickly push you towards the precipice.

“Good, good,” He coos, soothing your weak cries with his mouth as your voice muffles under his guise, kissing you soundly, “go on—let go for me,”

His words push you over the edge and you come undone while Joel follows, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural moan, coming forceful and deep, fucking his spend deeper inside of you as reality resurfaces too soon.

“You alright?” Joel asks almost immediately, slipping out of you with a soft grunt.

The barstool creaks ominously as you adjust yourself and Joel chuckles.

“Probably not the sturdiest spot for that,” He jokes, thankful for the levity as he helps you stand, unsteady on your legs and held up by his firm grip, “I’m blamin’ you for that one.”

The grin it brings out of you is worth the slight discomfort you feel.

You shrug, nonchalant and admit defeat, “Guilty,”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

He’s not supposed to be here.

There was always a plan, something tucked away in his back pocket.

This time it was the element of surprise and a mix of fear, eyes landing on him for the first time since he rushed onto Joel’s property, half-cocked and throwing out demands where he had no position or right.

He knows what he’s doing, eyes locked with yours from several feet away.

“Guest speaker?” Joel asks, the words biting as they leave his mouth, “Seriously?”

“It’s okay,” It was a mantra to yourself mostly, but Joel hears you, “I know what he’s trying to do—it won’t work.”

“You say the word, I’ll take care of it,” Joel promises.

You smirk slightly, rubbing your hand against his cheek and offering a reassuring squeeze.

“Easy, cowboy,” You offer lightheartedly, “I can handle myself.”

Joel’s Ranch, Two Months Ago — Flashback: 

You knew he’d figure it out eventually.

For a while he believed the lie—that you had been transferred to a beautiful place in Florida that dealt with injury and rehabilitation for your line of work and he accepted that, kept his distance.

He almost followed through on his reconciliation with Joel, that is, until he sees you at his side.

It was such a natural moment for the both of you now, Joel’s arm slung around your waist as he pulled you in, lips pressing against your temple before you both called it for the day, Honey’s head slipping between your hands as she noses at your head, suddenly whining at the shadowed intruder as he grew close.

At the sound of his voice, you fade away. 

You’re still here, standing, but Joel���s protectiveness jumps out instantly.

The words were loud and harsh, but the moment you snap back is as your father’s hand squeezes at your bicep and yanks you forward, immediately met with resistance. 

“I forbid it,” He shouts, “whatever brainwashin’ you’ve done to my kid, it’s over.”

“Forbid it?” You counter, “Do you hear yourself?”

“Always liked makin’ a show of things,” He sounds bitter, he is, “come on, we’re leaving.”

“No,” You tell him, voice unrecognizably strong, “I’m finally doing something for myself.”

Your father's face contorts, a mix of anger and betrayal etched into every wrinkle. He takes a step forward, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. "For yourself? You think leaving everything behind and letting him influence you is for yourself?"

Joel shifts behind you, a ghosting of his fingers against your back but you don’t waver.

"Yes, for myself," you say, shocked at the steadiness in your voice. “I deserve a chance to figure things out my own way, I don’t have to follow the same path you did.”

Your father scoffs, shaking his head. "Your own way? You don't even know what that means, honey. All we built together, you’re ready to throw that away for him—”

"We?" you interrupt, feeling a surge of frustration. "You built that, Dad. I was a kid, I did what I was told.” It was clear he still saw you as a young girl, his protege, destined to take over after he was gone and carry on the legacy.

The silence that follows is deafening. 

Your father's eyes narrow, searching your face as if seeing you for the first time. You weren’t the same young girl who stared at him wide-eyed, amazed by his ability to wow the crowd and commit to everything he did. The disappointment in his gaze morphs into something else—hurt.

“I’m not gonna sit and wait around if he breaks your heart,” Your father tells you, “let alone how inappropriate it is—you try justifyin’ that to the public. I see what this is and what you did.”

His eyes land on Joel.

Fortunately, he couldn’t be more wrong.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

The truth was, no one cared.

You and Joel had created an amazing partnership with natural chemistry and it seared the crowds, grabbed their attention, all eyes on you when you finally took your run out in the arena.

It was weeks that had built to this, following through your routine almost masterfully and without missing a beat, ending with a flourish trick as you stood on Honey’s back for the hundredth time it felt like now, not a single waver in your movement and lasso’d the cowboy hat from the middle of the ring and yanked it in, placing it on your head before the crowd erupted in a loud cheer.

It was the feeling you had searched for since you were younger, fulfillment like no other.

Your father’s appearance couldn’t be further from your mind and as you dismounted Honey and took your bow, your eyes searched the side for the one face that mattered most. Joel's proud grin beamed at you from across the arena, his eyes locked on yours. 

In that moment, the roar of the crowd faded away and it was him.

Joel’s Ranch, One Month Ago — Flashback:

You feel guilty for the way your eyes linger on his back as Buttercup trots around the ring, distracted and smiling to yourself as you step onto the railing and lean over with your forearms.

“Focus,” Joel chirps, “c’mon—put on your best voice.”

You clear your throat dramatically and lower your tone a bit, fighting through the giggles.

“You know him, you love him,” You bellow from deep in your chest, “It’s Old Timer!”

Joel chuckles, “That was horrible, baby.”

“So what?” You shrug, “I know him, I love him—point proven.”

It was rare to get a glimpse of Joel like this, back in his element as you watched him run-through your routine without all the flair, offering a slightly different view—though, he knows it won’t help.

You were barely focused on the routine, preoccupied with how easily Joel could capture a room like this, noticing your glossed over gaze as he finishes and hops off his horse, walking over with a knowing smirk.

"You weren't paying attention at all, were you?" Joel teases, his voice low and intimate.

You feel a heat creep up your neck as you meet his gaze.

 "I was... distracted," You admit sheepishly.

His smirk softens into a tender smile. "By what, exactly?"

“Not Joel,” You clarify, grabbing hold of his collar as you pull him close, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, “I like it when you ride, Old Timer.”

“All I gotta do is hop on a horse to make you swoon?” Joel asks, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the emotion as he blushes at the affection.

“Among other things.”

“Done and done, sweetheart.”

-

divider graphics: @saradika-graphics <3

[bi-writes]

ok wait pause i have a question. first date, but like, real, you are my girlfriend date ? or like how'd they define their relationship (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

he's...fun.

it's just sex. mind-blowing, back-numbing, pussy-destroying sex. this man is pushing 40, and you swear you've never felt so out of breath. you convince yourself it's the military thing--he's used to pushing himself, exerting energy, testing the limits of his stamina. but holy shit, you'd think after round four, this man would take a quick nap or something, but no.

he's still balls-deep, hitting it from the back since you can't even keep yourself upright any longer. your skirt lays haphazardly thrown onto the floor, and oh--there's your panties, too, ripped to lacy shreds.

holy shit, this man is more than ten years older than you, and you've never been so out of your fucking mind--

"tha' the spot, love?" his voice is so condescending. he knows he's got you brainless. there's drool staining your lips, and you paw at the sheets for a better grip, but it's useless.

"y-yes, captain."

the low groan that leaves him makes you smile. he might have the upper hand, but if you really wanted to, you could make him come right now, too fast, too much.

you're in bliss. everything is bliss. you're still recovering from what must be the fifth or sixth orgasm--not as good as the second or third one, but still enough to make you cry fat, pleasured tears. you're shaking, in a good way, sinking to your stomach on the bed and pressing your face into his pillow.

"hmm..." your voice is soft and gooey, and when you take a deep breath, you get a long whiff of him. he smells good. clean. earthy. you tasted cigar smoke in his mouth earlier, and you can smell it here, too. just as you relax, you feel the weight of him on your back, and then his lips. he's kissing along your shoulder to your neck and then up your jaw. you tilt your head to give him room, your eyes shutting as his beard scruffs against your skin and his mouth laps at your chin. "i gotta go, john."

you giggle when he lays his entire body on top of yours, trapping you there. you reach up and grip the back of his neck, whining as he flattens his tongue against your jaw and swirls it there.

"john...i gotta go."

"why?"

"mmm..." you thumb at the hair along his scalp, shaking your head. "don't do this, john."

"not doing anythin'."

"we don't sleep over, john."

"what, is tha' some kind of rule? sounds mad."

you turn over a little, looking up at him. you cup his beard in both hands, giving him a chaste kiss.

"don't ruin it, john," you say softly. "this is supposed to be fun."

he tilts his head to the side. he looks so funny without a hat. you've seen him in a beanie, a boonie hat, a cap, you love them all on him. he looks nice like this, too, though--ass naked with his dog tags dangling against his sweaty pecs.

john's eyes twitch a little at your indifference. he settles on his side, leaning over you, and just as you move to get up, he reaches and grips at your face with a big paw of a hand. you clutch at his forearm, big and solid, and your lips pucker as he pulls you closer to him.

"y'r a bad liar, love," he mutters, shaking his head. "fear doesn't suit you."

"i'm not fucking scared."

"who was it?"

you glare up at him, struggling a bit under him. it's a stupid thing to think that you could get away from him. john is not moveable. he's a big fucking tree trunk of a man, with roots that burrow, and you are truly naïve if you think he'll let you up without an answer.

"shut the fuck up, john," you spit at him, but all he does is raise a brow. he's immune to your bite. he's not phased by your sour attempt at insulting him. in fact, it's what drew him to your bed in the first place--certified brat-tamer, captain john price. "you think you're so fucking smart. think you know everything, just because you've got a few years on me, well let me tell you, john--not everything is a fucking lesson learned. you're a military muppet with a decent cock, and that's all you'll ever be to me."

"tha' right?"

"you'll never put me first. you've got one woman, and that's the job, and that's fucking fine, john, but don't make this something it's not. you're lonely, and old, and your failed relationships don't make you wiser, they make you delusional for thinking that doing this again could ever--"

your breath falters when he kisses you. he squeezes your jaw a little harder, forcing your mouth to open, and you moan, squeezing your thighs together when he licks into your mouth and holds you there for him to play with.

"i do have other obligations. my men, the job..." he brushes the hair out of your eyes, and he presses his forehead to yours when he sees the tremble of your bottom lip and the wet look in your eyes. "but i don't do casual, sweetheart. it's all or nothing f'me."

your hand grips his wrist, squeezing tight, and you blink up at him. he's so close. he's right here. blue eyes, greying beard, a sad expression. he's not afraid of dying alone, but he is afraid of wasting time.

"please don't do this to me, john." your voice cracks, and he shrugs. he's sorry, but he's not sorry enough. not enough to let you go--and you're not strong enough to tell him no. it has to be him, but it won't be.

"it's alright," john whispers, but he knows it won't be. he's known you not but a few weeks, but he's made up his mind. he doesn't understand casual. even from the moment he saw you in that bar, it wasn't fleeting, it was definitive. it would be his. you would be his.

even if you were actually someone else's. even if you were bound to someone else. even if you weren't alone, it was already decided.

john's teeth are stuck here, right here, in the hollow of your throat. his fingers are twisted between the chords of your heart and in the spaces between your ribs. if he lets go, he'll break you apart.

so he's never going to let go.

[navybrat817]

Just Like That

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier. Word Count: Almost 5k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, pining, flirting, slight possessive behavior, talk of undercover mission, "only one bed" trope, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: A combination of @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge and my Bucky Barnes Smut Menu, courtesy of @ellemj. "Only One Bed" Trope and the dialogue prompt in bold italics. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The engagement ring on your finger suited you. Not large or overly flashy, the single diamond radiated a subtle sparkle. It was beautiful and a perfect fit, a representation of the unifying love of marriage. When you looked at it under the light, it was almost as if you could feel the love that Bucky had for you.

If only that were the case.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” You asked, taking a seat at the table across from Bucky.

“So we can practice and make sure we’re a convincing couple,” he replied.

You sighed as you glanced around the hotel room for the umpteenth time. A small sitting area, a dining and kitchen combination, a single bathroom, and a bedroom. When you pointed out that there was only one bed, Bucky reminded you of the expectation that the two of you had to sleep together while on assignment since you were going on a couple's retreat. Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have a crush on him, right?

Right.

You were completely enamored with Bucky Barnes, the handsome former assassin turned agent for the revamped SHIELD. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Bucky, you aren't terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty.”

“You're talking to a guy who hasn't been on a real date since the 40s,” he deadpanned.

He had a point. Plus, from what you understood, Bucky wasn't exactly interested in dating anyone. Every time Steve or Natasha suggested he go on a date, he found a way to brush it off or change the subject.

Even if he was interested in dating, did he think of you as anything beyond a colleague?

Taking this assignment may have been a mistake.

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you said.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a week just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Bucky. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at a coffee shop. We both ordered the same drink.”

“An iced caramel macchiato,” he said.

“And we reached for the drink at the same time,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And I immediately asked you out,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “You did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went to dinner and talked a bit about ourselves. You told me you're a mechanic and I told you I’m a teacher. And once dinner was over, we went back to that same coffee shop and we shared an iced caramel macchiato.”

“Even proposed to you at the same shop,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone.

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, it just would've been nice if we met at a coffee shop,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“What’s wrong with how we met?” He asked, crossing his arms.

The metal arm gleamed under the light. You noticed that he had a tendency to wear long sleeves and gloves whenever he was in the building, but seeing him with his sleeve pushed up and missing glove? You would almost say he was comfortable around you.

Again, he had to play the part right.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. “Do you not remember what happened or are you just being nice?” You asked.

Months ago, the day you met Bucky, Steve informed you that he planned to introduce you to him after he came back from a long assignment. Not only were you excited to meet one of his best friends and a great soldier, but you had wanted to make a good impression on him. What you did was make an ass out of yourself when you turned the corner only to smack right into the former Winter Soldier.

And splattered your beverage on both of you in the process.

Instacrush and a horrible impression on your part.

Bucky’s lips curled in a smile as your eyes widened. “You do remember,” you said, wadding up a nearby napkin and tossing it at his face, which he easily caught. “Oh, my God! That’s why you chose ‘coffee shop' for this, didn't you?”

You concentrated so much on getting the backstory right that it didn't occur to you that he was maybe poking fun at you. He wasn't the kind of guy that liked making others feel bad though. Tease you, sure. Outright make fun of you at the risk of hurting your feelings? He would never.

“Hey, I didn't choose how we met, but I also didn't object,” he said, raising his hands in surrender when you went to throw another napkin at him. “And I wouldn't forget meeting you, doll. You make a lasting impression.”

You wished you had done something to make him remember you besides spilling a drink on him. “I guess making an idiot out of myself is a lasting impression,” you teased.

Something dark flashed in his eyes, making your breath hitch. “That’s not what I meant. You didn't make an idiot out of yourself and I don't like you thinking that or talking down about yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, not used to someone getting so defensive at your self-depreciation. There was something sexy and heartwarming about it. “You were very nice about the whole incident.”

“You were nice, too,” he said, gesturing to his torso. “I mean, you offered to buy me a new shirt.”

“Because I spilled my drink on it! I felt bad,” you said.

“And when I said you didn't have to buy me a new shirt, you said, ‘Are you sure I can't pay for the dry cleaning at least, Sergeant Barnes?’” he said in a falsetto voice.

He chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “I don't sound like that, first of all, and I was being considerate,” you said. You couldn't believe he remembered your exact words. “And you just gave me that half confused smile of yours before I grabbed napkins for both of us to clean up.”

“You mean this?” He asked, his lips stretching in that familiar awkward grin.

“Yeah, that,” you giggled, your heart doing that funny flip that happened far too often around him.

In the beginning, whenever you smiled at him, he gave you that very look in return. Somewhere along the way, the uncomfortable glances on his end became genuine fondness. It didn't mean anything though.

Just an agent being kind to another agent.

Bucky stared at you as you continued to giggle at the memory. “I’m sorry. I just-”

“I love your laugh,” he said, almost making you choke on your own breath. Nothing like forgetting how to be a human and breathe. “And your smile.”

Maybe he had switched back into practice mode. “You do?” You asked, playing along as you smiled directly at him.

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice thick as he unfolded his arms. “You know, you're one of the people that actually smiles at me. And you look me in the eye when you talk to me.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Because some people are still afraid of me,” he whispered.

Your heart sank. He was a good man. A hero wrongly painted as a villain. It wasn't fair what he went through and you had no reason to fear him.

Why couldn't everyone else see the good in him?

“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky,” you promised. And after what he went through, frightening people was the last thing he would do. “Never have been. Never will be.”

“Maybe you should be,” he muttered, some of the light leaving his eyes.

