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canine-economy · 10 days ago

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Daisuke’s Death and the Invisible Abuse of “Privileged” Children

tw: extensive discussions of child emotional abuse

Another mouthwashing text analysis before I post any polished art? Shocker. But I really really appreciate the reception on my Swansea post, especially as a new account! This Daisuke-centric analysis is gonna be a quick one (< this was a lie. long read ahead!) but he is a character who resonates deeply personally with me as a victim of abuse that looked very much like his own. I do plan on doing a larger analysis of his character, but the abridged version necessary for this piece goes as follows:

Daisuke’s treatment in the narrative��both his implied home life and Jimmy’s taking advantage of him to go into the vent—is another one of this game’s excellent portrayals of normalized (and thus invisibilized) abuse. Children are often cited as one of the most vulnerable classes of people, if not the most vulnerable (I acknowledge that Daisuke is not a child, but Mouthwashing implies that this narrative of his inadequacy has persisted throughout his upbringing and, to this day, he is dictated tasks and lacks independence, treated like a dependent. His youth is also an undisputed feature of his character and, most importantly, the cast treats him like a kid). Children’s dependency on adults and our willingness as a society to accept that the adults in their lives provide the most objective perspective on these young people renders them particularly prone to abuse easily swept under the rug or “justified” by wardens who possess the power to dictate the narrative. Jimmy’s engagement with Daisuke is an extension of the latter’s vulnerability. The co-pilot’s assertion that “he’ll be fine (…) mommy and daddy have him covered” at the birthday party represents a deference to Daisuke’s parents as adequate caretakers who will ensure his longevity and comfort on the basis of their wealth. And we know that Daisuke’s parents think the same—the Q&As reveal that they believe they are doing the best to secure their son a good future. However, the same Q&As indicate that they don’t actually engage with or understand Daisuke’s interests and that their approach to parenting him is entirely understood through their personal beliefs, not those of their son. And Daisuke clearly carries that quite close to his heart. He seems to struggle with identity and acceptance, seeking validation in the form of praise. Daisuke is defined through what he can do for others and not what he independently brings to the table, because that has never mattered where he grew up. The consequences of his parents’ failure to meet his emotional needs ultimately conditioned Daisuke to be perfectly available to be taken advantage of in a corporate setting defined by capitalist attitudes and hierarchies.

While it’s not concrete to say that Daisuke grew up in an emotionally abusive household, it is most important that we cannot dismiss the possibility and that his behavior as the outcome of some obvious degree of neglect is well-aligned with this theory. Moreover, the young man who comes out of that household is easily targeted by Jimmy’s abusive tendencies as a direct result of what he internalizes growing up. Daisuke is apparently financially well-off (contextually we can’t be sure if Daisuke’s family is upper class, middle class, or somewhere in between), and with that comes privilege. Even the way he packs—multiple personalized outfits, entertainment devices, etc—reveal that he’s used to certain comforts and hasn’t yet acclimated to the harsh expectations of companies like the Pony Express. But, especially where young people are concerned, it is all too easy to allow this privilege to act as a curtain between abuse and the outside world. We can acknowledge the privilege and also recognize that it benefits his parents much more than it benefits him as a young person.

Emotional abuse is complex and extremely damaging and Daisuke *does* show symptoms of at least being constantly verbally accosted and emotionally neglected by his parents to the point of permanently warping his sense of self. It also generated his overreliance on authority figures to tell him how to keep himself safe in their world. His mother apparently insulted him to his face (“such a slacker, she said”, and being reprimanded for being too talkative [from the Daisuke teaser]), and a lot of his negative self talk (“total screw-up”, “fuck up”, etc) is reminiscent of how people define themselves by parroting what they are called after internalizing consistent externally-imposed definitions of their identity. While these are not surefire indicators of abuse and I am not willing to diagnose a situation as abusive purely predicated on these factors, the behaviors Daisuke exhibits as a result share many commonalities with those of victims of childhood abuse. In fact, just about every time Daisuke speaks about himself in Mouthwashing, he mentions his failures and his work. It’s not lost on me that the teaser for the whole character is him pondering his mother and how she might not recognize him if he isn’t noisy and obnoxious. He personally puts a lot of stock in their assessment of him as lazy and annoying, but nevertheless tries to accomplish learning through the internship. Furthermore, Daisuke takes on a lot of his mother’s pain, hoping she doesn’t blame herself for the negative things that happen to him (even though in the same scene he reveals that she’s the reason he’s on the stranded Tulpar at all), indicating that he has taken responsibility for the feelings of people in his life even when those people are not his to care for and even bear responsibility for his pain.

Now in young adulthood, Daisuke rarely seems to have any sense of self beyond his parents and his work aside from one-off quips about baseball and babes. It suggests that he has always had to prioritize his parents’ desires growing up to avoid being treated unfairly and even cruelly, stunting his self-discovery. In abusive situations, your understanding of safety and your pursuit thereof are radically impacted and we see this manifest in Daisuke’s continuing willingness to accept those in command as the pinnacle of safety over what one might consider logical, personal acts of self-preservation. He equates safety with obedience, and I contend that that equivalence suggests a lot about how his parents reprimanded deviance from their plans. And not to be that guy, but it is kind of outright cruel to dump your utterly inexperienced teenager-to-early-20-something on a 1 year, no contact, unsafe space voyage in a failing industry knowing that he doesn’t have the necessary skillset yet. That’s what his parents do when they aren’t satisfied with his progress, and it’s intense and disproportionate and alarming! Especially for the dependent! They toss him into the deep end of the corporate machine and insist he learns to swim in such an oppressive, stifling atmosphere. It’s no surprise that he drowns, especially when he himself can’t recognize this as an unrealistic expectation and tackles it with everything he’s got because his parents are theoretically always right about what he needs. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that normalized emotional abuse from the home and how it maps onto a victim’s adult life is a topic Mouthwashing would endeavor to touch on, because visibilizing invisible abuses of power in heteropatriarchal capitalist schemes is arguably the central undertaking of the game.

I don’t think Daisuke has evil parents or anything, rather that what we accept as “good parenting” and “good mentorship” is often negligent with regard to emotional needs and can easily become a source of heavy trauma for the children and mentees if that emotional aspect is stretched too thin in the pursuit of success. Not all abuse is intentional, and the dev Q&As imply that Daisuke’s parents thought they were sincerely investing in his future. They cared, just not in the best way for his wellbeing. Because capitalism emphasizes the individualistic pursuit of success above all else, it’s no wonder that a parent would think that the best thing they can give their kid is an avenue to prosper financially. But in doing so, Daisuke’s parents deny him the opportunity to define himself, to experience agency, and to build up confidence. Effectively, they create a young man so vulnerable to abuse by higher-ups (a manifestation of abuse that is often intentional at the systemic level) that he decides to climb into that vent at Jimmy’s discretion under the pretense that he will make somebody proud. Because that’s how Daisuke has been raised to understand himself and his place—the presumed screw-up boy as a default, making you proud by doing the right thing, who has learned to pursue that achievement to avoid the condescension and disproportionate backlash (e.g. the internship itself) that comes with failure. Everything circles back to his parents’ expectations that he makes for a good worker. When the cocktail knocks Swansea out, Daisuke makes an offhand comment about getting a bad reference—even in the most dire of circumstances, he can’t stop thinking about their capitalistic expectations for his “good” future.

I find that Daisuke really is such a good subtle portrayal of how parents with resources can get away with emotionally stunting their children because we perceive their ability to put a roof over their heads, food on their plate, etc as adequate parenting and even a privilege for the child when it should be the bare minimum. Jimmy certainly buys into it, and even some of the fandom parrots that, really and truly believing Daisuke is some good-for-nothing kid who doesn’t try hard when all we see is him working, including climbing into the vents to try and help despite not being assigned the work (foam scene, not his death). I find this reception shows how inclined we are to accept those narratives of the privileged child’s inadequacy before we address the parent for not fulfilling a child’s emotional needs, which are just as important if not more than the material.

To wrap this up with a quick discussion of the symbolism of his death in the context of the emotional abuse of children (which is the reason I made this whole post but I can’t talk about this guy without going off): Daisuke getting so badly injured trying to do what’s right is a very physical manifestation of the suffering he was already going through. It is the pain of constantly people-pleasing and of holding it all in when he’s lashed out at. He gets injured at all in the pursuit of appeasing Jimmy and (theoretically) Swansea, both of whom he blindly trusts despite how they treat him because he has always been expected to just adhere to the adults with authority in his life. Being talked down to by them is not new and has never been a reason to question their judgement. Daisuke sees this as a product of his own inadequacy as implied by other people, and not of external cruelty. He was raised not to question the system for fear of repercussions.

Jimmy is perfectly situated to coerce him into a dangerous situation because Daisuke has never been taught to say no. The safest option for a scared child is to trust their mentors, and an adult Daisuke does just that. Even Swansea’s teachings of safety are dismantled by Jimmy’s tactical use of captainhood to break the camel’s back. Authority. Daisuke must always listen to authority. Jimmy knows the vent isn’t safe. Swansea tells him directly and he observes the foam incident (if from a distance). For as much as he acts like he cares about taking responsibility for Daisuke’s safety, his individualistic pursuit of “fixing” things manifests in Jimmy again taking advantage of a vulnerable person on the ship. Jimmy doesn’t reconcile Daisuke’s eagerness to help with lessons on safety like Swansea does, but rather uses it only when it benefits him. Daisuke is taught by his upbringing to accept this kind of treatment—for safety, defer to the leader in the room even if it hurts and you don’t want to do it (just like he didn’t want to be on the Tulpar in the first place).

Then, once the intern is out of the vent and mortally wounded, Jimmy applies the mouthwash (a product to be sold, hauled in the interest of the corporation) to “help” sanitize the wounds. But the sugar content negates medical utility and only worsens the pain. We can interpret this as the application of material privilege, “sweetness”, that wasn’t actually any help at all to solve the deep wounds left by emotional pains. Mouthwash rids you of the bad taste but doesn’t kill all the underlying germs. One could argue further that in this scene, the mouthwash is specifically representative of the Pony Express internship: a rare stepping stone in the corporate hustle gained through privilege and presented as a boon. Like the mouthwash, the internship is imposed on Daisuke to try and “help” him succeed and be better, but it only elevates the pain by irritating the wounds and ends in his agonizing demise. However, this fine-tuned comparison isn’t necessary to my point. I find the broad implications of the mouthwash as an antiseptic immensely representative of parents and caretakers who don’t seem abusive to the outside world but who are actually subversively hurting their children and ultimately conditioning them to be victimized by capitalist attitudes. Our deference to material comforts and corporate opportunities as indicators of wellness renders us blind to where caretakers fail to address the emotional needs of young people. At the end of the day, Daisuke is still killed by the values his parents have instilled in him. It’s always the “captain’s” (literal or figurative) orders that seal the deal and cut off any of his autonomous doubt or dictation (for example, his desire to listen to Swansea and not go in the vent). His parents’ symbolic and saccharine gestures mean very little in the scheme of creating a person who can survive the pressures of the “real world” when malicious actors (JIMMY.) and the capitalist enterprise as a whole bear down on the cracks of an emotionally taxing youth.

A/N: Maybe I’m thinking about all of this too hard, but the beauty of Mouthwashing is that I’m never quite sure that’s the case as this game feels so deliberate. Anyway, as somebody who has clinically diagnosed PTSD stemming from childhood, this has always been a really important analysis to posit and I finally found the time to put it into words. I feel like Daisuke as a symbol is often overlooked by the fandom. He’s enjoyed, yes, but not really broken down like the others are. That diminishing of his importance and his feelings about the situation also feels like a symptom of his age. But that’s neither here nor there—like I said, I believe I could do a much more in-depth analysis of Daisuke as a victim of subtle abuse but this will have to do for now. A lot of my major points have been made, anyway! Perhaps video format would be best for something longer-form. 🌺

#.txt 🌊#mouthwashing #mouthwashing analysis #daisuke mouthwashing #not tagging Jimmy but he’s mentioned here #mouthwashing game #oh my god this is so long I’m so sorry #I have an actual class essay to write but here’s daisuke mouthwashing I guess

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3liza · 1 year ago

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I feel very defensive about the "goth is bougie" shit because it is historically incorrect, yes, but also and more personally, because it just erases the generations of goth kids who grew up in trailer parks and project housing or just straight up homeless, helping each other out.

it's specifically such a supportive subculture for poor and neglected kids and I really fucking hate that this has been revised and erased. juggalos and goths are very culturally close and many subcultural people are both, and juggalos have the same (and, I would argue, even better defined) culture of collective support. the Skids in Letterkenny are not made up for the show, that's just a real type of rural subcultural person. this has also been forgotten in the interim but in the 90s and 00s we didn't even really refer to OURSELVES as "goths" very much except in a joking way. goths had regional endonyms (like "skids" or "trenchies") even if they could all go to a convention or a club in a city and in that context be all called "goths" together, once they went back home they would go back to being whatever the locals called them or whatever they called themselves. this is a whole linguistics and sociology subtopic that's out of scope for a Tumblr post but is sort of related.

my point is that people who wore actual rags, and sharpie instead of nail polish, and wet n wild eyeliner instead of black lipstick, and dyed their hair with markers or food coloring or kool-aid, were and are the core of the goth scene. the majority of the pictures the mallgoth blogs are posting are from catalogs, fashion shows, costume events, yearly balls and fetes like Wave Gothik Treffen, and other places where people save up literally all year, or many years in a row, to put together ONE outfit. and there's nothing wrong with that, personally I'm proud and pleased that our hard work is being recognized and preserved. but just like formal studio photographs from the Victorian era, it is not representative of the daily or even weekly (for clubs) reality of people in the scene, some of whom were completely out of goth clothing during the day or week just to fit in at work or sometimes just to get along without being bothered at home by family members who thought the Cure was Satanic.

the people who RUN the scenes, the promoters and DJs and gogo dancers and independent designers and people who run the mailing lists and websites, the people who organize the room parties at conventions, and yes even most of the original Burning Man camps like Thunderdome, they mostly live in poverty. especially if they're young. when people organize club nights and shows, they're lucky if they break even. I wasn't aware of any of this until I started working at DNA Lounge in San Francisco, which hosts one of the oldest goth nights in the country, Death Guild. I got to know the owner of DNA well enough to find out about the financial reality of the entire scene, even the people who own the means of production and the actual property in this case, and it's not lucrative. I mean, it sometimes is, if you're running a bar for normal people and have investment captain etc, but the majority of legit subculture economics is just barely breaking even. every single event is 90% volunteer labor.

the issue of labor is maybe the confusing thing for the zoomers who are confused. goth outfits take actual physical work. maybe the Aspirational Spectacle of Labor that makes up most of TikTok has made it appear unreal to the audience rather than something you can just sit down and do?

it takes forty seconds to make the fishnet tights into a shirt. you don't need instructions, you really can just look at it and figure it out. then you think, hm, if I can make fishnets into a shirt I wonder what other things I can turn into something else. your brain will amaze you. my mom would save her tights from her formal work outfits for me when they got holes or whatever and I would just go crazy with scissors and safety pins. lots of young designers are getting attention for this layered, tights-n-pins look at the moment and it really is a fantastic aesthetic but I wonder if people think there's something special about the people who make these clothes? there isn't. you can just do it at home while you watch trashy youtubes.

one time, around 2008 or so, @gothiccharmschool and I were at the photoshoot for tabletop RPG Unhallowed Metropolis. we were there with a bunch of local goths to all make the pictures for this book together. we had all brought tons of our costumes from home to cobble together outfits for the book illustrations, and there was a moment when I just handed Jilli a pile of black skirts and some pins and said hey Jilli, could you please make me up a bustle skirt for this model real quick while I shoot these other models? and of course she did, and they were beautiful, because she knows exactly what she's doing, and because that's all a bustle is: it's a way of bunching up a skirt with another skirt. you can do it at home. you don't need instructions or to hire a seamstress or watch a video. you can just look at something and say hm does it look like a bustle? let's drape it and play with it and pin whatever works. and then you wear it for the photoshoot, or to the club!!! and then next week you pin it a different way and it's a cape instead and you wear it again!!!!!!!

#blog #goth history #goth #looking like absolute shit at the club #as is my sacred right

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 3 months ago

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The Race for Our Future

word count: 1.5k

Pairing: toto Wolff x wife!reader

Summary: As Toto Wolff watches his wife’s natural rapport with children in the paddock, he envisions a future of family life with her.

Request are open

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The sun was shining brightly over the Formula 1 paddock, the air buzzing with the energy of race day. The scent of burning rubber and the distant roar of engines set the scene, but despite the chaos, there was a peacefulness in your heart. You had always loved the race weekends, not just because of the thrill of the sport, but because it was a time where you could be close to your husband, Toto Wolff, even in the midst of his busy world.

Today, you were dressed in a sleek outfit that had turned more than a few heads. You were no stranger to the attention—your sense of style and natural beauty often made you the topic of conversation among the paddock regulars. But as much as you enjoyed fashion, your heart was elsewhere, focused on something much simpler and more fulfilling.

As you wandered through the paddock, you found yourself drawn to a small group of children running around, their laughter ringing out like music in the air. They were playing an impromptu game of tag, their bright smiles infectious. It wasn’t long before you found yourself crouched down to join them, your laughter mixing with theirs as you pretended to be caught in their game.

You were effortlessly good with children, something Toto had noticed long ago. He had seen you with his son, Jack, and had always known you’d make an incredible mother. But Jack was already seven, independent and full of energy. Seeing you now with these younger kids, something stirred inside him. He stood at a distance, watching you with an expression that softened the longer he observed.

The way you laughed and played, the way you spoke to the children with such warmth and patience—it was like a glimpse into a future he hadn’t yet dared to fully imagine. And in that moment, Toto felt something deep within him shift. The idea of having a child with you had crossed his mind before, but now it was more than just an idea. It was a longing, a desire to see you holding a baby of your own, your baby, in your arms.

As the children were eventually called away by their parents, you stood up, brushing off your designer jeans with a soft smile still playing on your lips. You turned and caught Toto watching you, his expression thoughtful. A small, knowing smile curved your lips as you walked over to him.

"What are you thinking about so seriously, Mr. Wolff?" you asked teasingly, slipping your arm through his as you leaned in close.

He looked down at you, his dark eyes filled with affection. "Just enjoying the view," he replied smoothly, his voice low and warm. But the way he was looking at you made you suspect there was more on his mind.

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. "Uh-huh. You’ve got that look, Toto. What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"

He hesitated for a moment, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I was just watching you with those children," he began slowly, "and I couldn’t help but think... you’d make a wonderful mother."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you decided to play it cool. "I already am a mother," you pointed out with a light tone, though your heart was racing. "Jack’s practically our shadow these days."

Toto smiled, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. "Yes, and you’re amazing with him. But he’s growing up so fast. It’s different when they’re that young. I was thinking... maybe it’s time we considered having one of our own."

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by his directness. You had always known this conversation would come up eventually, but you hadn’t expected it now. You decided to tease him a little, just to see how serious he really was.

"Are you sure about that?" you asked, tilting your head and pretending to consider it carefully. "I mean, sleepless nights, dirty diapers, and baby spit-up all over my designer clothes... it doesn’t exactly sound glamorous."

Toto chuckled, though his gaze didn’t waver. "It’s not about glamour," he said softly. "It’s about family, about creating something together that’s bigger than both of us. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and seeing you today just... it made me realize how much I want that with you."

You bit your lip, the teasing smile slipping from your face as you felt the sincerity in his words. You knew Toto wasn’t the type to say something like this lightly. The truth was, you had been thinking about it too. The idea of having a child with him, of starting this new chapter of your lives together, was something you had secretly longed for.

But you couldn’t resist one last tease. "Well, it’s a good thing you’re so convincing, Mr. Wolff," you said, your voice playful but your eyes shining with affection. "Because I was starting to think you’d never ask."

Toto’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, then a slow, delighted smile spread across his face as he realized what you were saying. "So... you’re in?" he asked, his voice filled with hope.

You leaned in closer, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. "I’m all in," you whispered, your voice full of warmth and love. "I’ve been ready for this, Toto. I want to have a family with you."

For a moment, he just looked at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck. Then he pulled you into a gentle but firm embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go.

"You have no idea how happy you’ve just made me," he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled against his chest, feeling a deep contentment settle over you. "I think I do," you replied softly.

“So,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence with a playful tone, “are we talking about soon, or are you just testing the waters?”

Toto chuckled, a deep, warm sound that you felt reverberate in your own chest. “Well, that depends,” he replied, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “How soon can we clear the calendar?”

You laughed, the sound light and happy, before you pretended to think it over. “Hmm, let’s see. We’ve got the race today, obviously. A few sponsorship events next week, a couple of fashion shows I’ve been invited to…” You trailed off, looking up at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes. “But, I suppose we could make some room in our schedule.”

Toto’s smile widened, his expression softening even further. “You do realize this is going to change everything, right?” he asked, his tone more serious but still filled with that same warm affection. “Once we decide to do this, there’s no going back.”

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in, but you felt nothing but certainty in your heart. “I know,” you said quietly. “And I wouldn’t want to go back. I want this, Toto. I want us to have a family. I want all of it—the sleepless nights, the chaos, the joy. As long as it’s with you.”

His eyes glistened for a moment, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin.

You smiled, feeling a deep warmth spread through you. “We’re lucky to have each other,” you corrected, squeezing his hand.

As you both stood there, caught up in the moment, you suddenly heard a familiar voice calling out from behind you. “Dad! Y/N!”

You turned to see Jack running towards you, his face lit up with excitement. He had clearly been enjoying his time in the paddock, probably sneaking peeks at the cars and charming everyone he met with his boundless energy.

Toto let go of you just in time to scoop Jack up in his arms, lifting him effortlessly as the boy beamed with delight. “There’s my little troublemaker,” Toto said fondly, ruffling Jack’s hair.

Jack grinned and immediately started talking a mile a minute about the cars he’d seen, the people he’d met, and how he couldn’t wait to watch the race from the pit wall. You listened with a smile, enjoying the sight of the two of them together.

As Jack continued to chatter excitedly, you exchanged a glance with Toto, and for a brief moment, you both silently acknowledged what had just happened between you. The decision, the promise, the future you were about to embark on together.

But you also knew that it wasn’t the right time to share this new plan with Jack—not just yet. For now, it was a precious secret between you and Toto, something you could hold close as you planned the next steps.

“Jack,” you said, gently interrupting his enthusiastic monologue, “how about after the race, we all go out for dinner? Just the three of us?”

Jack’s eyes lit up even more, if that was possible. “Can I have dessert first?” he asked, his voice full of hope.

Toto laughed, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that,” he said, a teasing edge to his voice.

You smiled at the exchange, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. “It’s a deal,” you said, reaching up to touch Toto’s arm. “But no promises on the dessert part.”

#reader insert #fanfiction #f1 #f1 x reader #fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #toto wolff x reader #fluff #toto wolff

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wardenparker · 5 months ago

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American as Apple Pie

Jack Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12k Warnings: Cursing, food/alcohol, meddlesome friends, mention of shooting/guns but the context is carnival games, cheesy flirting, Jack being Jack. Fingering, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex. Summary: Going to a Fourth of July party with your girlfriends turns out to be an unexpected whirlwind. Notes: It wouldn't be a holiday without a little fic to celebrate. Independence Day seemed best acknowledged with a heavy dose of Jack's good natured charm. 🎆🎇💗🤍💙

The Statesman Fourth of July celebration in Louisville, Kentucky is one of the biggest and loudest in the area. It was an excuse to drape everything in red, white and blue, perfect your Uncle Sam costume, and play Lee Greenwood’s ‘Proud to be an American’ on repeat. There is a special whiskey barrel that is opened every year since its founding in 1919. Huge grills are rolled out to cook hamburger and hotdogs by the thousands as it’s an open party for everyone. Ending in a spectacular fireworks show that lights up the sky.

Some friends wanted to go. Girls from the office who were looking for a more festive holiday celebration than watching their siblings' kids play in the pool and playing cornhole while their aunts bitched about grocery prices. Not having anything better to do, you had thrown on the only red, white, and blue clothes you had in your closet and punctuated the look with red lipstick just for fun. Maybe you'll have one too many and flirt with a cowboy. That wouldn't be too bad.

