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declareqenius · 1 month

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some would sing and some would scream

summary: your girlfriends are two of the best mob bosses in the city. you and natasha were out for a nightly walk, both feeling restless as you awaited wanda’s return from a business trip. it was going well, until someone got the jump on both of you.

pairings: WandaNat x Reader

warnings: blood, violence, knives, being tied up, stabbing, passing out

a/n: hey guys! here’s another one. i have no idea how mobs work, which is probably a good thing, but i hope it makes enough sense. second part, anyone? let me know what you think! wanda is barely here but is mentioned throughout.

Part 1 | Part 2

It’s been days since you and Natasha have seen Wanda. Days, maybe a week, since you were both taken by the henchmen of an enemy family; the Celestials. They have nerve, you’ll give them that, but you know as soon as Wanda and the rest of your family finds your location, they won’t know what hit them.

The metal chair is cold against your legs and the restraints around your wrists are digging uncomfortably into your skin. You know the more you struggle, the worse it will be, but you need to at least try. There are cuts on either cheek and one gash on your thigh- which is exposed because you decided to wear shorts that fated day. You started regretting your decision yesterday because they kept their torture room freezing, and although you reside in New York, the cold has never been- and never will be- your friend.

Natasha sits next you in a chair identical to yours. Her restraints are different, though, and it’s obvious the Celestials know how big of a threat she is. She’s continuously struggled to get out of them and your heart pangs in your chest because part of you knows it’s because she hates seeing you hurt.

Your girlfriend is safe from cuts and gashes and it’s all due to them wanting to get under her skin. They know of the relationship you share with the two powerful mob leaders, and they’re trying to use it to their advantage.

Natasha doesn’t break easily. Neither does Wanda. Everyone knows this, including you, but Nat barely lasted ten minutes when Najma- the leader of the Celestials- started dragging the knife across your thigh. She begged her to take her instead, but Najma was quick to assure that any torture you faced would be dragged out.

“Nat. Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep struggling.” Your firm voice cuts through the thick silence and leaves no room for argument. You’d stopped struggling five minutes ago when you realized it wouldn’t help, but Natasha kept it up and the redness around her wrists started to worry you.

“I need to get out before they come in again. Need to get you untied.” Her voice is gravelly and preoccupied, and her plight is obvious. The only thoughts swarming her head are about getting you out of there unharmed.

“And then what? You fight them off with nothing and we die trying to escape? We leave Wanda alone? She’ll never forgive us for that. We have to think about this, Natasha.”

You’re honestly surprised how calm you were, considering the situation. But you know Wanda is on a murderous rampage and Natasha is going through anger induced anxiety at the mere thought of either of you not making it out of this, so you’re left being the reasonable one.

“I am thinking about this, Y/N!”

Her chair clangs to a halt as she stops struggling with a frustrated huff. You know that if the two of you weren’t in the hands of your family’s greatest rival, then your girlfriend would let her tears flow free. The only sign that she had any intent of crying before she remembered where you were was her red nose.

“I’m thinking about it,” she says defeatedly, yet firmly. “Najma is going to come back any minute and she is going to harm you in unimaginable ways and I can’t stop her because I’m tied to this stupid fucking chair.”

“Natty,” you say softly, “look at me, please?”

God, you wish you could reach out and touch her. It takes a moment for her to find some semblance of composure so she can look you in the eyes instead of staring guiltily at the gash in your thigh.

“Listen to me, okay? I need you to hear me,” you start, waiting until Natasha subtly nods her head to continue, “You aren’t going to tell them anything. No matter what they do to me-”

“But-”

“No. Listen. Whatever they do to me, I need you to grin and bear it until Wanda gets here or you have a secure plan to get us out. It’s going to be painful for both of us, but I’m a big girl, I can handle it, okay?”

“Detka, I don’t know if I can-”

“Natalia. I knew what I was getting into the moment you and Wanda told me what you did for a living. I knew it would happen eventually. There’s only so much protecting my knights in shining fedoras,” you give her a gentle grin at your joke, “can do. I need you to promise me. No matter how much pain I’m in. We need to wait it out. That’s all we can do right now, my love.”

Natasha looks like she desperately wants to argue again, but you both know she’s only got so much fight left and she needs to save it for when Najma comes back. You try not to imagine what the leader of the Celestials has in store for you; which ways your body will be bloodied and scarred, but it’s hard when Natasha’s brain is going a mile a minute and the blood from the gash on your leg won’t stop dripping down your thigh.

“Do you remember our very first date?” You ask, a small smile on your face as you look up at your girlfriend.

“Malysh-”

“Nat, please. I can’t sit in silence.”

She sighs and looks away for a moment. To compose herself. You fear that sentence nearly sent her over the edge, but a moment later she nods.

“Like it was yesterday. Wands and I had thirty minutes to clean ourselves up after having gotten back from taking care of something. We were so worried we were going to be late, and so we texted you that work held us up for longer than we anticipated. You were so patient with us. You still are so patient with us.”

“Have to be with you two. Who knows what kind of trouble you got into when it was just the both of you parading around. Someone has to keep you in check, make sure you have something, someone to come home to. Both of you.”

“And we cherish every moment we get to spend with you, detka.”

Natasha says it so sincerely and it pushes you over the edge. Your eyes start watering and while it’s not a full-on sob, your tears do fall because you know where Natasha’s mind has gone. Where it has been this entire time.

Then, it feels as if all the air in the room is sucked out. All the love you felt from Natasha moments ago is gone when you see her face switch to one you had only seen a handful of times. Your girlfriends try to keep you out of the business as much as they can, but you were still privy to some things. Natasha’s expression looked distant and blank, and you hear clapping from the far right corner of the room.

Your heart sinks to your stomach, but you keep your features neutral.

Najma.

“Aw, how sweet. Quite a show you both put on. If this were reality television, my family would be rooting for you. Little lovebirds. It’s a shame your other girlfriend isn’t here. I’m sure it would spice things up.”

“If she were here, you would be dead already,” you snark.

“Dorogoy-” Natasha starts in warning, but Najma is quick to cut her off.

“It’s okay, Ms. Romanova. She won’t be able to... joke around much once I’m done with her. I must say, I have been quite lenient and I am a sucker for a love story, but I fear it is time to get some answers. So, every time you refuse to answer one of my questions, your little girlfriend here will endure some kind of pain. Haven’t decided yet. Won’t decide until that moment. Whatever feels right, I suppose. Nod to let me know you understand.”

Natasha nods.

Your eyes bore holes into the side of her head and you hope she hears your pleas. Your reminders.

“Good. We’ll start off easy, then.” Najma takes her knife out of her boot and slowly walks over to you. She places the tip on your upper arm. The way she’s looking at you, as if you were a turkey to be carved instead of eaten and enjoyed, chills you to the bone.

“What is your name?” Najma directs the question towards Natasha.

“Natasha Romanova-Maximoff.”

“Hm. That’ll do. What is your wife’s name?”

“Wanda Romanova-Maximoff.”

These were all answers that Najma knew already, and you’re unsure of why she’s wasting time. Not that you’re complaining. The more time she takes to interrogate Natasha, the more time Wanda has to find you both. The only name Najma shouldn’t know is yours. Natasha hasn’t once used it since you’ve been kidnapped, and you figure it’s for a reason. Your only family is the one you were welcomed into when you officially became Wanda and Natasha’s girlfriend, but your name not being out there kept you safer.

“And what is your girlfriend’s name?”

There it is.

You glance at Natasha, fully aware of the knife on your arm but deeming it safe enough to move the slightest amount. Natasha’s eyes catch yours and you don’t have to plead with her this time. Her decision was made the moment her green eyes met your own.

Keeping your name a secret gives both of you a better chance when Wanda breaks the both of you out of this place.

So, when Natasha moves her eyes from yours to look at Najma, you prepare yourself for the pain.

The redhead doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. Najma knows it isn’t a question she’s going to answer simply by the blank determination written across her face.

“Very well then,” the Celestial leader says, bored as she drags the knife slowly across your upper arm.

You stare at Natasha the entire time.

Natasha stares at your arm, and you know it is her way of punishing herself.

As if being locked in a freezing room with no way out wasn’t punishment enough. Your girlfriend forces herself to watch as one of her foes marks your body with their knife. Their torture.

It makes her angry and she clenches both her jaw and her fists to keep herself from pulling on the restraints, having learned her lesson twenty minutes earlier.

Wanda will never let her live this down.

You’re glad it’s not Wanda with you. She would have been able to kill everyone by now, but if they had put special cuffs on her and made her watch as they tortured you, you know she would have given everything up to ensure you lived.

You appreciate how much your girls love you, but the family wouldn’t have been able to take that kind of hit. So, you’re glad it’s Natasha who is with you, and maybe you’ll get the chance to reiterate that to Wanda someday soon. It will surely keep them from biting each other’s heads off while you’re recovering.

“Next question.”

You can hear the Cheshire Cat-like grin Najma wore as she placed the knife in a different spot on your body. This time, your thigh, about two inches higher than the first gash she gave you.

“Where is the Mind stone?”

Again, Natasha doesn’t answer and you audibly keel over in pain when the knife creates an identical gash to the one that came before it.

Again, Natasha watched the knife slide across your thigh.

“Hard eggs to crack, but I have only just begun.”

Now, Najma is in front of you and you barely have enough time to process the cool metal of the knife being dragged down your face. Your breathing is heavy, but you muster the most spiteful expression you can.

“I would really hate to see this beautiful face marred, Natasha. It would be such a shame. She could pose for those magazines. I hear it is great work, but enough small talk. Maybe I won’t have to mar your beautiful face, my little paaltoo.”

You decide then that you only like Urdu when Kamala speaks it.

“All Natasha has to do is give me the location of the Mind stone and your pretty little face will go unmarked. Don’t worry, it will only hurt a little bit. It’s more of a... reminder for your lovers.”

Even if your girlfriend’s face remains neutral, you can tell she’s seething on the inside. You glance at her for a moment and you know that you need to stall more. Enough for Wanda to find both of you. Nat can’t do anything but not answer Najma’s questions, and eventually Najma will tire of the game she’s playing. Who knows what that would look like? You doubt she would kill you quickly and undermine the work she’s already done on you, but if Najma doesn’t have something to quell her violent hunger, you don’t know what will happen to you or Natasha.

So, you have to keep Najma entertained. Interested. Piece of cake.

When you know that her focus is on Natasha’s expression and not your “pretty little face”, you send a guilty look to your girlfriend. Better to ask for forgiveness later. Then, you muster up all your courage and remember all the times you’ve seen Wanda and Natasha interrogate people, and you speak.

“What makes you think Natasha will talk? You’ve gotten this far and she hasn’t said a word. Maybe she doesn’t care about me as much as you think she does.”

“Mm, you’re not going to get me that easy my little paaltoo, I hear how she speaks to you. How she looks at you. And how she seethes every time my blade runs across your delicate skin. The love this woman holds for you is insurmountable. Don’t think me a fool.”

“You picked the wrong one.”

“Excuse me?”

Blood runs down the side of your arm and thigh and you’ve long forgotten how to feel the searing pain.

“The wrong girlfriend. You should’ve picked Wanda. Natasha is tough to crack but she’s been through a lot. Wanda, though? Wanda has a heart of gold and the sight of me in danger would have had her spilling all of her secrets. Or it would have sent her on a murderous rampage and we’d be out of here already, but you never know. All I’m saying is that Wanda would have given you so much more than Natasha ever will.”

Your nonchalance must have been jarring to both the women in the room, and you’re certain that Yelena, your best friend, would have been proud of you.

“I’m holding a knife to your face and you have the audacity to judge my methods?”

Najma pierces your skin with the point of the blade and it almost makes you laugh.

“What are you going to do? Kill me? You would lose leverage over Wanda and Natasha. You wouldn’t give that up so easily.”

“And what makes you think I couldn’t find something else they hold dear to them?”

“You would be searching for the rest of your life.”

It’s a big statement. Words that probably hold a lot more weight than anything you have ever said before, but you’re aware of what you mean to your girlfriends. How all of you balance each other out in ways that no one expects upon first meeting the three of you. In fact, you’re so certain of your feelings for them and vice versa, that if you make it out of this alive, then you’re going to propose to them.

Wanda would absolutely kill Natasha if you didn’t make it out of this alive. Guilt would eat both of them up, but better one of you makes it out than neither of you.

Another slash of the knife on your cheek and you can feel the sting of the blade as Najma follows all the way through with a flick of her wrist.

“Natasha, tell you girlfriend to shut up.”

“I’ve never listened to Natasha.” You’re a bit of a brat sometimes, it’s true. “Besides, I’m going to bleed out soon anyway. Then my lovely girlfriend won’t have anyone to talk to. That would be such a shame because I’m a gem.”

You decide then that you’ve stalled long enough, and really all you did was give your already gushing wounds time to bleed even more. The light headedness is starting to catch up to you and you sincerely hope that you’ve done enough.

Najma doesn’t pay any mind to your talking, probably realizing what exactly it is that you were doing, and instead she focuses on Natasha again.

“I will ask one more time.”

This time Najma positions the knife in front of your stomach and you don’t know if she’s going to stab you or cut you, but you’re not sure she knows either. Frantic green eyes lock onto yours as you get a good look at Natasha. Your eyes are calm as you try memorize everything from the way her braid sits on the side of her shoulder to the perfect shape of her lips. Fear pulses through you and you know that somehow it is not entirely your own, but you shake your head all the same.

You will not be the reason your family falls. You will not be the reason that Wanda and Natasha have no home to go back to.

“Where. Is. The Mind stone?”

Nat’s eyes are pleading but yours remain blank and you know she has to bring forth years and years of training to look away from you and instead at Najma. So the woman holding the knife can see the defiance in her eyes along with her lips pursed in a straight line. Natasha isn’t going to say a word.

The knife plunges into your left side and you don’t scream, you aren’t going to give your captor that satisfaction, but the sound you do make is enough to have Natasha looking away and a single tear rolling down her cheek. To your confusion, though, Najma doesn’t withdraw the weapon. She leaves the blade inside of you and brushes off her hands before grabbing you by the chin so you can look directly in her eyes.

“Don’t breathe too hard, my little paaltoo, otherwise a vital organ will be caught and I would so love to torture you more later.”

With that, she lets go of you and walks out. You think that having to look into that woman’s eyes was worse than any of the torture she’s inflicted on you.

“Natty,” you breathe, voice worn and your eyes wanting to shut already. You’ve never been stabbed before and the pain plus your other wounds is too much.

“Detka, I’m so sorry,” Natasha’s voice breaks and your heart aches for her.

“Shhh. Don’t apologize, my love.” Breathing is starting to get really hard. “Natty I need to tell you something.”

“Anything, malyshka.”

You know Nat is desperate to keep you talking. Keep you awake. Alive. You don’t want to give up just yet. Wands will be here soon, you can feel it.

“I think,” your head lolls to the side for a moment, “I think I only,” you breathe in and out, “like Urdu when Kamala,” you swallow because your mouth feels really dry all of a sudden, “speaks it.”

“Me too, detka. Me too.”

You can feel yourself fading, and you don’t think the knife has hit anything vital yet, but maybe a nap would help lessen the pain. Just a quick one.

Your head lolls forward and it jostles the blade a little. You can hear Natasha’s panic, how her voice wavers and breaks as she addresses you.

“Detka, baby, you’re doing so good for me, love. You’ve done so good. I need you to hold on just a little bit longer, okay? Just a little longer. For Wanda. Please, baby. Need you to stay awake.”

You blink your eyes open and muster enough strength to look up at her.

“I’m so tired, Natty.”

“I know, baby. I know, but I need you for just a little longer, okay?”

“I don’t know if I can, Natty.”

Breathing hurts and blood is sticky. Your head once again droops forward.

“Please. Please, Y/N!”

Natasha’s cries are suddenly drowned out by the door opening. You assume it’s Najma, because even in your drowsy state, you didn’t miss the fact that Natasha screamed your name.

But then there’s an explosion and you’re able to open your eyes just enough to see swirls of scarlet red surrounding the room. You can’t hang on any longer, but you hope that Wanda and Natasha will forgive you as you finally let your eyes close all the way and your body slump forward in the metal chair you were tied to.

The last thing you felt was Natasha’s hands on you, trying to wake you up, and the last thing you heard was Wanda’s agonizing screams.

#wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #they're all having a really great time #reader goes through it #wanda is never going to let natasha live this down #wanda will also never let reader out of her sight ever again #natasha won't either

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feyhunter78 · 10 months

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Pink Pastels' Masterlist

Pt 1: Pink Pastels -> the meme Pt 2: O'Hara Household Pt 3: Back at Your Apartment🔥 Pt 4: Miguel's Day (sorta 🔥) Pt 5: The Street at Night -> the meme Pt 6: Field Trip Pt 7: Inside the Zoo Pt 8: Through the Daisy Chain🔥 -> the meme

Pt 9: The Sports Bar

Pt 10: Rooftop🔥 -> the meme

Pt 11: Your Classroom

Pt 12: Sick Day Pt 13: Your New Apartment Pt 14: Your Balcony🔥 Pt 15: Gabi's Bedroom Pt 16: The O'Hara's Livingroom

Pt 17: Clubbing to Your Apartment Building

Pt 18: Nightfall in Nueva York -> the meme, the other meme Pt 19: Breakfast Date🔥 Pt 20: Miguel's Couch🔥

Pt 21: Date Night Pt 22: A Chaotic Day Pt 23: Your Living Room, Miguel's Doorway Pt 24: Ava vs Y/N Pt 25: The Aftermath (sorta 🔥) Pt 26: The Aftermath of the Aftermath🔥 Pt 27: The O'Hara's Bedroom🔥 Pt 28: Alchemax Gala Pt 29: Dinner at the Gala Pt 29.5: 2000 Follower Celebration/flashback Pt 30: A Side Room Pt 31: After the Gala Pt 32: The Principal's Office Pt 33: Apron Strings🔥 Pt 34: Tiffany Robins Pt 35: The Newest O'Hara Finished!!!!

#meg's writing #meg's masterlist #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #Miguel's pastels #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel

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somekindofpoet · 11 months

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Missed Connection 4

Summary: A flight delay causes a chance meeting between R and Jenna Ortega

Word Count: 4.2K

A/N: Did I write this as several needles deposit ink into my skin? Maybe. When the muse strikes, she strikes.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Finding work for the Met Gala is shockingly easy. After your shoot with Dior, the fashion houses are practically banging on your door for more.

Sid had the right connections and got you front and center for the “not red” red carpet. You’d be snapping photos of celebrities and fashion icons all night, but most importantly, you’d be in the same vicinity as Jenna.

Her text back to you after you’d informed her you were going was incomprehensible. Mostly emojis and capital letters that didn’t make any kind of sense. It was safe to say she was excited.

You only had a few days to prepare for the trip, so you don’t see her at all. You text a lot, with a brief phone call here and there when you’re both between work. You know you can’t play dumb anymore. This is clearly more than friendship.

The thought of that sends conflicting emotions through you, twisting in your gut and making your heart race. Jenna’s world is one of many flashing lights, screaming people, flights, and mind-crushing work. It’s the opposite of what you thought you wanted for yourself. Your peaceful nature blinds, silent aside from the calls of birds and rustling of snow or grass. The images are so contrasting that it makes your head hurt.

But Jenna. She’s impossible to ignore. She’s beautiful; of course, she is. But there’s more to her there that people gloss over. Pieces of her you want to dig up and hold close to your heart like buried treasures. Sometimes it seems she wants to shy away from the limelight just as much as you do, but her work doesn’t afford her the reprieve. Other times, she appears so natural, so alluring in front of the camera you think she couldn’t be hidden away from the world.

Regardless of your hesitance, you find yourself smiling every time her name comes up on your phone. And the thought of seeing her at the Met just nails your coffin closed. You’re actively choosing to be at one of the most prestigious fashion events in the world, for her.

You were in denial about this fact until Dani was kind enough to slap you into some common sense. Her words were something along the lines of “You’re so delusional if you think you’re not taking your ass all the way across the country to photograph people you don’t give two shits about just because she asked you to.”

She’s right. You know she is. The fact grows in your chest with every article of clothing you fold up and place in your suitcase. It’s there lingering in the back of your mind when you pick out what you’re going to wear while you’re at the Met. It’s there when Jenna texts you before her flight takes off, and when she gives you her hotel and her room number.

You’re screwed, buddy.

You’re a ball of anxiety on the flight from LA to New York. Usually, you sleep like the dead as soon as the plane engines roar to life, but this time you just can’t still your mind. The movies on the plane are not distracting enough, your book seems dry suddenly, and all you can think about is Jenna Ortega.

What will she wear? What will she think of what you’re wearing? Does it matter? Will she talk to you at the event? Why did she give you her hotel room number? Should you go there? Is that even allowed?

You sigh, blowing your hair away from your face. The woman sitting next to you side-eyes you, probably tired of your fidgeting. In an effort to distract yourself, you bite the bullet and pay the (frankly insane) price for the in-air wifi and open your texts.

Dani has sent several messages, both encouraging and slightly threatening. Her version of consolation comes with aggressive pep talks. You don’t think you can handle her right now. You turn to the only person on your mind, figuring if she’s going to occupy your thoughts all day, she may as well soothe your anxiety too. She already texted you as of an hour ago.

Jenna

Can’t wait till you’re here!

Y/N

Only an hour out! You ready for tonight?

The blue bubbles appear at the bottom of your screen almost immediately, as if she’s been waiting for your message.

Jenna

Sitting in hair and make up now. I might die in this chair

You grin, picturing her bored out of her mind while Enrique fusses at the other stylists, perfecting his vision for her look.

Y/N

Already?!

Jenna

As Enrique loves to say, beauty takes patience…kill me

Y/N

Is that what’s wrong with my style?

Jenna

Please you look good in everything. Just don’t ever hire a stylist. Theyre supposed to make your lives easier……

Jenna

Took a brush to the skull for that joke. Hope you appreciate it

You chuckle to yourself, earning another glance from the woman next to you. You shrug at her and look back down at your phone.

Y/N

The woman in the seat next to me did not appreciate it, but I did

Y/N

I think she hates me actually

Jenna

I can have her killed. If youre interested.

Y/N

Have me killed instead, put me out of my misery

Jenna

About tonight…

Y/N

Jenna

I was hoping you’d come to the afterparty with me

You grimace, sucking air between your teeth. As much as you want to spend time with her, the Met Gala afterparty may as well be your worst nightmare. Luckily, you’re saved by the party’s policy against cameras.

Y/N

I cant, no press allowed. Technically I’m press.

Jenna

Damn. Thats right

Y/N

I’ll make it up to you

Jenna

I’ll hold you to that

—---

It feels strange, being back in the airport where you first met Jenna. The memory of you crashing into her and your conversation after has you grinning as you hustle through the crowds. It's almost enough to make you forget how badly you want out of the airport.

The city is in chaos, as it always is. But it’s more than usual, people coming in for the Gala, to attend or to stalk outside of the hotels. Vogue has put you up in a hotel near Jenna’s, as close to the Met as possible. There are already masses of people gathered outside, craning their necks as you enter to see if they know you. A quiet rumbling passes like a wave through the throng of bodies, whispers as jostling as they watch you push your way to the door.

“Is that the girl that was with Jenna last week?”

“No way, what are the odds?”

“Check your Twitter dude, it’s totally her!”

“The pictures are too dark, it’s hard to tell.”

Heat rises up your neck as you listen to the murmurs. In all the excitement, you’d forgotten that people probably did see you two at the observatory. You hadn’t even thought to look on social media. You tried to avoid that hellscape as often as possible. Dani would have mentioned it if she saw something, Jenna too…right?

You pull your phone from your pocket when you finally make it inside the sanctuary of the hotel. No more notifications than usual, everything seems normal. You call Dani when you're in the elevator, just to have her sanity check you.

“About time you call me back!”

“I’ve been in the city for an hour tops, woman. Why is it so quiet? Are you not driving today?”

“No way! I’m not missing the Met Gala are you kidding me?”

You laugh into the phone, your eyes on the growing numbers over the elevator door.

“We’re not even live for another three hours, Dani.”

“Anyway. How’s Jenna?”

“I haven’t seen her yet. And that's not why I called. Some girls outside my hotel were talking about pictures.”

“Yeah, girls do that.”

“No, pictures of me and Jenna.”

“Oh yeah, so cute. Wait, you haven’t seen them?”

“I don't have Twitter, you know this.”

“I can hear the panic in your voice, and you should know the pictures are very dark. Don’t freak out.”

