#Kids birthday party Brooklyn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

randomshyperson · 1 year

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Pure Heroine Series Part Six - Still Sane

Summary: You and Wanda have been friends for years, but now, you're grown up. Nothing stays as it was. | Album Inspired series "Pure Heroine" by Lorde.

Warnings: (+18), mutual Pining, friends to lovers, fluff, some typical trope angst, high school to college, making out, drinking, substance abuse, fighting, implied compulsory heterosexuality. | Words: 1.426k

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Pure Heroine Collection |

-&-

The reason for the delay was traffic.

Wanda didn't mind, not as long as her cigarette was lit at least.

The party was going on inside Steve Rogers' apartment, and Brooklyn was full and bustling on the balcony view. The cigarette on her lips came from the box she'd taken from your jacket pocket before you left earlier, and Wanda could smile to herself imagining your grimace when you realized she'd stolen your cigarettes. Perhaps it was a childish way of punishing you for working on her birthday, when after everything that had happened between you, what Wanda wanted most was to keep you by her side, all the time if possible.

While smoking on Steve Rogers' cold balcony, she came to two conclusions: She really was, undeniably and ridiculously in love with you. From here to the moon, and all that cheesy shit they quoted in the movies. Maybe she should get a ring. And the second thing, Wanda wanted to have sex with you tonight.

She blew smoke into the sky, imagining your reaction when she brought up the subject. Flushed cheeks, a hungry look in your eyes, like every time the make-out sessions got heated and she played with the lobe of your ear between her teeth. Maybe she wouldn't say anything. She was just going to wait for everyone to leave the party, and drag you into the bedroom. And pull your hand under her dress so you'd get the message.

The opening of the door took her attention away from the street.

"Hey, birthday girl." It was Natasha, with a casual smile and a leather jacket. She held out her hand, and Wanda handed her the cigarette. "You're not running away from your own party, are you?"

Wanda smiled at the provocation, shaking her head. "I just needed a moment." She mutters, looking down for a moment. "I'm going to tell Y/N tonight that I want to sleep with her."

Nat choked on the drag with a surprised laugh. "Shit, this... is actually good news." She comments good-humoredly. "But to be honest, I thought you two had done that ages ago."

Wanda chuckles, rolling her eyes. "We've almost done it a dozen times." She comments thoughtfully. "Especially when it became official. But then, it just didn't happen. Someone always interrupted, or one of us chickened out." She says sincerely. "I came so close to fucking everything up, Nat. Like, actually fucking us. And I don't think I ever thanked you for calling her that day. Without that, I don't think we would have ever gotten together."

Natasha takes a long drag, shaking her head. "I doubt that very much, Maximoff." She says, gesturing with her cigarette. "You and her have some pretty intense shit going on. Ever since we were kids, you know? More than the Steve and Bucky drama, and I swear to God that's something." The two laugh at the comment. Natasha hands Wanda back her cigarette. "I think if you'd never apologized, you'd end up OD'ing at one of these parties and Y/N would be the person next to your bed."

Wanda looks away, swallowing dry at the mere possibility. When she speaks again, her voice is hoarse. "I don't fucking deserve her."

Nat clicks her tongue indignantly. "Don't say that."

"It's the truth."

"Wanda, shut up." Natasha speaks more seriously and waits for the girl to raise her eyes to her again. "You made a mistake, but there's no one in this world who deserves to be with her more than you do. Have you forgotten how you were there for her with her parents' divorce, or when her grandmother passed away? Because I'm sure she hasn't. And she stays, not just because she's completely in love but because you've already done the same for her. So stop talking shit, and don't let these insecurities try to ruin what you've fought to build."

Wanda hugs Nat around the neck, the girl laughs in surprise but strokes her back. The brunette murmurs a muffled thank you into her friend's hair, and Natasha nods.

A moment later, the moment is broken with a joke about Wanda not being able to keep her pants on, and they leave the balcony into the party laughing.

-&-

You know there's something different.

From the way Wanda looked at you when you arrived, or kissed you in the hallway, pressing your back against the wall and biting your lip before dragging you into the party.

She stayed on your lap almost all night, between games and small talk, until she made a complete mess of you when she licked the cake icing off the corner of your mouth.

She was wildly flirting with you until the tie around your neck started to tighten.

When the punch ran out, and she asked you to help her get some bottles of wine with her in the kitchen, Wanda ended up pressed against the fridge, your hungry tongue on hers and your hands everywhere.

"What are you up to, Wanda?" Your question came against her jaw as she paused for breath. The girl squirmed between you and the fridge, her skin burning and her hips impatient.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She lies in a falsely innocent tone directly into your ear. Nails scratching your back under your shirt are returned with a hickey on her collarbone that makes her whimper.

You gasp affectedly, holding her still with a tight grip on her hips, unable to formulate any new sentence if she kept grinding against you like that. "You've been driving me crazy all night, baby. Would it be rude for us to flee your party? I really want to take you home..."

Truth be told, she was so turned on that all that came out of her throat was a pathetic plea. You kissed her again until her knees gave way and Wanda began to consider taking off her clothes in the middle of Steve Rogers' kitchen.

But somehow, you managed to let go and return to the party with her hand in yours; blurry, automatic goodbyes now that the cake was cut, and Wanda was hugged by everyone before she was outside.

You took her downstairs, hand in hand, which you only released to get into the parked car. Wanda let out a shaky breath and you leaned towards her again.

The thought of the two of you getting home was almost comical now.

Your hands pulled her onto your lap effortlessly, as you gasped into each other's mouths. Wanda sucked on your tongue, her hips grinding against your lap in the hope that you would help her with the hot knot at the tip of her stomach, and a loud whine when your hands wasted no time. Your fingers pushed the fabric of her panties away and sank into her with ease, the warmth welcoming you deep inside.

The kiss was broken with a dirty moan, and you almost came just from the image. Wanda gripped your shoulders tightly, panting against your mouth as she rode your fingers.

The car rocked gently, and you let your free hand pull her dress down, exposing her breasts. Your fingers moved to play with her nipples, and Wanda moaned against your tongue.