Your eyes narrowed as you tempered the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Seeing this vulnerable side of him also brought out your protective instinct. “Listen to me. You’re amazing and a good man, okay? And if I don't get to call myself an idiot for spilling a drink on you, then you don't get to say I should be scared of you, Sergeant Barnes,” you said with an air of finality.

He gave you an impressed smile. “Just like that? Because those are totally different things you're comparing.”

“Just like that,” you said, putting your hand on the table for him to take if he wished. “Do you trust that I'll have your back on this mission? Because I trust that you'll have mine no matter what.”

He stared at your upturned hand for a moment before he took it. “You're one of the only people I do trust,” he admitted.

His eyes bore into yours as you tried to find the words to respond. He wasn’t feeding you a line to make you feel good about yourself. Bucky Barnes trusted you.

“Then trust me when I say we got this,” you promised. You would look out for him and let him know that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in you.

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

“Oh. Well. My last boyfriend dumped me for being an agent. Seriously, he didn't like the fact that I could kick his ass if I wanted to,” you told him, squeezing his hand without meaning to. He didn’t object. “Which I wouldn't.”

“You could kick my ass if you wanted to,” he winked. Physically, Bucky was broad and strong. You weren’t sure you could take him in a real fight, but you could take him another way if he ever offered. “And your ex sounds like an asshole if he can’t stand beside and support an amazing woman.”

You smiled humorlessly. “Thanks, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“I swear to fuck if you talk down about yourself again, I will put you over my knee,” he threatened, his eyes darker than they were seconds ago.

You didn’t laugh as he stared at you. Neither did he. Your clothes suddenly felt too heavy, your body too warm. Licking your lips, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Is that a promise?”

Bucky pushed his chair back and pointed at his thigh, his eyes still on you. “Get over here and find out.”

Oh, fuck.

The sound of Bucky’s phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,” he muttered, taking his hand from yours. “It’s Steve. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” you said, almost knocking the chair over as you stood. “I think I'm going to call it a night.”

“Wait, what?” He asked, answering the phone. “Hold on, punk,” he said, covering the screen as he looked at you. “You’re going to bed now?”

Guilt settled in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. “Just going to lay down. I may not go to sleep right away. And we can practice more in the morning,” you replied. You just needed to step out of the room and take a breath.

He waited a beat before he nodded, the tension still lingering. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, leaving him alone so he could talk to Steve.

You splashed a bit of water on your face when you went to the bathroom to change. The assignment hadn’t started and you couldn’t keep your cool. With squinted eyes, you pointed at your reflection and mentally scolded yourself. Yes, you wanted Bucky Barnes and maybe, just maybe, some part of him wanted you. At least, he wanted you enough to put you over his knee.

You couldn't have him though. Could you? Mixing business with pleasure could lead to complications if you crossed that line, but it wasn’t like you’d break some major bylaw by being his girl.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Get your shit together,” you hissed, rushing through your nighttime routine and changing into your comfortable yet sexy nightgown.

Your eyes went to the bed when you left the bathroom. Just a regular hotel bed. Inviting, but not overly frilly. Large enough for the both of you, but small enough that you might end up in each other’s arms.

“It’s going to be a long night,” you muttered.

Sighing, you left a light on for Bucky to see and crawled into bed, shutting your eyes as he wrapped up his call with Steve. You tried to block out the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe his nighttime routine would take a bit longer than you thought and you could drift off and wake up to the sight of his beautiful eyes and-

The bed dipped as Bucky curled up behind you, your eyes opening when he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. You were conscious of every shift in his body, every breath he took. How you could smell his lingering cologne as he pressed himself closer. How he ran warmer than you and you wanted him to heat you up even though you weren’t cold.

And that he wasn’t wearing a fucking shirt.

“I know you aren’t sleeping,” he whispered, his fingers brushing along the fabric that covered your skin. “Your heart’s beating too fast.”

He was right. It was about ready to burst through your chest. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” He asked, helping you roll over so you were on your back. He didn’t remove his hand though. “Did my ‘threat’ make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it didn't,” you assured him, heat pooling between your legs that you couldn't prevent. “I wouldn't have continued with the banter if I was uncomfortable.”

“Just making sure,” he said. “I was only teasing.”

You huffed out a laugh in an effort to cover up the crushing feeling in your chest, your arousal fading to a dull ache. “Of course, you were,” you uttered. Teasing. Nothing more. “Good night, Bucky,” you said, turning your head away.

He brought a hand to your cheek and brought your face back toward him. How did his eyes look so blue in the faint light? “Don’t go to sleep yet, please.”

“Why not?”

“You rushed to bed and now you're shutting down. I clearly said or did something wrong,” he sighed, which made you feel bad. He hadn't done anything wrong in your eyes since it wasn’t his fault you wanted his teasing to mean something. “I need to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix because you didn't break anything,” you said, the ring heavy on the finger. “But can I ask for a favor?”

“Of course,” he whispered.

You didn’t dare search out his gaze when you said, “I may need reminders this week that you don't actually have feelings for me.”

A few seconds went by before he asked in a small voice, “What?”

You took a breath to compose yourself. The last thing you needed to do was get upset for no good reason. “We’re going to hold hands and cuddle and share a bed and be a couple, but you may need to give me a reality check now and again that you only see me as an agent. Okay?”

Maybe he’d ask Steve for a new partner in the morning.

“You think I only see you as an agent?” He asked, sighing when you nodded. “I used to be good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Teasing. Flirting,” he answered, leaning in close. He stopped just before his lips touched yours. “Kissing.”

“Wait. You were flirting with me?” you said, not moving forward or back as you put a hand on his chest. His heart raced as fast as yours. And your brain couldn’t compute that implication that he wanted to kiss you. “You weren’t just practicing for the assignment?”

He huffed out a laugh this time. “You’re killing me, doll,” he whispered, closing the distance.

You imagined Bucky kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered.

You never stood a chance.

“So, you like me?” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole week together for this assignment and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and trusting you.” He chuckled almost shyly as his words sank in. “I took this assignment because of you.”

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Bucky Barnes liked you. Wanted you. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the super soldier was an entirely different level of gorgeous. He towered over even the largest of agents, with the exception of Steve, and his dark lashes framing his steel eyes were enough to pull you under.

And who were you compared to him? Just another agent. Average.

“Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth.

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He smirked against your skin before he reached down and tore your panties away. “I haven't gone on a date because of you.”

Your body throbbed with need as you met his gaze. “You're just saying that to get in my pants,” you joked.

His eyes raked down your body, stopping between your trembling thighs as he pushed his pants and underwear down. “If I had my way, I would've taken you out first,” he said, drawing a moan from you when he wrapped a hand around his thick cock. “But all I can think about right now is how loud you’ll say my name when I make you come.”

“Bucky,” you moaned, tempted to reach down and touch yourself to the sight of him.

“Louder than that,” he said smugly, rubbing the tip of his cock along your slick folds. “Fuck, I wanna take my time and explore you. Make you feel like a goddess. Treat you the way you deserve.”

It warmed your heart and sent another wave of desire through you knowing he wanted to take care of you. “I know you'll treat me well,” you smiled, opening your legs wider. “But for now, please, fuck me.”

He didn't ask about birth control, which you were on. You didn't ask about condoms. It didn't matter. You wanted to feel all of him.

You glanced down as he lined himself up, watching as he slowly eased into you. It was overwhelming as you took every inch, your mouth falling open with a moan. You floated in a cloud of lust, the sound of his groan reaching your ears.

“Look at me,” he ordered as he bottomed out.

Your eyes flew to his as he gripped your chin. The feel of him inside you, his eyes staring so intently into yours that he practically touched your soul. It was almost too much. And that was when he began to move, the weight of his body on top of yours as he fucked you in slow and deep thrusts. It was the kind of lovemaking that would make you crave more.

Crave him.

“Knew you'd take me well,” he grunted. You whined, the praise going straight to your core as you tightened around his thick cock. Your walls couldn't stop gripping him as he slid in and out. “Knew your pussy would be greedy for me. Won’t let me go.”

Your head fell back against the pillow, dizzy as he trapped your body under his. As he rolled his hips, you wondered if he’d let you ride him at some point. Maybe he’d fuck up into you as he brought your hips down. Or maybe he’d lay back and cup your breasts, let the weight bounce in his hands as you took all of him.

You’d take whatever he gave you.

The growing pleasure within you was like you were burning from the inside out, each movement from him stoking the flames. His low groans mixed with your whines, his thrusts increasing in speed when he brought his thumb to your clit. Your hand worked its way back into his hair as you cried out his name, your control slipping further and further away as he took over.

“Just like that,” he moaned. “Don’t hold back on me. Wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”

“Bucky, I'm gonna…” you trailed off, your orgasm building fast in your core and ready to burst.

“Come,” he finished for you, a filthy smirk on his face as he laced his fingers with yours.

One more thrust and you were gone, his name falling from your lips as you came. Your mouth stayed open as you spasmed, pleasure rushing from head to toe. You panted and didn't care if you'd ever properly breathe again. That was how good it felt.

“I’m close, doll,” he gritted, resembling a growl as he continued to fuck you and chase his release. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna own you.”

“Come inside me, Bucky,” you begged, watching through half-lidded eyes as his face contorted in ecstasy. It was such an erotic sight. “Please.”

He buried himself deep with a long moan as he filled you in hot, thick spurts, nuzzling his face in your neck when he finished. He said your name as he heavily breathed against your neck and it was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wrapped your arms around him when he stayed inside you, not at all bothered as your mixed release slowly trickled out.

You didn't want him to let you go.

“Well,” you huffed, a dopey smile on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I don't think we’ll have a problem convincing people we care about each other.”

He chuckled, kissing your warm skin. “And we won't have a problem sharing a bed,” he said, keeping you close as you yawned. “Sleep, doll. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, too,” you said, feeling him smile against you as you drifted off.

The delicious ache between your thighs was the second thing you noticed when you woke up. The first, of course, was Bucky’s arm and leg draped over you: warm, protective, perfect. He was still fast asleep, the blanket pooled around his waist, completely at ease with the world. You could get used to waking up like this.

You hesitated before you touched his cheek, not wanting to wake him as you kissed his forehead. You wished you had time to kiss every scar on his body and worship him the way he said he wanted to worship you. The two of you would have to leave the bed sooner or later. There was work to do.

“Mmm. Morning,” he said, his voice laced with sleep as he cracked an eye open.

“Morning,” you whispered, cuddling closer as he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed over the ring. The motion made you brush against his crotch and you were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath. You did it again, keeping your gaze innocent as he opened his eyes more and groaned.

Yes, there was work to do, but it was still early.

“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?” He teased.

“Yeah, I’m still horny,” you replied. Waking up next to him would arouse anyone. “Need you to fuck me again.”

“You won’t be able to walk if I fuck you again,” he smirked, rolling on top of you and digging his fingers into your waist.

“Should’ve known you’d be a cocky boyfriend,” you teased back, your heart thundering in your chest as he leaned down and skimmed kisses along your jaw. “Sorry, we didn’t put a label on this and there’s still stuff to figure out and the mission and-”

“Hey. Boyfriend, your man, whatever you want to call me, I’m yours,” he cut you off, his mouth drifting to your neck. “And I still owe you a date, got it? You’re my girl. You’re mine.”

“I'm yours,” you gasped when he nipped your skin hard enough to sting, his tongue soothing it after. You were his and he was yours. “So, we're a couple now? Just like that?” You smiled as he worked his way back to your lips.

Bucky answered you with a kiss. “Just like that.”

I struggled a bit with this one after having to scrap almost 2k and go in another direction, but I ended up falling in love with it. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[inkedbybarnes]

unclear

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: everyone thinks you're dating bucky, except yourself.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni. miscommunication (i love this trope, sue me), angst with a happy fluffy ending, quite stubborn reader, implied smut if you squint, usage of petnames such as baby and doll. lowercase for basically everything.

i haven't finished anything in decades, but i suddenly had an idea just now and decided to write it down. surprisingly, i finished it? might have a lot of mistakes and such since i haven't proofread it yet. also, sorry for using lowercase for this, i kinda like how it looks. hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you're confusing me. so... you're not dating bucky?”

wanda tilted her head, confusion etched on her face as you spent your weekly girl's night with natasha. it usually consisted of eating food you all desired, drinking until you got wasted, and spilling secrets to one another.

although tonight, you weren't sure if you had any secrets to spill.

"as far as i know, no. we're just friends, teammates. nothing else," you answered with a heavy sigh. "can we talk about something else?"

"hold your horses, young lady! we are not skipping this topic again. you obviously want a label but he isn't giving you one!" wanda protested. she has been constantly asking about you and bucky's relationship for the past weeks, and you always had the same answer. you don't know.

"have you never talked about it with bucky? he looks at you like you'd get lost if he looks away for a second. not a single soul in the tower would think that you're just friends," natasha interjected, taking another sip from the bottle of beer she held. she had a point, as always. "if he's just playing with you, which i highly doubt for barnes, then just end whatever that is. you deserve better than having doubts and confusion, babe."

you've tried asking him multiple times, but every attempt felt like you were stepping on his boundaries. after years of being controlled by hydra, you knew it was possible that he'd hate the feeling of being rushed and entering a relationship that could potentially feel like a cage to him.

but natasha was right. your "relationship" was no longer anything friendly. he sleeps in your bed, claiming he slept better in it, and wakes up beside you to shower you with kisses. none of you even tried to hide it after some time. you always cooked your meals and ate them together, casually feeding one another and stealing kisses in between. you even stopped going on dates and you had no idea if you were exclusive. you deserved to know what your relationship with bucky was, but you were too scared to lose everything once you asked.

"we're not dating. i only see him as a friend, so you can both stop worrying about me." you lied through your teeth, your chest aching as you realised how stupid this was. you sighed and faked a smile, shifting the attention to natasha. "so, tell me about your date with steve! how was the first ever date of captain america since the 40s?"

wanda was distracted by the question, immediately bombarding the now blushing widow with questions. on the other hand, your mind flew away for a minute, finally deciding to get an answer from bucky.

the annual ball that tony stark held for, well, nearly anyone, was nearing. you only had two weeks left, and you haven't even gone out to find something to wear. it was hard to find any motivation to do all that effort when the person you've been waiting to ask you as his date hasn't asked you yet.

although, bucky had a tendency to get shy and hold back. you knew that. so here you were, standing behind the doors to the gym, knowing that bucky would be training at this hour. you still haven't asked him the question you were supposed to ask him, so you decided to do it all at once.

after you've finished your small pep talk, you opened the door to enter the room and your first instinct was to search for bucky.

considering that he was a huge chunk of a man, he was easy to find. however, the sight of him standing in front of a woman that was too close for your comfort wasn't delightful.

he didn't see you entering the room since he was facing the opposite direction, conversing with the agent that happened to be training as well. she had the sweetest and flirtiest smile on her face, bringing her hand up to his arm, slowly caressing it. you didn't mean to easily hear their conversation as you walked closer.

"so, do you happen to have someone for me to have as a date for the ball? i don't want to be lonely on that night, sergeant," the agent said with an extra pout, swaying her hips side to side like a child asking for candy.

"oh, yeah? i think i have someone for you," bucky replied, breaking your heart into pieces with how enthusiastic he was with his answer. "i'm sure you'll—"

you sniffed. unconsciously. not knowing that your tears were already falling, causing your nose to get stuffy. how pathetic, you thought.

your little sniff caught the attention of both the agent and bucky, looking at you in shock. although, the girl was more pleasantly surprised than the opposite. thankfully, you already had your tears wiped before they could see them.

"oh, we didn't see you there!" she greeted you with your name. "we were just talking about our date for this year's ball. who are you bringing?"

"i haven't decided yet, no one's worth it even if i try," you answered bitterly. "so you're going together?"

before bucky could answer, the agent already had her arm wrapped around his, happily smiling at your question. "yeah! amazing, right? i actually thought you two had a thing, but i guess not. glad things worked out in the end."

and that was your last straw. "well, enjoy yourselves. i have to go and find natasha."

you turned to leave, ignoring the loud calls of bucky. you were glad that you never asked him about your relationship and the ball. you were going to be hurt either way.

you spent the next hours stuck in your room, body covered with a thick sheet as you ranted about your frustrations to friday.

it was silly, you knew that, but you refused to call natasha and wanda to remind you of your stupidity and decided to let an ai robot listen to your problems instead.