“I’m kind of freaking out.”

“You’re totally fine dude. It's like, your shadow at best. Totally fine.”

Something in her tone tells you she’s lying. “Dani, seriously.”

“I’ll send you the pictures. But you’ve really got to get over this whole fame aversion thing babe. You’re dating one of the most famous actresses of our time.”

“We’re not dating.”

“Not yeeeetttt!”

“Okay, I need to change. Send me the pictures please!”

“Can’t wait to see you two on the carpet! Byee!”

The line goes dead as the elevator doors open. You drag your suitcase down the hall and slide your keycard into your door. The room is ridiculous. It's lavish and massive, and it takes you a moment to wrap your head around it. Why would they put a photographer in such a nice room?

You toss your phone on the bed and unzip your suitcase, pulling out your clothes for the night. You hang the slacks in the bathroom to steam them when you get in the shower. You keep the water scalding hot, washing off the anxiety of the plane and the journey from the airport to the hotel. You set your mind to the task at hand for the night. This is work. It’s all it is right now—just work.

You never get the chance to open the photo Dani sent you.

—----

The Met is beautiful, as always. But even more so with all the decorations and the carpet and the lights. Vogue has you positioned near the top of the stairs where you can catch both candid moments of the attendees and posed pictures. You make small talk with the other photographers and the interviewers and catch some long glances from others. People are treating you with more curiosity than usual, but you brush it off as pre-gala nerves.

As the sun starts to set over the city, the guests begin to roll in. You find yourself swept up in your work, enjoying the atmosphere and the mix of joy and nervousness. Everyone wants to impress everyone, especially the cameras. It makes your job more entertaining, watching these beautiful people quell their nerves. Because they seem more human, just people.

An hour goes by, and you still haven’t seen Jenna. You try your best not to look for her, and focus on your camera. You snag a stray shot of the things left behind on the carpet, a pearl here, a feather there. It’s just as interesting as the outfits that come strolling through. A long line of celebrities clad in clothing that costs more than your house passes you by in a haze.

And then you see her.

No one notices your jaw drop because theirs are all hanging open as well. Someone murmurs next to you, “Wow. She’s really leaning into the whole Wednesday thing, huh?”

“Uh huh,” is all you can say, unable to take your eyes off her.

You watch as she makes her way up the carpet, missing a few guests as they pass you by, but you don’t care. She’s well-versed and poses like it's what she was born to do. You think she looks happy, excited to be there, but then she sees you.

Her eyes light up, and her smile reaches so far across her face her dimple is on full display. She casually strolls up to you at the top of the stairs, ignoring the interviewers and leaning over the rail toward you.

“Well, hello, y/n,” she says, pretending to be surprised to see you there.

“You look…” your mouth closes and opens, waiting for further instructions, “you look….”

She giggles and reaches across the barrier, her hand resting on your forearm, “You don’t look half bad yourself. You clean up nice.”

“I…uh..thank you. You look incredible.”

Cameras are flashing around you, people are yelling, but you can't see them anymore. Someone comes to Jenna’s elbow, trying to guide her along. She pulls away and shakes her head, gesturing toward you.

“My PR team says I need to go inside. Take pictures of me so they leave me alone for five seconds of my life,” Jenna grumbles.

You grin and lift your camera, snapping candid photos of her before she poses. Those won’t go to Vogue; those are for you. She takes a step back and smolders you so well you think your camera may well melt between your fingers.

You wave your hand at her, “Take a step back. Let’s get the full body shot.”

“Oh,” she says, lifting her hand and turning her body to give you a better shot.

The woman behind her is trying to move her along again, and Jenna briefly shows mild irritation.

“Enough,” she says, cutting her hands out to the side, “I’ll be up in a minute.”

The woman in the suit looks like she’s chewed every nail off her fingers, drank a half liter of vodka, and it still wasn’t enough. You half feel bad for the woman. Being on Jenna’s PR team could not be an easy job.

Jenna comes back to you with a stubborn set in her jaw, “If you’re not going to the after party, where will you be?”

You shrug, trying (and failing) to manage your expression, “In the city, I guess. Text me when you’re out!”

Her arm is being taken by her now completely worn-out PR agent, and she laughs as she’s pulled backward, waving at you. You watch her take photos with Elle Fanning, listen to her joke about being the groom to her bride. It’s refreshing, to see her like this. Having fun, but still working.

When she’s finally pulled inside, you go back to work. You figure a missed guest or two…or three is excusable. The line trickles down, and the ruckus begins to fade, the real party being held inside the doors. You excuse yourself when everything is wrapped up, and make your way back to your hotel room.

In the lobby, the desk attendant calls out to you, jogging over to walk with you toward the elevators.

“We upgraded your room for the weekend. Is it to your liking?” she asks, nearly out of breath and stumbling to keep up.

You slow your pace, a confused frown furrowing your brow, “Uh, yeah. It’s great. Why?”

“Oh, management wanted to make sure you liked the room.”

“No, why did you upgrade me?”

She frowns at you, clearly as confused as you were, “Management has a celebrity policy. The lower floors have less security.”

“I’m not a celebrity?” You ask, more than tell her.

She shrugs, “Someone thinks you are.” And just like that, she’s off, scurrying back to her desk to welcome another guest.

You scratch your head as you wait for the elevator, unsure of what or who rather, just happened. You brush it off and don’t think twice about it. Who are you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

You don’t stay in your room long. Just enough to lock up your camera and change into jeans and a T-shirt. As soon as you’re able, you’re back on the street, blending in with the tourists and the bustling nightlife of New York City. You stop in a small bar and have a few drinks, content to have some time alone. After a bit, you pay your tab and wander off again until a smell overwhelms you. You feel like a cartoon character following a scent wisp, crossing the street, and turning a corner.

A little pizza shop is tucked away there, with a mass of people spilling out of its doors. Normally, crowds are a no-go for you. Unless there's food. Or Jenna. But mostly food. You maneuver your way through the crowd and stand in line, your buzz and the city making you feel like you’re in a dream.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out, your heart jolting at Jenna’s name on your screen.

“Done with the afterparty already?”

A heavy sigh comes from the other end of the phone, “Just got back to my room.”

“Well, how was it?”

She laughs, “Technically, I’m not allowed to tell you. Press and all.”

“Okay, okay, that's fair.”

A group of loud teenagers pushes behind you, laughing and yelling, pizza slices dripping grease on their hands.

“Where are you?” Jenna asks around a yawn.

“A pizza shop, somewhere.”

She whines, “Lucky! I wish I could be out there.”

“I mean, you sort of can be?”

You can hear her shuffling around on the other end before she grunts, apparently flopping onto her bed. “I can’t, though, not really. It’s the sad price to pay.”

You hum, “Didn’t think about that. I’m sorry.”

She hums but stays quiet.

“Hey, I can bring you some pizza, if you want?”

“Wait, actually yes! Oh my god, you’re a saint, I’ll owe you.”

And that's how you find yourself, with a pizza box greasing over your palm, knocking at Jenna’s door at 1 AM.

When she answers, you feel even less prepared than you had been for her Gala look. At some point, you’ll get your feet under you, and just the sight of her won’t make you breathless. Right? Right?

Odds are not in your favor.

Her face is bare, the make-up from earlier washed away. Her hair is in a messy bun on the top of her head, and she's in an oversized shirt that's so big you can't see her shorts. You stand like an idiot in her doorway, pizza in one hand, a bottle of champagne in the other.

“Well?” She says, coy smile on her lips, “Are you going to come in?”

“I..uh..yeah, of course.” You’re not winning any points in the smooth factor, but for some reason, she still smiles at you like you’re suave.

As soon as the door closes, she snatches the pizza box out of your hand and leaps onto the bed, sitting cross-legged and gesturing you over. You kick off your shoes and sit at the end, trying with all your might not to be awkward.

Jenna slaps your shoulder, “Take the cork out of that and get comfortable. Let's watch a movie.”

You nod dumbly and stand to uncork the champagne. She crawls up the bed to rest her back against the headboard. You climb in beside her.

“What are we watching?” You ask, taking a sip from the bottle.

“Beetlejuice,” she says without hesitation.

She extends her hand for the bottle, and you pass it over, taking your own slice of pizza from the box. The movie begins, and your shoulder to shoulder, your entire body feeling like it's vibrating. Eventually, the bottle is abandoned on the nightstand, and the pizza box is kicked onto the floor. Jenna rests her head on your shoulder and her hand on your leg, and you can no longer focus on the tv. You want to kiss her so badly, it’s become the sole driving force in your mind.

“Jenna?” You say, turning your head to look down at her.

Her body is relaxed, her breathing even. She’s fallen asleep, wrapped around you. A piece of you is disappointed, but another part is relieved. She needs to rest. You can see it in the set of her shoulders and the bags under her eyes. You gently slide her down the bed, turn off the tv as you go, and slip out of her room.

—----

You’re back at her door the next morning at 7 AM. A small bag rests on your shoulders, and an excited smile overtakes your face.

She answers the door with messy hair and sleepy eyes. Her voice is scratchy when she asks, “Y/N? What’re you doing?”

“I have a surprise for you,” you say, pulling the bag off your back. You hand it to her and brush past her into her room to sit on an armchair.

She opens the bag and looks over at you, blinking slowly, “You brought me a hoody?”

You nod excitedly, “And jeans. You might need a belt for them, though. Also, did you bring shoes to walk in?”

She chuckles, “I have my own jeans, and yeah. I have my Addidas.”

“Great! Put them on. We’re gonna be late.”

“For what?” She says, scratching her cheek.

“It’s a surprise.”

—-

“My PR team is going to murder you,” Jenna says, the hood of your sweater pulled low over her face. Her sunglasses hide most of her, which is in your favor.

“I’m pretty sure they already hate me. But it’ll be okay. We just need to get there.”

The car pulls into the Pier parking lot, and your leg won't stop shaking. Jenna pats your knee reassuringly.

“I have no idea what you’re doing, but don’t be nervous,” she says, her head on your shoulder again.

The car parks in front of a boat, its Captain standing at the bottom of the deck shooing away pigeons and tourists. You drag Jenna out of the car and wave at him.

“He owes me a favor. We worked together in the Antarctic,” you tell her when she gives you a quizzical look.

“Y/N!” The Captain yells out, embracing you when you approach.

“Oscar,” you say as you hug him, trying not to grunt from his heavy hand patting your back.

“And who’s this?” Oscar says, releasing you and peering around your shoulder.

“Oscar, this is Jenna. She’s the cargo I was telling you about.”

“Cargo?” Jenna whispers, almost to herself.

“Just go with it,” you say, your hand on her lower back.

Oscar ushers you onto the boat, pulling up the plank behind you, “Good conditions today, ladies! We’ve got a fair shot!”

You smile and nod your head at him, leading Jenna onto the front deck. She shivers and wraps her arms around your waist, making your stomach flip.

“You’re going to explain all of this later, right?” She says, looking up at you.

You nod, “I just figured we’ve been in your world so far. Let me show you mine.”

She tilts her head but nods, slowly. The boat leaves the harbor and heads out for the open Atlantic sea, the water spraying you in salty mist, the cool wind whipping your hair. You pull Jenna’s hood off and grin.

“You won’t need this anymore,” you tell her, absently brushing her hair behind her ear.

She smiles up at you and pushes her sunglasses into her hair, her eyes wide and soft. She reaches up on her toes, wraps her arms around the back of your neck. Your eyes begin to shut as the distance between you closes.

“Yo! Sighting on the port side!!” Oscar’s bellowing voice makes you jump apart.

Jenna laughs and runs to the port side, the railing hitting her ribs. You smile and shake your head, following close behind her.

“What are we sighting?” She asks, her voice excited.

“Just wait. You’ll see.” You tell her, your hands on the railing.

A few minutes pass, and all that there is to see is rolling ocean and seagulls. Then, suddenly, a whale breaches the surface. It sprays water from its blowhole, it’s back coming into view.

Jenna gasps, “Holy shit!”

Your smile is miles wide now, and you wrap your arm around her shoulders. Half to make contact with her, and half to make sure she doesn’t jump into the ocean in her excitement. You’ve seen people do stranger things.

An entire pod of whales surfaces, sending Jenna into unbridled joy. She laughs, jumps, squeals at the babies. The whole scene is as perfect as you’d imagined it. Her hair is wild in the ocean wind, her skin dotted with ocean mist. You mentally pat yourself on the back for this and decide you need to take her into your world more often. She clearly loves it.

On the way back into port, Jenna is wrapped around you as you lean back on the railing, enjoying the view of the approaching city. She turns her head to look up at you and smiles.

“Thank you. For this.”

“Of course. Nature is kind of my thi-”

The rest of your words are stolen by her lips on yours. The kiss is soft, exploring, and sweet. Her hands on the back of your neck pull you down to her, wrapping you up in her. Tiny fireworks explode in your chest, and your head feels like it's spinning.

She pulls back, smiles at you, and kisses you again just as the boat pulls into port.

—--

You hate to leave the city before Jenna does, but she has more work to do, and you have a cat you need to get home to. Before you get on the plane, a text from Dani comes in.

Dani

HO-LY SHIT

Dani

You fucking legend!

Y/N

I’ve missed some vital information in this conversation here

Instead of explaining herself, she sends you a link. It opens to a page with a headline that reads:

JENNA ORTEGA AND MYSTERY PHOTOGRAPHER

Ortega makes waves at the Met Gala in her Thom Brown custom, and did we spot a beau? Read more for their heart eyes at the Gala and the steamy boat ride photographs!

Well, shit.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega

1K notes · View notes

venus-haze · 1 year

Text

My Destruction Is an Hour Late (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: As a nameless, faceless administrative assistant, you never expected any members of The Seven to give you the time of day. In your year or so of working at Vought, Homelander’s taken a particular liking to you, always seeking you out to help him with whatever tasks or projects he can conjure up to take up as much of your time as possible. When you’re not available to help him after hours since you have a date planned, his interest in you proves to be far more than professional.

Note: Reader is a woman but no other descriptors are used. First time writing for Homelander so I hope it’s at least okay! Y/N naming convention isn’t used in this, Homelander only refers to you by pet names. This takes place between seasons 1 and 2. On the shorter side of what I usually write, but a lot happens in this. Title comes from one of my favorite lines from Buddy’s Rendezvous by Father John Misty. Do not interact if you are under 18 or if you post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Homelander is a warning. Suspected murder, age gap (Homelander is in his 40s while the reader is 20s/30s), emotional manipulation, some dubcon which involves explicit depictions of food play and mommy kink. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Being part of the corporate machine wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of when you were a little girl, but working for Vought softened the blow. You could see the look in people’s eyes when you told them who your employer was, one of the first things strangers learned about you. Interest and envy punctuated every question, but what everyone wanted to know was ‘Have you ever met any of The Seven?’

You had, and you weren’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing that in your drive to keep the best paying job you’d ever had in an overpriced city like New York, you earned a reputation of reliability, which meant extra assignments but the overtime pay to go with it. One supe in particular was the source of most of your after hours work. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased about the singular occasion when you were unavailable.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you said. “I can’t tonight. I blocked off my time this evening on my calendar.”

“Yes, I saw that, but what could you possibly be doing that you can’t help me with this? You’re my go-to! I thought you were reliable, but this is—“

“I have a date,” you said softly.

His jaw clenched, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of red in his eyes for a brief moment as he glared at you. He couldn’t have been that angry that you wouldn’t stay late to help him, not when there were dozens of other low-level Vought employees around. You couldn’t accept jealousy as a possible motivation, perhaps possessiveness, you’d heard of his odd relationship with Madelyn Stilwell, who was killed a little over a month after Vought hired you.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you repeated weakly. “I can help tomorrow.”

He scoffed, clearly expecting you to offer to cancel your date to help him instead. Vought was one of the highest paying employers in the city, and you’d heard from your acquaintances in the HR department that the average job posting got well over 2,000 applicants on the low end. It wasn't uncommon for employees to work late nights here and there, but it seemed like so much of your time was consumed by Homelander. You’d foolishly volunteered to help him with something not long after you’d been hired, and as he said, you’d become his go-to. He intimidated you, but at times you found he could be almost sweet when it was just the two of you.

In all honesty, your social life had suffered immensely since you began working at Vought, and some of your friends had stopped the pretense of asking if you were free when they were planning to hang out, and you’d only become aware of the plans when you saw the Instagram stories after the fact. Restaurants, concerts, weekend trips—that used to be you. In a fit of loneliness and desperation one of the few nights you didn’t arrive back at your apartment and practically collapse asleep, you’d opened all of the dating apps you hadn’t touched in months, and quickly arranged a dinner date at your place with a nice enough guy named Jesse.

You sunk into your desk chair, an expensive ergonomic one he specifically had Ashley order for you because you’d complained of back pain once. Returning to your assignment at hand, you tried to ignore the eyes on you for declining Homelander’s request. At least five o’clock came sooner rather than later, and you rushed to gather your things, wanting to get out of the building as quickly as possible to avoid any further confrontations.

It was odd leaving Vought Tower when it was still light out. You’d almost gotten used to leaving for work and coming home in the dark. The train back to your apartment was unusually crowded, a consequence of actually leaving at rush hour. Jesse would be over at seven, leaving you just an hour and a half when you got back home to cook and get ready. You’d decided on lasagna, a dish easy to make but equally easy to impress with.

Multitasking dinner and fixing up your hair and makeup probably wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had, but before working at Vought, you loved to entertain. It’d been so long, though, you’d forgotten how involved it was. Despite nearly spilling pasta sauce on your simple yet classic black dress, you were a bit relieved when Jesse seemed to be running a few minutes late–until a few minutes turned into far more.

7:14 ‘If you need directions, let me know!’

7:36 ‘Hey, is everything okay?’

7:53 ‘Are you seriously ghosting me?’

At a few minutes past eight, you angrily typed a simple ‘Fuck you’ when a knock at the door startled you, and you nearly pressed send when you flinched. You had half a mind not to answer. Who the hell did he think he was showing up an hour late? Another impatient, more forceful knock echoed through your apartment and you rose to your feet, throwing your phone aside on the couch and storming over to the front door.

Opening it, you expected to see your less than punctual date in your doorway. Instead, the man at your door looked extremely out of place in your modest apartment building.

“Homelander?”

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Is that lasagna I smell? Yummy.”

“I—what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but—“

A drop of blood rolled from one of his gloved hands and onto the floor in the hallway. Your mind immediately raced to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d just apprehended some violent criminal. Although, in that case, he’d return to the tower right away and report the incident for the crime analytics team.

“I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by,” he said casually, as if he regularly came over to your place unannounced.

You nodded, moving out of the way for him to enter. “Of course, um, is everything okay?”

Vought kept all employee information in a database, and you were sure he had access to it and found your address that way. Still, it didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important on the Vought totem pole, and you didn’t feel like you and Homelander were all that close. Though, it seemed he knew far more about you than you could have anticipated.

The more you considered it, though, the timing, the convenience of his arrival in the absence of your date, not to mention the literal blood on his hands—you looked at him, wide-eyed at the man who just stepped foot in your home, not wanting to believe the worst but knowing it’d be dishonest otherwise.

Homelander grinned, his pearly white canines glistening like fangs beneath the soft lighting you’d carefully set up in your living room. “Now, why are you looking at me like I’m the big bad wolf?”

Your lip trembled. “It’s nothing.”

“Perfect! Then let’s eat,” he announced jovially. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Sure, make yourself at home,” you said.

You went into the kitchen to retrieve the lasagna from the oven, which you’d kept at a low temperature to keep the dish warm but not overcook. Grabbing fresh basil from the fridge, you garnished the pasta with a few leaves. Suddenly lasagna seemed like a stupid choice. Jesse probably would have appreciated it, but Homelander was used to food cooked by Vought’s staff of professional chefs. It was too simple, even if you had made the sauce yourself.

He glanced around at the decor in your apartment while you busied yourself in the kitchen. A framed print of Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart on your wall, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice among the books stacked on your coffee table, assorted candles glowing softly in your dim apartment, “You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

You could feel your face heat up at his correct observation, nodding bashfully as you set the tray of lasagna on the table. It didn’t help that in your excitement for the evening, you’d made a ‘first date playlist’ consisting of Elvis, Sinatra, Simone, and some other older artists that played softly from the speaker you had set on the counter. It wasn’t like you had expected Jesse to be the one, but you wanted to indulge yourself.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I am too, really,” he said, his voice oddly assuring, as if he weren’t saying it just to humor you. “Not many of us hopeless romantics around anymore.”

He had taken off his gloves since you’d gone into the kitchen, laying them neatly next to his plate. You ignored the small droplets of blood that had pooled on the table, focusing on making sure the serving of lasagna didn’t collapse into an unsightly mess on his plate. At least luck was on your side in that respect, as you nearly sighed in relief at the nice presentation. You were a bit less careful with your own serving before sitting down across from him.

Having Homelander eat your food felt more nerve-wracking than if Gordon Ramsay were over, it wasn’t like the latter could laser your kitchen table in half if he thought it was horrible.

“Goddamn, this is delicious. What’s that I taste in here?” He sounded genuine, not patronizing as you almost expected. Maybe he just didn’t eat lasagna very often.

“I seasoned the ricotta,” you said.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I didn’t know you cook like this.”

“I love to cook, I just haven’t had much time recently.”

“Interesting what you learn about people outside of work.” He grimaced a bit when he took a sip of wine. That was on you and your tendency to buy cheap alcohol. You could stomach the subpar taste for the sake of the buzz, but as far as you knew, Homelander couldn’t get drunk, so there wasn’t even that benefit.

“I can get you something else to drink. I’m so sorry,” you said. “I have water, iced tea, I think some soda, too.”

He looked at your fridge and huffed, displeased. “You have half a bottle of flat Coke. I’ll take the tea.”

You could’ve given A-Train a run for his money with how fast you raced into the kitchen to pour Homelander a glass of iced tea and bring it back to him.

“Did you find someone to help you with that thing you mentioned earlier?” you asked as you handed him the drink.

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No, like you said, it can wait until tomorrow.”

You hummed in response, biting back a comment about how it didn’t seem like it just a few hours ago. Instead, you sat back down and focused on finishing the lasagna on your plate. Suddenly it seemed like far too much, but you powered through the rest of the meal you’d worked so hard to make as Homelander led most of the conversation, while you gave short responses, hoping he’d get the hint at how uncomfortable you were. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.

“So, what’s for dessert?” he asked when you collected the dirty plates from the table.

“Ice cream,” you answered. “I’ll get yours first.”

“Nonsense, we can share,” he said.

You merely nodded, disappearing into the kitchen to pull the small carton of vanilla ice cream from your freezer. The bowls in your cupboard seemed too pedestrian to serve Homelander in, until you remembered the plastic, diner-style ice cream cups you’d bought not long after you moved into your apartment. Carefully scooping the dessert into the cup, you were pleased with how professional it looked.

Ice cream and spoon in hand, you set both in front of Homelander, who looked from the treat to you. “Ooh, vanilla, such an under-appreciated flavor, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you answered, unwilling to admit you’d only bought it because it was on sale, and you had left over chocolate syrup from when you were on your brief home cafe kick.

You yelped when he pulled you onto his lap, bracing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He seemed pleased at your reaction, smiling as he took a spoonful of ice cream and held it in front of your mouth.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said.

You leaned in, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed the dessert to you. His smile widened when you swallowed.

“Okay, my turn,” he said cheerfully, ignoring the way your hand shook as you scooped up a generous amount of ice cream and put the spoon in his mouth.

The moan he let out as he sucked the ice cream off of the spoon was nothing short of sinful, and you felt ashamed that it stirred something in you. Sure, you found Homelander attractive and had a brief crush on him before coming to terms with the fact that it’d never happen, but this was just bizarre.

The odd ritual continued for another few agonizing minutes, and it was almost like he was going out of his way to see how much you would put up with before you’d protest or challenge him. You told yourself it was because you wanted to keep your job, and you were definitely afraid of him, but a small part of you that you tried to push deep into the recesses of your mind was starting to enjoy it.

“You know, I’m having a great time. We should do this more often,” he said, finally setting aside the half-empty cup.

You gulped. “Yeah, if you want to.”

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that, I just–I was expecting someone else tonight.”

“Right. Jesse,” he said, spitting the name like venom.

You’d never told Homelander your date’s name in the brief conversation you’d had with him about it back at the tower. There was no way he couldn’t hear your heart racing. If you didn’t calm down, you were sure your dinner was going to make an unwelcome reappearance.

