#my wild children from ages ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

livingemkayde · 9 months

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ch ii. wild things

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller

chapter two of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. kissing. mentions of sexual situations. bit of a love triangle forming. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake). no use of y/n!

a/n: wowza!! after careful consideration i am definitely making this into a series due to all the requests and comments in my inbox!! thanks for all the love on chaser and on my dbf!joel series which you can find all the parts to here. i love u all so much. i had a bit of an idea to write joel x reader mixed with one sided tommy x reader so this will evolve into that. who knows what will happen!! haha….

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

You watch his hands on the steering wheel. His thick fingers flicker on the settings for the radio, or tap on the top of the wheel when you stop at a red light. It’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating. But you already knew that. “You can’t be starin’ at me like that in the house.” You blush, snapping out of your dream-like haze.

For a split second, it does cross your mind to turn around and run away.

But you’re already here. Joel is looking at you, mouth agape — you’re sure you look the same, if not worse. The little girl standing next to Joel giggles at you, smiling.

Fuck.

“Hi,” you say, breathless. You aren’t sure if you’re talking to her or Joel.

But she squeaks a small hi, reaches for your hand, and pulls you into the house.

You look up at him as you pass, he sucks in a breath and for a haste second, his eyes glance down towards your chest. Your movements feel slowed as you pass him. Like a scene from a movie — not unlike the feeling you had when you first bumped into him. You look up at him, a worried look fretted on your brow as he closes the door behind you.

She drops your hand and sits on the couch, Joel sits next to her, you on a love chair across from them.

It's quiet.

Way too quiet for what’s supposed to be an interview.

Joel keeps sending fleeting glances at you like he’s scared of what will happen if he meets your eye for more than two seconds.

“So…You’re — uh —” he starts, but doesn’t really know how to finish.

“Yeah,” you say for him. He looks back at you, his mouth slightly agape. Joel shakes his head like he’s trying to snap himself out of it.

“This is Sarah. She’s seven,” he looks down towards her, she looks at you with big brown eyes. Not unlike the one’s attached to the man sitting on the couch beside her.

“Hi there,” you smile at her.

“Hi,” she says, her dangling feet swinging off the couch. “You’re really pretty,” she says, shy.

“Why thank you,” you say, acting flushed. “You’re gorgeous yourself.”

Sarah blushes. You look at Joel and he stares back. A couple beats of silence and your hands start sweating.

“Yeah, so I guess I’m your nine a.m,” you say with a breathy chuckle, talking to Joel now — referring to the interview appointment.

“Guess so,” he says, his southern drawl overtaking his voice. He looks at you with eyes that show a curious emotion. You wonder what he’s thinking. But most of all, you wonder how long this — now ridiculous — interview is gonna take before he tells you to leave.

So much for a good fuck buddy.

“I—” he shakes his head again. “Sorry, how old are you?”

“I’m twenty-three.”

You are almost certain he swears under his breath.

“Right,” he says when Sarah gives him a funny look. You had put that on your resume that you submitted a week ago.

“College grad, or somethin’,” he says, pulling in a sharp breath at the words — and the realization.

“Yeah — uh — english.”

“Do you like books?” Sarah cuts into the tension, but she’s oblivious to the heat rising off your cheeks.

“Love them,” you smile at her, looking around, seeing a children's book on the coffee table separating you.

Where the Wild Things Are

You smile to yourself.

“Do you like reading, Sarah?”

She nods with a grin.

“I would love to take you down to the library. They’ve got all the books you can imagine,” you say, smiling.

She giggles and looks up to her dad with pleading eyes.

You’re not sure why you’re trying so hard to get this kid to like you but after last night, you aren’t really sure about anything anymore.

You can hear Sarah mumble into Joel’s ear.

Please, dad? I like her. The lady from yesterday was old.

His eyes cut to yours, and back down to the little girl whispering in his ear. You look around the house nervously. The Carhartt jacket that you distinctly remember from last night is draped on a chair in the kitchen.

Joel clears his throat, and to everyone in the room’s surprise, extends his hand. He looks a bit scared, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified. But he utters those words in that drawl and you know you’re done for. Like all those hours before in the bar, then in the bathroom, and after that too when he slipped his name and number into your phone.

“You’re hired.”

You try to reason with yourself in the split second before you extend your hand to meet him.

Good pay. Sweet kid. Dad who you already fucked.

It might not be the worst thing — but it certainly doesn’t reign best in your mind. You take his hand after a beat. Your sweaty palm connects with his sturdy one. He gives you one shake and then drops your fingers. Sarah smiles up at you, you anxiously smile back. Joel gives you a gruff look that makes your pulse race.

“When can you start?” He asks after a few seconds.

“Tomorrow,” you say, maybe a bit too hastily, calming yourself down you reutter, “Tomorrow.”

“Alright, well… come ‘round eight. I gotta get to work tomorrow,” he stands, you follow him to the door, he mumbles to Sarah to play with some toys while you talk.

The cool morning air hits your face when he closes the door behind you. You stand face to face, shy eyes bending through the silence from both of you.

“I—” you stifle an awkward laugh, “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t have come if I’d known, obviously.”

“Right,” he agrees, looking down at his feet.

“We can…this can be —” another awkward laugh, “like this okay? Right?”

“Right,” Joel echoes while sending you a curt nod.

God, it's like pulling teeth.

“Look, I’m sorry — we can forget about it, if this is like —”

“No,” he shakes his head, looking up at you, his brown eyes reflecting sunlight. You didn’t remember his eyes looking like that. But it was dark and you were drunk.

“It’ll be fine…‘s’alright,” Joel assures, but you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna —”

“I’m sure,” he chuckles. You catch a glint of the guy from last night — who managed to charm his way into your pants in under ten minutes. He surprised you then, and doesn’t fail to surprise you now.

“Sarah likes you, so…” you raise your brows at his words, he continues.

“Been havin’ a tough time findin’ someone she likes, and I have t’work,” he breathes out through stiff lips.

“I understand.”

You find yourself asking more, even though it might not be the best idea. But like you thought last night — this guy is intriguing — and getting a glimpse into his life even if you both weren’t ready for it might not be the worst thing.

“What do you do?” you ask, shy.

“I — uh — I’m a contractor.”

You don’t really know much about contracting so you fall short with a reply.

But he fills the silence.

“I work with my brother. He’s… he lives not too far away. You’ll probably meet him tomorrow,” he says, arms crossing over his chest.

“Sounds good,” you say, crossing your own arms, your thin sweater not doing much to protect you from the morning dew.

Joel looks towards the street and furrows his brow.

“Where do you live?” he asks, blunt.

Your eyes widen in shock.

“Jesus — I —” he shakes his head, his fingers pinching his nose bridge. “I just — you don’t have a car, m’sorry,” he looks out towards the empty street.

“Just…wonderin’ if you needed a ride.”

And so, the gentleman from last night appears just when you thought this might be hopeless.

“Oh car’s back at the house — I walked — I actually live like four blocks over on Anderson,” you jut with your thumb in the direction of your childhood home — your parents are letting you stay there while they’re on vacation for the summer.

“Didn’t know we lived so close,” you note to no one in particular, just speaking aloud.

“You’re in between me ‘n Tommy,” he says, his voice hoarse.

Jesus.

“What?”

“My brother,”

This small talk is getting awkward.

“Oh…right, well — cool. All close together,” you say, pulling a smile even though you feel immensely uncomfortable right now.

“Yeah,” he echoes. “Cool.”

“So I’m gonna…” you nod your head to the direction of your house. It looks like that shakes him out of this trance of tension you both were put in together.

“Yeah, right.”

A goodbye is braced on your lips but you hesitate.

Mr. Miller?

Joel?

Maybe you were better off not calling him anything.

Especially since the last time you were saying the name ‘Joel’ he was asking you to beg for his cock.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you settle for, stepping off his porch, while looking back at him.

“Yup,” Joel replies, bluntly, “See you tomorrow.”

On your walk over the next morning, you settle into a quiet stroll.

It’s early, the birds are chirping and the dew from the young morning seeps into your skin, making your hair a bit damp and frizzy, but you don’t mind.

You didn’t have much time to look around when you were walking to your interview yesterday.

Honestly, you’ve never taken a good look at your neighborhood, especially this area. Your whole life you’d been driven around by your parents, never stopping to take in the scenery.

Austin is amazing in the summer. You don’t mind the heat, you welcome it — the sun feels good on your back when you walk over.

You see a black pick-up truck pull into Joel’s driveway as you round the corner and make your way down the street.

A man steps out, he’s young — younger than Joel — but you can see the resemblance. You suspect this is the ‘Tommy’ Joel had mentioned yesterday.

You break into a soft jog to greet him before he walks into the house.

“Hey,” you say, somewhat breathless. He stares back at you with a confused look on his face.

“I — uh — I’m Sarah’s new babysitter,” you say while extending your hand.

He takes it, the recognition of your title sinking in — a smile is brought to his face — it lights up the entire area.

“Oh — right. Joel said somethin’ ‘bout the babysitter coming this mornin’,” he shakes your hand, its soft grip squeezes yours once and then lets you go. “I’m Tommy, Sarah’s uncle.”

“Yes — Joel said you guys work together.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he says, chuckling. You smile back at him.

He looks down and sees your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Let me get that for you,” he says, reaching down to grab the strap of your bag and slipping it off your arm.

“Oh — thanks,” you try to hide your blush as you follow Tommy to the front door.

“No problem,” he mumbles, stepping onto the porch, in a light jog, you follow after.

The door opens before you reach it, a sleepy Joel miller peaks his head out at the noise.

When he sees it's you and Tommy, he straightens out a bit, a questioning look on his brows.

“What’s up man,” Tommy brushes past him into the house, you can see him set your bag down on the couch. “Found your new hire,” he teases from inside, already rushing to the kitchen before you’re able to cross the threshold.

You don’t want to squeeze past like Tommy, so you wait for Joel to invite you in.

“Good morning,” you smile up at him, he towers over you, leaning against the doorframe.

“Mornin’,” he replies.

“I just — ran into him outside the house,” you say shyly.

What are you trying to prove?

He smiles at you, maybe even matching the smile he had on at the bar. The smile you fell for instantly. A puddle at his feet — this time? No exception.

“Just come in,” he chuckles, walking away from the doorframe to let you in.

Sarah squeals from near the couches, running up to you and giving you a big hug. You chuckle while looking at the men in the kitchen.

“Hi.”

“Hey, kiddo,” you smile down at her.

“Can you take me to the library today?”

“Woah, woah slow your roll. I got a lot to show you before we hit the library,” her smile gets bigger if that’s possible. “I even have some special toys I brought just for you in my bag,” you whisper.

She laughs, hanging off your arm, and then trots into the kitchen. You follow her.

“So this is my number,” Joel says when you arrive, putting a piece of paper up on the fridge.

“Oh, I already—”

“Call ‘f you need anythin’.”

Your eyes snap to him when he cuts you off, giving you a knowing look. You blush in favor of arguing, understanding why.

This might be harder than you initially thought. Especially when you’re in his house, and everything smells like him — like that night. And his brother won’t stop looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

You catch Tommy in his staring, he quickly looks back down to his cereal.

“We’ll be back ‘round five,” Joel says, looking over at the calendar hanging on the wall.

“Tuesday, dad,” Sarah chimes in when he squints at the calendar.

“Right. Tuesday,” he sighs, his eyes briefly meeting yours across the kitchen. “Tuesday is Chinese. We’ll pick it up on the way home,” he says, nodding at the information.

“You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner,” Tommy cuts through the tension, smiling at you. Your eyes dart to Joel’s — he has an indifferent look on his face.

You’re not really sure what to say but the entire Miller family looks back at you with the same set of big brown eyes, a couple sets are pleading, one set is scared.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, thanks,” you smile back at Tommy. You hope things will be better by tonight because this is getting weird and you only have olives and a carton of eggs in the fridge back home.

“I’m gonna go load the truck,” Tommy mumbles, still chewing the rest of his breakfast while standing.

“It was very nice to meet you,” he smiles at you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “If you need anything you can always call me, left my number under Joel’s.”

You smile, but gruff words pull you away from Tommy.

“If you need anythin’, call me,” Joel says, emphasizing me.

You wonder if Tommy touched a nerve.

Tommy smiles with a teasing lilt, you thank him as he exits.

“Hang on a sec, Sarah, I’m gonna walk your dad out and then I’ll make you breakfast,” you say, following Joel out.

Tommy’s head is in the backseat of the truck, rummaging through things. You stand in front of Joel on the porch.

“Listen this is like…” you aren’t sure what you think this is, but it’s kinda unbearable.

“Yeah, I know,” he replies gruffly. “It’s — it’s done. Right? We can be professional.”

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice small. “Professional,” you laugh. His bright eyes mirror yours.

“Guess I should call you Mr. Miller, then.”

He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Don’t call me that,” he says, a chaste chuckle braced on his lips.

“Joel,” he whispers. “Just Joel.”

“Okay,” you smile back at him. You can’t help but feel the spark like the night at the bar, when his hands were all over you, and you couldn’t see anyone but him.

“Just Joel.”

He nods and steps down from the porch.

He waves goodbye with two lazy fingers lifting from the wheel as he backs out.

“She’s pretty.”

Tommy’s voice cuts through the tense silence in the truck. An old country song rings through the worn interior. The A/C is blasting, the sun beating down on them through the sunroof.

Joel grunts in response.

“You don’t think so?”

“Think she’s my kid’s babysitter,” Joel mutters while Tommy stifles a laugh. Joel turns down a street, heading towards the onramp for the interstate. They’re meeting with a new client today, big work on the line. Joel can’t be thinking of you.

“So you’re not into her?”

Joel takes a while to respond. Tommy shifts a bit nervously in his seat. But finally — finally — Joel lets out a long sigh and responds. The single word sent Tommy’s way, making him grin—

“Nope.”

“Alright,” Tommy says, content.

It rubs Joel the wrong way.

“‘Alright’ what?”

“I think I’m gonna ask her out.”

When Joel doesn’t respond, Tommy speaks again.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?”

“I don’t know. Known her two seconds” Joel bites back a bit too harshly.

A few tense seconds pass.

Tommy starts again but Joel cuts him off.

“Jesus, can we just —” Joel reaches down to turn the radio up. The music drowns out any conversation on the tip of his tongue — kills anything he might regret saying. He tries to let it go.

Tommy lets it go too.

“Sarah!” you shout from the kitchen.

You look down to the kitchen counter. The sandwich stares back at you. You slather one side with blackberry jam you picked up from the farmers market. The other side with some peanut butter. Crust off, Sarah had pleaded with you yesterday when you picked her up from soccer camp.

You move to cut the crust off.

The front door opens from behind you, you don’t bother turning around, knowing who it is before he greets you—

“Hey, baby,” Tommy rounds the corner and gives you a small hug. You hear the front door shut in his wake. You look down to your fingers, the peanut butter getting a bit messy from the heat in the kitchen.

“Hey,” you reply softly.

It's been a couple weeks since you started taking care of Sarah. You fell into the Miller’s daily routines with ease, eating dinner with them most nights. Tommy and you have grown close. He’s a friend, a confidant. Someone who you can count on no matter what.

He’s good conversation, but an even better listener. You find yourself talking to him most nights on the drive home, and even sometimes after that when you invite him in for coffee and a drink. You can talk about anything and he’ll listen, giving his two cents when necessary, becoming a better friend than you could’ve anticipated.

Anything he had said the first night you invited him in.

You can talk to me about anything.

You had smiled at him. You wanted to talk to him about anything. And you talked to him about most things — but never all.

Because there was always Joel.

“Sarah!” you shout again, checking the clock and seeing it was almost eight. “Get your bag kiddo, I gotta drop you off at soccer by 8:15.”

You hear her small voice let out a muffled coming as you finish packing up her lunch.

“Need a ride?” Tommy asks from behind you.

“I thought you and Joel had to meet with that electrician guy today,” you throw over your shoulder.

“I always got time for you,” he says in a teasing upswing. You just laugh in response, trying to brush it off.

You know Tommy is a flirt. You can see it when you go out with him, girls fawn at his feet because he’s charming. The woman bagging your groceries, the waitress at the diner, the neighborhood mom’s coming over to talk when he washes the truck outside Joel’s house.

You see it all — and you don’t mind when it spills over onto you. It’s just how he is.

“Brought my car today, thanks though,” you nod at him as you pass the kitchen table, putting Sarah’s lunch bag on the counter.

You hear footsteps rounding the corner, hoping it’s Sarah, but as you look up, Joel’s eyes catch yours.

“Dammit,” you mumble.

“G’mornin’ to you too,” Joel says back, sending you a look.

“No — sorry, just —” you brush him off, he joins Tommy at the table. “Sarah!”

“We’re gonna be late,” you mumble to him, he sips on his coffee.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Joel says from his seat, motioning to the truck.

Tommy’s brows raise, waiting for your response.

“Thanks but I brought my car today,” you brush him off.

“Surprised that thing still drives,” Joel grumbles under his breath.

“Shut up, will you?” you say, half teasing, sending him a playful scowl.

“It ain’t safe is all ‘m sayin’, you sh—” he cuts himself off at the look you give him.

Tommy whistles from across the table.

It might look okay. And it might feel okay too. But when you're alone at night and you can’t sleep — you think about Joel. The fleeting glances from the day. The way his hand touched yours when you guys cleaned up dinner.

It wasn’t torture — but it sure felt like something similar.

You don’t miss how Joel scowls a bit when Tommy flirts with you playfully. But things seem to be cordial between them — as cordial as brothers can be.

Sarah skips down the steps, her hair falling out of the pony tail she tried to put up herself.

“C’mere, kiddo, we gotta fix your hair,” you say when she reaches the bottom step, pointing to a chair beside her dad and uncle.

Sarah sits, you brush through her hair with a comb, securing it with an elastic. You can feel both men’s eyes on you.

“All set,” you pat her shoulders, she finishes breakfast, racing to put her shoes on as you grab your keys.

Tommy stands at your exit.

“I’ll walk you out,” he says, taking one last sip of his coffee before putting the dishes in the sink. He meets you in the foyer, you scramble to get your sandals on, Sarah slipping into her cleats as you bend down to tie her laces. Tommy grabs your keys and goes to start your car.

“Bye, Joel,” you yell from the entryway, something deep and gruff rings back from the kitchen.

When you open the door, the soft sunlight hits you. Sarah skips out towards Tommy, he picks her up, throws her up in the air, she laughs and giggles. He lets her settle into the backseat of your car. He opens the door for you, giving you a small hug as you check the time on your phone.

8:10 am.

“See you later, baby.”

“Bye Tommy,” you chuckle at his words, shaking your head as you climb into the driver’s seat.

Honestly, Joel is right.

You’re confused on how this car still drives. It was your mom’s from when she was in college. It sat in your garage, collecting dust until you pleaded with your parents to fix it up for you. Maybe it’s sentimental value or maybe you just can’t afford another car, but you’ve driven it ever since.

It’s never been a problem for you. Not until this moment when you found yourself on the side of the road, two blocks away from where you dropped off Sarah.

Your phone rings in your hand as you hold it up to your ear, leaning against the hood of the car while you look down at the very obviously flat tire.

“Tommy?” you bite quickly when he picks up.

What’s up?

“My tire’s fucked. I need a tow,” you grovel.

Oh shit. Uh — I can’t leave right now, the electrician needs me.

“Fuck,” you huff into the hot air. “Okay, I’ll call Triple A, thanks.”

You’re about to hang up, but a deep voice cuts through the line, Tommy answers it with a tone that you can’t read.

Joel’s comin’.

Your breath hitches.

Text him where you are.

You find yourself nodding even though he can’t see you.

“O-okay. Tell him I said thanks,”

He just left. Listen I gotta —

“Oh – no yeah, sorry. See you later. Thanks.”

Yeah. Bye.

You shoot Joel a quick text, your fingers shaking unexpectedly.

You only wait for about ten minutes before you see the black pick up roll around the corner. He pulls up in front of you, and backs up so the hitch is in line with your car.

Joel gets out, moving to hook everything up.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I—”

“Hey,” he looks at you, you stare back with wide eyes. You were half expecting him to be mad or annoyed. But you forgot how he is. A gentleman.

“‘S’alright, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?

From Joel Miller?

But he gives you a pat on the shoulder, motioning for you to help him, unaware he just made you weak at the knees.

You get everything hooked up, he opens the door for you like always.

You get in the truck and are met with a tense silence as he rolls into the middle of the road.

“Don’t say it,” you say, looking over at him, teasingly, waiting for the inevitable, I told you so.

“Wasn’t gonna say anythin’,” he smirks.

“I know you’re thinking it though.”

“I know you are, too.”

“You jinxed me,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I ain’t jinx nothin’.”

“You so did. This morning, at breakfast,” you say, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“I just said I was surprised it still runs.”

“Yeah and now look what happened.”

He laughs, you both do.

You’re met with silence for a long time. He turns down a couple streets, heading back to his house.

“You called Tommy.”

You suddenly feel like it’s harder to breathe.

“Yeah.”

“I’m always here if you need anythin’...” he says, but trails off, shaking his head.

“I know. I just didn’t want to bother you,” you whisper.

“You’re never a bother,” he says in that drawl. He takes a glance over at you then back to the road.

You gulp.

You watch his hands on the steering wheel. His thick fingers flicker on the settings for the radio, or tap on the top of the wheel when you stop at a red light.

It’s intoxicating.

He’s intoxicating.

But you already knew that.

“You can’t be starin’ at me like that in the house.”

You blush, snapping out of your dream-like haze.

“I — I’m sorry.”

He grunts.

You want to ask him. To talk to him. You want to know if he’s been thinking about you like you’ve been thinking about him. If you crawl into his sleepless nights, his daydreams, his every waking moment like he does to you.

You’re talking before you know any better.

“Can I ask you something?”

His reply is hesitant, but he motions for you to continue. When you find your voice, you manage to squeak out your question before you shut down and die from embarrassment.

“Is this hard for you?”

“‘S what hard? Drivin’?” he teases, you give him a shove but he doesn’t react to your touches.

“You know what I mean.”

“Not sure I do.”

Damn.

Maybe this is all in your head. Maybe when he told you that whatever this might be is over like he did all those weeks ago, he really meant it.

You shut up after that. Not really noticing your new found silence.

But Joel does.

He pulls up to the house, putting the car in park. He hops out first, opening your door, you walk by his side towards the front door.

When you step onto the porch you expect him to unlock the door, but he turns to you, surprisingly breaking the silence.

“Yes,” he says in a gruff voice.

You wait with bated breath for him to continue, until he doesn’t.

“What?”

“It’s hard for me,” he continues, you look at him.

He looks at you — almost with pleading eyes. It looks like he’s pained to say it.

“To see you everyday and not…” he trails off, but you know what he means. The thought sends a tell tale stickiness down in between your thighs.

You nod.

“It was kinda a fucked up coincidence,” you huff a laugh. He hums in agreement.

You stand there with him, the tension building to an all time high.

“Yeah,” he says after a while. “Fucked up.”

“It was —” you bite your tongue. Not sure whether or not to dig up the incident at the bar you both fought so hard to bury. To conceal your relationship from everyone, including yourselves.

“I know,” he agrees.

You look at Joel through your lashes.

He looks handsome.

He’s always handsome, but when he looks at you with a glint in his eyes and the sunlight makes his brown eyes caramel, it's something entirely different.

You take a tentative step forward. He doesn’t move back.

“I’ve missed you,” you say in a hushed whisper.

It’s true. You missed his presence. Most of your time being taken up by Sarah or Tommy. If this whole babysitting thing didn’t happen between you and Joel, you would probably be seeing him at least once a week.

At least.

He huffs out a sigh, taking a half step towards you. He looks at you almost sympathetically. And when his hand comes to angle your chin up towards him, his look becomes more painful.

Maybe this is the part where he kisses you, and everything melts away.

He dips his head down slowly. You keep looking back up to his eyes and down to his approaching lips to gauge whether or not this is a mistake.

Even though you both know it is.

His lips brush yours, you tremble, but his phone ringing in his pocket snaps you out of it.

He looks down, at the screen lighting up with Tommy’s name sprawled across it.

“Hello?” Joel answers.

Joel? Where the hell are you? The electrician —

You stop listening after that, stepping back. Joel mumbles some words on the phone while unlocking the front door and opening it for you, like always.

You give him a small smile and nod for him to go back to his truck.

He gives you a look — later?

You nod your head yes while shutting the door.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you slump onto the couch.

Later he had said with his eyes.

chapter iii. diced

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @jasminedragoon @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565

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bangaveragewhitewine · 2 months

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baby, be my valentine

dad!Steve Harrington x mom!Reader

February, 2000

A snapshot of Saturday morning with the Harrington's. In between toddler-cuddles and sister-squabbles, Steve has a very important question for you ❤️

In the same universe as soft slow, morning glow & hearts are wild creatures

Word Count: 5.3K

Contents: Sickeningly romantic loverboy Steve Harrington comes with his own warning. Heavy flirting and some kisses. Steve refers to you as his wife / Mrs Harrington. Parental domesticity - Steve & Reader have two kids. Valentine's vibes.

Author's Note: After a very frustrating few months, I found some sort of spark to write something and here we are. Easing myself back in gently, with my preferred brand of cosy domesticity and warmth. Proof-read by @specialagentmonkey. Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

Steve Harrington was a romantic.

He was a self-proclaimed hopeless romantic until he met you. After you smiled at him that first night almost ten years ago everything felt possible and full of hope.

Steve was easy to love, despite years of believing that he was not, that he would never be loved by someone in the way he wanted and needed. You were careful with his battered and bruised heart, nursed it back to health with your sweet kisses and gentle hands.

After years together, marriage and a house and children, you could swear on it that Steve had only got more romantic and loving with age. You were sure that he spoke each of the love languages fluently.

Physical touch was doled out in spades; he liked to have you always within reach of him, a hand in your back pocket (and yours in his ideally), gentle fingers brushing back your hair or beneath your chin so he could gaze at your pretty face. The weight of his hand against your hip, squeezing as he passed you by in the kitchen, or your shoulders when he knew you were feeling tired and tense; Steve’s touch gave you butterflies every time.

You never had to de-ice your car on cold mornings or fill the tank with gas. He had mastered the perfect bubble bath, filled deep and topped with fluffy bubbles - Steve knew too when to leave you alone in there with your book and a candle and silence, and when you wanted to rest back against his chest and talk about nothing and everything until your fingers and toes were pruny.

There was never a need to wonder whether he loved you; he told you every day. How beautiful you were, how proud he was of you. You both made sure your daughters knew too, that they were adored, that they were beautiful and smart and good. Steve listened too, remembered the little things you told him and loved seeing your eyes sparkle when he recalled something tiny from weeks ago. He surprised you with flowers and always bought the chips you liked when he was doing the groceries.

You were Steve Harrington’s favourite person and he was yours too. There was plenty of love to give and room in your hearts to spare when your girls came along, Beth and then Ava. Steve had learned a lot from his own Dad, though it took him a few tough years to figure it out. He learned how not to cherish your wife, how to make your kid feel totally worthless in a house full of valuable, breakable things. He promised himself that he would never be his father, do everything his father had failed to do. In a way, that is what made him the good man he was today. You were proud to be Mrs Steve Harrington.