"and he even flirted back! answering coyly like a teenager. he's 107 years old, fri!" you whined, not noticing the new nickname you've given the alternative intelligence. "ugh, now i have a broken heart and no date in sight. how did it get to this?"

"perhaps you must discuss this matter with sergeant barnes first. your conversation ended quite abruptly with no clear conclusion."

"no, i don't want the truth rubbed on my face," you said, grabbing another piece of tissue to sneeze in. "you restricted him from entering my room, right?"

friday answered with a yes, then you thanked her for listening and decided to get some sleep after tirelessly crying for hours. you knew you had a team meeting with the avengers in a bit, but you couldn't bring yourself to even walk a few steps.

your sleep ended and you were woken up with friday's reminder that it was time for dinner with the team.

with a groan, you pushed yourself off your bed. bucky would be there, but you were too hungry to care. it would be awkward, of course, but you had to face him at some point anyway.

your feet padded towards the door, opening it after trying your hair in a bun.

"ah, fuck."

you jumped at the voice and the body falling to the floor as you opened the door.

"bucky?" you asked, still in shock. "were you sleeping outside of my room?"

you watched bucky stand up, his hand massaging his aching nape as he looked for your eyes. "friday won't let me in. i waited outside instead. i guess i fell asleep during that," he explained, a frown forming on his face. "did you restrict me from entering our room?"

your eyes widened at his choice of words. our room. he considered your room to be his room as well. while that would've made you melt in an instant, you were still hurt to entertain that possibility.

"this is my room, barnes. not yours, not ours. and yes, i had you restricted because i couldn't face you yet. what do you need anyway?"

"i wanted to see you, talk to you." a flash of pain crossed his eyes. "whatever happened at the gym, it's—"

"bucky, you don't have to explain anything to me. we're just friends. it's my fault i assumed we were something. i just need some time to get over it."

"but i thought we were something as well..." he replied, his voice was almost as quiet as a whisper. "i thought we were dating."

"were we?" you asked, genuinely curious. "we never.. you never said anything. i mean, yeah, i wished it meant something, but i thought you wouldn't want to be trapped in a relationship with me, so i just waited. apparently, i was right and i can't blame you for that."

"right about what? the thing that happened in the gym this morning?" he asked. you nodded in response. "i know it sounds like i was flirting back, well i didn't know at the moment, until i asked steve who was clueless but he called nat to help me out and explained that it looked like i was flirting back. i wasn't. i was just going to suggest sam as a date for her. i would never agree to anyone."

oh. so he just wasn't interested in anyone at all.

"besides this one girl who's constantly been in my head. that's if she'd even give me a chance and say yes. i fucked it up badly before i could even ask her properly."

you knew what hoping got you, but you couldn't help but think that he was talking about you. he'd have to be clueless to say all those things in front of you only for it to be someone else.

"i love you, baby. i should've told you that, i should've made it clear sooner. i'm so sorry i let you have doubts when i could've been reassuring you about what i feel for you."

"bucky..."

"i would never feel trapped with you, doll. only you made me feel so much love and freedom. i'd be a fool to let go of that. i'm sorry it took a few hits and harsh words from natasha to make me realise that i wasn't giving you enough when you deserve everything." he held your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him. you felt breathless, tears threatening to fall but this time it was out of joy. "hydra made sure i had no voice to express myself. now, i'll use it to let you know that i love you so fucking much that it hurts when you're not around. i promise to work on it. if anything like this happens again, ask me, baby. demand things from me. i'll give you everything in a heartbeat."

"even if i ask for your arm?"

he laughed, a sound that was music to your ears. "it's yours baby. although, i do like fucking you with my metal—"

"bucky!" you scolded him, hitting him lightly on the chest.

"sorry, baby. couldn't help it. missed my girl so much."

his girl. you loved hearing that.

"it's only been a few hours. don't be silly," you reminded him, but you knew you also felt the same.

"i miss you even when i don't see you for a second." you couldn't help but laugh at his words. "something funny, doll?"

"sorry, natasha said something similar about you a few days ago," you answered. "i'm sorry for assuming so quickly, bucky. you deserved the chance to explain."

"and you did let me explain. i can't blame you for assuming and getting hurt when i never gave you the confirmation to believe otherwise. don't apologise for it, baby."

"i love you," you said, causing him to grin widely.

"yeah? you love me too?" he asked, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "this is official now, right? we're dating?"

you nodded happily, giggling as he landed a kiss to your mouth. "so, you wanna go to the ball with me?"

he kissed you again. "don't. i'm supposed to be asking you that. i had an entire thing prepared for you, i even dragged half of the team to help me out days ago. besides wanda and natasha, of course. couldn't let them tell you about it."

your heart swelled, he was already planning to ask you before all of this misunderstanding happened, and it could've been solved with communication. lesson learned, indeed.

"well hurry because i can't wait to say yes," you playfully threatened him, kissing the tip of his nose until the loud rumble of your stomach interrupted your sweet moment. "ah, right. i was on my way to eat dinner when i opened the door."

bucky laughed, his eyes twinkling witth adoration as he kept his eyes on you. "we can't have you starving, that's for sure. come, let's get you something." he held your hand, and dragged you to the kitchen. he turned to look at you with a playful smile. "wanna cook together like the old times?"

you smiled. "like the old times."

in the middle of your cooking session, you heard whistles and claps along with the footsteps that entered the kitchen. you both turned to find the rest of the team with shit eating grins.

"finally! so is this real or do we need to smack your heads?" tony asked, his hand placed on his hip.

"it's always been real, stark," bucky answered, wrapping his arm around your waist. "except this time, i'm making sure my entire world knows it."

"i think everybody knows you have a thing for each other, barnes." clint added.

"i meant my entire world, not everybody." bucky looked at you with awe. "she's my world."

bucky's answer gained various loud reactions from the team, mostly calling him a cheesy old man and fake gags, but there you were, cheeks heating up as you looked back at him with the same amount of love, if not more.

and he did ask you to be his date to the ball the day after, surprising you with his so-called secret plan.

a year later, he surprised you with a ring as he knelt on one knee.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[harrysfolklore]

grapes - hs

summary: harry won’t let his girlfriend break her new years tradition

folkie radio: i couldn’t let the year end without posting one last harry fic! i really hope 2025 brings us so much content (including hs4!!) happy new year 💘

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The party was in full swing at Jeff and Glenne's house, the air buzzing with anticipation as midnight drew closer. Music thumped through the speakers, and everywhere you looked, people were laughing, dancing, and celebrating the final moments of the year. You were nestled against Harry's side on one of the plush sofas, his arm draped casually around your shoulders.

"You okay, love?" Harry asked, noticing you checking your phone for the time again. "You seem a bit distracted."

You gave him a small smile, fiddling with the sequins on your dress. "Yeah, I just... it's silly, really."

"Tell me," he encouraged, turning to face you properly. His green eyes were soft and curious in the dim party lighting.

"Well, it's this tradition I have. Every New Year's at midnight, I eat twelve grapes - one for each chime of midnight. It's supposed to bring good luck for each month of the new year. My grandma started it when I was little, and I've done it every year since."

Understanding dawned on Harry's face. "And we haven't got any grapes here."

You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. "Like I said, it's silly. It's just... it would be the first year I haven't done it.”

Harry glanced at his watch - 11:40 PM - then pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. "Give me fifteen minutes."

Before you could ask what he was planning, he was up and weaving through the crowd. You watched him stop to say something to Jeff, who nodded and pointed toward the kitchen.

Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. People were starting to gather around the TV for the countdown, champagne flutes in hand. You tried not to feel too disappointed, telling yourself it was just a tradition, just some grapes.

At 11:57, you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. Harry was slightly out of breath, his curls messier than before, but he was grinning triumphantly. In his hand was a small bowl filled with exactly twelve grapes.

"Harry," you gasped, "how did you-"

"Let's just say I now owe Jeff's neighbor a very expensive bottle of wine," he chuckled, settling back beside you. "Apparently, she's the only person in Beverly Hills who keeps fresh fruit in the house on New Year's Eve."

You felt tears pricking at your eyes as you took the bowl from him. "You went door-to-door looking for grapes?"

"Course I did," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Couldn't let you break your tradition, could I?"

The countdown started, people shouting in unison. "TEN! NINE!"

You quickly counted the grapes - exactly twelve.

"EIGHT! SEVEN!"

Harry pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"SIX! FIVE! FOUR!"

You readied your first grape, heart full of love for the man beside you.

"THREE! TWO! ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

As cheers erupted around you, you started eating the grapes, one by one, just as you had every year since childhood. Harry watched you with amused affection, waiting patiently for you to finish before pulling you in for your New Year's kiss.

"Happy New Year, love," he murmured against your lips.

"Happy New Year," you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Thank you for this. For understanding how much it meant to me."

He smiled, that soft, private smile that was reserved just for you. "Your traditions are important to me because they're important to you. Even if it means running around the neighborhood at midnight looking for grapes."

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. "I think this might be my favorite New Year's tradition yet."

"What, the grapes or the kiss?"

"Both," you decided. "Definitely both."

[hellsquills]

Do you think Ford knew how old he was when he came back? Because I don't think so.

He's been all around the multiverse, in places that definitely didn't follow the laws of physics of his home dimension. Time works differently depending on the place he lands on, and he never gets used to any of them because he knows he'll have to leave sooner or later.

So time passes. He can feel himself age, of course, but he doesn't know how long it's been since he fell through the portal. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he can see wrinkles paired with new scars, and his hair is getting grayer, but that could simply be a sign of stress. And sure, his body hurts when he wakes up, but he's constantly on the move and sleeping anywhere he can, obviously he's not going to be in the best shape! All things considered, he's a pretty fit man for any age, and whatever years he's been alive for is not his priority right now.

When he comes back home, after his first encounter with Stan, he finally gets a moment to think about his new and old family. His brother looks older, obviously, and certainly different from what he imagined (not that he thought about him often, of course not). His hair is whiter than his own, and he has even more wrinkles than him! Just how badly was he taking care of himself in the... how many years... wait, did he say 30?!

I don't think Ford was necessarily thinking of a higher or lower number. I don't think he expected anything more or less: the way he sees it, it could've been anywhere from 10 to 1000 years. Time was meaningless between dimensions. I think that the sole reminder that time still passed was what got to him.

That shock came full force after Weirdmageddon, when he realized that Stan was his same age, despite the differences in their physiques. It was the fact that they were both around 60 years old, and they had been apart for 40 years. Two whole thirds of their lives. They were supposed to grow old together, maybe not in the same house (or boat), but close to each other. That, paired with how old and worn down Stan looks, Ford can't help but feel like he's now years younger than him, and he hates thinking about it because with the way Stan had been living for the last 40 years, just how much longer- no, stop, don't think about it.

Ford's paranoia turns into hypochondria, but towards his brother. This translates as Ford desperately trying to cut Stan's bad habits (such as alcohol and smoking), making sure he eats well (Ford can't cook for shit) and semi-forcing him to do some exercise. Stan is not on board with these measures, and he lets his brother know just that because he's being bossy and annoying and he would like to enjoy his amnesia in peace please. Ford is as stubborn as a mule, but eventually he gives up and just begs Stan to please consider some of his suggestions because he wants him to be better. Stan still refuses, but every once in a while Ford catches him doing some exercise by himself or ordering a non alcoholic drink, and it makes him happy.

When they return to Gravity Falls, the twins look the most identical they've looked since they were like 10: Stan's eyes have a shine that Soos had never seen before, and his new and improved posture makes him look taller, like the weight of the world had been lifted off of him. Ford, on the other hand, has a fuller face and body, his expression is now softer and somewhat kinder, and he walks much more carelessly, like he's strolling instead of marching.

Ford doesn't care how old he is anymore, because now he's growing old next to his brother.

[moldycheezeit]

Chapter 1

You were a good kid, great kid even. But no one ever really knew, well maybe your high school science teacher and Alfred, but they were the only ones.  

Someone out there is probably thinking ‘‘well what about your mom she would surely care?” Well to bad she wasn't there, well at first she was, during the pregnancy, but when it was time for you to come into the world all of a sudden she didn’t fit into said world. So death took her away from you minutes after you were born. 

For that and maybe because you look like her, they probably wouldn’t know because they barely look let alone talk to you, they neglected you and it hurt because these are the people who are supposed to love and care for you. But with the help of Alfred you learned to take care of yourself which leads you to this moment. Like right now where you are standing at this very moment. At the school's science fair because you, even if people don’t believe it because of how pretty you are, are really smart when it comes to science. You learned for your love of science by reading a book that your mom had written and left behind after she passed. She left behind many more things for you but this stood out among the rest. It was mostly filled with ideas on things to create and ways that could make it possible. So you tried the one that you found the most interesting and figured out a way to create it. Of course it took a bunch of trial and error but you made it work with what you had. Seeing as Bruce never gave you any money ,like an allowance, you had to find scraps to make your inventions work. Now let’s get back to that competition. 

You are currently standing next to the table with your invention ‘the gauntlet’ yea you didn’t know what to name it. What it can do is tell you any sickness or disease if you were to type in the symptoms of your patient. It takes the form of a bracelet but when activated it basically takes up the back of your hand and half of your forearm. It has two screens, one that you use to type and the other that gives off a hologram-like screen. Yea it’s clunky and doesn’t look right at the moment, but for your first model it’s great. 

While standing around waiting for the judges to come see your product you see a man. He looked to be in his 40’s and had short brown hair, a weird looking goatee, and was wearing… sunglasses? Indoors…welp at least he’s not wearing something stupid like a bat suit. He does look familiar but you can’t remember were from. You notice he’s looking around at the invitations and talking to the creators. And he seems to be heading in your direction like right now. He’s 5 tables away, 4, 3, 2– “Hey kid what’s this you got?” The man is smiling like he’s actually interested in what you have to say. That is not really normal. “This is a gauntlet I created to tell you of any sickness or disease if you were to type in the symptoms of your patient.” You had responded to the man’s question confidently. “Wow you really programmed it to do all that.” He questioned, interested in the gauntlet that sits in the display case. “Yes, it took me a while to do it though.” You had said, uttering the last part to yourself. “ I can imagine seeing as I've done a bunch of stuff just like it.” The uh.. Weirdo, yea lets go with that, had told you. Now that surprised you, But before you could ask any questions the weirdo ,as you've dubbed him, started walking away. “Alright see you later kid, hope you win with that invention you got.” you could hear his voice starting to fade a bit as he walked away. And all you could think was ‘ Man was a weirdo.’ 

It's been a while since the judges had come over to your table, because right now they were deciding on who the top 3 will be. You kinda hoped one of them would be the red haired kid who made that moving metal arm out of scraps. To you it was just really cool. You can't help but hope to get in the top 3 as well because the winners get cash. ‘ I need that money so I can create more inventions, yea using what I have on hand is good but there is a limit of how much I can do with it. Not like Bruce would give me any.’ you had rolled your eyes thinking about that last sentence. Hopefully with the creations your mom thought of they could help you get enough money to never rely on that man again.

Just as you ended that thought the speakers in the hall started projecting what the announcer was saying into the mic. “ Can all the contestants make their way to the stage, the judges have finally made their decisions.”  You and all the other contestants start making your way to the front where the judges are.  luckily it's not that far of a walk and when you get there you all stand in a crowd.  when you all get there the announcer starts speaking “ even though we had a lot of good intentions this year only about three of you can make the top.  so we'll start from 3rd to 1st place in order of who got which.” As the crowd stands there in anticipation  the announcer starts speaking again “ In third place is kidd with his metal arm that he has made to help people who are missing limbs, we hope to see more in the future for him.” as people clap you see the red-haired kid you saw earlier walking up to get onto the stage in the announcer hands him a third place medal and a check with money on it. “ Now for second place Elijah who has made a machine that can take packages of  food and can make them into full meals.” Just like before you had seen this kid Elijah start walking up to the stage and when he got on the stage he had received his second place medal in his check that he had won. “And finally for our first place we have a (y/n) Wayne who has shown us a gauntlet. That can help people in the medical field  identify diseases  if they have a hard time figuring out what they are or what the patient has.” You're surprised to hear that you knew you were smart but you didn't know you would win first place. As you walk up to the stage you have a rush of excitement in you. Finally, you can have money to help create your inventions, your mom's inventions. you can finally fulfill the dream she had that she wrote in her books from before you were born.But when you go on stage the announcer only handed you the first place medal you were surprised to not see a check that came with it then out of the corner of your eye you see the same weirdo man from earlier with a big check walking towards you. “ Hey kid you won just like expected, hopefully you can put this money to use and make more amazing creations like the one you made for today.” But you couldn't help but say “ you look familiar.”  and happily he answers your question saying “I'm Tony Stark kid.” Ah.so that's why he looked so familiar. 