The bolero he normally wears around his neck with the button down and sports coat had been traded for an open collared shirt, a print of U.S flags on them. His normally painted on jeans exchanged for white shorts and cowboy boots changed out with boat shoes. Still, the black Stetson is firmly on his head, although the mustache was still impeccably groomed and no one would mistake him for anything but a cowboy as he drinks from a long neck bottle to beat the mid afternoon heat.

The music filtering through speakers all over the Statesman Distillery property is obviously country, but the actual number of Stetsons in the sea of guests is staggering even to a Louisville resident. It's that time of the year, you suppose, making your way toward one of the many drink carts with your friends as you scope out the crowd.

“Weeeeeellllll, holy shit.” Tequila whistles, twisting his neck as he looks over at the margarita cart, smirking at the choice of drink. “Get a good look at the shorts on those legs.” He nods, making Jack follow his gaze to the group of women who obviously just arrived.

"God bless the USA." Rum pronounces solemnly, only lifting his Stetson from his head to place it over his heart in salute to the group of four ladies in the tiniest shorts he's ever seen that are now getting their drinks.

“Goddamn I love the summer.” Jack whistles, winking at the one in the red top when she looks over at them. “Happy fourth ladies!” He calls out, lifting his beer towards them.

"Happy Fourth!" You call back, raising the frozen margarita you've just been served in their direction as you friends giggle mercilessly around you. The three men who are not bothering to censor their ogling are dressed in some of the worst outfits here. Tiny white booty shorts on one, a stars and stripes Kiss the Cook apron on the tallest, and the third wearing neon red shorts and a muscle tank depicting a bald eagle wearing sunglasses that says You Free Tonight? underneath.

"Rocks Paper Scissors for the tall one?" You friend Madi proposes to the group, eyeing the youngest and buffest of the men like he's the snack she didn't know she was craving.

“No, you can have him.” Tina snorts. “I’ve got my eye on the one with the eagle on his shirt.” She admits, drooling herself at the virile display of man, who can also enjoy themselves.

“Have fun,” you snort, shaking your head and focusing on your drink. “I came here to drink and to line dance very poorly, not to get picked up.”

“Why can’t we have it all?” Madi asks, giggling when the one in the apron motions the group over when no one has looked away.

“I’m not sure white shorts is the guy to break my dry spell,” you mumble to them with an amused grin as the four of you strut over to the men who were watching you. “And you two already called dibs on the others.”

“If you don’t want him, I’ll ride his mustache.” Sandra snorts, smirking slightly at the group of men. “I’m sure my fiancé wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure.” Tina giggles. “We’ll just call Brad up and let him know you’ll be late for dinner because you found a cowboy at a party.”

“He’ll understand.” All of you laugh, knowing that he definitely would not understand. He loved her completely and was lucky enough that she was just as crazy about him. Their wedding is only three months away.

“Ladies.” Kiss the Cook tips his hat gallantly and lets his eyes sweep over every single one of you. “A very happy Independence Day to you beauties.”

All three men clock the ring on the statuesque brunette’s hand and immediately understands that she is off limits. The other two tip their hats as well and Jack grins. “Can we offer you something to eat?”

There is a split second before you look over to fully take in the third man of the group that you’re apparently now hanging out with, and instantly regret the snap judgement made from yards away just a minute or two before. He’s only smaller by comparison, broad shoulders and a strikingly cut jaw accented by the aviator sunglasses he’s wearing and leading down to biceps as thick as his neck and hands that — fuck, if you’d seen his hands beforehand you wouldn’t have said a damn thing, he makes that beer bottle look like a doll accessory. “Ah—We—um, sure,” you manage to blurt out, nodding self-consciously and absolutely aware that your friends are never going to let you live down getting flustered in front of the cowboy.

Madi grins at the way you are suddenly tripping over yourself to accept the offer of a burger. “If we’re gonna eat, maybe we can know who is offering us a plate?” She asks, smiling flirtatiously at the taller man holding the spatula. The three men chuckle. “We go by our work nicknames.” Jack offers, pointing at Rum to start. “Ryan, also known as Rum. Because he can get any party started.” He introduces him with a grin. “Next, we have our ‘kiss the cook’, Luke, who we call Tequila. He thinks he can make clothes come off.” Tequila rolls his eyes and shoves Jack slightly as the older man tips his hat towards you girls. “And I’m Jack, otherwise known as Whiskey.” Tina grins. “Why do they call you that?” She asks, making Jack chuckle. “Because I go down as smooth as the finest whiskey.” He boasts, tipping his aviators down so his eyes find you again and he shoots you a confident wink.

“So you work here then, I assume?” Guys who work for a distillery having boozy nicknames it’s so far off base, but Jack’s declaration that he ‘goes down like the finest whiskey’ has you thinking mustache ride thoughts all over again and if you could do it you might just slap yourself for something so obvious. On the other hand? No man should be able to make a wink look as smooth as he just did.

“Only if you want us to.” Rum smirks at Tina and tips his hat back slightly. “Otherwise we can be whatever you want. Spies, cowboys, hell, maybe all three.” Tequila huffs a cough and slaps Rum on the back. “Are you ladies burger or hot dog kind of women?” He asks, changing the subject.

“I think there’s a rule that you have to have a hot dog on the Fourth of July, isn’t there?” Tina replies, batting her eyelashes pointedly.

“Absolutely.” Tequila agrees. “Now the question is-“ he points the tongs at all of you seriously. “Are you a chili cheese dog person or a peppers and onions person?”

The question sparks a full culinary debate, as Tina insists only mustard is necessary, Sandra and Madi are fans of peppers and onions any way they can get them, and you just shrug over it all because there's no point in trying to be dainty with a hot dog. A chili cheese dog is the only way to go.

Jack chuckles as the girls are chattering, except the one in the red. “You are awful quiet, sugar.” He comments. “Not choosy?”

"Very choosy," you tell him, laughing a little about how involved your friends are getting in this debate with the other two guys. "Chili cheese dog every time. But my friends like to pretend that it's possible to be dainty while eating a hot dog. I'd rather enjoy something delicious."

Jack grins at your answer and points a finger up to tip his hat back on his head. “No, you just gotta jump in and devour it.” He hums, his smirk slightly dirty.

"Whoever put you three in one place today is a menace," you inform him with a deeper, rounder laugh. "But I totally agree. The only way is to jump in."

Jack chuckles, leaning in a little closer to you. “Not true.” He coos. “We were brought together for a good time.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer.

It can be both," you concede, getting a whiff of an expensive, musky cologne under the grill and sunscreen smell that hangs all around this booth.

“Well then.” Jack snorts, tapping his bottle against your margarita glass. “To being a menace.” He offers with a smirk.

"Here." A long sip of your drink hides a flustered grin, but you don't mind having run into someone this charming and handsome right off the bat. You and your friends will wander away in due time, and they'll become a fun anecdote for the office, and probably material for the spank bank of each and every member of your group as well.

“So what made you decide to join our little celebration?” Jack asks without any sense of irony despite the bash being massive. There are bounce houses and carnival style game booths set up. Along with all kinds of food and drink.

"Girls' day out." Ordinarily you might feel bad for Sandra, being slightly singled out while the other three of you are being shamelessly flirted with, but she's chatting with Kiss the Cook as well and having a grand time. "When your day is office, home, and back again, sometimes a party is just what you need."

“Oh I understand.” He promises, even if his work is not as traditionally boring all the time, there are plenty of days that the paperwork tedium gets to him.

"Your days are probably a lot more fun than ours." Without knowing that you're reading his thoughts, you just decide to make conversation and enjoy whatever comes from it.

“Some days. Others it’s slower than molasses dripping off a spoon.” He likes the fact that you aren’t just flirting, there’s interesting conversation blooming. “Although I’m enjoying right now.”

"This must be one of the more fun workdays each year." Why wouldn't it be? There are half-dressed women all over the places, and whatever the orientation of these three might be, they're all definitely interested in women. You sip your drink again and find that your head tilts slightly in his direction instinctively. "We're not going to get you in trouble, are we?"

“Nah.” Jack waves away your concern, secretly touched that you would be worried about that. “Well just call this….public relations.” He teases, winking at you again. “How does that sound, sugar?”

"Like you should be a politician," you snort, but honestly you don't mind. It's been a while since you just flirted for the hell of it and it's fun.

Jack wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Sugar, you are breaking my heart.” He groans. “I would never want to be lumped in with those lyin’, thievin’ scumbags.” He shakes his head and puts his beer down to lay his hand over his heart. “I’m a patriot.”

Somehow that only makes you laugh more, and when you meet his eyes again it's with warm cheeks and a bright smile. "My apologies," you hum, tipping your margarita in his direction again like a salute. "We'll stick to drinking and flirting. No filibusters today."

“Now hold on….” Jack leans closer and chuckles. “Depends on what kind of filibuster we are talkin’ about.” He drawls. “Some of them can be a good time.” His eyes slide up and down your body suggestively.

Raising one eyebrow at him, sip your sour-sweet vacations through the bright pink straw and smirk. “You want to have a prolonged speech that stalls all activity about my body? Seems counterintuitive, cowboy.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “I don’t think you understand darlin’.” He leans in even closer. “We ain’t talkin’ during my filibuster, we’re just prolonging the main event.” He explains.

One second your head is tiled and the next second you're clamping your mouth shut on a bitten lip. He's just gone from casually flirting to casually painting a mental image that will last you weeks. "You're pretty sure of yourself, cowboy," you hum when you remember how to speak again.

“Have to be.” He admits, truth more than cockiness in his words. “You don’t have to accept, but….” He smirks. “You could always consider it your patriotic booty.” His pun is horrible and he knows it, but he uses it proudly. With the same confidence he wears his Fourth of July outfit.

You snort before you can stop yourself, shaking your head at him as you wave off the laugh as good natured. "That's awful." The play on 'patriotic duty' is absurd, but somehow he manages to make it circle back to charming in a way that is fairly impressive. From most guys it would just sound cheesy or plain bad.

“It is, isn’t it?” He agrees with a grin. “Really awful.” He reaches for his beer again and finishes it in one long swallow.

"Worst line I've heard in a very long time." Even though you're agreeing, you chuckle and shake your head. Why the hell not? When was the last time you just cut loose and had some fun? Can you even remember? "It's...not a no, though."

“Hmmmm.” He lifts a brow and smirks at you again as he reaches into the cooler next to him for another beer. “Well then, I better make sure that you are fed, sugar.” He tells you. “‘Cause you might be in for a hell of a night.”

"You promise a girl a hell of a lot." But for some reason you don't think he's lying, or even exaggerating that much. Maybe it's wishful thinking, you can't tell, but Jack fixes up your hot dog with flare and hands it over just as you finish your margarita.

He takes your empty glass and chuckles. “Would you like another frosty margarita? Or perhaps the blackberry old fashions that are being made?” He asks, pointing to another stand just a few feet away, featuring the ‘87 single barrel that Jack loves.

"I think I have to have whiskey this time, don't I?" Given his nickname, it would almost seem rude not to. Especially when you've decided to encourage him. At least you've been polite enough not to let your eyes wander down and inspect those tiny little shorts he has on.

“Right away.” Jack gives you a two fingered salute before he spins on his heel and hurries towards the booth to collect you the best blackberry old fashion you’ve ever had.

Sandra scrambles over during the momentary pause, searching your face for anything besides the focused attention you're paying to the cowboy's ass as he walks away. "Are we rescuing or retreating?" She murmurs, hot dog in hand but ready to bounce in a heartbeat if you need it. "Actually?" Glancing up at her, you offer a sideways grin of defeat. "I think I'm gonna hang out a while. Hot-but-cheesy cowboy kinda got to me. I wanna see how this plays out."

“Really?” Her brow shoots up and she grins at you. “Takin’ that mustache for a ride?” She teases. “I’m jealous. He’s got a fantastic one.”

"I'll tell Brad to grow one before the wedding," you tease, barely managing not to snort again with laughter as Jack heads back your way.

“Ladies.” Jack smiles with a charming aplomb as he hands you the old fashion he had made for you, and offers Sandra the one he had gotten for himself.

"Oh, I'm alright." Sandra insists, smiling her thanks but not taking the drinks. "Designated driver. I had my one and now I'm set for the day." That smile flashes over at you, and she squeezes your hip gently but encouragingly. "I think we're going to wander. You want to come?"

It's a clear chance to break away if you have suddenly changed your mind and you want to, but you shake your head and lean over to kiss your friend's cheek. "I'll catch up with you guys later," you tell her, though at present you aren't actually sure if you will or not.

“I’ll keep her entertained.” Jack promises when your friend’s eyes turn towards him and he can read a slight warning in them. “And return her to you when she’s bored with me.” He adds.

“You have our numbers,” Sandra reminds you. “One text and we come running.” She blows you a kiss before stepping away, satisfied that Jack will at least be respectful as well as pretty, and that’s worth its weight in gold.

“You don’t have to stay.” Jack hums. “But I’ll make sure you don’t regret it if you do.”

"Promises, promises," you sing song, but rather than letting the moment get heavy you take a first bite of your hot dog and groan happily.

He chuckles and lets you enjoy the hotdog, admiring the way you save a dollop of mustard before it escapes and takes a sip of his drink. “After you eat, are you wanting to dance or maybe play a few games?”

"Either." Pleased with the idea that he might put a little more work into this than just fucking you and having a nap after, you end up smirking a little before the last bite of your food. "Both?"

“Done.” He agrees easily, holding out a napkin for you like a gentlemen. Other agents have taken over the grills because Tequila and Rum have magically disappeared with your friends. “Games first, let your hotdog settle.”

Gone in mere minutes, you make sure you haven't smeared your mouth with mustard or chili before picking up the drink he brought you and motioning ahead of you toward the rest of the fair. "Lead the way, cowboy."

The first booth is one that all the agents have been warned to throw. It’s the shooting gallery. He grins as he cocks his head to the side. “Whatcha think?”

"I can't say I'm much with a gun. Besides maybe a Super Soaker." The big plushies and toys behind the counter look just as inviting as they're supposed to, though, and you shrug. "But what the hell. Think you can give me a few pointers?"

“Let’s see how you do and maybe I’ll help you win a prize?” Despite the warning, Champ won’t be too mad if he shows off just a little. Especially since all the prizes have been paid for by Statesman already, leaving the game free to play.

"I have a feeling I'm about to embarrass myself for your amusement." Despite that, you laugh and take your place at the booth. The moving targets are fairly standard — bright yellow duck-like figures that do not resemble the actual animals but look more like rubber duckies that will fall over on the track when shot. "Here goes nothing," you decide, figuring that if you get even two you'll be extremely proud of yourself.

Jack uses this to his advantage and presses close behind you, holding your elbow up. “Steady.” He murmurs in your ear.

"Hell of a thing to say to a girl when you're that close," you mumble, but the smirk in your voice is obvious.

“I can always say more.” He teases playfully, nudging your arm up slightly. “Be a good girl and take a deep breath.”

It's almost frustrating how well that works on you, making you inhale sharply and shallowly at the words and completely giving yourself away before you can follow the direction and inhale slowly like he's told you to.

You miss, but it was actually closer than Jack had figured the first shot would be. “Good job!” He praises, reaching for your hips and shifting your core slightly, brining you back against him more. “Try again, sugar.”

Whatever the cologne is he's wearing, it reminds you of a campfire in the middle of a forest and that might be fogging your mind more than helping you concentrate. Again, you inhale deeply and squeeze the triggering, putting far more work into this silly shooting game than you need to but finding that you actually clip one of the targets this time and manage to almost knock it over.

“Almost got it.” Jack hums in approval. “Let’s see you knock that same one down.”

Utter concentration isn't possible with him pressed up against you, but you breathe again and call yourself to order, managing to breathe and aim and drop your elbow and all of those other things in just the right harmony to actually knock over one of the targets on the next try. It's not enough to get you a prize, but it's enough to have you doing a little wiggled dance of celebration that all the effort paid off.

Jack chuckles, happy with your achievement. “Good job, sugar.” He praises. “You did a good job.”

"Not bad for an accountant," you joke, turning a little to beam at him.

“Not too bad at all.” He winks, nodding to the game handler as they set the target back up. “Now I want you to pick out which prize you want.” He tells you, taking the gun from your hand.

"Cocky." You smirk at him but glance back at the booth and consider the options hanging from the top of the booth. Right in front, there is a white teddy bear with blue and red stars wearing a Statesman t-shirt. "How about that one right there?"

Jack hums in approval and looks towards the attendant. “Ten shots in a row.” The kid, who can’t be more than seventeen explains. “Knock all ten down and you win the prize.”

There's no way he'll do it, but you step far enough away to give him room and wave one hand toward the little metal duckies. "Show off for me, cowboy."

Jack settles his hat more firmly on his head and since it’s ten shots, he picks up another gun to have one in each hand. “Oh I will.” He promises as he sends both weapons twirling around his trigger fingers in a smooth gun trick.

Despite literally asking him to show off, your eyes still widen with the trick and you're left half-giggling and half-staring as he knocks down every single target with grace and seemingly no effort at all.

The targets are easy and Jack might have been showing off just a tad by alternating shots with both hands, making sure that you know he’s just as accurate with both hands. The targets are down and he turns towards you with a grin. “Your prize, sugar.” He bows as the stuffed bear is handed to you.

More than a little surprised by the display that was just put on for your benefit, you choke out a laugh, thank the kid running the booth, and positively curtsy to Jack in exchange for the bow. “Alright, I admit it,” you laugh in utter surprise, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek like a fairy tale princess bestowing a token. “I’m very impressed.”

“Good.” Jack smirks slightly and looks at the bear. “I think it’s always important to impress a lady.”

“Consider us deeply impressed indeed,” you joke, holding up the bear beside you like it might have had an opinion in the matter all its own.

Jack smirks slightly. “Do you want to play some more games or dance?”

“I don’t see how we could do any better at the games.” ‘We’ here meaning him — your own performance was dismal but that hardly matters. He’s smiling at you like he wants to make you scream in the best way possible and you want to see if he moves as well on the dance floor if he claims to in bed. “Let’s go dance.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jack takes the hand that is holding your drink and carries it for you. Looping his arm through yours so you can still hold your bear. “We’ll let him watch and learn.” He jokes, motioning to where other stuffed animals are resting while couples cut up the large dance floor.

“For when all the other bears decide to have a hoedown of their own?” That’s about the cutest thing you can think of — aside from him — and you grin at the idea. “I like that. Teddy Bear Hoedown is like a sequel to the Teddy Bear Picnic.”

He chuckles and you go over to the large table, setting down your bear in a particular spot. “He will be safe.” Jack promises you.

“So full of promises today.” The little coo in your voice is teasing, but maybe that’s just how he is? Reassuring and protective is not a bad combination in a man. Not at all.

“My momma always said never make promises you can’t keep.” Even with your drink in your hand after he presses it to you, Jack sweeps you up in his arms to take you out to the dance floor.

“And you always do what your momma tells you to, like a good southern gentleman.” It’s just a guess, but as he twirls you around to settle against him, cradling you in his arms so you can drink and dance while you away with the slower tempo song that’s playing, you just have to grin. “Very smooth,” you admit without a hint of begrudging in the compliment.

“Sugar, all my moves are smooth.” Jack boast, smirking as he gently glides around the floor with you, taking special care not to jostle your drink. The next song will be faster, but right now, the breathless couples are resting slightly with the bluesy sounds of Patsy Cline crooning to them.

“I’m starting to get that.” Not that you mind. Coming to this whole big carnival for the holiday was just for fun after all. But you glance over at Jack after taking the last sip of your drink and find your smile going a little lopsided. It isn’t the booze. He is that handsome.

He hums, his voice a little rusty as he starts to quietly sing along with the song. Only slightly off key as he serenades you with a grin on his face. One that tells you he’s well aware that he’s not the best singer, but he enjoys being a little silly.

Maybe it’s silly. Or maybe it’s human. Maybe it’s because it’s both, you start singing along with him, quietly and just a tad off key. Two silly, awkward, imperfect little people out there on the dance floor swaying in each other’s arms and singing ‘Walkin’ After Midnight’ to each other like a chest moment from a 90s romantic comedy. It’s impossible not to look at his lips at least a few times, both of you grinning when one of you flubs a lyric. And at the end of the song when he twirls you around again to land tight against his chest? The only possible place you can look are his eyes or those lips again, like a magnet pulling you in.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop to his lips, basically asking for him to kiss you. He leans in slightly right before the song changes and is incredibly peppy. A song to line dance to. “Oops.” Jack smirks.

One another day or with another man it might have annoyed or frustrated you to be more or less cockblocked by a deejay. Today? With Jack? Your answer to it all is just to snort in amusement at how pleased with himself he looks and let yourself get all swept up in the dance. It was barely an hour ago that you met him. It does no one any harm to spend a little more time together before things get frisky.

The beat is easy to dance to and despite the fact that you might not know all the steps, Jack does. “Just follow me, sugar.”

The trouble with line dancing is that if you don't know every move you end up looking like an idiot, but you nod and decide to put a little bit more trust in him for the time being. If you were about to kiss the guy, you should at least be able to do that, right? "I'm with you," you promise him, knowing you can keep up.

Jack files into the natural line that forms, partners slightly in front of their men and everyone starts to move together. ‘Heel, toe, dosey doe, come on baby. Let’s boot-scoot.”

Able to pick it up step by step, you follow Jack's lead for movement and watch the couple in front of you the once or twice you get confused, until you're very smoothly and easily moving through the dance with glee. It's such a simple thing but so welcome, and utterly fun to boot.

You are laughing and that is all that matters as Jack grabs your waist to pick you up and spin you around before setting you back down in time with the other couples on the floor. “Having fun?”

“Every second I possibly can,” you answer with a light, bubbling giggle. He’s a strong lead — which is wonderful in a dance partner but gives you ideas about what he could be like in bed. Not to mention how strong he is…

“Good.” Jack is almost ninety-nine percent certain that he is taking you home tonight, but he wants you to enjoy yourself.

"And I hope you are, too?" Glancing back at him as he turns you, you raise one eyebrow at him in question.

“No doubt, sugar.” Jack is a shameless flirt, but oftentimes it’s not leading to more than that. Unless it’s his mission to seduce a target. This- this is just for him and he likes that you are having fun with his corny nature. “Best damn party I’ve been to in forever.” He promises. “Company makes it good.”

“Company is what matters.” And maybe it’s the silliness of it all again, but you throw him a wink before the dance has you turning again. He seems to like a like cheese with his flirting, and frankly that just makes it more fun for you.

The song finishes up and Jack decides that he will twirl you around once more and dip you down low, just to make you giggle. People clap and he grins at you over his aviators. “Another dance, or another drink, sugar?”

“One more dance?” He’s far too much fun like this, with moves even you have to admit he can be proud of, and you’ll be damned if you’re going to give that fun up just yet. Besides which…it might be a bit embarrassing for the guy whose nickname is Whiskey to find out you’re a bit of a lightweight.

He waggles his brows when the song turns to another slow one, meant to press bodies together. “Never turn down a chance to hold a beautiful woman close.” He promises as he tugs you in.

“I don’t believe you do.” It may be a small moment of teasing but the fact that he doesn’t take himself too seriously speaks volumes to you. Relaxed and confident are too things that don’t always compliment each other well — it can come off as pure arrogance whereas he’s cocky in a way that is a bit cheeky and fun. Everything about the man is over the top. “But then,” you hum, winking for good measure. “Neither do I.”

“Really?” Jack’s grin blows into a fully devilish smile and he looks around speculatively. “And which beautiful woman would you choose?” He asks with a chuckle.

For his amusement, you make a show of surveying the room even while you’re pressed tight up against him, and nudge him slightly when you spot a cute girl in the corner being talked at by some other guests she doesn’t seem to be too interested in. “Do you see the cute little redhead over there?” Your own nose points the way to him when you nod. “In the corner? She’s at a table with a blonde, but these two guys keep trying to flirt with her. I think she’s talk rather be flirting with her blonde friend.”

“Good call.” Jack snorts. “That’s Grenadine.” He explains. “She works at Statesman too.” It’s interesting that you seem to have an eye for agents.

“Does everybody get a booze related nickname?” You ask, amused at the idea of it. If you all got accounting nicknames, things would start sounding weird very fast at the office.

“Mixers count.” Jack chuckles. “It makes it easy when there’s twelve John’s working around the place.” He reasons.