February in Chicago was freezing, but the promise of brighter warmer days kept you going. On the Saturday before the big day, you wake to an empty bed. It was not unusual with Steve, who spent the mornings in the den with the girls and Saturday morning cartoons. Instead of his messy bedhead on the pillow beside yours was a bright red envelope. It took your sleepy brain a few moments to figure it out, but once you did you felt warm all over with butterflies swirling in your belly like a schoolgirl.

The card inside shows Snoopy holding a big red heart. When you open it, in Steve’s neat writing, is a simple question:

Will you be my Valentine? Steve x

You press your smiling face into his pillow, breathing in your husband's musky, lovely scent. An almost overwhelming wave of cuteness aggression crashes over you and you want to squeeze Steve until he wheeze-laughs and says something gorgeously charming like ‘down, girl’ or calls you his strong lady, asks for tickets to the gun show.

Nine Valentine's Days together and he always found a cute way to ask you before the day even arrived. Pre-kids there were flowers delivered to your workplace, a question whispered in between kisses lavished on your neck in the months counting down to your wedding. When Beth was born, he dressed her in a pink babygrow with red hearts and enlisted her cuteness to ask the question. When she got a bit bigger, sentient enough to understand it a little more, he would ask her too. When Ava joined the Harrington Crew, Steve found himself with three Valentines and felt like the luckiest man alive.

You think about the card and present tucked away in your closet to give him on Monday morning, a red envelope with your heart poured out inside that matched the nicely wrapped new Chicago Blackhawks jersey (with two tickets tucked in the collar). You cannot wait to see his face when he opens it.

Thinking about him, Steve’s smile, makes you miss him next to you. It makes you miss the warmth and weight of his arms made stronger from carrying car seats and all of the grocery bags in one go. Beth’s giggly voice travels upstairs, barely breaching the bedroom door but it is enough to make you ache with the need for morning hugs and toddler kisses.

You tiptoe downstairs to the den to find Steve in his comfy throne (his spot on the sofa, the left side near the side table with the lamp and TV remote and his coffee cup gone cold). He is watching the girls watch Bear in the Big Blue House. Ava is mesmerised by it, standing with one little hand on his pyjama pantsed knee and the other clutching a bottle. Beth sits cross-legged a few feet away, a little smile on her face because she loves Bear. Steve is just glad it’s not Barney & Friends - he loathes Barney and his friends.

You take a mental snapshot before Ava’s bat-like hearing makes her head whip around to spot you at the door. Her face melts into a beaming baby-grin (a toddler now, but she’s still got that gorgeous baby fat that you want to bite and nuzzle).

Babbling ‘Mama!’ she bee-lines to you and you wrap her to your chest with equal eagerness.

“Good morning, little one,” you whisper to her cheek, kissing it over and over as her dimples pop. Beth’s arms wind around your legs, head against your hip (she should never be this tall!) and you drop one hand to stroke her bed-head hair. “Hi Betty Bee.”

When you look at Steve he has a soft smile on his lips, everything is okay in the world now that you are here.

It makes your heart skip a beat. You feel just the same, everything is good. The washing machine has been acting up and your back still aches from when you slipped on ice after Christmas. There was a lice outbreak at Steve’s school in January and you both still get the phantom itches and have to check the girl's hair, just in case. But everything is good.

“Morning, handsome.”

“Hi, pretty lady.”

You can see that simmering excitement, barely contained beneath the surface. Did you see the card? Do you still think it’s sweet? Are you going to be his Valentine? You make him feel seventeen and stupid again.

Beth is chatting at breakneck speed and pulling you over to sit on the sofa as Ava’s curious hand wiggles beneath your fluffy robe.

“Mama! Tut-ter!” she says, pointing at the worried blue mouse, “Oh no!”

“Bear said I smell like warm an’ cosy, like a good sleep! I did have a good sleep!” Beth says, tapping your knees with busy fingers.

“Really? Let me smell...” Your Bear-like sniffing sends her into a fit of giggles when your breath tickles her neck, leaning against her Dad’s legs to evade the ticklish feeling.

“Mm, so warm and cosy,” you agree, before giving Ava the same treatment.

Steve feels a little bit like he might die if he does not get a kiss from you soon. Ava’s honey-blonde head blocks his way in for a smooch against your cheek, resting against your shoulder with a sigh too big for a two-year-old.

When Beth is distracted again by the television, you turn your body a little to look at Steve. He’s already looking at you and it feels like the sun is shining on your face, bright gold in the grey chill of the morning.

“Hi.” Your voice is a whisper across the youngest Harrington’s head. “Miss you.”

“Miss you,” Steve says, inching closer to you out of the warm Dad-shaped groove he has made on the sofa. His arm brings you and Ava closer, manoeuvring a kiss to your lips without squishing the little one too much. She complains anyway against your neck and earns herself a kiss from Steve as an apology.

“Kiss ‘gen, Dada!” she insists, and is only placated when her cheek is well and truly smooched. Her laughter tickles your neck until it is damp with baby breath.

He is still wondering whether you saw the card, feels a little silly asking in case you think he is corny or in case it had slipped beneath the duvet after he left.

“Up long?” you ask when she settles again, eyes on the screen. It’s barely after eight-thirty but his coffee is long gone cold.

“Ava woke at seven fifteen-ish, woke up Beth. I might have promised breakfast out if they were quiet and not wake you…” Steve watches your face for a reaction, hoping the lure of waffles and breakfast that you don’t need to do dishes after can win you over to his well-meaning-but-morally-skewed bribery. The creases from the pillow on your cheek make him feel fond and he chances another kiss over Ava’s head, pressed right on the pillow-marks. Her cute scowl is worth it to see your smile.

“I think that’s a great idea. Brains and beauty, huh? I’m a lucky woman, Harrington.”

That makes Steve smile, a shade of coy confidence. “Well, I’m a lucky guy, Harrington.”

There is a fluttering feeling deep in your chest, close to where Ava is stroking the collar of your pyjama shirt, but this is one hundred per cent Steve. Beside you, he basks in his own loved-up feeling, that sense of warmth and calm.

“Lucky us.” You turn and land a quick kiss on the side of his head. “Can we go to Bakehouse?” You are already dreaming of waffles with chocolate chips and strawberries, and crispy hashbrowns and coffee.

“S’a date,” he says, winking.

Ava turns in your lap, her eyes are back on the screen but yours are fixed on Steve, the smile lines around his eyes and the tired crescents beneath them, the stubble on his cheeks.

“I got your card.”

Steve’s heartbeat triples at your coy little smile. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. You’ve got yourself a Valentine, handsome.”

Steve beams brighter than the sun. “Cool. Prepare to get totally loved-on.”

Laughter bubbles from your lips, a giddy feeling vibrating through your bones. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. You’re getting so spoiled, baby.” Plain and simple; the sky is blue and the grass is green, and Steve Harrington is a romantic motherfucker.

You cannot stop smiling, cheeks aching as Steve presses one more lingering kiss there. “Okay, Cassanova. I’m ready to be ‘sooo spoiled’.”

He runs a hand through his messy hair, feeling all too pleased with himself.

“You wanna grab a shower before we go?” you ask.

His smile melts into a weak laugh, “Oh, you wound me, babe.” Steve lolls his head the other way to pantomime sniffing himself. “Not bad…”

“I like it when you’re musky.” You really do. You can’t make the most of it anymore, but when he comes back from a run or coaching basketball at the school, there’s something about sweaty pink-cheeked Steve that makes you feel a little bit crazy.

“But,” you continue, “if you go while they’re distracted, you can shower in peace.” Your fingers brush through the crushed baby curls at the back of Ava’s head, tickling the back of her neck until she squirms and cuddles back against you.

Steve softens and rests his head against the couch. “God, I love you.”

“Mm, I know. Love you more, Valentine.” You accept another smiley kiss and pout for one more because you need it.

“Go shower, stink. Bear will call you out if you stay for the next episode.”

You smirk when he rolls his eye at you, murmuring a playful ‘alright, jeezusss’ before squeezing Ava’s foot gently. His knees crack and Steve barely suppresses an all-out Dad Groan when he stands. Pinching your lips together barely contains your laughter, hidden against your toddler’s head when Steve narrows his eyes at you.

He is barely out of the room when you slide into the warm groove left behind, bringing cuddly Ava with you as Beth sings the ‘Goodbye Song’ as a duet with Bear. She joins you on the sofa and wiggles right up under your arm as the credits and advertisements roll.

“Mommy, are we going out for breakfast? Daddy said we might, if we were little angels.” Beth asks, resting her bony chin against your arm to look at you.

“Mmm, you’re always a little angel, Bethie.” You wink at her and watch her glow. “And Ava, my angel baby.”

“So can we?” she pushes, cherubic and smart.

“I think we can, sweetie.”

Beth wiggles with excitement before whispering to Ava, “We did it! Angel-girls!”

The thrill is contagious and Ava is wiggly with excitement. “Yay!”

They make you dissolve into a puddle of sugar with how sweet they are. You pull yourself together and crystallise back into Mom.

“Are you going to help me decorate for Valentine's later? We can do some crafts, hang up some bunting...” You watch Beth’s eyes go wide.

“Yes! I love Vanentimes!” she insists. “Miss Janine says, she says we making cards! On Monday. Van-en-time cards!”

With wide-eyed Mom-enthusiasm, you match her smile. “That’s so fun. Who are you going to give your card to? Do you know who you want to ask to be your Valentine?”

Beth considers it as you brush her hair away from her face. “Ummm. Maybeeee… Daddy!” Her smile shows off her perfectly milk-white baby teeth

Heart warmed, you stroke her soft cheek. “I think Daddy would be over the moon if you asked him to be your Valentine, babe.”

“I’ll ask Daddy, and Ava will ask you!” she decides.

Ava backs her up, “Yah, Mama!”

Beth giggles and tucks herself against you to watch the screen again. You don’t miss how she whisper-sings along to the theme song and looks up at you to make sure you’re watching too.

The need for coffee is pushed way back in favour of soaking up the quality time with your girls, how cuddly they are with you on this cold February morning. It’s cosy and perfect until it’s not, but those ten minutes were pretty great. Beth wants her turn sitting on your lap and Ava is absolutely not having it. It’s nice to be the centre of attention, but not when the two warring parties are tearful and are still learning how to process their emotions and words.

“Beth, please don’t push your sister. That’s really not kind,” you say. The smile-ache feels long gone and instead, that line between your brows feels deeper than the Grand Canyon.

“Ava hitted me! I did’in push her!” Her voice wobbles dangerously as she insists that she was pushing her sister's hand away. “I- I- wanna sit o-on you, Mommy!”

Ava is all out crying against your chest and your soothing circling back rub is doing nothing to comfort her upset.

There’s a particular heartache you feel when they both need your attention. It tugs hard that knot of anxiety in your chest; tears you can fix but you can’t figure out how to fix it fast enough. You want to gather them both into your lap at once and hold them both, but their pushing hands and kicking feet aimed at each other (sister-enemy #1) do you no favours.

You carefully lift Ava and place her down in your seat, keeping enough distance between them in case of any rogue pinching fingers. You kneel in front of the sofa, knees cushioned by the rug. “Listen to Mommy, please. Let’s take one big deep breath in, okay? All of us. Hold my hands.”

Their little hands slip into yours, both copying you to take deep shuddering breaths. It works better with Beth because she is older, a little wiser, she knows the drill. But Ava sniffles her way through it like a trooper, doing her best.

“Now we blow out the air.” Your big breath tickles their faces and makes the wispy hair around their faces fly, pulling tiny scrunch-nosed smiles onto their faces.

“Good. One more big big big breath.” Your thumb rubs tiny circles on their hands as you help them (and yourself) settle the big feelings. “You girls just got a bit frustrated, that’s okay. I love having you both sitting with me, it’s my favourite thing ever. But we have to be gentle and careful with each other.”

Sweet kisses are pressed to their hands in turn. “There’s plenty of Mommy to go around, no need to fight over me. I love you both so much.” You open your arms to gather them up, a few final tears soaked up by your robe.

Beth’s adjustment to Big Sister after two years of being the sole focus of your attention had gone mostly okay, but as Ava got bigger you could see the moments when she struggled with it all. You and Steve always made sure she got quality time with each of you, but it was still tricky at times.

“Are we all okay now?” you ask, watching them nod tentatively, “It’s okay if we’re not, we can take more deep breaths...” Neither girl lets go but you manage to move your head back to look at their pretty faces.

Ava rubs at her cheek and rests her head on you with another big sigh. “Oh-kay, Mama.”

“I’m okay, Mommy,” Beth promises.

You kiss their cheeks and tap your fingers on their backs. “If you’re okay, Mommy is okay too.” Neither really want to let go of you and that’s okay.

“Let’s go get dressed and we can start our day. Daddy’s going to bring us for breakfast. That’s going to be so nice, huh?” you suggest, hoping to distract and cheer them up. “I want waffles and some yummy strawberries.”

Steve’s voice at the door makes you startle.

“Good choice, Mama.” He has a small frown between his brows, a towel around his bare shoulders with his jeans already on. His hair is combed-through and damp, and his gold chain glints around his neck and collarbones. You don’t let yourself look at the happy trail disappearing beyond his waistband, though it is tempting.

“We okay?” he checks, looking at you. He brings with him an energy that makes the tense room feel light again. It is something you can’t quite name but it feels like everything will be okay again.

“We’re okay. Just a sister squabble. We took some breaths, didn’t we?”

Steve had introduced that trick - his school councillor certification came in handy at home too. You could simply not do this without him.

“Yeah, we okay now.” Beth hugs Ava, a little for show but mainly because she loves her. “Sorry Ava. I did’in mean to push you, I jus’ wanted to sit with Mommy too.”

Ava is too little to get it but she likes hugs and she loves Beth so she baby-hugs her right back.

“I get it. I like sitting with Mommy as well,” Steve says, hands on his hips. “So are you three going to get this show on the road or am I going for breakfast all by myself?”

You try to hide your smile in your robe but he knows that the Dad-routine really does it for you. “You going to ask us if we’re ‘ready to rock and roll’ next, Stevie?”

“Maybe, guess you’ll have to wait and see.” Steve winks at you as the girls hop off the sofa and make their way towards him. “You need a diaper change, and you need a hairbrush.” His finger points at Ava, then Beth as they hold hands now.

“And you.” You are next. “Need a kiss.”

Beth laughs when you fake-swoon and Ava squeals in delight at your silliness.

“How romantic. Come sweep me off my feet, I think I’m stuck.” You could haul yourself up from the floor but Steve’s warm hands do a much better job of helping you up. He sneaks an ass-grab while delivering the kiss you need so badly. With giggly kids present, you can only let it linger for a few moments but it is enough for now.

“My hero.” He earns himself one more peck before you pat his behind toward the stairs, the girls already waiting by the stair gate like the little angels they are. You spare him from your chilly fingers on his bare back as you follow them up - he always finds a way to get you back for that.

Steve scoops Ava up to change her diaper and dress her in something warm for the day and you shepherd Beth to pick an outfit. You can hear him wrangling her to lie down on her changing mat as you make Beth’s bed and pick up the fallen teddies from the floor.

“What are we thinking, babe? Maybe your pink cords and a sweater? Or…?” you suggest, turning to see her looking at her own reflection in the mirror on her wardrobe door.

Your arms wrap around her as she leans back into your legs, sharing a cheesy smile in the mirror. “You’re so pretty, Betty.”

“I look like you!” she beams, tilting her head back to look at you. The angle can’t be any good, she’s seeing the worst angle of your chin and right up your nose, but to Beth you are beautiful. “Daddy says I’m mini-Mommy, coz our nose and smile is the same!”

You cannot deny that Beth is more you than Steve in looks but she is bless with a beauty mark or two like his, you think they make her extra gorgeous.

“Let’s see?” For a few moments, you smile and pull faces with each other in the mirror before agreeing she is definitely all you. It’s quiet(er) down the hall, meaning Ava has stopped evading Steve and the clean diaper.

The pink cords are set aside for preschool on Monday and you dress Beth in a long-sleeve striped turtle-neck top and dungarees to keep the warmth in. She agrees to a woolly cardigan over-top and her snow boots, but only if her hair is half up with her butterfly clips - it’s a fair deal and she looks adorable. Her fifth birthday looms a few months away and you can already feel your heart aching in the best way.

“Beth Harrington, you are so gorgeous,” you say as she swishes her arms and bounces happily in front of the mirror again. She has his sparkle in her eyes that is so Steve, it hits you right in the chest. “Will you help me pick out my clothes, please? You’re a fashion expert.”

Nodding eagerly, Beth runs at you for a hug as tight as her little arms can manage. “Yep! We could match, Mommy! Please?!”

When she looks at you like that, with huge brown Bambi-eyes like her Dad, it’s hard to say no. Not that you want to.

“I’d love that.” You stand from her bed and feel her little hand slip into yours as you make your way down the hall to your bedroom.

It smells like Steve after his shower, warm and fresh with a hint of something spicy. He has made the bed and your Valentine's card is pride of place next to a photo of the girls on your bedside table. Beth zeroes in on it as you pick out some underwear and switch the bathroom fan off.

“Mommy, a card! Look!” she gasps.

“It’s from Daddy, he asked me to be his Valentine.”

You watch her eyes go wide before her face splits into a smile. “Daddy looooves you!”

“He does. And I loooooove him.” You wiggle your shoulders for emphasis, pulling more delighted laughter from your eldest.

While she strokes the sparkly heart on the card in awe, you pull on your jeans and pick out some top and cardigan options for Beth to choose from. You forgo the butterfly clips, but once you are dressed, you and your Mini-Me match quite nicely.

“Woah. Too much beauty in this room, I gotta leave,” Steve says when he joins you, pretending to shield his eyes.

Ava runs past you and climbs on the bed with Beth, a tornado in cosy pink and lilac leggings and a matching fleecy top. Her hair is in pigtails and you swear she ran right out of a JCPenney catalogue.

Steve is still in just his jeans, his hair mostly dry now after taking on Ava’s morning routine which primarily consists of her evading capture until she is limp with laughter.

With the girls minorly distracted, you take the chance to give Steve that appreciative once over. His tummy has this beautiful pudge that you want to press your face against and bite. He filled out a little more over the years, much to his initial disdain, though he did not care so much when he realised just how much you loved those softer edges.

Steve watches you do it, feels the warmth of your gaze roll over his body. You could surely be the death of him, making him boil over or implode with desire.

“Hey, handsome. Are you going to get this show on the road or are we going to have to do this breakfast thing all by ourselves?” You feel smug, parroting his words back at him and catching him off-guard.

His tongue presses into his cheek as he shakes his head, smiling down at his own socked feet. “You…” Steve shakes his head again. His hands feel huge on your hips when he squeezes past you, closer than he needs to be but still not close enough.

There’s a heat in his stare as he pulls a navy Henley on, then a sweater. He dials it down quickly when Beth remembers out loud the time when she saw Uncle Dusty’s cat throw up a hairball last summer.

You try not to laugh at her totally out-of-the-blue memory but nod along anyway, remind her how gross it was. “Good remembering, Betty.”

“Meee-ow!” Ava chirps next to her, proud of herself when she makes everyone laugh. “Cat!”

Steve cups her little face. “You’re a funny bunny, Ava.” He squishes her cheeks and rests a kiss on her forehead before giving Beth the same attention. “And you! Best remember-er in this house, huh? I had forgotten all about that.”

He had actively tried to forget it. It ruled out ever getting a cat, especially when Ava tried to touch said hairball. The memory makes him shudder.

Once everyone has brushed their teeth and used the bathroom, you bundle everyone up in coats and hats and gloves and pack into the car. It’s freezing cold but a morning out of the house is what you all need. A morning with no breakfast to make or dishes to wash is worth braving the cold for.

You feel toasty enough with your three favourite people, and Steve could swear that your hand on his thigh as he drives is all he needs to keep him warm.

“You look extra gorgeous today,” he says when you stop at a red light, the girls happily distracted in the backseat.

“Laying it on thick today.” Steve is easy to tease. “I already said I’d be your Valentine, Stevie. Consider me buttered up.” You squeeze his leg through the denim to lock in your promise.

“I’m being serious,” he insists. “Besides, I know you’re all loved up with me. You want to kiss me sooo bad.” His voice is like a song as he returns your teasing.

“Oh, I do. I even wrote your name in a heart in my diary.”

“Cute.” His teeth shine when he grins, glancing over at you before starting to drive again. “You want to go on a date with me? Dinner and some drinks. How ‘bout it. I’ll be real good to you, baby. Have you home by ten…”

Your laugh echoes around the car, cutting over the car radio quietly playing the Backstreet Boys and Lauryn Hill.

“What’s funny? Did Daddy make a joke?” Beth asks, wanting to be in on it immediately. “Tell me!”

She is quick, but Steve matches her. “What do you call a cat with a lemon in its mouth?”

You don’t know where he pulls them from, it’s probably deep in the Dad Manual, but it keeps the older girl thinking for a moment.

“Um… Lemony?”

He catches her eye in the rearview. “A sour puss.”

There’s a beat as she makes sense of it in her head, and you’re already groan-laughing when Beth gets it and joins in. She sets her sister off and Steve feels like King of the Car.

“Thanks guys, I’m here all week.”

Beth is tickled-pink and repeats the joke again for Ava who doesn’t get the word play yet but laughs when her sister cracks up again.

“So?” Steve asks you.

“Your jokes suck.”

“You laughed.”

“It was at your expense.”

He winces at that. “You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.”

With a coy smile, you counter, “You can take it, big boy.”

You watch his cheeks flush minutely, just like you knew they would. “And Eddie. Stop that,” he mutters, “Anyway. You never answered my question.”

Steve looks at you expectantly as he waits for a car to reverse out of a space right outside the cafe. If it wasn’t sub-zero you could have walked. Maybe in the spring.

“Ohhh.” Your smile is coy as you remember his pitch for your date. “Okay, Romeo. You can take me out.”

He grins, trying not to look quite so pleased with himself and failing miserably. “Cool. Tonight at eight. Rob’s taking the girls.”

As Steve swings the car into the parking spot, you sit in stunned silence. He switches the engine off and watches you for a moment before concern drips in, second-guessing himself.

“Is that okay…?”

“You… Steve, of course it’s okay!” You unclip your seatbelt to hug him across the gear stick, peppering kisses to his stubbly cheek. “Thank you,” you murmur. You can feel the relieved sigh leave his body as you crush him in a hug.

Steve steals a kiss from your lips. “Don’t thank me. I promised to spoil you.”

He earns himself another kiss with his sweet thoughtfulness as the girls begin to complain a little - Beth because she’s ‘sooooo hungry’ and wants to know why you’re kissing again, and Ava because she is sick of her car seat and simply must be freed from it.

“Alright, alright, we’re getting out now. Hold your horses, ladies,” Steve says, faux exasperation on his face that softens when he looks at your smiling face again.

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” you say, warmed from the inside out with pure adoration.

Even though the girls are getting whingey, and it’s starting to snow again and the cafe looks busy, you could not be happier or more content with life than you are right now. Everything is good.

Steve unclips his seat belt and zips his jacket all the way up. He winks at you before opening the door to start the endeavour of freeing the girls from the back seat with you and making sure they don’t slip on the ice, or wander in front of a car, or get too loud in the cafe.

“Love you more, Mrs Harrington.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

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nicoline1998enilocin · 10 days

Text

Birthday Boy | 750 follower special 💜

PAIRING || Husband!Dad!Robert Downey Jr. x Wife!Mom!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT || 3.8K

SUMMARY || Robert's birthday is coming up, so you decide to share this special moment for just a few days away from the spotlight. During your trip, you have a special surprise for him that will make it one never to forget. To top it all off, you're throwing a surprise party when you two come back, complete with his Marvel co-stars, friends, family, and two beautiful children.

RATING || Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS || RPF, established relationship, unspecified age gap, pregnancy reveal, referenced difficulty conceiving, surprise birthday party.

SMUT || Light teasing, dirty talk, praise, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, grinding, hair pulling, handjob, oral (M receiving), deepthroating, cum swallowing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), squirting, cream pie, cockwarming, aftercare.

A/N || This one-shot is written to celebrate Robert's 59th birthday a few days ago and my reaching 750 amazing followers! Unfortunately, I got very sick and couldn’t post it sooner, but I want you all to know that I am deeply grateful to you all, especially to my best friend and biggest supporter, @ccbsrmsf1. Getting to know you has been the highlight of my time on Tumblr, and I love you so much! 💜

EVENTS Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Wild || Neck Kisses Masterlist || @sweetspicybingo Winter || The Polar Express

Banners: @nicoline1998enilocin || Divider: @firefly-graphics || GIF: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist || Robert Downey Jr. Masterlist

"Welcome home," are the first words you say to Robert as you swing open the doors that belong to the cabin you have rented for the next couple of days. A thick layer of snow outside reminds you of The Polar Express - which happens to be one of your 18-month-old twin boys' favorite movies. As you step inside, you enter the living room, where a fire burns, creating a cozy vibe.

As soon as the door falls shut behind you two, Robert turns you around when the lock clicks into place, catching you off guard.

"Welcome home indeed, Gorgeous," he whispers against your lips before kissing them firmly. You smile into the kiss as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer as you two cherish the moment. It's nothing but you and him there for the next few days. When you pull away from his kiss, he pulls you close against his chest, his nose buried in your hair, and he gets a whiff of the vanilla shampoo you always use. It smells like you and has become his favorite scent since you two started seeing each other.

"Are you okay making us some food while I go unpack and put on something more comfortable?" you ask Robert, and he nods, already having an idea of what that might be. He still likes to be surprised, so he'll patiently wait to see what you have in store for him.

You quickly go to the large bedroom to get the lingerie you bought for this trip. You have another beautiful set at home as a birthday surprise, but to make this trip unforgettable, you have splurged on a brand new, bright red set that will surely blow your husband away. He has always told you he loves you most in red, so this is the perfect way to surprise him.

You put it on before grabbing one of Robert's shirts to finish the look. After a quick check in the mirror to touch up your make-up, you're ready to surprise your husband and look forward to his reaction.

Without saying a word, you make your way over to where he's sitting, and he quickly puts his phone away when your bare legs come into his field of vision, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His gaze slowly rakes over your entire body, from your legs and thighs, over the curves of your breasts in the shirt to your face; every single inch of you is inspected.

A slight flush spreads over your cheeks at the attention he's giving you, and you take his hand when he reaches out. Your legs are placed on either side of his thighs as you straddle his lap, your chest resting against his as your faces are an inch apart at most.

"I don't know how you do it, but you manage to take my breath away daily, Gorgeous. And I feel like the luckiest man in the universe to have fallen in love with someone as beautiful, smart, and loving as you-" Robert tells you, his deep brown eyes focused on yours as you hang onto every word.

"And the fact that we have two amazing boys together is the cherry on top for me," he finished, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips glide the line of your jaw and down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path. Once he reaches the collar of his shirt, he straightens it out, and you release a breath you didn't even realize you were holding in.

"But most of all, I feel very fortunate because you're mine."

With those words, he pulls you against his chest, your lips colliding in the kiss they've longed for from the moment you sat down. A heat is starting to surge between your legs, arousal building quickly at the way he shows his possessiveness and domination.