If you watch one piece see what I did there. ٩(^ᗜ^ )و I thought it would be a funny thing to put in. Also sorry I keep posting at like 1am its really the only time I'm free

Taglist : @cxcilla @starslightzz @jackchanzzz @simpingpandas @galaxypurplerose @spqce-buns @peche4et3chocolat @ryuushou @moon0goddess @fanficloverlol

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hi! Can I please request a Bucky x fem!reader where she is a mutant (from present day) with the ability to time travel, but she does not know how to control/use her powers, so she accidentally sends herself all the way back to the 40s and she doesn’t know how to send herself back. She meets Bucky and Steve and they quickly become her best friends and also take her in because she has no where to live (due to her time traveling there, but they don’t know that) and her and Bucky fall in love and get married. After losing both her husband, Bucky, and her best friend, Steve (she, like the rest of the world, has no clue either of them survived) her grief starts up her powers again and she finds herself back to present day, right smack dab in the middle of the Avengers HQ while they’re having a meeting about Bucky (this is after he has been captured, when Zemo is about to talk to him). The Avengers are 100% ready to fight this perceived threat that just came out of nowhere, but Steve, after taking a second to process (he is BAFFLED), realizes that this is one of his best friends, his other best friend’s wife, from the 40s, and Y/n just starts crying and throws herself into his arms because her best friend is alive �� He’d be so shook to hear that she was never actually from the 40s, but from present day. Anyway, when Zemo triggers the Winter Soldier to come out, when Steve and Sam bring him to that warehouse and have his arm trapped so he can’t move, Y/n comes along with them and sees her husband (who she thought was dead) for the first time since the 40s (for her it hasn’t been that long though because she time traveled back to present day right after losing him and Steve, so the grief is fresh) and Bucky immediately starts crying because his wife is there 🥺 (Steve 100% knows right then and there that he’s speaking to Bucky, not Winter Soldier)

Together Again » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: 40s Bucky Barnes x Mutant/Enhanced!Female Reader with Pre Serum Steve Rogers, Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mutant/Enhanced!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America and the Avengers

Summary: Your somehow loose control with your time travel abilities and it sends you all the way to the 1940s and you end up meeting Bucky and Steve. After hearing the devastating news about your husband’s death and disappearance of your best friend, or so you thought, your abilities send you back to the time period you’re supposed to be in and find out your husband and best friend have been alive the whole time and you two are finally together again.

Warnings: Fluff, language, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the beautifully detailed request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Gif credits go to the creators.

You’re still trying to get used to having the ability to time travel. You don’t know how to control them yet and you ended up time traveling to a time period you’ve never been to. You looked around frantically. You were in an alleyway, but you don’t know where. You ran out of the alleyway to find something to tell you where you are and what time period you’re in. You looked around, seeing old cars and not as many businesses as the time period you’re supposed to be in.

“Ma’am?” You heard a voice from behind you.

You yelped and turned around, seeing two guys. One is a tall brunette and the other one is a blonde who’s about the same height as you. Both of them have blue eyes.

“Are you lost?” The brunette asks.

“Very. I’ve never been here before.” You say. “Can you guys tell me where I am?” You asked politely, trying to stay calm.

“Brooklyn, New York.” The blonde tells you.

“What year is it?” You asked curiously.

“You don’t know what year it is?” The brunette asks.

You shook your head no.

“It’s February 1941.” The brunette tells you.

Your eyes widened and your heart started to thud in your chest. You looked around, trying to gather your surroundings. That’s when you realized you were getting judgmental stares from anyone who walked past you.

“Why- Why’s everyone staring at me?” You asked.

“I think it’s because of what you’re wearing.” The blonde says.

You frowned and looked down at your outfit. You’re wearing a sweatshirt, black leggings, and your favorite sneakers. What’s wrong with that? Your mind was all over the place that you completely forgot that women in the 1940s don’t wear clothes like what you’re currently wearing.

“How about you come home with us so you’ll be warm and I’ll get you something to where?” The brunette suggests.

You stared at the two men for a few seconds before nodding your head. You walked with them, both of them on either side of you.

“What are your names?” You asked.

“I’m James, but everyone I know calls me Bucky.” Bucky introduces himself.

“And I’m Steve.” Steve introduces himself. “What’s your name?” He asks.

“Y/N.” You tell them.

When you got to their apartment, you looked around and sat down on the couch, nervously played with your fingers.

“Bucky will be back in a little bit. He went to his parents house to see what his sister has for you to wear.” Steve says, handing you a glass of water.

You smiled and accepted the glass of water.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” He says.

You nodded.

“It’s ok. I understand. I used to be like that before Bucky and I became friends.” He says.

You smiled at how understanding Steve is. You and Steve maintained a great conversation till Bucky got home.

“My sister gave me a few options for you to choose from.” Bucky handed you a few hangers of outfits. “You can change in my bedroom. It’s at the end of the hall.” He says.

You smiled and went to Bucky’s bedroom. You laid the outfits on his bed and looked at them, trying to decide which one you should wear. You settled with a floral skirt with a matching short sleeved blouse. You put it on and looked down at it, smoothing it out with your hands. You went back to the living room.

“What do you guys think?” You asked.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Steve compliments with a smile.

Bucky’s jaw dropped. He was stunned by your beauty. He’s never seen a woman as beautiful as you.

“What do you think, Bucky?” You asked.

Bucky is still stunned. Steve poked his cheek to get his attention. He swatted his hand away, making you giggle.

“You’re drop dead gorgeous, doll.” Bucky finally compliments.

“Thank you.” You blushed.

A smile formed on Bucky’s face the more he looked at you. He knew he that you, him, and Steve are going to be great friends. Actually, Bucky wants more with you. He can see a future with you.

Shortly after that day, Bucky and Steve let you move in with them. You still haven’t told them that you have the ability to time travel and you’re not actually from that time period. You have a feeling that they won’t believe you. You might as well be honest with them and tell them.

“Bucky? Steve? I need to tell you guys something.” You say nervously.

“What is it, doll?” Bucky asks.

“I haven’t told you guys everything about me.” You say.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks.

“Promise you guys will believe me?” You asked.

They nodded.

“I’m not actually supposed to be in this time period.” You tell them.

“Of course you do, doll.” Bucky put a comforting hand on your knee. “You belong here.” He says softly.

“That’s sweet of you to say, Bucky, but I’m serious. I’m not actually supposed to be in the 1940’s.” You say.

“If you think you’re not supposed to be in our time period, what time period do you think you’re supposed to be in?” Steve asks.

“In between the 2010s and 2020s.” You say.

Bucky’s and Steve’s eyes went wide when they heard those years.

“You’re supposed to be almost 100 years in the future?” Steve asks.

You nodded.

“The only way you’d get from the future all the way back here is time travel.” Bucky says.

You stared at them, waiting for them to realize it, in which they did. Both of them had shocked looks on their faces.

“Did you use a Time Machine to get here?” Steve asks.

“Not exactly.” You answered. “The time period where I’m supposed to be in has superpowers and abilities. Those who have superpowers or abilities are enhanced or mutants.” You explained.

“Which one are you?” He asks.

“I’m a mutant.” You tell them.

“You don’t look like a mutant.” Bucky says.

“You look like a normal human like us.” Steve says.

“Thank you, guys.” You smiled.

“Which do you have? Superpowers or abilities?” Bucky asks.

“Abilities.” You answered.

“What are your abilities?” He asks.

“I have the ability to time travel, but I don’t know how to control them.” You explained. “So now, I guess I’m stuck here.” You say.

Bucky’s and Steve’s minds are completely blown right now. They always thought that superpowers and abilities were fictional in the books they’ve read. They would’ve never guessed that they’re real.

“Do you guys believe me?” You asked nervously.

“Of course we do, doll.” Bucky smiles.

You smiled and hugged them.

A few weeks go by and you’re still getting used to life in the 1940s. Bucky and Steve are making it easier for you to adjust to this time period. Also, you’ve started to develop a crush on Bucky. Bucky has the same crush on you as well.

“Hey, Bucky. What’re you reading?” You asked, walking in his bedroom and sat down on his bed next to him.

“Reading The Hobbit.” Bucky says.

You couldn’t help but giggle.

“What’re you laughing about, doll face?” He asks in a playful voice.

“You reading The Hobbit.” You giggled again. “That makes you a nerd.” You joked playfully.

“There’s no need for name calling, doll.” He says, still sounding playful.

“What’re you going to do about it, James?” You playfully taunted.

Bucky grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap and started tickling you. You giggled and squirmed on his lap.

“Bucky, st-stop!” You giggled.

“Nope! This is what you get for calling me a nerd.” He says.

“You- You didn’t let me fin-finish.” You laughed. “I-I think you’re a cute nerd.” You say.

Bucky stopped tickling you. You laid across his lap, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re cute too, babydoll.” Bucky says softly, gently cupping your cheek.

“Really? Even if I’m a mutant?” You asked.

“Yes.” He whispers.

Silence filled the bedroom. You and Bucky gazed in each other’s eyes. You sat upright and sat next to him. You leaned in at the same time as Bucky. You two kissed passionately. His lips felt so soft against yours. You and Bucky were breathless when he pulled away.

“Woah…” You say, completely speechless.

Bucky chuckles lightly. He then cups your cheek.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Bucky asks softly.

“Yes.” You smiled.

Bucky smiles and pecks your lips a few times.

———

“I can’t believe we’re married.” You say, staring at the ring on your finger.

“You better believe it, doll. This is our life now.” Bucky smiles. “Mrs. Barnes.” He says softly.

“Mr. Barnes.” You say with a smile.

———

“Do you have to go?” You asked.

“You know I have to, doll.” Bucky whispers, gently caressing your cheek.

“I’m going to miss you.” You whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Bucky kissed you softly and sweetly.

“I’ll be home before you know it, babydoll.” He whispers.

“I love you, James.” You whispered.

“I love you too, doll.” He whispers back.

———

“Stevie!” You smiled happily when you opened the door.

“Hi, Y/N.” Steve says.

You hugged him tightly. You looked outside, expecting Bucky to be with Steve, but he wasn’t which confused you.

“Where’s Bucky?” You asked, looking at Steve.

Steve looks down and sighs, dreading that he has to tell you what he’s about to tell you.

“Y/N…” He begins softly.

“No.” You said. “I know what you’re about to say. Bucky is not dead.” You say, your voice cracking.

“I’m so sorry, but he is.” He says.

“He said he’d come home to me!” You cried.

Steve wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly.

“Tell me how he died.” You say.

“He- he fell off a train. I tried to get him, but he fell before I could get to him.” Steve tells you, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers.

Steve couldn’t stay after that. He had to go back to the Army. You laid in bed, trying to process your husband’s death. You gazed at the picture of you and him on yours and his wedding day. Your bottom lip quivered and a loud cry left your lips. That’s when a bright light lit up the bedroom…

PRESENT DAY

The Avengers were having a meeting about the Sokovia Accords when you appeared in the room. You were on the floor, crying in the fetal position. The Avengers were alarmed when they seen you and they stood up from their seats.

“Ma’am?” Steve slowly approached you. “Are you ok? Are you injured?” He asks.

You quickly recognized that voice. You know that voice. Your crying stopped and your eyes shot open. You sat up, seeing your best friend.

“Steve?” You asked.

“Y/N?” Steve asks.

You stood up from the floor and ran over to him, hugging him tightly.

“You’re alive.” You whispered.

You and Steve stood there hugging while the Avengers stared at you two in confusion. They cleared their throats to get yours and his attention.

“Who is she, Steve?” Natasha asks.

“This is Y/N. She’s Bucky’s wife. She has the ability to time travel. She’s actually from this time period.” Steve tells them.

Tears rolled down your cheeks and your bottom lip quivered when you heard your husband’s name. Steve excused himself and took you to a different room to talk.

“I have something to tell you and it may come to you as a shock, but I’m telling the truth when I say this.” Steve begins.

You sniffled, waiting for him to continue.

“Bucky is alive.” He tells you.

Your eyes went wide.

“But- but told me he was dead.” You say.

“I thought he was, but I seen him.” He says.

“When?” You asked.

“Not too long ago.” He says.

“Take me to him.” You say.

“I will once I figure out where he is. I promise.” He says.

———

“Why did you bring me to an abandoned building in a different country?” You asked Steve.

“Bucky is in here. I brought him here.” Steve says.

You looked in the room Bucky is in, gasping when you seen Bucky. You went to run to him, but Steve grabbed your arm before you could get to your husband.

“Steve, he’s waking up.” Sam informs him.

Steve walks toward Bucky with you and Sam following behind him. You stayed hidden behind Steve. Bucky frowns when he noticed that his metal arm was wedged in some kind of machine.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asks him.

“Your mom’s name is Sarah and you used to wear newspapers in your shoes.” Bucky says.

You smiled to yourself when you finally heard your husband’s voice for the first time in a while. You stepped out from behind Steve.

“James?” You asked.

“Doll?” Bucky whispers. “Is that really you?” He asks.

Bucky thought he was hallucinating for a second.

“Yes.” You confirmed softly.

Bucky somehow managed to get his metal arm out of the machine. He stood up and walked over to you. Steve stands in between you and him, just to be sure he was in Winter Soldier mode.

“Steve, please.” Bucky’s voice cracks and his eyes tear up. “Let me hug my wife.” He pleads softly.

Steve looked in Bucky’s eyes, seeing his best friend and not the Winter Soldier. He stepped aside, allowing Bucky to approach you. Bucky hugged you tightly. He broke down in tears and so did you.

“We’ll give you guys a moment.” Steve says.

Steve and Sam left the room, leaving you and Bucky alone. Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately. Your hands clutched the fabric of his henley, melting into his touch.

“I missed you more than anything, babydoll.” Bucky whispers against your lips.

“I missed you more.” You whispered back.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you, holding you against him.

“I love you so much, James.” You whispered.

“I love you more, babydoll.” He murmurs softly. “I’m never leaving you again. I promise.” He whispers, kissing the top of your head.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[bunnyinvanilla]

fancy some old man company ceo!john price x young innocent little girl!personal assistant reader? (he’s in his late 40s and shes 21)

usually, ceos weren’t the ones in charge of hiring new employees, they left the boring job to their assistants or managers — but this morning, upon coming to his office, john price was met with the sight of a young, disoriented little girl, dolled up in heels and standing cluelessly like a lost little bunny in the main hall, curriculum file in hand, probably not having a clue where to go —

being the gentleman he was, as the boss, price welcomed you inside his office, telling you not to worry about the manager you were supposed to meet up with for the application, whom you had originally planned the appointment with…

“the file says you’re twenty one and fresh out of college,” his eyes briefly emerged from the paper he was holding with his thick, ringed fingers, slowly focusing on every inch of your sitting stance, taking you in with no hesitation nor costume mannerism, shamelessly staring, in a way that made you swallow nervously and nod politely, your hands neatly folded on your lap, right where the hem of your skirt hinted to your bare thighs.

”y-yes, sir, i-im actually looking for a job as a librarian, but i’ve been in need of financial assistance since graduating, so in the meantime i could really use a part time position.” you could feel every nervous beat of your heart vibrating through your chest as you spose, your cheeks like burning flames, bright and red as you barely manage to stay still on your seat, trembling like a shy bunny — how could you find yourself working for him if you can’t even meet his gaze? “this one would be my first job..”

price just hummed, leaning back on his chair that crackled under his massive body, wrapped in a expensive tailored suit, bulk and buff muscles giving him an intimidating appearance — his thighs spread wide, legs parted.

you were a young, shy, pretty thing, sweet and polite, in the prime of her blooming youth and just eager to find her place into this world, to prove herself and make someone proud, earn their (his) praise. he had lot and lot of experience behind his back, even more years, and he was sure you would be the best, obedient good girl just by looking at you.

john price could be that someone, he was old enough to be your father, burly and exuded power and security, exactly what you needed — he could use a sweet, young personal secretary like you, all doe eyes and in need of praise and approval, make his exhausting job as the boss less stressful, you would get him lunch or coffee, print paperwork sheets for him, bring him new cigars, and even be his lap bunny, his trophy little girl, warming him up.

“you’re hired,” the words he muttered were so rough, gruff and low you had to blink twice, before opening your mouth and closing it right after.