"Fair enough, I guess." That does, logistically, make a bit of sense. And frames Statesman as a fairly whimsical place to work in the process. After twirling around the dance floor a little more, you hum softly to yourself and lift your head, raising one eyebrow in question. "Did you always want to work in the booze biz?" He seems silly enough to appreciate the phrasing, and you grin. "Or do you want to be something else when you grow up?"

“Just wanted to raise some hell.” Jack admits with a chuckle. “Was in the Navy for a little bit. Found out I like the freedom of the private world better.”

“Rules.” You huff dramatically, blowing a raspberry to make him laugh. “Who needs ‘em?”

Jack laughs, a full belly laugh of good humor. “Exactly.” He agrees. “Plus the pay is better.”

“There’s that too.” A nod of agreement comes on the end of your own laughter. “Distilleries pay well? I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.”

“Good enough to buy corny outfits for the Fourth of July picnic.” He jokes, taking his aviators off and turning them around to perch on your nose.

“That’s what your shorts need!” You tease, cackling out loud and pushing his sunglasses a little further up your nose. “Ears of corn! The perfect symbol of Americana.”

Jack laughs again. “I’ll have to see if I can order some for next year.” He hums.

"Perfect." The grin you aim at him is almost blinding. "I guess I'll have to come back and see if you found any."

His smug smirk deepens and he waggles his brows. “Yeah?” He asks. “Maybe I’ll have to model them for you.” He suggests. “Make sure they are cheesy enough. Rum talked me out of my Daisy Dukes of Freedom.”

"Oh my god..." You barely manage not to snort with laughter over that image. "Do I want to know?"

“Silkies.” He explains. “Running shorts in the military are…brief.” He hums with a grin. “I had some American Flag ones but then Rum was complaining my upper thighs were too white to wear them.”

"Your friend's objection was your lack of tan?" That only makes you laugh harder, and by the end of the song you're practically clinging to each other as you share that laughter between you. "I dunno, Jack." With your lips pursed, you correct yourself. "Whiskey." He's sure as hell smooth, so why not just use the nickname? "I think you might have to do a little tanning so you can wear them again."

“Well I left my speedo in Italy.” He chuckles. “So how do you suggest I tan?”

That opens up a whole new line of questioning, but in this moment you just flash him an even bigger grin. "Nude, hopefully."

He pretends to be shocked, mouth opened and he reaches for his chest as if he is clutching pearls. “Why I declare!” He drawls. “That is such a scandalous suggestion.” His lips curl into a smirk. “I love scandal.”

"I had a feeling you might." The song is over, your revolving has stopped, and as the next — much more upbeat — song begins, you tilt your head slightly to the edge of the dance floor. "You wanna go be scandalous, Whiskey?"

“Is that an offer?” He asks, lifting a brow and giving you a chance to change your mind. He loves to flirt and have a good time, but he wants it to be enthusiastic.

Hadn't he caught you staring at his lips maybe fifteen minutes ago? Was it really only just a few dances since then? It seemed like days spent basking in his energy and charm. Ah well. Why the fuck not? The Founding Fathers were all freaks anyway, might as well celebrate their way. "Yes."

Well, sugar…” Jack sweeps his hat off his head and holds it over his heart. “You just made my damn year.” He promises with a wink. “And I guarantee I’ll make yours.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, cowboy.” Something tells you he’s bragging with plenty of proof to back him up, but you still give him a crooked smile as you dig your phone out of your pocket. “I’m going to tell my friends not to wait for me.”

“I’ll go collect Mr. Bear for you while you do that, sugar.” He nods and sets his hat back on his head and moves away so you can text your friends privately.

Sliding open your phone, the group chat you have with your friends is full of photos, videos, and excitement shared between them during the day. You’ve been apart from them longer than you expected but they seem to be having a ball — though Rum and Tequila don’t feature in any of the photos or videos so it seems like you’re the only one who stuck with an interested fella today.

Don’t wait up for me, ladies. You type out, and send along a selfie of you wearing Jack’s aviators with him picking up your prize bear off the table in the background. Gonna save a horse by riding that cowboy.

The answers that come back are swift and all congratulating you. Teasing you about your quick change of mind.

Yeah, yeah. I’ll give you all the gossip tomorrow. You write back, barely smothering a grin and you have to bite your lip to keep it at bay. I’ll send you guys a photo of his place and the address when we get there. If you never see me again, tell the cops it was the cheesy pickup lines that convinced me to go with him.

Jack watches you giggle as you put your phone away and walks back to your side with the bear. “See? Safe and sound.”

"Both of you." And something tight and gnarled in your heart seems to breathe more easily in a way you don't quite understand. It's an excitement you haven't felt in a very long time. "Lead the way," you say, accepting the bear happily when Jack deposits him in your arms.

“Did you ride with your friends, or do you want to follow me?” Jack’s Bronco is close to the party, having been here for hours bringing in coolers and helping to set up. He pauses by it and taps the side. “Give you a ride to your car if you want?”

“We all rode together, so I guess I have to beg a ride with you.” Saying it out loud makes it feel very real, but for some reason you’re not nervous. There is a tingle of anticipation and excitement but no worries.

Jack nods and opens the door to the passenger side for you. “Then let me give you the address of where we are going.”

“Thank you.” For both the door and for his understanding, you offer him a soft smile as you climb into the Bronco. So many men these days take the sensible precautions of women they’ve just met as an insult. It’s nice to not have to skirt the line and simply be upfront with him.

He smirks at you as he whips out his phone and opens it up to air drop you a location. “Nothing but details, sugar.”

“Which is the same thing the girls are gonna say to me tomorrow,” you tease, sitting back in the buttery soft seats as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Then I better make sure you got nothin’ but good things to say.” Jack chuckles.

“I guess you’d better.” And you wink, even though the promise makes you squirm slightly in your seat.

“I don’t live too far.” Jack converses as he drives, wanting to you at ease. “That way I can be in the office easily in an emergency.”

“Like oh no, the whiskey isn’t old enough yet?” You ask, confused as to what kind of emergency a distillery could possibly have.

He chuckles. “Or the storage tanks collapsed and flooded the complex in raw, unbarreled whiskey.” He counters. “Thieves. Corporate spies.” He doesn’t get into the extra security Statesman has, that would be a little much for you to understand.

“Corporate spies. Thieves. You make it sound so…” Searching for the word, you notice he never even gets on a highway to get back to his place. He’s simply driving through a suburb as ramblingly as he pleases, and then turns down a long country road. “So very much like the beginning of a self-discovery novel, where the main character is just a lowly employee who finds out their job is really just a cover for something illegal or magical.” Grinning at him, you turn in the front seat and look at him instead of the drive. “Need an accountant? The place sounds fun.”

“Never know, maybe we could.” He chuckles, knowing he would enjoy seeing you around the office more. Might actually want to sit behind his desk more often if he could expect a view like you.

“Never know,” you agree, but your attention is quickly diverted by the little white-painted farmhouse with its picket fence and big shady trees outside that he pulls up beside. “It’s so cute!” You exclaim, having expected to see him living in something huge or deeply masculine. A house you’d see on Yellowstone or picture Clint Eastwood outside.

“Thanks.” He shoots the house a proud smirk. “My great-grandaddy built the place with his own two hands.”

“I love it even more now.” Madi would point out that you’re a sucker for a family story, and she would be right.

Jack is proud of the restoration and tasteful updates that have been done to the old place, an homage to the past. “Then you’ll love it when I tell you that they are buried up on that hill.” He chuckles, pointing to a little fenced off area around a large magnolia tree.

“Being a sentimental man runs in your family. I do like that.” When he pauses in sliding out of the Bronco to open your door and raises an eyebrow at you, you fluster. “Not that I assume you might be sentimental about me,” you clarify immediately. “Just that I appreciate a man who isn’t afraid to be passionate.”

“Sugar, that is something you’ll get to witness firsthand.” He promises as he climbs out and saunters around the front to help you out.

It’s a beautiful little place he’s got, and when he helps you out of the car you can see the wrap around porch does go all the way around, and that the house has been added on to in back. Maybe the second level was an add-on as well, you can’t quite tell. But it speaks to generations of love and stubbornness to stay here and add to this old place instead of moving or building new, and you like that. Loving and stubborn isn’t a bad combination by any means.

“Do you want a drink?” Jack offers. “Water, Coke?” He doesn’t just want to ply you with alcohol, so he offers other things, even though he is walking towards the bar cart in the corner.

“You can make two of whatever you’re drinking.” Whether that’s alcoholic or not, you have a feeling you’ll be putting your glass aside in favor of paying attention to other things soon enough.

“Hmmmm.” The countertop ice maker is put to use after you tell him this and Jack adds a little flair to his movements as combines orange vodka, pineapple juice and peach schnapps into a shaker and mixes it up before straining the cold alcoholic drink into two glasses and floats some blue raspberry vodka onto the top. “Here you go sugar.” He hands it to you with a wink.

“Do you have friends called Vodka and Schnapps, too?” It’s just a light tease, but he poured and mixed and assembled the drink so deliberately that you found yourself mesmerized by his movements. “Or one with the same name as whatever this drink is?”

“There are colleagues by those names.” He admits with a grin and takes a sip of his drink and groans in approval. “But this one was made just for you.” He hum. “I call this ‘Lick Her Right’.”

“Shit, Jack.” You end up smothering flustered giggles as you have your head at him and try a sip of the fruity sweet cocktail. It’s every bit as delicious as you expected and doesn’t taste a thing like alcohol — which probably means it’s the strongest drink you’ve had all day.

He chuckles at your cute little giggle. “Sweet with just a touch of twang,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you and leaning in to nuzzle his nose against your cheek next to your ear. “Just like the best pussy.” He murmurs in your ear. “Like I’m betting your pussy tastes.”

“Need you to do one thing for me before I let you find out,” you murmur, finding that just as you expected you’ve only had a few sips of the drink before something much more enticing has been presented to you.

“And what’s that, sugar?” Right now, he will offer you the moon. Give you whatever he needs to be able to strip off those tiny shorts of yours and drape your legs over his shoulders for a private Independence Day celebration.

“You’re gonna need to kiss me, cowboy.”

He laughs, tossing his head back and reaching up to take off his hat. “Much obliged to, sugar.” He promises before he swoops in for a kiss, his tongue still cold and fruity from the cocktail as he slides it into your mouth.

He’s playful and enthusiastic, two things you all but demand from a lover, and your arms slide around each other with greedy intensity as the rest of the room goes blank around you.

Jack’s drink is all but forgotten when he sets it on the table and pulls you closer, letting your body press against his as he plunders your mouth and groans in happiness that you accepted his invitation to come back to his place.

The half-wall behind you becomes the perfect thing to lean back against as Jack presses in, holding you as close as he is holding the last shred of decency you’ve got as you plunder each other’s mouths eagerly. You’re damn lucky your glasses didn’t get so thoroughly tossed aside that they fell over and stained his rug, but right now all you care about is chasing that sticky sweet taste from each other’s tongues.

His hands slide under your tiny little tank top, fingers pinching the back of your bra strap and unhooking it with one hand while the other slides under the cup to posses one breast. Keeping his tongue tangled with yours as he moans at the soft fullness of it, the hard nipple against his palm.

It's so smooth you might have barely noticed the movement at all, except his hands are hot and callused and the touch of them on your skin makes you moan into the messy kiss with enthusiasm. Nothing but the perfect heat and heaviness of him can penetrate your mind at this point — and that includes the heaviness growing hard in his own shorts as you both do your best to stay as pressed against the other's body as possible.

Jack presses his cock against your tiny shorts, grinding into you as he paws and plucks at your tit, pulling the most beautiful sounds from your throat as he slides his other hand to your neglected breast to give it the same treatment.

Pressed between Jack and the wall, your own hands wander freely. Mapping his body from broad shoulders down to slim waist, there is no hesitation there when you slide one hand into the back pocket of his shorts and pull him forward, inviting him to grind into you just as much as he likes as he swallows your moans.

There’s nothing wrong with a little over the clothing humping in Jack’s mind. Grinding against you and squeezing your tits as he kisses you is just the warm up for the night, although it feels pretty fucking good as you pull him closer.

The world has gone the most gorgeous shade of blank, narrowing down to just Jack, and when you finally can’t breathe in any more of him and have to break the kiss for air, the matching groans you let out are sweeter than any other sound.

You’re gorgeously giving and soft. Yielding to him. He reluctantly releases one breast and pulls back just a bare two inches to slide his hand between to you pop the button open on your shorts. His hand immediately sliding inside to delve into your panties.

“Fucking—” The rest of the curse, whatever it is, gets swallowed up by your moan as his thick fingers make quick work of finding your slick and swollen clit to draw circles around it that have you seeing double.

You’re wet and nothing is sexier to Jack than a wet pussy on an eager woman. He groans into your mouth. “Already so wet.” He rasps. “Want to see how much wetter you can get.”

“Before I dehydrate?” You huff, growling into a kiss with ferocity and angling your hips to try to get him to slide his fingers inside you. Not that it’s been very long at all since he first kissed you, but you’re on fire with wanting him and have been for hours. “Or before you finally fuck me?”

He chuckles into your mouth and bites at your lower lip. “Both?” He teases, rubbing your clit again before he finally gives you what you want and slowly sinks two fingers into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Shaking as he twists his wrist and presses the heel of his palm against your clit, you’re even more pinned against the wall behind you than you were a second ago. Far from finding it confining, your fingers dig into Jack’s broad shoulders with enthusiasm as you cling to him in that moment.

“That’s it.” He groans, feeling your walls pulse around his fingers and he hums in approval. “You’re little pussy likes my fingers.” He coos. “Why don’t you cum on them for me?”

If you could ever cum on command, it would probably be right now. It would be for the pair of thick fingers curled so perfectly inside your cunt every time he pumps them inside you that your vision whites out a little at the edges. It would be for the man who makes you simultaneously tense and limp with need. As it is, your toes are curling in your sneakers and you're about damn ready to flood his hand any second while the only sound you can make as an incoherent moan.

“Sugar, sugar, sugar.” He groans. “You’re so close.” He continues to finger you, loving how your eyes are rolling back. “Just let go and give it to me.” He begs. “I want to strip you down and eat your pussy, but I can’t until you cum for me.”

The absolute whimper of frustration on your lips and hearing what's coming next mighty really be what does it. What has you moaning his name into the warm evening air and holding onto him so tightly that your fingernails leave neat little half-moon shapes at the base of his skull. When you cum it's full force, with shaking legs and an arching back, and all you can think — when you eventually get your thoughts back after the fireworks subside in all your nerves — is how fucking glad you are that you took a chance on going home with this man.

Jack loves to see a woman cum. Always beautiful and you are no exception. The hollow of your throat is the perfect place to moan his praise, the white shorts he’s wearing becoming damp and showing it as he leaks pre-cum into the material. His fingers are soaked and making the most obscene sounds as he pumps them into your cunt until your entire body sags against the wall and is only held upright by his pinning you there. Then he slows his wrist and ease you to a stop as you pant his name. “Good girl.” Jack rasps against your throat. “Now I want to see what kind of mess your pussy made.”

“You’re gonna have to give me a second,” you huff, giggling under your own breath and a little dizzy. If he can do that with his hand, the rest of him is going to reduce you to a puddle. “Stripping is tricky when my legs are wobbly.”

He chuckles and pulls his hand out of your shorts to grab your thighs. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.” He promises, pulling you up into his arms and guiding your legs around his waist as he pulls away from the wall to carry you through the house to his bedroom.

It only encourages you, which you’re sure was his intention, you steal kisses and swoon at this strength as you carries you down a hallway. By the time he turns into his room you’ve found the spot on the long column of his throat that makes him moan when you suck on it, and the bruise you’ve left there will be sure you remind of you every time he looks in a mirror for at least the next few days.

Jack’s bed is large, inviting and it’s not as heavily masculine as you might expect. The comforter is pillowy when he lays you down and smirks as he pulls back to look at you. “Now it’ll be easy to strip you down and not worry about those legs, except for how they look on my shoulders.” He boasts.

“I think I’m past the point in my dignity where I can dispute that,” you tease, wishing he hadn’t stood up fully because now he’s too far away for you to grab.

Jack unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off his shoulders. Revealing the shape of his hard cock pressing through the white shorts and he grins down at you. “We will just have to have an undignified time then.”

“Deeply undignified, I hope.” You agree, letting your eyes wander down the length of his body and darken all over again at the sight of what is waiting for you.

“Is there any other kind of sex?” Jack snorts, quickly unbuttoning and stripping down his shorts to groan in relief when his cock bounces free.

If you were going to debate with him, whatever argument you had gets lost on your tongue. He's a mouthwatering sight — veiny, cut, and curved just right so you know you're not only going to have him pulsing against your g-spot later but you're going to be cross-eyed and breathless while he's at it. "Fuck I hope not," you grin, licking your lips. "At least not tonight."

He smirks proudly and kneels on the bed, shuffling closer to reach for your shorts. He drags them over your hips along with your panties while you lift your hips so he can slide them down your legs and toss them on the floor. Eager to spread your thighs and get a good look at that slick pussy.

Sure it was only five minutes ago that your legs were shaking in his living room, but when he very surely moves your ankles to open your legs wide on top of his bed, your fingers drop between your spread legs without hesitation. His eyes on your pussy have you craving touch all over again.

There’s only your shirt left and Jack hates for the material to conceal your tits from his eyes, so he slides his hands up, grabbing the hem of it to pull over your head, unable to resist dipping his head down and lapping at a hard nipple.

It was barely a scrap of a shirt and this is so much better — tits free for his attention and back arching up to meet his mouth just as eagerly as he dips his head. The cool air in his room makes your already hard nipples peak even tighter, but all you can think about is the heat of his mouth and the heaviness against your thigh. Every inch of him feels incredible and he's not even inside you yet.

He lavished attention on one, then the other before he pulls away with a pop and a grin as he starts to slink back down your body. Intentions clear as he scrapes his teeth over the top of your mound and pulls your legs up onto his shoulders to cradle his head.

"Jack..." his name is a whine from your lips as he kisses the insides of his thighs, and one of your hands fists in his hair to tug encouragingly at the short strands.

He chuckles and blows a little air on your pussy to hear you whine again, your hips jerking up to try to meet his mouth. “Now, let’s get down to the business at hand.” He intones seriously. “You’ve got a pretty pussy that is begging to be eaten.” He looks up into your eyes and winks. “And I’m just the cowboy for the job.”

He dives in like a man starved, making you feel like every single woman whose pussy he tried to eat over the years must have denied him otherwise there wouldn't be any reason to be this voracious. That first lap at your slit has you gasping sharply, eyes rolling back in your head and tugging tighter on his hair in needy, silent gratitude. You'll be lucky if you can form any words beyond his name in all this. His name and endless repetitions of 'yes' or 'fuck'. But that's all you need.

Anything that Jack sets out to do, he does with vigor and eating your pussy is no different. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling your hips up to his month as he devours you. Wanting to feel the sting of your hands pulling at his hair while his tongue carves a path through your folds.

He means to overwhelm your senses entirely and he's doing a damn good job, right down to how tightly he manages to hold you in place while he leaves no part of your soaking wet pussy untouched. Maybe at another time you might have fought of wrestled or taken some of the lead, but he's swept you away so entirely today that all of your usual sass is reduced to whimpers and moans under his attention. Probably because the attention of that long tongue of his is well worth submitting to.

He had been right, you do taste delicious. Making him even more ravenous as he explores what makes you whimper and whine his name as his tongue laps at your swollen clit.

Every time your hips twist or roll to beg for a specific kind of friction. he seems to be anticipating it. He reads the waves of your body like it's a second language, intuiting what you need and giving it to you with growls and groans of his own that vibrate through you and make you see wave after wave of stars.

His mustache is coated with your juices, his chin slick with them, and still he continues to devour you. Licking into you and pushing his tongue into your pussy like he is starved for you, his hooked nose pressed against your clit as he groans in pleasure.

It doesn’t matter how long you lay spread out like this. Or how long Jack spends devouring you like you’re his new favorite dessert. The walls could crumble down around you and you would still be begging for more.

Jack can feel your body start to tense, your thighs tightening around his head briefly and then relaxing only to do it again. He holds them loosely, wanting you to squeeze him and he rolls his tongue back up to your clit to lap at it.

The second time you cum for him isn't like being carried away on an ocean wave. Even the arch of your back is like being washed out to sea, and the roaring of your blood in your ears making you feel like you've just crashed on top of a wave in some dramatic engraving. It's like all of your senses are both being hugged tight and being blasted wide open and you're drowning in every sensation but your nerves are tingling with life as you float back down to earth in his bed.

Humming softly, the pads of his thumbs rub your inner thighs, soothing you as your breath starts to slow down. You had screamed loud enough to wake the dead. A feat that has Jack feeling mighty smug as he watches your closed eyes bounce around under your lids.

"Fucking hell," you manage, once you stop panting and have the presence of mind to push up on your elbows to be able to see him more fully.

Smirking up at you, he winks as he unfurls himself from between your thighs to rest on his knees. “How are we doing so far?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. “Feeling patriotic yet? Or should we really make you see fireworks?”

"I think we'd both be missing out if we gave up now." After all, you've barely done a thing for him. And if his cock feels half as good as it looks, you refuse to miss out on that.

“I have to admit, I’m dying to know what you feel like around my cock.” Jack confesses, his hand squeezing his cock and pumping it lightly.

"I think it's time for you to find out." There is a smirk curling in the corner of your mouth as you sit up, and with one hand beckon him closer. "Don't you?"

“Yes ma’am.” He hums. “Do you want to save or horse, or see if I can hold on for eight seconds?” His brow arches in question and he wonders what you will say.

“On your back, Jack.” You grin up at him, already shifting over to switch places. Even if this isn’t where you end up, you want to ride that handsome cowboy for at least a little while.

“Never say I don’t follow a lady’s orders.” Jack drawls as he lays down, tucking one hand behind his head and the other still pumping his cock languidly.

“Not if you know what’s good for you.” That smirk stays in place as you straddle his hips and lift yourself up, braced for your cunt to be so wet from his attention that he slides inside you right up to your throat.

Jack helps, holding his cock up for you line up. “Take your time, sugar.” He coos, watching you with a predatory gaze. “It takes time to make sure you are seated right.”

“Not too long.” A moan escapes your lips as you sink down, but you take him at a slow, steady pace. “I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.”

“And here I thought I couldn’t be the one to break your dry streak.” He teases, having read your lips from the margarita stand with the assistance of his glasses. He had turned off the special features before he put them on your nose earlier.

“Were you spyin’ on me earlier?” The best you can do with him halfway inside you is to raise one eyebrow as if you vaguely disapprove, but it doesn’t hold a single drop of water when you let out a shuddering little gasp and take more.

“I can read lips.” He admits with a grin. “Don’t worry, sugar, I didn’t hold it against you. Just made me want you more.”

"Now I feel like I ought to have made it harder for you," you purr, but the truth is that he'd had you from the first real smile. Not the smirks, not the intrigue of just being handsome in general. The first time Jack genuinely smiled at you, you had felt your heart beat a little faster. Now it's your pussy that's reacting to him, though, and you shift your weight to lean back and give him a long view of your whole body as you start to bounce on his cock. Whatever his reason for being interested in you, it is well worth it.

“Jesus Christ.” Jack hisses, sliding his hands up to your tits again. “You are such a pretty thing, so fucking beautiful.” He groans, admiring the view as you use him.

"View can't be as good as mine." Panting between each word is the only way to get them out, because your mind is so fuzzy all over again from how good he feels that all you can focus on is how well he fills you.

He would have to disagree, but you steal his ability to speak when you roll your hips and squeeze him tight. All he can do is groan and squeeze your tits harshly before sliding his hands down to your hips.

"Hold on, handsome." It doesn't take more than a few movements of your hips to establish a rhythm, and one that you're both thoroughly enjoying. With Jack's fingers curling insistently into your flesh, you pick up the pace and let your eyes slide shut in bliss.

Jack groans your name again and again when you fully seat him inside you. Giving you the encouragement and praise through the panted words.

It's a damn good thing that his bed isn't an antique like his house. Once you get going, with his encouragements and your own seemingly insatiable thirst for this man, it would be a damn shame to sacrifice an heirloom to your shared lust. The sheer power and force of your enthusiasm with his strength makes it feel like you're going to fuck each other into the stratosphere to begin with, there's no reason to lose furniture.