A soft moan escapes your lips as he repositions himself, his bulge pressing against your clothed core, exactly where you need him most. While he swallows the moan slipping from your lips, he slips his tongue into your mouth, and your hands glide from his chest around his neck and into his hair, letting your fingers glide through the soft strands.

Robert's fingers dig into your hips as he guides you over his clothed bulge, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body. When he pushes his hips up as well, your grip on his hair tightens, making him groan in response.

You lean back a little with your hands on his shoulders as you work your hips in tandem with his, and Robert has to use every last bit of his restraint to hold back on his orgasm, wanting to save it for when he's buried deep inside your warm, tight pussy.

"D-Daddy, please, 'm so close!" you pant as you feel the pleasure in your body rise, your orgasm about to wash over you at the feeling of him. With a few more well-aimed thrusts, you're falling apart on his lap, and you soak your panties and your husband's pants in the process.

"Look at you, Gorgeous, so fucking beautiful when you cum for me like that. Working yourself on your Daddy's cock like that, you couldn't even wait until I'm buried so deep into your sweet, tight cunt before cumming? Such a needy little girl for Daddy," he tells you, and all you can do is nod in response.

You allow yourself to sag against his body, and Robert's hands rub your back soothingly as you come down from your high. His warm hands find their way under your shirt, and it's comforting to feel his large hands rubbing over your body.

His hands wander down before grabbing the hem of the fabric draped over your body, and he tugs on it a few times to let you know exactly what he wants.

"Let's have a look at what's underneath here, Gorgeous. I can only assume you didn't walk out here looking like this without having something special underneath," Robert says with a smirk and a raised brow, and the flush on your cheeks is back.

"You know me too well, Daddy," you whisper shyly before raising your arms. He pulls the fabric over your head to reveal a bright red set of lingerie that perfectly complements your skin, and your husband gasps softly at the sight in front of him.

His hands are back on you in an instant, and he lets them wander all over your body before his thumbs glide over the cups over your bra, feeling your hardened nipples through the lacey fabric. Soft moans leave your lips as he takes his sweet time with them, playing with your peaked buds until you're writhing on his lap, desperate for release again.

Your own hands glide over his abdomen and down to the button of his pants, popping it open without resistance. You're lucky that Robert usually prefers to forgo underwear, as it's too uncomfortable for him, meaning you're immediately greeted by his hard, bare cock.

"That's it, Gorgeous," Robert says as his head falls on the back of the couch, your hand wrapped around his cock as you work him up and down slowly, squeezing him just the way he likes. Taking your time to work his shaft, you feel every pulse of it, making him groan deeply when you give extra attention to his leaking, sensitive tip.

"G-Gorgeous, fuck, 'm gonna cum if you- oh god- don't stop," he pants out through gritted teeth, and you decide to have mercy on him, not wanting his sweet, delicious cum to go to waste after all. Without saying anything, you slide off his lap and onto the rug in front of the couch.

You look up at your husband through your lashes, biting your bottom lip as a smile tugs on the corners of your mouth. Your nails are raking over his still-clothed thighs, moving up to remove the offending piece of fabric that's very much in the way. Your husband lifts his hips to help accommodate taking off his pants, and soon after, his entire bottom half is bare. Perfect.

"It's so big, Daddy," you say in a soft whine, your brows knitted together as you wrap your hand around his cock again. He lets out a breathy chuckle, knowing you can easily take him in whatever way he pleases and in whatever hole he wants. But that doesn't mean you won't act a bit innocent occasionally.

"Hmm, I'm sure we can make it fit, Gorgeous," he whispers before guiding your head to his tip, your tongue immediately poking out to lick the bead of pre-cum off as soon as it appears.

"You're so good to me, fuck! Must've been a saint in a past life to deserve someone as amazing as you," Robert says after you take his tip into your mouth, suckling softly while hollowing your cheeks. Your hand barely closes around his girth as you work him up and down, slowly working more and more into your mouth.

His thighs spread a bit wider as you take more of him into your mouth, and his groans start to increase with every stroke and swallow. The familiar taste and smell of your husband spread throughout your senses, and you clench around nothing as he suddenly grabs your head, working you further onto his cock.

"That's it, takin' me so well," he grits out as he feels himself being worked into your throat without even the slightest bit of resistance. You moan around his hard length as he works you up and down, groans tumbling from his lips as well. As soon as your nose touches his pelvic bone, he suddenly releases you, and you pull off immediately to breathe in a big gulp of oxygen.

"I want your cum, Daddy; please give me all your cum," you beg before immediately diving back in, not wanting to be away from it for too long. It doesn't take long for Robert to do precisely what you asked, and you work him through his orgasm as he moans your name loudly, your hand working him steadily as you swallow every last drop of his cum.

"F-fuck, so good to me," he pants as he comes down from his high, and you're back in his lap. His now soft, sensitive cock is lying between his thighs as you straddle it, your lips attaching to his in a gentle kiss that makes him smile.

"I love you so much, Gorgeous," he whispers against your lips, which makes you smile as well.

"I love you too, Daddy," you tell him before you two get lost in a slow make-out session, taking your sweet time with one another while Robert kneads the soft globes of your butt, and your fingers keep gliding through and messing up his hair.

The rest of the day is spent making love, cuddling, and whispering sweet nothings to one another in front of the fireplace, and it is heaven for the both of you. Sharing this moment outside of the spotlight is exactly what was needed to recharge and strengthen your relationship.

It's been about a day and a half since you and Robert arrived at the cabin, and so far, you two have barely left the other alone, even going as far as cockwarming him during sleep - one of your favorite shared activities. When he woke up this morning, he couldn't resist fucking you awake, and that was the start of yet another day of making love without a single interruption.

Now, you're cuddled against your husband's side, your fingers tracing abstract figures through his chest hair and over his tattoo as you both look at the snow outside. The fire in the bedroom is crackling and spreading the perfect amount of warmth throughout the room.

"Are you ready for another round, Gorgeous?" Robert asks you, and you nod before allowing him to guide you onto your back, your hair splayed out on your pillow like a halo. Your legs are spread to make room for your husband, who's taken it to line up with your entrance.

His face is nuzzled into your neck, peppering it with little kisses as he works his hips back and forth. Soft gasps escape as his tip nudges your sensitive, swollen clit.

"So wet for me already, Gorgeous. I haven't even been inside you yet, and you're dripping for me," Robert tells you while reaching down to his hard length, grabbing it so he can slowly work it into your waiting entrance. He doesn't take long to push in, your lip bitten raw at this point from the pleasure, but he wants to hear everything.

"You know I don't want you to hide your beautiful sounds," his thumb pulls your lip from your teeth before gliding over it and pushing it, pressing down on your tongue to open your mouth even further. With slow thrusts, he works himself into you, careful not to hurt you.

"Hmm, good girl," he praises you as he bottoms out, followed by a groan. Your pussy flutters around him at the praise, and he sets a slow pace with which he almost entirely pulls out before thrusting back in, constantly putting you on the edge.

The bed slams against the wall with every thrust, and he slowly picks up the pace as your moans get louder and you clench tighter around him.

"You are so beautiful, Gorgeous. I can't wait to see you walking around with a beautiful, round belly when you're pregnant with my baby again," he tells you, his forehead connecting with yours as your breaths mingle together. His cock twitches as it's buried deep inside you, and he somehow seems to get impossibly harder at the thought of you carrying another one of his babies.

Your nails dig into your husband's biceps at his words, a smirk playing on his lips at the sensation. With expert precision, he finds your sweet spot, hitting it every time as he looks at the way your face contorts as both your orgasms are rapidly approaching.

"I-I'm close, D-Daddy!" you croak out between thrusts, your voice raw from all the moaning and taking Robert down your throat as well, but you wouldn't change it for the world. Robert's hand moves between your bodies, your back arching into him at the moment he finds your clit, rubbing it in tight circles.

With a scream of his name, you fall apart, your orgasm washing over you with a force you've rarely felt before. Before you know it, you're pushing him out of you as you squirt, Robert only prolonging it by constantly rubbing your clit, until overstimulation threatens to take its place.

"Fuck, good fucking girl, beautiful when you squirt for your Daddy like that. God, 'm close too, Gorgeous. Gonna give you all my cum and fuck another baby into you, want to see you round with my baby again," he murmurs against your neck, his orgasm washing over him soon as well.

"Oh, my- take it! So much cum for you, just for you, Gorgeous!" he shouts as he pumps you full, not a single drop of it wasted as he works you both through it, collapsing by your side after he's done. Both panting and a layer of sweat covering both your bodies as you lay there, but also fully satisfied.

"I love you," Robert whispers, and you smile.

"I love you too," you say in a rumbling voice, making your husband chuckle. You two lay like that for a few more minutes before he draws you both a bath. While that's happening, you rummage through your suitcase, looking for a little box you brought.

"Ready—" is all he can say before you stretch out your hand and pull him onto the bed as he takes it.

"I have a surprise for you. I was planning on waiting until tomorrow to give this to you, but I can't wait any longer. So... happy birthday, Daddy," you say with a wink as you hand him the box. He takes off the lid, and inside is a pregnancy announcement. For a few minutes, he is completely silent, simply looking at what's inside.

Eventually, his fingers glide over the pregnancy test to see if it's real, and once he knows for sure you're pregnant, he bursts into happy tears. After the birth of your twin boys, you two have had quite a difficult time conceiving again, but it finally worked.

"I can't believe it. We're going to have another baby," Robert says, reaching out to touch your belly. You place your hand on top of his as you look down, your tears falling now, too.

"I can't wait to meet you either, Little Nugget," Robert says before sitting in silence for a bit longer, basking in the moment. Eventually, Robert lifts your face with his index finger before capturing your lips in a soft, sweet kiss, conveying every emotion.

You two had made peace with the fact that there would be no more kids after you brought your twin boys into the world, but seeing this miracle now has you believing that everything will be okay.

"How far along are you?" Robert asks, his hand never leaving your belly as he looks at you.

"Two and a half months; I found out about two weeks ago but wanted to save it for your birthday," you tell him, and he nods in understanding.

"I'm pretty sure it's already April 4th somewhere, so happy birthday to me," he jokes, making you both laugh hard. After a bit longer, he carries you to the bathroom before placing you in the tub and joining you soon after, a bowl of your favorite fruits ready to munch on.

"I love you, Gorgeous. Thank you for truly making this trip unforgettable," Robert tells you, making you smile broadly.

"I love you too, Robert," you say, sealing it with a kiss before settling on his lap. Your back is against his chest as he feeds you the fruit, his free hand lying on your belly the entire time you're on his lap. You were already beautiful before, but now he finds you irresistible, and that will only grow as your baby grows, too.

The day of Robert's birthday has finally arrived, and you decided to wake him up the best way you know how: a blowjob. Before he was even fully back on earth, he was having his first orgasm of the day, and there would be many more to follow.

While on the plane back to the U.S., you're busy arranging the last things for the surprise party you have planned for him. All of his Marvel co-stars, as will your Mom and Dad with your twin boys, will be there. It will be a simple dinner, but it's more than he would ever expect, as you usually celebrate his birthday with your boys.

"Are you ready for the landing, Gorgeous? We'll land in about 30 minutes, and I can't wait to see little Axel and Hunter again," he says, referring to your twins. They're both carbon copies of Robert from when he was their age.

"Absolutely! How about we make the best of the last 30 minutes we have together?" you ask as you put your phone away, trusting that your parents have everything under control back in New York.

"I thought you'd never ask," he says before pulling you onto his lap and quickly pulling you in for a passionate kiss. It's a good thing you're on a private plane, enjoying a much-needed uninterrupted make-out session. Robert's hands are in the back pockets of your jeans while yours are messing up his hair again.

When it's finally time to go home, you quickly let your Mom know you two are on the way back, as it's only a 15-minute drive back to your home. The entire trip is in a comfortable silence, though you're getting nervous about his reaction.

"Please, calm down, Gorgeous; I'm sure I will love whatever you have planned for me," your husband tells you as he puts his hand on your thigh, stopping your leg from bouncing up and down nervously. He gives you a reassuring smile, which you happily reciprocate, grabbing his hand to lace it with yours.

Once you arrive at your house, everyone inside is ready to welcome both of you home, and your parents have done an outstanding job of decorating it as well. They thought about everything, and Robert's Marvel co-stars and their spouses are all waiting to welcome you both home and wish him a happy birthday.

"You should go first," you say before getting to the door, and he does precisely that. As it swings open, you're both greeted by a loud 'SURPRISE!' from everyone, and your twins are already making grabby hands at you. A wide smile appears on Robert's face as he takes everything in, and he couldn't be happier.

"Happy birthday, Robert," you say with a kiss before taking Hunter from your Mom's arms and giving him a big kiss on his cheek. Robert does the same with Axel before greeting everyone. Mark, Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Sebastian, Anthony, Scarlett, and Jeremy are also here to celebrate his birthday.

"Before we move on to the presents, we have an announcement to make! We are officially expecting baby number three!" he says enthusiastically, and now it's your turn to get congratulated by everyone.

"I'm so happy for you both! I know it's been difficult, but you both deserve it so much," Scarlett tells you as she pulls in for a hug. During your last pregnancy and the time after that, you two built a powerful friendship, and your children are all getting along well, too.

"Thank you so much. Getting here has been quite a tough ride, but now that we're finally expecting again, I couldn't be happier. And honestly, it would be nice to have another baby again. The twins are growing up so fast that I can't wait to have a newborn in October," you tell her, visibly glowing.

"Tell me about it! They're so cute when they're small," she says, and you nod. The day is filled with laughter, excitement, and love. Robert couldn't have wished for a happier birthday than he has today, and he can't wait to see what you are planning for his 60th birthday next year.

About two and a half months later, you find out you'll have a baby girl this time, who is born on Halloween. Her name is Carolina Isabela Downey, and she's been a happy baby since day one. She completes your family, and life has never been better than it is now.

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nikox400x · 1 month

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Kung Fu Panda 4-All the budget went to the animation (spoilers)

Hey all, its me, the guy who everyday make a tour around this site but almost never talk. How are ya?

Two days ago something arrived to the cinema's screens, something that me and everyone were waiting for since 2018, the fourth film and the begginig of the new kung fu panda triology.

You know? When I sat on that theather seat with my friends to see what Dreamworks had prepared for us, I told myself; "Maybe that post I made a while ago throwing shit at what seemed like Kfp 4 was going to be was a bit hard, I hope I can come out regretting what I said that time"

And as soon as the credits ended, it was clear to me, I dont regret a shit. Maybe it was a little exaggerated, compared to what a megamind fan would think about the terrible sequel they made, but still: the film is crappy and boring most of the time. But why?

I'm going to explain some points.

1- Po? Is that you?

I don't know you guys, but i don't think the panda we knew in the end of the third film is the same as this one. Seriously, he share more comparisons with the Po from the legend of awessonless than the one from the films, maybe its a personal thing but it feels that way. At least in the beggining of the film feel like that.

And I don't know what he was thinking about when he decided to follow a thief he doesn't know at all and who tried to steal in his own palace, and that suspiciously know who is the chameleon, whose were her plans, her past, where she lived, where exacly they had to pass through avoiding all the guard inside her home, why the others thiefs of the city hate her so much... With Po's experience with criminals this is like a chef throwing water on a pan with boiling oil, it's obvious what is going to happen.

2- Zheng- Female Nick Wilde but without charisma or half of his intelligence.

I knew it from the first moment I saw Zheng's desing, the people who know me can corroborate that; her facial expressions, her tone while she talk, her animal race, her position as thief, her final when she is part of the justice same as the protagonist... it's clearer than water I think.

Everyone could say this is forgivable if she's smart, but surprise, she's not. This character is just an absurd try of this company for """"conect with infant audience""""(I don't know in what sense, I supose for the cute design, idk). But the point is, the supposed objective of the hollywood companies is give the new generetions better things than we got at their age, but what I see is laziness for write a decent scrip only for take an advantage of a known IP and make easy money. Even the children have quality standars, this is not the dragon warrior and of course this is not kung fu panda.

And talking about the dragon warrior, having our deep and lovely Tigress with her magnific development or Tai Lung back from the spirit realm... why in the hell this character exists?! Oh yeah, for being trending topic in twitter for three days. Yay...

3- The furious five and Shifu, for us : our pretty boys, and for Dreamworks: living jokes.

What made Kung Fu Panda what it is, is not the fucking panda, it's them. They're the inspiration for Po, their allies, the royale representation of kung fu and the ones which everything started with.

Po's a comic relief, and his mission is show his development in part using his humor, but the humor in this film barely works because of the lazy script. Something that even the talented Jack Black himself can't fix, beacuse his only role there is dublin his character, unlike the rest of the residents of the Jade Palace except Dustin Hoffman.

Seth Rogen (Mantis) himself even said that he wasn't even contact by Dreamworks in the first place, only for make a scream in the credits, that's sad beacause he really wanted to see Mantis on the screen. And I know and I understand that the five are expensive, but cmon, they could just simply change the voice actors and offset it with a good script but that's not the case of course. Their role in the film is being a counter for Po's constant jokes, for not to saturate the spectator with jokes, now that's not in there anymore, thank you Dreamworks.

4-The chameleoooohhn and her "motivation".

I can't say much, basically because out of her design she's nonsense. She says that because of her size, she was reyected for being a kung fu warrior.

Yeah of course but only one little thing, what about Shifu? Viper, a warrior without tips? Mantis, literally a dawn insect? Master Oogway, a TURTLE? The masters goose? C'mon even there's a fucking master chicken! Don't talk shit chameleon!

Her importance for the plot? Its almost a lie, the others villains had links to important characters; Tai Lung (with his link to Shifu's past), Shen (with his link to Po's past) or Kai (with his link to Oogway's past), all of them related to important characters. And her? To zheng's past and present I guess? But again, anyone know this character. She's like a villain from a Disney show, you know the type of villain who say a lot of things but at the end, she don't support nothing to the lore.

And her personality is like a mix of all the previous villains, and this sounds good right? HAHAH nope. Do you remember when as a child you mixed all the plasticines of all the colors to create the final color and you ended up with a color similar to poop? well that's exacly how her personality feels like.

5- Po's dads; the only reason they're there is because they ran out of characters to make the film.

The tittle itself tell everything, they don't do anything for the script in all the film, and their objective could be done since the start.

The script of the film except for the final looks like a draft which they didn't know how to complete, everyone who watch it can see it perfecly. The animation, the music and the backgrounds are the only things notable here.

6- Tai Lung and the cheapness nostalgia.

Fan service is not necesarry bad, above all if is used in a good way, they sold us Tai Lung as a miracle but his importance for the plot feels just like a Stan Lee cameo, I like Tai Lung I can say that. But this is too weak, Shen and Kai are only characters in the background who don't do nothing except being defeated or make facial expressions (I don't even joke that Shen would show respect to Po considering what we saw in the second movie, and Kai wasn't supposed to be destroyed as a spirit, what the hell is he doing here again? *sign* I'll to stop trying to make sense of this).

By the way, anyone else think that the dragon warrior role is understimated? I mean Shifu obligated Po to transfers the role to another one just because yes, i mean he only has been the dragon warrior for less than 5 years and now they want to replace him with a random. Everything just for at the end, he choosed a thief with at least 30 crimes registred and who was a traitor during the 75% of the movie.

7- The """""""""humor"""""""", except they forgot the parts where I must to laugh.

Seeing nonsense hits only beacuse yes stopped of being funny a long time ago, and no, I don't want to talk about the bunnies of the portrait because I would get sick. I had to go to the cinema drunk to endure the filler that the movie had, no joke, it was the only way to laugh at those jokes.

So I think about applying the same method as in any movie with bad jokes, ignoring the jokes. I tried to do the same thing but with the pace that the film managed, such a thing was impossible, the pace of the movie seems to be made for Tiktoker children with attention deficit. From the chaos in the quarry until Po takes the bitc... uhg fox out of prison, only 10 fucking minutes pass, all of that for what? So that you feel like the baseless information and the nonsensical plot that they tell us is of any use? they could simply make a non-canonical short and that's it, but no, yes or they were going to tell us a story written by rotten old men who spend the entire day watching Tik Tok. It's not going to be that the child who sees this doesn't get bored, we know that much today's children don't have many neurons as they say, but even to make movies for them you have to have a certain talent.

In some point at the beguining Po make a joke about the ausence of the furious five saying that at least he had them in cardboard posters, and this would be a good joke. Only if the stupid film could be prove that the franquise can do something memorable without the furious five, but again, that's not the case.

Don't have any respect for this movie, look what it had with you. I understand that it is enjoyable because of the animation but it does not go beyond that line, it destroys important things about the canon and spoils its teaching about the need for change by treating it in a terrible way.

Coclusion: KFP 4 is just another Po's adventure as Shifu says, it won't tell nothing to you or make you feel different, it's a shame but after Megamind 2 I imagined something like this. It's a dark era for film, expecially the animated one so like Scar said; Be prepare, there're worse things waiting for us.

Do you want something with real quality? You don't even need kung fu panda 1,2 or 3, for make it easy to this film let's take this marvelous example; kung fu panda: secrets of the scroll (2016). You'll say; "An animated short, this is not like-" Shhh Just watch it, you won't regret it.

If you think I'm wrong in something, just rewatch the film. And if still you aren't agreed with me, well, I respect you and I'm happy you like it. I wish I could love it as you do, but that doesn't mean that the movie isn't bad, because if you watch it with your brain on or remembering the previous movies it's terrible.

. Me? I've to write a story, I love you all. Except you, Dreamworks, I'm mad with you, expecially when you do this at the same day as Akira Toriyama's death :(

#kung fu panda #secrets of the scrolls #kung fu panda 4 #kung fu panda 2 #tigress #furious five #akira toriyama #dreamworks #po ping #lord shen #tai lung #general kai #kung fu panda 3 #the lion king

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party-hearses · 10 months

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i am a nightmare, you are a miracle // 1

i'll bury us both, fed to the night as ghosts

series masterlist | next chapter

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader, ex!Tommy Miller x f!reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

Summary: After your two year relationship with Tommy Miller ends, Joel takes you in — and it’s home like you’ve never quite known before.

Series Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, language, infidelity, eventual smut, age difference, soft!joel, AU - no cordyceps outbreak, Sarah doesn’t exist (sorry), Tommy stans don’t come for me

Wordcount: 5.8 k

A/N: I’ll be honest — I have no idea what I’m doing. I haven’t written a fic in damn near 20 years, so I’m just kind of throwing this out into the void to see what happens. I'm playing fast and loose with years and ages; it's 2023 and there's no outbreak. Also, not a personal fan of the ‘brothers’ trope, but…here we are.

…I can’t wait until your next business trip…

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes as hard as you can. Who even uses email to have an affair, anymore?

…miss your hands…

The words are hot against your eyelids, seared into your line of vision, despite the dull ache from your own hands. It had been a week, and the wound still feels gaping — all consuming, bitter pain licking at your insides what feels like every minute of the day.

“Dammit, peach. I’ve barely seen you in a week and a half, and this is the bullshit you start?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault that you’re having an affair?”

“I didn’t say that!”

Tommy’s eyes wild, hands on his hips, southern drawl like syrup over each syllable.

“You’re always workin’. In meetings. Pourin’ yourself into spreadsheets and budgets. What am I s’posed to do?”

His hands in the air, desperate, shoulders hunched.

“Still sounds a lot like you’re blaming me.”

You can feel the tears well up, and you swallow hard to stop them. Do not cry at work. Do NOT cry at work. You breathe deep, the burning in your lungs waning, but not extinguishing. The usual busy noises of your office are absent today, save the soft purr of the air conditioning and the receptionist’s furious clicking at her keyboard. Even the phones are silent; no frantic calls from upstairs to divert your attention from the constant replay of that night.

Finally feeling steady enough to remove your hands from your eyes, you lock your fingers together and lay your cheek on top of them. Everything feels heavy — your workload, your personal life, your head. Your gaze slowly flickers to the office window, the sunlight streaming through, the heat scorching. It seems to call out to your blood, making you feel restless, agitated, but also so fucking tired.

Sleep had eluded you since Tommy had left, and you’d barely been able to steal moments here and there, between dinner for one on the couch and the canned laughs of late-night talk shows. How different your life had been even two weeks ago.

“Did you bring lunch?”

Abruptly brought back to earth, your eyes snap up to the face of your colleague, Ava.

“Um, yeah. Just some veggie sticks and hummus. I, uh, haven’t been feeling terribly hungry.” You smile weakly, the attempt at a joke feeling like a weight around your neck.

Ava nods in understanding, her eyes sympathetic. She had been the second person you’d called the next morning, after your older sister. Kit, five years your senior, had answered, already sounding distracted by her two young children.

“Well, girl, I can’t say I didn’t tell you so. Getting involved with a man seventeen years older than you…”

While Kit had been hard and borderline disinterested, Ava had served as a warm landing for your sobbing, rushing to the empty apartment on a Saturday morning to soothe you.

“It’s Friday. We can duck out early, grab a drink? You could use one, and Jackson isn’t back from his meeting upstairs.” Ava checks her watch, confirming. “It’s not like anyone will even miss us.”

Ava is dependable, fun, beautiful. Her cool California attitude compliments her chic New York style, but she had called Austin home since college. She could wrap anyone around her finger with ease, and her insistence on being your friend made your heart clench.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” You nod solemnly, tears now pricking at your eyes from the tenderness you feel towards her.

She meets the tenderness with a wide grin. “Knew you would, doll.”

As you turn to gather your bag, a sudden lightning bolt of fear strikes you.

“Av, what if he’s there? What if we see him?”

She swallows down a laugh. “Tommy Miller? Downtown?” She leans closer to you, raising her eyebrows. “He wouldn’t be caught dead at Taquero Mucho. Not willingly, at least.”

Ava is right, as always. The lush pink floral interior and neon signage on the walls of the restaurant do not, and would not, mesh with Tommy Miller’s bearish sensibilities. You instantly feel more at ease, letting Ava order pink, fruity drinks for the both of you.

One cocktail turns into two turns into three, and the warm buzz in your veins settles your mind for the time being. Ava sits across from you, happily munching on tortilla chips and chattering away.

“I couldn’t believe Belinda said that! Like, retire already, grandma.” She grins, rolling her eyes.

You chuckle, only half hearing the story she’s been telling. Noticing, she gently shifts in her seat, drawing closer to you.

“Doll, I’m sorry to have been chatting your ear off. You know how I get. Let’s hear- ah, wait!” She notices your empty glass, and as if she had snapped her fingers, the server materializes.

“Two more, please.” She nods toward the server, who rushes away to put the order in, lest they keep Ava waiting. “Okay. So… what are you going to do? We need to get you out of that apartment. And since you refuse to stay with me…”

Your gaze drops to your hands in your lap. If you thought crying at work was bad, crying at lunch was worse. You clear your throat, eyes catching your chipped fingernail polish.

“I don’t know, Av. He- it’s his apartment. It’s not like I don’t make enough to get something on my own, but… I don’t know. It all feels so empty.”

Ava nods as the server places two more pink cocktails on the table. Mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ to him, she reaches for it before responding.

“Where’s he staying? And for how long?”

“His brother’s. Said he’ll give me as much time as I need…but I don’t want to be there anymore. I don’t feel like I can be. Maybe I should get out of Austin?”

Ava raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think so. You can’t let him run you out of town! That’s outrageous. He’s not even worth that.” She rolls her eyes again.