She came just like that, hard and so pretty, for the first time against your hand. In the seat of the car where you had traveled together dozens of times before, looking at you in a way that at the same time was the same and the most unique way she ever did. A hidden message in her stare that you understood with your heart.

You didn't pull out your fingers from her to tell her you loved her as well.

In fact, you sank them deeper and spun them around her warmth to elicit another moan from her. She choked on her own pleading sighs, and you repeated the movements and the words. Wanda moved against your hand and came again before whimpering:

"I love you too, baby."

And you were still her best friend and the person who could tease her with a breathless giggle: "Really, or is that just the two orgasms talking?"

She chuckled too, more affectedly. "Fuck you."

Your thumb pressed her clit, and Wanda bit your shoulder to stifle a loud moan. "I love you too, asshole." You retorted, kissing her jaw. "But you'll have to say it again tomorrow when you're not riding my fingers."

Wanda bites your mouth to make you shut up.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #pure heroine series

321 notes · View notes

sunlightmurdock · 1 year

Text

Power and Control | Prologue, Part 1 | Jake Seresin x Reader (18+)

masterlist | prologue pt 2

chapter moodboard | recommended listening

As an unwanted birthday and an important launch approaches, Jake meets his match.

warnings: infidelity. age gap (20s/40s). sugar daddy relationship. scandal. one-sided pining. drama drama drama. SMUT. This content is intended for those 18+ and over, minors dni

…

New York City, the beginning of January. Four days after the New Year, to be exact. Jake steps outside into the increasingly familiar arctic chill of the city air, his breath clouding in front of him as he pulls his phone from the black trench coat hugging his body. His free hand dips into the pocket on the other side, curling around the keys of his rental.

Nadine: *image attatched*

Nadine: Troublemakers talked me into letting them snuggle while daddy’s away.

Jake’s lips quirk upwards. He examines the image on his phone, knowing damn well that those kids insist on sleeping in that bed even when he is there. The picture is taken from the foot of his bed. His children are curled up amongst the pillows, sprawled out impressively far along the length of the custom XL king bed.

Jake’s oldest, his son Cade is laying flat on his front with his face mashed into the pillow. He’s five now, and looking more and more like Jake every day. Tanned skin, green eyes, blonde hair and his wife’s impressively long, dark lashes.

His daughter is about as far as she could get from her brother. Adeline — Addie-Bear — she’s laying the wrong way, lengthways along the bed with her foot pressed into Cade’s stomach, her thumb in her mouth and her pink rabbit tucked up under her arm. She’s turning three next week. She’s Jake’s shadow when he’s home. It’s normally his stomach that her foot’s pressed into.

He taps away at the little keyboard on the screen, that smile lingering on his lips. It’s only 6am back there — she’s up early, and Jake knows why. The same thing she’s been up all hours of the night since November.

Jake: Missing one?

His phone vibrates with another text. Another picture. This time, it’s his wife — Nadine. Dean. She’s wearing a thin-strapped camisole, looking at him through her dark lashes with those big blue eyes, her hair tied back in a neat bun. Cradled against her chest and latched onto one nipple is their youngest. Elliott. Their oops baby, a product of the celebration of Jake’s skyrocket entry into the Forbes’ 300, born on November 12th.

He looks like her. His hair’s dark like hers and his cheeks are pink like hers. Jake’s got two just like him already, he hopes that this one’s all hers. He’s been hoping for more and more of her from the second he met her.

Jake exhales softly, the chill nipping at his cheeks and his ears. He lifts his gaze to the electric skyline, thinking of his family back there outside of Austin, a clear sky of stars.

Jake: Be back before you know it. Hope to find every single one of you in bed and ready to snuggle.

He slips his phone back into his pocket and turns his attention back to the sky. He just stepped out of his hotel, ready to begin the day. Today is the biggest day of his career so far. Well, it’s not — but it feels like it is. People keep telling him it is. Truthfully, ever since he blinked his eyes open this morning and took a look out over the Central Park view, his chest has been feeling tighter and tighter.

In two days, his Brooklyn office is opening. The East Coast launch of his company. Investors, parties, rooftop bars, he’s going to have a busy couple of days. Which is why he has opted to take these few extra moments for himself.

In seventeen hours, Jake turns forty-two. This date has been creeping up on him for a while now, he figured he would get used to the idea at some stage. So far, all he feels about the nearing birthday is dread. Chest-tightening, dark feeling, dread.

Luckily, he doesn’t have a lot of time to wallow in that.

The Rolls Royce in the parking garage is rented, but Jake’s got one the same sitting in the garage back home. The leather feels familiar but the smell is off. His kid hasn’t accidentally punctured an entire can of febreeze in this car, and honestly, he kind of misses the overwhelming scent of Forest Pine every time he opens the door.

He misses everything about home. He misses Nadine’s cooking, and her laugh, and her blow jobs. There haven’t been many of those recently. Even before Elliott. It’s not her either, Nadine hasn’t ever been the problem. She wants him just as much as he wants her.

Jake’s the problem. It’s just that with two kids who come crawling into their bed at all hours of the night, he finds it a little hard to trust that one of them isn’t just going to burst into the room at any minute.

And he travels so much. He’s away so often that by the time he gets home, he usually passes out in the guest room just so that he can actually get some sleep for once. He hasn’t ever been able to sleep on flights. Truthfully, he had thought that his company would allow him to have more time at home. And it does, kind of.

He’s not deployed for months at a time like if he was still in the Navy. He’s just not there that often either.

The drive to the new office is fine. Driving in New York is dull and Jake spends the entire drive with his foot hovering the brake in case some delivery driver steps out in front of the hood. It’s not a delivery driver that does.

It’s a girl in a big coat. She’s got the puffer jacket pulled up around her ears to shield them from the cold and a pair of headphones covering them to make all of that effort redundant.

More importantly, she’s not watching where she’s going. She’s looking down at her phone. Jake won’t know this until much later, but she’s googling him.

She steps out on Jake as he’s halfway around the corner. Luckily for her and his insurance policy, his fighter pilot reflexes haven’t ever failed him yet. The car screeches to a halt. It’s unclear whether she saw it in her peripheral vision or heard it stop, but she whips around anyway.