“That’s it, sugar.” Jack slaps your flank in encouragement and moans when you roll your hips down at little harder. “Fuck, you do know how to ride a man, don’t you?” He counts his lucky stars you wanted to come home with him. “Ride me hard.”

He might have been the one to make the joke about lasting the length of the ride, but you have no intention of getting bucked while you're on him. The prominent veins of his cock scrub your walls like they were made for you, bringing deeps moans and shuddering growls of his name from your lips with every bounce and rock of your body on his.

Bracing his feet on the bed, Jack tilts his hips up, changing the angle and he chokes out a sound of approval when you squeal in pleasure. “There it is.”

It's the exact angle you need to have the head of his cock battering against your g-spot with just the right amount of pressure, and right now you're prepared to swear that no one has ever managed to find the spot that perfectly before. Just like his fingers curling against it earlier, your vision whites out as your eyes slide shut again and you could swear this is what being on fire feels like as you cry his name out in that quiet little farmhouse.

When your pace stalls, Jack picks up the slack. Driving up into you while your walls convulse and you shake on top of him. Groaning out your name raspily as he works himself towards that same peak you are currently cresting.

It's so easy to fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest with both hands and letting him take over the pace. Your third orgasm ripples through you so sharply and definitively that you practically scream, but his arms are there to catch you and pin you to his chest while he races toward his own pleasure.

It only takes a few driving thrusts until his holding you tight, locking his arms around you and grinding up into you. Your name is moaned into his ear as he floods your fluttering pussy with his cum. “Fuck sugar.” He groans. “Little pussy is milking my cock like a dream.”

"I'm afraid..." You're both panting, and you rest your forehead on his rising chest for a beat and giggle to yourself. The flow of endorphins is making you feel so light you could fly. "I've been neglecting her. She was hungry."

“Pussy like that needs to be seen to frequently.” Jack chuckles breathlessly and strokes your back as the sweat clinging to your bodies starts to dry and cool. “I’ll be happy to make sure that happens.”

"Oh yeah?" In the bliss of the moment, when you pull back to look him in the eye, it's like you're seeing a completely different side of the needy and addictive man who was pushing you up against a wall a mere hour ago. This Jack is soft at the edges, boyish and gleeful, not to mention beautifully relaxed as he cradles your body against him. "Thinkin' about asking me out, cowboy?"

“Considering it.” He admits before that soft smile curves into more of a smirk. “I think it would be my patriotic booty to keep you satisfied.” It’s the repeat of the joke from earlier, but completely worth it because of how cheesy it is. “What do you say, sugar?” He asks. “Want to make everyday Independence Day?”

"I think it's only right." Stretching slightly, the tip of your nose nearly touches his and you dip your head barely lower to hover above his mouth. A single centimeter of movement and you would be kissing him. "It'd be a damn shame to never ride my new favorite steed again."

“Damn shame.” He agrees. Since you’ve been in his house, the sun has slipped below the horizon and he reaches up to cup your cheek just as the first muted boom of the fireworks from Statesman is heard. “Happy Fourth of July, sugar.” Jack murmurs before he crushes his lips to yours, happy that he had decided to go to the celebration rather than taking a mission. He had never had a better Fourth than this one.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Kingsman Golden Circle #Fourth of July fic #Independence Day

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dissapointu · 8 days ago

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Ekko with an S/O Headcanons (Appearance, Personality, and a Touch of Smut)

Appearance Headcanons

• Vivid Personal Style: You have a bold and urban aesthetic, mixing streetwear with subtle artistic details. Whether it’s layered jackets, patched jeans, or brightly colored sneakers, your look screams individuality. Ekko loves how your outfits feel like an extension of your personality.

• Piercings/Tattoos: If you have tattoos or piercings, Ekko is endlessly fascinated by them. He often runs his fingers over your tattoos or admires the glint of light off your piercings, thinking they add even more character to you.

• Expressive Eyes: Your eyes always seem to tell a story—whether they light up with excitement or narrow with determination. Ekko loves getting lost in them, even during the rare quiet moments you share.

• Hands That Tell Your Story: Whether they’re calloused from hard work or ink-stained from creative endeavors, your hands show your passions, and Ekko finds them mesmerizing.

Personality Headcanons

• Independent and Resourceful: You’ve learned to rely on yourself in the tough streets of Zaun, and Ekko admires your ability to adapt and thrive no matter the odds.

• Quick-Witted: Your sharp tongue and clever comebacks keep Ekko on his toes. He loves bantering with you, the playful verbal sparring often leading to smirks and laughter.

• Compassionate but Fierce: Beneath your toughness is a big heart. Whether it’s looking out for Zaun’s kids or standing up for what’s right, your determination to protect others mirrors Ekko’s own values.

• Creative Soul: You’re inventive and artistic, whether it’s through drawing, crafting, or coming up with clever solutions to problems. Ekko loves bouncing ideas off you, knowing you’ll always add your unique flair.

• Adventurous Spirit: You have a knack for turning everyday moments into adventures, whether it’s exploring Zaun’s forgotten alleys or creating impromptu games with the Firelights.

Relationship Dynamics

• Shared Dreams: You and Ekko share a deep connection through your hopes for Zaun. Late-night talks about how to make things better for your community strengthen your bond.

• Mutual Respect: There’s an unspoken understanding between you two. You recognize Ekko’s responsibility as the leader of the Firelights, and he admires your resilience and drive to carve your own path.

• Playful Rivalry: You both love a little friendly competition—whether it’s sparring, racing through Zaun, or seeing who can craft the better invention.

• Affectionate Moments: Though he’s often busy, Ekko always makes time for you. From pulling you close while working on a project to leaving small tokens like flowers or trinkets for you to find, his love is shown in quiet but meaningful ways.

• Protective Streak: While he respects your strength, Ekko can’t help but be protective, especially when danger arises. If anyone tries to mess with you, they’ll quickly learn why he’s the leader of the Firelights.

Smutty Bits

• Tension from Busy Days: With both of you having your responsibilities, it’s not uncommon for long stretches apart to lead to heated reunions. Ekko’s kisses are intense, fueled by the time you’ve spent away, his hands eager to memorize every inch of you.

• Passion in the Quiet Moments: When the chaos dies down, Ekko takes his time with you. His touch is slow, deliberate, as if savoring every second. He’s attentive, focusing entirely on your pleasure, his low voice murmuring praises against your skin.

• Adventurous Streak: Ekko loves a bit of spontaneity. Whether it’s stealing moments in hidden corners of Zaun or whispering daring suggestions in your ear during a late-night Firelight gathering, he keeps things exciting.

• Unyielding Focus: Once he has you alone, he’s fully present. He loves learning what makes you tick, paying attention to every gasp and moan as he explores you with both curiosity and confidence.

• Aftercare King: Once the intensity subsides, Ekko’s gentle side shines. He’ll pull you into his chest, whisper sweet nothings, and run his fingers through your hair as he holds you close, the world outside fading away.

#arcane ekko #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #ekko lol #ekko league of legends #ekko #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon

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rynfiles · 1 year ago

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dad next door !

✎ᝰ — your brand-new apartment has brought you peace, calm, and freedom. but no one mentioned of a father of a two

★ — satoru gojo x gn!reader

★ — word count: 1.6k

★ — genre + warnings: fluff + dad!gojo, gojo is in his early twenties (21-23), gojo is a nervous mess, megumi and his smart antics, tsumiki is y/n’s number one fan

The space is small, yet livable. Your new apartment brings you this sense of freedom and independence from your loving, yet overbearing, parents. As much as you love them dearly, the thought of continuing to live under their roof was going to drive you mad. Which led to your brand new apartment, not the best but you made do with your stay.

As you continue to unpack your things, you hear noises coming from the other side of your living room wall. You ignored them by putting on your headphones and playing music as time passed.

Yet some hours passed, only three, and the noise continued. You moved closer to the wall to decipher what was creating such a loud noise. The only thing you could make out was a loud TV, yelling from multiple people you assume, and children. Your heart grew soft and sympathy grew in your heart for the assumed noise of children, since you know how children can be, especially at young ages when their emotions run rampant.

Though, as much as children softened your heart, the noise was becoming unbearable and you wanted your first day in your apartment to be perfect. You planned to be nice, introduce yourself, and ask your neighbor to possibly lower the noise coming from their apartment.

You paused your music and took off your headphones. You grabbed your phone and headed out the door, only making a few steps to your left until you reached the next apartment door.

You knocked gently, as you waited you heard the noise more clearly. You realized it was an adult and a child going back and forth while the TV was playing a children’s show. You heard some of the argument and giggled to yourself at some of the insults that were sent.

You continued to wait yet the door hadn’t opened nor had there been any indication that someone was going to open. You knocked again, a bit louder this time, and someone, you assumed was the adult, yelled that they were coming. Not long after, the door was opened and you were met with a man who had a staggering height, but that didn’t bother you.

The man had hair as white as the winter snow, which was decorated with those ball scrunchies and small heart clips that should be found on a small girl, not a grown (potentially over twenty) man. He wore a fitted tank top that had a dad joke on it and black shorts to accompany the outfit. His face in particular was graced with lashes that were thick and lay beautifully above his blue eyes. Also, his youthful face is currently covered in stickers galore, many of dinosaurs and flowers.

He greeted you with a smile, it brought youth to his face and gave sincerity, and apologies for taking so long to answer.

You reassured him that he was okay and also introduced yourself. You explained to him how you were his neighbor but also reported to him the noise from his apartment was bothering you. You tried not to come off as rude, since it is your first day.

He apologizes almost too quickly, mild stutters as he speaks, “Sorry sorry, my two- I mean these two kids have been hauling my ass since seven am.”

“I assumed it was younger children that were in there. Though, could you do me a favor and turn down the TV as well? The whole apartment doesn’t need to hear what you guys are watching.”

The man turns in the direction of the TV and lightly smacks his forehead, “Ah, that must’ve been Tsumiki with her runway model shows. I don’t know why but she always excuses that she has terrible hearing and always has the TV-”

“What about Tsumiki?” A young boy with spiked hair appears behind the man. The boy wears an expression that debates whether to tussle with the tall man or mind his business. With his presence now here, he chose the first option. Yet the stickers and hair clips placed on his hair and face don’t make him serious enough to take.

“Kid-”

The boy scrunched his face, showing a sign of annoyance to the man in front of him. “My name is Megumi, Meh-gu-mi. Don’t try to be all “mister cool” cause you think our new neighbor is hot.”

The man’s jaw dropped and all you could giggle at the compliment that was given. You spot his cheeks beaming with a light shade of red but disregard it as the man clears his throat. “Megumi, do me a favor and stay out of adult spaces.”

The boy sucked his teeth, “You were literally a child not many years ago, in dog years if you count.” The boy mumbled the last part but it was loud enough for the older man to hear.

The two males continue to go back and forth until a small girl approaches next to the small boy. From the height alone she could be the eldest of the two children, and her face was also decorated with stickers. It was cute to see the tall male and the two children behind him covered in all kinds of stickers on their face and their hair styled in hair clips.

The girl comes over to see what all the commotion is. But instead, she turns to you and immediately starts complimenting you, she smiles with such fondness to your beauty. She starts to compliment your hair, even if it is simple for the busy day, your outfit, and how you look so perfect. She believes so deeply that you came out of a magazine and all you could do was thank her and smile back. The girl just seemed all admired about you, even if she only met you about two minutes ago.

She turns to the older male to ask, “Can they join us for dinner papa Gojo?”

The boy scoffs at the question, “Don’t give him any ideas, he might scare the new neighbor away.” The blushing from earlier returns and the older man, named Gojo (?), seems to be slightly offended at the boy's remark.

The girl ignores the boy and pleads with Gojo, you continue to watch the two children and the man banter with one another. The interaction seemed to look serious from an outsider’s perspective, but up close, it was adorable watching them interact. Even if the boy seemed very annoyed with the entire situation, the girl poked his cheeks and played with his hair to uplift his mood, while the man told the two children to turn down the TV and check on the food cooking.

Gojo brings his attention back to you and smiles nervously, he laughs nervously as well. He brings his hand to comb through the back of his hair, “Sorry about them, they’re not usually this noisy on a Friday afternoon. Especially Megumi, he’s usually playing with his figures with Tsumiki, never this intrusive.”

“Don’t worry, I have younger siblings and we bicker quite a lot, so I get it. But I will admit that you guys are an adorable little family.”

The man blushes quickly but tries to hide it quickly, “Ah, thank you.” He grows nervous and lets the air become this sense of nervousness. He will admit, he wouldn’t have thought to have a neighbor as stunning as you and comfortable around his children. Then again, his two children take too much of his time to even pay attention to the people in his environment.

He clears his throat, “Umm, you don’t have to join but Tsumiki, the little girl, is gonna keep asking about dinner and I’m already in trouble with her. If you don’t mind, you don’t have to, but you can join us for dinner if you’re not too busy.” The blushing on his cheeks stayed yet you notice his ears turning into a light hue of pink as well, nervousness is ruining this man.

You think for a little while, letting the man watch you think and his face shows more and more signs of nervousness. You answer with a nod and a small smile, “I don’t mind at all. It would be nice to learn some faces in this town.”

Gojo seems more than happy to hear your acceptance, “We’d love to welcome you, Tsumiki loves making new friends and Megumi could get a friend or two. Geez this kid.”

You gave a small laugh and thanked him, you turned to make your exit until Gojo stopped you. “Oh umm, by-by the way, I didn’t get to properly introduce myself. I’m Gojo, umm Satoru Gojo. I’m right next door, literally, if you need anything.”

“Oh thanks, it was nice talking to you Satoru, and your two kids I assume, Megumi and Tsumiki?” The way you said his first name had Gojo going from a blushing mess to a flustered, stuttering mess. He feels heat rising in his cheeks and ears, embarrassment adds in as thinks that he shouldn’t be this nervous around his new neighbor.

“Yeah, that’s their name.” He pauses and lets his nervousness settle between the two of you, “Umm, well it was great to meet you y/n, and uhh gotta get back to finishing dinner, two hungry children aren’t the prettiest sight to see.”

“I would love to be the judge of that tonight,” you turn to walk away from his doorway and wave him goodbye, “have a good day Satoru, see you tonight.”

Gojo waves back and closes the door once you step into your apartment. He roughly combs through his hair and sighs heavily, “I don’t know who’s gonna end me first, these damn kids or dinner with y/n.”

★ I got this fanfic idea from this fanart actually ! I thought gojo and the kids were so cute with their stickers and clips on their face and hair 🫶🏽

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gen4grl · 6 months ago

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my johto timeskip designs + bios/teams below!

i think about this group ALOT!!! if i had any confidence in writing i would easily share the whole hgss rewrite i have in my head but alas… just take my drawings instead! i like to give characters more “realistic” outfits… not really a modern au? i love to imagine the pokemon world with all our worlds pop culture which inspires my designs! long post but enjoy!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

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lyra + 20. champion ranked trainer

♡ Raised by her single mother, aunt and older cousin Kris in the small New Bark home. Her father died when she was 6 in a mining incident involving Team Rocket. Bubbles, her ace Azumarill, was gifted to Lyra by her father on her 5th birthday - being her final gift from him.

♡ Extremely outgoing, sweetly optimistic and immensely empathic. Absolutley loves making friends and talking to every kind of person. However, is extremely competitive & stubbon and gets frustrated easily - resulting in her giving up quickly but is also extremely quick to be re-motivated. Often feels the emotions of others intensely. Very country girl with an extremely strong Johtoian accent and lisp. Loves 'girly' things like makeup + fashion, period dramas and collecting nick-nacks but also loves spending her days outdoors, espcially in the National Park with Ethan watching the bug-catching contests or the Safari Zone.

♡ Struggled with her battle confidence as a young trainer which resulted in her having to re-battle Falkner and Bugsy several times. Over her journey grew an appreciation for pokemon perceived to be 'weak' & cute and built her team around showing the powers of these types of pokemon. Despite being a Champion Ranked trainer, Lyra opted to work with Ethans grandparents at the daycare center where she specialises in pokemon breeding and training weaker pokemon + their trainers.

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silver + 23. champion ranked trainer

♡ Only child of Rocket Boss, Giovanni. Was born and raised on Island 5 of the Sevii Islands by multiple admins, most commonly Archer before running away to Johto. Has a deep rooted and consistent fear that he’ll never amount to anything but “Giovanni's kid”. Was extremely tight lipped about his upbringing to the trio, especially after learning of his loose connection to Lyras father’s passing. Finally told them the truth of his family after the defeat and final disbandment of Team Rocket.

♡ Originally extremely standoffish, condescending and at times, aggressive. As an adult is still quite serious and independent, but genuinely enjoys the time he spends with his friends and is surprisingly protective of them - especially Lyra and Kris. As time passed, his anger towards his father evolved more into guilt, however, over the years has become more patient, gentle and forgiving with not only others but himself. He still can come off quite intimidating to strangers, but these changes are noticeably visible to those close to him. While usually a quiet person, has a very dry and witty sense of humour that takes most people by surprise.

♡ Mentored by Lance, and later Blue, and spends a large amount of time training in the Dragons Den. While unsure of what direction he wants his life to go into, Lance is adamant he would make a fantastic gym leader or elite four member. Always accompanies Lyra to the yearly Champion Balls and Alola trips. Currently lives in a small beachside bungalow with Lyra in Cherrygrove where he enjoys spending his free time reading and teaching himself guitar.

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ethan + 21

♡ The childhood friend of Lyra, Ethan was raised by his father and grandparents in New Bark. Extremely courteous, friend & family oriented and easy to talk to. A natural comic and can make even the straightest face people crack a slight smile - Red being his proudest achievement. Lax and slightly ditsy but can adapt to any situation and group of people like a flick of a switch. Not the best at articulating himself but always puts 110% into making sure people feel comfortable through his actions.

♡ Completed the 8 Johto gyms but never challenged the Elite Four & Lance in favour for persuing his true passions. Currently works at the Goldenrod Radio Tower where he co-hosts a program consisting of interviewing gym leaders, elite four, champions and other prolific battlers. At nights, does standup in the clubs in the Goldenrod Tunnel. Due to his easy-going nature and career, tends to knows everyone’s buisness + gossip and has crazy experiences with nearly any person imaginable.

♡ Currently lives in a small loft in Goldenrod. Spends his free time watching anime + cartoons or in the National Park either watching the Bug Contests, skating or talking to the old folks. Enjoys the nightlife of Goldenrod where he usually pulls Silver out to bar hop or spend hours playing Voltorb Flip.

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kris + 25

♡ Oldest and mother figure of the group. Was born and grew up in New Bark town with her mother before her cousin Lyra + aunt moved in with them when she was 11. The two shared the large upstairs bedroom growing up where Kris introduced Lyra to contests and the annual Champion & Wallace cups.

♡ Mature, soft spoken and extremely intellegent - both academically and socially. Because of this, can offer solutions on any issue on both a practical and emotional level, no matter the person and situation. Has unique relationships with all three kids but in general sees them as her younger siblings and takes the role as the 'older sister' very seriously. Has a warm and comforting presence, making those even to the likes of Silver feel comfortable confinding in her.

♡ Quite reserved and struggled with her purpose and sexuality growing up, espcially in rural Johto. After the death of her uncle and seeing her daughter’s interests in the Wallace Cups and contests, her mother moved the two to the Hoenn region, settling in Lilycove City when Kris was 13. While starting her gym challenge in the new region, Kris fell in love with Hoenn's unique weather patterns and ecosystems. Eventually she quit the gym challenge to peruse a career as a meteorologist where she now works at the weather institute. When not working, she enjoys attending contests, museums and scuba diving. Finally feeling settled in life, she came out to her family + the trio when she was 20.

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#pokemon #trainer lyra #rival silver #trainer ethan #trainer kris #pokemon hgss #soulsilvershipping #tried to give each character a little reference to something they like?#lyra with an azumarill phone case! silvers shirt is a direct reference of bathorys self titled album! ethan with the dragon ball shirt and #south park skateboard and kris’s bag is the rain badge bc she’s a massive fan of wallace :p #ooooo and her sweater vest is also inspired by wallaces rse outfit & colours!!! she’s got a tan now from the hoenn weather:)#lyra also incorporated the silver wing into her bracelet and silver is wearing the rainbow feather!#lyra was heavily inspired by kfashion + beauty silver is a metalhead ethan is a walking cartoon network advertisement & kris is a 80s mumma #flat rendering bc I could not be ASSED going all out lol saturation high bc it suits everyone’s vibe (maybe not silvers lol)#i always hc’d lyra having a shiny t-tar and was shook when masters gave silver one😭😭😭 they watching out for me and sss i geuss!!!#my anxiety + fear of posting art has come back at FULL force it’s very annoying😭 i also can not write so anything like this makes me #stressed ahhhhh i tried to keep it as similar as possible to my old sv timeskip designs!#pkmn #pokemon gsc #lyra pokemon #silver pokemon #ethan pokemon #kris pokemon #johto au #hgss #pokemon art #pokemon fanart #my art <3

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sycamorelibrary754 · 27 days ago

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Trick or Treat

Summary: You and Natasha celebrate Nikolai’s first Halloween with your family and friends.

Pairings: Natasha x Reader, Avengers x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: As always, this story can be enjoyed independently, but if you're curious about the family's rich backstory, check out my ‘Home is Anywhere You Are’ Holiday Series. Happy Halloween!

The digital clock cast a faint blue light in your dimly lit bedroom. You gathered all the necessary sewing supplies from your closet and carefully retrieved the baby monitor from your nightstand. Natasha was still lost in slumber, and you were determined to keep it that way. Her late-night training sessions meant she often didn't return from the compound until midnight. "So much for semi-retirement," you thought with a wry smile. Nevertheless, it allowed you time to get started on your family’s Halloween costumes before Nikolai woke up. He had recently started sleeping longer stretches at night, so you knew you had a small window to work.

You and Nat decided to channel your inner witches and style your costumes after your all-time favorite Halloween film, Hocus Pocus. The plan was for you, Natasha, and Yelena to dress up as the Sanderson sisters while baby Nikolai would be Max. As you looked at images from the movie on your iPad, you heard a tiny meow from the corner of the room. Liho hurried into the room and hopped onto the loveseat beside you.

You couldn't help but smile and say, "Your Binx costume looks great, Liho. Did you make it yourself?"

You carefully began to measure and cut up the softest, coziest fabrics, envisioning the adorable little costume you would create for Nikolai's first Halloween. It felt like just yesterday that you had unexpectedly given birth to Nik at the Barton's on Easter, but seven months had flown by in the blink of an eye. He was reaching a new milestone every day, getting closer to crawling and constantly scooting across the floor in his adorable army-crawl style. Natasha couldn't resist capturing every precious moment on her phone, and she filled the team group chat continuously with Nik's videos and photos.

You wanted Halloween to be just as magical as it was when you were a kid. Your mom used to handcraft all of your Halloween costumes, and now, as a mom yourself, you understand just how unique that tradition was. You've never been as skilled with a sewing machine as your mother, but you're giving it a shot.

"Ouch," you hiss as a bobby pin pricks your fingers. Well, if anything, the blood spots might add to the spooky charm of the costumes.

An hour later, you could see the fruits of your labor taking shape. The room was filled with the colorful fabric of the costumes, each piece carefully pinned into place. You had meticulously sewn the primary layer of each outfit. Each stitch was a step closer to bringing your creative vision to life.

“Hey there," a familiar, raspy voice said.

You looked up and saw your wife shuffling into the room. Her socked feet padded along the floor, and sleep was still evident in her eyes.

"Good morning, honey," you said, kissing her lips. "I thought I’d start the Halloween costumes before Nik wakes up."

"Mmm," Nat hummed. "I’m looking forward to seeing how they turn out. I've never had a homemade costume before. Well, except for the ones Stark makes."

Nat settled into a nearby loveseat, tucking one leg under her body as she watched you work. The hum of the sewing machine filled the air as the needle danced up and down, leaving a trail of perfectly spaced stitches. Your fingers moved precisely, gently yet firmly guiding the fabric through the machine. Your movements were fluid and precise.

You paused to change the thread, and Nat saw the intricate patterns and textures unfolding on the fabric. Your focus was intent, and your brow was slightly furrowed in concentration. The air was filled with the scent of fabric, and the soft whir of the machine created a soothing background hum.

Suddenly, Nikolai’s soft whimper emitted from the baby monitor as if on cue.