You reach for your drink, sipping it slowly, willing it to quiet the bitter fire in your blood.

“Peach, come on. I- I didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything. You’re gonna throw two years away over a one time thing? A-a mistake?”

“It should have never happened, Tommy! Fucking a client? And I know it wasn’t just once! What the fuck were you thinking?”

Tommy’s eyes soften, but he doesn’t speak. His hand goes to the back of his neck, kneading.

“Guess I wasn’t thinkin’.”

Tommy had shattered you. Betrayed you. Split you open and cut your insides out. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that he wasn’t a good man. Complicated? Yes. Hard to read? Yes. Prone to making colossal fucking mistakes? Absolutely. But you knew, deep down, that he wasn’t bad.

You shake your head at Ava slowly, sadly. “I don’t know what I did wrong, Av. Two years. I don’t know what happened.”

Your eyes well up, and this time you can’t stop the tears. You sniffle, wiping them away quickly, as Ava puts her hand on your forearm.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, doll. He’s the one who fucked up. He’s the one who ruined everything.”

“H-he said I work too much. I’m ‘not there’ enough. And…and…the worst p-part is, I don’t think he’s wrong!” It takes everything in you not to wail. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, trying to focus on the in-out in-out of your breathing.

Ava signals for the check, another of her magic abilities. You can feel the server’s eyes on you as he brings it, quietly clicking his tongue against his teeth. Another sad drunk girl. Tsk, tsk. It’s barely 3 o’clock. Ava hums softly, scribbling her signature on the receipt.

“There’s not a justification in the world for what he chose to do. You worked hard for your career, busted your ass to be where you’re at. It’s no excuse for him to have a full-blown affair with a client.” She closes the receipt inside the booklet and stands. “Now let’s get you home, so you can cry it out in peace.”

Unlocking the door of the apartment fills you with dread. The key feels unwieldy in your hand, and you consider for a split second whether it will feel daunting or freeing to give it back to Tommy. You let yourself in, the apartment hauntingly empty — just as you had left it, just as it had been for the past seven nights.

You’ve only spoken to Tommy sparingly over the course of the week. A few short texts here and there, mostly about the logistics of the arrangement you are both now navigating. He had left for Joel’s late the night it happened, a duffel bag slung low over his shoulder, slamming the door on his way out.

“This it, peach?”

…miss your hands…

Dropping your bag next to the front door, the tears don’t stop once they start.

Ava had offered to come up, but you knew you couldn’t let her. She didn’t deserve to have to wallow with you, no matter how much she wanted to be there for you.

It had been a good distraction, lunch with her, but you still didn’t know what your plan was. Where you’d be going, where you’d be living.

Hugging yourself, you shuffle into the guest bathroom to wash your face. After Tommy had left, you’d moved everything you needed out of the main bedroom and bathroom, suddenly feeling like a trespasser there.

Had he brought her here? Did she sleep in this bed? Did they talk about the future together? What does Joel think?

The last question to run through your mind catches you by surprise, a small gasp escaping your lips. What does Joel think?

If Tommy was stoic and gruff, Joel was downright intimidating. You’ve only seen him smile a few times, and you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard him laugh. He wasn’t, however, unkind, taking to calling you by the same nickname Tommy had, albeit a bit awkwardly at first. Like he couldn’t form his mouth around the languid, round letters - p e a c h. Angular as he was, he had always made you feel welcome, in his own, quiet way, teasing Tommy about you being out of his league. The familial resemblance was strong between the brothers, with their dark waves and warm eyes. But something about Joel made your soul clench, as if he had curved his fingers around your ribs and impressed himself upon your heart. He was comfortable, in a cloudy way — never revealing himself, but not pressuring you to, either. Amicable silence, as it were.

Thinking about Joel calling you out of Tommy’s league makes you scoff, now.

“The rich client with the kitchen remodel isn’t too out of his league, is she?” You mumble to yourself, cold water pooling between your palms.

“I don’t want it to end this way, peach.”

“I didn’t want it to end at all, Tommy.”

You bring the water to your face, scrubbing away the salt of dried tears and sting of betrayal.

The sun had dipped below the horizon when you wake up later on the couch. Fumbling for your phone with one hand, you rub your eyes with the other. As you check the time, your phone alerts you to two new text messages, delivered two hours ago.

Tommy Miller: Will you be home tonight? Tommy Miller: I need to stop by to get a few things.

Your hands tremble as you read and reread the messages. You rub your eyes again, unsure if you’re understanding the text in front of you clearly. It doesn’t change. Panic rises in your throat, searing and sour.

A vicious cross between fury and complete despair surges through you, and you drop your phone into your lap. Tears pinch at the backs of your eyes. Forget figuring out where to live, you hadn’t even considered how you’d next face Tommy.

I don’t want to see you, Tommy. Do you want to talk? I’ll be out, feel free to drop by. Please come home.

You weigh your options, constructing and dismantling multiple messages. Retrieving the phone, you pray he can’t see that abhorrent blue bubble that indicates you’re typing. That shows him you’re there.

As if he’d read your mind, your phone vibrates, his name and picture flashing on the screen. The picture gives you pause — a day you had spent on Lake Austin, the wind whipping through his hair, a broad smile on both of your faces. You feel like you’re going to be sick.

Focusing on your breathing, clenching your teeth, you accept the call.

“Hey, Tommy.” Your voice is small. So small. You feel your cheeks burn at how stupid you feel. You should be screaming at him — biting back the venom he instilled in you — but all you can manage is barely a whisper.

He sounds relieved. “Hey, peach. Didn’t know if I’d catch ya.”

You hum discontentedly. How can he be so cool about this?

“Uhhh, well, I, uh, need to stop by the apartment tonight to grab some things. Would that be okay?”

You don’t know what to say. Would it be okay?

“It’s your apartment.”

The response surprises you, that same venom bubbling over without your permission.

Tommy sighs.

“I don’t want it to be like this, darlin’. Can we talk? Please?”

“Can you make it here without sleeping with a client?”

Tommy laughs hollowly. “Guess I deserve that. Sassy today, huh?”

You picture him then, on Joel’s couch, fidgeting with the hem of his button down with his free hand. Pressed against the cushions, eyes to the ceiling. Gently annoyed with you for ignoring his texts. Football would be switched on in the background, and your heart thrums when you think of Joel being there, watching him. What does Joel think?

You clear your throat, refocusing your attention.

“Let’s get this over with, Tommy.”

Sassy, indeed.

It was easier to be hard over the phone, joined by nothing more than wires somewhere in space. But as Tommy stands in front of you now, elbows on the kitchen island, hands stretching towards you, all you feel is the velvety pull of attraction. The soft lull of two years spent shrouded in each other.

His voice is low, but soft — practically a purr.

“Baby. How do we move past this?”

You don’t meet his gaze, wrapping your arms around yourself. Looking at anything but him, anything but those warm eyes. You know that if you do, it will be over.

“Tommy…I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if it’s that easy. You had an affair. You didn’t forget to take the trash out, or-or-or make a shitty comment about my friends. You slept with someone! You had a relationship with her.” Your voice is measured, eyes dragging from the floor to the ceiling. Avoiding.

“What can I do, peach? Please, just tell me. I’ll do anything.”

“It doesn’t change what happened.” You cross your arms over your chest, defiant now. “It won’t change what happened.”

Exasperated, Tommy slams his hand on the counter, drawing his body to its full height. He’s broad — so broad — his shoulders squared.

“I get it, okay? I fucked up. You’ve made it clear. Joel has made it clear. I fuckin’ get it!” He clenches his fists, bringing them up to his face. “I fuckin’ get it.”

You drop your eyes instantly as your pulse quickens. “What do you mean, Joel made it clear?”

Tommy sighs, deeply, not removing his hands from his face. “Joel will barely fuckin’ talk to me. Can’t get more’n two words out of him. Said he doesn’t blame you for bein’ done with me. Said I know better. And you know what? Yeah, he’s right. I do. Can’t even argue with’m.”

You hum cooly in agreement, your pulse thrumming in your ears. There is a sudden acute awareness of the change taking place in your perception of Tommy following his words; he’s been wrenched open and put on display for you, and the need to step back from the jarring offering is nearly suffocating.

“Okay. Okay.” Hands falling to his waist, revealing his eyes. Bloodshot, tired. Surrendering, but sharp. His voice, softer now, velvet dipped in whiskey. “I’m sorry, peach. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am. I wish I could take it all back. I…I know I really fucked up.”

You hold his desperate gaze for a moment before lowering your eyes to the floor again.

“Tommy… ” His name splintering across your lips. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” That small voice again, cracking. Shattering. Sparkling pieces scattered across the kitchen floor around your feet. Meeting his offering with outstretched, empty palms. Nothing left to give.

He drops his head, tucking his chin to his chest, and exhales a shaky breath. “Okay, peach. I hear ya.”

You can see his eyes bright with unshed tears. This is the softness that you know, that you’ve craved. The hushed tenderness that you’d shared beneath bed sheets, woven between fingertips brushed against silk skin, delicate whispers in the dark of a once shared bedroom.

As good as strangers, now.

The silence settles between you, mourning both what once was and could have been.

When the door closes with Tommy on the other side of it, it feels final. An unfamiliar liquid sense of relief floods your veins, and you breathe deeply. For the first time in a week, you feel like you can suck in enough air to actually fill your lungs. You hadn’t recognized the somber, weepy creature you’d become, and you were sure no one else had, either. Ava had treated you like you were made of glass, afraid you would shatter at any moment. And as much as you had needed that, your stomach twisted into knots at feeling so helpless. Ending things with Tommy — officially — felt like giving yourself permission to dig out the shards and stitch the wound.

You take in the room around you - a blanket strewn across the arm of the couch, wine glasses littering the coffee table, bottles lined up on the floor in front of it. You shake your head, in something that feels a little like disbelief. The reality of leaving this apartment - your home - had begun to truly set in, but the question of where you would land hung heavy in the air.

Of course Kit would take you in, if she wasn’t multiple states and thousands of miles away. Ava was an option, having offered her couch to you almost the moment she found out, but you had leaned so heavily on her already that taking more would have made you feel too guilty. A hotel would be too expensive for an open-ended move out date, though the prospect of not having to make your own bed or wash your own sheets was tempting.

Dropping yourself onto the couch with a heavy sigh, you begin to aimlessly scroll through the contact list in your phone. You know, deep down, that it’s for show, though you don’t know for who. You know, too, that you’ll end up at Ava’s, despite your unwillingness to do so.

You lean back, pulling your legs up and stretching them across the cushions. Reaching across the empty wine glasses for the television remote, you click it on before throwing your arm over your eyes. You don’t care what’s on, you just need the sounds. Of people. Of laughing. Of life. Resigning yourself to calling Ava in the morning, you slip into a restless, dreamless sleep.

The Saturday morning sun finds you still curled up on the couch, your legs pulled close to your core. Without opening your eyes, you drop your hand to the floor, feeling for your phone. Finding it nestled partially beneath the frame of the couch, you bring it up to your face, cracking your eyes as little as possible to check the time. There’s a missed call, and when it catches your attention, your eyes fly open completely.

Joel Miller - 1 Missed Call & Voicemail

“What the fuuuuck… ” you mumble, swiping to your calls app and bringing the phone to your ear.

“Uh, hey peach. It’s Joel. Gimme a call back when you get this.”

You can’t quite place his tone of voice, and your hands tremble as your brain rolls through all the reasons he might be calling you. Did something happen? Is he angry that Tommy is still at his place? Is he angry that you ended it with Tommy? Is he going to try to convince you to take him back? You play the voicemail again, to see if you can catch any stormy inflections in his deep voice - though you glean nothing more than a hazy awareness of the hunger coursing through your blood when he speaks.

Finally sitting up and crossing your legs beneath you, you stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity. It’s not that Joel scares you, but you don’t know of any time that he’s called you for any reason. Worrying at your bottom lip with your teeth, you finally press the little image of a phone next to his name and wait for the call to connect.

“Yeah?” Joel’s tone is curt, and you can tell he’s at work based on the construction noises you hear in the background. It sets your teeth on edge. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself. Steeling your nerves.

“Heyjoelit’s-” you manage to squeak, before you recognize the quiet way his breath hitches.

“Peach.” and he’s soft. So soft. Softer than you’ve ever known him to be. And it’s your name on his tongue; honeyed and heavenly. You could drown in it.

“Hi,” you whisper. “I’m just…returning your call.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, but you hear the opening and closing of a door, the groan of an office chair, and then silence. You would think he’d hung up if you couldn’t hear his deep, even breathing.

“Peach,” he finally says again, and your skin flares. He clears his throat. “I—there’s— you doin’ okay?” His words are rushed, clumsy, as if he’s trying to get them all out at once. The thought that Joel Miller has anything to say to you, much less too much to say to you, clouds your mind. “Could kill Tommy. Fuckin’ bastard.”

You laugh once, idly. “I’m holdin’ it together, Joel.”

“Attagirl.”

Your skin prickles, and you draw in a surprised gasp.

He continues, unaware of the change in your breathing. “Look, I, uh, know you’re busy, so I’ll get t’the point. I’ve got an extra room. For you. If ya want it, I mean. I know you’re tryin’ to get out of Tommy’s place, and I’m not lookin’ to rush you or anythin’, just..wanted to offer it up. Rent free, ‘n all that.” You imagine him running his hands through his hair as he stumbles through his speech, clenching his teeth. “Least I could do, with my brother bein’ the dickhead he is.”

Oh. It’s pity — he feels sorry for you. You bite your tongue, sink your fingernails into your palm, force yourself to focus through the haze in your eyes. Stupid. Stupid girl.

“Joel, I—”

“I know ya probably have friends you can stay with. I’m not tryin’ t’be weir — peach, is this weird?” He’s lost in his own thoughts, but stops abruptly when the question escapes. He sounds just as surprised by it as you are.

It hangs in the air between you for a moment, and you relish just slightly in the idea that he’s floundering.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.” you reply, gently. “I’m okay to figure something out on my own. I’m a big girl.”

“Oh, peach, no. No.” His response is quick, and firm; without any hesitancy, or a second thought. “Don’t for a minute think I don’t know how capable y’are. I know you can, I just don’t want you to have to.”

His words sizzle across your flesh, urgent and pleading. They leave you feeling dazed, unsure of the reality of the conversation. Your eyes flick to the furnishings of the apartment, desperate for something to ground you. Trepidation clutches at your throat, rendering you speechless.

Joel shifts in his chair, and you hear him let out a long breath. “I- I know we don’t know each other. I feel like I’m scarin’ you, darlin’.”

You shake your head, grasping for what to say. Chest tightening at the thought of his worry, the words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them. “What would Tommy say?”

It feels like a condemnation; speaking it aloud, between the two of you. As if it would make Joel suddenly realize how wrong it was, to ask this of you. To offer this to you.

“Tommy doesn’t get to say anythin’.” His whisper-soft tone now a growl, clawing at your insides. It covers you from head to toe, and you feel, for the first time in a very long time, shielded from the hurt. A hurt that exceeded the past week, or Tommy entirely. A hurt that was buried so far inside yourself that the aching reminder it even existed left you reeling. Tears prick at the back of your eyes, and you silently scold yourself for crying again.

The silence on the phone is comfortable, as if Joel knows that you’re digesting everything he’s saying. True to his word, he’s not rushing you — just sharing the space with you, allowing you to take it all in.

A loud knocking sounds from his end, and it snaps you out of your trance.

“Shit, sorry peach. I gotta go.” He sounds further away, muffled; the intimacy of the conversation shattered, as if you had imagined it altogether.

Then, abruptly, his warm, inviting timbre restored: “Please think about it. Bye, darlin’.”

“I mean, are you thinking about it?” Ava questions, her eyes on the shirt she’s folding. She’s cross legged on the floor, while you stack books in the cardboard box at your feet.

It hadn’t occurred to you how little you had to call your own, until you had to put it all in boxes.

You don’t respond to Ava’s question immediately, instead chewing on your bottom lip gently. Turning it over and over in your mind, formulating the most diplomatic response.

“How bad would it be if I was?” You avoid her eyes, which you know have turned to daggers at your back.

It’s her turn to mull the question over, bobbing her head side to side as she considers.

“Tommy’d be pissed.” It’s pointed, but not malicious. Honest. “But…we don’t care what Tommy thinks anymore, do we?”

You drop your head, smiling mildly behind the curtain of your hair. No, we in fact, do not.

“Plus, he’s very…handsome.” Ava chooses her words carefully, but you know to read between the lines: Joel is fuckin’ hot. “The whole ‘older man’ thing really works for you, babe.”

“Kit would be more upset than Tommy, I guarantee it.” You laugh softly, unable to help yourself. You get cheated on by someone more than fifteen years older than you, and immediately move in with someone even older? You imagine your sister tutting at you, ever the mother-figure.

“No doubt.” Ava rolls her eyes affectionately as you turn to her. You plant your hands on your hips and survey the bedroom around you. “Seriously, though, how would the…logistics of living with Joel work? Would you, like, have dinner together? Hang out? Be friends?”

You laugh, despite the anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t know, Av. I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’m kind of hung up on the whole ‘moving in with my ex-boyfriend’s brother’ part of it all.”

Now it’s her turn to plant her hands at her hips. “Are we still harboring some feelings about Tommy Miller, doll?” Her eyebrow quirks.

“Av! Come on. We spent two years together! I’m not just gonna get over it like that.” You snap your fingers before bending down to close the now-full box below you.

“You know what they say…the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Ava waggles her eyebrows, and you laugh, full-bellied, at her levity. “You’re a fox, girl. Believe it or not.”

You roll your eyes, shoving the box out of the door of the bedroom, into the hallway.

“And he’ll be helping you move all this, right? To his house?”

“Nope!” you chirp brightly, “that would be you, babe!”

Kit, as you had anticipated, is not thrilled about the idea of you moving in with Joel. You call her from your office phone on Monday morning, gripping the receiver so hard your knuckles are white.

“Are you kidding? How are you even entertaining the idea?” Her voice is unflinching, and you tap the fingers of your free hand against your desktop, mildly annoyed.

“I’m 28, Kit.” You remind her, as you always do. “I’m the one who would deal with the fallout. Not you. Besides, it’s not like I have a ton of options.”

She scoffs, and you can imagine her rolling her eyes. “So you’ve told him yes, then?”

“No! That’s why I’m…taking a survey. Feeling it out.” You mumble, “You’re obviously not on board.”

Kit sighs, drawn out and heavy. “I know you don’t care what I think. I know you’re an adult. I just…worry about you. I’m so far away, and if anything happened…”

You cut her off. “I appreciate that. A lot. But at some point, I have to take care of myself.”

“I don’t think moving in with a 50 year old man qualifies as taking care of yourself.” She’s trying to be delicate, you can tell, but her remark is biting.

Twirling the phone cord around your fingers, you purse your lips.

“Why don’t you come stay with us for a bit? Maybe an extended vacation?” You can picture the sticky countertops, loud toys, an uncomfortable pullout couch. And Kit’s husband, awkward and gangly, never shutting up about ‘the economy’. Kit sounds somewhat hopeful, though, and it makes your heart quiver.

“Kit…I can’t leave my job. The one stable thing I have going for me.”

“They have finance jobs here.”

“I’m not letting Tommy run me out of Austin.” You echo Ava’s words, an indignant feeling rising in your chest. “I’ve got a whole career here. This is…a minor setback. If I do move in with Joel, it won’t be for forever.”

She laughs softly, but you clock the reluctance.

“I promise. I’m okay. I am okay. I will be okay.”

Kit pauses. “You’ll tell me if you’re not?”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course.”

“Well,” she clicks her tongue against her teeth, “best of luck, peach. It sounds like you have your mind made up.”

You shove the last box into the back of your Subaru, and dust your hands off on your leggings.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re okay with this, Joel?”

“Yes. Stop askin’ me.”

“If I’m too much, at all, I don’t have to stay.”

“Peach.” It’s a warning. “It’s Tommy that I need out of my space.”

Calling Joel back to accept his offer had been harder than every other aspect of moving out of Tommy’s apartment. Once you and Ava had packed all of your belongings, you stood back to observe — and it was like you had never lived there in the first place. The only thing that truly felt different about the space was that you knew you didn’t live there anymore. You feel a pang in your chest thinking about how Tommy would feel without you there — you didn’t know if him missing you or not missing you would be worse.

“Anything left?” Silas, Ava’s boyfriend-du-jour asks, from your elbow.

You shake your head, pulling down the hatch to close the back of the car. “Just the key. Which you don’t have to stick around for.” You give him a watery smile, feeling the weight of the day through every muscle in your body.

He nods. “Cool, cool. I’ll grab Ava. We can meet you over there?”

You hum in agreement before turning back to the building. Going up the steps to the second floor feels mechanical, a recreation of the thousands of times you’ve done it before, and your legs carry you automatically. The last time, now. Pulling in a large breath, you exhale through your nose, centering yourself while you click the door open.

Sunlight streams through the windows, bathing everything in the late afternoon light. You glaze your eyes over the room, not searching for anything forgotten, but committing it to memory one final time. You recognize that it feels less like a chapter closing and more like a freefall into something entirely unknown — into the mouth of something that lurks beneath the surface, teeth gnashing, ready to consume.

Leaving the key on the kitchen island feels like an offering to that dark entity, but you’re ready — willing — to tumble headfirst into it. So you do, with no grandeur, and no looking back, just a deep breath out and the millstone around your neck lifted.

Joel’s truck isn’t in the driveway when you arrive at his house. Ava is posted up against her car, Silas still in the driver’s seat, arm out the window at her waist. You wave as you pull up, masking the fear radiating through your extremities.

You throw the Subaru into park, and Ava jogs over to meet you. Her eyes are wide, but kind, as you close the door behind you.

“Okay?” She asks, her hand gentle on your arm.

You nod, swallowing hard. “Feels kinda surreal, Av. But I’m good.”

Brushing her off, you make your way to the front door. There’s an envelope clipped to the mailbox, ‘peach’ scribbled on the front of it, and your hands shake as you grasp it.

‘I wanted to give you some space while you got settled. Your key is in the envelope. Make yourself at home — I’ll check on you in the morning. —Joel’

Your heart flutters as you pull out a house key, with a keychain in the shape of a peach threaded through the top of it. Your breath catches in your chest as you run the metal through your fingers, tightening them around it. If Tommy’s key had been an anchor, Joel’s feels like a lifesaver.

Blinking back tears, hands still shaking, you slide the key into the lock and twist.

Eat your heart out, Tommy Miller.

#my therapist would be so proud of me for actually posting this #joel x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #joel miller tlou #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal fanfic #tommy x reader #joel miller x f!reader

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bradshawsbaby · 2 years

Text

Pool Day

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: I’ve been meaning to write more stories about the Bradshaw family, especially now that I’ve been going wild with Bradshaw baby fever, so here’s a simple little summer fluff piece!

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, Goose and Lydia Bradshaw being really adorable, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw being the cutest dad ever.

(Peak Dad!Rooster energy in this gif!)

“Mommy, I want to swim!” Lydia exclaimed, wiggling in your arms as you tried to lather her in sunscreen. At three years old, your daughter already had a mind of her own and she wasn’t afraid to show it.

“I know you want to swim, sweetie, but I need to make sure you have your sunscreen on first,” you explained patiently, keeping a firm hold on the toddler. Much like her father, she hardly knew how to stand still.

“Why?” she pouted, huffing slightly, which forced you to bite back a smile. That was her new favorite question. Goose had been exactly the same at her age.

“So you don’t get a sunburn,” you told her, gently rubbing some of the Water Babies sunscreen onto her arms. “Remember when Daddy had those red marks all over his nose and cheeks?” you asked, thinking back to the sunburn Bradley had acquired just last week during one of his training exercises.

Lydia nodded, covering her mouth with her tiny hands as she giggled in merriment. “Daddy looked silly!” she laughed, standing still long enough that you were able to quickly coat the rest of her exposed skin in sunscreen.

“That was a sunburn. And it doesn’t feel good, so that’s why we put sunscreen on. It keeps us nice and safe from the sun,” you said, holding up the bottle of lotion for your daughter to see.

Looking up at the sky curiously, she asked, “Is the sun mean?”

“No, sweetheart,” you laughed, pulling her into your arms and adjusting the straps on her watermelon bathing suit. You’d just purchased it for her a few days ago and she’d insisted on wearing it today. “The sun is very nice. But it’s also very strong, so we just have to make sure we protect our skin so that we don’t end up looking silly like Daddy,” you grinned, tickling her belly lightly.

“Mommy!” Lydia exclaimed, laughing brightly. The sound of it made your heart soar. There was nothing quite like the sound of your children’s laughter. Smiling, your daughter rested her hands on your belly, exposed in the bikini you were wearing and rounded from your third pregnancy. “Can I tickle the baby?”

Tucking some of your daughter’s hair behind her ear, you smiled down at her. “The baby won’t be able to feel it yet, my love. But soon,” you promised her, rubbing a hand over your stomach.

Lydia looked like she was going to ask another question when your five-year-old son’s voice suddenly broke through the crowd. “Mommy! Lyddie! Look!” Goose shouted, standing on the edge of the pool and waving his arms wildly to get your attention. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, sopping wet with a beaming smile on his face. He’d been particularly proud of the new swim trunks you’d bought him, the ones with the little airplanes all over them.

“We’re watching!” you called back, shielding your eyes with your hand so that you could observe him better.

“Look! Look!” Goose said again in an excited voice, jumping off the side of the pool and straight into your husband’s waiting arms. As soon as your son was successfully in the water, Bradley lifted him up into the air, cheering loudly.

“Did you see?” Goose cried proudly, wiping the water out of his face as he searched for you and Lydia once more.

“Way to go, baby!” you cheered loudly, clapping your hands ecstatically, which made him beam.

“Go, Goose!” Lydia cried, bouncing up and down on her small feet. “Mommy, I want to swim with Daddy and Goose!”

“Okay, sweetie, okay,” you nodded, reaching for her floaties. Your daughter had a lot of confidence in the water, especially for a toddler, but she wasn’t yet quite as adept as her big brother. “Here you go,” you murmured, gently sliding them up her arms. Taking her hand, you led her over to the side of the pool where Bradley and Goose were waiting.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Lydia called out, waving eagerly to her father with what could only be considered the world’s brightest smile.

“There’s my angel!” Bradley exclaimed, opening up his arms wide to her.

Giggling and completely without fear, Lydia jumped off the edge of the pool and straight into your husband’s arms. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, laughing even more loudly when he peppered her cheek with kisses.

“Daddy! That tickles,” Lydia told him, her laughter echoing across the pool deck all the while.

“Mommy, come swim with us!” Goose told you, paddling comfortably in the water beside Bradley and Lydia.

“Mommy’s trying to work on her tan,” Bradley teased, winking at you as he slowly lowered Lydia into the water, her floaties keeping her head well above the surface.

You stuck your tongue out at him playfully, resting a hand on your swollen belly. You still had a few months left to go, but after already having had two babies, you were certainly showing. “I’ll put my feet in for now,” you replied, walking over to the steps so that you could more easily lower yourself down to the edge of the pool.

“Be careful, baby,” Bradley told you immediately, lifting your daughter up in one arm so that he could quickly wade over to you and hold onto your hand as you slowly sat down.