Pretty face, even when it’s all screwed up and angry. Her hair’s windswept but he can see the effort that went into styling it. Her make-up’s cute. Somebody’s assistant, probably, running late. His eyes flicker down to her legs, then swiftly back up.

Jake stares at her calmly. Then, he lifts his hand from the wheel and gestures for her to keep crossing. The girl narrows her eyes, lifts her hand and flashes her middle finger at him. Jake’s hair is longer now than it is in his Wikipedia picture, she doesn’t have a clue.

Watching her rush off on her way, Jake scoffs and shakes his head. More parents should teach their kids how to cross the road properly.

The office is in Dumbo. He’s told that that’s a good location, but really he doesn’t care. The office isn’t where the important stuff goes down — that’s why he’s always away on these business trips. He should care, he would have cared in the past.

This company means everything to him. Jake can see himself hurtling towards burnout, something’s got to give. There just isn’t room. He doesn’t have time to think about it.

There isn’t a whole lot of parking there, but there are ten spots reserved for his company. One reserved just for him. He’s told that this is also a lot for the area.

Everyone has been talking about him. ‘What do you mean the driver said he wasn’t there?’. Jake’s calm as he pushes open the glass door and strolls into the building. Everyone quickly quietens. The mystery of their missing CEO is suddenly solved.

He remembers wanting this. Wanting the kind of power that made people shut up when he walked into a room.

“Mr. Seresin!” Jake has met the woman speaking a handful of times now. She’s his East Coast liaison. She organized this whole launch while Jake got to enjoy some time at home with his new baby. She’s in her late thirties. He knows she’s got kids too. Two boys, maybe. He doesn’t really remember. Her blonde ponytail swishes as she rushes over to him. “We sent a car for you!”

“I know,” Jake offers her a quick smile as he shrugs his coat off of his shoulders and hands it to a readily available assistant. “I’m sorry, Rosie. I just wanted some quiet time before I’m talking all day.”

People want Jake to be an asshole. He’s handsome, in a classic kind of way too. He’s beyond successful. Graduated from the most elite Naval training programme to exist and enjoyed a twenty year career there. Built a Forbes 300 company from the ground up. Beautiful, smart wife. Perfect kids. And he’s still young, only forty-one now.

But, that’s simply not the case. Jake remembers the name of the East Coast Liaison he has only met once, briefly, over a zoom call three months ago. He remembers that she’s got two boys. He has stepped strategically into the office so far, so as to not disturb the freshly mopped floors.

He knows that his daughter’s rabbit is named Zade — and absolutely not Cade, because she hates her brother for at least 22 hours of the day. He knows that his son plays centre-back on his soccer team, but really would rather be playing goalie. He knows that his wife hates going to the gas station late at night but loves late night gas station snacks.

Rosie’s lips quirk up into a soft smile. Not just at being remembered by such a handsome or impressive man, but because that’s such a human request. Ten minutes of peace this morning before he spends the next two days smiling for every camera in a hundred foot vicinity.

“That makes sense. It really isn’t a problem. You could tell us, you know — we aren’t here to dictate your day,” She explains to him, a team of eager office staff standing nearby ready to meet their new boss. “You’re the boss, Mr. Seresin.”

She watches him visibly relax, his face softening a little.

“Jake.” He corrects calmly, tapping her elbow platonically and stepping around her. “Alright, who am I working with here?”

He’s beyond charming. Everyone loves him. Receptionists, admins, accountants and fee-earners. This launch is going to be easy. It starts off here, at the office, with a press day.

Meaning that Rosie gets to walk a bunch of eager journalists around the office and explain to them exactly what Vulcan is, and stands for. While Jake sits in his office all morning providing interviews, takes a brief break for a networking lunch, and continues with the interviews in the afternoon.

His office is pretty bare, it’s his first time seeing it this morning. High ceilings, black industrial style windows. A designer took the lead with the whole building — Jake remembers getting a lot of phone calls from him. He’s happy with the direction that he took.

Red brick flows through the building, dark floors. Grey and slate colours throughout. Masculine, modern. He likes it.

Almost instinctively, Jake walks to sit behind his desk. A ten foot length of oak, stained to look darker than the wood naturally is. Thick, leather office chair behind it. A computer sits in front of him and blocks his view of the door — he’ll have that moved by the end of the day.

He rarely works off of anything other than his laptop, making this stupidly big monitor redundant. They can make use of it somewhere else, he’s sure.

Spinning about ninety degrees in either direction on the chair, he taps his fingertips against the wood and surveys the room once more.

He wonders briefly if he’ll ever even touch one of the books on the length of bookshelf that spans the ten feet of wall space behind the ten feet of his desk. Almost definitely not.

To the right of the bookshelf, there’s a tall cabinet. Some kind of filing system most likely. To the right, there’s a bar system. All top shelf labels.

He hasn’t ever brought his kids to work with him yet, but he would have to do some serious baby proofing in here if he ever wanted to.

He leans back in the chair and turns his chin towards the window. He’s got a pretty great view of the East river from here, and past that, the lower East Side.

“Hey, Jake?” Three knocks at the door and his new assistant twists the handle and opens the right side of the double doors that lead into the office. Matthew. Recently graduated from a private catholic college in the city, will probably only be here until he finds something more permanent. Nice kid. “They’re ready when you are.”

He makes the decision that hiding behind a desk isn’t the best first impression. People already make assumptions about his business and his character just because of the industry he’s in. He tries to prove them wrong when he can.

Sitting in the brown leather arm chair, his suit jacket hung neatly on the hanger in his closet and the sleeves of his grey shirt rolled up to his forearms, he’s nothing if not approachable. Polite, well-informed and passionate about the work he’s doing. He makes a good first impression for the first six interviews.

It’s been three hours and he hasn’t faltered yet, until he looks up at the sound of Matthew introducing him to his next interviewer, and finds someone familiar before him.

You swallow softly, watching him tilt his head as he tries to place where he knows you from. You aren’t having the same problem. You recognise him instantly. The guy in the Rolls who almost ran you over this morning.

His lips quirk slowly up in realization. There it is: he knows.

You’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Jerry’s going to skin you alive when he hears about this.