“im sorry? oh- but— uhm, are you sure?” you felt a little dumbstruck by the rapidity of the interview, but you were thankful nonetheless, “i thought I’d have to answer more questions..”

“we have a lot of work to do here and never enough employees, sweetheart, im sure your help will be..” he let his eyes trail down on your figure again, slower this time, his large hand coming to scratch his thick, dark and graying beard as he studied you “well appreciated and rewarded, little one”

[hotchner-edu]

Let's Fall Together | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: You go on a blind date and accidentally get set up with your best friend's father. — part 2 here

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Younger (Of Age) F!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (r is over 22, Aaron is in his late 40's bc i said so), fluff, Jack being a fool

The ominous pit in your stomach when you first arrived at the restaurant should have been the first indicator that something was terribly askew. The second should have been the fact that Jack was almost too eager to set you up with someone when you mentioned wanting to date. 

Yet, you somehow ignored those warning signs and now you were sat in a fancy Italian restaurant with Jack’s father. 

“Mr. Hotchner…” You say breathlessly, mouth going dry as you stare at the man like a fish out of water. 

Approximately three minutes had elapsed since Aaron had entered the restaurant and was led to the table you were sitting at. Jack had made the reservation under his name and told you the only rule was that you actually show up and give it a chance. 

Aaron had walked toward your table with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, eyes taking in your stunned figure. 

“You can just call me Aaron, sweetheart.” Aaron raises his eyebrows a bit in amusement, looking a bit confused about the entire situation as well. He had always been adamant that you call him by his first name whenever you came over to his house to hang out with Jack, but now that same sentiment seemed a bit more intimate given the current circumstance. 

You clear your throat softly and nod, smiling a bit shyly as you try to gather your thoughts. “So… Aaron, you’re my mystery date then?” 

“Yes, it would appear so.” He answers back with a little smile that you interpret as one of discomfort, though little to your knowledge, it was actually a nervous smile. 

You frown a bit and rest your hands in your lap, trying to search for a way to quickly diffuse the situation without attracting any attention from the diners around you. “Ah… I’m sorry. We don’t have to continue this, I know it must be weird for you.” 

“Weird?” He asks, his tone indicating he knew what you meant, but also wanting you to explain anyway. 

You nod and continue. “Yeah… I mean, I’m Jack’s friend. So feel free to just head back home, I’m sorry to disappoint.” 

“Are you disappointed?” He asks and places the bouquet of flowers on the table. 

Glancing at the flowers, you aren’t sure how to answer. After a few moments, you decide to be honest. “No. I’m not disappointed.”

Aaron gazes at you in contemplation for a second before he regains his bearings and speaks to you softly, his tone kind but also direct. “Well, I wouldn’t mind continuing our date… If that’s okay with you?” 

You stare at him, trying to suppress the bright smile that threatens to break out on your face. “I would like that.” The relief and happiness you feel cannot be masked in your tone, and Aaron immediately picks up on it, his shoulders relaxing as he nods back to you.  

Dinner with Aaron goes without a hitch and conversation flows naturally with him. In the three years you’ve been best friends with Jack, you were certain you'd only ever spoken to Aaron in private a handful of times, and you were starting to kick yourself for it as you begin to realize just how wonderful your chemistry together was. 

When you’re both done eating, you begin to pull out your wallet, smiling from ear to ear from the eventful night. 

“Dinner’s on me, honey.” Aaron says softly and reaches over to scoot the bill closer to his side of the table. 

“Aren’t blind dates supposed to be split?” You ask with a grin, silently relenting and putting your wallet away despite your words. 

Aaron chuckles and shakes his head as the waiter comes back to collect the check and his card. “Is that so? I don’t have much experience with blind dates, but I thought that happens when a second date is out of the question.” 

You gape at him a bit and smile in disbelief, your thoughts a whirlwind as you picture yourself on another date with him. “Is that the rule? Well, I have a hard time believing that you don’t go on very many blind dates. I mean you’re a catch, Aaron.” You blush a little at how the words seem to spill out before your brain can restrain your tongue. 

To your utter bafflement, you see his cheeks turning a bit pink along with his ears as he tries to wave off your words. “I appreciate that but believe me, it’s been quite a long time since I’ve been on a date.” 

“I somehow still doubt that. Though, I suppose most women may be a bit intimidated to make a move on you.” You comment, thinking back to your own reluctance and personal vow to die with your crush on him. 

Aaron gives you a fond smile that has your heart stopping momentarily, his eyes twinkling under the dim pendant lights of the restaurant. “You think so?” His voice is smooth and pleasantly wrapping you in a warmth that further drags you down into your embarrassingly massive crush on him. 

“Yeah.” You nod with a small quirk of your lips. “The soccer moms at Jack’s games certainly admire from a distance… I think you just have this aura about you.”

“I must look very unapproachable in a t-shirt and jeans then.” He jokes softly and wordlessly reaches for your hand on the table, his larger fingers brushing against yours. 

You nod gently and respond in a near whisper. “Oh, definitely. I reckon you’re even more intimidating when you’re wearing something other than a suit.” You glance down at his black button up, trying to rein in your wild thoughts. 

“Should I wear a polo shirt during interrogations then?” He grins and slips his fingers between yours. 

“It would mean less dry cleaning.” You tilt your head and shift your gaze to your joined hands. 

Aaron’s thumb rubs against yours gently. “You’re right, but I have an image to maintain unfortunately.” He quips with a playful grin, his eyes staying on yours as the world around you both seems to melt away.

“Well, I envy your coworkers. They get to see you in a suit everyday.” You say with a sudden burst of confidence as the waiter walks back with the receipt and Aaron’s credit card. 

Aaron’s grin widens a bit as he thanks the waiter and looks back at you. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind when I’m choosing what to wear for our next date.” 

"Well, perhaps you can pick me up next time too so we have no more surprises in restaurants." You say with a flustered smile, watching him write out a generous tip and put away his card before pushing his seat back.

Aaron nods in agreement at your words before he stands up and walks around the table, offering his hand to you. When you're both walking out of the restaurant, his hand is on the small of your back and you're clutching the bouquet of flowers to your chest.

"You know... Jack's known about my crush on you for a while." You admit bashfully, feeling a dizzying high rush through you from how surreal the night has been.

Aaron looks stupefied by the revelation and he chuckles softly, his hand rubbing your back a bit as he walks you down the sidewalk. "Really now? And how long have you had a thing for me?" He asks with an amused grin.

"It's silly, really... but it started when you came back home after that case in Wisconsin while I was over studying with Jack. You walked in and threw your tie off, and I don't know..." You stumble a bit on your words as you recount the memory, omitting some other vivid details from that encounter as to not give away how often you think back to that day.

He gives a deep chuckle at your answer, his hand moving from your back to squeeze your waist a little. "I'm starting to see a trend here with you and me in suits."

"Yeah, yeah, well I gave up my story, what's yours? I mean, when did you realize you were interested in me, even if it was just a little." You teasingly ask, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as you subtly lean in closer to his side.

Aaron looks off into the distance as he confesses, a small boyish grin tugging at his lips. "When you brought Jack back home from a party last year. He was completely wasted and you were all disheveled in your pajamas, scolding him while he was unconscious."

"Me in sweatpants gets you hot under the collar, does it?" You suppress a laugh, smiling widely as you think back to that night. Jack had stayed out at a club and taken enough shots to send any ordinary person into the emergency room, but he had called you in a drunken haze at three in the morning, begging for you to take him home.

Before he can retort, you feel your phone ringing and you peek down at it. "Ah, speak of the devil." You sigh, showing Aaron the caller ID before picking up.

"Hey, what's up?" You ask casually, feeling Aaron leading you further into the parking lot and toward his car.

Just from his tone, you can tell he's sporting a smug grin. "You haven't called to complain. I was starting to worry you were dead. So, the date went well then?"

Aaron helps you into the passenger seat of his car as you respond with a pleased lilt in your voice. "More than well, but don't let that get to your head."

But of course, it does anyway. "I told you! You didn't trust me when I said you needed to just put yourself out there. I'm relieved though. I was worried you'd be obsessed with my dad for forever." He replies with a victorious chortle.

"Okay, fine, whatever, thanks for setting him up with me." You smile happily, watching as Aaron lifts your hand to give a kiss to your knuckles before he turns on the car engine.

Jack gives a faux sigh of exasperation, about to continue on his self-satisfied ramble before he immediately pauses. "Wait, what?"

"What?" You ask as Aaron pulls out of the parking lot, his hand mindlessly moving to rest on your knee.

"What do you mean 'setting him up with you'?" Jack asks, suddenly serious and sounding a bit like when he realized he misread his Philosophy exam deadline as being 11:59 pm instead of 11:59 am.

You pause too, glancing at Aaron before answering with an equally reluctant tone. "Uhm... as in, thank you for setting me and Aaron up."

"Huh? What the fuck! You went on a date with my dad?" Jack suddenly gasps out, choking on his spit halfway through. "What happened to Eric?" He wheezes out.

"Eric? Who's Eric?" You ask in confusion.

Jack is silent for a second as you hear muffled tapping followed by him cursing under his breath. "Ah, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I sent you the wrong address."

You tap Aaron's wrist, giving him a look that has him pulling over to the nearest curb and parking. He gives you a small frown and you put Jack on speaker.

"Jack, what the hell are you talking about?" You ask, blushing as Aaron draws shapes on your knee with his finger.

You can almost feel Jack cringing through the phone. "Okay, so I may have set you and my dad up on dates tonight but at different restaurants. And I also may have accidentally sent you the wrong restaurant address."

You and Aaron sit in appalled silence before you breathe in deeply and pinch the bridge of your nose. "You set Aaron up with someone else tonight?"

"Well, yeah! I mean, do you really want to be my stepmom?" He asks in an aghast voice, lacking any genuine disgust and telling you he's not as upset as he's pretending to be.

You suck in a breath and shake your head. "Don't worry, when I'm through with you, Aaron won't have a son anymore."

"In my defense-" Jack starts, sounding a bit more playful now.

"Goodbye, Jack!" You cut him off, hanging up and sighing. Looking up from your phone screen, you meet Aaron's gaze and you both can't contain your amusement anymore.

You snort softly and shake your head. "How mad do you think he would be if we kissed right now?"

Aaron doesn't respond with words, instead leaning over the car's center console to cup your cheek and press his lips to yours. As you're both lost in the kiss, neither of you notice your phone vibrating with text messages and silenced calls.

Jack: You both better be coming back right now

Jack: Answer me

Jack: I swear to god if you guys are making out right now

Jack: Please omg Eric just texted me, it's not too late

Jack: HELLO?!!

Jack: I will be taking credit for this at your wedding

part 2 here

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It’s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah. 

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!” 

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety. 

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets. 

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home. 

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows. 

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong. 

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look. 

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things. 

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow. 

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself. 

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though. 

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown. 

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.” 

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light. 

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know. 

So, you do. 

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t. 

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you. 

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think. 

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you. 

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate. 

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier. 

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts. 

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?” 

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you. 

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.” 

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout. 

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking. 

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright. 

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression. 

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind. 

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist. 

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight. 

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself. 

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach. 

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan. 

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

-

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

[deesseshesca]

PAC : Letter from your pregnant self. (18+)

Mama said it was ok ... mama said it was quite alright .

BUNDLE READINGS.

FUTURE LOVE + SEX DOUALA = 40$ (2for1)

✨ Down to My Core ✨

This Christmas, gift yourself clarity—a soulful journey to uncover your truth and step into the new year ready to rise. 🌙

CHARACTER UPDAPTE + LORE DUMP = 40$ (2for1)

🔥 Fire to the Moon 🔥

This Christmas, gift yourself the truth—a journey through soul ties, sexual desires, and cosmic connections. Uncover a new love story written in your stars and step into the new year with clarity and faith in love 🌙✨

PILE 1

It was supposed to be you pregnant but you came through in the hospital the evening after giving birth. You are actually talking to your baby girl.

‘’ Damn I thought it was early menopause. You should have seen my face when the doctor came back in the room after putting way too much finger in my hole. Honestly I should have guessed it when the nurse and the medical tech looked at each other with smirk while my husband and I were going crazy over my future illness. I hope you don’t hate me as I am holding you in my arms. I can’t help but admire you. I gave up on the idea of having my dream baby girl a long time ago. I know it is not fair I should have fought for you but I could not let the emptiness get to me. You know I have to be a mother to your big brothers. LOL! I remember their disgusted and concerned faces when I told them I was pregnant again. ‘’ Mama you are still doing the nasty’’ that’s what (the name of your second boy) said. Honestly I am not sure what I was expecting from anyone. The first thought that came to my mind is the fact that I am only in my mid 30. What the heck, for sure I love riding it. Actually been loving riding it. Since forever. He is the first man I ever trusted … the only I ever gave my heart. It was my first time after a very awful experience but I probably will never tell you about it but I will forever protect you against all thoses abusers out here. Ain’t no way they are touching my daughter  but your dad … he’s different. I am so happy I chose the right man to have my babies with. The way he looks at me with so much longing in eyes, the soft touch, waking me up everyday by getting your siblings ready and making my coffee so I can have some time for myself. The way he literally dedicated a whole wall in our house for pictures of our wedding like he doesn't already have 3 pictures of me and the kids on his desk at work, like he doesn't have a picture of us in his wallet and in his car. Sometimes I pinch myself when I cook and I look at my husband playing with my kids, being affectionate and their safe place because it was never like that. I never grew up like that. I used to wish on my lucky stars that I make it out of my abusive household and now I am thriving in an overabundant and loving household. Is not always easy because your dad has a demanding job but he will NEVER but none of y’all second. It doesn't matter if he is busy in a meeting or overseas, he always calls, answers texts, sends gifts, even writes letters. He always fixes his schedule to be at your siblings' competition. Honestly I am scared of the length he is ready to go for you. Actually all of them are ready to go to crazy length for you. Nah I am serious he organized the baby shower in a luxurious resort. The gender reveal happened on a helicopter ride before taking me to a 5 star hotel and showering me with gifts. Your siblings are always telling me to sit down, that they can do it, that I need to keep my energy and that they need to protect me . Damm… last time I checked I am the parent but I didn't talk back. Because miss girl you were not an easy pregnancy. High blood pressure, back pain, extreme moodiness and early labor. Like girls we get it … you were in a hurry to come to your palace but you did not have to do my body like that. Or maybe you punish me because I decided that I was infertile after a couple years with no success. I let you go. Stop fighting for you. You and your little button noise, smooth  forehead, full head of hair and pouty lips are more than worth it. This pregnancy did not feel real at first. I did not want to believe it. I was sure that it was a mistake or my blessing was going to be taken from me. Yeah… you trigger my old survival instinct. Thank God for you dad, holding my hand, telling me that everything is going to be ok  and allowing me to take my time accepting my truth. Validating how I feel because by the second semester I was more than overjoyed and confident. You are mine, my blessings and worth every ounce of goodness coming ... my precious miraculous babygirl.

XOXO

Your mama’’ 

So many nasty messages came through but y'all … I know you would never talk like that to your baby. 

The baby was created a random day after a cuddle fuck (for many anal cuddle fuck). After putting the kids to sleep, doing your night routine with your husband and cleaning the room (you don’t joke about that re-start routine because otherwise the mornings are way too chaotic in the morning) you bring yourself to the bed and decide to seduce your man with kisses and caress. Honestly it does not take a lot for your husband to be seduced by you. He and I love the fact that you still try to make marriage feel sexy with the booty shorts, sometimes having your makeup done, other times you go all out and have lunch at his work to tease him. You are litteraly his sexual fantasy like even when y’all are going to be more mature he's not going to look at younger girls (some people in this pile are scared that their husband will entertain younger girls. Never babe they are HOOK on you. Not just love or respect for the mother of their child. You have the pusy power over that mind. All he sees is you!). After a sweaty, loving but still rough session little miss finally came to you. 

You guys are going to have an amazing  sex life with your husband don’t worry your kids are never going to know (y’all get down. Y’all don’t mind calling the nanny to have ‘’sex weekend’’). In the adult world the way y’all look at each other, joke with each … you guys chemistry (y’all just look the fuck good together) people know you fucking fucking. 

Also if you read : PAC : Your dream reality, there's also glimpse of the same future channeled.