Watching his father’s actions like a hawk, as he always did, Goose quickly swam over as well and grabbed your other hand. “There you go, Mommy!” he said proudly.

“Thank you, baby!” you beamed, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I mean, I helped a little, too,” Bradley joked, feigning hurt until you laughingly leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek as well.

“My two men. What would I do without you?” you asked, smiling between your husband and your son.

“Mommy, look! Daddy’s face!” Lydia declared with a laugh, poking at Bradley’s cheeks, which were already turning pink from his time in the sun.

“Hmm, just like I said,” you grinned, winking at your husband. “Goose, honey, could you go grab the sunscreen from my bag?” you asked, watching carefully as your son hurried off to complete his little task. Once he returned, you crooked your finger at Bradley, smiling as your husband dutifully waded over to you. “Alright, Lyddie, think you can rub that in for Daddy?” you asked the three-year-old once you had smeared light streaks of sunscreen on his cheeks.

Nodding excitedly, Lydia swiped at the sunscreen until the white streaks were mostly gone. “There, Daddy!” she announced, kissing his nose.

“Thank you, my love,” Bradley told her, resting an affectionate hand on your knee before moving back out into the water.

After you reapplied some sunscreen to your son’s face, he, too, hurried off to catch up with his father and sister.

Sitting comfortably with your feet submerged in the cool water, you took a deep breath and tried to soak up all the simple joys of the day. You and Bradley had become members of this pool club a few years ago, when Goose was a baby, and it was one of the best investments you had made. The kids were able to take swimming lessons, there was a playground for them to run around in, and the club often hosted barbecues and other fun events throughout the summer. Plus, you had guest passes, so you were able to bring friends and family whenever you wanted.

Resting your hand on your belly, you could feel the baby kicking lightly and it made you smile. “Do you want to be playing with everyone, too?” you asked softly, beaming at the sight of Bradley playing enthusiastically with your children. They were currently hanging off his arms, laughing loudly as he spun them around in the water. They just adored him. And so did you. He made every day so special.

“Is that your family?” an older woman asked as she approached the steps, looking ready to climb out of the pool. She was pointing at Bradley, Goose, and Lydia.

“Yes,” you nodded with a smile, rubbing your stomach without conscious thought.

“Ah, and another one on the way, I see,” the older woman said kindly, smiling at you. “Congratulations! You have a very beautiful family,” she added.

“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” you replied sincerely, your face splitting into another huge grin. You were lucky and you knew it.

“A very handsome husband, too,” the woman whispered conspiratorially, winking and chuckling as she tapped you on the shoulder on her way out of the pool.

“Oh, trust me, I know,” you laughed, waving to her as she walked away.

After a few more hours in the pool, which you eventually came into at Goose’s insistence, the kids finally tuckered themselves out enough that you were able to convince them it was time to head home.

Bradley wrapped the kids in their towels and then drew them into a huge bear hug, making them both laugh as lifted them up into his arms and claimed he was shaking all the water off them.

“I could do the same for you if you need, baby,” he told you with a wink, wrapping his arms around you as you finished packing up the pool bag.

“That’s quite alright,” you laughed, swatting his stomach playfully as everyone finished gathering their belongings.

Goose and Lydia fell asleep within five minutes of being in the car, so you and Bradley carried them in your arms once you got home.

“Are you sure, baby? You can stay here in the car and I’ll make two trips,” Bradley said in concern, obviously not wanting you to have to carry Lydia up the stairs.

“I’m fine,” you whispered with a smile, rubbing your daughter’s back. “Moms are superheroes, you know,” you added with a grin, nudging him softly.

“Oh, I know,” Bradley smiled, following you up to your apartment.

The kids were truly exhausted after a long day in the sun. They barely made a peep as you and Bradley got them ready for bed and tucked them in. Once they were both fast asleep under the covers, you and Bradley took a breather in the kitchen.

“There’s definitely some ice cream still in the freezer,” Bradley told you, waggling his eyebrows with a grin.

“It’s like you read my mind,” you laughed, grabbing the container and two spoons from the drawer. The two of you loved sitting in the kitchen together, sharing ice cream straight out of the carton.

“Our kids are so lucky to have you as their dad,” you told him suddenly, taking another bite of ice cream.

“They’re lucky to have both of us,” he replied, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“I love you, baby,” you murmured softly, running your fingers over his slightly sunburned cheeks.

“Right back at you, baby,” Bradley winked, leaning over to kiss you tenderly.

#miles teller #top gun: maverick #top gun #x reader #x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 3

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: General audiences, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 16.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Flirting, discussions of deceased soulmates. Not too many warnings for this one, although Jack and shopping is a personal fantasy of mine. Summary: A party and a day out together give you some time to get to know Jack a little bit better. Notes: Sorry for the post delay this week, everyone, but thank you all for being so supportive. Health is a struggle but fiction is a beautiful escape.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Jack eyes Champ, frowning slightly at the older man as he shoots him a grin across the room. He's been cagey lately, smirking at him like he knows a secret that he won't tell Jack. Something that he knows drives the senior agent crazy. Instead of walking across the room and demanding he tell him what is on his mind, Jack turns towards you. Watching as you meet Ginger's soulmate, Gabriella.

Just a little get together, Diana had said when she called you, smiling down the phone as she issued the invitation. To celebrate! Well, Diana’s idea of small was two or three dozen people - all Statesman employees and their families - gathered at the Rogers’ house for a weekend barbecue. It seems like the whirlwind of introductions may never stop, but this bright and happy woman named Gabriella and the two children that she seems to be an expert at wrangling just put you at ease. Introducing yourself seems a little redundant since this is a party to welcome you specifically, but the kids don’t care - just as kids tend not to. They wave hello and ask their mother if they can go play with the other kids, and are off like a shot the instant they get a ‘yes’.

“They’re sweet,” you say, smiling despite how much you miss your niece and nephew. It’s only been five days since you saw them last, but that’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing them ever.

"They are wild." Gabriella corrects you with a laugh, looking after her kids with the fondness of a parent of someone well accustomed to their antics. "But they promised to behave under threat of torture."

“I wish that worked on my nephew.” When she pats the arm of the chair beside her, you sit down gratefully. Deciding to dress up for this party shouldn’t have included heels, that’s your own fault. “When my niece is finally old enough to be his sidekick, everyone’s going to be in trouble.”

"Menaces, huh?" She chuckles and sips her spiked lemonade before she shrugs, keeping an eye on her own troublemakers. "That just means they will have each other's backs when they are older."

“I hope so.” They have good examples to follow, at least, with how close you are to your siblings. Even if you’re not physically close to each other anymore. “So…this is what counts as a ‘little’ get together around here?” Diana had poured you a spiked lemonade a few moments ago, and you’d added peach nectar as your fruit flavor of choice from the bar of fruit flavored syrups and liqueurs by the large bar set up in the kitchen counter. It’s the best lemonade you’ve ever had in your life.

"Any excuse to have a party is Diana's reason for living." Gabriella jokes, motioning to where she is fluttering around talking to people with the largest smile on her face. Her husband ambles behind her, much slower in pace as he allows her to do as she pleases with a fond smile on his own face and a whiskey in his hand.

“A woman after my own heart,” you laugh, looking over in time to see a young man maybe a few years younger than yourself receive an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek and be shooed inside with lipstick on his cheek. “Their son?” It’s not exactly a stretch to guess. He has Champ’s stance and his mother’s thick head of hair.

"Bobby." She confirms with a nod. "He’s back home for a bit after being overseas for the last two years."

“Something fun, I hope.” But you won’t pry, enjoying the easy atmosphere on this sunny afternoon.

"Oh yeah, he's been traveling for Statesman and has been a little homesick." She murmurs, aware that you aren't aware of the real reason for international travel from some of the Statesman employees. Her wife had filled her in before the party.

“I like that it’s a family operation.” Turning back to Gabriella, you take a sip of your lemonade and smile. “Do you mind if I ask how long you’ve been here?” You don’t know their story - her and Astrid - but as the newest arrival to what Champ and Diana jovially call ‘the Statesman family’ you feel like you want to know everything.

Gabriella smiles, looking over at Astrid with stars in her eyes. “We found each other about seven years ago. Damn lucky honestly. What with–” She bites her lip, knowing she shouldn’t say the real reason. “Astrid doesn’t have any scars.”

“I noticed that a lot of people don’t seem to have tattoos, either.” It’s just a vague observation, but coming from the culinary world where so many of your coworkers have large pieces or even whole sleeves, it surprises you. “I guess I’m alone in that one.”

“Yeah.” Gabriella gives a slightly nervous chuckle. “There’s actually an incentive to have them removed here. You should look into it. If you want, of course.” If she could get you to remove the tattoos without any suspicion, Jack would be in the clear.

“Why would I want to do that?” Your left hand moves protectively to cover your right elbow, and you think back to your contract to make sure you haven't glazed over anything. There had certainly been a dress code portion of the employee handbook, but nothing about tattoos or piercings. Not even a note on ‘acceptable’ hair colors.

“I meant no offense.” She immediately back pedals and gives a small smile. “I’ve just known plenty of people here who have decided they don't want their tattoos anymore. People change what they once liked…you know.”

“Oh, sure.” That’s true, certainly, and you relax a little. “I guess that’s fair. I just can’t see a single reason I would want to get rid of mine. I just made sure to get it in a place that I could cover, ya know? Just in case. Some fine dining restaurants don’t like to have them showing.”

“Of course.” She bobbles her head quickly, not wanting to alienate you with a thoughtless comment. She wasn’t supposed to know that you are Jack’s soulmate but Astrid had let it slip. “I know all about the ‘professional’ world. I was in the corporate rat race before I found Astrid.”

“Then that makes you a much braver woman than I.” You laugh and sit back in your chair. “I don’t know how you survived it, honestly.” All that corporate nonsense does nothing for you and it never has - no part of your extraordinary life is ever going to revolve around file numbers.

“Oh I’m much happier now with our little house to keep and our kids to wrangle.” She promises. “And just listening to Astrid talk about work gives me all the adventure I could ever want.”

“It’s not that little.” No, you see their house in the walk to work every morning now, and it certainly isn’t petite like yours is. Not that you need more than that for just you and the Dormouse. “You’ve got your slice of heaven, I think. It’s kind of…” You shrug, figuring you’re probably over sharing, but it’s always coming out of your mouth. “Kind of what I always wanted. That idyllic family life.”

“I never knew I wanted it.” Gabriella has no problem admitting that she had never imagined domestic bliss or being a stay-at-home mom when she was climbing the corporate ladder. “Now, I couldn’t imagine anything else.”

“I wouldn’t give up my career for anything.” Anybody who asked you to would be in for a rude awakening. “But a family? That’s…that’s still the dream.” Even with your soulmate, the idea of finding someone isn’t ridiculous. Plenty of people do it every day…right?

“I understand.” Gabriella looks over to where her youngest has spotted Jack and is currently climbing up his leg. Jack smiles and laughs as he swings the boy up onto his shoulders, but there is the underlying sadness underneath. “Sometimes the dreams are all you have.”

“Sometimes they are.” Too lost in your own melancholy overlong losing your soulmate, you don’t see Gabriella’s eyes move to Jack with her son. You don’t even notice Astrid and Tex step up onto the porch together.

“Well, look at you.” Tex whistles as he looks you up and down. “Ain’t you pretty as a picture? You having fun?”

“Hey you.” The sound of his voice is familiar - one of the only things that is familiar around here - and you perk up a little to see two familiar faces. “You made it.” To be honest, you didn’t really know who Diana had invited, but you figured it was a good chance that Tex would be here considering he had been your flight companion and part of your testing team. He seems to be involved in everything the same way Jack is.

“Damn near didn’t.” Tequila admits. “Amsterda—” He cuts off abruptly and shakes his head. “I mean, an armadillo managed to get into one of the storage houses.” He covers his slip up with a mile wide grin. “But I made it.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen you in days?” You pop up from your seat to give him a hug and choose not to say anything about the fact that he was definitely about to say something else. “Because of an armadillo?”

“Tricky suckers.” He huffs, giving you an extra squeeze before he lets go of you. Gabriella sends Astrid a pointed look and then glances at Tequila.

“If I find one in my garden, I’m calling you.” It’s barely a threat, and you don’t have a proper garden yet, but you’ll get there eventually.

“You can call me even if you don’t.” Tex tells you, making Astrid clear her throat and capture everyone’s attention. “Should we get something to eat?” She asks when your head turns towards her.

“Lead the way.” Champ seems to have deputized his son to help him look after the large grill on the other side of the yard, and Jack is nearby with a drink in hand when the four of you approach together.

Astrid and Gabriella whisper together ahead of you as you make your way towards the tables laden down with sides and desserts. None of them yours yet, but a potluck off all those who wanted to contribute.

“I wish Diana hadn’t insisted on just being a guest.” Walking beside Tex, you look over at the table of various desserts with affection. Sweets are what you do, after all. “I would have made a couple of cakes to bring.”

"You aren't supposed to bring food to your own shindig." Jack huffs, walking up toward the group and nods towards you. "It's not how it's done here in the south, sugar."

“I guess I have a few things to learn.” You half step forward to offer him a hug, having left things on a good note after your night at the bar earlier in the week, but you’re not still quite sure what Jack thinks of you and you don’t want to make things weird - so instead you end up just stepping forward awkwardly and looking like your arms don’t work properly. “How have you been, Jack?”

He knows that you are expecting a hug and doesn't know quite how to ask for one. It's slightly awkward, especially since Jack just came back from the funeral of your former soulmate. It had taken a couple of days for his family to be notified and then another week for the body to be shipped back to his hometown. Jack hadn't introduced himself, just stood off a respectful distance while the man he had taken a future from had been lowered into the ground. "As good as I can be." He tells you, looping his arm around you and squeezing you to his side in a friendly manner, although his hand is lower than appropriate on your waist.

“I hope nothing’s wrong?” The side hug is a little awkward but there’s warmth to it - or at least there is to you. It wouldn’t be the first time you imagined that someone enjoyed your company more than they actually did. “Sweets can solve any myriad of problems, you know.”

"Nothing that a party with everyone I care about can't fix." Jack hums, a flash of pain that seems bittersweet and vague for Abigail not being here is almost as a reflex now. He suppresses it and grins. "But I'm eager for another sample of your cakes."

“I’m going to start working on the menu next week,” you tell everyone, chest absolutely bursting with pride. “So I’m going to need everybody to stop by the kitchen a couple of times to try out what I’ll be baking. As many times as you want to come by, I’d love to get the feedback.”

"Everyday." The promise pops out of his lips before he could ever even think about not speaking.

Not expecting such an immediate and earnest response, you practically beam. “Then I’ll start with cakes. By the end of the week you’ll never want to go near buttercream again.”

"Don't tell him that." Tequila rolls his eyes and shoulder checks Jack playfully. "This man keeps bags of candy in his desk all the time."

“Oh yeah?” You raise an eyebrow at Jack and smirk. “What’s your favorite?” Sometimes the smallest thing can be a big inspiration, so you’re never going to shy away from asking the question.

Jack frowns at Tequila for ratting him out and huffs. "I like Snickers." He admits with a modest shrug of his shoulders.

“Noted.” The urge to do something in Jack’s honor on your menu is seemingly expanding far beyond his affinity for your tea sandwiches, but on the outside all you do is smile. You haven’t had a crush like this in ages, and it doesn’t help that you’re nursing one for Tex at the same time.

"I like Zero bars." Tex adds, his brows lifted hopefully as he pushes his hands into his pockets. He really likes you, drawn to you in a way he hasn't felt before and he wants to ask you out.

“Which are, arguably, a white chocolate version of a Snickers.” It starts to turn your wheels even more, wondering if you can’t do something with caramel and peanuts that uses two types of chocolate.

"I keep telling you that." Jack smirks at Tex and shakes his head. "Boy doesn't know anything."

“It just means they can work well together.” Completely oblivious to any undertones in the conversation, you just shrug your shoulders and let your wheels grind on a recipe idea while the group of you moves up along the picnic tables to get something to eat.

Tequila frowns at Jack but he doesn’t feel guilty. The boy needs to sniff around somewhere else. It’s obvious you aren’t interested and you’re grieving your soulmate.

“What in the hell is going on?” Ginger whispers, hiding in Jack’s ear as Gabriella and Tequila whisk you toward one end of the tables to the immense batch of tamales that Ginger’s wife made for the occasion.

“What are you talking about?” Jack asks, feigning ignorance. “We’re at a party. That’s what’s going on.”

“You and Tequila.” She fixes him with a frown and pushes her glasses up on her nose a little. “You’re not normally this subtle, I’ll give you that. But it’s like watching peacocks.”

“Peacocks?” Jack frowns and looks over at where you and Tequila have your heads together over the table and there are the sounds of laughter. “You’re imagining things.” He scoffs. “Nobody’s actin’ like a peacock. Just bein’ friendly to the girl.”

“Jack.” Ginger frowns. She wears her cover for her friends on her sleeve and makes no apologies for it. “I know you might not…all things considered, I get it. Not saying anything to her. But please tell me that you told him?”

“Sure I did.” Jack nods, rolling his eyes. “Showed him the damn tattoos the day Champ benched me.”

“But you’re sure he knows it’s her?” She asks, searching his face with concern. When he rolls his eyes, her eyes pinch shut immediately. “It’s February, Jack. It might be warm enough for a backyard barbecue, but we’re all still wearing long sleeves.”

“Come on Ging– he went to pick her up.” Jack scoffs. “Don’t you think Champ told him that he was on an escort mission for my supposed soulmate?

“Honestly?” She shrugs, biting the inside of her lip while she thinks. “I think Champ told as few people as possible. So maybe he didn’t.” There is nothing supposed about you, but this isn’t the moment for that argument.

“Don’t see why it matters.” Liar. The voice in his head screams it but Jack just ignores it and forges ahead. “They are friendly. End of story.”

“If you say so.” The last thing she wants is to start an argument, so she’ll let it go for now. But Ginger knows Jack and Tequila and she knows their habits - and you’re getting at least one request for a date for Valentine’s Day next week. She just doesn’t know which one of them will be first.

Jack is happy she’s willing to drop it. Uncomfortable with the conversation, although he does side eye Tequila before he dismisses it. It’s not like he has a claim over you even if it was true. You aren’t his soulmate and there’s no way he’s yours. Not when his heart died years ago.

It takes two full plates before you’re finally stuffed, sitting in the afternoon sun in Champ’s backyard as most of the party has migrated indoors in anticipation of that same sun setting. There are still a few stragglers outside and you’re happy to be one of them - enjoying the sun’s rays while they’re still there to beat down on you. It’s been a lively afternoon and you’ve met a lot of very nice people, but stealing a few minutes alone has been nice, too.

Jack notices you off alone, nursing his beer as he watches you. Wondering what you think about this place, everyone here. He huffs to himself and stands, closing the gap between the two of you with no clue as to why. “Appreciating the silence or wantin’ some company?” He asks, knowing that if you want to be alone he’ll respect that.

“I wouldn’t say no to company.” Shifting to one side on the little bench you’ve been occupying, you make room for him to sit. You’ve always come to the conclusion that it would take a hell of a lot for you to say no to Jack.

He tries to tell himself that he shouldn’t be so pleased that you accepted his presence, but that doesn’t stop the quiet pride filling his chest. “No regrets so far?” He asks, looking over the party. Champ would have found something to make you stay, but he’s curious as to you wanting to be here. “Get your stuff easy enough?”

“I’m planning on running out tomorrow for a few things, but honestly the house is great.” It’s not like you owned that much to begin with, and the house came fully furnished. You’re just going to go wandering around housewares stores tomorrow to pick up some personal touches and to try some local restaurants while you’re out. “Everybody’s been so nice. Astrid actually sent flowers after I settled in, and Champ’s given me a key to the restaurant so I can be in the kitchen whenever I want. It’s all…pretty perfect.”

Jack knows that Champ might have put a tracker in the keys that he gave you. But he doesn’t like the idea of you going to town without some protection. “Want some company? Tomorrow?” Jack hears the edge to his voice and scolds himself for acting like an idiot. “I mean, I’ve got some errands to run and you can put whatever you buy into the back of the Bronco.” He tells himself that he’s responsible, at least until your tattoo on his skin goes away. Still convinced it’s the universe’s idea of a sick joke.

“You wouldn’t mind?” It’s not flirting, you remind yourself, although your heart does seem to pick up speed a little at the offer. “I mean…I was going to have lunch out while I was picking things up. So…my treat? As a thank you for driving?”

It’s his immediate reaction to protest. To remind you that his daddy would box his ears, but he catches your eyes. Pride. He’s more than a little familiar with the trait and he sees that you aren’t one to just expect someone to go and do. That you need to contribute to the outing. So he nods. “If you want, I can take you to my favorite country kitchen.” He offers. “They do a buffet of all the things folks love around here. Give you a feel for the area.”

“I’d love that.” It’s exactly the kind of thing you were hoping to find for yourself, but doing it with him sounds infinitely better. “Most of what I know about Southern cooking comes from my grandma, so I definitely want to try as many local places as I can.”

“Best food ever, although, come hungry.” He warns you. “They will be asking why you aren’t going back for thirds.”

“You’re assuming I wouldn’t happily eat thirds,” you laugh, amused by his serious tone. “I’ll go back every week if it’s that good.”

“Have you ever had cornbread so thin it’s like a pancake and fried until it’s crispy on the edges?” Jack asks you with a grin.

“We have something like that at home.” Johnnycakes are a New England classic, and you fell in love with the quick and tasty cornmeal pancakes during culinary school. “But I can’t wait to try the Southern version.” It sounds like it would be perfect for a caviar service if the tea room ever got that fancy…

“That with a piece of catfish fried to perfection is just like momma used to make.” He confides, winking at you playfully.

“Sounds like heaven.” One of these days you really have to stop shivering whenever he winks at you. But it won’t be today.

“That sounds like a plan.” Jack hates shopping, but he’s not going to let you go out to town by yourself. Or with Tequila, although he knows the boy is leaving on another mission.

“I haven’t lived on my own for a while, so there’s just some finishing touches I don’t have,” you explain, wondering why you feel the need to actually explain yourself at all. It just sort of…compels itself out of your mouth.

“Oh?” It almost startles him how quickly he focuses on that. “Lived with a lover?” He asks. “Statesman will let you bring someone to live with you if you’re trying the long distance thing. It doesn’t work - trust me.”

“I know it doesn’t.” While you didn’t really have any intention of talking about it today, there’s a Nudging feeling inside you that just wants to spill everything to Jack. To lay yourself proverbially bare and let this whole new beginning at Statesman be made of honesty instead of hiding pieces of yourself away. “I—a few years ago, I was with this person. Someone I thought was really going to last, ya know? I mean it wasn’t my soulmate but we had been together for years. Anyway…they got offered a job in New York. And we had all these plans for me to drive down to them and visit on off days and to make things work and they just…” You sigh, hating that everything that happened with your ex still hurts so badly. “It only took them two weeks to find someone else. So I left the apartment we’d been living in with our other friend and moved back in with my family. My little sister had just given birth to my nephew and every pair of hands that could help was welcome.” Rubbing your eyes, you huff ruefully and shrug your shoulders. “Sorry if that’s oversharing, I guess.”

“It’s not.” Jack wants to reach out and hug you, and that’s exactly why he doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve to comfort you and he doesn’t trust himself to not try. “Whoever they were, they were an idiot.” He can’t imagine just finding someone else. Not when you claim to love them. It’s why he’s been very careful to make sure that what he did have was very surface level physical pleasure. He hasn’t had an intimate connection since Abigail. Not real intimacy.

“They’re somebody else’s problem now.” If you wanted to, you could probably argue to yourself that Jack moved closer with this small moment of comfort, but you don’t want to tease yourself like that. You do like him, but it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t see you as more than a potential friend, so you don’t want to push anything. “I appreciate that.”

"Hopefully they step on Legos in the dark for the rest of their life." Jack jokes.

“You are cruel.” It draws a laugh from you anyway, a grateful feeling from being supported in a moment of emotional need. Things like this are easy with Jack - no matter how nervous you may get from your little crush, the softest moments are always easy. “But…on point, honestly. A lifetime of barefoot Lego steps would be pretty suitable.”

He laughs and feels like the moment is light and easy with you. Letting it settle over him like a soft blanket.

“Oh…” The memory hits you immediately and out of nowhere, as you sit in a moment of comfortable silence with Jack. “Tomorrow…I was going to go dress shopping, also. I completely forgot. So…if that doesn’t exactly sound like fun for you, I’ll totally get it.” It would be a disappointment to not spend the day with Jack now that you’ve made the plan, but you can’t imagine that womens’ clothes shopping holds any great appeal for him.

“I don’t mind going dress shoppin’.” Jack shrugs. “You know that it could be fun.” He hums, unable to resist imagining you in a sleek and sexy dress.

“I said yes to this wedding invitation ages ago and I just…haven't had any time to prepare.” The impulse to continue to explain yourself is obviously strong. “The plan was just to ignore my plus one and drive down to Boston on the day, but now it’ll be a flight and a hotel and all kinds of craziness and I—” You shrug. “They’re family, so I can’t just not go. So…I have to find a dress.”

“Wedding huh?” He relaxes slightly and shrugs. “You don’t have to ignore the plus one, I’m sure someone would love to go to a wedding.”

“Well, I’m friendly with about six people at the moment, and four of them are married couples.” Hope flames so strong in your chest that you’re sure he must see it. Maybe misinterpreted as a flash of desperation, but that isn’t it. You’re just…so fucking drawn to him. “So unless you or Tex is willing, I’ll just hang out with my siblings that night like I’ve been planning.”

“When and where is this little shindig happening?” Jack asks, smirking as he imagines perching you on his arm for a wedding and seeing how the rest of your family is. Even though the thought confuses him.

“The Whitney Hotel in Boston, a week from today.” Hope. It flares bright and beautiful in your whole body but you try not to look too much like a fawning schoolgirl. Without knowing how old Jack is, you would guess that he had about ten years on you, and you don’t want to come across as immature when you’re just being sincere.

Instantly, it’s like a bucket of ice water has been poured over his head. Except it’s no team celebration for winning a playoff or prank by Tequila. It’s the horror of realizing that you would have met the man you were supposed to be with if Jack hadn’t been there two weeks ago. Guilt curls in Jack’s stomach and the barbecue and baked beans he had eaten along with about a fourth of the dessert table threatens to make a reappearance. “Sounds- sounds good, sugar.” Jack manages to croak as he leaps ungracefully to his feet. “Excuse me.” He can’t even tip his hat towards you before he is rushing across the yard like the hounds of hell are after him.

******

“I miss you guys.” Hours later, on the phone with your sister, you still haven’t quite shaken the unease left behind by Jack’s abrupt exit from the party. Everyone has started going their separate ways by evening time and you had come home with the intention of starting to write out a shopping list for tomorrow, only to be interrupted by a call from Eliza. “How are my little prince and princess doing?”

“Missing their favorite aunt.” She huffs, even though she’s laughing down the phone. “Driving me crazy and asking when they are going to see you again.”

“At Cassie’s wedding.” You promise, shifting the phone in your hand as you look out into your backyard from the bedroom window seat. “I’m not skipping out on my family just because I moved.”