Amusement drips from his features as your heels tap meekly across the concrete office floor, your hand trembling as you hold it out towards him. He pushes himself up from the armchair and slips his palm into yours. You’re faintly aware of Jake’s assistant closing the door behind him as Jake squeezes your hand and shakes.

Your eyes dart briefly downwards, watching the way his fingers extend past your palm, stretching up onto your wrist. The way your hand disappears under the cover of his. Looking back up, you inhale. He’s taller than his Wikipedia page would suggest — and his hair is shorter. You hadn’t recognised him.

“Jake Seresin.” He introduces himself calmly, his palm still in yours. His eyes are an unreasonable shade of green and he smells like the Tom Ford section of Macy’s. He looks down at you, seeming to enjoy the burning embarrassment on your features.

It’s unclear if he’s trying to embarrass you or smooth things over, but either way, you’re waiting for the ground to swallow you whole. You meekly reply with your own name. He smiles, nods, and drops your hand. “You want a drink?”

Christ, he’s trying to fuck you. You messed up and he’s trying to get you drunk so that he can fuck you. You silently scramble for an answer that won’t tank this opportunity harder than you already have.

“Can’t. Sorry,” You answer him quickly, your voice finally loud enough for him to get an idea of what you sound like. He continues away from you without looking back, his broad shoulders filling out that slate coloured shirt perfectly. “I’m nineteen.”

His reaction to this question is important. If he doesn’t mind, then he’s a dirtbag. If he does, he might still spoil this interview on account of your behavior anyway.

Jake turns, and gives you a brief look over his shoulder.

“Sprite? — Sparkling water? Regular water?”

You should honestly probably just leave. Assuming that he was trying to get you drunk at 11am. Flipping him off before that. It’s not like you’re even particularly prepared for this interview. You were googling him on the way here.

“Still. Please.” You breathe out, taking a step back and a seat on the couch.

“I didn’t say you could sit.” Jake deadpans as he turns towards you with two bottles of water in his hand. Your eyes blow wide open and you launch yourself back onto your feet swiftly.

Slowly, his face twists into a devious grin. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Dimples at the sides of his cheeks, a neat dusting of blonde stubble covering his jaw, his eyes creasing at the edges. “I’m fucking with you. Joking. Sorry, forgot that I had little ears around — I’m joking with you.”

Poking fun at your ‘age’, seeming to forgive your previous indiscretions and setting the water on the coffee table in front of you with an annoyingly cool attitude. He’s running rings around you already.

“Funny.” You tell him quietly, trying to smile. Jake just chuckles as he settles down into the armchair and twists the top off of the glass bottle, bringing it to his mouth.

He takes a gulp and swallows, then brings the bottle down to rest against his thigh. “Little young for a reporter, anyway, aren’t you?”

“I’m not a writer. My boss couldn’t make it, and it was going to be a valuable experience, so, uh… he offered it to us. I’m one of his interns.” Jake crosses one knee over the other and watches as you reach down to pull your notebook from your purse. Black mini skirt, white blouse, cheap heels. He believes it. You look like somebody’s intern.

“Who’s your boss?” He rests his forearms on either side of the chair, his gaze never once wavering from you. He’s not a man that is easily distracted.

You set the notebook on your lap and fiddle with the pen.

“Jerry Jones, with the Observer.”

Jake presses his tongue into his cheek. Being snubbed by Jerry Jones, that’s fucking rich. Jake knows what it means when someone is too busy for a press day — they didn’t want to come.

His reaction tells you quickly that he isn’t a fan of your boss. That’s probably a good thing, since you’re not a fan of that pig either, but it’s not a good thing in terms of the interview.

“You like it there?” He asks. You wish he would look away from you for just a second. Those green eyes feel like they’ve got the power to mesmerize you and really, you can’t afford any more embarrassment.

No. You hate it. Jerry’s a pervert and you aren’t interested in working for him at all. You’re just here because your professor pulled some strings. You hate your job, and everyone you work with.

Jake’s lips quirk once again. He flashes you a quick smile. “You’re young. There’s always time to move on.”

Fuck. If this gets back to Jerry, any of it, you’re in big trouble. Apparently reading you is just another skill to add to Jake’s already impressive resume. He leans forwards and sets the bottle of water down on the coffee table, then relaxes back into his seat with parted knees.

“Sorry. I’ll stop. What did you need to ask me, honey?”

There’s a brief pause where your eyes linger on his face before you exhale. Jake knows that look. He is more than used to receiving it. But, coming from you, he can’t pretend not to enjoy it.

Looking hasn’t ever been a crime, flirting hasn’t ever been a crime. Nadine knew that was who he was when she met him. Hell, she looks at guys sometimes. Jake looks.

Jake Seresin is a former Naval Aviator turned entrepreneur. That’s the opening line of his Wikipedia. Four and a half years ago, he founded a company called Vulcan.

“We specialize our activity in military contracts service,” Jake’s knees are parted wide and he’s beyond confident in holding your gaze. You scrawl notes down onto the page, hoping that he’ll drop something interesting soon. “Personal protection, convoy security, tactical operations.”

Swallowing, you look up at him and set the pen down on the page.

“Over eighty-five percent of your workforce are former United States Armed forces, and you’re known for working closely with several notable veteran’s charities,” Jake listens to you list off the front-page facts about him, his hand resting calmly against his thigh. “How would you say that your background in the Navy affected your business-plan?”

You’re nervous about being here, that much is clear, but there’s a boldness in the way that you look at him. He likes it, he would hire you on the spot. A little guidance and you could be great. Jake has always liked confident girls.

Between questions, when you’re looking down at your notebook with your lips pursed in concentration, he looks. He looks at the way your legs curve, how those heels make them look. The way your neck disappears under the collar of your white buttoned blouse.

You’re professional enough. Young, sure — but he doesn’t buy for a second that you’re nineteen. The way that you talk, the way that you sit, the way that you look at him. He knows you’ve been with men. More importantly, he knows you’re used to getting what you want.

His answers are eloquent, you can tell he cares. He can tell that you think this entire industry is a farce. But, you’re too polite to admit all that.