“So, what was the plan after the romantic candle lit dinner? Just a kiss goodnight, or were you going to let him fuck you?” he asked, his voice flat as he pinned you in place with nothing more than a cold stare.

You balked at his wording. Not that you hadn’t heard him curse before, it was a shock in and of itself the first time he dropped the f-bomb in front of you. He’d never been so directly crass toward you, though. “I-I don’t—“

“You don’t put out on the first date?” he finished. “Really make ‘em work for it, huh?”

“I just don’t want to be that intimate with someone I don’t know well,” you answered, shifting uncomfortably in his lap.

“Good thing you know me like the back of your hand, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed absentmindedly.

His fingers brushed one of the slinky spaghetti straps of your black dress, the caress reminding you of how easily he could break you if he wanted to. You'd seen him lift cars with his bare hands and not even break a sweat. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then to the crook of your neck, then your cheek, until finally he captured your lips in a kiss that left you dizzy. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until he forced your mouth open with his tongue.

Tangling your fingers in his hair in an attempt to steady yourself only encouraged him.

He pulled you closer so you were fully straddling him, and you knew despite the force with which he held your hips in place, he was holding back. You nearly choked on your own spit, or perhaps it was a mix of yours and his at this point. He was already pushing it with how much force you could handle, and he was holding back.

When he finally pulled away, you looked at him, glassy-eyed and lips surely in the process of bruising. You could feel his hardening cock through his suit as it pressed against your thighs. He stared at you, intense and uncomfortable for a few moments before his gaze wandered right next to your ass. He picked up the cup of melted ice cream with one hand, and tore open the front of your dress with the other, as if it were nothing more than tissue paper.

“You dress like such a little prude at work, but this–fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Before you could respond, he poured some of the melted ice cream over your chest, and you gasped at the sensation of the cool liquid making contact with your skin. He watched, mesmerized as it rolled down your breasts, a droplet of vanilla hanging from one of your exposed nipples. He dipped his head, licking it gently before taking your breast in his mouth.

You whimpered as his teeth harshly grazed your nipple, needy and insatiable as he lapped up the sticky ice cream that’d begun to dry on your chest.

“Fuck, mommy,” he whined against your skin, throwing you for one hell of a loop.

He poured the rest of the vanilla ice cream on your chest, some of it landing on your already ruined dress. Throwing the cup aside without a second thought, he brought his attention to your other breast which he’d simply been groping until then. You nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand, threading your fingers through his hair. Oh god, he wanted you to pull him closer.

Hesitantly, you pushed his face against your breast, his moan practically vibrating through you. You kept your hand in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he relentlessly sucked and licked your breasts. The stimulation was almost too intense to be pleasurable, but the wetness between your legs said otherwise. You couldn’t hide that from a man like Homelander, your gut twisting at the realization he could probably smell your arousal.

He was fully hard now, and with how rough he was getting, you could tell he was close. Biting your sensitive lip, you slipped your hand between your bodies, rubbing his hard on through his suit.

“Oh fuck, mommy, don’t stop,” he moaned.

It felt almost wrong, seeing the most powerful superhero in the world so vulnerable, but you knew better. Despite the facade of submissiveness, he was in control.

“Are-are you close, baby?” you asked, hoping if you played the part, the less time you’d be subject to his troubling fetish.

“Yes,” he whined. “God, I’m–”

He squeezed your breast when he came, and if you weren’t sure it’d be bruised in the morning before, that had made you certain. You gasped in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks which he wiped away in his post-orgasm haze.

“You did so good. You did so fucking good, just like I knew you would,” he praised.

He picked you up like you were nothing, and in a way, you were nothing. Your body was already pushed to limits you’d never experienced before, and the night was far from over, as you’d find three hours and a broken box spring later. You weren’t sure at what point you’d fallen asleep–or maybe passed out was more like it–but when you awoke the next morning well past nine o’clock, your body was almost too sore to move as quickly as you needed it to.

“Good morning, babe,” Homelander greeted as you shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as if he owned the place.

“Homelander, I’m going to be late—“

“No you’re not. I already called in for you, let ‘em know you’re taking a sick day. We can keep the little white lie between us,” he said, with a mischievous smile and a wink.

“Oh,” was all you managed as you sat at the table, a wrapped breakfast sandwich and cup of coffee from the bagel shop you stopped in every morning was sitting neatly at your place. “You picked up breakfast?”

“It’s the least I can do after you made dinner last night. By the way, the people over there wanted me to tell you congrats when I let them know the good news.”

“Good news?”

“Your promotion,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ll be reporting directly to me from now on, take out all of the bureaucratic bullshit between us.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky and uncertain.

He pursed his lips. “I’d expect a little more fucking enthusiasm, but we can work on that.”

“You’re right, I’m just still a little groggy is all,” you said, forcing a smile on your tired face. “Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”

“There we go,” he said, his quick mood shift almost startling you as he leaned down to give you a kiss. “You know I’m always looking out for you, right, babe?”

You glanced at the dried blood on the other side of the table, where he’d been sitting the previous night. Before you could think too much about it, you widened the fake smile you were giving him. “Of course I do.”

#homelander x reader #the boys #homelander #the boys x reader #homelander imagine

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httpwintersoldier · 10 months

Text

『 do it for me, doll. pt.3 || bucky barnes x reader 』

pairing: pornstar!Bucky x f!reader words: medium summary: when life gets hard after the Avenger's disbandment Bucky has to find a new occupation, and you find it too.

『 part 1 』『 part 2 』

Getting on the plane to New York had your legs jittery and butterflies in your stomach. You couldn't stop smiling, you felt like a teenage girl giggling about your crush. Except it was just about the opposite.

Your coworkers found it odd, that you were so happy and couldn't wait for a work related trip, but they just guessed you enjoyed travelling. Little did they know, company awaited you on the other side.

You'd only meet Bucky on your third day in New York, since you were busy the other two days, but you might as well have met him outside of the airport, because your mind was clouded with thoughts of him and what you'd do when you first saw each other. Your body felt like it was burning in every place you wanted him to touch you.

You hurried to call a cab, and once you were in the hotel you didn't bother to unpack or get comfortable, you just grabbed your phone to text Bucky (whom had obviously given you his number since scheduling a meetup via livestream chat was not ideal or practical).

You: I'm in NYC 😎

Bucky: you sure we can't see each other like... now? I want you so bad

(Picture attached)

The picture was of him, lying on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, that were riding dangerously low on his waist.

You bit your lip, and for a second considered ditching your professional responsibilities for a good great fuck. But eventually decided against it.

You: Sorry Sergeant, duty calls, I'll see you the day after tomorrow

Bucky: you know I'll punish you for making me wait, right?

You: I do... and I can't wait.

You had no idea where your recent surge of confidence had come from (you suspected it was from all of Bucky's compliments and encouragement), but this new you was capable of saying just about anything that went through your mind.

To say you were unproductive and absolutely useless during your meetings was the understatement of the century. You were so distracted, excited and giddy by the thought of Bucky that you ended up contributing nothing to the work you were actually supposed to do. Your coworkers, however (bless them) just pinned it in nervousness for being in front of the higher-ups and covered for you.

When the day came you felt all sorts of emotions and skipped all of the coffees you'd usually have throughout the day as the added caffeine would only make it worse. A lot worse.

The workday itself was light, you only worked during the morning since your employers had meetings in the afternoon.

Come 1PM, you ate hurriedly and started to get ready, as if 6 hours wasn't enough time. You showered, did your hair and makeup (nice and heavy on the mascara so he'd have enough to mess up), lathered yourself in the nicest vanilla body lotion you had ever smelled, and got dressed.

You went all out for the meetup, even going as far as buying new lingerie for the occasion, but the man deserved it, he was cooking you dinner and serving all types of meat after all.

The set you purchased was baby pink. It was a hard cup lacy bra, that pushed up your tits in a beautiful way, with a small ribbon in between the cups. The panties were matching the top, and the back had a cut-out heart giving a perfect view of your ass. The set wouldn't be complete without the matching garter belt that connected to a sheer, white pair of tights.

You looked like a dream.

You put on a fancy outfit and gave yourself one last look in the mirror, touching up your makeup and hair, before texting Bucky.

You: I'm ready, will you make me wait till the time comes as a punishment?

Bucky: making you wait to come over would only be a punishment to me. Come one over.

Bucky shared his location.

You giggled and called an Uber to his location, sending a picture as soon as you got in the car to let him know you were on your way.

Bucky was just as giddy and nervous as you were, and he didn't know how long he'd be able to keep his hands off of you. Despite what might've been a popular belief, he didn't fuck a lot, he just happened to undress on camera.

About 15 minutes went by and Bucky was just adding the finishing touches to the dinner table when he heard your footsteps approach the door.

Ding dong.

You both took a deep breath, and the door opened.

"Y/N! Hi!"

Mesmerizing. That was the only way to describe Bucky Barnes. He smiled at you as if you weren't both thinking of the sinful things you were to do to each other.

"Nice to finally see you in person!" You said, greeting him with a hug.

He guided you inside his house - it was very minimalist, nothing but the absolutely necessary inside.

"I'm not big on decorations." Bucky said with a chuckle, as he saw you look around "But I do have beautiful chains hanging on my bedroom walls." He whispered in your ear, as an arm sneaked around your figure.

You shivered, looking over your shoulder at the man that was standing dangerously close to you. Your lips missed each other by mere milimeters, and the sexual tension was clearly palpable.

Bucky brushed his lips over yours for a split second, before completely pulling away and taking you to the kitchen. What a tease.

Bucky was a true gentleman, pulled directly from those 1940's stereotypes. He pulled out the chair for you and served your food and the champagne he had prepared.

"I hope you like it. If you don't there's a great chinese place nearby." He half-joked, since he was actually a little scared you wouldn't like the meal.

But his worries washed away when he saw your face as you took the first bite of the meal.

"Wow! This is amazing!" You complimented.

You saw his cheeks go a little red at the compliment and he smiled widely.

"Yeah? Thank you."

You'd think all of the compliments he got during streams would've made him more used to hearing them, but he still got very shy.

"Hopefully it won't be the best thing of the night..." You said suggestively, sending a wink his way.

Bucky's face instantly changed, into a look of lust and desire.

"Oh princess, this is nothing compared to what I have prepared." He winked at you, bringing the champagne glass to his lips.

The conversation flowed naturally during the dinner, which was a relief. Both of you had a secret worry in the back of your minds that you'd have no chemistry aside from the sexual attraction, but as time passed the worry faded completely.

When dinner was done, Bucky took a hold of your hand and guided you to his living room, bringing the champagne along with you. You sat down on the couch.

"You know Bucky, I'm surprised..."

Bucky rose an eyebrow at you.

"Hm? Surprised?"

"Yes," you paused, trailing your hand up his thigh "after the stunt you pulled when I came in the door I didn't think you'd last this long without doing... something."

Bucky's bionic arm gripped your wrist, just as your hand was getting to his crotch.

"Oh princess you have no idea how much I've been holding back."

The Soldier pulled you a little closer as he said that.

"Why hold back?" You whispered, as he was just so close.

"Because if I don't I won't be able to hold, back." Bucky responded, one of his hands making it's way to your cheek.

"Then don't hold back."

Those words were almost like a command for Bucky. He borught your face closer to his and kissed you, Your lips fit perfectly together, and all you both could think was "finally".

There was need and desperation in the kiss, and it was as if you were afraid to let go, as if you'd falter if you pulled away.

Bucky's vibranium arm wrapped around your figure, and brought you to his lap. His hips rolled up agains yours, as his tongue entered your mouth once more and his hands gripped your ass - you felt pleasantly overwhelmed, your mind had no idea what to focus on.

You could feel his boner against your core, and moaned at the feeling.

Bucky's hands settled on your ass and he stood up, taking you to what you assumed was his bedroom. He then laid you on the bed, standing up for a second to take of his shirt and pants.

As he worked on his clothes, you worked on yours. You removed your top and undid your zipper, so Bucky could pull down your pants and dispose of them. After he did so, he stood back, admiring your body in the pretty lingerie.

He smirked, chuckled and brushed back his semi-long hair, before climbing on top of you and pampering your chest and neck with sloppy kisses.

"You'll be the fucking death of me, doll." Bucky told you, snapping the waistband of your panties against the skin of your hip.

Your hand tangled on his hair as he marked your skin, while his hand sneaked inside your pretty underwear to find your clit.

"Oh Bucky- fuck."

The man kissed your neck, then your jaw and then your cheek.

"You sound even more beautiful in person." He said, before catching your lips in a quick kiss.

Bucky wanted to grab that pretty bra of yours and rip it out, but it was far too pretty, so his hand reached around your back and unclasped it, then peeling it off your body.

"Shit..." He groaned under his breath.

The man's lips attached to one of your nipples, as the other hand sneakily pushed your panties to the side, so he could enter you.

"This wet? Just for me? Wow I must be really good." Bucky joked, biting your breast and then kissing down your stomach.

"May... Maybe." You said, unable to sneak in a snarky reply when his tongue met your clit.

Bucky was holding your waist down with his free hand, as you couldn't help but writhe under his touch.

"Shit if you keep that up I'm not gonna last long." You said, between moans and whines.

"Then don't last long. Cum on my tongue doll, I wanna see how pretty you look up close."

Bucky curled his fingers inside of you and uncurled, picking up the pace he fingered you it. Soon after you were cumming with a loud cry of incoherent words that were meant to be "fuck Bucky, you're so good".

When your breath was steady, he came up to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. Hot.

In a sudden act of bravery, you wrapped your legs around his waist and flipped you over, then kneeling in between his legs.

"What are we doing now doll?" He asked, with a look of amusement on his face.

You hooked your finger on the waistband of his tight boxers and pulled them down, letting his erection spring free. His cock did look bigger in person.

"Repaying the favour."

Before he could reply, you licked a strip along his shaft, before sucking his tip. You bobbed your head up and down his shaft, slowly taking more and more of him.

"Oh... fuck." He groaned and made a makeshift ponytail out of your hair, so he could watch the way his cock disappeared in your mouth.

Your hand added to the movement, and when you looked up, your teary eyes meeting his, he nearly came in your mouth.

"That's it." Bucky said, before tugging on your hair and pulling your mouth away from his cock.

Before you could register what was happening, Bucky had you on the bed with your ass up and face in the matress. He took your wrists and held them together behind your back.

Soon after, his tip found your entrance and he slipped in slowly, taking in the moment he finally got to fill you.

"Oh fuck, you feel so good doll." His compliment almost went unheard, as you were too focused on how good it felt to have him fuck you.

His hand spanked your ass and then grabbed it, loving the way it bounced when he fucked you.

As Bucky picked up the pace, your moans became more frequent and louder, making it insanely hard for him not to cum.

"Fuck it." He said, and paused, before flipping you around and entering you again "I wanna see your pretty little face when you cum on my cock, you're going to look so beautiful, all fucked out for me."

His hand wrapped around your throat as he said those words, and you swore your vision went blurry with pleasure.

"You f-feel so good Bucky- shit! Fuck!" You screamed, as he seemed to go deeper and deeper with each thrust.

It wasn't long before pleasure-filled tears streamed down your face, and your hands gripped the sheets. Your climax hit you harder than any before, and you cried out the man's name.

Bucky didn't even get time to ride out your orgasm, he simpy pulled out and came on you. All over your stomach and tits.

The man fell beside you on the bed, as you both tried to regain your breaths. After a couple seconds, you looked at each other, instantly feeling shy as if you hadn't fucked the shit out of each other.

You noticed the way his eyes drifted to your neck, and you softly ran your fingers across it.

"I'm going to have to wear a scarf tomorrow, aren't I?"

Bucky smiled and laughed.

"That would probably be best, yes." He joked, meeting your eyes.

Bucky wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close to his side, not caring if his cum stuck between your bodies, and lifted your chin up to kiss you.

"Join me. Let's film this, at least once. Please?"

"I'll think about it."

[TAGLIST]

@strndedonmars ; @geeky-politics-46 ; @high-functioning-lokipath ; @erinallene ; @yvessaintmuerte ; @kandis-mom ; @cjand10 ; @sadboiabby ; @sebastians-love ; @princezzjasmine ; @witchywonderlandchaos ; @buckysfirstbitch ; @itjustkindahappenedreally ; @strndedonmars ; @florencediet ; @mdrovert ; @barnescamboy ; @winters1917 ; @yvessaintmuerte ; @pattiemac1 ;

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a-d-nox · 5 months

Text

wyrd web: what to gift a person based these three numbers

this is just a theory of mine because these bubbles of the matrix should represent earthly desires. this is not to say that you can't enjoy things not listed in your category / under your energetic number. this is simply what i believe people with these numbers would enjoy receiving as a gift.

1 - the magician

flowers / garden seeds, gear for their passion project(s), business/self-help books, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, art supplies, things that are homemade/artisanal, careof for brain support, things for their computer or car, a diary or journal (moleskine), sunglasses or blue-light glasses, joke books (for the dads with 1 placements here), paid classes, rosetta stone subscription, genetic tests (ancestry.com or 23&me), manicure/pedicure voucher, merchandise from their favorite singer / group / tv show / movie, mittens / fingerless gloves, house plant, sewing/knitting/crocheting supplies, stationary, or tickets to a concert

2 - the high priestess

things that support their spiritual practices, things that support feminine health (hum women's probiotics bundle, honey pot oral vaginal care probiotic, etc), bake goods / baking gear, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads pt 2), bar in a jar (for those of drinking age) or really any beverage tester kit, bath/spa kit, beach vacation, boat, cruise, careof for brain support, truly nice melons boob butter, candles (it doesn't have to be yankee candle either - bent candles, spiced votive candle, etc) or candle making kit, imported cheeses, clothing staples (blue jeans, black turtleneck, etc), juice cleanse or other things that support digestive health, cooking classes or meal kits (hellofresh, homechef, etc), a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, or outdoor cameras or other home security tools

3 - the empress

pillows, stuffed animals, rose quartz, personal celebrity cameo, clothing, tickets for an art museum tour, ballet tickets or classes, art supplies, makeup pallets and/or brushes, flowers, jewelry, candy/sweets, money, bells / wind chimes, clothing, designer pieces, cosmetics, dolls, a trip to a fancy restaurant, fruit basket / dried fruits, gardening supplies, jewelry, concert/orchestra tickets, poetry book, tickets to a play, a purse, lingerie (if y'all are close like that), trip to a vineyard (for those of drinking age), couples' dancing classes, or a wallet

4 - the emperor

skincare, rock climbing voucher or some other physical activity they enjoy, an adrenaline rush activity (skydiving, bungee jumping, etc), careof for brain support, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), coffee trials/samplers, sunglasses, blue light glasses, hair care products/supplies, scalp treatments/care, oral health care (thera breath, whitening products, etc), meditation app subscriptions / in person sessions for meditation, or a planner

5 - the hierophant

moss agate (don't question how random that sounds this is some intuitive stuff), artwork, an architectural tour, beauty products/supplies, historically significant objects, pastries or sweets/candies, earrings, sour dough starter kit, jewelry in general, piano/organ lessons, singing lessons, a wallet, or any classes where they can learn something fun and new to them

6 - the lovers

car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), bicycle or bicycle accessories/gear, books (the more educational the better), briefcase / work tote, bus tickets for a day trip, gym membership or soulcycle classes, crystals, a standing desk / cute office supplies (for the work girlies both those who work in office and from home), hand & foot message, manicure voucher, newspaper subscription (i am a fan of new york times, washington post, and the new yorker), language classes or rosetta stone subscription, magazines subscription, merchandise from their favorite singer / group / tv show / movie, train trip, or we're not really strangers card packs

7 - the chariot

gardening supplies, hermit crab, baked goods, bath products / beauty products, boat, cruise, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), truly nice melons boob butter, juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, glassware / blown glass, stuff they need / need for their home (security system, chest freezer, etc), hotel or bed & breakfast stay, kitchenware, lake trip, pearls, real estate / land, restaurant voucher / gift card, silver jewelry, shopping gift cards, a trip, or intention journal

8 - strength

amusement park tickets, supplies for their passion projects, ballroom dancing classes, tea sampler, games (video games or board games), movie theater gift card, personal celebrity cameo, flower garden supplies/seeds, stuff for their pet, or a belt

9 - the hermit

pet related gifts (if they have a pet that is), bookshelves (they probably need one), juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, a cat, clothing, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), stationary, emergency preparedness (ready to eat meals, fire blanket, etc), cook books, dining ware (new plates/bowls, cups / glassware, silverware, etc), food subscriptions (home chef, hello fresh, pickle of the month club, bokksu japanese snack box, etc), careof subscription, gloves, herb garden kit, a one way ticket to anywhere, or a hiking trip

10 - wheel of fortune

incense, cleansing herbs, bow and arrow, sapling, land, dried berries, budget book, gym/exercise membership, religious/spiritual/philosophical books, poker set, cloth (if they like sowing), wool (if they like weaving, crocheting, and/or knitting), wool clothing, a coat, trip to a country or place they have never been, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), etiquette classes/books (this is great for the traveler because they are often interested in learning customs before going on their trip), figs, fruit basket (like edible arrangements), honey sampler / royal jelly, horseback riding lessons, lottery tickets, merchandise from their favorite singer / group/ tv show / movie, shoes, really any game, any subscription they have not tried, things that support their spiritual practices, or book on positive mindset

11 - justice

personal celebrity cameo, tickets to a ballet or to an art gallery, air purifier, portable heating pad, spa voucher, cosmetics, lingerie (if y'all are close), closet organizational items (space saving hangers, linen bins, accessory hanger, etc), pastries and sweets, diamonds (perhaps propose to your lover), a dress, tickets to a fashion show or exhibit, flowers, a luxury chair, jewelry, concert tickets, poetry books, any quartz pieces, chocolates dipped strawberries, hair extensions, logic puzzles, a voucher for an escape room, or a kitchen/baking scale

12 - the hanged man

bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), a book on angel numbers, a book on natural medical remedies, ballet classes or tickets to see a ballet, bath bombs and other bath goodies (salt, bath table, candles, sugar scrub, bath teas, etc), beach vacation, tea or coffee sampler, butterfly farm kit with caterpillars, disposable camera or a camera they would like (polaroid, filming, etc), scientific kits (geode kit, grow your own crystals, etc), cigars (for the dads in your life), unsolved mysteries or crime kit, dance classes, smutty/romance/fantasy books, fairy garden, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, budget book, makeup palettes or other cosmetic they enjoy, concert tickets, paint, poetry books, clue the board game, a pass to an indoor pool, a book on poppet making, meditation membership or a voucher for in-person sessions, or something to support their curiosity for new spiritual insight

13 - death

hermit crab, a jumping spider, a reptile, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, operation the game, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, beginners chemistry kit, a colon cleanse, sea monkeys, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, philosophy of death books, books on magic, magic the gathering the card game, period products (portable heating pad, the diva cup, etc), poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), a frog pond, a scorpion, a snake, a burr/boo basket (these people love seasonal stuff), or marie kondo's life changing magic of tidying up

14 - temperance

a hunting trip, bow and arrows, books on religion or philosophy, book of devotions, book on dream meanings (hello, freud haha), a certification course or college class, horseback riding lessons (for the newbie or a younger sibling or your child/niece/nephew), horse drawn carriage ride (for the couples *smirk*), logic puzzles, things that support their goals, or a book of angel number meanings

15 - the devil

a fan or air conditioning unit, if you have the land for it a cow/horse/goat, kinetic tape, arnicare bruise cream (this is a joke... unless...), coal or a diamond (this is also a joke... unless...), a clock or a watch, cuticle trimmer (and other nail care things), room darkening curtains, a happy lamp, lotion/cream, hat/scarf/gloves, hair products (extensions, shampoo subscription, etc), leather fashion-ware, gardening supplies, ice maker, or a juice cleanse

16 - the tower

tiger balm or other pain relieving ointment, acrobatic/gymnastic classes, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, first-aid kit, baking kits, barbecue sauce sampler, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads), gift card for haircut, dollar shave club (for the dads pt 2), metal works (spoon handle rings, metal roses, etc), boxing lessons, boxing match tickets or monster truck tickets, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), cactus plant, beginners chemistry kit, cookbook, pocket knife or leatherman/multitool, tool kit, jenga, emergency kit, food, first aid kit, merchandise for their favorite superhero(es), electric lighter, liqour or bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), rock music (a vinyl or concert tickets), pepper plant, pipe for smoking (if they like to smoke that is - my grandfather had a collection), lego kit, or lincoln logs

17 - the star

friendship bracelets, a fan / ac unit, model airplane, flight lessons, compression stockings/socks, architectural tour, astrology reading, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), electronic devices (a new phone, amazon fire stick, solar portable charger, etc), movie on blue-ray or dvd, movie gift card, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, shadow work journal, aesthetically pleasing bluetooth retro radio, streaming service subscription, a book on health or mental health, or a book on positivity

18 - the moon

abstract art, bar in a jar (if they are of legal age), a fish, a fish tank, tickets to an aquarium, cocktail book (if they are of legal age), a fishing trip (for the dads), book of conspiracy theories, the conspiracy theory map, a crystal ball, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, a jellyfish, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, poetry book, hydroponic starter system, games that involve bluffing (clue, poker, herd mentality, etc), shoes, sleeping eye mask, silk pillow cases, new bed sheets, bonnet, socks, a computer keyboard, typewriter, a book on shadow work, a puppy, or a book on dream meanings

19 - the sun

maine coon, autobiographical books, ballroom dancing lessons, poker set, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), card games, personal celebrity cameo, circus fruit basket, chocolate gold coins, classes that encourage creativity (create it and break it sessions, pottery classes, etc), jewelry or an engagement ring (if it's been more than 2 years y'all should know what you are doing at this point), flowers, indoor herb garden, tickets to race of some sort (cars, horse, sporting events, etc), sporting equipment, ivy plant, a pottery painting voucher / gift certificate, or something for their passion project / hobby

20 - judgment

a reptile, ant farm, a guide on astral projection, operation the game, the chameleon game, clue game, unsolved case files game, grand theft auto video game, assassins creed video game, dungeons and dragons the game, yahtzee, emergency preparedness kit, magician kit, poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), the divine comedy, puzzles, a rodent of some sort, or lingerie (if y'all are close)

21 - the world

gardening supplies, acoustic guitar, air conditioning or fan, architectural tour, teddy bear, snow globe, boots, calendar or planner, supergoop (sun protectant) products, wooden objects (cutting board, chest, box, etc), carpet, clay (air drying or via kiln), a clock or watch, compression stockings/socks, collectible coins, pain patches or kinetic tape, crystals, budget book, lotions for dry skin, dried fruits, gloves/mittens, hair care products, ice machine or ice making trays, ice cream subscription, pottery classes, rain coat, real estate or land, zen sand garden, sculpture, or snake

22 - the fool

flight lessons, model airplane, a flight to anywhere, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), an astrology reading, bath products, biking gear, movie theatre gift card, clock or watch, club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), mood lighting or strip lights, a train ride, fun magnets, motorcycle accessories/training, microphone (maybe they are filming or recording something), patterns for cross stitch / knitting / crocheting, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, stuff for the tv (surround sound, sound bar, streaming subscription, etc), or classes for one of their interests

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deadlynavigation · 1 year

Note

Hello, I really enjoyed your m! Wednesday x reader stories. Can you write about how his s/o gets shocked by the amount of gifts his gives and the expensive family vacations he takes them? Forgetting that he and his family are loaded lol.