“I felt like you weren’t going to miss it.” She agrees, happy to hear it. “Have you found your dress already?”

“I’m going shopping tomorrow.” Obviously not with her, like you had been planning, but you’re still going to get it done. Even if Jack backs out of coming with you after leaving the party on such a weird note, you still need to go. “I need a couple more things for the house, so tomorrow is going to be dresses and housewares.”

“I’m so excited to see you.” She huffs, even though it’s only been a couple of days. “Are you settling in okay? I’m just amazed that the job comes with housing.”

“It’s like a little company town out here. There’s a whole neighborhood of full time employees and we all have these cute little houses and manicured yards. And the guest room is open any time you want to come visit.” Other places might have made it suspect or oppressive, but Statesman seemed to thrive on being a family company. “The owner even threw a little welcome party this afternoon. Backyard barbecue, amazing drinks, lots of people just hanging out and kids playing. I met most of the higher ups.”

“It sounds amazing. Friendly atmosphere plus booze?” She laughs. “Tell me the men are handsome.”

“I—” You laugh before you can stop yourself, glancing out the window again into the backyard of the house next door - owned by a woman you met today who works in HR. “Yeah. I’m not even going to be coy about it. Some of these men are stunning.”

“Really?” She knows you can hear the wicked grin on her face through the phone. “Tell me allllllll about them. I need a little cowboy in my life.” She laughs again, well aware she’s never even really interacted with one before but you are in the thick of them apparently.

“So…there are two that stick out.” The only person in the world who knows all your stupid relationship and crush bullshit is your sister. She’s been your best friend for your whole life and never wavered. “They both work security, and they’re…” This time when you laugh it’s a slightly embarrassed sound. “They’re really close friends. So I’m trying not to rock any boats by showing interest.”

“Let me guess, there is one of them that’s older and you like that one best?” She knows her sister better than anyone and whether you want to admit it or not, you have an eye for older men.

“Shut up.” There’s no heat whatsoever behind the scolding and you end up laughing at yourself, appreciating that Eliza isn’t beating around the bush with you. “There is, but if you meet him you have to swear not to embarrass me.”

“Ohhhh, I can meet him?” She asks evilly. “Are you bringing him to the wedding?”

“Maybe.” A part of you instantly wishes you hadn’t said anything, but you know that Eliza always has the best advice. “I don’t know. He offered to go shopping with me tomorrow and come to the wedding but then immediately got weird about it and I don’t know what to think. I’m getting super mixed signals from him.”

“Why do you think he got weird about it? Most men get weird about the wedding part, but you said he basically agreed to go with you, right?” She asks.

“He offered, I didn’t even really ask.” The kids in the yard next door are cackling, laughing as they play with their dog, and you watch them so that you don’t relocate to the living room windows downstairs - which gives you a view of Jack’s house. “It’s like…remember I told you I went to a bar earlier in the week and cleaned up some bikers at a pool game?” At the time, you hadn’t exactly told her the entire story.

“Yeah?” On her end of the phone, she ticks her eyebrow up curiously. “Did you go with old handsome?”

“He’s not old!” You both laugh anyway. “But yes. I went with Jack.” There is a longer-than-necessary pause while you debate with yourself, but you end up shrugging your shoulders. “He calls me ‘sugar’, but I really don’t think I should be reading too much into that because even my boss uses nicknames with literally everyone. It’s just a Southern thing.”

“But he wants to go shopping with you?” She reminds you. “Most men hate shopping.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna let him into the dressing room.” You protest, although you immediately think that if he made a move, you probably would.

“Sure you wouldn’t.” Clearly not believing your bullshit, she laughs. “Maybe he has something weird about the date? A Valentine’s Day wedding is very sappy.”

“Maybe. I really don’t know. And I don’t want to pry, ya know? Because as much as I get mixed signals from Jack, Tex has been nothing but sweet.” Talking it out will help, you tell yourself. It absolutely is not just going to pave the way for further frustration…

“But you don’t really want sweet.” She guesses. “Do you? You’ve always been attracted to the troublemakers.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re both trouble.” Another laugh bubbles out of you and you shake your head. “Remember the guy that came back on the jet with me to help me pack? That was Tex.”

“Oh he was cute, you mean the other one is even better looking? You better bring his ass to the wedding.” She huffs. “Bring both of them.”

“You want me to just strut into our cousin’s wedding with a cowboy in either arm?” God…your whole family would just lose their minds…

“Fuck…a girl can dream can’t she?” Your sister giggles. “I’ll be living vicariously through you.”

“Oh please.” Rolling your eyes is a useless gesture because she can’t see you, but you’re sure she can hear it in your voice. “Is having a surgeon for a husband not enough of a bragging right anymore?” You adore her husband - They’ve been together since high school and discovered their soulmate status after she graduated - but that doesn’t mean you won’t tease her. “Picture perfect kids, a successful husband, and your own amazing career aren’t doing the trick these days?”

“Nope.” She has zero shame and you know it. “I want to hear how hot cowboy sex is.”

When you huff at her it’s supposed to be indignant, but it comes out completely agonized. “If I ever have any, I promise I’ll let you know. But I genuinely doubt I have an actual chance.”

“Please, you’re gorgeous and it sounds like both of them are sniffing around.” She teases. “They want your sugar.”

“I never should have told you that,” you groan, knowing it will probably never die now.

“Hell no, you should save a horse and ride a cowboy.” She laughs and loves how you are sounding better. She knows about your loss of a soulmate and how much it has affected you.

“Oookay.” Snickering, you let out a sigh that is actually more like a half-groan and wipe one hand down your face. “Tell the kids I love them, will you? I’m going to see if I can get some sleep. I think I ate my body weight in barbecue today and it’s catching up with me.”

“I will, okay. I love you,” As much as she misses you, it’s best that you have a fresh start and it sounds like Kentucky is a good place for you.

“I love you, too.” Faintly on the other end, you can hear your mother’s dog barking and laugh softly. The sounds of home are absolute comfort and you do miss it. But this is the right place for you to be right now. “I’ll try to text you a sneaky picture of Jack tomorrow.”

“You better.” She warns you with a cackle. “Otherwise I’m going to embarrass you when he comes to the wedding.”

“If.” The nagging feeling you have that he doesn’t want to go is very real, but there’s nothing you can do about it. He either will or he won’t, and that’s that. “I’ll talk to you later in the week.” Another round of goodbyes is murmured before you hang up, and you sit in the window seat a while longer before dragging yourself to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

******

Jack feels like an ass. No– he is an ass. Actin’ like a fucking pup who had been scolded as he shot across the lawn and away from you. There’s nothing coincidental about where your little wedding is being held and he knows that artistically culinary talented you would have made your way to the kitchens even if they were off limits. He just knows it. Now, he’s watching your house like a damned stalker. Wanting to still keep his promises even though you might slam the door in his face. Spending most of the night up, hearing Abigail’s voice in his head, chewing him a new one for not apologizing for his behavior earlier. As soon as he sees movement, Jack is out the door. His jeaned legs eating up the distance between your house and his, ready to go if you're still wanting, and ready to apologize and just let you use his Bronco if you’re not.

Up, showered, and dressed after a night of lousy sleep and bad dreams, you drag yourself downstairs to make a cup of coffee. This coffeemaker is going to be the first thing you replace, you’ve decided, because you can finally afford a fancy espresso machine like you’ve always wanted. Kitchen gadgets are happening today, and it’s going to be a good time. Whether you go alone or otherwise, you tell yourself. Not knowing what the hell happened with Jack yesterday, you’re not assuming you’ll see him. Until your doorbell rings. Hopefully that’s just Jack holding up his promise to come with you, and not some random coworker wondering if you’ll be coming to church with them.

Shuffling on your small porch, Jack adjusts his hat before he swipes it off his head altogether. Nervous as a teenager going to his first dance, Jack rolls his eyes at himself. He just needs to relax, but for some reason he can't. He doesn't like the idea of you being mad at him. His stomach flips as he hears you walking towards the door.

The door swings open without a single creak, and you bite the inside of your lip when you see him standing there on your porch. “Morning, Jack,” you murmur, stepping aside to let him in. Whether this is an excuse not to come out today or an explanation for his departure last night, you have to admit that you’re just glad to see him. It means you probably didn’t do some unknown mysterious horrible thing to make him hate you - which is definitely what every dream you had last night was about.

Your neutral greeting gives him a smidgeon of hope and feels tension draining away in minute amounts. "Sugar, I-" He steps inside and huffs. "I need to apologize for leavin' so quickly yesterday." He turns and stares at you with a repentant expression on his face. "After makin' a fool of myself, I realized we didn't set our plans for today in concrete and while you might not even want the addition of my presence to your outing, I didn't want to be even more of an asshole and not show up." He manages to rattle this off in one breath and stops to inhale. "However, if you're wishin' to not be in my company, I at least want to offer the use of my bronco to you, since that had been a main sellin' point of the day." Offering for someone to drive Betsy is unheard of, but he's pulling his keys out of his leather jacket to extend them to you if you want.

Verbose. Jack Daniels is a verbose man, who can and will turn any four word sentence into four paragraphs. But you don’t hate that - it flies in the face of ‘quick’ communication like texting or shouting across a kitchen. It’s kind of nice, actually, when you’re not generally upset. “Did I say something wrong?” You finally ask, looking from his keys up to the sincere expression of reticence on his face. “Or did I do something to make you leave?”

"No." Jack assures you quickly, shaking his head and wondering how the hell he could possibly explain. "It was all me, sugar. All me and I apologize for worryin' you. It was never- I feel nearly sick at the idea of makin' you think that you had done anything." He's going to just pray you don't ask him for details.

“But everything’s okay?” If it wasn’t you, then it likely was something personal, and he seems like a fairly private person. A conclusion that’s only being reinforced by the fact that he hasn’t actually explained what happened. You decide, though, that you’ve only known the man a week and he doesn’t owe you his life story, so a sincere apology is enough.

"Right as rain, sugar." He manages to paint on a half grin, rocking forward towards you and there is a magnetism that he feels, like he's being drawn to you. "Does this mean you might still want me to squire you around town?" It's old fashioned and a little a lot flirty, but it feels right.

“Do you want a cup of coffee before we go?” Closing the front door is the silent signal that you want him to stay, and you can feel relief coursing through you that he seems to want to do this. The last thing you would ever want to do is drag him along unwillingly.

"If you're havin' one. If not, we can always swing by the best little coffee shop in town." Jack offers, not wanting to inconvenience you.

“We could do that.” Instead of retreating back into the kitchen, you reach for your jacket and purse instead. “A new coffee maker is on the list of things we’re picking up today.”

Jack chuckles as looks at your standard Mr. Coffee maker that was left in the cabins. "Doesn't quite do it for you?" He guesses, figuring you drink those fancy coffees with art made from the foam.

“My very first job was as a barista in a bakery in the town where I grew up,” you tell him. Keys, phone, purse, jacket, you’ve got everything you need so you open the door again and move to set the alarm via the panel on the wall. “I started drinking espresso and never looked back.”

"Figured." He gives a small chuckle and waits for you patiently, his hand moving to the small of your back when the two of you set out of the cabin and you close the door behind you. "Have you set up your biometric lock yet?" He asks, noticing that you are using the fob for the door.

“Not yet.” Keys go into your purse and you close your eyes momentarily against the warmth of his hand at your back. “Someone is coming tomorrow morning to set it up. Then I’ll lock myself in the kitchen at the restaurant and bake cakes all day.”

"What kind of cakes?" Jack immediately starts drooling, imagining what you might make. His sweet tooth is happy at the prospect.

“Well everybody seemed to like the coconut cake, so I think I’ll leave that recipe alone.” He opens the door of the Bronco for you and you slide in, loving that Kentucky in February is warm enough for an open air drive. “I think I’ll work on the red velvet or a hummingbird cake first. Try to nail down the classics.”

"Diana will adore you if you make her a fancy red velvet." Jack promises you as the two of you get situated in the truck and he turns the engine over. "And Champ will adore you for his wife being happy."

“They’re very sweet together.” The older couple have been nothing but lovely and welcoming to you, and you’re grateful for it. “And I wouldn’t dare open a tea room in the south without red velvet cake on the menu.”

"Maybe one of those scone thingys." Jack rolls his eyes. "She's always talkin' about how no one makes scones here."

"I can do scones." Any suggestions he has are more than welcome, as they give you a pretty good idea of what people in the area are actually looking to eat and that helps you focus your energy while you're putting together your menu. "Scones. Tea sandwiches. Maybe tartlets or quiches. I have way too many ideas."

"Was this always your dream?" He asks, pulling onto the main road and heading towards town. It's in the opposite direction of the bar he had taken you to the first time, but it's amusing to think that he has been showing you all the area himself.

"For my career?" You glance at him as he drives, recognizing the placid look of contentment there. He likes to drive, and you file that away in the back of your mind. "I mean, I did have a pretty decent stretch of time as a kid where I wanted to be a princess, and then about a month in middle school when I decided that I wanted to build a time machine, but...yeah. I pretty much always knew I wanted to be a chef. The debate was savory or pastry, and obviously pastry won."

"You're good at both." He promises you with a chuckle, enjoying the sass that seems to come naturally to you. "A princess, huh?" He looks over at you with a grin. "You know that job title comes with a high chance of being stuck in a tower, right?"

"Yeah, but traditionally it also comes with a handsome prince and really good clothes, so nine-year-old me was okay with it." When he laughs softly you grin, glad to see the tension between you has dissipated. "What about you? Was CEO of an international distillery always on your radar?"

"Definitely not." Jack shakes his head and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. "Smaller plans. Much smaller." He thinks about all the dreams him and Abigail had talked about, laying in the dark and holding onto one another. "Just a happy life, family, you know - the normal stuff."

"Not everything happens early in life. Sometimes the best things are worth waiting for." Obviously he never got his wish - or at least he hasn't yet - and you frown slightly. Surely he hasn't had any shortage of offers? He must be waiting for his soulmate, and you can't blame him for that.

"Yeah." It's better to agree instead of laying out his own sob story. He knows it would make you soft, probably make you want to comfort him and although he's enough of a man to appreciate the ways women love to comfort widowers - he can't do that with you. He's already doing more than he needs. He should be maintaining some distance but he can't quite stay away.

"It's none of my business." You know that, and can recognize it, but there's something about Jack that just continues to draw you like a magnet. "But if you ever want to talk about it...you very literally know where I live."

"I appreciate it, sugar." He does, he really does but he doesn't want to talk about that right now. Not when the day is turning out to be a beautiful one.

The drive turns back to pleasanter topics and Jack lets you play with the radio, laughing when you settle on a classic rock station just before he pulls into the parking lot of his little coffee shop. There are plenty of chains around - Louisville is a city after all - but Jack prefers this little place to Starbucks or - according to him - just about any place else.

“The corporate places are okay- don’t get me wrong, but you can’t get that hankering for something unusual and bring in what you need and have them make it for you like you can here.” He offers, opening the door onto the small coffee shop.

The smell is brilliant, hitting you in the face all at once, and you inhale almost greedily. Whatever sweets they're doing here, they're baking fresh. It washes over you and makes you eager to get up to the counter to see what they're working with. "What's your favorite?" You ask Jack, seeing a fairly standard bar menu when it comes to coffee drinks, but a plethora of tea options and syrups for flavor.

Jack grins at you, sure that you’re going to give him a dirty look. “Plain black coffee.”

"I can't believe you don't drink sweet coffee with the way you go after desserts." Is it teasing? Probably. But it's still a surprise.

“The bitterness of the coffee enhances the sweets.” Jack argues, huffing slightly. “I will have some of that syrup in a coffee if I’m not having a pastry with it, but that’s rare.”

"You know you don't have to defend that to me." You nudge him a little as the two of you step into line. "I always put a little coffee in my chocolate things. It amps up the flavor so much."

“Well then you should know.” He grins, eyes greedy as they roam over the case. Trying to see what they have for today. “They change pastries daily.”

"How often do you come in here?" It must be a lot, judging from the way the baristas call their hellos to him by name, and the cup of coffee already waiting for him at the counter when the two of you finally make it to the front of the line.

"It's my go to spot when I'm in town." He admits, shooting the girls behind the counter a wink and a nod for the coffee. "I'll take one of those sausage, maple and blueberry crumb cakes." He tells the one waiting for his pastry order. "They look good."

"Could I have one of the tomato, leek, and goat cheese quiches?" You ask, when the girl nods to Jack and asks you for your order right away. "And a café au lait of whatever your single origin coffee in today." The cashier dutifully types everything in, gets your milk preference, and gets everything moving. "Is it even worth my offering to pay?" You ask Jack, slightly smirking at how you had to bargain to even get him to allow you to pay for lunch when you planned out today.

"Nope." Jack shakes his head and his own wallet comes out. "I don't think you understand how badly my daddy would whoop my ass." He chuckles.

"Thank you for breakfast, then." If it's something he feels strongly about, then you'll learn to pick your battles. He's sure as hell not paying for any of your shopping today. "I wouldn't want your daddy to appear out of nowhere just because I'm stubborn."

"He'd be coming from the grave, so don't put it past him." Jack jokes, shuffling down the line and collecting his cup while you wait for the pastries and your own coffee. "Man could probably convince Satan himself to open the gates of hell to let him come back to whoop me."

You snort, laughing as you bring over plates of warm pastries and your oversized coffee to the table he has chosen. "Sounds like our fathers would have gotten along," you admit ruefully. "I love my dad but he is a ballbuster of the highest degree."

"Something about a father that does that." He murmurs, remembering his own pride at learning he was going to be papa. It had been the proudest seven months of his life.

"Yeah, I noticed that with my brother-in-law." Everything looks amazing, and you hum happily over the first sip of your coffee. Sweet and creamy but not overpowering the natural flavors of the coffee. You might have to see if this shop is interested in partnering, so you can use their coffee in the restaurant.

Jack is damn thankful that you didn't pick up on the momentary flash of pain, maybe he hid it well enough. Instead of saying anything else about it, he just ticks a brow up. "So? Whadya think?"

He had to ask while you have food in your mouth? You roll your eyes at him for a second but grin, nodding as you finish chewing the perfect first bite. Choosing not to say anything about the dark clouds in his eyes was apparently a good choice - you're just desperate not to do anything to rock the boat between you. "It's sooo good," you groan after a second, laughing at your own exaggerated reaction.

"Try some of mine." He offers, nudging a piece of his crumb cake with scrambled sausage, fresh blueberries and dots of real maple syrup over towards you along with his plain coffee.

Immediately offering him the same, you both try each others' breakfasts and hum happily. Whatever this place is using for their house coffee blend, it works gorgeously with maple. You'll have to remember that if they agree to a partnership. "So everything is good here? That's the vibe I'm getting?"

"Eh." Jack shrugs. "I don't like some of their stuff. Their cookies are a little too crumbly. I like 'em soft and chewy."

"How do you feel about shortbread?" The question comes with a raised eyebrow as you switch breakfasts again and file away Jack's cookie preferences. You're still not sure why you're so invested in making sure that everything you make is going to be to his taste, but it feels important that it is.

"Only if they have a sweet jam on top or sandwiched between layers." Jack admits, giving a small shrug.

"You realize that you have been all of my menu consults so far?" You ask him, thoroughly enjoying your breakfast and trying not to look too embarrassed or eager about that fact. "I ought to just call the place Jack's."

The joke makes him grin, contemplating it seriously for a moment before he shakes his head. "You don't have to take all my advice, sugar. I just like what you're offerin'."

"I'm sure I'll make something that doesn't suit you but everyone else likes, and that's fine." It's an inevitability of your career. Not everyone is going to like every single item on the menu. But that's why having multiple testers is important. "Champ's giving me three months to get the place up and running. He wants to have it ready for the summer tourist season, so I'll be asking for plenty more opinions before that time comes."

"I'm sure it will be amazing." Jack praises honestly. "You seem like you have a passion for makin' people happy and their belt tighter."

"Hopefully." The sting is unexpected - how the thought that smacks you out of nowhere is wondering whether or not your soulmate would have liked your baking. "Hopefully."

Jack sees the way your mood shifts, and he knows it's because of him. From what he can tell, you had been looking forward to a future with your soulmate and he's taken that from you. Guilt settles on him and suddenly, he's not hungry anymore.

An uneasy silence settles between you and you know it's your fault, the thick melancholy hanging over your shoulders making you blurt out and unasked for explanation. "My soulmate died," you tell him, not able to actually look him in the eye but staring into your coffee instead. "Less than two weeks ago. So I'm sorry if I get...awkward sometimes. I never met them or anything, it's just...it's hard to adjust to."

His stomach drops and he opens his mouth to confess. To take the look of sadness off your face and replace it with anger. Maybe it would help you. Help you focus on something else, direct your emotions on hating him. His lips part and the words are on the tip of his tongue. "I'm sorry," is what comes out instead. "I know how you feel, losing someone - I mean."

"Did you--?" Your fingers squeeze into fists on the table, curling in on yourself to try to keep from crying in public. Jack is the first person beyond your immediate family that you've told, and saying the words out loud again makes you ache. "Your soulmate?"

He figures it's safe. That if you know he's lost a soulmate you wouldn't think he has your marks on his body. After all, he's never heard of another set of soulmates in real life. It's always that hopeful whisper. "Yeah." He admits, frowning slightly and reaching out for your hands to cover them with his before he realizes he's doing it. "Her and- and our little boy."

"Oh my god..." Immediately feeling mortified, your fingers open to squeeze his instead of letting your nails bite into your palm. "I'm so sorry. Here I am getting upset about someone I never even met and you...you lost both of them. Shit, Jack."

"It was a long time ago." Jack offers, not wanting you to feel even worse than you do. "You just- it's different. You are allowed to grieve, sugar."

"I think it's part of why I took this job," you admit, feeling all the thoughts you've been keeping a lid on come bubbling to the surface. "A new start, ya know? A brand new life. I have no idea what it would have been like if I had known them, but I'm willing to bet anything that I wouldn't be working at Statesman if I had." Something makes you absolutely certain of it, in fact, and that's almost comforting. Everything in this new life is something you'll choose for yourself.

Jack's nodding covers the way that he swallows, knowing that you had no choice in this. The ink on his skin makes sure that you would end up at Statesman. He can only hope that you are happy here. "Statesman was my fresh start." He tells you honestly.

“And look how well you’ve done for yourself.” The smile on your face might actually be pride, except you have no claim over him in any kind of way that would justify that feeling. “All the way to CEO. I don’t think that it’s…any kind of exaggeration at all…to think that she’d be so proud of you.”

He tells himself that you are trying to be nice. Smiling weakly and giving a small shrug. "Hopefully so."

“Well,” you shrug, sensing that the topic isn’t exactly comforting to him, and pick up your coffee again. “I would be, if I were your soulmate.”

Jack closes his eyes and gives a soft chuckle. "If I were your soulmate, you'd hate me, sugar." He tells you, knowing that the secret he keeps from you would completely change your thoughts on him.

“I doubt it.” There are very few people on earth that you actually hate, and you can’t imagine a single thing he could ever do to cause that kind of reaction from you. “But I guess we’ll never know.”

"Yeah." That was true because he knew that no one was going to tell you. You would be happy and safe here at Statesman, maybe meet someone and fall in love with them, never aware that Jack is your soulmate. He frowns deeply at that thought and takes a sip of his coffee as he wonders why he hates that idea.

******

Dragging him around Pottery Barn and Williams-Sonoma ends up being a fully entertaining morning after an awkward breakfast. The shiny kitchen appliances and soft, fluffy throw pillows and blankets that end up in his Bronco pile up, punctuated with scented candles, a few decor pieces, and a beautiful full set of dishes and glasses for your table. The house stuff is easy, earns you a little teasing here and there, and is done before you know it.

"Where to now, sugar?" Jack asks, raising a brow at everything that is packed in the back. "Your dress or you want some more knick knacks?" He is in an indulgent mood and the slight bickering you had entertained him with had showcased how funny you are.

“Seems like dress time. I think I can put off more knick-knacks for another day.” You laugh and roll your eyes at him playfully. Jack had ragged on you the entire time you were in Bath & Body Works picking out scented candles, just as bad as the search for decor items in Pottery Barn. “You keep teasing me and I’m gonna make you buy me flowers for my new vase.”

"Aww, sugar, now you've gone and ruined my housewarming gift." He huffs, scowling at you playfully. He hadn't really been thinking about getting you flowers, but now that you mention it - it seems like a fine idea. "I'll get you the best ragweed Kentucky has to offer."

“If you do, you’ll lose taste testing privileges.” That is a very real threat, since your allergies affect your senses of smell and taste fairly dramatically. Allergies have cost you more than one exam grade in culinary school.

"No ragweed. Check." Jack drolls, just to make you laugh as he guides the Bronco towards some boutique that the women folk went to. Ginger had designed several outfits for formal affairs off what she had seen there.

“This is fancy.” When he pulls up in front of the building you can see into the big picture windows. Ladies sitting on settees with glasses of champagne that is probably cava - just as delicious at a third of the price - and women in crisp suits toting beautiful gowns in and out of dressing rooms.

"Hopefully you can find something beautiful here." He tells you. "They dress a lot of people around here for fancy things."

“Statesman people for fancy Statesman things?” You both climb out of the truck and he leads you to the door, giving you the feeling once more that all his gentlemanly behavior is just how he is with women and has nothing to do with you. Which is fine. It is. You’re just trying to talk your crush down off that ledge before you do or say something stupid. “I’m sure I’ll find something.” But your credit card will be laid respectfully to rest after today for a very long time.

"Sometimes." Jack grins. "We get a hell of a discount here."

“Now you’re talking my language.” The grin you shoot him is broad, morphing into something infinitely more amused when the woman behind the counter recognizes him immediately. “Mr. Daniels!” She practically purrs. “What can we do for you on this beautiful day?”

"Now Stephanie..." Jack turns and introduces you to the shop owner. "This here is our newest Statesman employee and she's lookin' for a dress." He tells her. "And of course, your shop was the first and only one I could recommend to her."

“Oh, you’re too kind.” She titters, downright blushing like he’s just outright flirted. It makes your stomach twist in something awful like jealousy. “My dear, what occasion do you need to be dressed for?”

“Um…a formal wedding.” You know you should have taken care of this ages ago, but if you’re honest with yourself you had just figured you would raid your sister’s closet and called it a day. She has plenty of nice things. “Black tie optional, the invitation said.”

"Black tie." She purses her lips and cuts her eyes over at Jack playfully. "I'm assuming you're attending and wearing the velvet Tom Ford we tailored to you with the black stetson?" She asks, tapping her finger to chin thoughtfully. "We will get a bow tie and pocket square that matches the color of the dress we find her." She decides.

“I really appreciate the help.” That’s undeniable. Clearly you hadn’t managed to get this done just by walking through a mall. “The, uh…the wedding colors are pink and white…if that helps? Obviously no one wears white to a wedding but I guess no pink, either?”

"Red is a no-no." She hums and her eyes light up as she thinks of a dress. "What about a blush champagne colored dress?" She offers. "I have a new design I just got in and it would look magnificent with your coloring."

"That sounds like a good place to start." You nod gratefully and let her whisk the pair of you over to one of the smaller sitting areas beside a dressing room. As soon as she disappears down a hallway another young woman appears with drinks and all but winks at Jack when she hands his over.