“I guess that's the end of this work session,” you sighed, about to rise from your chair.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I got him,” Natasha said, touching your shoulder.

Thanks, sweetheart," you replied.

A few moments later, you heard Nik's bedroom door creak and Natasha's voice coming through the baby monitor.

"Good morning, my malen'kiy mal'chik

(little boy)," Nat said softly.

You could hear Nik responding to Natasha's voice with baby babbles.

"Hey, Nikolai. Look at my big boy! Did you have a nice sleep?" she asked.

You heard your wife humming a gentle Russian lullaby, the same one she had sung to him since he was born, before saying, "Shall we go see Mommy, huh? Let's go, little one.”

Natasha strolled into the room, gently holding your son in her arms. The little red bedhead hair on his head is a beautiful reminder of your wife.

"There's Nikolai!" you say with a smile. "Hi, baby."

Nik reaches for you, his Y/E/C eyes sparkling as he smiles at you and wiggles his legs.

As you hold your son in your arms, he reaches for a strand of your Y/E/C hair.

You carefully turned him around to face forward and asked, "Do you want to see your Halloween costume?"

You show Nikolai the purple tye-die fabric you used to sew his shirt, and he eagerly reaches for it, attempting to put it in his mouth.

"I think he approves," Natasha remarked with a smile.

*^~^*

After dedicating several more days to carefully sewing and enduring a few more pinpricks, you finally finished the Halloween costumes. On Halloween day, Yelena arrived early to play with Nikolai before the three of you got ready for the evening. It was going to be a quick night. Natasha had promised Melina and Alexi that you would stop at their place before heading to the compound for Tony’s annual team Halloween party. There would be enough time for everyone to dote on your son and maybe even sneak some candy for your secret chocolate stash that Nat pretends not to know about.

Nikolai was all set and looked adorable in Max’s vibrant tie-dye shirt, splashed with shades of purple, green, and red. The soft baby sweatpants added to his cozy ensemble, and to top it all off, he sported a pair of baby Nike Air sneakers.

Yelena called from the bedroom, “Okay, I am ready for my grand entrance.”

“Enter away,” Natasha yelled as you both sat cross-legged on the floor while Nik played on his Activity Play Mat.

Yelena made a vibrant entrance into the room, embodying the enchanting spirit of Sara Sanderson. Her stunning blend of pink and purple gown hugged her figure with a corset-style top that perfectly showcased her lively and playful energy. She truly stood out as the youngest and most captivating sister—something she delights in, reminding everyone after your deep dive into Hocus Pocus. A luxurious purple cloak draped elegantly over her shoulders while her long, flowing blonde hair tumbled down her back in soft waves. The finishing touch? A striking dark nude lipstick that added an alluring flair to her already magical look.

“Wow, you look fantastic, sestra!” Nat exclaimed.

Yelena shot back with a playful smirk, “I know, right? You outdid yourself, Y/N!”

You felt your cheeks heat, a mix of pride and a bit of shyness as you tried to brush off the compliment.

“Your turn, you two,” Yelena said. “I’ll wait here with the man of the house.”

You and Natasha scampered off to change into your costumes. Meanwhile, Yelena sat down next to Nikolai.

Yelena leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Let’s play along and rave about their costumes, but deep down, we both know mine’s the showstopper, right, little Nik?”

Your baby boy gurgled happily, his laughter bubbling over like a secret only they shared. in response.

"That's what I thought," she replied with a knowing smile.

“Okay, we’re ready!” Natasha called out a few minutes later, her voice echoing through the hall.

Yelena responded with equal enthusiasm, “So are we!”

Natasha was the first to enter the room, embodying Winnie's character. She wore a striking green-and-purple dress that flowed elegantly around her, the colors vivid and eye-catching. The matching cape billowed as she moved. The Hocus Pocus Spell Book was clutched in her hands, its worn cover hinting at countless magical secrets. She styled her red hair perfectly, teased it high, and held it in place with impressive hairspray, creating a dramatic silhouette. Excess blush on her cheeks gave her an almost doll-like appearance, while bright red lipstick completed the look, making her smile pop against her fair complexion.

You followed closely behind as Mary, capturing the quirky spirit of the middle sister. Your outfit boasted a fabulous, mismatched patterned dress that swirled with a rainbow of fabrics and colors. Atop your head sat the iconic hairdo, resembling a strangely shaped ice cream cone. A deep red cloak cascaded over your ensemble, adding an air of mystery. Eerie accessories—like dangling charms and spooky jewelry—clattered softly with every step. Your dark eye makeup dramatically framed your eyes, enhancing the playful spookiness of your costume. Your bright red lips completed the transformation, making you feel utterly enchanting.

“Wow, you two look incredible!” Yelena burst out. “Don’t you think so, Nikolai?” Yelena said, looking down at the baby.

Your son erupted into gleeful laughter, his eyes sparkling with delight as if he genuinely grasped every word his aunt had shared.

"I couldn't agree more!" Yelena chimed in, giving your son a playful wink that made him giggle even harder.

After a whirlwind of Halloween family photos, everyone piled into the car for the drive to Melina and Alexi’s house.

“Are you ready to see your babushka and dedushka, Nik?” Natasha asked, her eyes sparkling in the rearview mirror as she glanced back at your son’s eager face peeking from his reverse car seat.

“Mama’s right, buddy,” said Yelena with a playful smile. “Get ready for a mountain of cheek-squeezing and an avalanche of snuggles and kisses. They can’t wait to spoil you!”

“Have your parents ever celebrated Halloween?” you asked, tilting your head curiously at Natasha.

She let out a long sigh. “Well, there was that one year back in Ohio when they got creative and turned every room in our house into a different trick-or-treat stop. They didn't want the neighbors to see us, so it was like a private haunted tour.”

“So, basically, the answer is no,” Yelena quipped, her expression as deadpan as ever.

Sometimes, it's easy to forget the weight of Natasha and Yelena’s past. Their childhood was an elaborate illusion, where genuine memories were just a flickering mirage. You couldn’t wait to create new memories with your son. Each moment was a chance to build something real and joyful that could help your wife heal her inner child, too.

*^~^*

As you parked the car in front of Alexi and Melina's home, an impressive display of Halloween decorations immediately caught your eye. Towering above the porch were two enormous inflatables—one was a bright orange pumpkin, its mischievous grin glowing against the dusk, and the other a ghost, swaying gently in the evening breeze, its expression delightfully eerie.

The porch was draped with thick, wispy cobwebs that shimmered in the fading light, creating an elaborate, spooky atmosphere. Jack-o'-lanterns flickered with candlelight, casting playful shadows that danced on the walls.

“Oh my God,” you murmured, taking in the scene with astonishment.

“Wow,” Nat addedsaid, her eyes sparkling as she tried to draw Nikolai’s attention toward the decorations.

“Sure,” Yelena saidchimed in, her tone an uninterested contrast to the festive surroundings. She was unimpressed but unable to hide a slight smirk as she surveyed the porch.

You rapped your knuckles against the front door, the sound echoing in the quiet evening. Inside, you could hear the faint rustling of movement.

“Who’s there?” Alexi’s voice called through the door, a hint of playfulness lacing his tone.

“It’s us, Dad!” Natasha replied, her voice bright with anticipation. “Open the door!”

A mischievous grin crept across his face as he asked, “What’s the password?”

“For God’s sake,” Yelena exasperated. “It’s not a password, you doofus.”

“Yes, it is! You must request a trick or a treat!” Alexi exclaimed.

“Oh my God,” Yelena muttered.

“Come on, he's having fun,” you said, playfully nudging your sister-in-law.

“Trick or Treat!” You all said in unison.

“There it is!” Alexi exclaimed, his voice bubbling with excitement. As the door creaked open, a gust of cool air brushed against him, revealing the striking scene behind it. He stood proudly in a tattered suit, his face painted a ghostly green with jagged scars across his cheeks. Beside him, Melina embodied the essence of Frankenstein's bride, her hair teased into an unkempt frenzy, and her tattered and white gown seemed to flutter like a ghostly veil. Together, they made a captivating, spooky pair.

“There’s my little champion!” Alexi boomed, a wide grin lighting up his face as he knelt to get a closer look at Nikolai. “He’s growing bigger and stronger every day, just like his grandpa!”

“Wow, you two look fantastic!” you said.

“Thank you, so do you three, darling,” Melina replied. “I wasn’t sure about the hair being a bit much, but your father insisted it was the way to go. Now, hand me, my grandson!”

As Natasha gently placed Nikolai in Melina's arms, his expression shifted. When he saw her, his lower lip quivered, and a loud wail escaped him.

“I guess the hair was too much, Mama,” Yelena teased as she patted her mother on the shoulder and strolled past her into the warmth of the house.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Natasha exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she examined the candy bowl. “Full-size candy bars? The kids are going to remember this house!”

Melina chuckled, shaking her head. “Let’s just say your father went overboard at the store. That’s the last time I let him handle the Halloween shopping.”

“But look at the stash!” Alexi declared, brandishing a handful of full-size Reese’s, Kit-Kats, Snickers, and even a king-size bag of M&M’s. “I love America! You’d never find treats like this back in Russia!”

You, Yelena, and Nat took turns answering the door. A parade of enchanting costumes continuously greeted you. Wizards, witches, ghosts, and even a flawlessly dressed Black Widow appeared—though she had no clue that Natasha Romanoff herself, had just handed her a Kit Kat bar.

After snapping some more entertaining family photos to frame and cherish, you bid farewell to Alexi and Melina and made your way to the Avengers' Compound for more Halloween hijinks.

*^~^*

The compound's exterior was bathed in an eerie orange glow, with cobwebs covering the walls and jack-o'-lanterns lining the walkway. As the elevator doors slid open, you were met by an enveloping darkness—the common area was shrouded in shadows.

“Friday, what’s going on with the lights?” Natasha called out. She held Nikolai snugly against her chest, his head nestled against her shoulder. The silence that followed left her question hanging in the air.

“FRIDAY, vklyuchi chertov svet! (Turn on the fucking lights!) Yelena shouted, her patience wearing thin.

A playful smirk danced across your lips as you teased at your sister-in-law. “Oh, come on, she’s not Russian.”

Yelena shot back, her eyes narrowing, “She’s not even a she!”

Out of nowhere, Clint jumped out, dressed as a mummy. His voice booming, “Boo!”

The three of you leaped a foot into the air at Clint’s sudden jumpscare. Little Nikolai burst into tears, his tiny hands clutching Nat’s costume desperately. Streams of glistening tears cascaded down his cheeks as he buried his face deep into Mama’s neck, seeking the comfort and safety of her warm embrace.

“What the hell, Clint?” you shouted in disbelief.

With a calm demeanor, Natasha passed little Nik into your arms, “Here, hold our son, Y/N. I have to kill my best friend.”

Natasha fixed her piercing gaze on Clint, a look she typically reserved for her enemies. “Come here,” she said, her voice low and determined.

“It was just a bit of Halloween fun!” Clint protested, inching backward with a sheepish grin.

Yelena stepped forward beside her sister. “You’re going to regret I didn't kill you the first time, Barton.”

“Uh-oh,” Clint muttered, the realization dawning on him.

Suddenly, the room burst into brilliant light, illuminating the rest of the team. Everyone's eyes were glued to Natasha and Yelena as they sprinted after Clint, who was darting around the furniture in a desperate dance of evasion.

“Why are two Victorian ladies chasing Clint?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Dressed in a sleek, high-tech vampire costume.

“What in the world are you talking about, Mr. Stark?” Peter exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief as he fiddled with the bow and arrow on his Kate Bishop costume. “Those are the Sanderson sisters from Hocus Pocus! You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Ooooh… right, I don’t know what that is,” Tony admitted with a sheepish grin, his vampire fangs showing.

“Come on! It's a Halloween cult classic from '93!" Kate added as she fumbled to peel off the Spider-Man mask that clung stubbornly to her face. "Seriously, Peter, how on earth do you breathe in that thing?”

“Yeah, well, I was a bit preoccupied with taking over Stark Industries and having sex to catch up on movies,” Tony shot back.

“Ladies!” Steve suddenly shouted, his commanding voice cutting through the chaos. Natasha and Yelena halted as Clint dove behind the super soldier dressed as a patriotic zombie.

Meanwhile, Wanda approached you with a warm smile. The redhead looked fantastic dressed as Lucille Ball. She wrapped her arms around you and gently rubbed small circles on Nik’s back, soothing him as his tears slowly faded. He reached out for the Scarlet Witch, tiny fingers grasping at her.

“You are amazing!” you cheered as Wanda tenderly embraced your son.

Wanda smiled, a twinkle in her eye. “Lots of practice,” she replied, her voice soft and reassuring.

*^~^*

Colorful cocktails flowed freely, with standout creations like the "Avengers' Punch," a fruity concoction brimming with berries and citrus, and the bold "Hulk's Smash," a vivid green drink that packed a punch.

The buffet table was a feast for the eyes, adorned with creatively named dishes courtesy of Pepper. Guests indulged in "Iron Man" sliders—juicy mini-burgers topped with zesty sauces—and "Super Soldier" salads, artfully arranged with fresh greens, colorful veggies, and a rainbow of dressings. To satisfy every sweet tooth, the selection of "Gamma-Sized" desserts included towering cupcakes and decadent orange and black sugar cookies.

Cradling Nikolai in your arms, you couldn't help but smile as you watched Thor energetically bob for apples. Each time he emerged from the bucket, his face gleaming with water, an apple clenched between his teeth, Nik erupted into giggles.

“Nikolai Odison!” Thor exclaimed, his voice booming with warmth as he wiped the drops of water from his face. With a playful grin, he scooped your son into his strong arms; Thor chuckled as he looked down at the little boy. “How’s my little namesake? Not giving your mommies a tough time, are you?” he asked.

“He's growing so fast,” you admitted, a mix of excitement and disbelief in your voice. “We think he might start crawling any day now.”

“Once that little guy is mobile, you two are done for,” Sam teased, adjusting his Sherlock Holmes cap with a knowing smirk.

“I know, right?” Natasha sighed, a playful grin on her face. “That’s why all of you will take turns babysitting in the future.

“Anytime, you two,” Bucky said with a playful grin, effortlessly spinning the bowler hat from his Watson costume around his finger like a basketball, its brim catching the light with each smooth rotation.

“Excuse me?” Tony interjected with an exaggerated hand raise. “Hi! I don’t babysit. I’ve got my own little one to keep alive,” he said, gesturing to Morgan.

“Fair point,” Natasha replied in mock seriousness. “But then I guess we should fill Pepper in about some of your party boy dalliances.”

“Ha! She’s fully aware,” Tony shot back, a cheeky grin on his face. “Who do you think had their clothes dry cleaned and called a car for them the next morning?”

“Even for Mardi Gras ’96?” Natasha asked, arching an eyebrow playfully.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tony said, leaning in as if bracing for the punchline.

“Try me,” Natasha replied, her expression unyielding.

After a moment of silence, Tony relented. “So, what bedtime stories does he like?”

“Goodnight Moon is reigning supreme right now,” Natasha said, smirking as she lightly tapped Tony’s cheek in appreciation.

*^~^*

As Yelena finished sampling a colorful assortment of candy from Morgan’s overflowing Halloween loot bag, the vibrant wrappers crinkling in her hands, you could sense it was time to head home. Nikolai let out a tiny, adorable yawn, nuzzling his head into the comforting curve of your shoulder.

Fortunately, you had the foresight to pack his cozy pajamas, so you gently changed him, the soft fabric a perfect embrace for his sleepy frame. After completing the task, you exchanged quiet goodbyes with everyone. By the time you and Natasha dropped Yelena off at home, little Nik had already drifted into the sweet world of dreams, his soft breaths a lullaby to the peaceful night.

Once back home, you and Natasha took extra care as you cradled your baby boy. Together, you placed him carefully into his crib, ensuring he was nestled snugly beneath his favorite blanket. With meticulous silence, you both tiptoed out of his room, the faint glow of the nightlight casting a warm, soothing light as you closed the door softly behind you.

You both removed your costumes, the vibrant colors replaced by cozy pajamas as you settled down for the night.

“So, what do you think of Nikolai’s first Halloween?” Natasha asked, snuggling up next to you in bed.

“It was magical,” you replied, a contented smile spreading across your face.

“I agree,” Natasha nodded eagerly. “Those photos will be the cutest addition to his baby book.”

With a playful sigh, you added, “The only thing I regretted was not bringing any candy home.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin playing on her lips. “Oh, you mean for that secret stash hidden in the lettuce crisper?”

You smirked back at her, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re not interested in any of this chocolate I brought home?” She held up a tempting selection: a Hershey Bar, a pack of Reese’s, a bag of M&M’s, and a Kit Kat, all glistening with sugary allure from beside the bed.

Your eyes sparkled with excitement at the sight of the treats. “Oh, I never said that!” you replied, a grin on your face.

“Thought so,” Natasha teased, leaning in closer and pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “Happy Halloween, Y/N.”

“Happy Halloween, Nat,” you returned, a warmth blooming in your chest as you savored the family moment—and the candy.

#natahsa romanoff #natasha romanoff and you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #mcu #the avengers #fluff

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 1 year ago

Note

what do you think the snl episode after the yeerks were defeated would be like?

Common flavors of SNL joke, immediately post-Animorphs:

A. Librarian reveals midway through a conversation with a customer that what appears to be one person is actually a yeerk and host swapping control back and forth. Lots of "So Linda—" "Not Linda, this is Ekkris 032" "Oh, okay, Ekkris—" "Actually this is Linda again."

The final punchline would be the customer going "Linda, or Ekkris" and the librarian going "Well now I'm Artrem-Illiack-Ferishth", causing everyone to realize the librarian never actually said they're a controller, and to wonder what the hell just happened.

B. Fake trailer for an alien invasion movie, evoking Independence Day and Contact, but it's shot in a Krispy Kreme and the alien invaders are hordes of andalite tourists.

C. Marco hosts, and in every sketch he plays a character who refuses to believe aliens exist. Sometimes it's meta-humor: he walks into a sketch about a hork-bajir arguing with an arborist long enough to pull the costume off the "hork-bajir" and reveal the human actor. Sometimes it's generational humor: he insists that a thought-speaking dog is just "one of those kids" wearing a "silly fad outfit."

It culminates in a sketch where Marco is dressed as Agent Scully and Gillian Anderson is dressed as the Governor of California delivering her now-famous speech about the yeerk invasion. The governor presents Marco with increasingly obvious evidence, only to have Marco dismiss her, until finally Gillian Anderson goes, "Explain THIS!" and demorphs into Cassie. Marco just rolls his eyes, goes, "Everyone can do THAT" and also morphs Cassie before walking off the set.

and, of course...

D. Aliens Made Me Do It. Overused as a punchline to the point where it kind of, arguably, circles back around to being funny again.

#animorphs #animorphs meta #saturday night live #if other people have ideas i'm all ears

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cowgurrrl · 10 months ago

Text

Keep the Wolves Away

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Dedicated to my real life Andies. Thank you for making me feel easy to love.

Summary: The worst decision [5.2k]

Warnings: platonic threatening, discussions of bad mental health, so much flirting that (spoiler alert) might be real, possible THE shittiest ex I ever could've written, all the southern pet names, alcohol consumption, the resurgence of an old nude of readers, gaslighty behavior, smoking cigarettes (don't smoke kids), Joel talking reader out of a spiral, two (2) kisses

"So, it's a date." Andie declares once you're done explaining everything to her over FaceTime. You pause your blush application to roll your eyes at her.

"It's not a date!"

"I'm sorry, so I'm just supposed to believe you when you say you're going to be just friends with the hot, sweet single dad who sounds like he's head over heels for you?"

"He is not head over heels for me." You sound a little petulant, and Andie laughs like she did when you were in high school and trying to hide a crush from her.

"Babe, he willingly went on a high school field trip just so he could see you."

"His daughter was there. I'm sure he wanted to spend time with her."

"I'm sure he did because he's a great dad, but he also wanted to see you in your element. It's sexy watching someone do the thing they love."

"Yeah, yeah." You brush her off, and she scoffs. You toss your makeup brush back into its bag and check out your outfit in the mirror. It's nothing insane— just a plain black slip dress— but now that Joel's arrival is getting closer and closer, you're rethinking everything. "Do I look okay?"

"You look stunning!" Andie chirps. "I'm sure your not boyfriend will think the same thing."

"I'm going to get a plane ticket to Austria just so I can choke you out with my own two hands." You threaten, but she laughs so hard you can't stop smiling. Once the trans-Atlantic giggling dies down, the line goes quiet, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mascara out.

"Are you nervous to see him?" She asks gently. Andie came home for the summer dubbed The Dark Days. She stayed over when the one-bedroom apartment felt too big and got you out of the house when you couldn't stand the four walls anymore. She took whatever he left behind to his new apartment so you wouldn't have to (and gave him a piece of her mind while she was at it). She made you believe in love again. Not sticky, frustrating, unpredictable romantic love but pure, easy, all-knowing love that can only come from long-enduring relationships such as yours.

For a long time after he left, you thought you were hard to love. Too loud, too bright, too much. Until you were out at a bar with her one night, trying to find the remnants of your independence and self-esteem tucked under sweaty beers and cracked leather chairs, when someone pointed out how similar you and Andie were. "Like two sides of the same coin," the woman told you. Andie is one of the easiest people in the world to love with her quick wit, creativity, and smile. And you realized for the first time if you had even a shred of that, even if only by dint of knowing and being loved by her, then you must be easy to love too. You must be worth the mess and heartache and stained fingerprints.

So, yeah, Andie was less than pleased to hear that all that hard work could be undone by seeing him again, but she was supportive.

"I don't know," you sigh. "I'm not a kid anymore. I've had more years without him than I did with him, but it's still scary."

"I know."

"I don't even know what I'm gonna say to him."

"He'll probably be too busy with the gallery and everything. Maybe you won't even have to." She says, and you groan at the uncertainty of everything.

"God, why did I say yes?" You ask as a knock interrupts your whining. You end your call with a quick "I love you, thank you, I'll text you" before throwing your phone down. "Come in!" You yell from the bathroom as you rapidly finish doing your makeup. There's a pause on the other side before he jiggles the knob and finally comes in. "I'm just finishing up in the bathroom. Give me a minute."

"D'you always leave your door unlocked?" Joel asks. The sound of his unsure footsteps reaches your ears, and you smile at the thought of him looking around your apartment like a lost toddler.

"Only when I know someone's coming over," you say. "Sorry, it's a mess."

"Oh, this is nothin'. You should see Ellie's room." He says, his feet pacing the floor. You swipe on a cute lipstick you never wear and finally step out into the living room where Joel is waiting. He's wearing a black button-up shirt with nice pants as he stands with his back to you, looking at some of the things on your wall.

"Well, don't you look nice?" You compliment, making him turn around with a shy smile. His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail or sliver of skin he hasn't seen before. His intense gaze reminds you of how he looked at you in the bar when you were sure his eyes would melt you. He looks dumbstruck, and his Adam's apple bobs when his eyes finally settle on your face.

"Wow… you look-"

"Choose carefully." You tease to take some of the tension out of the room.

"Beautiful," he says, thwarting your efforts. "You always look beautiful."

"Thank you. Not so bad yourself."

"You like it? Ellie helped me pick it out," he anxiously fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. "Feels weird."

"What specifically feels weird?" You ask, stepping closer to him to examine his outfit. He smells like aftershave and the cologne he's prone to wearing. Why the fuck do you have his cologne memorized, you think to yourself.

"I dunno. I think I just feel outta place."

"Well, you don't look out of place," you say. "These might be what's doing it, though." You tap the top buttons of his shirt, the ones buttoned all the way up to his chin like a toddler going to Christmas mass.

"Ellie said I should do all of 'em since it's a fancy art thing."

"Well, you should stop taking fashion advice from a fifteen-year-old," you laugh. "I promise it's not fancy enough to justify being uncomfortable."

"I'm takin' your word for it." He says as he reaches up to undo his top two buttons, revealing freckles across his chest and collarbones and the tiniest sliver of a gold chain resting against his throat. For some reason, you can't tear your eyes away from the veins in his neck or the delicate necklace stuck to his warm skin. "What, it really looks that bad?" He thankfully breaks through your thoughts, and you try to recover by shaking your head.