Money Well Spent

Fandom: The Addams Family

Pairing: Male!Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing, mentions of seduction, rich people being rich

Author's Note: Wednesday is aged up in this- same as previous fics

Navigation

Your boyfriend had money. Was money. And it was getting ridiculous.

There were a couple of times he had crossed the line, a couple of times when he put a bit too much pressure on the already thin ice.

After a while, you kept a mental list of these moments.

-1-

It’s been almost a week since you last saw your boyfriend. Wednesday had accepted an offer for his work, but there was a catch- a weeklong business trip in New York.

Not that you blame him. From what he told you about the offer, it’s an amazing opportunity for both his position and his company, one that would benefit him for years to come. However, that doesn’t mean you can’t miss his gloomy presence and warm embraces from time to time.

So imagine your despair when he calls your cell, on the day he’s supposed to arrive back, informing you of a last-minute change of plans.

“So you’re staying another day.”

“With a heavy heart, cara mia.”

You sigh quietly, and it carries to the other end of the line. “I do apologize, Y/n. I didn’t account for further negotiations regarding the business deal.”

“It’s fine, Wednesday. It’s not that big of a deal- I’ve survived this long without you, haven’t I?”

“If only I could say the same, darling.”

And so here you were on a Friday night, watching some generic TV program and mulling over your to-do list for next week. If Wednesday were here, he’d kiss you until you forgot about it, claiming that the weekend is for you and him, not work.

After a bit of sulking, you hear movement near your apartment’s entrance. Probably the building settling. But as the mysterious sounds grow louder, you rise from the sofa, mind on high alert. You creep near the entranceway, eyes scanning for a weapon of some sorts.

“Y/n, are you home?” Wednesday’s voice echoes throughout the apartment as you pick up a particularly heavy shoe. Dropping it quickly, you make your way to the door, where Wednesday is leaning against the frame.

“Babes?”

“Darling.” He breathes in relief.

“You’re- back. I thought you had until tomorrow morning?”

“I was reminded once more of a man’s desire for money.”

You rub your forehead. “You bribed an agent.”

“I satisfied his materialistic desires.”

You stare at him for a minute before giving up trying to understand your boyfriend. Sensing your disapproval, Wednesday drops his luggage and pulls a small package from his coat pocket. It almost looks like a ring box, all black and ready to be opened.

“I understand your anger with me, Y/n. It is completely justified. However, this may make up for my tardiness.” He offers the box to you, face dead serious with a hint of anticipation. You take the box from him, opening it with steady hands. Wednesday has given you gifts before- expensive gifts. This better not be a repeat.

As the lid pulls back, a watch is revealed- a Jaquet Droz, from the look of it. You’re in love with it the second you see the sleek design. And though you’re tempted, you pull back into reality, facing your lover once more. He’s adopted the stance of a sheepish partner, knowing you would never allow yourself to buy this (but would want it all the same).

“You’re not buying me out with this.” You insist.

“Of course not, darling. I’d be disappointed if this was all it took.”

“And I’m expecting an apology.”

“In the morning. I was gone for a week, cara mia. Let me enjoy you right now, instead of the reminder of your absence.”

And so you sigh and grumble, but in the end, Wednesday has won your heart over with his loving words and actions and watch.

-2-

“Mr. and Mrs. Addams, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You say, muting the excitement in your voice for fear of them despising your expressive voice.

“The pleasure is ours. We’ve been waiting for Wednesday to introduce us to you, Y/n.” Gomez Addams replies happily.

“We’ve heard all about you from our son. All good things, of course. Tell us, is it true you’ve lit a spider’s heart on fire?”

“Mother, Father.” Wednesday cuts in. “Please don’t overwhelm them. We’ve only just arrived, and you’re picking them apart like they’re a deceased relative.”

“No, it’s fine.” You say, then lean over to your boyfriend. “You’re telling me that story later.”

“Of course.” Wednesday whispers, then turns back to his parents. “Shall we?” He gestures to the sitting room.

“Ah, yes. But before we do, your father has something for Y/n.”

Your eyebrows furrow. You turn to Wednesday, who is avoiding your glare in favor of picking a conversation with his mother, catching up quickly as Gomez goes to grab whatever it is he has up his sleeve.

“Here we are!” You all startle at Gomez’s loud exclamation in the room over. Clattering noises are heard before the father rushes back to you, Wednesday, and Morticia, holding a long object draped in velvety red fabric.

“This has been passed down to Addams’ lovers for generations. I gifted it to Morticia, my mother bestowed it upon my father, and her father… It’s been in the family for decades, and now it’s your turn to hold it.” And with that, he pulls what is possibly the most expensive-looking sword you have ever seen from the fabric, holding it out to you. Your eyes go wide as you look from the sword to Wednesday and back to the sword.

“Wow- thank you,” you marvel. Words cannot describe how beautiful the weapon is- and as you think of that, you almost snort at the irony. But it’s true. The sword really is amazing, jewels trapped in its metal as it glints in the moonlight.

“I would have told you, beloved, but that would ruin the surprise,” Wednesday murmurs into your ears as you accept the sword with a delicate touch. “You are holding thousands of dollars worth of beauty in your hand, yet it pales in comparison to you.”

You almost drop the sword as Wednesday takes on a seductive tone. You want to yell at him, that he is in front of his parents and this sword is worth more than all your organs combined, but damn, his voice-

“It’s an honor, Mr. Addams, Mrs. Addams.” You turn back to your hosts.

“Please, call me Morticia, dear.” Morticia smiles.

“And feel free to call me Gomez. You are part of the family now- and family uses first names.”

With that, they stride into the sitting room, expecting their son and his lover to follow. And you do- after you glare at Wednesday, drag him down by his coat lapels to kiss him heatedly, and hiss at him that you will be getting gloves to handle this sword.

-3-

“Pack your bags, cara mia.” Wednesday strides into your shared room, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes.

Your head rises from your book, eyebrows raised. “...Why?” You ask hesitantly.

“We’re going on a trip.”

You place your book down, not mentally prepared for Wednesday’s antics. “Kay, I’m gonna need a little bit more than that. You’re not just whisking me away to god knows where without any explanation whatsoever.”

Wednesday sighs dramatically as you wait, not moving to pack as he hoped you would. It’s a tense couple seconds, breeze fluttering in from the open windows as your gazes lock and a silent argument occurs.

Wednesday, surprisingly, breaks first. “To Spain,” he starts. “My father has friends there, and he thought it was high time he visited them again. With the whole family this time.”

Only the Addams Family could schedule an impromptu trip to another country with a snap of their fingers.

“See? That wasn’t that hard.” You coo sarcastically. “Now- what? I’m not technically family…”

Wednesday stops for a moment, taking your words in before walking over to where you’re perched on the sofa.

“Cara mia.” He murmurs, dropping to his knees in front of you. His fingers draw a path from your cheek to chin, settling there as he talks. “Look at me. You are family. My parents, however bothersome they may be, consider you the daughter they never had- and Pugsley hasn’t tried to put an arrow through your heart yet. You are family, as far as any of us are concerned.”

You breathe deeply for a moment, bathing in the romantic words of your lover. “All right, then.” The words tumble out of your mouth.

“Excellent. Now go pack.” Wednesday stands back up and goes to grab your suitcase.

That man would be the death of you.

#male wednesday addams x reader #male!wednesday addams x reader #male wednesday addams #addams family x reader #oneshot #fluff #requests #x reader #Wednesday x reader #addams are loaded fr

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wardenparker · 4 months

Text

Vampire Waltz - ch 13

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 7.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* References to past sexual encounters, a dash of angst, light gambling (friendly wager on cards), Reference to the Civil War, family drama/angst, brief mentions of blood drinking, tooth rotting fluff. Summary: Off on an adventure to Gilded Age New York City, the train ride has as much excitement in store as you could possibly have expected from the entire trip. Notes: A short but emotionally impactful chapter this week, my loves! Please enjoy a glimpse at a Pullman sleeper car. They're honestly pretty beautiful and comfy and I'd love to travel in one 💚

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12

Your breath is even, making your chest rise and fall slowly against his cool body. Wrapping around him as if you are afraid he would leave this bed while you rest. Even in sleep, your blissful sighs are soft and content, worn out by the endless hours Max had wrung orgasm after orgasm out of you. Learning your limits and everything that you like and dislike when a man has his tongue buried in your warmth. His own smirk is self-satisfied and slightly smug from the number of times you had called out to the gods because of the pleasure.

Hours later, after sleeping the morning and even some of the afternoon away and having an afternoon tea that is the equivalent of a Gilded Age light lunch, Mr. Taylor is loading your trunks onto the carriage that Emmanuel has arrived in to take you all to the train station. While your mother is saying a very sweet goodbye to her own mother, you and Max are standing just at the doorstep with Yayo.

“When you return we will discuss your intent to return home,” he tells you quietly, keeping his choice of words intentionally enigmatic. “For now, enjoy yourselves. I understand the Vanderbilts have offered you their guest rooms so you do not have to stay anywhere as impersonal as a hotel?”

Max smirks slightly and nods. “We have accepted the gracious invitation and will be a sterling example of the Brown name.” While Max is not using the same last name, he understands that his sire has vouched for him and any scandal would fall back on his reputation.

“Enjoy yourselves.” What Yayo has not told you is that he had given Max something of an allowance to be used while you are in New York, making sure that the group of you will be able to dine, shop, and travel as you see fit for your five-day trip. You’re even taking Renee with you, as you and Annie will doubtlessly need the help dressing for your many outings and dinners, and it would put a strain on the Vanderbilt’s staff if they had to supply two young ladies with a suitable maid for almost a week. Emmanuel’s valet has been instructed that he will also be dressing Max during the trip. It’s all…extraordinarily overdone, in your opinion. But as vacations go? It might be the single most luxurious one you’ll ever take in your life. So you intend to enjoy it.

“We intend to.” You assure your grandfather after he shakes Max’s hand and places a very paternal kiss on your cheek. “Thank you. I know this means the world to Annie.”

Max watches the exchange between you and your grandfather with soft affection. The knowing glint in the elder vampire’s eyes was telling and he had been subtly warned to take care of both you and your mother while off on this trip.

“And be sure to call on the Astors just to be polite.” He urges. The Astors and Roosevelts had been welcoming to you at the ball after finding out that you and Max were considered family.

“We’re having dinner there on Wednesday.” Getting that invitation had been thrilling as all hell. Just about as thrilling as when Max came to you seconds later to excitedly tell you that the Vanderbilts had offered you lodging. Max had been very popular last night.

“Very well.” Max’s sire nods seriously and glances at your soulmate. “We will see you when you return.”

Still in an extremely good mood from last night and from this morning, you lend your grandfather a smile before stepping away from the door to get into the carriage. "Enjoy having some peace and quiet."

Cookie slides up to her soulmate’s side and wraps her arm through his with a sly smirk. “We will.” She promises as she winks at you.

The carriage is large enough for the four of you to pile into, and the clear sky of the day means that Renee and Emmanuel's valet happily sit with the driver. The chilly October day is still sunny this afternoon and by the time you reach the train station and are loaded on board, the pinks and purples of sunset streak the sky through the windows of the Pullman car to light up the green and bronze colored interior brilliantly.

“This is niiiiiice.” Max knows none of the others will get the reference, but you will understand the tone as he examines the interior of the carriage with great enthusiasm.

Barely managing not to snort when you laugh, you have to cover your face and clear your throat to get your composure back when Emmanuel looks at you both quizzically. “It is exceptionally luxurious. And very kind of you to share your car with us.”

“This could feel like the elegant parlor in a home.” Max offers, reaching out and touching the pillow that it sitting in a cushioned chair.

“We have teased my mother that she spent more time styling the family’s car than she did choosing names for us all,” Emmanuel jokes, looking around the space with pride. “It is rather splendid though, is it not?”

“I think you could comfortably live in something like this.” Max is fully aware of the future, but it’s still a nice thought. Traveling by rail and touring the country is far more romantic than driving in an RV.

“Perhaps we should.” A squeeze of his hand makes him more than aware that you’re teasing, but you still wink playfully. “Travel the country in a Pullman car to decide where to live? It sounds positively luxurious.”

Max arches a brow at Emmanuel teasingly. “Happy wife, happy life, that’s my motto. Sounds like I might be ordering one from you. What all can go into one?”

The look of delight on Emmanuel’s face is like Christmas two months early, and you can’t help but laugh to yourself as your mother’s soulmate embarks on an obviously passionate listing of all the perks and practical benefits of long-term train travel in these cars specifically. “I think he enjoys talking about his family’s business,” you observe to Annie wryly.

“He is very proud of it.” She murmurs back, pride on her own face as she watches the two of them discuss business. “His dream to is run the company one day after his grandfather passes.”

“I’m sure they will be very proud to have him take over.” Knowing that the man will not survive that long makes you swallow your regret, but there is nothing you can do about it. History cannot be changed. If you interfere to spare your mother’s heartbreak, you will literally never be born.

"With the right woman by his side." She giggles quietly and bites her lip as she nearly vibrates with excitement. Emmanuel had asked to speak to her father just this morning and she's sure that a proposal is coming.

“Give him time.” Not having vampiric hearing, you’re unaware of what happened downstairs this afternoon while you were getting dressed to leave Newport. “Do not be disappointed if he takes a little time.”

"He spoke with father." She leans into whisper in confidence, breaking out into a large, happy grin. "I have a feeling that we will be engaged by the Astor's ball!"

“That will be quite the souvenir to return home with from the city.” It would be a wonderful thing for her right now, obviously, but you dread the idea that she might take your new found friendship so straight forwardly and do something like ask you to be in her wedding party. Something you would have to say no to.

"I think I might die!" She giggles dramatically and collapses against your arm. "He is just so perfect. And I've decided that I will ask him about his scars tonight."

“Then we might have a very eventful trip indeed.” She’s so happy and it’s intense and infectious and so very sweet — you can’t help but hug her as she stands beside you. “I would ask if you are excited to see the Vanderbilts again but I think you must have spent a lot of time with them.”

"Despite my father thinking little of their plans to tear down the cottages and build a bigger home, he quite likes them." She shrugs. "They have been very kind, especially when in social gatherings."

“With six children, I can only think the house must be very crowded.” There were so many times as a child that you had wished for that many siblings, but as an adult the idea of giving birth to six kids makes you want to carry a bottle of Advil out of fear.

"I cannot even imagine." Annie shakes her head and bites her lip. "I don't think I would want that many children myself."

“Neither do I.” Ah. Interesting to know after the fact that you were an only child because your mother very reasonably didn’t want to put her body through that. That sounds very much like your pragmatic mother.

"Although, mother assures me that father has the most delightful pain tonic to help with the pains." She sighs softly. "I was never lonely like some expected me to be as an only child."

“Then you were very lucky.” Before you can say more, which is probably for the best, the conductor comes around to ask the four of you to settle in for the beginning of the journey. There is a table and set of four chairs in the center of the car for you to sit together, and Emmanuel reaches into his pocket to pull out a deck of cards. “Shall we amuse ourselves before dinner?” He offers, putting the deck on the table before holding Annie’s chair out for her to sit comfortably

"Absolutely." Max has learned how gentleman play cards in this time and finds it fascinating.

"Shall I pour you ladies a sherry to enjoy?" Emmanuel asks, motioning to a bar cart set up in one corner.

“If we could have tea?” Annie quickly asks the gentleman before he leaves your car all together. He nods politely and exits. “I…have noticed that your wife does not often partake, Mr. Philips. I would not wish my dear friend to feel left alone.”

“It is true, my wife does not enjoy the taste of alcohol.” Max agrees. “It is not a bad thing, I find that the taste is rather bitter myself and dinners are far more reasonable with tea than a bottle of wine.”

“Then we will all have tea.” Emmanuel offers, once Max has you settled at the table. With the four of you sitting it’s a very happy atmosphere and Emmanuel begins to shuffle the deck.

Max shoots you a grin as he leans back and watches Emmanuel. “Aficionado, hmmmm? We’ll see. Perhaps we might have to make a wager if you are as good as you imagine you are.”

“How much?” The other man chuckles, feeling lively at the proposition.

“How about a nickel a hand?” Max asks, raising a brow playfully. When he had been a broke college kid, it had been quarter poker, but five cents is particularly generous in this time.

“That’s a very friendly wager, Max.” It makes the other man laugh again, and he nods. From the depths of his coin purse he is sure to unearth as many rounds’ worth of nickels as ever he should need. “A nickel a hand it is.”

Max grins and pulls out some bills to exchange for the nickels and divides them but between all of you.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a card player, but I'm happy to try." Modern poker, or Go Fish, or even a game of hearts on your laptop while you were in college was all fairly standard. But bridge has proven difficult for you to pick up, if a few nights of sitting at the card table with you mother and grandmother are anything to go by.

“Don’t worry.” Max reaches out and pats your hand. “Why don’t we keep the rules simple?”

"Just regular poker will do." Annie's grin is mischievous and instantly you're back at the dining room table with your parents on Sunday afternoons while they played cards and you did homework or colored or read a book. It seemed to be the only time you weren't twirling around the house like a sugared up cyclone.

He arches a brow at your mother and grins. “Regular poker it is.” Emmanuel laughs as he starts to dole out the cards to everyone. “Aces high, Jokers bust.”

It might be the most relaxed and most pleasant way to pass an evening that you’ve had in ages. No television to sit around, not all of you sitting individually on your phones. Just a card game and a pot of tea and friends. Although, it is particularly entertaining to watch Max realize that your mother is an exceptional poker player, which is definitely not what he had anticipated.

“Renee had a sweetheart in the war twenty years ago,” Annie explains through giggles at the table after she wins yet another hand. “He taught her the game after they played it at their camps so often, and she taught me.”

“Really?” Max has always been interested in the other vampire, wanting to know her story, but she’s surprisingly closed mouthed. “They must have had fun playing cards.”

“It was about one of the only fun things they did have.” Annie agrees, swallowing a sigh. “He was a part of a medical unit. The poor man survived the entire war and then succumbed to a fever barely a year after the surrender at Appomattox Courthouse. She accepted being turned rather than continue to suffer, but her sweetheart refused.”

“That’s sad.” Max frowns slightly, not even able to imagine the loss of her lover. “Was he her soulmate? Or first love?”

“Renee’s soulmate was her sister.” Pausing at the appearance of the night’s second tea tray, Annie thanks the steward who brings it in and waits for them to leave before continuing. “He was her first love. But her family didn’t approve. She left home to be with him and still lost him, poor thing.”

“Her sister?” Max tilts his head curiously, knowing about platonic soulmates but he’s never heard of siblings who are soulmates. “Twins?”

“Indeed.” Annie nods, moving to pour tea out for everyone but you beat her to it. “It seems there was some sort of rivalry between her family and his, and except for her sister, they couldn’t see to forgive her for choosing him. They still exchange letters, but the post takes time.”

“Did her twin also become a vampire?” His eyes cut over to Emmanuel but the other man just looks up from his cards curiously. The subject of the undead obviously not phasing him at all.

“Martha wasn’t hit with the same fever that took Johnson and almost took Renee. She’s still back in West Virginia with their family.” Annie stops long enough to thank you for her cup, and fixes Emmanuel’s for him at the table. “They’re God-fearing people, Max. Renee still hasn’t told her sister how she survived the fever. She’s afraid Martha will cut her out, too.”

“No doubt, it would be better if a visit didn’t occur.” Max snorts, still bitter at the lack of relationship with his own parents.

“They would likely notice that she has not aged in twenty years.” This time Annie shakes her head, sipping her own tea to steady herself. “I am sure you know, but most vampires are forced to cut ties with their mortal families at one point or another.”

“Lucky for me, I cut ties before then.” Max huffs with a sardonic grin.

“And know you have a whole other family.” It’s very clear that Emmanuel sees only the silver lining as he sits back and smiles. “And it grows beautifully. Your sire, his family, and now your wife.”

“My wife is worth everything.” Max isn’t just playing to his audience, he means it. Taking your hand that isn’t wrapped around your card and kissing it softly.

While the ring is burning a hole in Emmanuel’s pocket, this is not the right time. He has already planned out when and where to ask Annie to be his bride, and a train car is not at all grand enough for such an important question. “You are very lucky to have found each other,” he observes instead. “To find one’s soulmate is a genuine blessing.”

“Yes.” Max winks at you and then glances at where Annie is fidgeting slightly, looking worried and eager all at the same time. “What about you, Mannie?” He asks, leaning back. “What kind of marks have you made to lead your soulmate to you?”

“Wherever she is, she has remained a mystery to me.” Which is a terrible disappointment, if he’s honest. He had always dreamed of something dramatic and romantic like seeing a shared mark on a lady’s arm at a ball. Since meeting Annie Brown, though, he has been glad that that never happened. The love he feels for her is far too deep to deny. “I have no marks from my soulmate. Only somewhere in the world, she wears the scar on her leg from when I fell off my horse as a boy.”

Max can feel the way Annie’s heart nearly leaps in her chest and your own hand squeezes his tightly. “Interesting. Which leg? I have to say that I am unfortunate enough that I don’t have scars either. Different circumstances, of course.”

“Of course.” Emmanuel chuckles lightly, not thinking anything of it. “It is my left leg. A rather unsightly mark, too. I ought to apologize to the lady for bestowing it on her if I ever were to meet her.” There is a deeply felt — a dearest hope — in his heart that it could be Annie. But he has been too afraid to ask and be disappointed.

She inhales sharply, eyes wide and hopeful and her cards are all but abandoned in her hand. “I am sure it’s not too bad.” She volunteers. “Just a mark slightly larger than the palm of my hand?”