Jack winks back at her and nods in appreciation of the drink before he turns to you. "What do you think of this place?" He asks, looking around at it like he hasn't been there a hundred times.

"I have a feeling I'm nowhere near the first woman you've brought here for a dress." It's just an observation, and you try very hard not to sound sour about it, but your stomach is churning as you set your drink down on the small table beside you. "It's nice. They obviously take pride in their business."

"Well, I've brought Astrid, Gabriella, Diana when she wanted to surprise Champ." Jack ticks off names playfully, aware that's not how you meant it, but it's kind of rewarding to see the tinge of jealousy in your eyes.

"I do...appreciate you doing this." There is absolutely no reason to be jealous. Just because you have a stupid crush on the man does not mean he owes you anything. "I know it's a big ask, this whole weekend away thing. Even more so because we really just met."

He gives you a smile, shoving down the worries and insecurities under the veneer of confidence. "It's not a big deal, we'll go and drink, dance, have some canapés and you'll tell me who is the family black sheep and I'll make friends with them."

You snort, shaking your head at him and reaching for your drink as an anchor. "You already have," you tell him honestly. "I'm her."

"Now why would you be the black sheep?" Jack huffs, shaking his head at the mere thought.

"It's more like my family are the black sheep family out of the whole extended group." Having very independent and capable parents with strong opinions had meant that you and your siblings turned out just as independent and opinionated. "But my siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles and all of that...even my parents...they all have really incredible success stories in their education and careers, and everyone in my family has married their soulmate. No one is even going to believe that the restaurant is real. They all turned up their noses when I chose pastry in culinary school. Apparently bakers can't be celebrity chefs, and if I'm not a celebrity chef then I'm nobody." You shrug, long having since given up on gaining the approval of your extended family. "My parents and my siblings are great. And that's really all I care about."

"Ahhhh." Jack nods as he settles back in his chair. "I bet you would blow their fifty dollar socks off when you get your tea room set up. Have you come up with a name yet?"

"I'm still debating." One sip from your glass proves that you were right about the theory that it was cava to save money, but it's still a lovely glass of bubbly. "An Alice in Wonderland reference probably won't mesh with the general feeling around Statesman, so I might name it after my grandmother."

Jack gives a small shrug. "You could always call it The Rabbit-Hole and use the Red Rabbit Burrow blend they are working on marketing for." He tells you, thinking about the new line that is about to come out.

You stare, mouth open, and a hollow laugh sticks in your throat while your brain vaguely short circuits. If you had known about this new blend, you would already have the name down on the paperwork. "I could kiss you." Is the declaration that comes out of your mouth instead, gratitude and giddy glee reaching all the way to your toes. "Jack, that's perfect!"

It's on the tip of his tongue to take you up on that offer, watching your eyes light up with delight and joy. Making you seem even more beautiful than you normally are. "It's going to be launching in about five months." He tells you with an offhand shrug. "I can get you a few gallons to sample and experiment with if you want."

"That would be amazing." You're already itching to get your hands on it, wondering what the tasting notes will be like and what you can pair it with. "The Rabbit-Hole." Humming happily, you barely manage to keep your little wiggling happy dance under wraps when the woman - Stephanie - comes back with a handful of dresses.

Jack takes your glass of champagne from you and smirks. “Go play with the dresses and pretend you're a princess, sugar.” He winks and motions you off.

The large handful of dresses that Stephanie has reappeared with are grand and sparkling in tone of gold, champagne, and rose that will obviously compliment a pink-themed wedding but not upstage it. She seems to have picked out a style she likes for you - glamorous and evoking a bombshell look that would guarantee that the first person anyone in the room looks at after the bride, will be you. "These are stunning," you breathe, letting your fingers graze the sequins on the first dress on the rack. "I've never worn anything like them. But...I guess after today I won't be able to say that."

“Try them all on.” Jack encourages you. “We don’t have anywhere else to be.”

He's right, of course. The only other plan you have today is to have dinner together, so you disappear into the fitting room to swap your clothes for the first dress that might wind up in your closet by the end of the afternoon. The cut is flattering and the color is brilliant, but it doesn't quite feel right in some amorphous way that you can't quite put your finger on. Still, you step out to show Jack and see what he has to say.

Jack whistles and his eyes drag up and down your body. “Damn, sugar.” He huffs. “How do you like it?”

You can't help preening a little, even though you're sure he would compliment absolutely anyone he was with the same way. "It's nice, but I don't think it's quite right. I do love the color, though."

“Well then I guess we can mark that off the list.” Jack smirks. “Next one sugar.”

The next two dresses are nixed - one by you and one by Jack, who insists that the skirt doesn't fall right and you just end up smiling and nodding because you're trying not to spontaneously combust from him paying so much attention to your figure. When you go back into the dressing room, you skip the next one that Stephanie had chosen for you and go straight to the last, sighing over the flowers embroidered all over the dress and its accompanying sheer cape. The rose coloured fabric is darker than the Barbie-pink you know your cousin has chosen and the purple and gold accents make it fascinating to watch shimmer. It's gorgeous and the price tag makes you wince, but you have to try it on.

When you step out of the dressing room, Jack immediately stands and sweeps his hat off his head as he stares. “This- this is the one, sugar.” His body tells him that he really likes the way you look and he motions towards the mirror. “What do you think?”

"It's amazing." His reaction doesn't hurt either, and you turn to face the wall-sized mirror beside your dressing room. The cape falling around your shoulders is the closest to being a princess you'll ever come, and you glance at Jack over your shoulder as you watch your reflection. "It's so comfortable," you admit, laughing that that is so exciting to you when you're wearing such a gorgeous piece of art.

“So this is the one? Yeah?” Jack waits for you to nod and then turns to Stephanie. “Does there need to be any alterations?”

"A slight hem, depending on what shoes your friend will be wearing." Stephanie smiles, making sure to stay polite. "Oh...I guess I do need shoes, don't I?" Turning around in place, you look between them both. "I'm not too steady on high high heels, but...can a hem be done this week? The purchase is...sort of last minute." "I can have it done by mid week for you." Stephanie assures you, stepping forward to inspect the dress on your body and make sure she's correct that nothing more needs to be done. "We do have some heels here, if you would like to look. Gold will work well, or we can dye a fabric pair to match the gown if you prefer."

Jack chuckles. “Go check the shoes out, sugar.” As much as he doesn’t ‘shop’, he’s enjoying himself. Enjoying learning things about you. Maybe it’s crazy, he doesn’t know, but he looks at it like he’s taking care of you. Making you happy.

With a few very careful steps, you get down from the little platform that your dressing room was on and follow the saleswoman around the corner to a large display of heels in nearly two dozen shapes, styles, and heights. There are so many that it’s a bit overwhelming, but your eyes settle on a pair with intricate caging and open toes that will strap onto your feet and hopefully not move an inch all night. Something worth putting up with high heels for. “What about these?” You ask out loud, almost afraid to see this price tag on top of the dress.

Stephanie chuckles, actually chuckles and admires the boldness of your choice. “They are statement pieces, aren’t they?” She reaches for the shoes and pulls them off the display. “They are gorgeous and actually probably some of the more comfortable heels. Let me get your size and we will see how they look?”

“Thank you.” Your fingers subtly stroke the fabric of the dress as she retrieves your shoe size from the back and you walk back to where Jack is waiting.

Jack looks up, still in awe of the way the dress looks on you and gives you a smile. “Are they dying shoes or did you find some?”

“I saw a nice gold pair. Hopefully they have my size.” There’s only a moment of hesitation before you go back into the dressing room, retrieving your cell phone from your pants pocket to bring it out to him. “Would you…mind taking a picture? I…it’s silly. I just really want to show my sister.”

“One without the shoes and one with?” Jack guesses with an indulgent and slightly naughty grin. “I never have a problem taking a picture of a beautiful woman, sugar.”

Stephanie returns with the shoes while your face is still burning from Jack’s compliments. Absolutely no part of this is what you figured today would be like. You had pictures hunting through the dress department at Dillard’s quickly so as not to bore Jack, coming up with something passable but unremarkable. This is an altogether opposite experience to that - and definitely the closest to being a princess that you’ve ever felt.

Jack hums as Stephanie brings the shoes over and you sit down on one of those little poofy circle things women love. Standing, he moves over to you. “Let me help you put them on, sugar.” He murmurs silkily as he drops down to one knee in front of you and takes the shoes from the other woman.

It’s a damn Cinderella moment and all you can do is sit, frozen, trying not to react to the strength and gentleness of Jack’s large hands working the delicate straps on the heels. It’s not that you have a foot fetish, or anything even akin to it. It’s the warm way your skin tingles under his touch and the absolute intimacy of helping someone get dressed that have you holding your breath while Stephanie makes her unnoticed escape. You two clearly ought to be left alone.

He’s never thought of a foot as pretty. Never given them much thought beyond walking and laughing then Abigail had stuck her feet in his lap and demanded foot rubs for carrying his boy. He had acquiesced every time willingly. Now he keeps his fingers light as they move, sliding across your skin or holding your heel while he slips the heels on and buckles the straps.

It’s soft. Gentle. And you have no fucking clue why having him help you with your shoes has you in the verge of tears but here you are. Once they’re in place you shift slightly on the pouf, not sure that you want to break the spell of whatever the hell was just happening, but you need to see if the damn things are actually going to work for you. “Would you…?” You hold your hands out to him awkwardly, asking for help up.

“Of course, sugar.” Jack stands and dusts off his pants before he offers his hand to you with a wink and a slightly embellished flourish. “A Princess should not stand on her own.”

The way you huff is quiet - almost mournful but more like boarding indignant as he helps you to stand and just keeps you in front of him like this. Looking you over like it’s his privilege instead of a right. “If you treat the women you’ve just made friends with like this,” you observe, trying to shake off how special it makes you feel. “I don’t understand how somebody hasn’t snatched you up since being single.” You shrug, a little gesture but an honest one. “That’s just to say…your wife was a very lucky woman.”

“No sugar, I was the lucky one.” He promises, shoving down the wave of sadness and bitterness so he can concentrate on you. You deserve to feel beautiful at this moment. “Remember, manners maketh man.”

“Not in a dress shop, I hope.” A little smile crosses your lips, remembering he had said the same thing before taking those bikers to task a week ago. “And…it’s possible for you both to have been lucky. That’s—that’s what finding a soulmate is. At least…that’s what it seems like.”

It slips out, the dreaded words he hated for so long. “Maybe you will be lucky and have another soulmate.” He murmurs, knowing that according to the universe - you do.

You’ve heard those words before. From your father and brother, mostly, and you paint on the patient smile that you offered both of them when they said it. “Second soulmates are a fairy tale,” you remind him gently. “They don’t happen in real life. I’ll— I’ll just be glad if I ever find somebody willing to put up with my own specific brand of weird bullshit. That’s the dream now.” Companionship, not true love. That’s the best that you’ll dare to hope for.

He sees the brittleness in your smile because he has been far less kind with those words spoken to him. “I know.” He murmurs. “We just have to say it, right? It’s almost required.”

“Right.” You nod, stepping away from him before you say something incredibly stupid, and move back to the mirror to see the dress with these shoes on. It’s a spectacular combination and your smile softens, wondering what your soulmate would have thought of this kind of glamor.

Jack takes the picture you asked for and hands you back the phone. “Excuse me for a moment, sugar. Too much champagne, and I need to use the facilities.” He steps away, disappearing from the private dressing room.

******

“Mr. Daniels.” Stephanie’s head pops up from the front desk in surprise when she spots him, looking like he’s slinked away from where he was supposed to be. “Did you require assistance?”

“Sure can, darlin’.” Jack pulls out his wallet and lays down his credit card. “Everything she wants goes on this card. Tell her that it’s on the Statesman account and she’ll be billed at a heavy discount.” He requests, needing to buy that dress for you for some strange reason.

“You don’t want her to know it’s a gift?” She asks, head tilting slightly like she’s intrigued at the request.

“No.” Jack shakes his head adamantly. “This is a secret between you and me.” He makes it seem more charming with a wink and a flash of a flirty smile.

“Alright.” She’s damn well not going to question it. Not when she makes a commission. “Shall I encourage your friend to peruse our jewelry and clutches to complete the outfit, or would you prefer to keep the purchase small?”

“Whatever she wants.” Jack reiterates. Perhaps some of it is that underlying guilt that springs up around you, but this is mostly to make sure you look amazing at an event where your family will be.

“Very good.” Offering him a nod, she enters his credit card information into the purchase order under your name and hands it back with a smile. “If it’s not overstepping, the two of you do make a very sweet couple.”

“I wouldn’t be good for her.” Jack murmurs as he shoves his wallet back into his back pocket and sighs. “Now to actually use the bathroom.”

When Jack does return several minutes later, you are changed back into your own clothes and pour over a small display of gold earrings with Stephanie. “Hey!” Your smile is wide and true, eyes lighting up when you see him. “For a second there I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m harder to shake than a tic on a dog’s ass, sugar.” Jack jokes, just to make you giggle at his inappropriate comeback.

“Noted,” you snicker, even more amused because Stephanie looks so horrified. “I swear I’m almost done here, and then we can get dinner.”

“Take your time, sugar. The decorations make the cake more delicious.” Jack muses.

“He says to a baker.” This time you throw him a wink, deciding that playful things are just that much more fun today. It doesn’t matter that he’s just being kind, whereas you would willingly and easily drag him into that dressing room to find out exactly how much of that cocky attitude actually comes from his cock.

Grinning, he can’t help the way that his cock twitches in his jeans. You are a sexy woman and even more so when you are playful. He likes that in a woman. “So go on and pick out your doodads.” He motions towards the display case. “Gotta work up an appetite.”

Doodads. You shake your head, feeling the action be much more affectionate than you meant for it to be, and turn back to the case of jewelry in various colors, tones, and styles. The earrings you end up picking are simple but beautiful sparkling gold stud, and a nearby soft fabric clutch in gorgeous metallic gold. Stephanie tries directing you to other pieces like elaborate bracelets, but you just end up wrapping your hand around the simple gold cuff you wear every day on your wrist. It was a gift from your sister and you haven't skipped wearing it a day in the three years since she gave it to you. "I think this is plenty," you announce, when you really understand that she isn't going to stop pushing. It's fine - she probably works on commission and you're making her a lot of money today. But you're not replacing the bracelet your sister gave you for any reason. "Dress, shoes, earrings, and a purse. That's more than I expected to do today, anyway."

“Alright.” Stephanie wants to tell you to spend more money. She knows Jack Daniels can afford it, but you aren’t supposed to know. “I don’t think with the heels you need any hemming, so would you like to take the dress with you now?”

“Please.” The placid smile on your face belies how excited you actually are about the dress - it’s just your credit card bill you’re dreading. “I really appreciate all your help today. I would have been lost on my own.”

“I love helping people dress for special occasions.” Stephanie tells you brightly and scans all the items, wrapping them up and putting them in a boutique bag before pulling out a garment bag for the dress.

“My cousin’s wedding is sure to be memorable.” That’s just the sort of person she is - a very big personality that should never be silenced. You shift your purse off your arm at the counter, digging for your wallet to hand over your credit card.

“That’s great.” Stephanie zips up the dress and smiles at you as she pushes the bag forward. “Well, I hope you enjoy it and have a great rest of your day.”

"I--um..." Standing there with your credit card out, you tilt your head and furrow your brow at the shop employee. "I haven't paid yet," you remind her gently.

“Don’t worry about that.” She waves away your card with a smile. “It’s been put on Statesman’s account.” She explains breezily. “It will be billed to you, at a heavy discount.”

"Oh." Vaguely wondering how many local businesses Statesman simply has an account at, you put your card away and give the woman a slightly dazed nod as you accept the bags she has packed for you. "Well-I...thank you, again."

Jack winks at Stephanie and nods at her politely before taking your bags. “Are we ready, sugar?”

"We're ready." This whole we and sugar business is the kind of thing that makes you feel like a schoolgirl - like you're going to go home tonight and call your sister from bed while you kick your legs and gleefully recall every detail of every interaction. And fuck - who knows - maybe you will. He's been wonderful today. Completely relieving you of any worry you had last night. "Time for dinner?"

“Only if you are ready for the best collards and cornbread you’ve ever stuffed in your sweet lookin’ little mouth.” The urge to compliment you is just too much. Depending on what he says, he gets a sassy comeback or you turn charmingly shy. Both are perfect in Jack’s book.

The eyebrow you raise in his direction is matched by a smirk, and you can’t help yourself. He’s getting more outlandish in his comments and it’s either a Southern thing that you just don’t have up in New England, or he might actually be flirting. “Been thinking about my mouth today, have you?”

“It’s a nice mouth.” Jack opens the door to the shop and lets you proceed him. “The day a man doesn’t think about a mouth that is sassy and sweet, sour and sugary, well - it’s the day they put him in the ground.”

You practically gasp at the admission, taking the garment bag with your gown and carefully arranging it amongst all the other boxes and bags in the back of the Bronco when you get outside. “So you’ve actually been flirting with me and I’m the idiot who just caught on?”

Jack shuffles, looking for the world like a man who’s gotten his hand caught in the cookie jar. He had been flirting and he hadn’t even realized it, the feeling so natural with you. Jack Daniels claims to be a born flirt, but ninety percent of it is an act. He hadn’t been acting with you. “Yes?” He asks, slightly worried that it might offend, given what you had said earlier.

He sounds worried, and you almost round the car to press a kiss to his cheek right there. But since the two of you had a short but legitimate conversation this morning about your dead soulmates, you decide not to push it and to just move with the flow of teasing. He seems to like it, and you have to admit to loving finding out that this man returns your attraction. “Good,” you hum, instead of doing anything sappy or too forward. “Keep it up.”

Jack’s grin is slow and he winks at you after he hops into the Bronco again, defying the need for the door. “Bossy lady.” He teases as he turns the key and the engine roars to life. “Easiest order ever, sugar.”

“I just know what I like, that’s all.” The victorious grin that overtakes your face settles there and stays as he pulls out onto the main road. You know what you like and you like him - right from the first second you saw him. It’s just that simple.

Jack drives you about five miles from the dress shop. The outside of the restaurant doesn’t look appealing, it’s the same facade of any strip mall in anywhere U.S.A. For Jack, that was part of the charm. Looks were deceiving. “Here we are, sugar.”

The outside looks like nothing at all, but through the glass windows you can see a line at the cafeteria counter that goes almost to the door. “Looks like we’re just in time for the dinner rush,” you shoot him a grin. “Perfect. Everything will be fresh.”

“Get two scoops of the collards or you’ll be waiting on a new pan.” Jack warns you, smirking as he opens the door and the scent of the buffet wafts out.

“Oh my god it smells like heaven.” The second you’re through the door you’re salivating, eagerly hopping into line with Jack at your side. “It smells like my grandmother’s house in here.”

“Your grandma cooked like this?” Jack asks, arching an eyebrow at you doubtfully.

“You think my coconut cake story was a lie?” You challenge him, grin twisting into the corner of your lips. “Grandma Jane was born and raised in Virginia. She only moved north after my older brother was born. According to her, being a long-distance granny simply was not an option.”

“Well then, let’s see if they cook as good as Grandma Jane from Virginia.” Jack teases, sending you a wink as the two of you get in line.

The building is absolutely packed to the gills, busy employees and happy customers all buzzing with their own energies. You and Jack slowly make your way up to the front of the line where regulars are being greeted by name, and you grin when one very maternal woman behind the counter lights up at the sight of him - this man seems to make an impression wherever he goes.

"Miss Mary, how are you doin' today?" Jack coos as he shuffles forward with you, a grin on his face and he sweeps his hat off his head and snatches her hand to kiss it playfully.

“Always missin’ you, Jack,” the woman laughs, swatting at him ineffectually and obviously enjoying this ritual playful flirtation. “You been in New York again? We ain’t seen you in a dog’s age.”

"No ma'am." Jack shakes his head mournfully. "Work pulled me farther away than New York, otherwise you know I would be flyin' down to sample your famous biscuits." He motions towards you and introduces you to the older woman. "Just had to show our newest Statesman member the best damn home cookin' around."

“Well, welcome, honey!” She shifts her attention to you with a beaming smile. “What is it you’re doin’ over there at the distillery, sweetheart?” “I’m a chef, actually.” You flash her a grin as if you’re both guilty of the same crime. “Brand new to the area, and I asked Jack to show me his favorite place. So here we are.”

"Oh well, I don't know if our cookin' 'ill be up to your standards, but let me know what you think." She looks impressed at the fact that you are a chef, as if running a wildly successful restaurant doesn't qualify her for the same thing. "Sweet Jack here was one of my first customers and sometimes he can be a little biased."

“I haven’t had real Southern cooking in about three years, so I’m excited to dig in.” You tell the woman honestly, making sure not to react to the inquisitive look on Jack’s face that you’re sure you’ll be answering for later. “I’m sure Jack’s bias is completely earned.”

Mary flusters, looking extremely pleased and flattered as she shoos you past. "Well you just enjoy and tell me all about it, you hear?" She demands, motioning you towards the drink station. "Get the sweet tea, honey. It's the real star of the show."

“I’m under orders, I guess. Not that anyone needs to encourage me to drink more sweet tea.” Turning to Jack as you move down the line together, you can see the question still in his eyes. “My grandmother died three years ago,” you explain. “There’s nowhere to get good Southern food in New Hampshire, and…cooking it myself hurt a little too much. Made me miss her too much. So I haven’t made anything except her coconut cake since the funeral.”

"I'm sorry, sugar." Jack knows about loss that just cripples you. He's lived with it for so long, he's functioning. At least as much as he could with his heart ripped out of his chest.

“Thank you.” It’s not ‘okay’, so you won’t say so even off-handedly, but you do slip the thin gold band from your wrist and show him the words written inside: Beautiful girl, you can do hard things. “My little sister had these made a few months later. It’s what she always used to tell us when we were worried or scared. So…she’s still with me. I know it’s not the same as losing your wife and son, but…I get what it feels like. Being so sad you can’t even open your eyes in the morning. I know that feeling.”

Jack stares at the phrase, his own eyes pricking with tears and he nods. "Loving someone is a curse sometimes, as much as it is a privilege."

“It is.” You nod and slip the band back on your wrist. “But that doesn’t mean we should stop. It just means the next person should be worth loving.”

Jack can't comment on that. Not when he's vowed to never love someone again. His own tea in hand, it's a silent perusal for a table, one set up in a small corner and he points to it. Unsure of if you will like it. He knows the silence is his fault, but how could he tell someone that he is wearing their tattoo that loving someone else wasn't in the cards for him.

It’s telling, the way chatty and openly flirtatious Jack clams up at your point of view, and you follow him to the table with a flash of melancholy in your understanding. He’s the kind of man who will simply never let go. No one will ever take his wife’s place and anyone that’s drawn his eye since is just a distraction. And for the life of you, you can’t understand why that makes your chest feel hollow and empty the way it does.

He hates that he's put a pall over the outing and once the teas are set down, he reaches for your hand. "Sorry, sugar." He murmurs softly. "It's just— it's hard to talk about. I don't mean to make you feel bad."

“Oh, I’m fine.” Lying through your teeth is what you are, but you smile for him anyway and squeeze his hand. “I think I went too long without eating, that’s all. It can affect my mood. Nothing to worry about.” Swallowing the lump squeezing your heart, you manage to find his eyes. “You can always talk to me. If you want to, I mean.”

"I appreciate that." He does, but he can't. Not without giving away the real issue. It's like your tattoo is burning and he rubs his arm absentmindedly. "Why don't we get you some grub and we can talk about less haunting things?"

“Sure.” You find yourself nodding around him quite a lot, content to be led by him through this new world you’re navigating. After all, you do like him. And Jack’s never given you a single reason not to trust him. “That sounds like a plan.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Kingsman Golden Circle #Soulmate au

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mrsarnasdelicious · 1 year

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Take the Boy

Set just after season 4

"Where are we going?" Aethelstan asks, looking up at Uhtred. "Home." Uhtred replies. "Where is home?" Aethelstan questions. Uhtred chuckles ever so gently. He caresses the boy's hair. "Home is in Cookham." He says. "Will you be there, too?" Aethelstan's next question comes swiftly. "And Finan and Sihtric and your uncle Osferth." Uhtred affirms.

He takes the boy by his hand, leading him to his men, who are already in the saddle. Osferth is driving the cart with their belonging and treasure. They did not only lose in this battle. "You ride in the cart." Uhtred helps Aethelstan sit down next to Osferth. "Look after him." He says. "Of course, Lord." The Monk smiles gently.

You are waiting at Cookham, anxious to have your husband back. He has been away for far too long. You have been all but begging the gods to have him back alive.

Your heart leaps when you see the group of men enter through the gates of the town. At once you see it is Lord Uhtred and his men. "Sihtric!" You cry out, rushing to his stunning dapple grey steed. "Y/N!" Sihtric calls out to you.

He vaults out of his saddle and runs to you. His horse, careless of his absence, runs to the nearest water throgh to take a drink. "I have misses you, my love." You murmur sweetly. "And I you." Sihtric takes you into his arms. He leans his forehead against yours and grins boyishly. It is the same boyish grin you fell in love with over a decade ago. He kisses you slowly, savouring every little detail of your lips. You heave a happy little sigh.

"Sihtric!" Uhtred interrupts your happy little reunion. Sihtric breaks away from you. "Yes Lord?" He asks, through clenched jaws. "You are taking the boy." Uhtred nudges the ravenhaired child towards you. "But Lord...?" Sihtric is confused. "You have children his age, let him grow up with his peers." Uhtred says. "Yes Lord." Sihtric nods. He crouched before Aethelstan. "We must keep you safe. We must keep you secret. You will live under roof, you will grow up with my Gods and my children. You will call me father and my wife mother. Are we understood?" He speaks.

Never have you seen Sihtric so serious, not even with his own children. Your own children are allowed to run quite wild, but with this children he seems to be setting a precedent.

"Who is this boy?" You look not to your husband, but to Uhtred.

"This is Osferth's nephew." Uhtred replies. "Why is he here?" You ask. "I am tasked with keeping him safe." Says your Lord. "And you give that task to us. At what risk, Lord?" You ask. "Wife, don't." Sihtric says firmly. He's not very wont to raise his voice. Especially not to you. "Why not?" You turn to him. "He is just a boy. Let us do for him what no one did for me, or Osferth." Sihtric murmurs.

You look down on the boy and your husband.

"His name is Aethelstan, but don't call him that outside of Cookham." Uhtred says firmly. "Yes Lord." You give a small nod.

#TLK #The Last Kingdom #Sihtric x Reader #Aethelstan #Sihtric #Uhtred

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eemcintyre · 10 months

Text

Good Morning (Tom Cruise)

TW- none. Less than none.

Summary- Trying to make up for how busy he's been lately, Tom takes your daughter off your hands for the morning and obv cuteness ensues.

I stumbled randomly upon this picture on ye olde Pinterest and was immediately overtaken by my creative whims. I'm always a sucker for dad!Tom, and if you are too, then hopefully this will be an enjoyable read.

Children were the only thing that could have made Tom Cruise’s life more action-packed than it already was. He had discovered this firsthand a couple of years ago, when his and Y/N’s daughter, Indie, was born. Even though they had gotten past the initial stages of sleepless nights and teething by this point, Indie was now four and getting to the age where she needed a lot more stimulation and activity.