You finish up, you shake his hand and pretend like feeling him grip your palm in his doesn’t affect you in the way that it does. And then, you take the train back to your office.

Jake works through the afternoon and heads straight to drinks in Soho from there. These aren’t casual drinks though. No, he starts off with dinner with his investors. Then, they move to a rooftop bar with views over the city.

He’s bored. The longer that this goes on, the more he feels it eating at him. Forty-two has him in a vice-grip, and it feels like he’s being crushed by it. Tapping his fingers against the chilled glass, he turns his attention towards the lights and finds himself zoning out completely. Suddenly the little Wall Street jack-off that he was speaking to is far more quiet, and Jake’s mind is a lot more busy.

He’s bored. He isn’t happy. In the San Diego office, on business trips, here. At home. Something is missing. It’s ridiculous, he has everything and he wants more.

A hand on his arm snaps him out of it. He looks down at the 5’6 broker that has smacked a palm into his bicep and stares. The hand lingers there, the person on the end of it has no idea how much they’re pissing him off.

“So anyway, Jake, then I told ‘em-“

“Will you excuse me for just one second?” Jake pushes his glass forwards and the poor son of a bitch in front of him has a split second to decide if he’s going to catch it or wear it. He chooses correctly and his suit is saved, fingers curling around the glass.

Jake steps around him without any kind of idea what they were even talking about before he had rudely interrupted. In one more hour, Jake will be forty-two. It’s not an age that he has been looking forward to. Nothing about getting older has seemed particularly exciting, ever, but this — this is much worse than ever before.

He exits out onto the terrace, leaving his own event behind him. It’s too cold for most people to want to be out here. There’s snow on the forecast for this week.

Running a hand over his face, Jake thinks of his father. He looks like him. Apparently, he acts like him. Jake was eight years old on his father’s forty-second birthday. He remembers the smiling, the music, the cigars. More importantly, he remembers attending his father’s funeral eight weeks later.

Swallowing thickly, Jake pulls his phone from his pocket. He already knows how this will end. It’s 10pm back home — she’s going to be asleep in bed with her book still open, dropped onto the pillow next to her. He calls anyway, resting his forearms on the glass railing, breathing deeply.

“C’mon, honey, pick up the phone.” He whispers into the air, his breath materializing in front of him. His foot taps impatiently against the stone tiles. If he had ever smoked, he’d probably be itching for a cigarette by now. “Just pick up.”

It rings eight times, and then her voicemail starts to play. Upon hanging up, Jake is met with his lockscreen. 11:03. Fifty-seven minutes to go. His throat feels dry. He closes his eyes for a second and thinks of his family. Asleep, cuddled up together.

He’s suddenly reminded of exactly how many nights they have spent like that, without him. His kids are always excited to see him, but they probably barely notice that he’s gone on nights like this.

His body makes the decision to head for the bar before his mind does. Jake needs another drink, something strong. If he wakes up hungover, maybe he’ll feel thirty again. Being the boss has its perks. Asking for three shots of whiskey and then a scotch on the rocks with a twist would get anyone else here fired. For Jake, it gets him service with a smile.

He rests his hands on the bar and exhales deeply. Pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek, he starts to wonder how cheap tequila used to get him so drunk when now top shelf whiskey doesn’t seem to do the trick.

Jake checks his peripheral, then deems the movement to his left interesting enough to justify turning his head to look. Like Rosie had said, he’s the boss. Who’s going to lecture him for being nosey?

He almost smiles at the sight of Jerry Jones standing right next to him. Too busy to drag his lazy ass out to Brooklyn this morning, too cheap to miss out on an open bar in the city. Then, his attention turns to the girl that Jerry has wedged between him and the bar. Jake recognises those legs instantly.

“I get it, I screwed up.” You whisper. Jake’s close enough to hear the anger trembling through your voice. He watches as Jerry’s short, stubby fingers reach out and curl around your forearms.

“Damn right you fucking did, what are you going to do to fix it?” Your boss sneers. Jake can smell the beer reeking off of him, and the disgusted, pinched look on your face tells him that you do too. Surely this isn’t about your interview earlier. It went well. Jake could have been a lot more dull, if he hadn’t been rooting for you.

Turning his attention briefly back to the bar, Jake remembers his Navy days. Kicking drunk assholes out of Penny’s bar. Knocking the worst of them on their asses just for sport. It’s been a while. Getting into a bar fight wouldn’t be good press, but Jake’s just itching to do it. To do something.

Unfortunately, in his moment of deliberation, Jake misses the opportunity. He’s caught somewhat in the splash zone, which makes his head whip around just in time to catch the aftermath. The empty champagne glass in your hand, Jerry’s soaked shirt and wet face, the fury in your eyes.

“You are done. You know that?” Jerry’s fingers press harshly into your forearm as he leers closer again, growling threats in your direction. Jake stands up, enough is enough, but once again, you’re faster. He watches as you lift your chin, then swiftly your knee to follow, slamming it right into your boss’ groin. Jerry recoils enough to release his grip.

Jake just watches as you spin away from the situation. He doesn’t even notice the smile on his face until he turns his head and stares Jerry in the eye. He makes no effort to hide it.

“Jones, you touch a woman like that again,” Jake adjusts his sleeves under his suit jacket as he straightens up and prepares to believe. His gaze is strikingly cold as he meets your boss’ gaze once again. “I’ll take everything you’ve ever worked for from you, I promise you that.”

This isn’t the first time that they have crossed paths. That’s one of the nicer of their exchanges. Amused enough, Jake heads for the exit with every intention of making the most of the stocked bar in his hotel room and the opportunity to jerk off without needing to lock three separate doors first.

He grabs his coat on the way out, huffing out a deep exhale as he steps out onto the street. He should probably take a cab. He can get someone to pick up the rental first thing tomorrow.

Slowing as the heavy glass door to the bar closes behind him, Jake examines the girl in the short dress standing by the curb, shivering. He shrugs his coat off of his shoulders as he walks forwards, clearing his throat to alert you of his presence.

You must have been in the city for a while with the expert way that you round on him without visible fear. He’s silent for a moment, studying the dark mascara smudged under your eyes. City lights behind you, your lips a deeper colour from how you’ve been gnawing anxiously at them, your skin prickled with goosebumps.