“With a…” He swallows thickly, and suddenly Emmanuel cannot look away from the woman beside him for anything in the world. “A curve on one end…like the top of a cane…how could you…?”

Nodding almost frantically, Annie leans in and drops the cards to grab her beau’s hand. “Please tell me that this is the mark you are describing?” She begs. “Please tell me you are my soulmate.”

“It cannot be.” He has never thought that he could be this lucky. That the woman he had fallen in love with so quickly has found it in her heart to love him back is one thing. For her to truly be the other half of his soul is something truly remarkable. “Are we really to be twice blessed?” He clutches her hands tightly, knowing that to ask to see her bare leg is entirely out of the question but knowing that she recognizes his mark means the world.

Max smirks and looks over at you as you watch your mother look like the sun is shining just for her. “Should be in one of those romance books, hmmm?”

“We should give them some space.” If you don’t, there’s a chance that you might not be able to contain yourself, and that you might give something away by shedding tears instead of being happy for Annie. Watching your mother discover her soulmate is a gut punch that you hadn’t quite expected.

“Come.” Max senses how emotional you are and stands. “Shall we see our sleeping berth?”

You nod, trying your best to keep yourself composed while he helps you up and leads you to the two single-side beds on the far end of the car. Pullman cars aren’t equipped with doubles for married couples, but you’ll barely be a foot apart.

“Interesting sleeping arrangements.” Max ticks a brow up before he turns to you. “Are you alright, Queenie?” He asks, rubbing your arms gently. He knows this is a shock for you.

“I didn’t expect to be here for the reveal,” you admit, tucking into his side and letting yourself drop down onto one of the mattresses indiscriminately. “I’m okay. It’s a lot, though.”

“It’s okay to like Emmanuel.” He reminds you softly, dropping down beside you. “I hate that I would have loved to have him for the dreaded F. I. L.”

“He’s such a nice man.” A few tears break free as you bury your face in Max’s side. “And he makes her so happy.”

“And your father made her happy for the rest of her life.” Max wraps his arms around you and lets you cry. There’s no reason to chide you for it, considering that he feels emotional about it all too.

“I just wish there was a way for her to have it all,” you admit quietly. “Her soulmate, her second love, and her family. Everything that made her happy.”

“She gets to have you again.” Max comforts you softly. “Even if she doesn’t know that she should, she loves you. Just as you are.”

“I’m glad she doesn’t know everything that’s happened.” Knowing that Max will understand why, the best thing to do right now is just to stifle your tears with a handkerchief and try to recompose yourself. “And I’m glad that abuela doesn’t either.”

“I hate that we can’t tell them.” Max admits softly. “Let them change it.”

“I wouldn’t ever be born.” That is enough of a deterrent to keep you in line, but it still hurts your heart. “Or if I would be, I would be a different version of myself.”

“I love you, just as you are,” Max promises softly. “But if you could have not had the heartbreak, it would have been better for you.”

“It would have been better for you, too, love.” If you could have spared Max from suffering in any way you would have, but you squeeze his hands tightly and place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “But I love you, too. Just as you are.”

The skipping beat of his heart is fleeting and he turns his head to kiss you again, addicted to the sensation. “Too bad kissing other places doesn’t have the same effect.” He murmurs with a teasing grin.

"I was kind of hoping it would," you admit, cheeks immediately burning hot with the reminder of this morning. "It certainly makes my heart beat faster, though."

“I know.” Max leers and his tongue swipes over his lips in satisfaction. “I felt it. Every stuttering, skipping pulse as it throbbed through your sweet little pussy.”

"Max!" You may be on the other side of the train car, but there is still a chance that Annie and Emmanuel might hear him if they ever come up from the way their heads are bowed at the card table.

“What?” He huffs, grinning broadly at your embarrassment. “We’re married.”

"Yeah..." Huffing right back at him, you glance over at the other couple seriously. "And my virgin mother is in the same room," you remind him as quietly as possible.

“She might not be by the time this train goes home.” Max reminds you. “Not the way those two smell right now.”

"Oh gods, I did not need to know that." You poke his side and all but shudder. "I know it's a hundred years too early but she's still...her."

“Mommy had to have some sex.” He teases softly. “She had you. And she’s really old to have been a hundred-year-old virgin.”

“It’s just not something I��ve ever thought about.” There was no need for you to. Not up to age eighteen. And then your parents became frozen in time in your mind’s eye. “You’re right, it’s just never something I’ve spent time on.”

“One day, our kids will have the same revelation.” Max hums. “Unless we are just freely sexual around them and they groan and roll their eyes, talking about horrible their parents are.”

“I know what Yayo said, but I’m trying not to get too excited about the idea of kids,” you admit, eyes dropping from his to your hands in his lap. “Just in case.”

“I know.” Max’s grin drops into a more serious expression and he covers your warm hands with a cool one. “If we don’t, we don’t. It’s not the end of the world. We’ll adopt a little shit and spoil them rotten if you want.”

“You’ve never mentioned having any vampiric children.” And you’ve never asked, so it’s not entirely on him. “I take it I’m not a stepmother?”

“I’ve—”Max frowns and blows out a useless sigh. “All but one was destroyed when— when I was.” He admits quietly. “But I don’t look at them like kids. Or I didn’t.” He snorts. “He’s in California for some fucking reason.”

“You have a son?” He may not look at his vampiric offspring as a child but you certainly do, and your eyes widen immediately. “I don’t even know where to start. I—tell me everything.”

“Okay….” He snorts and shakes his head. “It’s not a very long story, but I’ll tell you.”

“Short stories can still be interesting,” you remind him, finding yourself aghast that he just hadn’t mentioned it.

He shuffles slightly, embarrassed by his past behavior. “The guy who ruined my life? I got a job for the company he worked for.”

“Right.” Trying to conjure up every detail of information he has given you about that situation, you nod along with his explanation. “The telesales company.”

“Yep. I sold myself to management, using the vampirism as a business model. Convinced them sales would increase if they had a workforce of the undead. The company was going under and they were desperate for any Hail Mary.”

“So you…sired people at the office?” It seems more than slightly outrageous, but companies have surely done crazier things out of desperation.

“Yeah.” He huffs quietly. “I wanted to prove there was a better way, better reason to be a vampire.” He huffs. “And get revenge on that little annoying fucker.”

“So one of them is still alive?” The term makes you cringe, though, and you slump apologetically. “So to speak.”

“One, yeah.” He frowns slightly, bothered by all the people destroyed because of his selfishness more than he realizes. Maybe that was why he never truly fought against his punishment as he thought of his confinement to the Newport house. He felt as if he deserved much worse. Realizing now that you were all your grandfather had actually cared about.

“Hey.” One hand flat on his chest brings his attention back to you and you tilt your head at him quizzically. “What just happened in there?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Max snaps back to you and bites his lip.

“You disappeared into your own head.” Unconsciously mirroring him, you bite your lip too. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry. I already pried.”

“No.” The best way to make Max open up is for you to blame yourself for something, even something small. “I just— I realized how many people died because of me.” He admits, wondering if that would change how you feel about him.

“You’re literally a different person than you were then.” You remind him gently. “And you’re living a completely different…afterlife.”

“Still…..” max closes his eyes. “It was seventy-three people.”

“Which is why you drink from donors now and make business deals in ink instead.” It isn’t much comfort, but at least you can show Max that he’s changed. He’s become a better man since his afterlife got upended. “Speaking of which…” You take his hand in yours and squeeze gently. “You haven’t had any blood since we got here.”

“I know.” Max doesn’t want to admit that he’s starting to feel thirsty. “I’m alright.”

“You won’t be in another day or two.” And since the middle of that hunger and thirst will come during a trip away from the steady donor so helpfully supplied by your grandfather — under circumstances you absolutely don’t want to know about — you squeeze his hand again. “But I’m not going to let you go thirsty. I promise.”

Max shakes his head. “No, I’ll— I don’t want you to do something you aren’t comfortable with.” You had shown you were squeamish about it and Max has not brought it up again. You had flinched once when he was going down on you and that was enough to cross it off the list of things he would do with you.

“I’m more comfortable with you drinking from me than I am with the thought of you sharing something so intimate with a complete stranger,” you admit. “You said yourself how deeply the connection can be felt.”

“You flinched.” He reminds you softly, telling himself it’s ridiculous to be hurt by that when it’s a normal reaction to fangs.

“Because I was afraid it might hurt.” The sheepishness — the embarrassment — in your quiet confession is very clear, and your eyes drop down to your hands again because your fear hurt him and you don’t deserve to look him in the eyes. “Not because I don’t want to take care of you.”

“It doesn’t matter if you think you should.” Max sighs. “I don’t want you to ever do something you don’t want with me. If you’re afraid it will hurt, I won’t do it.”

“Max…” You hadn’t expected him to protest, honestly thinking he would been overjoyed at the offer. It just goes to show that you’re not quite as adjusted to this relationship as you thought you were. You had expected him to just take without any thought, but that isn’t Max. Or, at least, that isn’t Max anymore. “Will you at least consider it?”

“If you want me to.” He doubts he would, but your brow is knitted with worry and he hates that.

“I want you to. To consider it and to do it. But not until you’re ready.” And part of That sense to be showing him that you aren’t afraid anymore, so you will do everything you can.

“I love you, Dolly.” Max whispers, offering you his hand. “I just don’t want to fuck up and hurt you.”

“I’d rather have a little bit of hurt from a bite than be hurt because I’ve lost you,” you tell him honestly. Him not feeding is not an option, just like it’s not an option for you not to eat, either.

“You aren’t going to lose me.” Max promises. “If I had to eat someone, I would, just to stay with you.”

"You don't have to, though." Looking back up at him, your gaze is surprisingly steady. "And I can stay with you forever, too."

“Mrs. Phillips, are you proposing to me?” He’s grinning, but he sounds scandalized. “How terribly modern of you.”

“I suppose I am, in a way.” It wasn’t what you had meant to do — not strictly speaking — but at the heart of it is the same conversation. That you want to be with him. Just him. For as long as you possibly can.

“Makes sense.” Max tells you. “Since we are married.” He looks at you softly and reaches into his pocket. “You want to be with me? Forever?”

“I really do.” The certainty is extraordinary. Something you never truly thought would ever happen. It here you are, with his hand in yours, and you know in your heart that you will do anything in your power to stay with him.

Max decides that it might not be the most glamorous thing, but he slides off the bed and kneels down in front of you. “Dolly, Queenie, my soulmate…” He starts, his cockiness fading and there’s a naked, earnest expression in his eyes. “I never thought I would be able to have you. You are perfect, better than I ever dreamed and I am not even worthy of you, but for some reason, you want me.” He takes a small, leather box out of his pocket. “Will you roam the earth with me and experience eternity together?”

“Oh gods…” If someone had asked you the least likely things to happen to you in the entire world, this would have been on the list. Your soulmate, a happy relationship, engagement and marriage — all of these things. They were put on a shelf out a reach and you didn’t ever think your arm would stretch that far for the rest of your life. But here in this train car it’s Max that you reach for, tearing up and giggling softly and feeling your whole self light up brightly with “Yes!”

It’s pure relief that has Max grinning, thankful and happy that someone finally put him first. Someone, the most important someone, believed him — believed in him. “I want— here.” The normal suaveness completely leaves your soulmate and he opens the ring box nervously. Hoping you like your ring.

“Get up here,” you insist, pulling him up to sit next to you on the bed so you can kiss him before anything else happens. The little leather box holds a sparkling diamond set in gold and that is wonderful, but what you want more than ever is to hold onto this feeling of sweet, deep, honest love that’s pounding in your chest.

Like all the kisses before, Max feels his heart move and he knows that is because you love him, not because of the soulmate connection. He cups your face tenderly as he pours himself into the kiss, not putting on a facade for you, just being greedy for your affection.

In this moment it’s all you can do to be mildly cognizant of the fact that your mother is in the room, and even if she doesn’t know she’s your mother it’s still another two people who probably just heard you squeal at Max’s arms wrapping right around you. Thankfully the soft moan he drew out of you just seconds later was soft. Only for his ears.

You’re his. The realization makes his heart thump even more with your lips against his and he groans into your mouth. The scent of you utterly intoxicating and he will be able to have it forever.

It’s so easy to get caught up in him. Caught up in the way that you can always tell when he’s being playful, or teasing, or his most honest self with you just from the way he kisses you. His armor has been tossed by the wayside and all that is left for you to see is his whole heart — which is a privilege you never intend to squander. It’s only the sound of a throat clearing that brings you out of the moment, as Emmanuel glances across the train car with reddened cheeks.

“Oh.” Max is almost disappointed by the interruption, but he grins over at the other man. “I apologize. It’s wonderful kissing your soulmate, isn’t it?” He asks knowingly.

“Wonderful.” Emmanuel agrees immediately, knowing that you and Max are aware that he and Annie have shared more than dances. “We ought to celebrate.”

“Yes we should!” Max immediately agrees, popping up and reaching over and shaking the man’s hand. “How about I make the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had?” He knows the bar cart would have chocolate for the ladies and it will let everyone have something special without popping a bottle of champagne.

“Trust me. Say yes.” You assure them both when Annie looks to you curiously. You had mentioned this quirk of your husband’s before and it had intrigued her.

“Yes.” Annie agrees with authority, laughing all the while. She feels positively light as air and doesn’t want to waste a single moment of this joy.

“I’ll be back in a flash.” Max winks and shoots past all of you fast enough to make yours and Annie’s skirts sway.

“Forgive me.” You smooth your hands over her skirt before getting up and coming back over to the card table. “I seem to have gotten carried away.”

“You are married.” Annie scoffs, waving away your apologies. “I hope that I do not have a dull marriage. I want my husband, my soulmate, to wish to kiss me every chance he gets.” The eyes she makes at Emmanuel are not subtle.

“And I am sure he will. After you are married.” It’s obviously not something you care about — Twenty-first century dating being far different from nineteenth century courting — but you have to pretend. To act like a lady of this time and place. “If your parents found out that you anticipated your vows when I was supposed to be here to stop you, they would never trust us all out together again.”

Annie snorts and rolls her eyes. “I very seriously doubt my parents will mind. You are here to be a show of propriety, as well as dear friends.”

"My only thought is to make sure you are taken care of." Her hand finds yours as you reach across the table, and for a moment you just smile at each other. Just a small moment of sharing in each other's happiness means so much, and you end up shrugging as if you are dramatically giving in. When in fact you have no intention of intruding on whatever historically happened between your mother and her soulmate the first time around. "I'm glad that you're happy. Both of you."

“Thank you.” Annie tugs you close and pulls you in for a tight hug. “You have been such a dear friend so quickly. It feels as though we have always known each other.”

"Like family," you hum, holding yourself to just a smile and making sure your perceptive mother can't see past the necessary lies that have been told.

“Exactly like family.” She beams, happy you seem as like minded as she. “Perhaps we will be one day.” She muses. “Our children could marry.”

"Anything is possible." Is the enigmatic answer you go with, knowing full well that that particular scenario is not in the cards. But that's no reason to ruin your mother's joy. "Sometimes family can be the people you choose, too. Not only marriage and blood."

“Yes….blood.” Annie sighs slightly and then looks towards the soulmate she had just discovered. “My parents will be thrilled, absolutely thrilled.”

"Don't let anything steal your joy right now," you squeeze her fingers again before sitting back, hearing the sounds of someone walking toward the car and hoping that it's Max. "Not anything at all."

“Who is ready for the richest hot chocolate they have ever tasted?” Max asks as the door opens and a large tray is filled with a set of cups.

"I'm intrigued," Emmanuel laughs, watching your very proud soulmate come back inside with his tray. "Where did you learn such a particular skill?"

How does he explain baristas? Max grins. “My nanny taught me.” He decides. “She would make the most marvelous hot chocolate and I always wanted it, so she insisted I learn.”

“How marvelous.” Annie perks up enthusiastically and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the thick, creamy drink. “Oh, it smells divine!” It is an indulgence to be sure, but that is only because of her own mother’s sensibilities. Chocolate is a treat, not to be overindulged in.

Smiling, Max looks like the pet student who is being recognized for their efforts. The fact that he is a praise seeker isn’t new, but this time, having the approval of your mother is rewarding. Even if she doesn’t know about the familial connection.

You already know it’s going to be amazing, but watching your mother and Emmanuel take their first sips and then light up like kids in a literal candy store is amazing. “Your nanny must have been a witch,” Annie declares, sighing openly at the divine taste. “Because this is obviously magic of the most wonderful sort.”

“She must have been.” Max winks at you and leans in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “My wife married me for the recipe, but I have not given it to her yet.” He jokes. “She might run away.”

“Even if I had the recipe, I don’t think I could make it as well as you.” Your first sip comes with a hum on contentment. The chocolate in this time has less sugar, making it taste deeper and richer than when he would make it at home. “Part of the recipe must be love.”

“You know it is.” He hums indulgently and bats his eyes at you playfully. “Only the best for my love.”

The extremely unladylike snort from you causes laughter all around the table. This atmosphere of playfulness so far has been pervasive, like a wonderful warm hug. Right now you want nothing more than for that to last. To last for however long it is that you’ll be stuck in the past — because as much fun as you’re having? You do have to go home.

******

Even though there are two beds provided for you and Max, as any upper class Gilded Age couple would expect, there is only a curtain to give you privacy for the night. So when you crawl into the same bed together in your chemise and Max’s silk pajamas — apparently brand new and all the rage in America — you almost feel scandalous about it. Maybe that’s coming from the fact that you’re all but certain Annie and Emmanuel have crawled in together on the other side of the car, but you’re telling yourself that that’s none of your business. For now, all your focus belongs to Max…and the glittering ring on your finger as it catches the moonlight coming in the open window.

“Do you like it?” He whispers softly. He had worried because modern rings are larger, more simplistic, but he had hoped you would like the elaborate filigree and design on the ring.

“It’s gorgeous.” Tucking yourself closer in his arms, you tip your head back to kiss him. “I love it. How did you even manage to go find one?”

“Your grandfather took me to his jeweler.” He hums, proud of the fact that you like it.

“Conspiring with my Yayo, I’m very impressed.” It doesn’t actually surprise you at all, but you’re glad that they’re getting along in this time as well as in your own. Max’s own family predicament makes you so grateful that your grandparents have welcomed him with open arms. “It’s perfect, baby. I—thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” His body slots against yours perfectly and he pulls you closer. “I know that we aren’t actually….you know.” He lowers his voice so only you can hear. “But I wanted you to have a piece of this time when we go back.”

“Can you imagine?” A little giggle escapes you and you muffle it against his chest. “If I actually manage to get us home again and we just roll up into the house legally married for 138 years?”

He snorts, grinning into the darkness as he ignores the sounds coming from the next bed. It’s too quiet for you to hear, so he pretends he doesn’t either. “Not like we wouldn’t be married for 138 more after we get back.”

“And maybe more.” Who knows what will happen? You’re certainly not going to claim to be an expert on how the world works. Not after discovering that time travel is real.

“Maybe more.” Max nuzzles his nose against your cheek and smiles. “Are you having a good time with your mother, Dolly?”

“I am. I know it’s not the same but it’s so nice to just see her face and hear her voice again.” And if you could do the same for Max, you would do it in a heartbeat.

“I know, Dolly.” Max sighs sadly. “I wish I could have met your version of her.”

“She’s still her. Just less…Mom.” That doesn’t make any sense but you can’t articulate it any better so you shrug. “Though I guess I understand now why she always talked about going to the opera when she was little. That’s what people do in this time.”

“And you are going to get to experience that with her. In this time.” He reminds you, having already been informed that tickets will be waiting.

“If you get bored then just slip out of the box and go smoke cigars with Vanderbilt or something.” For all you know Max hates the opera. It hadn’t exactly been a point of debate when the Vanderbilts had announced their intention to takes you along to the brand new Metropolitan Opera House with them. “I won’t be offended, I swear.”

“No, I doubt I would be bored.” Max shakes his head. “It will be a fine study if the aristocracy in New York.”

“This is like the weirdest vacation in the world.” You snort at yourself slightly. At the odd memory that just popped into your head. “It’s Where in Time is Carmen Sandiago? the real game.”

“Now starring…Dolly.” He intones dramatically, like he’s an announcer. He grins in the darkness when you giggle.

“That will be your career if I can’t get us back,” you tease, light and laughing softly in the night instead of scared or worried. Somehow he makes you so sure that things will work out that you are able to breathe freely in moments like these. “A vaudeville announcer. And then we’ll get you into radio afterward.”

Max snorts softly. “Wouldn’t that be a hell of a note? Live a life back in time and reappear in our own timeline like nothing ever happened?”

“It’s all going to depend on how long it takes me to learn how to get us home,” you remind him gently. The fact is, this could be a very real problem to have, but at the moment it doesn’t seem like the worst sort of very real problem.

“Doesn’t matter how long it takes, my love.” He whispers, rubbing your back soothingly. “We have eternity and as long as I have you, I can live wherever, or whenever, we are.”

______

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kryptonitejelly · 2 years

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Flyboy (Part 1) | Jake Seresin x Reader Top Gun: Maverick - Jake Seresin x Reader Genre: romance; fluff; angst; best friends to lovers Warnings: general hangman being hangman; sexual tension; general cursing; will contain mentions of a break up / previous relationship; general use of pet names; fem!reader; pining; general naval / flying inaccuracies. Length: Mini-series, chaptered - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Epilogue

Summary: Jake gets called back to TOPGUN the same time you’ve been granted a sabbatical from work. He invites you, his purely platonic best friend of years, to live with him for 6 months and you accept. Just two best friends kicking it back for 6 months in San Diego, Fightertown USA, right?

Flyboy | Mini-Series Masterlist

(If you haven’t already seen them - blurbs and asks (one-shots coming soon) are also listed on the Flyboy masterlist!)

Flyboy - Part 1

Approximately 3.2k words

A/N: I know, the pacing for this is a bit slow, but I felt a little scene setting was necessary, we’ll get faster with pacing I promise.

I am taking a sabbatical

You had sent the text off without much thought before chucking your personal phone onto the corner of your desk. It was just a part of the usual routine you had with Jake where you each shot off the regular text update amidst each of your own busy lives, you with corporate America and he with the VFA-151 Vigilantes, the name of the squadron being something you remembered because he had made you memorise it the day he had been assigned.

“Yeah Jane?” You pick up the handset of your desk phone, silencing it after the second ring, your hands dropping from the keyboard of your computer.

“Jake Seresin on the line for you, shall I patch him through?” You eyebrows shoot up slightly in surprise, as you lean back in your chair.

“Yeah go ahead. Thanks Jane.” The dial tone is brief, before the familiar drawl crackles over your line.

“How long?”

“Why are you calling me on my office line Seresin.”

“You weren’t answering your mobile,” a reach for and flip of your personal phone reveals he is right, “how long?”

“6 months.” You exhale out as your fingers tug at the phone cord, attempting to untangle a knot that had formed.

“Any plans?”

“Not yet, thought I would get to planning after it got approved.”

“How does a trip to San Diego sound?”

It had taken a total of two minutes for him to persuade you over the phone to come out with him to San Diego for 6 months, but you had let him think it had been fifteen minutes on the phone plus a day. He had explained to you that TOPGUN had called him, along with the entire batch of aviators from the uranium mission, back to help run a 6 month programme during which they would help out with training a new batch of recruits. He had told you that it was orders from the Admiral after the near disaster of a success they had with the uranium mission. You wouldn’t admit, but you had felt your shoulders sag with tension you hadn’t even known you had been holding once you had learned that his role at TOPGUN this round, was far less dangerous than the usual role he played when TOPGUN came knocking.

The summer heat greets you in full force as you exit the airport, your feet stepping through the automated double doors. You raise a hand to shield your eyes from the glare as you roll your suitcases forward, eyes searching for the familiar light brown, almost blonde head of hair.

“Darlin did you bring the whole of New York here?” His voice cuts through the heat, and you can’t help the smile that slips onto your face as you drop your hand from above your eyes to meet the shaded eyes of Jake Seresin. The last time you had seen him in the flesh had been 5 months ago when he had appeared at your door, bottle of tequila and greasy fast food in hand, after your update that you had broken up with Dan, your boyfriend of three years.

“Thought you weren’t going to show.” You joke as he reaches forward for you, tugging you into a hug. His hands engulfing your shoulders, folding you into his body with ease, your hands twisting themselves around his midsection, your cheek pressed into his chest.

“Missed me?” You can hear the rumble of his voice through his chest, as he teases you, but squeezes tighter.