"No, no. Not at all. You look really nice," you say, clearing your throat. "Let me get my purse, and we can go." You don't even wait for him to respond. You just turn on your heels and walk to your bedroom. In the security of your bedroom, you let out a long exhale and try to get your mind back on track.

You're just nervous. He's being nice. You're being nice back. It's nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing, you mentally chant. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you almost have to laugh at the fierce blush on your cheeks and the distracted look in your eyes. "You better get it together." You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror like it's gonna do anything to make tonight smoother.

The gallery is packed when you get there. Joel curses under his breath as he tries to find a parking spot, and you try to keep your anxiety at bay. All you have to do is show your face, look at the paintings, and leave. Maybe you can manage to steal a bottle of the cheap wine they're undoubtedly serving. It'll be an hour. Two tops. You can do this.

You're so in your head that you didn't notice that Joel parked the car or that he was looking at you until he bumped your knee with his.

"You okay?" He asks. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Just need a second." You mumble. You fiddle with your earrings, your dress, anything to keep your hands busy as you psyche yourself up.

"When's the last time you saw this asshole?"

"He wasn't always an asshole," you try to redirect, but he raises his eyebrows at you. "Since I graduated college."

"We don't have to go in." He offers easily, and you give him a look.

"Yes, we do. My name's on the list and everything."

"So?" He shrugs. "The world's not gonna end just cause one person didn't show up."

"But you drove all the way here."

"And I can drive you all the way back. Besides, it's nice having a pretty girl in my truck. It wouldn't hurt to have you here next to me for a little while longer." He says, and you laugh, feeling some weight lift off your shoulders.

"You get many pretty girls sitting in your truck?"

"Just my pretty girls."

"Right." You say, and he smiles, creating familiar crinkles in the corners of his eyes. They look a little deeper in the moonlight, but his eyes shine differently. Your fingers itch to draw them if only to critique your work and find the answer to why he has such an effect on you. You're aware that you're staring, but you also can't find it in yourself to look away. Not when he's staring back at you so fondly.

"What can I do to help you?" He asks. You feel like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice. You've talked to Ellie about her anxiety, so you know he has some practice in dealing with it, but he's acting like it's second nature. Like this is what he was meant to do. He bumps you again when you start messing with your purse. "Do you want this to be like at the bar? Do you want me to take you home and pretend like we were never here? Do you want me to go in there and crack some skulls? You say the word— any word— and I'll do it for you, darlin'."

Darlin’. It's what he called you when you promised revenge for almost kissing you at the bar. Normally, you'd be against any form of pet name. Henry was not openly affectionate in that way, and you learned not to expect it from him. But here's Joel, dropping the term of endearment almost every time he's been alone with you. It could be that cowboy accent or his knee pressed against yours, but the nickname fills your chest with warmth and pushes away your anxiety.

"Any word, huh?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"My mama raised me not to make promises I didn't have every intention of followin' through on." He says. "What'll it be?"

"I think… I just need you to be there with me."

"Then, that's what I'll do."

"Okay." You mumble, and he smiles as a new wave of comfort washes over you.

"Okay." He says.

"Okay." You take a deep breath and look at him in the driver's seat one more time. "Let's do this." Finally, you open the door and step down from his truck. He's quick to come to your side and offer you his arm before he can even finish locking the car. You smile, tuck your hand under his bicep, and let him keep you upright as you walk in.

The gallery is full of people who look way more qualified than you— art critics, journalists, and other artists who can actually sell a piece. They barely glance at you and Joel when you breach the doorway, which you're silently grateful for. When a waiter walks by with champagne glasses, Joel quickly snatches two glasses from the tray and hands you one.

"Here's to us." He says, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

"Us?"

"Well, we're sure as hell not toastin' to that asshole, are we?"

"I guess not," you laugh as you clink your glasses together. "To us." You each take a sip, and Joel tries to hide his reaction to the champagne, but you see right through it. "Not your speed?"

"Not at all." He groans as he chokes it down.

"Don't worry, maverick, we'll get you something else later." You promise and tuck your hand back under his arm as you start walking through the gallery.

A lot of his newer work resembles his work from college— normal portraits of things like fruits, beds, or people but with unexpected lines of colors lining them like they're vibrating. You even recognize some from your college days. You just never expected them to actually be displayed in this way, not even when you were dating and telling him what a good artist you thought he was. Some have vague titles like "$12" and "Jack," while others are untitled. You can see why it would get taken in by a gallery. There's a very clear skill in how he paints and manipulates everyday objects into something new. It would be impressive if it was interesting.

Maybe you're just used to the way he paints. Maybe this is exactly what you expected of him. Maybe you thought he would've grown, if not in attitude than, at least, in skill. But it's clear that too many people told him good things about his work, and he saw nothing he needed to change or fix. Somehow, it makes you feel better, not worse, about your own art.

"So, are these supposed to be good or bad?" Joel whispers to you as you get closer to the next section, and you laugh a little too loudly. The people around you give you nasty looks, but you can't find it in yourself to be sorry.

"Like I said at the museum, I can't tell you that, but…" you glance around to make sure nobody's listening to you. "As someone who saw him make a lot of art, this is definitely not his best."

"Okay, that's what I thought," he says before pointing at a specific part of the painting. "The shape is really weird right there, like he ran outta space or somethin'." You let go of his arm and step between him and the painting, smiling knowingly.

"Did you study for this?" You ask, and he nervously plays with the chain around his neck.

"I may have… snuck a look at Ellie's notes." He admits sheepishly, and your eyes widen.

"You were actin' like you were gonna have to rely on me this whole time! You don't need me to tell you what good art is!"

"Yeah, but I want you to."

"Oh, whatever. C'mon, I wanna hear what else you think." You pretty much drag him to the next section of the gallery, but he's pliant and almost giddy at your hold on him. You take more time in the next part, and he ducks so his lips are near your ear to point out little things he notices. He said he was scared of being wrong in front of people "smarter than him," but all the observations he makes are valid and accurate. He lets you add your own analysis to his and watches you with a smile when you start talking with your hands excitedly. Suddenly, you're not nearly as miserable as you thought you would be, and you're even laughing together as you jump from painting to painting.

"See, this isn't so bad!" You say as you move to the final part, but your smile and enthusiasm die when you step over the threshold. There, staring at you unashamedly is the painting Henry did of you when you were twenty and topless. He told you it was for his own artistic development, and you were more than happy to do it for him. You just never thought he would've kept it after all these years. Thank God your face isn't visible in the painting, but your rigid posture tells Joel everything he needs to know. He politely turns his back to the painting and steps between you and your likeness.

"You wanna go?" He whispers at the same time someone calls your name. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand for support as you turn around and face Henry. His wavy blonde hair frames his face like it did in college but he's matured. His beard is a little more filled in, and he's gotten a little broader. Other than that, he's still the same person you met freshman year.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" He says as he approaches. He doesn't try to hug you, and you don't move to let go of Joel's hand. "You look great. I mean, you always looked great, but you know what I meant," he says, looking over you. Only when Joel clears his throat does Henry even look at him. "Oh, sorry, man! We're old friends. I'm Henry." He holds his hand out for Joel to meet halfway, but he doesn't. You think it probably took fighting every single bit of southern hospitality in his veins to stop himself from shaking Henry's hand.

"'M Joel." He says, and Henry awkwardly drops his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Joel. How are you enjoying the exhibition?"

"'S alright." Is all Joel offers, not willing to gas up Henry's ego anymore, and you have to stifle a laugh at the expectant look on Henry's face. "Well, I think we were just goin'."

"Oh, so soon? You haven't even seen the last few pieces."

"Are those any better than the thirty identical ones I already saw?"

"Joel," you scold quietly, and his jaw flexes when you look at him.

"It's okay. Not everyone understands art enough to enjoy it." Henry says.

"Oh, I understand everythin' just fine." You swear Joel would've punched him if he wasn't holding your hand so tight. You step in between them and raise your eyebrows at Joel. His shoulders are squared, and you can feel the molten anger rolling off him, but it softens just a bit when he meets your eyes. You squeeze him twice to let him know you're okay, and he nods.

"Can you get me a refill on champagne? I think they're still walkin' around with some." You suggest. He gets the hint, but he obviously doesn't like it. He glances between you and Henry like he's trying to make a decision but folds when you mouth, "please," at him.

"’Course," he says through gritted teeth. "Anythin' else I can get for you, baby?" Baby, that's a new one, you think.

"No, I'm alright. Thanks, though." You say. Without thinking, you let your other hand rest on his jaw and kiss Joel's cheek. His jaw unclenches when your fingertips graze his stubble, and his shoulders relax when your lips make contact with his skin, but you know he's still upset because you're still upset. Joel smiles and walks away before you can get a good look at the blush creeping up his neck, and you're resigned to watching him disappear into the crowd.

"He seems nice," Henry says the second Joel is out of earshot, and you have to resist the urge to laugh.

"He is."

"How'd you two meet?"

"Through work." You say, knowing that bringing up teaching will make his skin crawl. He sucks his teeth and nods, the champagne in his glass sloshing slightly.

"Ah," he says. "That's nice."

"Yeah," you agree. An awkward silence falls over the two of you quickly, and you're itching to find Joel in the sea of people. Henry notices your lack of attention on him.

"It's really good to see you," he says. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."

"Yeah, that's usually what happens when you leave someone."

"That's kinda why I invited you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for the way things ended," he acts brokenhearted and torn up about it, but he's years too late for the pity party he's expecting. "I should've talked to you about what was going on. We were just... becoming so different, and it felt like you were always talking to Andie or other people in the program, and there was no way to reach you."

"What are you talking about? I asked you multiple times if we were okay, and you said yes every time. I was talking to Andie so much because I needed someone who would understand me and be able to help." You say, and he waves his hand like he's swatting flies.

"Let's not do this. My therapist says it's not healthy to rehash the past like this. I just wanted to make amends and let you know I'm sorry for how you felt." It's not an apology. Not a real one, anyway. Jesus Christ, what did you ever see in him? Before you can even open your mouth to say something, he gestures to the gallery. "So, what do you think about all this? Crazy, right?"

"It's... something," you say. "Wish you would've given me a heads up about that one before I brought someone with me." You point in the direction of your half-naked body on the wall, and he gives you a confused look.

"I thought I did in the email."

"Nope, I think I would've remembered if you said something about a half-naked painting of me from college being displayed," you shake your head. "Why do you even still have that? I thought you would've thrown it away or painted over it or something."

"Why would I do that? It's a good piece."

"I know it's good because it's my body. What's weird is you leaving me without a word one day and then keeping a naked picture of me all these years."

"I didn't even think of it as your body. After a while, it was just a body," he says with no remorse, and you think you might hit him yourself. "Besides, you should take this as a compliment. Not many women get the opportunity to be depicted as art. It's a wonderful thing. You might even thank me one day when you're older." Finally, you see Joel walking toward you with a glass of champagne, and you take refuge in the fact that he's returning for you. "But, from what I can see, they've definitely stayed the same, so you probably don't have anything to worry about." He says like it's a secret or a compliment. You don't even wait for Joel to say or do anything. You just grab the wine from him and throw it in Henry's face. The people in the immediate vicinity gasp as you slap him and shove the empty glass into his hands.

"Out of all the stupid things I imagined for myself when I was younger, thinking I would marry you was the stupidest," you spit. "Don't you ever try to fucking contact me again."

You feel like a fucking idiot. What did you expect? An apology? Repentance? Regret? He barely apologized when you were together. Why would he start now? God, was he always that bad? How could you have been so blind? How could you have shed so many tears over him? How could you have let yourself be so vulnerable with him and for so many years? It's a miracle he didn't call the cops and try to get the two of you arrested, even though Joel didn't do anything. You think, at least. The second you finished your sentence, you ran to the bathroom to cry and then snuck out through the back to wait outside Joel's truck. For all you know, Joel (rightfully) beat his ass and is on the run from artsy Austin hipsters.

You put the lit cigarette back in your mouth and take a long drag, the familiar burning in your lungs a sick relief. You quit during The Dark Days because smoking was something he did, and you wanted to rid yourself of any reminder of his impact on your life. Apparently, at the same time you were scrubbing his fingerprints from your bones, he was in possession of and doing God knows what with the visual reminder of your vulnerability and love-sickness and acted like it was nothing. Like it was a compliment. Like it was just an object instead of your body. Andie would be pissed if she were here but especially if she saw you smoking after she braved all those shaky days and nights of nicotine patches and dried fruit and whatever other remedy recommended to help you quit smoking. You half-expect the same anger when you see Joel walking toward you.

"Before you even start, I know I shouldn't, okay? It's a bad habit from when I was a kid, and I've mostly kicked it. I just... had a lapse. I'll be back on my best behavior tomorrow," you say as he stops in front of you. He doesn't look angry or upset. He just looks concerned and maybe even a little sad. Suddenly, you regret running away from him when all he probably wanted to do was help. You probably wouldn't have bummed a cigarette from a busboy if you let him. "Don't tell Ellie." You plead. His eyes flick over your face before he takes the cigarette from your fingers, puts the lipstick-stained filter in his own mouth, and inhales deeply, making the ember glow in the dark of the night. When he exhales, he blows the smoke away from you and lets the wind carry it in the opposite direction. A considerate smoker. You should've guessed.

"Don't tell Ellie," he says, handing the cigarette back to you. "Are you okay?"

You shake your head and take a long drag. It's quiet between you two for a while, the only sound being the cicadas and the distant chatter of the gallery. They're probably still talking about the psycho bitch who threw her wine in the artist's face. You don't really care. "I'm sorry for tonight. I don't know what I was expecting, and I sure as shit didn't know that painting was gonna be displayed. I swear, if I had any idea how bad this was gonna be, I wouldn't have invited you."

"Why are you apologizin'? It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have roped you into this. I should've just said no, ignored the email, or came by myself. It's not fair that you got put in the middle of all this, especially when you were just trying to be nice. You're the parent of one of my students, and for you to see that side of me is just inappropriate. I just-" he stops your rambling by putting his hands on your shoulders and making you look at him, the cigarette falling to the pavement in the process.

"Hey, hey. Stop. Take a breath." He says. Your head hurts from crying, and part of you wants to crawl into a hole and stay there until these feelings go away, but his eyes are gentle, and his hands are warm. You think he might be the only reason you're holding it together right now. "None of this is your fault, okay? Not the painting, not the conversation, none of it. We're both adults, and we can handle these things rationally. I'm not scarred for life just 'cause you lost your temper."

"But I-"

"No, buts. You told me the situation, and I didn't care. You warned me bout the art people, and I didn't care. You threw a drink in that asshole's face, and I didn't care," he says. "The only thing I care bout right now is makin' sure you're okay. Fuck everythin' else." You search his face for anything to tell you what he's telling you is going against his inner monologue but find none. He's completely and wholly concerned about you and nothing else. Not how fast he can get out of this. Not how this might look. Not what other people might think about him. Nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Fuck everything else." You agree.

"Now, you're gettin' the hang of it." He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him. He takes it in stride, his smile never fading as he looks down at you. You stop messing with the hem of your dress and let yourself relax for the first time all night.

"Thank you for being here, Joel. I really appreciate it."

"Not our best not-date, but definitely a memorable one." He says, and you laugh. You seem to realize how close you are at the same time because you both fall silent. His curls are beautifully draped over his face, and you can't stop watching his tiny expressions. An eye squint. A purse of the lips. A bite to the inside of his cheek. You want to blame your bad night or the emotions, but you can't. There's something more there. Something that's been brewing beneath the surface since he came into your classroom. Something that will kill you if you don't act on it.

You let your hands come up from your sides and tentatively brush against his waist as you stare at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just stares down at your lips, and the hands on your shoulders slowly move across your skin and up your collarbone— leaving goosebumps in his wake— until his hands are on your jaw and your pulse is thrumming against his palm. You pull him closer by his belt loops, and he doesn't hesitate to crowd your space, pushing you into the side of his truck with his body. His lips ghost over yours, just barely touching, and his nose bumps yours.

"This is a bad idea," you breathe, tightening your hold on him. He nods and presses his forehead against yours. He's still close enough to breathe the same air as him, but the distance feels like miles. You lean forward a fraction as a test, and he doesn't move. If anything, he seems annoyed you didn't kiss him.

"D'you want to stop?" He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel. You shake your head and swallow hard when he brushes the hair off your shoulder, and you can feel his heavy hand holding you. Your hands skate over his ribs, feeling muscles and a crazed heartbeat, and his jaw clenches. "Then you better do somethin' cause you've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy for weeks."

Finally, you catch his lips with yours. He tastes like nicotine and smoke, and you know it's going to take a lot more than patches to get you to want to stop doing this. It's gentle and sweet, all relieved sighs and shy touches until you pull away for just a second to second-guess yourself or ask him something. You don't even start to form the words before he's back on you with more fervor. Suddenly, it's like he's everywhere but not nearly close enough. He nibbles at your bottom lip and tests a hand on your sternum, long fingers grazing your throat. The metal of the truck digs into your back, but you stop caring when a little moan slips from his lips when you pull him closer.

This is a bad idea. A horrible one. A bad habit you're gonna need to kick.

But he might just be your favorite bad idea so far.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk

#hippies and cowboys #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel tlou #the last of us au #tlou au #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #the last of us x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us fluff #joel miller fluff #i fucking love this

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rollinouttahere-writes · 10 months ago

Note

Got any thoughts on Doflamingo as a father?

I feel like I've seen enough spoilers for this guy to write for him so sure why not

Honestly I don't think he'd be that bad. There are certainly worse fathers one could get stuck with coughcoughJUDGEcoughcough

The word and idea of family is something that he seems to hold in a high regard. Having a child of his own never really crossed his mind given his lifestyle and refusal (as well as inability) to love anyone enough to get to the point of having a family. Let's say that an accident happens and now he's got a whoopsie-baby on the way.

It's like everything clicks into place for him. How did he never think of this before? If he has a kid and raises it himself, they'll be perfect. He can finally have a family member that he can trust that won't betray him. His joy towards the revelation only goes as far as his baby, though. The other parent likely won't be leaving the delivery room alive. He doesn't want anyone else trying to influence his child.

He's a little hands off during the baby stage. Frankly, he sees tasks such as diaper changing, feedings, and getting up in the middle of the night to be beneath him. That's what nannies are for. That being said, he's still around and checks in on the baby frequently throughout the day. Both for the sake of making sure they're being properly cared for, but also to spend time with them. It's hardly uncommon to find him playing with them, holding them while they're sleeping, or picking out outfits for them to wear rip this child's fashion sense

Once they're old enough (around 3), he gets much more hands on. Nannies are dismissed because he's bringing this kid with him everywhere all the time. He wants for his child to be his "mini-me". It's only natural that they will be his successor one day, and he intends to train them well for such a roll. While they are spoiled rotten by him, they aren't sheltered or coddled by any means. They will be fully aware of how cut throat the world is and are taught to be even worse. In his eyes, it would be a disservice to raise them any other way.

The favoritism towards his biological child over the kids he's taken in is painfully obvious. He doesn't try to hide it, why should he? Of course he's going to hold his kid in a higher regard than the others. Get over it.

While he does raise his kid to be absolutely brutal, he doesn't want them to be independent. Ideally they would be capable of being self-sufficient, but never fully realize it. The relationship would be very unhealthy and co-dependent. The child can't fathom a world without their dad around to guide them, and Doflamingo heavily relies on them for emotional support even though he doesn't realize it. This is the only "real" family he has left, and he needs them as much as they feel that they need him. Naturally, this means that any love interests will promptly be disposed of, he's not letting anyone take away his kid.

Doflamingo gets a sort of cathartic satisfaction from seeing his child alive and happy. It gives him a sense of superiority over his own father that he can provide a better and safer life for his kid than he did.

#donquixote doflamingo

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whateverloomis · 6 months ago

Note

hihi! could I request poly!ghostface with an idol reader? afab but any/no pronouns works

The reader just enrolled in the school recently, both to be closer to LA and try and keep the public away. Reader isn't world famous or anything, but has a recognizable name. Maybe has been on a talent show and radio station a few times.

Hi! Thank you for your request anon 💖 This was a very interesting one to work with. I did a lil twist with the LA detail. I don't know if you wanted some saucy smut in here so I kept it on the teasy side, (I love this gif set 😭🙈.)

Warnings: Teasing, inappropriate touching, manipulation, alcohol consumption, getting tipsy, cliffhanger (I think?), unedited

Reader: They/Them pronouns in italics. Reader is AFAB fem presenting.

"An independent journalist?" Sidney asked, intrigued and confused all at once.

"Yeah, like. Y'know, the people who go around asking questions about crime cases and other crazy news." Tatum answered, filling the group in with the latest gossip.

"Yeah, I got interviewed yesterday, but apparently it's like a low-key thing. Some kind of personal project that might not go public." Randy added and Sidney nodded, processing all the information.

The press being all over town was bad enough, and now some secret journalist or something? She definitely wanted to avoid anymore questions, so she took note in order to avoid anyone that might've seemed, strange? She didn't really know how to handle the situation.

"Hey, how come I haven't gotten a cool secret interview?" Stu asked, pouting like a little kid.

"I don't think someone low-key like that wants to interview your loud ass." Billy replied and Stu faked being hurt. The rest of the group laughed at the boys usual grumpy commentary.

"Look, that's the journalist." Randy whispered and stared in a -not so subtle- way. Everyone else gave their visual attention to the person and Billy raised an eyebrow in amusement. Then he looked at Stu, who also seemed a bit more interested than usual.

They didn't know what to expect from the title "journalist" when it came to appearance but it definitely wasn't this. They had a short black dress on with a cream colored cardigan sweater. Black combat boots and white knee high leg warmers that completed the casual outfit and gave it a touch of cuteness compared to the little dress that hung dangerously close to their ass, threatening to rise up at any moment.

"Well damn." Stu said in a flirty and amused tone. Tatum glared at him and then the group continued their usual chaotic conversations and speculations about the ghost face murder case.

•

Inside the campus, a memorial for Casey Becker and Steve Orth was placed at the end of the main hallway. YN was looking at every detail and every note the students left close to the couples pictures and took notes in their leather journal. It seemed like a casual thing but Billy and Stu knew what was up.

"You think they might have a lead?" Stu questioned as he and Billy walked along the hallway casually, trying to seem like they were doing anything else other than approaching the journalist.

"I don't know... But we better make sure they don't find any." Billy answered and Stu widened this eyes, excitement radiating off him.

"Hooh, what are you suggesting man? We kill them?" Stu whisper-screamed and Billy hit his friends arm. "Would you shut up? That's not what I'm saying... Maybe, a distraction of some sort... A mislead." Billy answered and Stu got even more excited. It was like a game to them, one they knew how to manipulate however they wanted to.

•

After the last class of the day, YN was ready to go to their small apartment and put the pieces together with the info they gathered about the ghost face case.

As they were putting their books and other things into their shoulder bag, Billy approached them. He seemed mysterious to YN and they instantly grew curious. Maybe he knew something about the case?

"YN, right?" He said, his tone slightly flirty.

"Yes, and you are?" YN asked, mimicking his tone and smiling up at him innocently.

Billy let out a breathy laugh, smirking. "Billy. Billy Loomis. I uh, heard you were investigating the ghost face case or something of that sort?" He said, taking a step forward and placing his hand on YNs desk.

"Words getting around huh? Yes. I'm keeping it low-key though. Not everyone peeks my interest with this." They replied and Billy raised an eyebrow.

"No? Do I seem interesting enough?" He asked, smirking down at YN as they chuckled at his flirting and interest.

"Can't deny that you do, Loomis. We can talk. My place at 7? I'd rather be somewhere comfortable." They said and grabbed Billy's hand softly, writing their phone number and address on the palm of his hand with a marker.

Billy looked at it for a second and smiled at YN, nodding and leaning on the desk. "I have a friend too, he has some pretty interesting info as well. I could bring him over, if you'd like." He added and YN thought about it for a second. Other than receiving what seemed like good insight, if his friend was just as attractive as him, they wouldn't mind that one bit.

"Sure, that's fine with me. See you at 7?" YN checked one last time. "We'll be there." Billy replied and watched as they walked past him towards the exit door of the classroom and the boy couldn't help but scan their gorgeous body from head to toe.

•

"Wine?" YN asked the boys and Billy declined. Stu was about to say yes but Billy kicked him under the table.