“Jesus Christ, did you fucking follow me out here?”

Jake’s mouth twitches. His brows raise slowly, creases starting to appear on his forehead. It’s been a long time since someone spoke to him like that. Much less an intern.

“I don’t have to be nice to you anymore, I know you saw him fire me.” You point out, hands gripping onto your own biceps in an attempt to keep in some of your body heat. You’re an idiot for forgetting to grab your coat, but there’s not a chance that you’re walking back into that building.

Jake holds his coat in one hand, cold nipping at his hands. He’s cool, confirming your accusations. “I did.”

Whether that’s that he followed you or that he saw you get fired, he doesn’t specify. He lifts his hand and offers his coat. You look between him and the heavy black material, statuesque. Both of you are staring at the coat when the first snowflake falls. White spots disappearing into the dark, wool-cashmere blend.

Jake lifts his gaze. You clench your jaw to keep from shivering. He lifts the coat slightly, reminding you that his offer is still there. Hesitantly, you uncross one arm and reach out with a trembling hand. He’s dead quiet, watching you wrap yourself in his coat, shrugging it close to your body.

“You wanna go for a drink?” Jake breathes out, his breath clouding in front of him, the tip of his nose pink. You stare back at him. He saw you with that champagne glass in your hand upstairs. Realistically, if you fuck him, it’s not like you can get fired twice — and fuck, he’s handsome.

Plus, you kind of don’t want to give his coat back yet.

Ten minutes later, you’re sitting across from the richest man you’ve ever met in a dimly lit cocktail bar in Soho.

“So, you’re not nineteen.” Jake muses, parting his knees excessively wide as he sits back in his chair. You study him.

“Twenty-four.” You answer quietly. His lips quirk up into a smile, and he nods finally. There’s a quick reprieve as a waitress sets your drinks between the two of you. A scotch, and a margarita. “Look, I would have told you the truth, but—“

Jake shakes his head calmly. “No need. I get it.”

You frown slightly, resting your elbow on the table and propping your chin on top of it. Jerry had sworn to you that this guy was an asshole, and so far, you’re just not seeing it.

Until Jake gets you to laugh for the first time. A passing comment about life in the city that’s accurate enough to warrant a small giggle. Then, you watch him reach out and pick up his glass, and your eyes land on the gold wedding ring on his finger.

Here you are letting him buy you drinks when he has a wife waiting for him at home.

Toying with the straw in your glass, you rest your cheek against your hand. “So, Vulcan,” You start with a shrug, letting him know that you’re disinterested in his work. Jake smiles coolly back at you.

“Why leave the Navy and still work with military contracts?” You push the straw around the glass, letting the ice clink to break up some of the silence.

In the years since he started this, Jake has heard that question almost every day. His answer is polished and perfected.

“Getting out of the military isn’t like quitting any other job. For a lot of people, assimilating into another career path just isn’t feasible after the experiences they’ve been through,” Jake’s exceptionally still, beyond okay with the silence. He watches you fiddle with your drink. “And there was nowhere for them to go before Vulcan.”

Nowhere for him to go, he means. He doesn’t say it, he knows it himself, and when you lift your gaze to look at him through your lashes, he knows that you know it too.

“You really believe in what you’re doing. You know, some people think that there’s something concerning about private companies carrying out military duties.”

“Well, you did your research,” He’s taunting you now, you both know that you didn’t. “You know how strenuous of a process it was for my company to build the impeccable reputation that it has now.” Jake takes no time to consider. He’s firm, decisive. He watches you take one more look down at the wedding ring on his finger.

“A lot of people think that you’re just in it for the money.” By that, you mean Jerry Jones. You don’t have to say it, you know it. And by the way Jake looks at you, you know he knows it too. Unspoken words, your eyes drawn in on each other, your heartbeat in your ears. His wife is a lucky woman.

“I didn’t know that I’d even earn any money when I started. I had a one year old at the time, I needed it to work.” He admits.

“You’ve got kids.” You breathe out. Jake can hear the disappointment in your tone. So, the wedding ring wouldn’t have stopped you. Kids is where you draw the line. Anyway, he decides to test you further.

“Three. Two boys and a girl.”

Blinking across at him, you should be running for the hills by now. Instead, you refuse to let your silence ruin this for you. “How old?”

He should probably be ashamed of himself for sitting in Soho with a girl half his age, telling her about his kids — but he isn’t. He just isn’t. “Five, almost three, and uh… My youngest was born in November.”

Your glossed lips press softly together, almost in consideration. He watches as you cross one knee over the other and flick your gaze back up to him.

“So, what are we doing here, Jake?”

He likes the way his name sounds coming from your mouth. Too much. He likes the way your legs look in the dress that you’ve changed into. He loves the way that your eyes remain on him as your tongue slowly dips from your mouth to a portion of the salt from the rim of your glass.

There’s only about a foot of distance between the two of you and it’s beyond evident that sooner or later, there will be much less.

“Can’t friends get a drink together?” He’s playing coy, and truthfully he wants you to be the one to put an end to this because he has three minutes left until his birthday and he wants nothing more than to pin those pretty fucking legs behind your ears.

“We’re going to be friends?” You huff amusedly at the idea. You’ve been wanting to see what’s under that expensive suit all day.

No, Jake doesn’t want to be your friend. He lifts the glass to his mouth and takes a drink.

“I hear you’re staying at the Plaza.” No job to go back to tomorrow. An ex-boyfriend who will inevitably get a phone call if this doesn’t work out. A masters’ degree that you still haven’t finished, two years in. In lieu of spitting in Jerry Jones’ face, there’s a more wild and infinitely more exciting opportunity right in front of you.

There it is. Jake’s been waiting for that confidence to break through.

“Have you stayed before?” He knows that you haven’t. This cat and mouse game is winding down and Jake’s about to make a decision he won’t be able to take back. You give a slow shake of your head, sitting back in your seat. Jake’s eyes flicker down to his watch. He looks back up to you. “You want to?”