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PILE 2

‘’ Bitch WTF ! You know what life got me fucked up in all type of way. Almost like God wanting to make a joke out of me. As I am speaking, I am sitting in this comfy couch in my living living in my house,  fat as fuck, mean mugging my husband. You heard me right. HUSBAND ! I don’t even know when that shit happens. Like when did I fell in love. I mean I was never against love but think about it. Living in your dream house, enjoying yourself and you are waking up turning to your side and you see a big fat head. Let me tell you, it is not between your thighs. Nah is cuddling and calling you ‘’honey’’. EW GET THE FUCK OFF ME. It was supposed to be only a FWB but you know how men move when they have a taste of this punani. They be hearing colors, seeing starts and talking in tongues , thinking I can heal their attachment issues. Ok let me give credit where it is due … he was actually different. He made me do things I don’t usually do like talking about my feelings, eating 3 times a day and being affectionate. I swear I never gave as many hug as I did with him. LOL ! From all the billion penises on this planet I had to fall in love with the clingy one. He loves hugging me, kissing me … just being stuck on me. Before I knew it I had a ring on my finger. I even kissed him in front of my damm family. Like I am a bad bitch, a  cold ass bitch, a cool hoe not basic lucy that’s all love and light. Guess he was so good to me that I said ‘’Yes I do’’. That I could forgive. I could understand the house, the ring, the love and partnership but the baby … the baby. THE DAMM FUCKING BABY. You know what is going to do to my dream body and my mom is talking about a second one. Babe hell nah to the nah nah. This hourglass figure is not going to waste. Somewhere I guess it is my fault … Ok … So what shoot me … I LOVE SEX. I LOVE WHEN HE HITS RAW. Is that so wrong? I hate birth control… bitch my opp frl. ALways trying to give me acne or making me fat. What about him and his breeding kink ? Don’t look at me like that. I always liked it rough and nasty but … the consequence. I did not think … Bitch I am only a girl. I am a teeneager in her late twenties. Like somebody called Dr.Phil … I am losing it ! I guess I would have been more careful but there’s something about having my hair pulled, my body bound, my pussy being overstimulated and having his big dick pounding into me while we are listening  to chase the Atlantic that’s going to do it every time. Let me tell you something … this man is obsessed with my body. I was scared … you know, we always had body dysmorphia but I think my husband healed me. He can’t take his hand off me. LIKE CAN’T ! I can’t not be in a room with only him (funny since y’all living together …) always slapping my fat ass. Sneaky his hand in my full breast. That one time I was in bikini waddle around I genuinely think he was going to fuck me in the pool while the neighbor were in their backyard. We all know how vocal I am and how rough he is. Confession I still like it fucking rough ... Actually  I like it rougher. I am officially insane. There must be something wrong with me. One minute I am like ‘’aww my baby is going to be an awesome dad’’ and the very next fucking though be like ‘’ I want him choke me and force himself into me’’  and it be a front of people. Fucking embarrassing. This pregnancy hormone made me waddle around like a horny sick teenager. Anyway let me go … I was teasing him earlier. You know how bratty I can get. But now I want it ! Bye babe … I need to hop on my ride.

XOXO

Your homegirl''

I swear pile 2, y’all so fucking cute. Y’all may be the youngest of your family or friend group. Like nobody even though you would get married or even have kids. Like you don’t hate kids but you love scaring them and every time one cries you laugh. Second, y'all love to yell at men. Every time you see a man, attitude is 100%. You are so spoiled and you don’t want to share. So the thought of having to share even a spoon with even your fav muncher is weird. You guys are the personification of the sound: ‘’ WHY WOULD A MEN BE HERE ? WHY WOULD A MEN BE HERE ?’’. You guys are also the personification of women dominating male fields. You be hating on men but still fuck them because that’s all they worth (LOL GO QUEEN !). You look the fuck good and don’t play abut your beauty regiment and sleep. 

You love your husband and you are in love with your baby but affection is not something that comes easy to you. That doesn't mean you are mean, you just show love in different ways. You more an act of service (I can’t with y’all… I just heard ‘’ Good head should be enough to show I care … Don’t be greedy. Beggar cannot be choosy’’ No because PERIDOT) like cleaning, cooking, organizing, showing support, being dependable or gift giving. You always find him the best gift. 

All this to say you play though but there is a big teddy bear inside of you that is sooo happy by the way your life took a twist but fucking confuse at the same time. Sometimes you wake confused like the girl in 17 turning 30 movie. Not that you hate your life actually you love it but WTF. 

I am hearing ‘’ Rue… when was this ?’’.

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PILE 3 

‘’ LOL…Let’s thank God for the bathroom at the restaurant. Honestly I don't even know how we sneak in together and nobody said anything. I lowkey think the server had our back  because when I finally came back  after sending my husband out before me to act as normal as possible. The server brought the bill with a smirk and my baby tipped him big. Honestly I don’t regret it. He could not resist the sight of me since my makeup was perfectly done, hair blown out in perfect curls, smelling Bararat Rouge, short black dress tight on my snatch body (thank God for the workout routine I follow religiously). Honestly I am surprised he waited that long … I kind of did need to push him the fuck off me, multiple time while we were getting ready. Now I understand Bella and Edward because honeymoon energy makes you want to do it  EVERY TIME AND ANYTIME. Like how am I supposed to ignore my man when he  looks all good in his suits after he paid for the whole trip and booked this exclusive restaurant in Paris just a front of the Eiffel tower and he gave me red bottoms earlier this evening. Fuck even when we are together he keeps tricking on me. Now here we are, gel on my stomach, belly round and big and my hand in his. Swear I never saw such a big and tall guy, literally a giant being so excited like a literal kid on Christmas morning over the new addition in the family. I told him to wait before he got the name of the baby tatted because you never know what could happen (God forbid …). I never saw him in such distress when I said this. His eyes floated  with tears, he hugged me tighter, kissed my neck and whispered: ‘’ You don’t think we deserve this happiness ? or maybe you regret having this with me’’. I hug him and cry. That is my self doubt … God does my self doubt and his abandonment issue always makes us cry in each other's arms in the most gut wrenching way. Fuck self doubt … I am prepared , my doctor got our back, my baby is healthy and I am going have my fucking happy ending. I want it all, I deserve it all and I am having it all. 

XOXO

Your Fav Sugar Mama''

You guys have moneyyyy. Like yes your man has money but babe you are very much giving boss babe. You probably have or are working towards having a very demanding degree. Let me tell you something … whatever field you try to get into (I think it's very competitive) you are/will be dominating. 

Also this letter was completely off intuition … I did not pull any cards but don’t worry let’s get to the extra messages. 

Funny enough y’all may be fucking like beast in mating season before pregnancy but after that everything is going to die down. I think both of y'all have a soft exhibition kink because y’all really don’t care who hears you or sees you. While you are pregnant he is still very loving and he still think you are stunning but y’all prefer missionary, love making, cuddle fuck, being in the bed, doing it on the couch. I see a lot of loving gaze coming from them. Like they look at you  like you are the walking definition of love. So much tenderness and longing just by the way they look at you. Also they change the tone of their voice when speaking to you. Is never loud even when they are mad. When they know they are about to get mad, they sit down, take a breath and speak. Is like a routine . NEVER NEVER want to scare you or hurt you. He really is a gentle giant. When it comes to YOU. Only for you. Also if I stick to my vision, you are definitely the one that decorated the apartment. I am getting a condo, penthouse or luxurious apartment in a busy city for your house. 

They are going to be even more possessive when you are pregnant. Babe that pregnancy glow is going to do wonders for your skin. You look the fuck good. Hair is long and healthy plus is shiny. Breast sitting pretty and is full. Hips wider and the way you walk is having everyone hooked. Some of y’all have a heel addiction and you are not going to give up heels just because of a baby and that is going to make you look extra sexy. Every time you are going to try to film yourself for fun or to post,  they are going to make their presence known. Also every time y’all outside, they always have a hand on your stomach. Damn y’all already pregnant with his seed… what more does he want from you. Like sir … your territory  is already marked. You're going to love every moment of it. Cheesy like a kid because your man is even more obsessed with you. 

You are going to leave work much earlier. Not because of any health issue. From what I am understanding, y’all never took a break. Always school, work, internship, engagement, big girl job, moving in and marriage. Like is time for you to take moment and just live for the fuck of it. 

At some point y’all may not have sex. Because your man does not want to hurt you. You may actually take it well because you feel like it is going to build a big sexual anticipation for next time. So y’all are having your own version of No Nut November. 

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PILE 4 

‘’ Damm I never felt so powerful. Maybe people are gatekeeping pregnancy because they don’t want you to feel this good. Nah I am kidding. First trimester dragged me around and snatched my wig. I spend more time hugging the toilet bowl than my Baby. The headache and extremely sensitive tits, let’s not forget the hair thinning. Anyways the power I have over my Baby is insane. I am not talking about ‘’yeah is for the baby’’. Nah is like the man is hypnotized by my every move. I could tell him to jump off the roof and I am convinced with enough flirting tactics he will do it. He  does it all for me before I even ask sometime before I even think about it, he already did it. He is serious about our baby's future, opening a savings account. For the baby shower, when everyone left he told me he brought our baby investment stocking. He already put money away for his car and university loan. He already looked at a private elementary school and we might hire a cook. I have never been much of a chef but he wants our kid to have it all. The tutor, the chef, the trust fund … oh my baby boy is about to be born on a diamond plate. The way I am treated is almost like I am carrying the next world prophet. I can't wear leggings, my heels need to be a certain inch, camera are on, all time because my Baby needs to be checking that I am always safe. Don’t want me to fall down the stairs or faint in the shower which actually happened . That’s why I can’t get mad at him when his crazy protective side comes out because the end of our journey almost came too quickly.  I have a chauffeur and 24/7 maid. Fuck I am birthing the next royalty. What’s wilder is I feel fucking sexy pregnant ? I can spend hours looking at myself in intricate lingerie. Everything is right and the weight gain looks the fucking good on me. I look womanly. Idk … all my life I've been quite petite. Always looking younger than my age. I always wanted to put on some weight but people around always told me to embrace since so many try to be skinny but sitting down in my black lace robe while getting ready in the morning reinforced  my need for weight. My tits are firmer and fuller, hips are wider and my butt has a gorgeous hump to it. I love the feeling of having my thigh touching. What’s even more insane is my crazy dom husband love when I am taking charge in the bedroom. He loves it when I wake him with a handjob while speaking of my rule in my soft voice. I always knew my voice had power over him, the man almost bust a nut in his sweat the first time  I called him. Now he worships me, he can spend hours eating on my clit, sucking on my thighs and playing on my tits. The other day he was heavily leaking precum while giving clit orgasm after orgasm while I was getting ready for my day. Begging me to put the tip in and sometimes I say ‘’no’’ just to see his reaction and the man whimpered and begged. LOL ! What’s less funny is that my mom decided to become more of hater than she already is. I took my distance from her, my husband hates when I talk to her because I always end up crying but she found out that I had a baby shower. She burst screaming in my house. Everything got handle and my husband did take legal charge but fuck … I just want my mother rn. Once again she let me down. 

XOXO

Yours Truly''

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[cherbii]

TOGETHER AGAIN | Ryomen Sukuna

summary -> who knew you’d see your long, lost lover in the midst of Shibuya

warnings -> language, violence, attempted murder, SMUT! p in v, creāmpie, fingering, multiple orgasms, rough sex, high key lovey dovey Sukuna. mdni

Shibuya, at night was cold, though it used to be years back before Shibuya was, well Shibuya. Now the city glowed and was warm from all the electronic billboards and screens plastered on every building, casting flickering hues of purple and blue on the dark tar of the roads.

You weren't supposed to be here, but hours prior, sitting in your chambers did your servant tell you what someone under the name of 'Mahito' planned to do-kill sorcerers.

You decided to join, or at the very least, be present. And you thought that being a special grade curse user would set of alarm bells, you surprisingly went undetected and not disturbed, except for the occasional push and shove, as you meandered your way through the large crowds of city goers, all dressed in tacky, Halloween costumes.

The crowds of Shibuya moved in herds, with an occasional gaggle of obnoxious teenagers that laughed loudly, taking up most of the pathway to leave barely any space for a single person to move. Still, you moved forward, eyes shifting from the large buildings, to the glowing billboards, to the groups of people walking around you.

After a long while, that had felt like forever with how slow you were being pushed forward, you finally reached Shibuya Crossing.

You had yet to find any sorcerer or curse user.

The crossing was alive with people, a wave of bodies moving in unison with the crosswalks, lights flickering, and cars honking their horns impatiently. The only thing you were doing was walking, but you felt like you were being squished between bodies, shoved left and right with loud apologies from strangers.

You didn't blame them either, since the crossing was incredibly busy, with many more joining the throngs of people every minute. You walked until you reached the subway station, it was still alive with movement. It didn't help that Shibuya was the busiest city in Japan, and one of the busiest cities in the world. So it didn't surprise you when the underground station was packed with people, going to wherever they needed to go.

You slowly made your way through them, your mind still on finding Mahito. You wondered if this was a waste of your time. You crossed cities to be here, and still, nothing. With a long sigh you found a bench, and sat on it.

There was a person sitting on it already, a man, no younger than 40, who was ridiculously dressed as a scarecrow. Upon noticing your arrival he sat up. "Hey, girl. What's a pretty thing like you doing in a subway. Should be out modelling."

You felt like you had the urge to slaughter the man, though you kept your composure. Just the way he addressed you, pissed you off instantly, but you couldn't do anything.

The man sat up straight, his long legs spread, as he leaned forward, trying to make conversation with you. His eyes looked you up and down, making your skin crawl.

"Thank you." You curtly and politely replied, folding your hands in your lap.

The man smiled, his lips curling back, revealing a set of yellowing teeth that was stained with god knows what. The man continued to speak, his eyes trailing down your body. "I mean it. You're so pretty. You ever modeled?"

You felt your yukata tug, the pale fabric now between his slender fingers rolling the material. You clicked your tongue, pulling it out from his grip. "No, I haven't."

For a split second, the man frowned, as if he were thrown off that you had snatched it away, though quickly a smile was formed. "Awh, c'mon. Don't you think your body is good enough for modeling? I mean, you've got a pretty face, no doubt. I know there are magazines that take pretty girls like you."

The man licked his lips, as if he were about to say something dirty after. The man continued, moving closer to your body.

"You just gotta, show them what they wanna see, y'know? It'll be easy. I mean, with a body like that, you won't have trouble getting hired."

His hand moved up your thigh, and it took every ounce of you not to snap his arm like a twig. The mans fingers trailed up your thigh, inching closer to the edge of your skirt, before you slapped his hand away, the sound resounding in the near quiet station.

The man looked shocked, seemingly taken off guard. He stared at his hand blankly, as if he didn't expect you to be the type to slap him. His eyes flicked to you, narrowing slightly, though his facade of a smile quickly was placed back on to mask his annoyance. The man quickly shook his head, and forced a chuckle.

"C'mon. I ain't got no bad intentions, girl. I was just trying to give you some advice. I was just trying to say that—.” His fingers trailed up your thigh once again, his fingers crawling like spiders, the tips of his nails digging in your skin hard, to the point it was uncomfortable.

Your hand flew out to his, your fingers gripping it, his skin fizzled and sizzled as you allowed for your curse technique to work. "I'd advise you to keep your hands to yourself from how."

The man let out a sharp cry of pain, his fingers trembling in your grip as he began to sweat profusely. If it wasn't for all the people around, he probably would've cursed you out, but instead he just stared at your hand in disbelief, feeling his skin melted under your hands.

With a sigh, you let go of his hand, before folding your hands back into your lap. The man ripped his hand back, gasping to see that there was no physical damage to his skin, in fact it looked the same, but he felt a searing burn to it. He didn't believe what he was seeing, or what he was feeling, but he got the message clear loud and clear.

The man quickly got up, muttering to himself under his breath, as he walked away, throwing side glances at you every so often as he left.

"My, that was impressive." A soft, male voice said from behind you. The voice was light and sweet, but had a sarcastic undertone to it. Upon hearing it, you felt a shiver up your back, even though it was a relatively cool night. When you looked behind you, someone was slowly approaching you, their hands in their pockets.

You noticed his hair before anything else, it was a pale mint colour, then was his raggedy outfit, then his stitches, and at last, his silver, blind eye. "So you're Mahito?" You asked, looking up at the man.

The man titled his head to the side, the corners of his lips curling upwards into a smile as if he were impressed. His hands were still in his pockets, as he slowly strutted over to you. His eyes scanned you from the top of your head to your feet as he stood in front of you, his smile only getting wider.

"In the flesh."