"Dude, f- Uh, no I'm good. Thanks-" Stu stumbled on his words and YN giggled, pouring themselves a glass. It was perfect, if YN was tipsy enough the boys would be able to twist and turn their words in order to steer YN into the wrong direction with the case. They could also get information out of them and mess around with it too. Perfect plan.

All three of them conversed easily and it got better once YN started to get affected by the alcohol. They told Billy and Stu about how they lived in LA and how it was too overwhelming to live in. After they heard about the small town of Woodsboro and ghost face it didn't only peak their interest, but it was a perfect excuse for them to move out of LA and transfer into a new college. Have a real change in their lifestyle and pursue their journalism dream.

As the conversation went on YN got more intrigued by the boys and what they were saying.

"The thing is that Sidney's dad is missing. And it happened exactly when the murders took place so, it makes total sense that he'd be the prime suspect." Stu commented and YN wrote every single thing down.

Billy was standing close to YN, leaning against the kitchen counter trying to peak at their notes, but he could barely read anything.

"So what else do you have in there?" Billy asked, not caring about keeping his intentions low-key. He moved towards YN who was sitting on a stool, using the counter as a table.

"Nothing you should be concerned about, Loomis." YN answered and took another sip of their second glass of wine that night.

Stu chuckled and placed his hand on top of YNs. "C'mon, you can tell us, we can provide a lot of info."

"Yeah, we have a friend who's a cop too, so we have good insight." Billy continued and kept walking towards YN, sliding his hand against the counter top.

YN giggled at their attempts to get an insight scoop of what they've collected so far, but maybe the boys were right. I mean, they did have a cop as a friend, so that was definitely a good source.

Billy was a few inches away from YN, leaning against the counter top. "C'mon baby, you can tell us. We can keep a secret or two." He said and placed his hand on YNs left thigh.

They were almost drunk at that point and didn't care what they did or said. They were soaked between their legs because of the alcohol effects, plus Billy and Stu being so flirty and straight forward wasn't helping with their needyness.

Stu walked over to YN and stood right behind them. He placed his hands on their arms and soothed them. "We'll even introduce you to our cop friend, it'll be a perfect link for you." He whispered in their ear and they shivered at the sound of his soft voice.

"Mm... That does sound good... but I have a feeling there's a catch." YN said. Even in their tipsy state, they could reason and detect the boys wanted something in return.

"Now we're talking." Billy said and smirked, running his hand up and down YNs thigh. "We don't want much just..." He paused and stepped between YNs legs, running both his hands up their thighs and lifting their dress up the tiniest bit. "Wanna have a little fun with you, that's all..."

"It'll be good for you babe, you'll get exactly what you want, hm?" Stu said softly and placed his large hands on their waist.

YN was nearly melting at their soft touches and in their lack of sobriety Billy and Stu's offer sounded more than satisfying.

"Mm, you have a deal then." They replied and ran their left hand up Billy's chest.

"That's what I like to hear."

#billy loomis smut #billy loomis x you #scream (1996)#billy loomis x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader #ghostfacesmut #stu macher smut #stu macher x billy loomis #stu matcher x reader

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maximumsass · 3 months ago

Text

Green Eyes of Envy Pt. 7

Author’s Note: Hello my Schemmenti fanfic village! Here is part 7 to Green Eyes of Envy! A lot of this is based off my hometown and family dynamics. The hotel thing in the story is a dream of mine cause I did work at this really fancy resort and it has been a dream of mine to have a significant other surprise me with booking a room there, I’m having it happen to the reader and therefore speaking it into existence for myself! Haha! Again Mel’s just this soft puddle of mush when it comes to the reader and wants to take care of the reader as much as possible. I really love their dynamic and it makes my heart so happy writing it! Part 8 is already in the works! Hope y’all enjoy! Sending you all da hugs and positive vibes.

Warning: Very judgmental asshole mother and a very obnoxious amount of fluff!!

Synopsis: You fly to Michigan for thanksgiving break. The thing you don’t expect is to have a full out fight in the middle of a Culver’s with your extremely judgmental mother about you being with Mel. Will you act like everything’s fine and not tell the redhead? Will these lead to you guys breaking up? Or will Mel be your superwoman and swoop in and save the day? Mel definitely has a few surprises up her sleeve for you. Keep reading to find out what goes down in Michigan!

Word Count: 6k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

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You get to the airport, your driver gets out and gets your bag for you and then you walk into the airport.

(Y/N): hey baby girl, made it to the airport safely and I’m texting ya like I was instructed to. Now focus on the kids and don’t worry about me. Xoxo

Mel: Glad you made it to the airport safely. Cause if ya didn’t I’d have to get one of my guys to have a word with the driver. Haha. I can focus on the kids and worry about you at the same time! I’m a very talented multitasker. You better still text me when you get through security, when you get on the plane, when you land and when you get home! I promise you aren’t gonna interrupt anything. I know you’re miss independent and that you’re fine but you texting me is to reassure me that you’re good. It’s comforting to me, and I know you love comforting me. You’re one of the most important things in my life now ya know, I gotta know that you’re okay. I miss you already. I love you so much princess.

(Y/N): I love you more my sweet girl. I miss you already too! Fine I’ll text you throughout the day cause I do love comforting you amore. One of the most important things huh? Damnn I must be doing something right! Haha. Have a great day at work gorgeous girl! I’ll text ya later. 😘

You get through security and the plane ride goes smoothly. You text Mel as she instructed, she sends you mushy texts full of how much she loves and misses you already and thank you for updating her. The redhead is truly shocked at how soft and sappy you’ve made her, if Mel before getting together with you would’ve seen the texts she was sending you, she would think who the hell stole my phone! She can’t help but chuckle to herself, it’s so funny how someone could walk into her life and change everything. But she’s so glad you changed everything for her.

You get off the plane and go to baggage claim to get your suitcase. Hands cover your eyes, you feel their arms.

“Becks!!!” You exclaim as you turn and see your sister and you pull her in for a hug.

“Hey big sis! I’ve missed you!!” Becks says as you two hug.

“I’ve missed you more hun!” You say as you pull back to look at her. “Look at you with your cute little outfit! Looking like a snack, breaking hearts and taking names!” You exclaim.

“You know how that’s the way the (Y/L/N)’s girls play!” Your sister exclaims.

“I don’t know girl, Melissa, man I think she’s the one.” You say and look at your sister to see her reaction.

“(Y/N)! Y’all have only been dating for three months!! Do you know how crazy that sounds?!”

She says in a shocked tone.

“Trust me I know. And everything inside me is like you’re being stupid, knock this shit off! But we’ve known each other and have been friends for two years prior to us getting together. Like if we didn’t have that going for us, I’d be like no we’re 100% just getting caught up in everything and I’d end things. But that’s not the situation here.” You explain as you grab your bag and start walking back to where Becks parked.

“Oh that’s right! I always forget that y’all have worked together this whole time. Okay so maybe slightly less crazy. Does she treat you right hun? Cause that’s the number one thing I care about and want for you.” She says looking at you with genuine care.

“Well you know what a stubborn little terror I can be about anyone helping and taking care of me. And she’s just so patient and talks me down where I feel safe enough to be like okay she’s doing this out of love and doesn’t think any less of me. And I don’t have to tell you how much that speaks volumes to her character but to the fact that she really does see me and understand me.” You say with a big smile as you think about how gentle the redhead has been with you in those difficult times.

“Dang (Y/N)! I never thought I’d hear you say that about someone! That’s a big fucking deal. No wonder you think she’s the one.” Becca says as you two get in the car.

“Yeah, she makes me pretty damn happy. I really do love her.” You say as you look at Becca again with a big smile.

“Well good sis! That makes me so happy to hear! I’m happy for you both.” Becca looks at you mirroring your big smile.

You get home, your parents and your brother Jake are so excited to see you. And you get settled and unpacked. You all go out for dinner at Culver’s because it’s one of the top things you miss about living in Michigan, especially the cheese curds!

“So (Y/N) how are things going with work?” Your dad asks.

“Good! I feel like I’ve settled in at Abbott and feel a lot more confident about teaching as well as coming up with class accommodations that fit well with the kiddos and IEP’s are a lot less daunting. And the teachers and staff I work with are all very passionate about creating a great educational experience for the students. Not to mention they’re all super nice.” You say.

“Some of them, a little too nice.” Your mom throws in.

“Look I know that y’all don’t agree with the relationship that I’m in currently. I can understand that me dating someone who is close to your and dad’s age could be uncomfortable for you.” You say.

“It’s not just uncomfortable, it’s downright inappropriate on that woman’s end.” Your mom says.

“Her name is Melissa. And you have to remember I’m a full grown ass woman, this isn’t some creepy ass thing where I’m 18 and she’s 50. It’s crazy to me how hard you’re judging not just her but her and I as a couple, when you don’t even know her and haven’t even listened when I try to tell you how well she treats me and makes me feel really loved and supported.” You say to your mom, forcing yourself not to cry.

“Okay let’s get some shakes!” Jake announces, so that the conversation will end.

You sit there not saying another word. You go home and you go straight to your room. You should’ve known your mom would be like this. You should’ve just canceled the trip, then you’d be with Mel feeling happy and loved instead of feeling judged and miserable.

As if she knew that you were thinking of her, your phone started to ring, the redhead was FaceTiming you. Okay you got to get it together and act like everything’s fine. You take a deep breath and accept the call.

“Oh my god I finally get to see your beautiful face! I’ve missed seeing it all day!” Mel exclaims.

You can’t help but chuckle. “I’ve missed seeing your face too gorgeous as well as seeing other things!” You say with a big smirk.

“Oh is that right?” Mel asks seductively. You nodd with a shy smile. “I knew you were only with me for my body!” She faux accuses you with a smirk.

“You caught me! Just wanted a nice trophy wife on my arm!” You tease.

“And now you’re not playing fair cause you know how it melts my heart when you call me your wife, even if it has trophy in front of it.” Mel says to you with a big smile.

“Mission accomplished then.” You say with a smile.

“You goof! How was your day princess?” Mel asked softly.

“How was work?” You ask trying to deflect.

“You know your deflection tactics don’t work on me miss! Talk to me baby. Please. Let me be there for you, and take care of my gorgeous girl, even if it’s virtually.” She says gently looking at you concerned.

“It’s my fucking mom. We’re having a pleasant dinner, my dad asked me how work was going. I answered and part of what I said, was the people are super nice. And my mom chimes in and says some of them, a little too nice. Which is like does she think that I’m stupid and won’t notice the indirect shots that she fired at you. Which I’m sorry I don’t care if it’s my mother or the pope himself, I will not let anyone talk badly about you in front of me, I’m shutting that shit down so fast! So I decide to be the bigger person and be like I understand why you feel uncomfortable about the situation, trying to empathize with them so that possibly I could get them to listen to me. And then she cuts me off and says you choosing to be with me is inappropriate because I guess in her head she thinks because you’re older, you should know better. I honestly don’t even know what she meant by that! And then I was like it’s literally so crazy that y’all are judging her when you don’t even know her and you won’t listen to me talk about you or us as a couple and how well you treat me and how supported and loved you make me feel. And now I’m in my room feeling so stupid for even coming and thinking my mom could even remotely be supportive or at least non-judgmental about us.” You say equally sounding upset and frustrated.

You watch Melissa close her eyes and take a deep breath, you know that she’s trying to not be upset about what you just said.

“And now I just upset you and you were so happy when you fucking called. Fuck, I literally just suck! You know what you don’t deserve this, like you deserve someone who’s mom isn’t a judgemental controlling freak. I’m already a lot as is it and then, add this to it and it’s just a dumpster fire. I should let you go find someone who is so much easier than me.” You say quietly and look up and blink trying to stop the tears from falling.

“Baby please look at me.” She says gently. You take a deep breath and then look into those gorgeous green eyes of hers. “Good girl. Now first things first, you (Y/N) (Y/L/N) are the love of my life, and if I deserve better then I don’t want it, because you give me all I could ever want and need and so much more. Do you believe me when I say that?” She asks concerned. You nod and then wipe your eyes. “I need to hear you say it angel.” She says softly.

“I believe you when you say that I’m the love of your life.” You say quietly.

“Good girl. Now I will not let things out of our control be the reason why we break up. It’s clear your mom has made up your mind about me and us. All we can do is act like we’ve been acting this whole time we’ve been together, by loving and supporting each other unconditionally. And we’re gonna hope that she will someday see how happy we make each other and to see that the only thing I want and work everyday to do is to love and take care of you like the queen you are. What do you think about that?” Mel asks looking at you.

“I know you’re right. And I know we gotta stay positive that she’ll come around. But I just feel like I’m being a burden to you.” You say quietly.

“Baby you never have been and never will be a burden to me. Everyone has hard shit, lord knows I have mine. You have to hear me when I say that you aren’t any less deserving of love because of that. And you’re ahead of the game compared to a lot of people because you have a woman who wants to love you for the rest of our lives together if you’ll let me.” She says as she looks at you with such love.

“This better not be you proposing to me.” You tease her and then laugh a little.

“Oh trust me there will be no question in your mind, when I propose to you, pretty girl.” She quips back with a smirk.

“I have no doubt amore mio.” You say with a big smile.

“There’s that gorgeous smile, I know and love. We are going to be just fine baby girl, I promise. Do you at least feel a little better amore?” She asks.

“Yeah I feel better now that I talked it out with you angel.” You say with a smile.

“Good! Now you’re not allowed to say the phrase “let you go” to me ever again. Cause you my love are stuck with me for the next 40+ years, so you better get used to it! And I need you to know that hearing that shit come out of your mouth was terrifying and hurtful to me. But I know that wasn’t your intention. (Y/N), I can’t picture my life without you, and if I get my way, I’ll get you for the rest of my life. You know how I do my death grips in the morning when our alarm goes off and I won’t let you go. You better believe I’m doing that metaphorically with our relationship.” She says with a smile.

“I’m sorry that I scared and hurt you baby, I was just so upset. I will never bring up ending our relationship again just because we’re going through something hard. Also you’re a dork!” You giggle. “But I will say I love when you death grip me in the mornings and I love that you’re metaphorically death gripping us together.” You say looking adoringly at her.

“I forgive you gorgeous girl. And you love that I’m a dork!” She quips at you.

“I really do!” You agree with her.

“So now we have to come up with a game plan tomorrow for you. Cause I will not have you be upset on thanksgiving! It’s just not happening! Is there somewhere away from your mom that you and your siblings could hangout at? Also you can have a few drinks throughout the day, that’ll definitely make your mom at least minimally tolerable. But you gotta have gatorades in between drinks, pretty girl. I’ll bug you about it tomorrow and remind you to do that. Aren’t the white ones your favorite?” She asks.

“We could hang out in the basement, she’s in the kitchen the whole day so it’s definitely a safe bet that she won’t come down there. I was planning on drinking. And the whole Gatorade comment cause you know I forget to hydrate when I’m drinking is very cute of you but also stop knowing me so well!” You tease her. “And look at you remembering my favorite flavor!” You exclaim.

“Good then it’s settled youse guys will just hang out in the basement. I will never stop! Besides that’s what makes me such a good girlfriend. You really should think about giving me that promotion to fiancé!” She says with a big smirk.

“I will keep that in mind.” You say smirking back.

You get a text, your DoorDash order is on it’s way. You mouth drops open and you look at the redhead in shock.

“Mel…did you just DoorDash something for me? Hold up… did you just DoorDash that white Gatorade to me?!” You exclaim.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She says all coy

“Oh my god you so did! Babyyyy, you didn’t have to do that!! How is it possible you're over 500 miles away and you’re still taking care of me?” You ask as you tear up again. (Happy tears)

“Because I love you so incredibly much. And nothing will stop me from taking care of you amore. I got you, and I will always have you. If it’s something that I can control, it will be handled. I know you didn’t say it but you need to be reminded, you deserve to be treated with this level of care. And I will spend the rest of our lives together giving you the highest level of care princess.” She says softly and you can see the tears welling up in her eyes.

You look at her and think to yourself how lucky you are to be loved by Melissa. “I love you so much baby girl. And I hope I can give you everything that you give to me.” You say smiling at her.

You get a notification that the DoorDash driver is at your place and you go get the Gatorade from the driver and then put it in the fridge and then go back to your room.

“You already do angel, I couldn’t have asked for a more amazing woman who makes me feel so incredibly special.” Mel says. “I wish you were here, I’d take you in my arms and pull you in close and put your head on my chest, and we just lay there feeling each other’s love radiating from the other.” She says softly.

“Mmmm, that sounds amazing. You know that’s my favorite way to cuddle. I love listening to your heart beat and your breathing slow down until I know you’re asleep and then I fall asleep shortly after.” You say.

“I know you do baby. You want to stay on FaceTime while we sleep and then technically we can wake up together on thanksgiving morning.” She says with a big smile.

“I love that idea, it’ll help me miss you less.” You say yawning.

“Let’s go to bed my angel. Besides, unlike some people, I have to get up early to start cooking stuff!” She teases you.

“You know if I was there, I’d be waking up with you and helping you in whatever way I could with the food.” You say.

“I know amore. You are my favorite sous chef.” She says and winks at you.

“Well I’ll let us both go to bed. Sweet dreams gorgeous girl. I love you. And I’ll see you in the morning.” You say and then blow her a kiss.

“Sweet dreams princess. I love you more! I’ll see ya tomorrow!” She says and then blows you a kiss.

You wake up to the sounds of your mom working on her portion of the food today in the kitchen. You look at the alarm clock that reads 10 a.m. and then you hear “Good morning my sleeping beauty.” And you think you must be dreaming, so you look around the room confused. Then you hear Jessica Rabbit’s adorable giggle. “Turn over so I can see you pretty girl.” She instructs softly. You turn over and there your gorgeous woman is in her eagle’s sweatshirt and black leggings in her kitchen, looking at you with such love.

“Morning baby.” You say sleepily with a big smile.

“How’d you sleep amore mio?” She asks as she cuts some vegetables for some dish she’s making you assume.

“Not too bad actually. But I did get to fall asleep with you, so it makes sense I slept pretty good.” You report. “How’d you sleep my gorgeous girl? How long have you been up for?” You ask.

“I slept pretty good too. As you said, sleeping on FaceTime with you really was comforting to me. Now we know what to do if one of us takes a trip. I woke up at like 7:30 to get things started and as you know that’s sleeping in compared to a work day. When I woke up you were facing me and I don’t think I tell you this enough when we’re together but you look so freaking cute when you sleep! I may have took a picture or two for my secret stash.” She says with a smirk.

“You literally think everything I do is cute. Why am I not surprised you took pictures? And your “stalker” photo album you have of me can’t be called a secret stash when you look at it when I’m sitting right next to you on the couch.” You tease her.

“You love my gentle stalking tendencies! Just add it to the long list of my amazing attributes.” She jokes as she flips her hair.

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god I could hear that eye roll all the way in Philly!” She teases. “You my love need to get your cute ass out of bed and eat some breakfast.” She says looking at you smiling.

“Are you going to always make sure I eat every meal?” You tease her.

“Yes ma’am! I know you have a weird history with food, so I’m always gonna check on you and your eating. And it’s not because I don’t think you got it, cause I know you do. It’s just nice to have support around stuff that we don’t love doing that we have to do. It’s like you helping me with my cbd lotion for my arthritis every night. Does it make me feel like I’m your fucking grandma, yes! But does it also make me feel so cared for by you, yes!” She says smiling. “And besides I need my future wife to live a long healthy life with me!” She exclaims.

“Okay you sold me! You always make me melt when you call me that, ya know?” You say softly.

“I know baby, I feel the same way. I think we both feel that way because we know we’ve finally have found the right person. God it makes me emotional just talking about it.” Mel says and you can see she’s willing herself not to cry.

“Awwwww baby, it’s good tears though. It’s like relief and all the other emotions washing over us being like we don’t have to search anymore, we can just lie safely in each other’s arms and rest.” You say with a shy smile.

“You speak so beautifully sometimes and it always surprises me in the best way possible. I love you so much amore mio. You better be saving that shit for our vows.” She says and then laughs. “Now go eat your breakfast please if not for yourself do it for me.” The redhead says with her big puppy dog eyes.

“Okay I’ll do it just for you. I hope all your cooking endeavors are successful! I know they’ll all turn out delicious! And you better save me some leftovers, you know I’m obsessed with your cooking! I’ll talk to you later amore.” You say smiling big at her.

“I will definitely make sure to save you some leftovers! I’ll talk to you later my angel! I love you!” She says with a big smile.

“Love you more! Bye!” You say.

“Byeee!” She says and waves and then you end the call.

You, Becca, and Jake hangout in the basement and watch movies you all used to love when you were kids. You had a few drinks throughout the day and just like she said Mel made sure you drank Gatorade in between drinks. The meal with your parents was tolerable, the food was good and your mom kept the conversation light.

After the thanksgiving meal, your phone starts ringing. It’s Jessica Rabbit FaceTiming you.

“Hey pretty girl!” She says when you answer.

“Hey my love! What’s up?” You say with a big smile.

“Everyone wants to say hi to you!” She says with a big smile and then she flips her camera around and you hear a chorus of Happy thanksgiving (Y/N)! as she pans around the table showing most if not all of the Schemmenti’s.

“Happy thanksgiving everyone!” You exclaim.

She stops the camera on Nonna. “We miss you dearly (Y/N)! It’s definitely not the same without you here! But I hope you had a wonderful thanksgiving with your family!” The Schemmenti matriarch says to you with a big smile.

“Awww Nonna thank you, you’re too sweet! I miss y’all too! I’ll definitely spend next Thanksgiving with you guys, my mouth is already watering thinking about the delicious food we’ll have next year!” You say with a big smile.

“I’m gonna hold you to coming next year (Y/N)! Now have a good rest of your time home! I know Melissa has been missing you, so you get back here safely so you can take care of our girl, okay?” Nonna says.

“Yes ma’am, I will do my best to get back safe and taking care of Melissa is the number one thing on my to-do list when I get back. I hope y’all have a great rest of your thanksgiving!” You say.

The camera turns back to Melissa and she’s wearing a big smile. “So as you can see everyone misses you but I definitely miss you the most! I just wanted to call and let everyone say hi and so you could see everyone! I’ll call you tonight. I love you so much amore mio.” She says. In the background you can hooting and hollering as well as whistling. “Youse guys better shut it, before I come over there and make you!” The redhead threatens her family. You can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll talk to you later, gorgeous. Love you more! Byeee!” You say as you wave to her.

“Bye beautiful!” She says as she waves back and then you end the call.

On Black Friday you, your sister and your mom have a pamper yourself day. You start out the morning getting massages, then you get facials, then you end with getting your nails done. You were glad that you were being kept busy, it helped you not miss Mel so much.

You were at the nail salon and you and your sister were just letting your toes dry. Your mom had run home because she got done early and wanted to get the house in better shape from the Thanksgiving festivities that went on yesterday.

“So do you feel different with Melissa than you have in your previous relationships?” Your sister asks you.

“Yeah it’s truly night and day, like there’s no comparison. I didn’t know that I could feel really truly loved and she makes me feel that way every day.” You say smiling.

The bell rings signaling a new customer coming in. You look over, that’s weird the woman who just walked in looked a hell of a lot like Jessica Rabbit.

“Becks, you see that woman who just came in. I swear to god it’s Melissa’s Michigan doppelgänger! Isn’t it weird that some people have that going on?!” You say to your sister looking amused.

You realize the woman is carrying a gorgeous bouquet of roses. Mmm she’s lucky, got those flowers probably from someone special you think to yourself. Before you know it the woman is walking in your direction. You look away and start messing with your phone. The woman sits right next to you.

“(Y/N) look she sat right next to you.” Your sister chuckles.

“I mean she is my girlfriend’s doppelgänger so it makes sense.” You quip back.

“I dare you to say something to her.” Your sister says with a mischievous smile.

“Are we 12 again? Fine I accept the dare to add some entertainment to your extremely dull life.” You tease.

You turn to the woman. She smiles at you. You smile back. “Hi, I just had to say that those flowers are gorgeous.” You say.

“Thank you. They’re for you.” The woman says looking at you so lovingly.

And then your jaw drops and you look back at your sister who smiles and nods and then you look back at the woman.

“Mel?” You say in disbelief.

“Hey pretty girl.” She says.

“Shut the fuck up! No fucking way! Shut up!” You exclaim and then you fly out of the salon chair and into the redhead’s arms and then immediately start sobbing. You just hug her for what seems like forever.