Over the last several days, Tom had practically lived in his home office. Due to an abundance of conference calls and other business negotiations, he was sorry to admit that he’d hardly been able to spend time with Y/N or his daughter. Though Y/N understood his obligations, he could tell that she was pretty exhausted. Even during breaks from her job, taking care of Indie on her own could be a lot to handle. Unsurprisingly, she had been born with her father’s daring, as well as his seemingly boundless energy, which was a deadly combination in a four-year-old.

But, this weekend, Tom had made certain that his schedule was clear. It was early Saturday morning, and he had decided to take Indie off of Y/N’s hands for a while so that she could sleep late. Being as quiet as possible, he jotted down a note explaining where they had gone. Placing the note on Y/N’s bedside table and pressing a soft kiss to her head, he took Indie out for a morning on the town. Strapping her into her car seat and cranking up some blues rock, they set off in the cherry-red Buick Roadmaster that he liked to break out on weekends.

Tom was pleased with how the morning had gone. First, they’d made a foray into one of the local parks where, between chasing her down when she tried to run off, Indie enjoyed being pushed on the swings and going down the tunnel slides. Then, after she had burned off a sufficient amount of energy, they ventured downtown for some breakfast items to take home. Gripping her little hand in his, Tom and Indie wandered the sun-drenched sidewalks past various brightly painted storefronts with lettering on the windows. Their main objective was to stop at a combination café and bakery where he and Y/N were known as regulars.

Nearing the counter, Tom had Indie in his arms so that she could see the full expanse of available pastries in the display case.

“Alright, darlin, what looks good?”

“Wan’ that one,” Indie replied, pointing to the iced donuts covered in rainbow sprinkles.

“And what do we say?” Tom glanced at her meaningfully.

“Please, can I have that one?”

“Yes ma’am, you may,” he grinned at Indie as the employee tending the counter approached.

“Mr. Cruise, hi there, what’ll it be this morning?”

“Hey, how are ya? The usual for my wife and I, and one of those rainbow donuts for the little lady,” he replied, glancing at Indie and bouncing her in his arms.

“You’ve got it. I’ll have the donut right out for you and those drinks will be done in a moment.”

“Thanks.”

A few minutes later, they exited the café and continued on their journey while Indie munched on her donut. Her attention was soon captured by a flower stand outside one of the buildings, and with icing smudged across her fingers and face, she pulled away from Tom and ran toward it.

“Hey, sweetheart, c’mere,” he sighed as he quickly caught up with her. Kneeling so that he was at her level, he attempted to clean some of the icing off of her face and hands. “You look like a wild woman.” He shook his head, and she giggled.

As Indie admired the bouquets, sticking her face in to smell them, Tom thought it would be a fun idea to get some for Y/N.

“Why don’t you pick out some flowers for Mom?” he suggested. “Which ones do you think she would like?”

Indie was quickly drawn to one of the bouquets with pink and purple flowers in it. It was a wildflower mix of cosmos, chamomile, hyacinth, lavender, and a single large sunflower.

“All right, good choice,” he nodded.

After they had paid, they made their way back to where his car was parked.

“Daddy, can I please hold them? Pleeeeeeaaaase,” Indie insisted, making grabby hands up at the flowers as he carried them.

“Okay, but you have to be careful, sweetheart,” he cautioned her, watching out of the corner of his eye as they walked to make sure that the bouquet didn’t end up scraped and scattered across the sidewalk. Thankfully, it made it to the car intact.

They returned home in the Roadmaster, this time with Indie’s choice of The Wiggles playing. The second she was freed from the confines of the car seat, she was eager to run inside and pounce on Y/N.

“Ok, now Mom might still be asleep…” Tom warned her, placing a hand on her shoulder as they entered the house.

“Hello?” Just then, Y/N’s drowsy voice sounded from the kitchen.

“Mama!” Indie exclaimed, catapulting herself in that direction. Y/N, who was wearing a baggy, vintage university sweatshirt and pajama shorts, kneeled down to scoop her into a hug. Tom grinned at them from the kitchen entryway, and Y/N greeted him, glancing at the bouquet and tray of cups he held, her face lighting up.

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked, standing up and reaching toward the cups, recognizing the café logo. “Mm, love you.” She bestowed a peck on Tom’s cheek. “What’s this?” she focused in on the flowers.

“Indie picked them out for you,” he gestured to their daughter, who was already becoming preoccupied by the cat and how she might go about picking him up.

“Thank you, honey,” Y/N said, playfully tousling Indie’s hair.

“She did a nice job. She already has your artistic sensibilities,” Tom chuckled. “Or at least your obsession with pink.”

“Then I’m doing something right,” Y/N laughed.

“She thinks my cars are ugly and told me I should get a ‘Barbie pink’ one.”

Y/N shook from laughter. “Y’know, this kid has a lot of good ideas.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

#tom cruise #one shot #creative writing #fanfic #tom cruise fic #tom cruise imagine #tom cruise x female reader #tom cruise x reader #x reader #fanfiction #tom cruise fanfic #tom cruise fluff #fluff #imagine #self insert #reader insert #just for fun

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rymndsmth · 1 year

Text

come to me (namor)

warnings: uhh su*c*dal undertones, bpwf spoilers, probably plot holes but let’s ignore, it gets..nasty in a good way, google translate, I think that’s it but if not lmk and have fun I guess??

Streams of salt had caressed your face long before the rain came down. Too many times you’d been here before, mentally and physically. Why did everything end? And why did it always leave you feeling like you were being ripped apart like the storm bearing palms above your head?

It was dark, nearly too dark. The moon’s light had been all but obscured by the thick clouds. Yet, there was just enough illumination for you to make out the small cay in the distance. It had been abandoned long ago by some tycoon that once resided in the now crumbling ruins of an estate tucked deep between wild foliage.

Your friend, former friend, would sit on this very shoreline with you and whisper lofty aspirations into the air. I want to have enough money to own my own island, and we can drink and dance and bathe in the sun until we turn into raisins. Then, she would turn to you and always ask the same question, knowing about your strange ability. Have you ever swam to it?

The first time you’d discovered this inexplicable thing was at the age of five. An unspoken rite of passage by all natives, children being taught to swim by elders tossing them just deep enough into the sea. You were, of course, petrified as the water seemed to swallow you whole.

Then there was nothing. No flailing, no panic, no screams. You opened your eyes that didn’t even dare to burn as a small school of fish rushed by. And then you realized your lungs weren’t protesting.

In fact, they were expanding and contracting, but you weren’t inhaling. You were somehow breathing. Somehow submerged under crests of cerulean, you were breathing as if your toes were still tucked into warm sand.

When you floated back up, no one said a word to you. The elders simply clapped as they watched you paddle back to shore, offering you an ice pop as a treat. Their lack of reaction, in your juvenile mind, made you believe that what you’d experienced was normal.

So you thought nothing of it when you transferred to a school with a swimming pool, and dove to the bottom to sit for minutes. Bodies of your classmates rushed in, yanking you out of the water. They gasped and heaved and shook you. Maybe it was animal instinct that propelled you to do the same, eyes darting to take cues to see how you should be reacting as you mimicked their fear.

The only person who noticed was your then friend. She kept it to herself, not even daring to bring it up to you until a few weeks later during summer break. Her usually boisterous voice was timid as she asked you to show her. And you did. Since then, she’d ask you that same question and your answer was the same every time. No.

As curiosity instinctually dictated, she would further probe. Why not? You know you can easily make it. To that, you were never brave enough to conjure an honest response even though you thought it. What if someone saw you? There was already the risk of her knowing, but you trusted her. Not everyone would share the innocent fascination.

Even truer than those fears was the fact that you were too afraid. You’d never tested yourself beyond a few minutes below the surface, scared that you would lose a grip on whatever made you have the ability to breathe. Scared that you would wash up lifeless.

You peeled your rain drenched shirt from your body, and slipped out of your leggings to tie them around your waist. What was the point of letting the possibility of drowning scare you now? There was nothing left here for you anyway.

Though you truly believed that all the way down to your bones, you were still crying as you stepped into the raging ocean. They were only wiped away as you submerged, your legs sweeping behind you, arms slicing a path before you as you swam.

Minutes to an hour could’ve passed by the time you were crawling onto the distant cay’s sand. You were exhausted, winded from the strain on your muscles as you rolled onto your back to glance at the sky. The rain had stopped and the moon had been uncovered.

You smiled, and then laughed.

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you’d make it this far, so you had no clue of what to do now. You began to think that you should rest up and swim back, that would be the smart thing to do. What wasn’t was what you actually did.

You fought your way back into your pants and delved into the bushes in search of this hidden estate. Using your toes to sweep before you stepped, you snaked through trees until you laid your eyes upon something you thought only existed in movies.

The structure was worse for wear yet still beautiful. Remnants of a gate welcomed you and you strangely weren’t afraid to accept. Once you’d crossed the threshold, it was as if the air stilled.

The once singing bugs had ceased along with the rustling of leaves. You turned your head back to look behind you only for it to snap back forward at the unmistakable sound calling from within the ruins.

Come to me.

There was no plea in its inflection. It was a command. In the same way your late mother would summon you when you’d done something to displease her, the voice spoke. In the same way your feet would carry you to her though you knew a scolding awaited, you walked towards it.

There was no longer a door at the home once you padded up the driveway. The fine hairs on your arm stood to attention despite the humid air as you pivoted left, footsteps leading you down a passage that took you to descending stairs.

You blinked, confused at what you saw peeking from below. A soft glow, a source of light emanating from whatever laid at the bottom. You were overcome with the feeling that you were trespassing, unwelcome, and whatever was down there was going to punish you for it. Yet still, you took the steps one by one until your feet hit even ground.

At the sight of what laid before your eyes, you could’ve fallen to your knees. The ground in the middle of the room had completely caved in, leaving a large pool of water. All the way above it, the roof too had been lost, letting the moonlight cascade in. And between it, suspended in the air, was what looked like a man.

He looked like a man, but being was a more appropriate term. No man you knew had winged feet, pointed ears and were covered in ancient yet polished adornments. No man you knew could float over to your frozen figure with eyes that burned. Eyes that softened when he landed to tower over you, head tilting as he walked an excruciatingly slow circle around your body until he returned face to face.

His tongue floated a foreign language into the air. He tilted his head again, and you realized he must’ve asked you a question. The being practiced surprising patience as he waited for your reply.

“I-I don’t understand you.“ Your voice was rough. “I don’t speak…what you speak.”

“Do you not know what you are?” He asked in your language with a melodic accent.

Despite the furrow of your brow and the part of your lips at his inquiry, you knew your confusion masked what you truly felt. It was as if your soul had sighed finally. Though the answer to his question was no, you didn’t know.

You know what you were told by the world you’d been born into, by the learned behaviors, and socialization. But no, you didn’t know. All that you had been certain of since that very first time was that you weren’t the same as those who you lived among.

It made you feel isolated. You suffocated under this unknown truth, the truth that he seemed to be the only one to have knowledge of. The truth that he appeared to ache to give to you as he extended one large hand, and said:

“Come, let me show you.”

Any hesitation was brief if at all. His palm was much warmer than expected when you accepted his invitation, walking forwards as he treaded back until you were both neck deep in the water. The being gave you a reassuring nod, both hands falling to your waist.

And then you were sinking.

Falling deeper than you ever have before. It terrified you to watch the light above diminish to nothing, darkness embracing you both. How was he able to see, you wondered.

A question that would quickly be answered by your own senses that shuddered awake like a vehicle that had once been forgotten. You think you saw him smile then, but your eyes still adjusting to your surroundings left you unsure.

The descent felt endless. Your feet pointed, searching for the seemingly never coming end. What had to be hundreds if not thousands of meters below, the impossible occurred. There was light coming from beneath you.

He dropped his hold on you to take your hand again, rolling his body in practiced grace to swim head first towards the source. You did so not nearly as beautifully, eyes growing wider as the distant blur morphed into a landscape. A city not placed randomly, but carefully planned and constructed. And so, so many people. From infants to elders and everything in between, they swam and laughed and played.

If it weren’t obvious by the regalia adorning with his tanned skin, it was cemented by the way everyone you passed cleared a path. He was their leader, their king. They all offered a greeting, a bow of the head and palms appearing to hold an invisible orb. It was one he returned kindly as you followed closely to a large temple looming in the heart of the underwater city.

You were already speechless and amazed, but that paled in comparison to what you felt when you emerged from a small pool to find that you were inside stoned walls. Even further, it was completely dry leaving you with the ability to breathe through your nose.

“Where are we…who are you?” Your eyes swept around the room. Beautiful murals covered nearly every inch, bursting in color, sharing a narrative never seen in any book you’d read.

“My people call me K’uk’ulkan.” He spoke, combing his hair back with one hand before helping you from the water. “And this is Talokan. A place created for my people to protect them from outsiders.”

That last word made your blood run cold, something he seemed to sense. His dark gaze landed on yours and your breath hitched. It relayed a multitude of things that you couldn’t put your finger on.

“I’m not from here.” The statement felt silly falling past your lips. That much was obvious, though if examined your true implication would be caught. Why did you bring me to this place? Me, an outsider, the clear threat you’re protecting your people against?

“But here is where you belong.” His reply came to the unspoken question.

The being picked up a robe that had been folded on a stool and handed it to you. It was more than appreciated, a small thanks relayed to him as you covered your wet skin. He continued onto the mural covered walls with you on his heels.

“This tells the story of how we came to be.” He began.

It was a tale that started with something you actually knew. The brutality of invasion, it’s cruel and methodological execution. Desperation of the oppressed, the willingness to do anything to survive. A gift from the gods found by a shaman to offer the solution.

An iridescent plant lead to the creation of his people, but left them with no choice to dwell among creatures of the sea. His mother was pregnant while consuming this strange herb. She gave birth to him underwater, a child strikingly different from other Talokanil. A miracle who would be king.

Decades passed before he returned to land to lay his mother to rest, only to be met with horrors beyond comprehension. The result of a tamed reaction to highly monstrous behavior was a child being unfairly branded as sin amor for eternity. After such a devastating encounter, he decided to keep his people in isolation for safety.

“Your mother,” He turned to you. “Is she human?”

You blinked, eyes dropping to the ground. “She was.”

That you were sure of. She didn’t hold the same capacity to breath underwater like you did. Warm fingers jolted you, curling around your jaw to lift your head once again. The look he gave you mirrored on you’d seen in your own reflection. Of course, after centuries of living he knew loss better than anyone.

“And your father?” His voice was softer.

“I know nothing about him.” You shrugged.

He made a sound and nodded.

Two Talokanil entered the room. They appeared to be high ranking based on their clothing and weapons. An exchanged was made in the strange language he’d spoken to you initially before the male warrior departed.

“Namora will take you somewhere to eat and rest.” He peered at the woman that lingered near the door.

There was something about the way he spoke. Every word he said carried conviction, leaving no room for rebuttal. He talked, and everybody else listened. You awkwardly shuffled away in compliance with his command.

Namora didn’t utter a single word to you as you followed her along the stone corridor. You tried not to stare at the passing faces, though they surveyed you until you were out of eyeshot. The quarters you were taken to was anything but quaint.

Though minimal, it was what you imagined esteemed guests of royal families occupied on visits. There was a large bed sunken in the middle of the floor, a pedestal tub seemingly cut from a precious gem to the corner in the right, a dressing area to the left, and a small table with two chairs beside the entry.

“Food’s on the table, and clothing’s on the bed.” The silent soldier spoke before leaving.

You hadn’t even noticed the much needed garment at the foot of the bed, or the fact that you were starving until your stomach caved at a familiar scent. A plate of steamed fish and fresh vegetables were uncovered, and you wasted no time consuming it all.

The lack of privacy with the exposed bath gave you pause. After short deliberation, you decided the quicker you got it over with, the less of a chance you’d be disturbed. Once that assumption was confirmed, you slipped on the soft cream dress left folded for you.

For the first time since…everything you thought you knew was obliterated, you had a moment to think. Sleep came eventually, but not before your mind ran a marathon.

A whole new species, and entire settlement lived right beneath you this entire time. History knew nothing of it or its inhabitants. Talokanil that you somehow descended from.

With never knowing your father, you would most likely never get the answers to who or what he truly was. That didn’t seem to matter much to you anymore because for once, you didn’t feel out of place. You might not have been born here, and might be looked at as an outsider to those who were, but K’uk’ulkan’s words resonated deeper than any of that. Here is where you belong.

Which begged the biggest question: would you stay? There were countless times in your life you’d asked yourself that. The only difference between then and now was the fact that you’d found somewhere that you didn’t have to hide. A place to live, to be yourself unashamed and unafraid.

When you rose from you slumber and met with K’uk’ulkan per his request, he posed to same inquiry. Your answer was swift and sure, matching the conviction with which he’d spoken to you with before. Yes.

From that moment forward, you got to know your new home.

The Talokanil were the epitome of a community. They worked together to create a well oiled machine of a society. Everyone completed their role not for some bottom line or individualistic aspiration, but because it was what was needed. What they took joy in.

You found your place in the garden. Helping the others grow and tend to fruits and vegetables that you all harvested to eat in a vast dining hall. You’d began to pick up bits and pieces of their language, naturally the words that made children giggle were the first of them.

From time to time, but admittedly not nearly as often as you’d liked, you saw K’uk’ulkan. He would sometimes accompany you as you swam to the garden, or walk with you along the temple corridors. Your seamless adjustment pleased him. When he smiled at hearing you describe your time so far to him, you found yourself wishing he’d do it more often.

It was difficult not to think about him. His towering height, perpetually bare abdomen, thighs chorded with strong muscle and shorts that left very little to the imagination above them. It was difficult to quell your natural urges as well. A shameless amount of nights found you relieving yourself of mounted pressure to his image.

Weeks had passed by like that.

You floated amongst the people, occasionally tangling in spins and twirls as you danced in celebration of a highly fruitful harvest. Some kids managed to rope you into a ball game, which went better than expected given that you’d had some sweet wine.

Festivities continued, and showed no signs of slowing even as you bowed out. Making your way back to your chambers, you spotted K’uk’ulkan. You greeted him formally, not expecting much of an exchange until his hand closed around your wrist.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked, stepping behind you.

Your breathing shallowed, head tilting to follow his movement. His body was so close that you felt his warmth. Every ounce of strength you contained had to be called upon for you not to push yourself back. Just the slightest arch would brush you against him.

“Yes, it was the best night of my life.” You managed to get out.

“So far.” There was a hint of a smile in his voice.

You repeated his words with inflection covered in confusion, posed back to him as a question. So far? Normally you wouldn’t dare to speak as you did in that moment. Perhaps it was the wine going to your head, or the warmth pooling between your thighs that made you feel bold enough to do so.

“I see a better one in the future,” His voice travelled until his lips hovered by your ear. “But I need to be sure before that happens.”

Your eyes darted to the side and you wished you hadn’t dared to look. He anticipated your move, immediately locking in your gaze. Your lips parted, waiting for your tongue to regain control of itself to speak again.

“Sure of what?” You whispered.

K’uk’ulkan looked down at your exposed shoulder and then back to you. “That you won’t break when I take you.”

By the time what he’d said had hit you, he was long gone.

It left you in agony. Tormenting your mind that entire night and the days that followed. Wreaking havoc on your nerves each time you ran into him afterwards, his actions and words never once hinting towards those corridor murmurs.

Why, you wanted to shout at him. Why would you say that to me with no further explanation? But mostly importantly, the thing you wanted to plead to him was, when? When would he deem you ready?

It was a call that would be answered after you’d earned the respect of even Namora. The gardens were positioned on the furthest borders of Talokan, leaving it open to the odd stray that also inhabited the ocean.

You’d noticed that the little boy who usually helped you trim plants had been gone for too long. It wasn’t unusual for kids to end up dragged away by friends, but your instincts told you otherwise. They were confirmed to be right when you swam outside to see him tangled in a struggle with a large octopus.

Without second thought, you launched forward. Equipped with the overwhelming need to protect him and your small shears, you hacked at the limbed creature until it succumbed under your relentless jabs.

The commotion drew the attention of others, all of who bore witness to your killing blow. A few warriors collected the octopus, pulling it to be prepared for a dinner in your honor that night.

You grew bashful under all the fuss, especially knowing that anyone here would’ve done the same. But that was how the Talokanil were. Nothing was taken for granted, every reason to celebrate was done with the utmost reverence.

A beautiful dress awaited you when you were sent to change in your quarters. The light blue gown with a dangerously low plunging neckline and two high slits billowed as you swam along a guard of honor. It held one road only, cutting through the city center to K’uk’ulkan who sat upon his throne in full ceremonial attire.

You bowed before him and he greeted you accordingly. He floated down, extending a beautiful jade hilted dagger with an intricate design etched into its blade. Your fingers brushed his as you accepted, testing your grip under its weight.

“Talokan owes you a life.” He said loud enough only for your ears. “How fitting would it be if it were my heir?”

The thousands of eyes all zeroed in on you had virtually been forgotten. You fell deeper into his brown eyes, sinking and sinking until you were snapped out of your reverie by a loud cry from towards the city. Na’akal, Talokan!

They cried back the same, floating up in unison and surrounding you both. Cheers and praises rang out, hand brushing you adoringly as you were pulled along by their king through the mass of bodies.

K’uk’ulkan took you to his chambers that was vastly different from yours. His walls were covered in breathtaking patterns etched in every color imaginable. There was a large pool in the middle, a sprawling bed, and an impressive skylight that spanned the entire roof.

“Before I start,” His fingers slipped beneath the straps of your dress. “I want you to touch yourself until you tremble. Do it to the thought of me, just as you have countless times before. Make yourself cum for me until I’m satisfied.”

You were shuddering long before you felt his lips against the back of your neck. This time, you didn’t hold yourself back from leaning into him. A gasped fell from your mouth at the feeling of his bulge against your lower back. He dropped your wet dress to the floor with one swift movement, pushing you with his hips in the direction of the bed.

Your face was already hot, flushed with the blood that flowed to your cheeks. You slid back onto the mattress and spread your legs for him. K’uk’ulkan slipped into the pool not far from the foot of the bed, wading through the water so gracefully that ripples feared to form.

He watched you intently as you swiped two fingers between your folds, shaking and shocked at the amount of wetness you already felt. You circled your clit, hips following the movement. Small pants melted into whimpers when you plunged them into your core.

Your chest heaved, head lulling to the side as you fucked yourself for his pleasure. He took in your pussy that swallowed your fingers greedily, using them to chase release that thrashed in your stomach like a caged animal.

When it broke free, you were crying out. With your velvety walls squeezing your digits with each wave, you shook and whined. After floating down from your high, your eyes found his. They blinked at you slowly.

“Tu ka’atéen.” K’uk’ulkan commanded.

Your bottom lip protested between your teeth as you complied. You pulled and pushed your hips back and forth, sliding from tips to knuckles. The noise of your juices spilling out of you echoed from the walls along with your soft moans.

With your free hand, you balled the duvet in your fist. The second of the beasts escaped and all the air was knocked from your lungs. Your back arched, legs clamping shut on themselves as it wreaked havoc on its way out.

“Tu ka’atéen.” He repeated.

You wanted to curse at him. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to stretch you out, to make it known to all the ears still celebrating that you were his from your praising screams. You’d do anything for that.

So with all you had, you propped onto your elbow and began to rub your clit. The tenderness of the nerve left you a writhing mess in milliseconds. Your hips jolted and spasmed, every instinct begging you to stop. Still, you continued until you were no longer able to hold yourself up.

You collapsed flat onto the bed, breasts heaving as you brought yourself to another high. Tu ka’atéen. And another. Your vision had black spots by the time he rose from the water to join you in the bed.

His cool hands cupped your face and finally, he kissed you. It was controlled chaos, navigated by the hot tongue and salty lips of its creator. Your hands threaded into his dark wet hair, tugging on the strands hard enough for him to nip your bottom lip in warning.

“Will you bear my heir?” K’uk’ulkan rasped. “Will you be my queen?”

You nodded so frantically, so desperately that it nearly made your head spin. You’d do anything for him. Kill for him, die for him. He was beyond worthy of such sacrifices.

For him to utter such words to you was perplexing, but you didn’t care enough to delve into semantics. There was never a time where he didn’t mean what he said. This occasion marked you as no different.

“Je’el.” You breathed.

That was all he needed to hear before he was making true on his promise.

The harvest celebration felt like child’s play in comparison to what he did to your body. K’uk’ulkan dove between your legs, lapping up all the ruin you’d created at his relentless requests.

His name fell like a chant, a praise, a prayer from your parched lips. Your legs dared to struggle against his iron clad grip that forced them to remain on either side of his head. Tears flowed to the pillow below as you slurred incoherent sentences.

A string of pleas. Simultaneously begging for him to stop making you feel so damned good, but to fuck you so deep that you didn’t know where your body ended and the mattress began.

With a cruelly slow push of his hips, his cock entered you until his body was flush to yours. Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him locked there as he began to thrust in and out at a steady pace.

K’uk’ulkan’s large hands pressed your hips down, steadying their foolish attempt to speed things up. He wanted to feel every ripple of your pussy, to feel every micro-reaction his girthy cock drew out of you. Your nails raked at his back, teeth sinking into his shoulder with his tip just reaching but deliberately not touching the spot that craved him the most.

“Please…” You pulled back to press your forehead to his, eyes shining. “Please, I…”

“Shh,” He hushed you. “You’re doing so well, in reina.”

His words made you whine, your head collapsing back onto the pillow. He dipped his head to lap up the sweat stuck to your skin. From your collarbones to your breast, his tongue licked and his lips sucked as he continued the tortuously slow strokes that evaded your g-spot.

It was both a moment of relief and a shock that left you screaming oh fuck when he placed your legs over his shoulders, giving you what you’d begged for. K’uk’ulkan drove his cock powerfully, mercilessly into your pussy. Right beneath your navel you felt him hit and bottom out, over and over and over.

A high pitched cry ripped its way out of you, toes curling as you bucked so wildly that even he struggled to tame you. Your hands grasped wildly all around, moving up his back to his shoulders and to his neck.

K’uk’ulkan made the most glorious sound when they brushed the pointed tips of his ears. It lit something ablaze in him, compelling him to sit back on his heels and taking you with him. His hands grabbed your ass, using you to work his cock.

Another string of unintelligible words were drawn from you. He grew more vocal, groaning and grunting against your mouth. And with the single most beautiful noise you’d ever heard, he shot his warm seed deep into you.

Connected with him in every was more than enough, yet you hungered. You wanted him again and again until his gaze alone made you recoil from overstimulation. You craved to taste him, for him to use your mouth until your throat was raw.

All fantasies he made come to life, and then some. K’uk’ulkan never tired of you nor did you of him. The solstice gave way for the equinox and there you both remained, panting and shaking in tandem.

You managed to stay apart long enough to at last complete a formal union ritual. Your body was cleansed in a sweet milky bath before it was adorned in a striking gold gown made of vibranium. A matching headpiece was bestowed to you for the final touch.

The entire city watched as you appeared, your king waiting for you at his throne. K’uk’ulkan beckoned to you with an outstretched hand:

“Ko'oten tin wiknal.”

Come to me.

You ascended.

#namor #namor x reader #namor mcu #namor imagine #fics.n

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