You hum. "So, where are the other curses and the sorcerers?"

Mahito grinned, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. He shook his head, as if he were about to tell you what he did was some funny inside joke, though quickly he cleared his throat and shook off the smile.

"Oh, you know." Mahito took a few steps forward till he was standing beside you, his eyes flicking to yours momentarily before looking over the people around the station. "Busy, fighting one another. It's such a hassle, don't you think? I mean, I'm just so strong that there aren't any sorcerers fighting me! Though that Gojo guy is definitely trying to find me."

You had heard of him, Gojo Satoru, his name brought dread to curses.

Mahito shrugged. "Wonder why the others haven't tried to find me, maybe they're dead," he grinned. "I did cast a veil, but oh well—."

Just as Mahito finished speaking, an object whizzed past your head, barely missing it, before it dug into the wall— a nail. "Shit, I missed. Megumi, a little help over here?" A girl yelled, before preparing to hit another nail over.

"Spoke too soon, there's they are! Precious sorcerers." Mahito sighed, not looking over to where the nail had been thrown. Mahito groaned audibly, shaking his head as if he were a disappointed teacher, which in a way, he was.

He clicked his tongue in fake annoyance, leaning close to your ear to murmur under his breath, to make sure the sorcerer didn't hear him.

"Such a buzzkill." He slid off, before taking on a full blown sprint, away from the sorcerers and disappearing into the crowds, his touch turning the people nearby into ugly things, skin melting into hideous rolls.

The two were stunned to see the people around them melt into disgusting masses of flesh, screams, cries, and panic was thrown around by the crowds of people. The sorcerers just stood in horror, watching people's skin peel off and deform.

Mahito was having the time of his life, grinning ear to ear, and giggling as he ran through the crowds of people.

Sorcerers who you hadn't seen before went after Mahito, leaving you with the girl, and boy who you assumed was 'Megumi’z

Something sharp and cold hit and dug into your neck, like a pin prick. You reached a hand around and pulled the object out of your neck—it was another nail, then it combusted, fazing right through you.

You turned your head to face the girl with a glare at the fact you had been interrupted again, and you held the nail in your hand, examining it.

They had to be the ones who tried and failed to catch Mahito, and they had tried to kill you too even though it didn't work. Megumi watched, though his lips were still in a straight line.

The girl clenched her jaw, her lips slightly parted, as if she were confused how you weren't dead.

"What? It didn't even do damage..." the girl mumbled.

Megumi growled in anger, "Shit, where's Nanami?" Megumi clicked his tongue, his fists shaking as he let his hand hang by his side. He began to turn his head, searching through the people who were running, trying to find the person he had mentioned.

The girl looked just as frustrated, her fists clenched as her nails dug into her palms. She let out a loud huff, her lips curling down into a frown. The girl raised her hammer, and hit more nails at you, and even though they did little to no damage, you still pranced around avoiding them.

"Finally, someone who can have a little fun!" You cheer, stepping out from the bench.

The girl was definitely frustrated now, even more than she had been before. The fact you were doing something the exact opposite of what she wanted pissed her off. The girl let out a scoff, looking over to Megumi.

Megumi sighed under his breath, his jaw clenched, and his eyes flicked between you and his partner. His fists clenched at his side, his nails digging into his palms. He seemed to be doing his best to keep his patience.

You planted your foot on the ground before speeding off to the two. The duo quickly got into a defensive position, their eyes not leaving you. Megumi moved to stand in front of the girl.

The girl moved her hammer, ready to hit you as you approached. You struck out a hand, letting it glow red before a jet of manipulated acid shot out, forming a shape of a spear before plummeting it to the two.

Megumi grabbed the girls wrist and tugged her aside, using his free hand to block the acid with a burst of water, a burst of smoke filled in the space around the area.

The girl grunted, staring at you through the clearing smoke. She looked frustrated. Megumi had a cool and calmer look on his face, the only thing showing any kind of feeling being the sweat dripping down the side of his cheek.

The other people, though terrified, were in your way. The people who were in the way began to notice and move, though most were having trouble getting themselves out of the way in time.

Those who did move ran to safety, most of the people in the station were scattering away. Leaving a rather large open space in between the group of fighters, and the still panicked citizens.

The only downside was the large number of civilians being in the crossfire of this fight.

You let add a noise of annoyance, before putting your thumbs together, hands open, mumbling your curse technique. Thick waves of acid out, the pearly liquid engulfing the civilians, devouring their bodies until they were nothing.

The duo couldn't believe what they were seeing. Megumi stared at the puddle of sludge that the people's bodies had become, his lips in a straight line from shock. The girl looked shocked, but not as much as Megumi, her eyes darted from you to the civilians you had slain with the wave of acid.

Megumi clasped his hands together, yelling, "Demon dogs!" before a large wolf like a dog, both white and black in colour jumped out from behind him, barrelling towards you.

Megumi was quick with whatever he was doing, as the large wolf quickly sprung into action and charged forward, running at you. It didn't seem like it slowed down even when it had to leap over a pile of acid.

The dog was fast, and was on you in seconds, not allowing you much time to react. You sent another wave of acid towards the dog. The dog tried to dodge and weave through the acid, though it had no success. The large dog was hit, its legs melting under the acid, as it's body was reduced to a pile of goo.

The girl stared down at the puddle of dog with a shocked expression, not sure how you'd managed to melt a shikigami with such ease.

"Bye, bye!" You exclaimed, before raising a fist, forming a thought acidic bubble around you before it collapsed, having you nowhere to be seen. Megumi let out a curse under his breath as you were gone, not sure where you had gone after that show of power.

The girl gritted her teeth with her lips in a flat line, looking around frantically to see if she could identify your next move.

Somewhere else in Shibuya, on the side of a building, did you emerge from an acidic rip. You had the vantage point, and the view of Shibuya at night, with everything lit up and the people scrambling around in chaos, was beautiful.

The sky, however was unusually pitch black, a veil. Where you stood, there was already chaos, you could tell by the damaged buildings and property. There were cracks and holes in the roads, with a lot of buildings being half broken. The veil above was dark, not a sign of light other than the stars peeking around it.

You strolled down the streets, distantly hearing noise. The noise was quiet, sounding like murmurs and cries, until the faint sound of fighting reached your ears. The sound was definitely getting closer, and the longer you walked, the clearer it got. There was fighting going on somewhere near.

You rounded a corner, and the fighting seemed to be getting closer. If you continued walking, you would be approaching the fight.

The further you walked, the stronger the stench of blood and death got. The more you walked, the more the buildings melted into a heap of nothingness. It seemed it was either you climb the mess, or turn around, so naturally, you began to climb.

It felt like this area was completely destroyed, with nothing but rubble for miles.

You began to climb the debris, using your cursed technique as an extra grip for your feet. The only issue was the fact it was difficult to climb, with the pieces of building falling, or giving no grip. The noise of chaos got louder on the other side, now you reached the peak, looking down at a large number of people fighting two, and upon squinting, you recognised one.

Your cursed technique bubble under your feet, burning away a smooth path for you as you climbed down, heading straight for the white and partly red haired woman. "Uraume? Is that you?"

Uraume was currently occupied with fighting off two students, who were trying their best to fight back. When Uraume heard your voice, her head turned around, eyes wide, then a smile tugged at her lips. She spoke up, though she didn't look away from the students. "Is that you, my Lady?"

"Yes, what a pleasant surprise," you replied, small smile gracing your face as though you didn't walk straight through a fight. You looked over to the other curse user, his long, raven hair flowing in the wind as he sent shikigami after shikigami to the six other sorcerers. "Need any help?"

Uraume let out a small laugh, her lips curling upward in a small smile as she looked you up and down. She seemed to be quite happy to hear your voice, and in her time of need. At your question, Uraume shook her head, a confident look placed on her face. "I can handle these students."

You just hummed. "Alright, I'll go see what's happening over there."

Uraume nodded, keeping her focus on her own opponents before you had moved off. The chaos down below was overwhelming, with the sounds of explosions, fighting and cursing echoed.

For this man, you didn't ask if you needed help, instead shooting a web of acid, the liquid solidifying as it shot through the air, wrapping around two students who were fighting side by side—an overly large panda, and a boy who's eyes were shut closed, odd.

You ran over, narrowly avoiding getting sucked into a dark abyss caused by none other than the other curse user as slimes, ugly shikigami's shot out and attacked the other students. Your next target was a girl with blue hair.

She had a long sword in her hand, swinging it boldly when she heard you bearing towards her. "Two can play at that game, girl." You chuckled, forming an acidic sword.

The girl watched you for a while before taking notice of your appearance. She kept her composure, though a nervous feeling bubbled up in her stomach. The girl was a little hesitant, but readied her blade anyway, her eyes narrowed at you.

Your sword blade clinked against hers. The girl grit her teeth slightly, her blade clashing against yours. She wasn't exactly a great sword fighter, though she held her composure as she glared at you.

The force of her swing was quite powerful. She seemed to take you seriously, not underestimating like other people may have. Her foot stepped forward, trying to shove you away, before shoving her sword in an upwards motion.

Your sword went flying, dissolving into a puddle which burned a hole in the ground. You clicked your tongue. "I've gotten weak." You murmured, allowing for her sword to fade through you, the metal melting from the acid you covered yourself with.

The girl cursed under her breath, quickly pulling her sword back and taking a few steps away. The girl stared in disbelief, but shook off the feeling. She had never seen anything like that, that was for sure.

You let the acidic barrier drop, spinning to face the girl. "Acid, is acid." You muttered, striking out a hand to touch the girl. She lets out a noise of surprise, her stomach feeling sore.

You were going to manipulate her stomach acid, let it harden and turn to sharps, piercing her, before you felt an inkling to raise your acidic barrier up, right before something that resembled a blood spike shot right through you. Obviously, you felt nothing, but couldn't help look at the perpetrator.

A man, with a tattooed nose, and pinned up hair stood, palms pressed against each other, shooting out a long, red beam. He seemed to be a curse user as well, though he was attacking you. Had he turned on curse users's beliefs?

The man grunted, shaking his head, as he kept his palms pressed against one another to keep firing his blood technique at you. He was focused, eyebrows furrowed, as his lips pulled back into a grimace, making him look even more intimidating.

"Hm, I pity you," you said, forming an acidic bubble around you, teleporting you to roght behind the man. "You're still weak, even for a special grade." You reached a hand out, quickly latching it onto him before changing the form and matter of his stomach acid.

The man cursed, his breath hitching as he tried to fight back. He wasn't ready at all to face the feeling of something being messed with his stomach, his insides felt like it was in fire. The man gasped, groaning, as he stared at you, with his eyes wide in horror. He didn't feel himself melt, but he could feel something horrible happening inside of him.

"Let's see, do you think you're going to heaven or hell?" You asked, flexing your fingers, making his stomach acid harden and grow sharp.

The man's face contorted in pain, his knees buckling as he fell forward to the ground. The man couldn't even try to answer you, the pain of manipulation of his cursed energy was a feeling no other curse or sorcerer could experience.

His head smacked against the ground, as his body jolted, as if he were seizing. You let it turn into a spear head, gradually growing and piercing his organs until the tip made a dent in his skin. The man stared at his chest, his eyes watering as more tears began to drop from his eyes. His vision blurred, and he couldn’t the difference between his tears or blood or the veil or even his manipulation.

He stared at the dent in his chest before raising his eyes to meet yours, as he wheezed, the tips of his fingers trembling. The man let out a small, pained laugh, wheezing through the pain, before a small smile tugged at his lips. Through the pain in his stomach, he had no idea why, but he found you incredibly impressive.

Though you found him boring, this wasn't fun, you thought. So instead you removed your hand, leaving the man hurt, but not dead, not yet anyway, and decided to target someone else. Your eyes landed on two poeple fighting side by side, a girl with glasses and forest green hair, twirling a large sword and fighting off shikigamis, and a boy, who's hair was a blush pink.

The duo was fighting a horde of shikigamis, and seemed to be doing it with ease. The girl swung the sword around with a rather graceful finesse. While the man's fists were balled, throwing punch after punch, and using his hands to grab and flick aside or break the shikigamis when they came too close.

Both seemed to be doing great, not noticing you at all in the midst of the battlefield, which was to your advantage. Uraume's offer was perfect, as well as very convenient. With all the chaos it was unlikely to get the chance again.

You found yourself grinning, as you looked over to Uraume, giving a small nod. You formed acid under your feet, using it to slide to the girl before shooting a tentacle of acid to her sword, melting the metal.

The girl gasped, jumping back as the tentacles of acid shot out, melting her sword. She didn't see that coming, looking down at her now melted sword in disbelief, as she stared at where you suddenly were now standing.

She clenched her fists, but remained calm as she stepped into a defensive position, even if she was without a weapon for now. The girl wasn't about to give up this fight, despite the odds being against her.

The boy noticed, his eyes flicking from Uraume to you, his eyes widening at the scene. The boy let out an annoyed groan, punching more shikigamis to a pulp with ease in frustration. His fists were red, bruised and bleeding, but that seemed to drive him to hit harder.

Uraume was shooting ice daggers at the boy. The boy had managed to block out the first few, but the last few hit his arms. He winced at each hit, his skin getting slightly cut, just nothing major.

The boy grit his teeth in frustration, letting out a loud huff as he focused his gaze on Uraume, his own eyes narrowing further. The girl had no time to react to the sudden tentacle of acid, and it came crashing down on her.

She felt the warm, hot liquid on her skin and let out a sharp cry of pain, her skin sizzling as it burnt. She tried to jump out of the way, but her movements were stiff. The acid kept raining down, burning a hole in the ground.

The girl's skin turned red at first, then it quickly melted, the acid having melted through her clothes, and eating at her skin, the liquid burning into her flesh and muscle as the girl let out a painful cry.

She was still alive, somehow, coughing and wheezing, as she tried desperately to keep herself together. The boy clenched his fists, clenching his teeth together as he watched, his eyes wide. He wanted to jump in, but soon felt ice envelope him, now having him stationary in the cold, frozen cube.

The boy tried to fight the ice, his limbs trembling from the cold seeping into his bloodstream, but it was futile. He felt his legs, arms and fingers turning numb as he let out painful grunts, his breath turning visible.

The other curse user with the flowing black hair grumbled under his breath, before changing out another shikigami, a shimmering dragon, before it picked him up and took him elsewhere.

Uraume scoffed, wiping her cold lips before turning to you. "You did very well, My Lady." You heard Uraume, letting a small smirk tug at your lips. You had killed with ease, without even really getting hurt. It was satisfying to say the least.

You had to admit, the fight was fun too, as well as seeing the other curse users get frustrated. "Thank you, Uraume, you did good as well."

However, what you two failed to notice was on each side of the cheeks of the pinkette boy, two slits opened, revealing a pair of red eyes, both staring at you.

Something strummed in the boy's chest, something intense, a voice boomed and roared in his head, demanding to be free. The boy's eyes opened wide, staring directly at you. The more he looked at you, the more he felt something, an odd, intense feeling bubble up in his chest.

The veins in his arms and on his neck could be seen, as he began to tremble from the intense feeling in his chest.

The voice growled, before mumbling "enchain", spontaneously switching forms. The boy gasped as his form changed, large scars appearing over his body as well as his hair and eyes. His teeth grew into sharp canines, and his nails turned black, almost like claws. He let out an inhuman growl, his chest heaving as he seemed to get even taller and muscular.

The ice block melted instantly, revealing the monster of a man you loved, though not in true form, but still as equally terrifying. His huffs turned to laughs, then a malicious chuckle that boomed, causing your attention to turn, a small gasp leaving your lips.

No, it can't be.

Your Ryomen had been killed and chopped up.

Uraume instantly dropped to her knees, bowing at the king. "Master Sukuna, I'm sorry." She murmured.

Sukuna's chuckles died down. "You're forgiven." He muttered, brushing her off, before his scarlet eyes were on you again. It was almost easy to miss the way his eyes widened, or his jaw lax, or the way his frown shallowed.

Sukuna's eyes fell on you, his gaze was heavy as he stared at you. Sukuna wasn't a soft man, he was rough and he was cruel, but even he could feel something well in his chest as he stared. He hadn't seen you in so long. He felt something, a warm, heavy, intense feeling in his chest that he couldn't put his finger on. What was he feeling?

You blinked. "Ryo...?" You whispered, bringing your fingers to your lips.