“Oh my god (Y/N). You’re acting like the woman just came home from war or something.” Becca teases.

You flip her off. You finally break the hug and sit back in the chair to let your toes dry completely.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as you squeeze her hand.

“Surprising my gorgeous girl. After you met my family, I reached out to Becca and your folks to ask if it was okay if I crashed your thanksgiving weekend together and surprise you. I think I can confidently say the mission was accomplished.” She says with a smirk.

“No shit, it was accomplished. I was floored! I literally was saying to Becca when you came in that it was the Michigan Doppelgänger of you.” You say chuckling.

“Do you really think Michigan would have a Philly 11?” Melissa teases you.

“Oh honey, there’s only one Philly 11 even in Philly.” You say smiling as you lean towards her and kiss her softly.

Mel turns her attention to your sister when you break away. “Hey I just want to thank you for helping me pull this off, I really appreciate it.” She says to Becca.

“Of course. You’re very welcome. I know I give her a lot of shit. But from what she’s told me about you, you make her really happy and feel safe, loved, and supported. And that’s all I could ever want for her in terms of a relationship. So thank you for taking such good care of her.” Becca says with a smile.

“She deserves all of it and so much more. I just feel lucky to call her mine.” She says and caresses your cheek.

The nail technician comes over and tells you your toes should be dry.

You put your boots on and walk arm in arm with Mel up to the cash register with Becca not far behind.

“Let me pay for your nails guys.” Mel says to you and Becca.

“You don’t have to do that babe.” You say pulling her closer to you.

Mel looks at you and you know that she is trying to make a good first impression on Becca.

“That’s very sweet of you hun. Thank you for treating us.” You say squeezing her arm.

“Yeah Melissa, seriously thank you.” Becca says smiling at Mel.

When everything was paid you walked out to the cars.

“I grabbed her bag just like you instructed.” Becca says to Mel and then proceeds to take your suitcase out of the trunk of her car. Mel grabs it so fast it makes your head spin, she always likes to help you with your bags but knows you're stubborn and if you get to it first, you’ll insist you got it. The woman knows you inside and out, and you love that she does.

“Why did you ask her to bring my bag?” You let go of her to face her, arms crossed.

“Hey weirdo she’s trying to romance you with another surprise! Stop being a butthead! You truly are a saint for putting up with all of this Melissa.” Becca says as she gestures to you.

Mel steps close to you and takes your face in her hands. You feel yourself relax completely and you put your hands in her back pockets and pull her closer to you.

“Do you remember when you told me about you working for that really nice hotel in the summers during college in your hometown?” She asks you.

“Mhmm.” You say looking at her curiously.

“Well during that conversation you said that one of your dreams was to stay at that hotel and see what it was like as a guest. So I booked us a room there for the weekend to make that dream come true.” She says with the biggest smile.

For the second time today Melissa has made you cry. “You did not! I can’t believe this.” You say through your tears. “I don’t deserve this.” You say as you wipe your tears.

“Look at me.” She says as she gently takes your chin and guides it until you’re looking directly at her gorgeous emerald eyes. “You always put everyone else first before yourself. You always make it a priority to make me feel so cared for, loved and supported. You definitely deserve this. Let me put you first this weekend. Let me spoil my angel. I love you so fucking much (Y/N). And I hope you know that this isn’t a just this weekend thing, this is the rest of your life with me thing. So you better get used to it, pretty girl.” Melissa says and then kisses you softly.

“Damn it, y’all are better than watching the bachelor. Got me crying and everything!” Becca exclaims.

“I love you more amore mio.” You say softly.

You then turn to Becca. “We’ll see you for dinner with the parental units.” You say with a smile.

“Sounds good! Melissa I apologize for our parents in advance. They’re just very set in their ways and what they think our lives should look like. They can’t see through their own bullshit. If they don’t see how happy and in love you two are, disregard their opinion. I hope for both of your sake that they surprise us and they’re genuinely supportive of y’all.” Becca says.

“Yeah she knows about the whole Culver’s discussion that happened on Wednesday. I understand where they’re coming from to a certain degree, like yeah I’m dating someone who’s close in age to them and could technically be their friend when you put age into the equation. But she’s not! And the other issue that we’d both struggle with is if she had kids that were close to my age. But she doesn’t so that’s a nonissue. It’s just upsetting to me that they’re so closed minded if it doesn’t look exactly like their lives.” You say as you shake your head.

Melissa puts her arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to her. “It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.” She says softly as she kisses your head.

“Let’s all cross our fingers. Bye hun. I loved spending today with you as always.” Becca says and then gives you a hug. “Melissa it was really nice finally meeting you in person, again thanks for the nails.” She says as she hugs Mel. And then she gets into her car.

You go to grab your suitcase and feel Melissa playfully pull you back.

“You little shit! You’re gonna let me get your bag. Because you know how much I love you and how much I want to take care of you. So let me do that god damn it.” She says smirking at you.

“Fine.” You huff. She looks at you and pulls you closer to her.

“You know what will make you feel better? Kissing me.” She says in her flirty voice with a big smirk.

“You’re not wrong.” You say softly as you take her face in your hands and kiss her with a burning desire.

“Damn girl. Save it for the hotel.” She teases you and then smacks your ass.

She opens the trunk of the rental car and puts your suitcase next to hers. You patiently wait for her to get that all situated and then let her open your car door for you. You still can’t wrap your head around the princess treatment you get from her, but you knew it was all genuine and she loved taking care of you in those little ways.

“Thanks baby.” You say and she leans down to give you a quick kiss before carefully shutting your door and getting in on her side.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary #fanfic #wlw #queer #lesbian #pansexual #biseuxal #girls like girls #lisa ann walter #Spotify

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year ago

Text

The Karens of the World

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader modern au

summary: Aunt Karen is possibly the worst person you know. So when her annual Independence Day party arrives, you try to give her as little reason to pick on you as possible. Not being single for once should cover most of the topics she complains about. So you ask your friend Bucky to play pretend.

a/n: So I tried this website @nana1000night (make sure to check out their own chats) posted about and my ideas just started overflowing. I wrote this so quick, there may be some tenses errors, but the concept was so fun, I hope you like it.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: fake dating trope, grumpy!Bucky AND protective!Bucky, bullying, a Karen (this should say it all, really), self-doubt, body dysmorphia, mentions of violence, and sooooo much fluff!

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

↑ This movie altered my brain chemistry and also he looks so good OKAY BYE!

“Don’t do that. Don’t do that now, I really need your help,” you plead with a solid stare. But Bucky just broodily stares back at you with an unfazed expression. “Just answer the question, please.”

For a moment it seems as though he‘s squinting his eyes even more at you, trying to assess whether you are kidding or not. But you aren’t. You are in desperate need of help.

“Fine,” he finally breaks.

“Yes!” You exclaim before collecting yourself. “I mean: cool, cool... So, I’ll send you the details later and we can go from there.” You are a little nervous, but that’s what stressful situations do to you. And well, today definitely categorized as one.

“You’re a great friend, you know that, Buck? The best there is!” A desperate attempt to save the situation, but Bucky isn’t having it.

“Yeah, kid. Text me, do... whatever.” He huffs before he stands up to leave. You just wrinkle your nose at the little nickname he frequently calls you. It is stupid, but you don’t want him to call you ‘kid’. You would prefer it if he called you 'doll' or 'sweetheart' like he does all the other women. Hell, you’d even settle for your actual name, but he never calls you that.

You watch as he walks towards the door, but before he reaches it, he turns one more time just to send another annoyed look your way. Talk about being childish.

That was a week ago. And Bucky and you did, in fact, not ‘discuss the details later’. Bucky has merely stared at your messages, cursing himself for having agreed to the stupid plan you laid upon him. But he was committed to doing it anyway and the sooner it was over, the better.

You stare at your phone in silence, the simple text from Bucky making your stomach turn over and over.

I’ll be there.

He has written. And now there is no going back. Which is what you had planned, right? But Somehow, you are still nervous about the whole situation.

You stand in front of the mirror while tugging on the outfit you picked out for today. It is simple and light - perfect for a summer barbecue party. But you can’t help yourself when you look at your reflection. Your aunt Karen would have something mean to say about it anyway - she always does. And if it isn’t the lack of a partner (which is a problem you have temporarily solved for the day), it will be your body or your hair, or the way you speak, or the things you pursue in life. Karen is a textbook housewife, who has nothing to do all day but organize PTA meetings and condescend to everyone who doesn’t live up to her standards. And she has invited to her annual 4th of July party in her suburban family home in New Jersey. It wouldn’t bother you that much if meeting her wouldn’t always be connected to a huge amount of self-doubt and general mental chaos. It just bothers you that Karen makes you hate the parts about yourself you have never looked at critically before.

Your phone pings again - Bucky is here.

He just sits in the parking lot of your apartment building, his hands clenching the steering wheel tightly, and his eyes - as always - broodily staring ahead. He’s never done anything like this - He’s never pretended to be in an actual relationship. What if something goes wrong? What if they all see through this charade? Bucky wants to help you with your little ‘family problem’, as you have called it, but at the same time, he hates the situation he finds himself in because of it.

Bucky sits up straighter when he finally sees you running out of the door and towards his muddy truck. You look pretty, even if your hair is a little tousled from the small run you just did.

“Hey,” you greet with a smile after Bucky stares for a little too long. “Nice shirt.”

Bucky looks down on himself. He is wearing a striped short sleeve button-up that fits him very well, and you have to admit, that your eyes linger on the strip of skin revealed by the two undone buttons a little too long before they sway back to the window when you get inside his car. You feel your skin go up in flames at the thought of it again. Hopefully, this will all go well.

He isn't used to compliments, Bucky notes as he starts the car and backs out of the parking lot. This is just a courtesy; an easy greeting from a friend - no, actually his fake girlfriend for today - to loosen up the tension both of them feel. Bucky clears his throat while making a conscious effort to look away from the woman in his car, who makes him feel kind of... nervous all of a sudden.

The car ride is silent: no music, just the humming of the engine roaring in the background as you stare out the window and watch the trees pass by. Though when Bucky finally pulls into your aunt's neighborhood, you tense up and your hands become clammy - this feels like a really stupid idea all of a sudden.

Bucky parks the car on the street in front of your aunt’s huge house and looks at you. He raises an eyebrow upon noticing how timid you suddenly look.

Crap. Had this been your plan all along? To get him to agree to pose as your fake boyfriend, to have to face your terrible aunt?

Bucky swallows thickly when he takes in your state. “Do we really have to go in?” He asks still hopeful that you would just allow him to turn around again, but that obviously doesn’t happen.

“Unfortunately, we do.” You sigh after taking a deep breath to mentally prepare yourself. It shouldn’t be that hard, right? Just a little white lie to get you through the day. It will be over before you know it. “Thank you again for doing this Bucky, it really means a lot.” You smile one last time and then you get out of the car.

Bucky just watches as you walk towards the suburban home, impatiently waiting for him on the sidewalk where the driveway begins. He isn’t ready for this, but he had promised you.

❁ ❁ ❁

Your heart begins pumping in your chest when Bucky straightens up and takes your hand in his, the other hiding in his pocket. This is actually kinda nice. A squeeze of a hand then the ring of the doorbell. Two times.

“Oh, how wonderful you finally made it!” A slender woman with a blonde bob opens the door with a wide smile: Aunt Karen. “More than fashionably late, I see.” And then her eyes wander beside you where Bucky stands tall and steady with his hand still etched in yours. “Oh my, honey, is this the boyfriend you’ve been telling me about?”

Her eyes shine and for a moment it looks as though they were to pop out of her head from the way she’s gawking at Bucky. Okay, you get it, Bucky is good-looking. No need to think about breaking up your own marriage about it. Your roll your eyes before reminding yourself that you should restrain. The day has just started and you are ready to leave again.

Bucky looks at you uncomfortably, but your hand in his grounds him a little bit. He can’t make you deal with it alone anymore. He agreed to help you and this is - unfortunately - his mess as well now. God, he should remind himself to not be this stupid more often.

“Yes,” he swallows, “we are... uh... seeing each other.” Great job, that definitely didn’t sound forced. Bucky looks between you and your aunt for a moment, trying not to cringe at his own words.

You just send him an apologetic look before entering the house and let Karen pull you into a tight hug.

“Well, you have certainly gained little since the last time I saw you, I can barely fit my arms around you, honey,” Karen jokes but it hits deeper than that. “Must be that relationship weight, don’t we know it, huh?” Unbelievable, not even one minute in and she is already going at it.

You try to ignore the anxiety pooling up in your stomach as you watch Bucky squeeze aunt Karen’s hand a little too tightly. There’s nothing wrong with you, but these comments never cease to make you hate yourself a little bit.

Bucky smiles when he notices the discomfort on Karen's face after the handshake. She silently shakes her hand out and forces a bright smile, but he thinks the message came through. So, he decides against saying something just yet.

“Come on into the yard, the guests are all there!” The blonde woman rushes and leads you through the kitchen and out onto the porch from which you have a nice view of the party. There is a buffet set up, your uncle is at the grill, talking it up with his friends and the rest of the crowd is scattered across the lawn. Some people are playing corn hole and if the hostess weren’t such a pain in the ass, you could probably enjoy this party.

Luckily, Karen disappeared into the crowd once she greeted you, now there’s only Bucky and you.

“Thank God you’re here! I couldn’t stand talking to Grandpa Stan a minute longer. He’s all about his World War Two stories again.” An annoyed redhead approaches you from the side and your mood instantly lightens. You turn and see Tasha greet you with open arms and a playful smile. “You look nice!” She says upon seeing your expression and her smile quickly falters.

“Oh, no. What did she do this time?” She watches intensely, her hands squeezing your shoulders, but now that your cousin is here, there is no need to dwell in the state of depression Karen has put you in.

Bucky just stays silent as he watches you interact with the redhead. He’s trying to stay off to the side, as he doesn’t really know anyone very well. He’s not a social person, which was yet another reason why this whole thing had been a bad idea from the start, but now that he has seen why you needed a fake boyfriend, he is determined to honor his role for the day. He’d do anything to make Karen feel defeated and unsupported after what he has just witnessed. Because whether he likes it or not, you are his friend, and nobody messed with his friends like that.

A sense of protection overtakes him every time he sees Karen pass by close to the both of you, And Bucky has to restrain himself a couple too many times from laying his arm around you.

He watches people laughing and talking from afar, his face blank from expression, his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching out to you.

“Tasha this is Bucky.” You suddenly say and pull him closer, your arm remains around him and he is kind of glad that you officially give him permission to touch in this fake relationship. He blushes a little startled at the gesture anyway. He’s not used to it, but it's kind of nice.

“Bucky Barnes, right? Yeah, I’ve heard my mother talk about you.” Tasha says and Bucky just rolls his eyes. “And I see you’ve met her, too.” She laughs and Bucky knows she’s an ally. “I wish you good luck for today, our family is a menace.”

“Thanks.” Bucky looks over to Karen who is mingling with her guests and a wave of disgust overcomes him. “Hopefully she won’t ruin this holiday.”

“Oh, she will. You can count on it, actually. But with time you’ll learn to deal with it. We have Karen bingo cards at every event to cross off things she does or says. It’s fun if you make it fun. Don’t let her antics bother you too much. The suburbs are the only place she has something to say and she holds on to it for dear life... I pity her most of the time.” Tasha rambles on and on and Bucky takes a liking to her with every word. He smiles and so do you.

“Anyway, I gotta get Grandpa a beer but feel free to mingle, and,” Tasha turns to you as she grabs your hand for a brief moment, her eyes staring into yours intently. “Come find me if she gets too much, okay?”

You just nod at your cousin. Tasha is amazing and she always manages to calm you down after yet another unpleasant encounter with your aunt. God knows why she was cursed with such a pain of a mother, but Tasha makes the best out of it.

Bucky smiles and looks at Tasha walking away. He seems to have already relaxed with her somewhat, so he tries to take her advice and ignore Karen’s antics. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

❁ ❁ ❁

It's about 30 minutes later when you are off to talk to some other family members who haven’t seen you in a while and Bucky has decided to check out the buffet. He eats in silence, his gaze swaying over the yard - people watching. He finds comfort in it every now and then. But unfortunately, his peace isn’t lasting long.

“So Bucky, tell me. How did you and my niece meet?” Karen appears next to him and holds out a bottle of beer to him.

Bucky is a little startled but he swallows his hot dog and uses the time to come up with a story. What would you want him to say? Some romantic crap, probably, but Bucky would much rather tell her that you met at a burn-all-Karens petition downtown. Still, he can’t completely ignore his intrusive thoughts, so he simply takes the bottle and answers with a straight face as he watches Karen's expression falter.

“In prison.” Hopefully, this would shut her up.

"Oh? You are a prison guard?” She asks with intrigue, adamant that he is still the glorious man she makes him out to be, and Bucky just sends her a knowing smile.

“Something like that.”

The blonde bob shakes in his peripheral. “Well, it was only a matter of time until she would end up there.” Karen shrugs but Bucky feels anger bubbling inside him.

“What do you even mean by that?” It becomes harder to control himself now.

Your eyes move over to Bucky as you let your relative’s speech about the perfect lawn mower pass by you in a breeze. He looks slightly irritated and uncomfortable, his shoulders are tense but he’s holding up well, and Karen doesn’t seem to suspect anything. Of course she doesn’t, though, she is shallow.

“I just can't seem to believe that an attractive and interesting man such as yourself would settle for someone so... bland.” And just like that, snobbish middle-aged white women made it to the top of his blacklist.

Karen sips on her cocktail with a winning smile, she must have known how insecure she could make you with the confidence that radiated off of her right now.

The paper plate in Bucky’s hand crumbles at her words. His anger is clearly written on his features, turning solid by the second. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

It just bursts out of him, he can’t stop it - it just feels right. How dare this bitch call you boring? You of all people and not him? The anger crawls up his neck with every second he has to spend close to your aunt and at one point he can’t take it anymore.

“Bingo!” Someone yells from the back of the yard, but Bucky just looks at Karen with his death stare.

“Your niece is the most wonderful person I’ve ever met. She’s smart and kind and courageous and so unbelievably goodhearted. You don’t know how lucky you are to have her in your life. And yet all you do is patronize her. The fact that you don’t see that is seriously pathetic. You are a grown woman, for god’s sake. I highly recommend that you fix your attitude or I won’t be responsible for what happens next,” he sneers into Karen's flabbergasted face.

The whole party has gone quiet. People have stopped talking and are all turned to look at the disturbance with the potential to bring far more entertainment than anything else that they’re doing.

You decide to intervene before something else happens. You rush towards Bucky after excusing yourself and drag him out of the yard with a solid ‘Can I talk to you, babe?’. Bucky just glares at Karen for good measure before he lets himself be led away by you. He’s tense, with his hands clenching in fists, he looks like he’s ready to strangle your aunt - as if there is a lot more at play than your feelings in his response to her.

“I swear... that woman...” He grumbles with vicious eyes, he grinds his teeth in frustration and the muscles in his jaw pop a little.

“I know, but... well, that’s just how she is.”

“How have you gone this long without knocking her over with a bat?” You need to refrain from laughing out loud at Bucky’s comment.

“I can’t change it. Punching her won’t help. But, hey,” you push a white paper into his hand and upon short inspection, he realizes it’s a bingo card. “We can make fun of it. New round just started.”

You hug him and push a quick kiss to his cheek before you step back and let him calm down a bit. Bucky has to smile at the card in his hand and he looks down to hide the small blush creeping over the heated spot on his cheek. His hand covers the place you kissed and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. When did he start feeling this way?

“Come on now. I want you to meet my Grandpa. I think you’ll get along well.”

❁ ❁ ❁

“Meet Stan, my grandfather.” You say once you reach the small circle of people that gathered around your grandfather.

“Pleased to meet you, sir. My name’s Bucky Barnes.” You watch them shake hands and Stan’s eyes brighten at the additional listener.

“Pleasure to meet you, young man. Grab yourself a beer and sit down I was just about to tell the story of how a grenade ended up going off right next to me.”

You exchange a short look with Tasha who has heard the story about as often as you have before, but when your eyes sway to Bucky, you notice the intrigue in his body language. He scrambles to sit down close to Stan with his hands folded over his knees.

“You’re telling me that you survived a grenade? A literal grenade?” Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up and it's like watching a child on Christmas Day. “You’re either tough as nails or incredibly lucky, sir.”

So, hooking Bucky up with your grandpa was a great success. He seemed to be the first person that was actually interested in Stan’s stories from the war. And while you had to not worry about Karen steering up more arguments with Bucky anymore, you watch him interact with the rest of your family with awe.

The day passes by and Bucky seems to catch a conversation with Stan every now and then. He’s interested in history and your grandfather seems like the perfect source for the answers he’s been seeking. But when the moon rises and the fireworks have died down, you decide it's time to go home.

Bucky is talking to your grandfather again when you approach him from behind. In a weird shoot of confidence, you wrap your arms around him and place a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

“Are you ready to go home?” You’re a little nervous but you don’t pull away, and Bucky is strangely content with the amount of physical contact he’s gotten today. Still, he tries to stuff the weird feelings in his chest away when he turns in your arms.

“Yeah,” he looks at you with soft eyes, “I think I’m ready to go home.” But you can’t help but think that his statement holds a little more than the answer to your question.

❁ ❁ ❁

You smile when Bucky opens the car door for you. You didn’t expect it, and it almost looks as if Bucky didn’t expect it either, but you’re not complaining. He starts the car in silence but this time, there is faint music coming from the radio. The street lights pass by the window as you look out until your apartment complex comes into view.

Once the car is parked again, you turn around to Bucky. He makes no effort to move and it doesn’t bother you at all. It’s nice in the car. Cool from the AC and Bucky’s presence is a pleasant addition to the calm the car ride home has brought to you.

“Thank you for coming with me today. I know it wasn’t exactly what you expected and I am so sorry for my family. They are a lot... I just...” You fumble with your fingers before looking back up at him again. “I don’t think I would have survived this party without you. It really means a lot.” You finally finish and it feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

Bucky is quiet for a while, thinking about what you have just said. He feels weird thinking about how many of these family gatherings you had to endure without anyone stepping up for you before, and he has the strong urge to just cradle you in his arms and protect you from all the Karens of the world - let nothing ever touch you like that again. He had seen your heart break a little today and he didn’t like it at all.

His eyes avert from the windshield when he turns to you and gazes into your eyes intently. There’s a lot going on in them, but it all radiates comfort to you. And then, almost like a button has been pushed, he grabs your chin and pulls you closer, his hand running down your cheek. There’s a moment of complete standstill. Everything is zeroing in on him and then, after a beat or two, he pulls you into him and kisses you.

It's short and it's sweet but it holds more feelings than you have ever gotten from a kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes just run over your face. He doesn’t know what just happened and neither do you. It’s like a wild dream - a good one.

“What... what was that for?” Your whisper barely reaches his ears and Bucky struggles to construct a proper sentence with the way your eyes lock with his in awe.

“I... It’s... I just... couldn’t help myself,” he confesses while still shaking out of his trance. Uh oh. What if this was a mistake?

He attempts to pull away reluctantly, but you stop him. “No, no it’s fine,” you grab his hand and place it back on your face, “do it again, please.”

Bucky’s breath staggers when you say that and for a moment, he freezes completely. Is this really happening? And how is he feeling like this when he didn’t even see you this way when this day started?

The grip on his wrist is gentle, but he’s glued to you. Everything, every sense of his is pulled in your direction until you completely consume him. And he lets it happen. You haul him onto another kiss and this one is even better - more passionate, more... just more. He can’t get enough of you and he wonders how he has gone so long without it - this feeling of flying when you touch him.

Your hand grabs his shoulder and your fingers push into his tender muscles. It feels good, though and Bucky strives to have you even closer. The warmth is all-consuming but he doesn’t mind in the slightest, that the night outside his car is a hundred degrees or that just an hour ago this was all pretend. It certainly isn’t anymore.

“I really like you, Bucky. I hope my family didn’t chase you away. I know that they can be a handful sometimes, but you handled them so well and-“

“Doll,” Bucky stops you and your heart skips at the nickname. His eyes are shining in the dim light falling through the windshield, but you can still see every speck of grey in the deep blue. He’s trying to convey how he feels, but he believes it’s not enough. His nose nudges yours and then he whispers softly: “I really like you, too.”

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