“Not that much.” You counter, as you breathe in, taking in the familiar scent that is Jake.

You had met Jake in high school, long before he had become Jake “Hangman” Seresin. Jake had always been Jake, confident, hot-headed, and sure of himself, but Jake was also well, Jake - your version of Jake, sweet, caring, and goofy. Your friendship had been an unlikely one, you the new transfer student who had moved during the middle of the school year, and Jake Seresin, the popular brown hair, almost blonde kid with the green eyes.

Your family had moved in next door to the Seresin household, and you, as an uprooted teenager, mad about having to move in the middle of the school year when you only had a year and a half more to go, had spent the late afternoons coming home from school pounding the pavement, running laps around the neighbourhood to take out your frustration. It was, as you had thought, better than sitting at home listening to your mother talk to you about “smiling more, trying to make friends, and make the best of the rest of high school”.

Jake had seen you running each afternoon since you had moved in. You didn’t look it, but you were fast, and getting faster. It had been a sweltering Thursday afternoon when he had laced up his running shoes, and fallen into step beside you as you whizzed past his house, on the third lap of your run around the neighbourhood. He hadn’t know what had possessed him, but he had to know if you were any faster than him. You remember throwing him the side eye, and picking up your pace, music pounding in your ears as you both ran laps around the neighbourhood, him matching your pace, and you keeping his.

You were both winded and drenched in sweat at the end of that run, with you ripping off your headphones to him introducing himself in between pants, with a “I’m Jake. You’re fast.”, and the rest well, the rest was history. You both had gone on to become inseparable throughout high school, even going on to graduate from the same college, before you went your separate ways, him to the Navy, and you falling into your life in corporate America. But you always kept in touch, him flying out to see you in New York, you to him, or both of you back home, when you had the time.

“Lying isn’t a good look for you.” He finally breaks away from you, smirk on his face as he takes over both your suitcases from you.

“I think this is a good look for me.” You reach over, plucking his aviators off his face with ease to slip them onto your face as he squints at the sudden glare of sunlight on his face, his hair - sans gel - flopping across his forehead.

“Not a chance.” He snorts as he tugs your suitcases along with ease, navigating both your way through the crowds and towards his truck where you bend, ready to hoist and load your luggage into the back of his truck, when he cuts in, hand over yours, halting you.

“These aren’t only for show you know.” He says as he flexes an arm in front of you, causing his bicep to bunch beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

“Ever the southern gentleman.” You drawl as you bat your lashes at him. You do it in jest, and he knows, but it still earns you a grin before he loads your suitcases onto his truck.

“Ready?” He asks you as you both shut yourselves into his truck.

“As I’ll ever be.” You nod as you buckle yourself into the seat, a nod of your head lining up with the click of the seatbelt into the clasp. “Fightertown USA, here we come.”

You keep your eyes trained on the road in front of you as you settle back into the seat, your gaze still shielded by the aviators you had earlier stolen. It causes you to miss the look on Jake’s expression before he pulls the car out of park. Soft, a mixture of peace, promise, yearning, excitement and wonderment. He manages to quickly wipe it off his face, replacing the look with his trademark smirk as you turn to glance at him for a second.

“It’s cute.” You say as you step through the threshold of the house, pushing Jake’s aviators to rest on the top of your head.

“It isn’t what you are used to.” He follows behind, your luggages in tow. “No shiny glass and sleek corners.”

“Everything I need a break from.” You say as you peer out of a window that offers you a view into the back of the house which boasts grass and a boundary of white picket fence.

“The rest have houses around too.” He closes the door behind him. “I’ll introduce you tonight.”

Bringing the group back as instructors for 6 months came with perks. The Navy had offered them each a choice of accommodation between staying in dorms on base, or in a Navy owned house situated in a closed off Navy gated community a 20 minute drive away from base, which was another 25 minutes away from town. Needless to say, they had all picked the house.

“Tonight?” You echo, as you dump your purse down on the sofa before collapsing back onto it. “I could have plans.”

The sofa sinks as Jake settles in, throwing himself onto the space beside you. He turns his head, cheek smushed against the back of the sofa as he looks at you, brow raised.

“Oh yeah?” You nod and he continues. “Got a hot date lined up that I don’t know about?”

You place a hand on your chest, pretend gasp coming out of your mouth.

“Are you doubting my pull Seresin?”

“No need to doubt darlin,” he pauses, “I’m not sure you even have pull.” He throws out and reaches forward to pluck his shades off the top of your head to place them on their rightful place, the top of his head.

“No pull?” You huff as you sit up to glare at him. “You aren’t the only only one with pull Seresin.” You roll your eyes as you reach out, to deliver a swat to his chest. “You’ll see, I’ll have muscled flyboy on my arm soon enough.”

You hand connects with hard muscle, and just as you are about to retract your arm, his hand is on yours, a warm palm engulfing your four fingers in a lazy hold.

“Muscled flyboy?”

“Tanned, nice body, flies a plane, you know. We are in Fightertown USA after all.” You let your hand, which is still against his chest, engulfed in his grip, sag. “You know, one of you, but not you.”

It is his turn to let his mouth drop open, fake gasp not dissimilar to yours earlier, falling from his lips.

“An imitation me? How dare you settle for less.”

His reaction makes you laugh, the sound which makes him smile. You attempt to pull your hand out of your his grip, only to be met with resistance as he holds it steady against his chest.

“What would the alternative be Jakey?” You play on his dreaded childhood nickname, one that only his mother used, emphasising the word as the name as it rolls of your tongue. It makes him groan, his nose wrinkling up in distaste. “You?” You ask jokingly, as your eyes narrow in effort as you continue to attempt to tug your hand out of his.

He lifts your hand off his chest, his grip fully wrapping around your fingers as he tugs both your hands sideways. It makes you lurch forward in surprise, your body stumbling forward from the sudden force, body crashing into his. He releases your hand, his hands steadying you by the waist as you stretch your hands out to find balance - one landing on shoulder, the other on his chest.

“What’s wrong with me?” He breathes out, his voice quiet. You take in his features, his hair, eyes, nose, lips, your face inches from him as your breath catches in your throat at the proximity.

“You’re - you’re..” you stammer, your voice barely a murmur as his body, hard and muscled beneath your hands, becomes painfully obvious, his hands on your waist, feeling as if they could burn through your top.

“You’re an asshole.” You manage to wrangle out, voice suddenly loud as you tear yourself away from him, using his body as leverage to push yourself off, twisting out of his grasp. He lets his hands fall away as you stumble to a straightened position, your face burning from the interaction.

“And that,” he winks, “is pull, both literally and figuratively.”

It makes you curse as you flip him off, before quickly spinning on your heel. You dart over to grab one of your suitcases before wheeling it down the short hallway towards the rooms, determined to find yours. His laughter rings out after you and you glorify it with a shout back of “asshole”, but you don’t fail to note, funnily enough, your heart pounding hard in your chest against your ribs.

“What if they all hate me.” You trudge towards The Hard Deck, your sandals crunching over a mixture of gravel and sand.

“They won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then we’ll ditch them. Boring bunch anyway.” He says dismissively, as he waves a hand in the air.

It makes you chuckle, because if the loud shouts and music coming from the bar a distance away was anything to go buy, boring was something you were sure they were most definitely not.

“Can’t have you ditching the friends you just mended fences with now can we.” You muse, clearly aware that the uranium mission had repaired and made Jake’s relationship with the group of pilots in the bar. It wasn’t hard for you to understand why he hadn’t been the most well liked by the group - Jake had a tendency to be cocky, not the best team player, something he took pride in projecting, but you knew that when push came to shove, when the situation called for it, he would never put himself before the team - something the others had come to realise with the last mission.

“S’alright, why also do you think I brought you along to San Diego?” He slings an arm around your shoulders and it takes all of you not to tense up, the memory from earlier in the day, the proximity of your face to his, and dare you say, the tension, ringing fresh in your mind. His skin is warm against your bare shoulders, the sundress you have on held up by two thin straps.

“I see you wanted me for a stand-in friend.” You hum as he pulls you against him, his laughter now something you can feel with your body against his.

“Got that much right, c’mon stand-in.” He drops his arm from your shoulders as he pulls open the door of The Hard Deck for you, gesturing you in.

As you had predicted, the aviators were most definitely not a boring bunch, and as Jake had predicted, they most certainly did not hate you. You were already informed of their names and call signs, thanks to Jake’s regular updates, and all it had taken was for you to match names and call signs to face, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Robert “Bob” Floyd, Reuben “Payback” Fitch, Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia, Javy “Coyote” Machado, Natasha “Pheonix” Trace, and Pete “Maverick” Mitchell.

They had welcomed you into the fold as one of their own easily, and even more so after Payback had declared that you were “sweet”, and “didn’t know how you put up with Hangman”. It earned you a round of cheers, and a shot shoved into your hand, which you happily threw down your throat along with the rest of them.

“Oh shut up Bagman.” Phoenix shouts from across the pool table, and it makes you snort with laughter as you echo her words.

“Yeah, Bagman, shut up.” Your echo earns you a hoot from Rooster, and cheers from the rest of the team. You grin, and Jake rolls his eyes, smile on his face.

“Wait till we get in the air Trace. We’ll see who is the one shutting up.” It earns him a boo from Phoenix and you take a swig of beer, shaking your head in amusement. Aviators - they were just like overgrown children when they were together.

“You’re rude Bagman.” You say to Jake as you put your bottle down, the rest of the group’s attention now on Rooster and Fanboy who decided to have an impromptu arm wrestling contest hosted by Maverick, their attention falling off you and Jake who are seated on bar stools, towards the side of the pool table.

“Jake.” He corrects as he looks down at you while casually leaning back against the wall behind him.

“I like Bagman.” You say and you see the small furrow that creases between his brows.

“Jake.” He asserts again and you move to take another swig of beer, only to find your bottle empty.

“You’re so bossy, Bagman.” You slide off your stool into a stand, your intention to retrieve another beer from the bar, when a hand encircles your waist, coming to rest on your front, pulling you into the space between his legs, your back connecting with his front his lips just millimeters away from your ear.

“It’s Jake to you.” His voice rumbles, deep, and you can feel his lips graze your earlobe as he speaks. It raises goosebumps on your flesh immediately and you can’t help the involuntary shudder that runs down your body. The hand that he has pressed against your midsection creates a pressure that goes straight down to your core.

“Jake.” You utter, struggling to keep your voice steady, and he releases you, allowing you to step out from in between his legs.

“Good girl.” He smirks, taking a swig of his own beer, acting as if nothing had happened. You pull on a scowl, to disguise the beating of your heart in your ears, and the thrumming in your core.

“I’m going to get another beer, Jake,” you emphasise his name on purpose, to which he only winks, “want anything?”

“I’m good, still gotta drive you home.”

“Another beer please.”

The bartender, Penny, pops open a bottle before sliding it across the counter to you. You hand over your card, but she shakes her head.

“It’s on the house. Heard from Mav that you’ll be here the whole 6 months?”

“That’s me.” You hum as you offer her a smile of thanks.

“Penny.” She introduces herself, and you return the favour, introducing yourself back to her.

“I also hear you are here with Hangman.” She says, her eyes floating across your head over to Jake, whose gaze, unbeknownst to you, has been trained firmly on you since you walked away from him. “You two got a thing going on?”

Her ask makes the heat rise on your face, the two earlier incidents of the day floating to mind. Jake had always been flirty throughout your friendship, it was just in your character, but this time, something felt different. You shake your head, quickly and furiously, as if to dispel your own thoughts.

“We’re friends,” you assert, half for your own benefit, and half for hers, “been friends since high school.”

“I see.” She takes you in, her gaze kind, as she nods slowly in response. Penny doesn’t comment more, but chooses instead to offer you a warm smile. “Stop by more often will you? I get sick of being around these aviators all the time.”

It earns her a laugh from you, both of you looking to the group you had left as cheers erupt, with Maverick holding up Fanboy’s fist in the air.

“Well I guess we know who won the arm wrestle.” You mumble, and Penny chuckles, ending with a long suffering sigh.

“I guess we do.”

>> PART 2

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foreverisntenough · 2 months

Text

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestive, smut love bombing, little sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

Chapter 10 - ‘You’re Mine’

You sat on your apartment floor in a pile of your clothes. What the hell do you bring to visit a boy… in another country… for an unspecified amount of time. Lingerie was the first thing in your suitcase but like… what else?

Trent had been kind enough to organize everything for you so you really only had to lock up your apartment, he had gotten everything sorted down to a car picking you up and bringing you to the airport. You had an inkling it was more likely Tyler orchestrating the logistics but Trent was the one relaying the information to you. No matter, it was incredibly thoughtful.

He had booked you a hotel suite down near the Liverpool waterfront because you had mentioned that you had liked staying near there before during previous visits to the city. It was unsaid but assumed you’d more than likely be in Trent’s bed anyways but you didn’t want to pressure him or bother him after a match day and he hadn’t wanted you to presume this was a trip solely to get his dick wet. It also occurred to both of you that Trent lived with his family. It was comforting to him, something he loved, something you actually found endearing, and as much as you got along with his brothers, throwing you into the family home seemed like a big ask.

There were a lot of uncertainties about the trip… the most glaringly obvious, the length. You and Trent both just wanted to be back together so you hadn’t really set a return date. You were off and on your way to England tomorrow. You couldn’t exactly uproot your life for a man you hadn’t known for that long, let alone explain to your family that you suddenly had struck up a whirlwind romance with the Trent Alexander-Arnold but your return to New York was still TBD.

To be honest, your dad might be thrilled at the idea of the potential access to Anfield and return to his home country but you were a daddy’s girl so moving countries might throw him for a loop. Your mom, well.. she’d miss you but you having a boyfriend, no matter the location, would just make her life complete. That was another thing… you were so excited to visit ‘your Trent’ but he wasn’t your boyfriend really so what was this to him? You had told most people who needed to know your whereabouts that you were going to England to visit a friend, you’d be going to Liverpool for a game which you had done before… purposely avoiding the details though that seeing a player was the sole reason you were being flown out. You wanted to keep it hush until it was official with him or god forbid… if it were to all fizzle out. Your head was spinning when your best friend FaceTimed you breaking the trepidation.

“Are you even going to pack clothes?” She joked before even saying hello to you.

“Rude…. I am, but honestly haven’t got a clue what yet… I want to look good but not try too hard. I wanna be hot for him but I’ll also be with his family so the lines are a little blurry.” You began to rant, panicking. You initially had asked Trent what to pack but his response was zero help.

“You look amazing in anything… but I also want you in nothing.. so” he joked, providing no assistance during a recent phone call.

Despite everything being done for you, the trip was still a little overwhelming. The plan was to fly into Manchester, Trent insisting that Tyler pick you up because he wasn’t able to get you himself because his match was that day. Tyler would drive you to your hotel, check you in, let you settle in and then he and Marcel would grab you a bit later on to head to the stadium for the game so you could see Trent. After that…not a clue what was in store but you could only imagine it would involve little to no clothing… heavily depending on if you were able to manage to stay awake after the long day.

It all sounded so seamless but after a 7 hour flight, the idea of going to a packed season opener at Anfield and attempting to look presentable after not seeing your man for over a month was stressing you out. Trent didn’t really think that this was, rather the reunion would be exciting, fun, and romantic.

“Okay, okay… I’m thinking you have to go with basics right? Like heels, boots, a sneaker, jeans, white tee, and then obviously have to bring all the gifts and shit he’s sent you..” your best friend was trying to be practical and she was right. Just simple, like your first date, hot but comfortable.

“Yeah, okay, smart. Weather is kind of weird there… like if I need a jacket… I need to think a little more. Maybe I’ll shop when I’m there when he’s busy like at training…”

“You shop? Let him shop! He’s clearly not opposed to buying you things! Also… you’re going to the north of England not a deserted island. I hope you shop when you’re there.”

“I’m not letting him do that… he’s gotta chill with the..” you stopped your own sentence “oh my god! There’s a Selfridges in Manchester… wow I totally forgot. Ugh I can’t wait for that.” You were drooling at the idea of bringing those yellow shopping bags home, forgetting the current task at hand.

“Wow, yeah… I miss that place.” Your friend also getting lost for a second.

“Fuck! Focus Y/N.” You said aloud to yourself. “I need to pack now. I’m hanging up. You’re not as helpful as I needed you to be!” You poked fun sarcastically at your friend who had actually been helpful.

“Love you! Let me know when you you take off, land, fuck him, you know the important things” she cooed cheekily.

You managed to finish packing. An incredibly heavy full suitcase that barely zipped closed and a burgundy Goyard Saint Louis tote bag stuffed full of flight essentials; passport, charger, headphones, just the usual.

You hadn’t realized until you were in line for security rereading your ticket but you were pleased when you realized you were in first class and you had access to a lounge. You texted Trent an update as if he hadn’t planned your entire itinerary for the next 24 hours.

“Text me before you take off, baby 😘” he responded.

“I will 😘 going to see you so sooon… absolutely insane”

“Getting impatient” he texted, always managing to make you smile, make you feel wanted. So you boarded the plane, tucked into your seat with a smile and a warm feeling in your chest. You picked a movie, popped in your headphones and prayed for a safe flight and the ability to get some rest during it.

While you were in transit, Trent was busy with pre-match preparations and also ultimately getting ready for your arrival. He was so excited he couldn’t sit still, pacing around his house. He hadn’t really shut up about you over the past few weeks, more often than not talking to his mum, knowing she could keep a secret. He didn’t want to over share with his friends, teammates and brothers because he was well aware how whipped he was for you and they would no doubt give him shit. That said, he didn’t exactly hide his obsession all that well.

“I’m sorry I can’t make it to the match tonight, sweetheart” Dianne sincerely apologized to Trent standing in the kitchen that morning. She had a prior commitment she couldn’t get out of unfortunately. It didn’t really bother Trent, she had seen more minutes of him on the pitch than anyone but it also meant that it would postponing your meeting.

“Mum, really it’s fine… besides I’m getting a little nervous about who's all in the box tonight.” He said anxiously.

“You shouldn’t be nervous… you invited her and she wanted to come.” Dianne knew he was referring to you being in the box.

“I know I never say this….” Trent sighed leaning his forehead against the refrigerator door. “What if I play bad and she gets like the ick.”

“The ick?” Dianne perplexed by the term.

“Yeah, like the ick…” Trent poorly and inadvertently didn’t explain so Dianne moved on.

“Trenty, it’s just another normal night.” She tried to reassure him like he was still her little boy.

“She is flying to another country… for me.” Trent said initially with some fear but his own words actually had instilled some confidence in him. You were flying to see him. You didn’t have to do this, you wanted to.

Trent had to leave to meet with the team, start the whole process of match day so he gathered all his things, said goodbye to his mum, and made his way to the driveway. He stopped in his tracks half way to his car trying to remember if he had made his bed, hoping that tonight he could convince you to come sleep with him instead of your hotel. The thought of you back in his arms had him eager for the final whistle before kick off even happened.

You woke up with about a half an hour left in your flight. By the time you gathered yourself you had landed in Manchester. You were going to text Trent but you didn’t want to bother him as it was getting closer to game time so you opted to text Tyler letting him know you had arrived. Customs wasn’t too long but you needed a few extra minutes in the bathroom to reapply some tinted moisturizer, fix your hair, spray some perfume, it was fine for now but you couldn’t wait to shower at the hotel.

“In arrival pickup, I'm refusing to hold a sign like Trent wanted so just look for my car…black Mercedes.” Tyler texted. It made you laugh, he clearly was just being a nice brother doing Trent a favor. He downplayed his car exponentially, it was a massive Mercedes G-Wagon, not exactly subtle, it was matte black with completely tinted windows. You easily spotted it and rolled your suitcase down the pavement. Tyler got out of the car, calling your name lowly. You greeted him warmly with a sweet ‘hi’ and a big hug.

“You okay? Flight was fine?” He questioned genuinely, taking your suitcase and putting it in the boot of his car.

“Yeah, yeah all good. Airports are just so stressful so thank you for handling everything. Obviously wasn’t T.” You teased and Tyler shrugged knowing that was incredibly accurate.

You opened the car door to find a little box wrapped neatly with a bow on the front seat. You picked it up to try to hand it to Tyler like it was his.

“Obviously, it’s for you. He wasn’t going to let you arrive without getting you something… be real for a minute.”

You giggled knowing it was true. Gifts were one of Trent’s love languages for sure. You shuffled around in the seat a little awkwardly at first fumbling with the box before putting it in your bag.

“Everything good?” Tyler asked, noticing as he started to pull out of the lane.

“Sorry, just haven’t driven over here in a minute, was confused for a second.” You giggled more readjusting to the roads.

“I don’t have anything comforting to say, just the way it is, the way it should be.” He teased you.

“Sure.. whatever you say.” You poked back rolling your eyes. Being American made for easy jokes.

“I told him I got you, he won’t be on his phone today really so if you don’t hear from Trent before don’t take it personally.” Tyler spoke unprompted.

“Oh… yeah? Thanks. I didn’t want to bother him. Don’t really know anything about match day protocol I guess…. I usually am a few pints in by this point.” He laughed at your honesty.

“We'll get you a drink eventually. But after… usually best bet is to let him come to us depending on the result. I know he’s embarrassingly excited to see you though so I’ll get you to him.” He said openly not taking his eyes off the road.

You arrived at the hotel and Tyler offered to help you check in but you assured him you could manage, he already had done a lot and had to come back for you in a little so you felt a little guilty taking up more of his time. He left once you gestured to him through the window you had successfully got your room key.

You got to your room and immediately collapsed on the bed not long before springing back up and practically ripping off your clothes thinking about getting airplane germs on the fresh bed. You swiftly made it to the shower immediately.

You wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel sat on the edge of the bed, trying to remember what you had planned to wear to the match tonight. You looked at your open suitcase, beauty products now covering the counter tops, the sweatshirt you wore on the plane spilling out of your Goyard when you spotted the little box Trent had left for you peaking out.

“Oh shit” you exclaimed out loud in the empty room recalling you hadn’t opened it yet. You pulled at the ribbon, unraveling the knot opening the lid to reveal a small velvet jewelry box. You popped it open to see a gold band, it was a classic ring but it had a raised block font with the letters ‘TAA’ pressed onto it. You liked how personal it was, you liked that he wanted you to wear his initials. There was a little card with his scribbled handwriting, nothing too grandiose, just simple.

‘Your TAA xx’

You slid the ring on and you felt like your heart could burst. Getting a ring from Trent caused your mind to fantasize at what other sort of ring he could eventually buy you. Calling himself yours made you smile uncontrollably too. You threw on a tank top and shorts to lay in bed for a moment telling people back home you arrived safely in England when your screen flashed with an incoming FaceTime.

“Guess where I ammmmm” you answered while sitting up a little in the bed. Your arm wrapped tightly around your chest in excitement seeing the gorgeous boys face grace the screen. Overjoyed considering Tyler’s warning you may not hear from him.

“Baby, I cannot believe you are so close right now.” Trent said beaming.

“Weird right?!” You giggled.

“You promise you’re actually coming tonight, you and Ty aren’t just messing with me?” He sounded more serious than he needed to be. You flipped your camera to face away from you showing him your dainty hand now fitted with the ring with his initials, the Liverpool waterfront visible from the window behind your fingers. Confirmation you were definitely here before turning the camera back to you.

“Promise, pretty boy!” You cooed “Cannot wait to see you tonight.”

“You cannot wait to kiss me.” He corrected you, his eyes dropping a little lower to your chest now.

“Mmm” You hummed to get his attention knowing that your tits were on display. “Don’t you have to focus, dial in?”

“I’m focused… trust me.” Trent said lustfully before snapping out of his gaze.

“I do actually have to run but just needed to make sure you got here safely.” He rambled.

“All safe” you smiled.

“If there’s a lot of stoppage time tonight, I’m going to be pissed. Need to see my baby.” He groaned

“See you tonighttt, my T” you practically sang your smile getting bigger at the thought before hanging up. You pulled yourself out of bed knowing that Tyler and Marcel would be coming to pick you up sooner than later and you had to get ready.

You went for light makeup, your hair in a middle part and down, natural. You slipped on some promiscuous lingerie inspecting how you looked in the mirror. Once you confirmed this looked like the right set for your first night back together you put on Trent’s jersey. The warm feeling returned in your chest. You were a fan before you’d ever met him but knowing this was his, from him, it just felt different and you couldn’t suppress the butterflies filling your stomach. You pulled it tucking it up into the band of your bra, a hack you did to crop the shirt showcasing your stomach.