Sukuna's breath hitched in his throat as he heard you call his name. He had missed you. He was in shock, his lips parting as he just watched your every move. He couldn't really process seeing you again after so long. He felt his lips slightly quiver in surprise, a thousand more emotions welling up in his chest as he tried to form words. Sukuna took slow steps towards you, as he was just taking in your appearance now.

He was trying so hard not to let his feelings get the better of him, though that was hard as he came to stop a few feet away from you. Sukuna had millions of unspoken words that filled his head, he kept staring at you quietly.

Something surged within you, causing you to bounce over to him and throwing your arms around his still large frame, laughter bubbling from you. "It's you! It's you! It's you!"

Sukuna felt his breath hitch in his breath as you threw yourself onto him, your arms around him in a tight embrace. He wrapped his arms around you instinctively, his breath hitching again as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

The others who were trapped in ice could only watch in horror, they didn't know what was more terrifying; the King of Curses, or the King of Curses being nice.

Sukuna could just barely feel his hands trembling against the fabric of your clothes. He was trying to hide it, but he couldn't hide the fact that he was shaking from the adrenaline and emotions in his chest.

You couldn't fend off the tears that pebbled at your eyelashes as you leant back to look at your lover. "I missed you so, so, so much, Ryo."

Sukuna's whole demeanor felt soft and tender as you looked at him. He was vulnerable, though he tried his hardest to conceal it. He had missed you too, he missed you so much that it had hurt these few months apart.

He gently held your chin, his thumb wiping a stray tear from the corner of your eye as he couldn't stop looking at you. He was still in disbelief you were here, in front of him. Sukuna quickly pulled you back to him, his fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes as he held you closely, not wanting to let you go. Sukuna held you against him, his grip tightening as he gently nuzzled his face into your neck. He couldn't believe you were here in his arms again, after so much time he spent wondering if he would ever see you again.

"I missed you too brat, so much." He muttered against your skin, his breath warm against your neck. His large hands roamed up and down your back, his hands trailing up to gently place his hand on the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.

Sukuna had missed so much in these few centuries. He had missed holding you like this even though he didn't do it often with you, he missed the small moments spent together when you were alone, he missed your sweet smile and laugh, everything.

The King of Curses was weak at the moment, he had been through much, but seeing you like this made him feel almost whole again.

You untangled yourself from him. "How are you even alive? I thought..."

Sukuna looked down at you, he had missed your small form. He had missed looking down at you, the corners of his lips tugged up as he heard your question. He gently held you at arms length, his large hands still on your shoulders.

"It's a long story," he sighed. He gently tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear, his fingertips brushing your cheek in the process before his hand moved to the nape of your neck.

Sukuna could feel his emotions swelling again. He wanted to hold you in his hold again, or kiss you. So many things he had missed, he was like a starved man who was just offered a meal. His thumb gently ran over your cheek as he kept his scarlet eyes on your form, just taking you in again after all this time.

"All these foolish sorcerers, they're in my way," Sukuna murmured, a finger tapping his chin. "All the better." He shrugged, before bringing his fingers together and chanting out his domain expansion. You and Sukuna were sucked into the domain, rendering you two alone.

Uraume managed to escape the inky globe that was now hovering in Shibuya.

Your shoes were submerged in the same waters of Sukuna's domain, just below the hill of skulls.

He was say on his thrown at the very top of the hill of bones. Sukuna let out a soft chuckle as his domain swallowed the area, the two of you ending up alone together. He was in the same domain again, his territory of skulls and a lake of blood.

Sukuna sat on his throne, looking down at you with a small smirk on his lips He beckoned for you, his gaze fixated on you. The only thing he wanted right now was this, you. "Come here, brat." Sukuna was a man of few words, especially in private. But he wanted, needed you by his side for now. The only thing he wanted to do was see you, touch you... and possibly take you back to the palace with him.

He wanted this, he needed this.

You began your ascent to him, stepping on mandibles and maxilla's, eagerly wading to your lover. Sukuna's eyes remained on you, watching your every step upwards towards him. He held his hands together, waiting for you to approach the throne. He couldn't hide his smile as his lips tugged back, seeing you walk towards him. It felt like a dream to him, that after months you were finally approaching him again. It felt like forever.

When you reached the top, Sukuna wasted no time to pull you by your yukata, sending you crashing onto his lap. His head was instantly back to your neck. You helped when you felt his tongue dart out, then his teeth. "Ryo, what the hell?"

Sukuna let out a small chuckle as you complained, but he only placed his lips against the crook of your neck, a small huff leaving him. "I just want to remind myself how you taste. You have no idea how much I missed you, brat. You're going to get me addicted again." Sukuna's voice was almost a growl.

You brought a hand to his hair and gently pulled back, wanting to see his face. "What's got you so eager?"

Sukuna let out an almost growl, glowering at you. "All these centuries, I haven't seen you. Why wait for more time to pass? I'm only getting older." He latched a hand to your neck before sliding it up, to your jaw, where he turned and struck out his forefinger, shoving it past your lips.

Sukuna's fingers threaded through your hair gently, allowing you to move his head back. Sukuna had missed your gentle touch, his eyes narrowing at your question. He wanted to keep you close, never wanting you out of his sight ever again.

Being in his domain expansion, having you in his hold so he could just touch you, see you right in front of him, was heavenly for the King of Curses. It had been months and he had missed you more than he had imagined he would.

His finger gently ran across the inside of your mouth, his scarlet eyes boring into you. He felt that intense, warm feeling in his chest again, his fingers trembling gently against your jaw.

Sukuna slithered his finger deeper into your mouth, nail scratching your throat. "I've wrecked homes, torn villages to shreds. Gutted morons and pests, yet none give me the thrill of seeing you at my mercy." He purred, bringing his free hand to the folds of your dress, and tugging at the seams.

Sukuna ran his eyes over your form, taking you in. He pressed his finger against the back of your throat, his nail scratching it while his other hand tugged at the seams of your clothes, trying to get the fabric to move more so he could see more of your waist.

Sukuna's eyes flicked down to your cleavage, feeling his breath hitch as he huffed. He wanted your damn clothes gone, just seeing it only irritated him more.

He had missed feeling you in his hold. He missed you against his chest, his large hands roaming over your body. Sukuna wanted to mark you. He wanted to leave marks all over you, making every other sorcerer know that you belonged to him and him alone.

He wanted to ruin you.

Sukuna grunted, your dress not coming off, so he would use the one thing he thought of. You whimpered as you felt flames kiss your skin, before your yukata was in ashes, presenting you almost bare, bar your underwear. Sukuna let out a pleased grunt as he watched your dress disintegrate into ash. He wanted to see more, and you in next to nothing was amazing.

He took a minute to admire your half-naked form, running his fingers along your skin, taking advantage of the skin-to-skin contact he had missed for months with a hum.

You choked on his finger, squirming in his lap. It was unfair how he was fully clothed, you thought. Sukuna could smell your arousal, could sense it, but he was fine with it. He'd get to that in due time. He wasn't going to move fast.

As you squirmed in his lap, his hand moved to your thighs, his fingers digging his nails into the skin there to hold you still, his thumb tracing small circles on your inner thighs. Sukuna's own clothing felt constricting. He wanted you. He wanted you here and now, to feel you against him, for you to belong with him.

His grip on your inner thighs tightened, as his lips pressed against your collarbone, kissing it and sucking harshly. Sukuna wanted to leave his mark on your skin, to claim you as his own.

You reached your hands to between the two of you, digging them under the cream coloured fabric of his kimono, trying to pull it free. Slowly, the fabric peeled back to reveal his rippling, inked muscles. It wasn't enough, eagerly you tugged further down the kimono, pulling at the cloth around Sukuna's waist until he too was bare; rock hard and leaking, achingly thick and blissfully long.

You blinked up at him, giving him your best pleading expression, even with his finger far in your mouth, just needing to be filled by him.

Sukuna saw how you looked up at him, seeing your expression. What a sight it was as he kept his own large finger moving inside your mouth. He wanted you, so badly, he wanted to completely take you.

Sukana removed his finger from your mouth, a trail of saliva connecting from it to your lips. His large hands fell on your waist, lifting you a bit. Noticing how you immediately reacted to that, his lips pulled into a smirk as he watched your expression

"Please, Ryo? Need you to be inside me." You begged, fruitlessly jutting your hips, earning faint pleasure between your legs, though it would never suffice.

Sukuna felt himself twitch in anticipation as your words, a low growl escaping his throat. That's what he had missed the most, hearing you like that, hearing you beg for his touch. He grabbed your hips, pinning them down.

He wanted to break you, make you forget anything apart from him, but he wasn't going to move fast. He took his time, he wanted to take you slow, make it last long and just relish the feeling of you being back in his arms. "Are you so impatient for me, brat?" He cooed

Sukuna gently traced his fingertips along the lace fabric of your underwear, his eyes looking up to meet yours. A smirk tugged at his lips as he ran his fingertips over you, teasing you.

"Yes. Just, please? I need this as much as you do." You whined, shooting a hand to your underwear and shoving it to the side, now presenting your dripping cunt.

Sukana let out a low, pleased growl. He loved how you were so eager for him, it was satisfying. He watched you impatiently as you pleaded, his smirk still on his lips. "So eager for me, huh?" Sukana taunted, knowing the answer as his fingers traced small shapes against your inner thighs, his nails scratching the skin. "You think you can take me? It's only one cock, yet you still struggle. Maybe I need to stretch that pussy." Sukuna huffed, bringing two, thick digits to your hole.

So in a blink of an eye, he plunged his fingers inside, not giving you any prep before hand. You let out a loud moan, it echoed through the domain, fingers curling around the fabric on Sukuna's shoulders. "Oh, my god!" Sukuna began to piston his fingers, scissoring the two as he thrusted them into your pulsating hole.

Sukana let out a small groan, just how he remembered, you weren't quiet even a little. Not that he minded, he loved it.

He groaned, his eyes fixated on you as he watched your expression. All the noises you made filled his head, he wanted to listen to you, all night. He wanted to break you, claim you, and make you his again. He curled his fingers, hitting that one spot inside you, that had your toes curl and your mind fog up.

Sukuna's eyes flicked up at your reaction, a pleased, low chuckle escaped his lips as he curled his fingers. He knew that spot, knew it well. After all, it's not like this was his first time doing this to you.

He wanted to hear you beg for more, he loved it. He pressed his fingers against it again, enjoying the way your chest heaved, making more noises for him as the two of you sat on the throne. Sukuna smirked at the faces you made, bringing a hand to your breasts, second mouth forming on his palm, before his lips wrapped around your sensitive nub.

Your sensitive body seemed to react so quickly to Sukana's every move, and he loved everything about it. This was his kingdom, and you were currently his queen, in front of him, in his lap, and all his. Not to mention the small moans he heard leaving you, the way your nails dug into his skin, driving him nearly insane over you.

Sukana's lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple, his cursed energy wrapping around you as his tongue moved in soft, but precise circles over it. He was working you well, making you whine and moan for him in the quiet domain, filling the silence with your sounds of pleasure, a chorus to his ears as it bounced off the walls of his domain. The small moans and noises you made were music to his ears. Sukana wanted you to feel good, to feel him take over you, and the way you arched into his lips showed he was doing just

"P-Please, Ryo? Can't wait anymore, need to feel you..."

Sukana almost smirked, almost. Hearing you beg him, call his name like that. It drove him insane, and he needed to give in. He moved, picking you up, and moving you out of his lap so he could stand, pinning you against the throne.

He stood before you, holding you against the throne as he looked down at you, his hands on your waist. "Fine, brat. I'll give you what you want," Sukuna clicked his tongue, moving his hips until his throbbing, red tip was aligned with your entrance. "But don't say it's too much."

In one, fluid movement, he thrusted himself in. His cock stretched your cunt beyond its limits, and what was scary is this wasn't the biggest he could be.

He grunted softly, his eyes falling close for a brief moment as he savored the feeling of you around him. He loved this. He loved the feeling of you, the way you felt around him, the way you were his. Sukana held your waist, his fingers pressed into your skin there as he looked you over. He couldn't believe he had you back, like this too.

Sukuna was merciless. Pounding away into you like there was no tomorrow, causing the throne to shift on the bones and skulls. All you could do was take the bullying between your legs, screaming his name, nails clawing at his shoulders. "Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Love your cock, so much, my lord!"

His title that fell from your lips sent a shiver through him. If anyone knew you had him wrapped around your finger, he'd be a dead man. He huffed and grunted into your ear, breath hot on your skin. "Such a filthy mouth you have, my lady."

You whined, staring up at your lover with teary eyes, mouth agape and blabbering sweet nothings.

Sukuna loved seeing you be so submissive, to him, calling him your lord, your king. He would only let that slide with you. His lips met your neck, kissing and biting at the skin there, leaving marks behind.

The way you felt around him was addicting, and having you beg for him made it better. He had missed this feeling, this pleasure, with you for so long he wanted to savor it. Sukana wanted this to last as much as he could, to make you feel good, and to take you here in his domain.

Sukana's lips traveled up from your neck, to your lips, as he pressed his own against yours in a searing kiss, he moved his tongue over your lips, licking them. He wanted to taste you in every sense he could.

Sukana swallowed all the noises you were making, each noise of yours just added to his enjoyment. He wanted more, more of you. Sukana let his tongue slip into your mouth, exploring and tasting you completely.

The bones of his throne dug into your shoulders, and the buck horns of it dug into your shin. It only added to the pleasure, your nails scratching at his skin, everything did. Sukana wanted to feel it all, the way you felt and sounded as he took you.

Sukana grunted into your mouth, his tongue pressing against yours, his hands now moving to your thighs, and he lifted you up from the throne, using it for leverage, as his hands moved just enough to grip you thighs so he could start moving you again.

He wanted to feel every bit of you, and he didn't want to let you go. He couldn't, so he pushed more, wanting it all. Sukana wanted you to be his in every sense of the word, and now was not the exception. He wanted you to be his, his queen, his lover, his.

He wanted you to call his name, to moan it, scream it, anything. He wanted to ruin you, break you, and claim you as his and his. He wanted to claim and break you all, make you forget anything other than him, anything else.

The moans that left your lips sounded so sweet to him, even sweeter than honey. This was what he had missed, the pleasure the two of you shared, and the feeling of the two of you melting into each other. Sukana wanted to break you, ruin you, make you his for the next days, weeks, months, or years. Sukana was making you feel so good your mind turned to a mess.

You felt everything as he took you. How he moved you, the throne digging into your back, his large hands on your body, making you feel the heat coming off of him. Sukana's lips on yours as he claimed your mouth, his tongue pushing into your mouth, his grunts of pleasure right against you.

Your mind turned to a mess every time Sukana moved, and every moment. It was almost hard to form words with him, but he was perfect.

Sukuna loved the way you moved with him, how you tried to take him as he moved, how you tried to make him feel good too in return. Sukana groaned into your mouth at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin. He loved every second of it, enjoying taking you, breaking you for him.

The feeling of the coil in your tummy tightening was driving him insane, it had been so long since he remembered those signs or saw them from you, but now he was so glad it was back like that.

His movements only got more intense, wanting to see you fall over the edge. Sukana could feel yourself start to tighten around him, the way you would squeeze him in response and it only made him push more. He was desperate for you, wanting to feel and watch you break as you reached your orgasm with him, coating his fat cock with your cum, crying out as you did, while he stuffed you full of his.

He groaned into your mouth, panting and grunting as he moved his lips to your neck again, suckling on the skin there. He wanted to mark you as his, so everyone would know who you belonged to, to him.

There was no one else you belonged to, that would make his blood boil. You belonged to him and nothing would change that.

Your body fell limp, breathing into Sukuna's mouth as you were well worn. Sukana held you up as you went limp, only holding you more. He wasn't done yet but he let you relax for the moment while he looked at you, his fingers gently roaming over your body for the moment, his chest heaving as he also tried to catch his breath.

He still loved to simply hold you and touch you however he could. His lips moved back to your neck, kissing and sucking the skin there, adding more marks from his lips, marks to show you were his.

"Ryo...do we have to go back?"

Sukana did not like the thought of having to go back. It was nice being in the domain just with you, being able to hold you and make you his. But he knew this wasn't permanent. Sukana moved his lips from your skin, bringing his fingers under your chin to tilt you to look up at him. “Yes, unfortunately I don’t have full control over this brat so sooner or later I’ll be turning back. But trust I’ll find away to be with you again.”

But that wouldn't always be an option, he knew he would have to go back eventually. For now he savored the moment of having you in his hold, being able to touch you and hold you against him.

And even if it was for a few minutes more, you had your Ryo back.