Less than an hour into his birthday, Jake lingers just inside the doorway of his hotel room as you walk ahead of him towards the ten feet tall windows facing the park.

“No fucking way.” You breathe out, eyes wide, heels tapping gently across the floors. Jake’s lips quirk upwards into an amused smirk. He takes a second to look you over, eyes trailing your silhouette in front of the skyline.

Then, he turns and pours himself one last drink. For you, he takes a moment to examine the bar.

“What do you want?”

“Whatever you’re having.” You call back as you turn, craning your neck to try to see up the stairs. There’s so much to look at, but it’s clear that you’re here to fuck him, not tour his hotel room.

Jake chuckles to himself, already figuring that you probably won’t like it, but pouring you a measure anyway.

When he turns, he finds you resting you palms against the window frame, one ankle crossed over the other, smiling softly at him. The expectation is that he’ll finally touch you, but no. Jake sits down in the armchair and sets your drink on the coffee table in front of him.

“Go, explore. I know you want to.” He permits, settling down comfortably as he takes a sip of the amber coloured liquid. Your lips quirk up, almost smiling at him. That’s a smile that he could get used to seeing.

He watches as you walk back through the way that you came. Closet and a washroom by the door, an impressive study just past that. Upstairs, there’s an even more impressive bedroom. A huge bathroom with a bathtub bigger than you’ve ever seen that leads out onto a private terrace.

You’re in a Penthouse. It starts to finally sink in that you’re here with one of the most powerful men in the city right now, and you’re still wearing his coat.

Shrugging off the expensive wool blend, you hang it in the bedroom closet and then turn to look at yourself in the floor length mirror.

The dress is nice. Your sister had helped pick it out. It’s classy enough for a work event but it fits your body in a way that has always earned you special attention.

Slowly, you touch at the bottom hem of the dress with your fingertips, guiding it up just slightly to expose the tops of your stockings. It’s beyond presumptuous, but you see the way that he looks at you.

Reaching back to catch hold of the zipper of the dress, you think of how humiliating this could be. It doesn’t stop you, though.

…

Tags: @alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @fuckyeahhangman @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @someinsanefangirl @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter @shawnsblue @itsmytimetoodream

#jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin #Glen powell #jake Seresin fic #jake Seresin smut #jake seresin #top gun smut #sugar daddy jake #power and control

386 notes · View notes

our-happygirl500-fan · 1 year

Text

After the release of the Rise book ROTTMNT: Ninja Power a sequel was release a little bit later called ROTTMNT: Secrets of the City which was basically another handful of Rise episodes in book form

The book had four episodes each told from the perspective of different characters: ‘Mascot Melee’ was told from Raph’s point of view, ‘Down with Sickness’ was told from Mikey’s, ‘Origami Tsunami’ was told from Leo’s & the episode ‘War and Pizza’ was told from April’s.

Similarly to the Rise book Ninja Power even though each episode was told from a different character’s perspective the narration was basically an overview of what happened in each episode though similarly to the Rise book Ninja Power there are still a couple of fun little extra character moments & bits or pieces of info sprinkled in with the different narrators.

When Mikey is narrating the episode ‘Down with the Sickness’ we do actually get to see a kind of small extra scene where we kind of get to see Raph, Donnie & Mikey’s reaction to Leo getting infected while in the episode we kind of only got to see them watch Leo go down before they put him in his containment area.

Donnie: Ah, Leo’s infected

We also kind of get a confirmation that the Turtles do go through the same seven stages that Splinter does when sick (we also kind of learn what the foam that the Turtles get sprayed with is).

Narrator: Stage 1 Fever

Leo: It is really hot, is there a fire?

Narrator: Stage 2 Wild Rat Man

Donnie: Make him say yessssssss!

However it seems as though even though the Turtles also go through the seven stages each stage seems to manifest slightly differently for each person as Donnie’s Wild Rat Man stage looks different from Splinter’s Wild Rat Man Stage.

Apparently there was an argument over what to name the fake little cardboard shop in the episode Origami Tsunami but Leo got to decide the name due to the fact that he came up with the idea in the first place.

The shipyard that the Turtles tracked the Foot Clan to in the episode Origami Tsunami is apparently the Brooklyn Navy Yard, which is apparently a shipyard & industrial complex located in northwest Brooklyn.

Apparently when the giant paper warrior grabbed Leo in the episode Origami Tsunami, Leo was squeezed so tight that he thought he would burst.

April: Sing with me guys I am finishing this party ‘Happy Birthday!’ Finish the song!

When Raph & Leo try to guess the name of the Timmy (whose Birthday it was in the episode War and Pizza) they settle on just calling Timmy “squirt” & “kid” meaning that when they don’t know the name of a child Leo is the type of person to just call them ‘kid’ while Raph is the type of person that calls children ‘squirt’.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #april o'neil #leonardo hamato #donatello hamato #michelangelo hamato #rottmnt #tmnt

288 notes · View notes

lavenderbuckyy · 1 year

Text

stevie headcanons for his birthday! ❤️

wakes up at 5 am EVERY DAY to go for a run

sometimes he has so much energy in his body he HAS to do something physical, like go running or use an exercise machine. bucky calls it the zoomies 😭

with this excess energy, he fidgets a lot. rubbing his hands together, tapping his foot/jigging his leg, cracking his knuckles/neck

he knows sign language!

he's a total introvert and needs time to recharge. he doesn't like big events or parties and prefers low-key time with friends

irish accents always remind him of his ma. sometimes when he hears one in public, he feels like he's back in his apartment in brooklyn with her

(he's fond of F.R.I.D.A.Y. for this reason)

he's a great listener. the avengers come to him when they have a problem because they know he truly cares and he'll pay full attention

on days off he likes exploring different museum exhibits in brooklyn

burns in the sun sooo easily, he's constantly reapplying suncream. when the avengers have beach days, he always has to sheepishly walk up to someone and ask them to do his back

his favourite colour is blue!

although he's more of a cat person, steve is fond of golden retrievers. no real reason, he just thinks they're neat

awkward around kids, but he tries his best

this man is so well hydrated. he brings his reusable water bottle everywhere and is constantly sipping on it

orders sharing platters just for himself at restaurants bc of his metabolism

he has a lot of respect for natasha; she's one of the first people he truly came to trust in the 21st century. they spar together a lot!