You chose a pair of fitted leather pants, you knew your ass looked good in them. After a long internal debate you landed on a Barbour jacket, it seemed the most weather appropriate. Frankly, your shoe choice was impractical, committing your look so you went with a pair of tan suede pointed toed heeled boots. And of course, it would only be right to bring the Chanel bag Trent had got for you. You weren’t monogamous to silver or gold so you wore both metals dripping in a ton of jewelry. Grabbing your phone from the charger you double checked you had everything and stood in the mirror analyzing every aspect of your outfit but was interrupted by the unknown UK number calling your phone. You usually wouldn’t but you answered assuming, not surprised to hear a familiar scouse accent giving you shit for running behind.

“I’m sorry!! I’m coming right now” you sincerely apologized to Marcel on the other end of the phone rushing. You walked through the lobby adjusting your outfit when the lady who checked you in earlier friendly questioned you.

“Headed out to the game tonight hun?” She asked spotting you adjust the team jersey.

“Yep!” You said sweetly with a smile but trying to hurry along as to not hold up the boys any longer.

“They are a handsome lot, maybe you’ll find yourself a player to bring back.” She said quite cheekily but it was meant with good lighthearted intentions.

“Maybe…” you said smugly, slyly, little did she know your reality.

You jumped into the familiar big Mercedes back seat you were in mere hours ago.

“You’re aware it’s a footie match?” Marcel made fun of your over the top outfit. It really wasn’t, frankly, they just were in far more casual clothes.

“Yes, I do and your opinion is not important to me. I like my outfit. Thank you very much!” You quipped teasing back.

You were thankful you’d been to Anfield before because it was actually quite overwhelming arriving. You had entered in sectioned off areas but even so the two brothers weren’t exactly walking around going unnoticed at the stadium. You could feel people staring. It was loud, bustling, and being thrust into the close circle of families and friends of players had you feeling out of place. You had made your way into a box nestled high in the stadium. It actually vibrated from the fan curated atmosphere. Opposite of you, the boys were so relaxed, they looked to be completely at home, before offering you a pint as promised. Haphazardly they showed you around the suite, the seats, where things were gradually. The noise outside only grew when the team made their way onto the pitch to warm up.

Even though he was younger than you Marcel felt like he needed to keep an eye on you. He could sense your nerves so he put his hand on your shoulder gently and guided you out of the box into the open air seats overlooking the field.

“He’s number 66.” He said facetiously pointing obviously down at Trent. Your heart nearly stopped seeing him. He was actually focused on football now opposed to your tits on FaceTime earlier, striking the ball with ease, laughing a little.

He looked so beautiful. Under the floodlights, his skin was just glowing. He had aura… god, he just radiated a coolness. He was so subtly confident, so sexy. Your finger stroked over the raised letters of your new ring settling your rapid breath. You couldn’t peel your eyes away, it had been so long since you’ve seen him in the flesh and there he was but he was still so so far away.

In a moment, the crazed environment completely faded away when Trent lifted his head, inspecting the stands, combing through faces in the box till he landed on yours. That smile. Oh my god, that smile on his face had you completely falling apart inside. He sent a quick wink your way, still attempting to keep his concentration on the game. Although small, his acknowledgement calmed you feeling more comfortable, finally taking off your jacket, admittedly slightly shyly considering you were sitting with boys who shared the last name on your back.

“Uhhohh we got a fan” Tyler jeered.

“Ugh T, you’re so sexy. Please let me be a WAG” Marcel moaned in a terrible, but equally funny, American accent impersonating you.

“I hate you both” you said with no real conviction, your eyes refusing to break from watching Trent stretch, it was hot.. you couldn’t deny it.

You had relaxed, meeting a few people, drinking and laughing with his brothers, you were having fun. The starting eleven took their positions before kick off. Trent had made his way to the back right of the pitch that was closer to where you all were sat. There was a pause, a hum of anticipation for the match to begin but in the lull Trent turned to look for you once more. He found you much faster this time, pressing his hand to his lips, blowing you a kiss pointing up to you directly. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried. It was bold, it was public, it was just for you. You were lost in the moment, looking longingly into the big brown eyes that felt miles away. You pushed your lips, pressing a kiss into the crisp air towards him. He smiled before putting his head back down to regain focus.

His brothers looked completely shocked at the interaction. Marcel’s hand gripped Tyler’s leg. They knew you two were into each other, it seemed to be serious, but never… never had they seen Trent break professionalism and do something so affectionate, not only in public, but on a massive stage. This game was at a fully packed stadium, broadcasted, spectated internationally and he without a single second of doubt was blowing a kiss to you.

The ref blew the whistle signaling the start of the match but also the start of something much more.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! DW smut will return! Let me know what you think!!!!!

Next part - Chapter 11

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagines #you’re mine fic

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jpmarvel90 · 9 months

Text

Coming Home - Part 2

Masterlist Scarlett Masterlist

Part 1

Relationship: Scarlett x ex Reader

Summary: Part two to Coming home

Word Count: 3414

Scarlett’s POV:

A month after we received news about Y/n, a funeral was held for her. I buried an empty coffin in the military graveyard and heard people talk about her heroic actions which ultimately led to her death. Her body wasn’t found. When they returned to a few days later they just found a pool of dried blood. It was believed that the Taliban had taken her body. As no ransom or demands had come through, the Military had declared her as killed in action.

The months following were difficult. I returned to work, but it felt like I was just working through the motions. It was like I had lost ever desire to live my life to the fullest. Y/n was always on my mind, and I was constantly reminded that I lost her long before she died and that I had no one to blame but myself.

We had recently started filming Age of Ultron and we had new cast members and I found it so hard to build any relationship with them. I was isolating myself and I didn’t need anyone. After a long day of filming, I was in my trailer, looking at photos of Y/n and I from when we were growing up. A knock at my door pulled me out of my thoughts and I shuffled towards the door to find Lizzie Olsen stood smiling at me.

Her smile suddenly drops as she looks at me. “Oh God, Scarlett, are you crying? Is everything ok?” She asked concerned. I hadn’t even realised that tears had been falling. I was so used to that feeling now. I quickly wiped them away and assured her that I was ok. “Look Scarlett, I know that we’re not exactly close, but I’m here if you ever need to talk. I know that you’ve gone through a loss, and I want to be there to help you.” She said with such warmth.

I smiled and moved to the side so she could join me. I spent the evening telling her all about Y/n and how I had left her like I did and then seeing her again before she died. It felt really good to talk through everything. I hadn’t realised that it had all been bottled up and talking about it had actually helped. Lizzie was really understanding and caring. She sat and let me bore her with photos and stories of Y/n. I actually felt bad for not making more of an effort when she first joined.

Over the next few weeks, I found myself healing gradually as I learnt to talk through my feelings. I still felt this unbearable pain, but I was able to carry on with my life. Lizzie had become a really close friend and I was extremely grateful for all her support. If she hadn’t come to my door that night, I know I would have fallen even further into my depression.

Since the funeral, I had avoided going back to New York as much as I could. But I knew I should go back and see both my parent’s as well as Y/n’s. Lizzie had decided to come with me for support. But I had to make the trip to Y/n’s parents on my own. I was stood on their doorstep and was hesitant to knock. I eventually found the courage to do so and was greeted by Henry.

He looked older and tired. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose a daughter. When he saw me, he smiled and pulled me into a big hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” I said ashamed. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters. Please come in.” He said, guiding me into the living room. I greeted Mary and we spent some time catching up over a cup of coffee.

“I’m glad you came. We actually have something to give you.” Henry explained as he got up and left the room. I looked at Mary with a confused look. Once Henry rejoined us, he sat in front of me. “After the funeral, we were given Y/n’s belongings by the Army. At first, we weren’t able to bring ourselves to go through it. The pain was too much. But we finally had the courage to do so this weekend and within the belongings was this. We were going to send it on to you, but I’m glad you’re here to we can give it to you in person.” He explained as he passed me an envelope.

It was addressed to me. I ran my fingers over the familiar handwriting writing on the front. Tears prickling in my eyes. “She was due to send it the day she was killed.” He explained and I nodded as the tears dropped onto my lap. I placed it into my bag, wanting to read it when I got home.

I spent a bit more time with the Y/l/ns and made the short journey back to my house. I was greeted by Lizzie who was cooking dinner. “Oh, you’re back. How did it go?” She asked. I showed her the unopened letter. “This was in her belongings. She was going to send it the day she died.” I said, trying to stifle a cry. Lizzie pulled me into a hug and rubbed her hand up and down my back. “I’ll give you some space.” She said, returning to the kitchen.

I made my way into my bedroom and pulled the blanket up over me as I just stared at the letter. I had no idea what would be in here. What if it was her telling me to stop writing to her or saying that she didn’t want me in her life. The few letters she had sent to me whilst she was away, were very short. I had the fight in my head over whether to open it or not, but eventually decided I had to read it for my own closure. My hands were shaking as I opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

My dear Scarlett,

I have re-written this letter so many times. I’ve never been very good at putting my feelings out there. But I feel compelled to do so. So, this is me trying to share the thoughts in my head. When I first started to receive your letters, I’ll admit that I didn’t read them at first. I felt like there was nothing you could say that I would want to hear. But over time, you were starting to take up more and more of my thoughts.

When I finally started to read them, I felt my heart break all over again. It reminded me of the woman I had fallen in love with as a teenager. The kind hearted and caring person I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. I relieved the pain of slowly losing you when you moved to LA. That’s why I didn’t respond for a while and the letters you did get were lacking.

I found that I started to look forward to your letters. Hearing you talking about our memories and the reasons that we fell in love, reminded me of the happy times and I was finally starting to feel the pain be replaced with the love I had once felt for you. And let’s be honest. I don’t think I ever stopped loving you. I just buried it deep down to protect myself.

With each letter I believe more and more that you do still love and care for me and that you truthfully want to give this another try. When I come home, I think we need to talk properly. Because if there is any chance that I can get back the relationship we once had, before it all went to shit, I want to grab it with both hands and never let go.

So, if you’ll have me, I want us to try again. I want to get to know you again and go on dates and feel the effect of falling in love with you all over again. Because the feelings of love that I have for you are like a drug and I can’t live without it.

I love you Scarlett. Always have, always will.

Yours always,

Y/n

As I read the letter, I couldn’t help the cries that left my mouth. It was pure agony to see her feelings written in front of me. She wanted to try again, she still loved me. But life cruelly took away the opportunity for us to be reunited to start again. It was like reliving her death all over again and I couldn’t stand the pain. I felt a pair of arms around me as Lizzie held me and quietly hushed me, rocking me gently.

When I finally started to calm down, I handed her the letter and watched as her own eyes filled with tears as she read Y/n’s admission. “Scar, I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. I know that right now nothing probably will make you feel better. But you have spent the last few months believe that she had died angry and hurt with you. Instead, she died loving you, knowing that you loved her. Please try and take some solace in that.” She spoke so softly but she was right.

I can live my life knowing that I had her. She was mine and I was hers, even if we didn’t get the chance to reunite in person. We both knew our feelings and that’s what mattered. Lizzie just held me that evening whilst I would go through my phases of crying and re-reading the letter.

We stayed in New York for a few more days and I spent more time with Y/n’s parents which was nice. I felt close to her. I was currently packing up ready for our flight back to LA this evening. My phone had been ringing but I had ignored it as I wanted to focus on getting everything ready to leave. I didn’t want any distractions right now. Just as I had closed up my bag and was carrying down the stairs, there was loud banging on the front door.

Lizzie came out of the living room to see what the noise was. I quickly went to the door and opened it to see my mom stood there out of breath. “Don’t you answer you damn phone now?” She asked frustrated. “I was packing, what’s wrong?” I asked confused. “I can’t believe I’m actually saying this. But they found Y/n. Alive.” I was frozen to the spot at her words. My mom just stood there staring at me. She’s alive!

Lizzie’s hand on my shoulder pulled me from my trance. “How? Is she ok?!” I asked frantically, needing to know more. “They found her when they attacked an enemy compound. They had found her injured and taken her hostage. She’s in pretty bad shape but she’s back here in the US. She’s in a hospital in Georgia.” She explained and I could feel my mind racing at a hundred miles an hour.

“Maybe we should change our flights to Georgia.” Lizzie said with a smile. I nodded and was quickly on my phone with my manager to arrange flights. We managed to get on a flight 3 hours later and the whole journey from New York my mind wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know what was waiting for us when we got there. Y/n’s parents were already in Georgia and had text me with the hospital and room number.

I was glad to have Lizzie with me again. I don’t think I could have done this on my own. This must be pretty weird for her, rushing across the country to the side of a woman she’s never met. When we finally arrived at the hospital, I found myself frozen in the car we had hired. “I don’t think I can go in.” I whispered. Lizzie leant over and took my hand in hers. “But Y/n is in there. Don’t you want to see her?” She asked confused.

I did more than anything want to see her but I was terrified. “What if she’s so badly hurt that she’s going to die again. I can’t lose her again.” I said, starting to cry. God I was sick of crying! Lizzie hugged me and let me calm down. “The woman that you love is in that hospital. The woman you thought was dead. You’ve been given a second chance to at least see her. Don’t miss out on this opportunity or you’re going to regret it more than leaving her 6 years ago.” Lizzie spoke wisely and I nodded in agreement.

I grabbed a hold of Lizzie’s hand as we made our way through the hospital. We eventually made it to the ward Y/n was on and we were stood outside of her hospital room. I turned to Lizzie and smiled, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

I couldn’t believe the sight that greeted me. Y/n was awake in bed, with her parents either side. I was completely speechless. Y/n turned to look at me with the biggest smile on her face and it made my heart soar. He eyes flicked down to my hand which was holding Lizzie’s and he face instantly dropped and she turned to look back to her mom. I quickly dropped Lizzie’s hand and tentatively made my way towards her bed.

“Y-You’re alive.” I breathed out, tears falling whilst I had a huge smile on my face. Y/n just nodded. Her expression felt cold, she couldn’t even hold eye contact with me. “I think I’ll go and grab some drinks. Can I get you any Mr and Mrs Y/l/n?” Lizzie asked, breaking the awkward silence. “You know what, I think we’ll come with you Lizzie.” Mary responded. “Do you want anything sweetheart?” She asked Y/n who just shook her head. Mary placed a kiss on her forehead, and it was soon just the two of us.

I reached out and took her hand in mine and placed a kiss on it. “I can’t believe you’re here. This last 6 months has been horrible without you. Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through.” I said but she didn’t respond. “Can you say something?” I almost pleaded. She cleared her throat, and I could tell she was trying to not cry. “She’s very pretty. I’m happy for you.” She forced out. “Do you mean Lizzie?” I asked confused. “Ah so that’s her name.” She replied. “Scar and Lizzie, has a nice ring to it.” She muttered.

It then hit me. “Wait, no we’re not together. She’s just my friend, she’s been supporting me through all of this. You’re the only person I want to be with.” I rushed out, not wanting her to think we were together any longer than she already had. “Really?” She asked and her voice broke as she said it. I stood up and leaned over cupping her bruised face in my hands. “I am so madly in love with you. I couldn’t even think of anyone else the same way. The moment I found out you were dead, a part of me died too. When I read your letter last week, my heart ached knowing that we had missed our chance to be together again. But now you’re here in front of me.” I cried and she placed her hands over my own.

“I never stopped loving you Y/n. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, showing how much I love and adore you. I will do anything for you. I’ll even follow you around the world whilst you’re in the Army. I just want to be with you.” I spoke honestly and Y/n let out a chuckle through a sob. “God, I love you too. You are the reason I’m still alive. I knew I had to fight to stay alive so I could see you again. To hold you to kiss you.” At those words, I quickly crashed my lips into hers.

The kiss was passionate and full of every feeling I wanted to convey to her. As I pulled away, her eyes were still shut, and she whispered. “Wow.” I chuckled and rested my forehead against her. “I’m never leaving you again. I will follow you where you are.” I promised and she smiled. “Well, you won’t have to follow me far.” She said and I looked at her confused. “What do you mean?” I asked. “I’m being medically discharged from the army. My leg is busted, and I had to have a kidney removed. I’ll make a full recovery, but not one to be medically fit for the army.” She clarified. I could tell there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.

She had managed to achieve so much in her career and from speaking with her parents she loved her job. There was a selfish part of me that was happy she would be safe. But I hated the thought that she was losing something she loved. “I’m so sorry Y/n. But I’ll still be by your side. Wherever you are.” I placed another soft kiss on her lips and took the seat next to her. “I just don’t know what I’ll do next.” She said and I just smiled that she was thinking about that whilst still in a hospital bed. “Come to LA with me?” I said as more of a question, but I meant it. Her head snapped to look at me. “What?” She asked.

“Come with me. We’re near the end of filming, you can come and live with me, and I can help you with your recovery. But most importantly we can be together, and you’ll have time to work out what you want to do next.” I explained, sure of what I wanted. “To be clear, are you asking me to move in with you?” She said with a smile, and I nodded enthusiastically. “I told you. I’m not letting you go again.” She smirked and replied. “Then yes, I would love to move in with you.” She said and I squealed at her response.

I jumped up and locked our lips once again. I would never get tired of that feeling. She moved over in the bed and tapped next to her to indicate for me to join her. I carefully sat on the bed and held her close to me. We started into each other’s eyes as I rubbed my thumb along her cheek. We gave each other kisses every now and then as we just enjoyed being in each other’s company again. I could believe she was alive and with me again.

“So, you guys have made up then.” I turned around and saw Lizzie and Y/n’s parents stood on the doorway, all with smiles on their faces. “She’s giving me a second chance.” I replied, turning back to Y/n and giving her a peck on her lips. I adjusted so I was still laid with her but able to see the others. “Hi, I’m Lizzie by the way.” She introduced herself to Y/n who held out her hand to shake. “Hi. Y/n. Thank you for look after Scar.” Y/n responded, and Lizzie blushed a little. “She’s my best friend, I’d do anything for her. This feels really weird. I feel like I know you even though I’ve never met you. I’ve heard so many stories.” Lizzie shared and Y/n laughed. “Oh God. That’s not good.” And we all laughed

That evening was amazing, we all just chatted, and I got to lie in Y/n’s arms again. I was home and I couldn’t be happier. I spent the weekend in Georgia, before heading back to LA to prepare for Y/n’s arrival. Lizzie had offered to move in temporarily to help with Y/n and the two of them quickly became great friends.

Once I had finished filming, we spent time traveling whilst I had no commitments until the reshoots and press tour. We got to know each other again and I loved the woman Y/n had become more than I ever had. Even though she still didn’t know what she wanted to do, it didn’t matter right now as we were together and that was all that matter. I had my girl back.

#scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x y/n #scarlett johansson fanfiction #celebrity fanfiction

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rhoorl · 5 months

Text

Are You Alone? | Benny Miller One-Shot

Pairing: Benny Miller x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.4k | AO3 Link

Benny Miller Masterlist

Summary: You take a girls’ trip and Benny misses you.

Warning: Think of this as a combo platter - you get a little fluff, a little angst, and a little smut. Benny Miller comes with his own warning. This is an established relationship and these two like their terms of endearment. There is a brief mention of a parent's illness. Mutual masturbation. Sexting. Body insecurity. There are also some Spanish phrases thrown in. If you have any questions let me know!

Header images are to set a vibe.

A/N: Although this is part of the “Are You On Mute” series (Part 1 and Part 2), this can be read as a standalone. I should be writing other things but Garrett Hedlund posted a bunch of photos on Instagram this week and well…this is what happened.

“Oops, look what you stepped under,” Benny grinned, his arm behind his back so you knew he was up to something.

You furrowed your brows together, “Bun. What are you up to?”

With a swift move, he swung his arm up and over your head suspending a sprig of mistletoe inches above your forehead. This was your first holiday season as a married couple and he was fully in the spirit. He’d gone a bit overboard buying decorations for the house, including an elaborate light display for the outside complete with a synced musical accompaniment.

“You gotta kiss me, sweetheart, it’s the rule,” his eyes trailed up to look at the mistletoe before cocking his head to the side and grinning.

You playfully rolled your eyes and pressed up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss, which of course he deepened immediately. He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

“I have to finish packing,” you said as you reluctantly pulled away from him.

“You sure I can’t come with?” Benny exaggeratedly pushed out his lower lip, his blue eyes working overtime to aid in his pout.

“Baby, c'mon don't do that,” you rested your hands on his chest, playing with the pendant hanging from his silver chain. “We haven't had a girl's weekend in forever. Mom's feeling so good this year and my tias and cousins are coming in too. Besides, you know my sister could use the break from the kids,” you chuckled.

“I'm still going to miss you,” he murmured looking down, running his hands up and down your sides.

“I'll be back before you know it, Bun, and then we can do all the fun Christmas stuff you want. I'm sure you and the guys will figure out something fun to do while we're gone.”

Benny had a whole list of fun events around town and beyond that he wanted to go to with you; he was trying to make up for last year which was a bit of a blur. Between medical appointments for your mom and hospital visits, it wasn’t a festive and fun time. Instead, it was a time filled with stress and worry. Luckily you had your sister, her family, and Benny, of course.

One thing your mom loved to do to pass the time while she was in the hospital was talk about all of the trips she wanted to take. She kept coming back to New York City around the holidays. Seeing the tree at Rockefeller Center, going ice skating, and attending a Broadway show were among some of the things she had long dreamed of doing ever since she was a little girl.

At first, you placated her and listened to her dreams. You didn’t want to promise her anything. Frankly, you didn’t want to give yourself the hope that you’d be able to take the trip with her after all. But as the months passed, she started responding to the treatments and getting stronger. When Benny would come to visit, she’d his ear off about all of the places she wanted to go and how she wanted to be well enough to attend your wedding.

Your wedding day was an emotional day for so many reasons. Seeing your mom well and having fun, smiling, and dancing with your husband made it a memory you know will live on with you for the rest of your life. As if it couldn’t get any better, during the reception, Benny surprised her with the trip of her dreams. He planned the whole thing without you knowing, getting help from Santiago and Frankie’s girlfriend among others.

Now the time had come to go on this amazing trip and he was moping around, following you around the house like a lost puppy.

“I need you to make sure it looks like Christmas threw up in this house by the time I’m back ok?” You stroke his cheek and he presses his face into your hand and kisses your palm.

“Ok boss lady, I got my orders,” he winked.

___________________________

Benny: I haven’t gotten a photo in a while 😞

You smirked at your phone. With the finishing touches of your outfit done, you move to the full-length mirror of your hotel room to try and figure out a pose. You held the phone at different angles, trying to see what would be the most flattering angle.

“Oh my god, do you just want me to take it for you?” Your sister chimed in. You thought she was still getting ready, but instead, she had been silently watching you from the corner of her bed.

“Ugh no, I … I think this one is fine.”

“Oh stop it. You look hot and he’s going to lose his mind.”

You were dressed in a white turtleneck dress, a long brown coat with brown knee-high boots complete with some jewelry Benny had gotten you. Taking a deep breath, you decide to just pick a photo and hit send. Nearly instantly you get a response.

Benny: Ok hot mama! 🥵

Benny: What are you ladies getting up to tonight?

You: Thank you 😘 we’re going to dinner and we’ll see where the night takes us

Benny: Ooo, you girls gettin wild?

You: 🙄 how wild can I get with my mom and tias?

Benny: You really want me to answer that? How drunk were you at our wedding?

You: Fair. Idk, Mari will probably find something for us to do after, it’s our last night so we’ll see

You: What are you boys getting up to?

Benny: Hanging out, the weather is so nice. We have that fire pit Will wants to try so we’ll hang out, watch the game.

Benny: May have some cigars. 😏

You instantly press your thighs together and bite your lip. Ever since one particular guy’s night, cigars bring up a very distinct visual for you.

You: Well, seems like you boys will have fun. I miss you.

Benny: I miss you so much too. I want more pictures of my hot wife tonight 😉

“C’mon, Mari is downstairs and mom just said they’re headed down.” Your sister snapped you out of your bubble and you both rushed to get downstairs.

Dinner was pleasant, you all splurged on an expensive place reasoning that there was a lot to celebrate. As the meal wound down and the wine bottles were drained, everyone started talking about how to keep the party going. Your cousin Mari was tasked with looking up nearby swanky bars and lounges; she had a knack for always finding the trendiest places thanks to her incessant use of TikTok.

“Ooo I found a spot!” She turned her phone to you and your sister, who leaned over you to see the video.

“Fun! Looks like a good spot. Mom! You good with keeping it going?” Your sister called across the table to your mother.

“Claro mija! Vamos!”

__________________

Benny walked into the kitchen. He offered to grab more beers, figuring it would be a good opportunity to sneak away and text in peace.

“You miss her don’t you?” Benny turned around to see his brother-in-law leaning in the doorframe of the kitchen.

Benny nodded, “Yeah. I’m glad they’re having fun. They deserve it.”

“It’s ok to miss her Ben. I miss my wife too,” he smiled, walking over to pat Benny’s shoulder. “It looks amazing in here, she’s going to love it,” he said looking around at all of the decorations Benny has put up with the guys’ help today.

“Thanks, man.”

“C’mon, everyone’s waiting outside.”

Benny grabbed a couple of six-packs from the refrigerator and followed his newest brother outside. They walked up just in time. Santiago was passing out cigars as Frankie fussed with the TV to get the game on. Benny leaned back in his Adirondack chair, resting his head on the back of the chair when an idea popped into his head.

______________________

Your phone buzzed in your clutch but before you could grab it your sister shoves her phone in your face. “Mira! The boys are lookin' good tonight!” She showed the phone off to the group of ladies who all whistled in agreement.

She wasn’t wrong. Your brother-in-law snapped a selfie with Benny and the rest of the boys in the background. Benny threw up an ironic peace sign which made you laugh. But damn, did he look good.

He had on a black T-shirt underneath an open blue and white flannel shirt, the glimmer of his chain visible underneath his shirt. Of course, he wore his trusty baseball cap, backward. It looked like he hadn’t shaved since you left and you bite your lip remembering how it feels when he’s between your legs.

Remembering that you too received a text, you unlock your phone and see a message from Benny.

Benny: You girls having fun?

You: Yea! We made it to this bar that’s been super fun! Mom is having a blast.

You: OMG you know that actor you like from Cliff Beasts? He’s in the booth next to us!

Benny: No shit!

You: Yea! He’s soooo nice. Once he found out we were celebrating mom he bought us a couple of bottles and danced with her too lol

Benny: That all he did?

You: He’s here with his girlfriend who is super sweet by the way.

You: I miss youuuuu

A few minutes late, your phone buzzes again. When you open up your messages, you see a photo of Benny, leaning back in his chair with a cigar in his teeth, his other hand resting on his hat. The smolder he’s giving sends an electric pulse straight to your core. The man is a menace.

“Ay, papi chulo!”

You’d been staring at the photo for so long, that you hadn’t realized that your tias were looking over your shoulder at your phone.

“Mijita, Benny es guapisimo!”

“Lo se. He’s pretty handsome, isn’t he? If you excuse me, chismosas,” you winked and moved to sit on another couch away from prying eyes. Everyone gave you a hard time but you smiled and took the good-natured teasing.

You: You’re lookin’ good babe! 😍 Ugh I miss you so much. I wish you were here.

Benny: I miss you too. I feel like you owe me a photo now too.

You: I sent you one earlier silly.

Benny: Yeah, but I want to see what you look like right now.

You snap a quick silly selfie - duck lips while winking.

Benny: How’d I get so lucky?

You: Babe, the guys are going to give you a hard time if you keep talking with me.

Benny: Nah, they’re too wrapped up in the game to care about what I’m doing.

Benny: I think you should send me another picture…but not of your face 😜

Rolling your eyes, you propped your elbow on the couch holding your head there to think.

“I’m gonna go pee,” you announced to the group, who waved at you in acknowledgment as they went back to laughing and telling stories.

On the walk to the bathroom, you debated what you wanted to do. Before anything, you needed to make sure Benny’s phone wasn’t out in the open.

You: Are you alone? Can anyone see your phone right now?

______________________

Benny sat up straight in his chair upon receiving the latest text. He knew he was a bit bold in his ask, not wanting to take you away from your time with your family, but he also wanted to be a bit greedy.

He cleared his throat, “Anyone need a refill? I’m gonna go inside.” He didn’t wait to hear anyone’s response, already making his way back inside, missing the smirks his brother-in-law and Will were exchanging as he walked away.

Benny: I’m back inside, grabbing another beer.

The little chat bubbles started and stopped, the anticipation of what he was about to receive building.

______________________

Luckily, the bathroom stalls were rather spacious but you still weren’t sure what the hell you were about to do. You wanted to tease Benny a bit, so you decided to lift your dress so that he could see the bra and underwear set you had on - one of his favorites.

You snapped a few photos, dropping your dress back down as you quickly reviewed them. You debated what to say, writing and deleting a series of what you hoped were flirty one-liners. In the end, you decided to let the photo talk for itself.

______________________

“Fuck me,” Benny exhaled as his eyes go wide at the sight on his phone screen. He quickly saved it and then promptly zoomed in to inspect things further. He got a bit of a thrill knowing that you’d left your group to send this photo to him. It also doesn’t go unnoticed that you’re wearing one of his favorite sets underneath your dress.

You: Was that ok?

“Dammit, Ben,” he chastised himself. He had been staring at the photo for so long, he forgot to respond. He knew you’d probably been agonizing over sending this in the first place, wondering how it was going to be received. Looking out the window onto the backyard, he sees the guys engrossed in conversation, so he figured he wouldn’t be missed if he was gone just a bit longer. He ran down the hallway to his room, closing the door behind him and double-checking that it was locked.

______________________

The time waiting for Benny’s response was spent agonizing over every imperfection in your photo, wondering if he was noticing the stretch marks or the puffiness of your lower stomach.

You held your breath as you saw a notification pop up that you had a message. Opening it up, you felt your cheeks get warm looking at what Benny sent you. He’d gone back to his room, you recognized the comforter he was lying on, the one you picked out.

Benny: See what you did?

Along with the text was a photo of him from the waist down. Your mouth watered, seeing that he clearly was excited and very much turned on by what you sent. Before you’re able to think of something to send back you get another message, this time a video.

Your mouth was agape as you watched what Benny sent you. He had already unbuckled his belt and undone his jeans. When the video started, he was stroking up and down on his cock. You watched it all the way through and then played it again, bringing the phone up to your ear to see if he’d added any audio. And boy was there audio. He was telling you how beautiful you looked, how much he liked this little naughty side of you, and how much he wished he was there to take you into a bathroom himself and have his way with you.

You: Babe! This is hot…

Benny: Yeah?

Benny: You still alone?

You: Yeah…

Benny: Then show me how hot it got you

You bit your bottom lip, the slick pooling in between your legs. You needed to get some relief, so you leaned against the stall door and reached down into your underwear. Collecting the wetness, you thread your fingers up your folds to your clit, teasing it and wishing it was Benny’s fingers instead of yours. It wasn’t the best angle, but you took a quick photo to send him as you kept going. The next thing you knew, your phone vibrated in your hand. Benny was calling you.

You cleared your throat as you slid the talk button to answer, “Mhmm, yeah?”

He lets out a low grunt, “Fuck baby, you’re really getting yourself off in the bathroom stall aren’t you?”

“C-can’t help it, B, you…fuck…that video was so hot.”

“You thinking of me while you’re touching yourself?”

“Mmmhmm.” You shuddered a bit as you heard his low chuckle.

“I’m thinking of you too baby. Wishing I had you here with me.”

Despite the music bumping outside in the bar the bathroom was rather quiet so you were trying to stifle your moans to not alert any of the other patrons.

“Me too,” you whispered as you heard a group bust into the bathroom, cracking up and gossiping about who knows what. You figured Benny could hear the ruckus on the other side of the door.

“Guess we have company don’t we?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Ok, I know you can’t talk babe, don’t worry. Is it ok if I keep going?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Ok, and I need you to keep your fingers going too.” He let out a shaky breath, the breath you knew so well, which meant he was getting closer. “I’m so happy you took the day off tomorrow, we’re going to need to make up for some lost time.”

You let out a whimper, already anticipating what was in store for you. He continued to go into detail about the different ways he was going to take you apart and what he wanted you to do to him. Hearing him be so descriptive was new and unexpected. It didn’t take long before you heard his release on the other side of the phone. It was enough to push you over the edge as you bit your hand to stifle a moan.

Your legs felt like jelly and you were panting. It took a few moments for you to gather yourself and put the phone back to your ear. “Bun? You there?”

He took a deep breath, “Yeah. I’m here baby. Sorry, I kinda blacked out for a second,” he laughed. “Fuck, that was so hot.”

You giggled, “Yeah it was. Hey, I…uh…I should probably get back. And you too. I’ll text you when I get back to the room ok?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Have a good rest of your night. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

____________________________

Benny quickly cleaned himself up and threw his pants back on, rushing to return to the group outside. Before he went to open the patio door, he remembered the reason for his trip inside in the first place. He ran over to the refrigerator, grabbed a couple of cans of beer, and made his way back outside.

Santiago was the first to address him. “Jesus, Ben. I thought you left and went to the ABC store.”

“Nah, he was inside talking to his girl,” Will nodded with a smirk.

“Ohhhh. Well, you do look more relaxed Ben, good for you,” Santiago winked. “Looks like you missed a spot,” he pointed down to Benny’s T-shirt and the white spot near the bottom.

“Fuck,” Benny tried to wipe it away as the guys laughed.

“Just please tell me you went to your room, right?” Will asked as Santiago cracked up even more.

“Hey, hey, hey. You two are ones to talk,” Frankie chimed in, coming to Benny’s defense. Santiago scoffed and was about to reply before Frankie cut him off, “I know, me too. We’ve all had some uh…fun…with technology,” he smirked.

“I guess, I should make plans to stay over at Miranda’s tomorrow then, huh? Ow!” Will dodged an empty beer can that Benny playfully tossed at him.

________________________

You cleaned yourself up and weaved back through the crowd to get back to your booth. One of your cousins was regaling the group in a story so you thought you were able to slink back unnoticed. But your sister watched you like a hawk, a sly smile on her face. You rolled your eyes as she grabbed her drink and plopped down next to you.

“Sooo…feeling more relaxed?” She knocked your forearm with her elbow.

“How’d you know?”

“Bitch, seriously?! You were so,” you shushed her so she whispered the rest, “you were so fucking obvious. Pressing your thighs together. Takes one to know one sis,” she winked. “You forget that I was in a long-distance relationship for like a year. We had to get…creative.”

You brought your hands to your ears, “Ew stop, I don’t want to think of you two having phone sex!”

“Who had phone sex?” Mari perked up, which drew the attention of the group.

You wanted to sink into the couch and disappear as everyone’s eyes turned to you. “My mom is here Mari, what the fuck!”

“Oh stop it, mija! You’re a big girl. Besides, I want some grandkids!”

Everyone whooped and giggled as you buried your head in your hands, laughing at the ridiculousness of this whole situation.

#benny miller x reader #benny miller smut #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x female reader #triple frontier fanfic #husband!benny miller x wife!reader

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seoul-bros · 10 months

Text

Six marvelous months with Park Jimin

January 2023

The year started with the announcement that Jimin had been appointed as the Global Brand Ambassador for Christian Dior (17/01). The occasion was marked with six Awesome magazine covers and the Dior Fashion Show in Paris (20/01). The fashion establishment was blown away by the response to Jimin's participation in the show.

The same month Jimin released Vibe (13/01) , a dream collaboration with his long time musical hero Taeyang from Big Bang.

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This was both artists first solo hit on the Billboard Hot 100 at No. 76.

February 2023

Jimin did a live on 03/02 in which he confirmed that his solo music, although a little delayed, was likely to come out in March 2023.

On 21/02, Big Hit announced that FACE would be released on 24/03/23. The next day they published the countdown schedule and on the 23/02 the tracklist for the album.

March 2023

On 02/03, Jimin was named Ambassador for Tiffany & Co which he wore spectacularly in his photoshoot for Vogue that month.

On 06/03, Soundcloud super track Promise along with Jimin's yuletide gift to ARMY, Christmas Love were added to Jimin's Spotify profile. The era of streaming Jimin's profile had begun.

From then on, everything started speeding towards the release of FACE. The Hardware and Software images came out.

Set Me Free Pt 2 exploded into the world on 17/03. Nobody saw it coming and it caused a furore on social media. It was a clear statement of intent. I am here to stay and I am here to slay. It debuted at No.30 on the Billboard Hot 100.

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FACE was released on 24/03 along with the Like Crazy MV. Speaking for myself Like Crazy blew me away. Jimin set out to make a statement with that song and I will always be proud to be the fan of such an honest and brave artist.

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With the release of FACE we also discovered that hidden on the record was a very special song, Letter, in which Jungkook sings background vocals.

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That last week of March saw Jimin appeared on the Jimmy Fallon Show with a live performance of Like Crazy.

In the next 9 days, he gave comeback performances on MCountdown, Music Bank and Inkiagayo. He came live to thank ARMY for turning up to his shows. He won awards. He appeared on the radio, on the entertainment shows Beat Coin, Ddeun Ddeun and Pixid. He even did fan meetings.

April 2023

On 01/04 Jimin gave an unforgettable acoustic rendition of Like Crazy live on Lee Mujin Service April Fools Edition.

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And then on 03/04, Jimin made history. The first South Korean to ever make No.1 on the Billboard Hot 100 and the first Asian Artist to do so in 60 years. He came live in the early hours of the morning, clearly shellshocked but brimming over with gratitude to everyone who had supported the album and the song.

Then on 05/04 the promotions were over and Jimin once again expressed his happiness and thanks to ARMY for supporting FACE.

It had been a whirlwind and I think we, as well as Jimin, were caught off guard when the promotions ended so quickly. We had a beautiful album to savour but we wanted to continue to savour it with Jimin.

The focus returned to fashion when Jimin flew to New York at the end of April to attend the Tiffany & Co Landmark opening (28/04).

He attended Suga's concert in Newark on the 29/04 and headed back to South Korea later that week. But why didn't he fly straight back after the concert we wondered?

May 2023

It all soon became clear, he had been filming the MV for Angel Pt 1 from the Fast X movie. The song came out on the 19/05 and debuted at No. 65 on the Billboard Hot 100. This was Jimin's fourth chart entry in five months.

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At the end of the month, Jimin made a short trip to London and we are still speculating on what that was all about. He posted photos of his trip to HP World as soon as he got back to South Korea on 27/05.

June 2023

Festa 2023 soaked Seoul in purple for nearly three weeks at the beginning of June in celebration of BTS's ten years since debut. Jimin gifted fans with a live performance of Dear.ARMY on 07/06 and....

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,,,,,,on 13/06 BTS released this beautiful live version of Take Two with Jimin adding depth and colour to the song with his stunning vocals.

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But there was still more to come, on 15/06 Jimin came live in high spirits and spent quality time with ARMY. It was the same day as the release of Angel Part 2.

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On the 27/06 Jimin's solo profile appeared on Billboard and serves as a permanent reminder of everything that has happened in the short space of 6 months. It has been a roller coaster ride and I am still hopeful that we will still get more music from Jimin before he has to enlist. I wanted to make this post so that no one forgets what he has achieved and the permanent mark he has made on the global music industry since he took his first steps towards a solo career.

Post Date: 28/06/2023

#jimin #park jimin #bts solo careers #face #set me free part 2 #like crazy #vibe #taeyang #angel part 1 #angel part 2 #dear.ARMY #take two #jimin x tiffany & co #jimin x dior

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jksprincess10 · 1 year

Text

The neighbor’s daughter 5.Trust

A/N: Thank you all for your patience with this series. I’m planning on writing two more chapters.

Summary: As your trip back to New York creeps closer and closer, your trust issues come to light.

CW: angst, trust issues, talk about cheating, petnames.

Catch up on chapters:

part 1: Home, sweet home♡ ☁

part 2: Pool party ♡ ☁

part 3: Hello again ♡ ☁ ϟ

part 4: She knows ♡ ☁ ϟ

Masterlist

Playlist inspired by the fic

“I love you too, hun’.”

You smiled at Joel’s words and disappeared in the bathroom.

Knowing you’d soon be flying back to New York for your semester, you tried to spend every moment possible with your boyfriend. You’d go out, you’d sleep at his place, but you had to face reality: Joel was way busier than you. He was working full time, and he had a daughter to take care of. Meanwhile… you had your whole days to think about your future when you weren’t spending time with your dad.

The contrast between your life and Joel’s couldn’t be more evident when you were laying in your childhood bedroom, filled with bright colors and posters of artists that you fangirled over the years, while your boyfriend was sweating his ass off at work.

To say you were scared was an understatement. You didn’t talk about how you’d make it work. Truthfully… you feared getting hurt again and wanted to run away. If Chad had cheated on you while you were living on the same campus, what would keep Joel from doing the same thing while you were in another state?

To put your mind off things, you accompanied your dad to run some errands.

When you got back home, you saw Joel waiting in his pickup truck in his driveway. You got out of your dad’s car and went up to your boyfriend’s, standing in front of his door. When he saw you, he opened his window. You put your hand against the door to support yourself while you stole him a kiss.

“Hey hun’, gonna bring Sarah to a friend’s. You wanna spend time together?”

“I’ll meet you after dinner with dad, how does that sound? I… really needed to talk to you.”

“Sure baby, everything okay?”

“Y-yes ! Don’t worry.” You lied nervously.

He was going to ask you questions, but Sarah got out of the house. She waved at you with a smile.

“Have fun at your friend’s, ‘Rah!” You said as you backed away from Joel’s pickup and watch them leave.

“Is everything okay, sweet pea? Did anything happen?” Asked your dad while you two were eating. Well, you were mostly poking at your food.

“Yeah, just not really hungry. I’ll leave the rest in the fridge for later.”

Your dad didn’t believe you, but he knew you’d talk to him when you were ready. Besides… your mom was better with words. She always knew what to say when you were upset… but she was gone. You got up and emptied the content of your plate in a plastic container for later.

“Gonna be at Joel’s, if you need me, dad.” You said as you got your shoes. “I’ll probably be back for the night, we just need to have a quick talk.”

“Okay, love you sweet pea.”

“Love you too, dad.” You closed the door behind you and walked to Joel’s house.

Your lover opened the door almost instantly when you knocked on it. He was probably waiting for you like a puppy waiting for his owner. He pulled you in for a hug, and let you come in.

“I… won’t be long, I’m not feeling well.” You kicked off your shoes and went to the familiar living room, where you sat on the couch.

“Did you get your period? Sarah doesn’t feel well when she gets them…I can take care of you, y’know…”

“No, that’s not it.”

You felt his weight on the couch, and his arm brought you closer.

“I think it’s better not…” You looked up at him, and he saw how serious you were. He gave you more space and looked at you uncomfortably.

“What’s wrong, hun?”

“I… don’t know if it’s a good idea anymore. I mean… us.” You saw Joel’s fingers tighten against the thick material of his jeans. “I’m leaving, you’ll probably want to move on…”

“Don’t assume what I want.”

“Joel, I know you can find someone better. And who says you won’t while you’re still with me?”

“Wait… are you saying I’m gonna cheat on you?”

His words made you bow your head in regret. You didn’t talk and let him flow on his wave of anger.

“I thought you said that older men are more mature. That’s what you bragged about in front of Chad, anyway.” He got up and looked down at you. “Do you really think I’m anything like your ex?”

“I’m just scared, Joel. I… need space to think about it.”

“I’m serious about us. You met my daughter… she sees you as her stepmom. Kind of fucked up that you want to back away now.”

You got up, not looking at him.

“But go, have your space. Talk to me when you can trust me.” He added.

“I’m sorry, Joel. I love you, I promise… I just need time. Please.” You looked up at him, tears in your eyes. He also looked hurt, but he didn’t cry in front of you.

He nodded silently and you passed him to put your shoes on. You left the broken man behind you and closed the door.

You spent the rest of the night crying in your bed. Your dad gave you as much space as you needed, but he knew there was something going on between you and Joel. Because, the next day, when Joel came over to work in the backyard, you found an excuse and went out. Your trip back to New York coming soon was a good excuse ; you had some stuff to buy for the next school year.

You got better and better at avoiding Joel, even though he was your neighbor. You managed to ignore him for three days, until you came face to face with him when you got home after hanging out with friends. He was standing in your living room, arms crossed.

“What the fuck are you doing here…” You asked as you put your bag down.

“Waiting for your dad. He got some things for the backyard and offered to wait here.” You were turning around to leave, but he closed the distance between you two and put his hand around your wrist, trapping you inside the home. “Please. Hear me out.”

You turned around, eyes red and filled with tears, and were immediately met with his warm chest. You pushed your nose in the fabric of his shirt as he circled his arms around your waist.

“I can understand why you have trust issues. I’m sorry if I got mad at you.” He said softly.

“I’m sorry for assuming you’d be like my ex…” You looked up at him. “Can we find a way to make this work, Joel?”

His thumb collected the remaining of your salty tears trailing down your cheek.

“We will. We’ll call every night. You’ll visit and we’ll visit. I promise. And when you’re done with school… we can figure out the rest.”

You nodded and smiled softly, your eyes sparkling through the tears.

“Okay. We will.” You repeated his statement to convince yourself, to keep your fear at bay.

Joel leaned down and met your lips with love and delicateness, as if not to rush you. You had missed him, and the simplest of kisses made you eager for more.

You heard the door unlock, so you stepped away with a smile, a promise to meet him later for more.

“Hey dad.”

“Hey sweet pea…” He looked at the two of you for a few seconds, before adding. “I’m glad you found your smile again. Joel, wanna give me a hand?”

“Comin’, old man.” He was heading to the door, but he stopped halfway to look at you. “ Oh, hun’, we’re going to the fun fair in town tomorrow, wanna join? I’m sure Sarah won’t want her old man in the way.”

“I’d love to.” You smiled brightly.

For the occasion, you had put your hair in cute space buns and spread glittery eyeshadow on your eyelids. You wore a tight and colorful dress, with a jean jacket to fight the colder nights. You waited on Joel’s doorstep. He came out with his daughter, who greeted you with a warm hug.

“I’m happy you’re coming! I missed you.”

“Missed you too, ‘Rah.”

When she finally left you, you left a chaste kiss on Joel’s lips and took the time to look at him. His hair was freshly washed, you could tell by the way it was pulled back, and he wore a nice burgundy shirt with jeans. He had a light jacket in his hands, just in case, but he rarely got cold. You liked him dirty after his days of work, but also like this: well put-together and charming.

The three of you jumped in the pickup, excited to get to the fun fair. Sarah sat at the back, while you sat with Joel at the front.

“We just have to pick up two of Sarah’s friends.” Joel said as he backed the car.

“Ohh, so you’re the dad in charge tonight?” You teased.

“Yeah, dad duty.”

“That’s cute.”

You met Sarah’s friends, and they mostly talked amongst themselves. When you finally got to your destination, Joel made sure to repeat the rules to his daughter.

“Call if you need something and don’t use all your money in these rigged games. Be good, girls.”

“Yes dad. Thank you!” Sarah hugged her father, before running to the action with her friends.

You couldn’t help the warm feeling that filled your heart when you saw how Joel took care of his daughter. He noticed the grin on your face as you two walked far behind the girls.

“What’s up with that smile?”

“You’re a good dad.” You shrugged and held his hand as you walked side by side.

When the girls were far away, the two of you stopped to evaluate where to start. The lights of the merry-go-rounds, the soft music that emanated from the carousel and the shouts of the vendors were inviting.

“So… I told the girls not to play too much of those rigged games, but…I’m hoping I can get you something to cuddle with while you’re away.”

“Just get me a boyfriend pillow.”

“Oh god, no… those are creepy as shit. I’ll get you a teddy bear, c’mon, hun’.”

You stood behind him as you watched him play ridiculous games to win a plushie. Maybe it was beginner’s luck, but he did manage to get you a big prize. You chose a pink teddy bear, that was big enough for you to hug. You put the plushie between your back and your mini backpack, securing it there like it was grabbing on to you.

“It’s so cute! Thank you, Joel. I love him.” You stole a kiss from your boyfriend.

“You wanna go on one of the rides?”

“Hmhm, which one?”

“Thinkin’ of a quiet… empty one…” He said against your ear.

Playfully, you pushed him away, hands laid flat on his broad chest.

“I don’t see you for a few days and you’re desperate… How are you gonna survive, Miller?”

“I’m just takin’ advantage while I can.”

“Let’s do a real ride first and go on the Ferris wheel. Please?”

“Fiineeee.” He couldn’t resist your pretty eyes.

The top of the Ferris wheel gave you a perfect view of the city, and the people at the fun fair looked like little figurines. You scooted closer to Joel, who held you close as you two admired the lights in the sky.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x yn #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dbf ! joel miller

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