he loves the smell of apples cooking 🍏

his movie night snack of choice is salted popcorn

likes strategy games like chess, battleships, etc. he's an absolute MENACE at monopoly and nobody wants to play with him

he is truly haunted by star spangled man with a plan and rappin' with cap

his hair gets lighter and more golden in the sun. natural highlights 🌤️ plus he gets little freckles across his shoulders and nose!

he is so sappy on the inside fr ❤️

prefers pancakes > waffles (he and bucky fight over this)

he attends a lot of protests (e.g. women's rights march 2017), both because he cares and because he knows it'll bring more media attention to the issue if he attends

he is so touched by the fan letters he gets from little kids. he keeps them all, but he sticks up his absolute favourite artwork on the fridge

pretends to not understand modern technology just to aggravate tony

uses perfect punctuation and caps in his texts — except he leaves out full stops at the end of sentences because he thinks it "makes him sound annoyed" 😭

hates doing dishes. usually he just rinses off his plate/mug and leaves it in the sink for later

bottles up his feelings. usually he exercises as a way to work out his frustration, but he won't talk to someone until he's at breaking point or they make him

absolutely awful at first-person shooter games

he hates lemon desserts and sour candy. bur he loves lemonade... hmm 🤨

#super random headcanons ik just wanted to get something out #everything's late bc i've been travelling and got stuck at the airport 😔#lav's headcanons #steve rogers #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers headcanons #captain america

166 notes · View notes

enjoythesilentworld · 4 months

Text

Wille's Month - Birthday

the big day! 28th! happy bday wille! @youngroyals-events

Wille gets a real kid’s birthday.

read below the cut or on ao3. (T, 1.9k)

It isn’t until his 20th birthday that Wille really gets to acknowledge it’s his birthday and not hate the thought of it.

His 18th birthday was a little overshadowed by the chaos of, you know, stepping down from the line of succession and sending the country into a media frenzy. Thank goodness Simon had been by his side, though; to ward off the unwanted attention from the tabloids, the irate criticism from the monarchists, and the ever-enclosing walls of Wille’s anxiety which was so tightly bound to the whole thing. Just like the year before, he’d woken Wille up with a song and a dry sandwich, except that year Wille didn’t have a breakdown, and they fell asleep happily wrapped in each other's arms.

The next year wasn’t bad by any means. In fact, it was really great. He, Simon, Felice and Sara went on a big trip to Amsterdam to celebrate their graduation. Wille didn’t mind that all the attention wasn’t on him. In fact, after the previous two years, he was more than happy to pretend it wasn’t his birthday. That it wasn’t actually meant to be the second official Wilhelmdagen; wasn’t another year his brother had missed. As was becoming tradition, Simon snuck downstairs to the kitchen of the hostel at which they’d been staying to put together a makeshift sandwich, and then whispered him a happy birthday song in the privacy of their tiny bunk. They’d all spent the day exploring the city and getting high in the park, giggling and joking about the terrifying yet glorious affair that was post-graduation.

So, when the first year of university is coming to a close and Simon asks him what he wants to do for his 20th birthday, he shrugs.

“We don’t need to do anything,” he says, looking up from his book where he’d been lounging and reading in a spot of sun. It’s a warm, breezy day in late April, and the sounds of the city that drift in the window of their shared apartment is a nice background noise.

Though it had been a scary decision to make, both he and Simon thought it might be nice to study abroad for a while, to escape the scrutinizing eyes of Sweden after all the drama. And so, after many teary goodbyes, they’d swept off to New York. Wille enjoyed the anonymity and Simon enjoyed the music scene. They wouldn’t stay in the States forever, but it felt real and adult to make this big move and go through so many huge life events together. That being said, after that first year at Hillerska, Wille is sure he and Simon could weather any storm, as long as they had each other.

“Are you sure?” Simon runs a hand through Wille’s hair, cut short ahead of the hot summer. He folds his book and grabs Simon’s hips, guiding him to sit in his lap. “Not even a small party? We could invite some friends over for a game night like normal, just this time we all wear silly party hats.”

Wille smiles at the care Simon was showing, both of them still aware of the awful memories of his 17th, which still sting to think about. He shakes his head and shrugs again.

“Whatever.” He presses an innocent kiss to Simon’s neck, then lingers there, inhaling his scent. “I just want my sandwich and my song. And you in my bed.”

Giggles vibrate through Simon’s throat. “You have me in our bed every day.”

“It’s never enough!” he exclaims, standing them up and throwing a squealing Simon over his shoulder to carry off to bed.

It isn’t until a few days later that Simon returns to the topic, bounding into their bedroom and looking at Wille with wide, excited eyes. It’s the kind of look he has before Wille finds himself dressed in a onesie and cowboy hat, dancing on a small stage at some random club in Brooklyn at 4am. The things Simon is able to convince him to do – and sober, no less – are boundless. He sits up a little straighter in anticipation of whatever nonsense idea Simon has concocted this time.

“I have the best idea,” Simon grins maniacally, bouncing from foot to foot. Wille raises an eyebrow. “For your birthday.”

“Does it have to do with the extra bed time I requested?” he asks, smirking.

“No,” Simon drawls. “Don’t worry about it. Just clear that whole day. I will take care of everything.”

He moves forward again and grabs Wille’s face, squishing his cheeks, then says, very seriously, “It’s going to be perfect.”

“Okay,” Wille agrees, the sound muffled by his smushed face.

It seems his original prediction hadn’t been entirely off base. On the morning of his birthday, Simon wakes him with a song, a sandwich, and a kiss, then disappears. A few minutes later he returns with a big paper bag and empties the contents onto their bed. The sheer number of bright colors hurts Wille’s eyes this early in the morning.

“Is this my present?” he asks hesitantly, eyeing the goods. He spots a bright pink graphic t-shirt, a few party hats, a tiara, and some deflated balloons.

“Yes!” Simon exclaims. “Well, kind of. Today, my love, you are having the birthday you never got because you were too busy being a stuffy prince. No offense.”

“Okay.” Wille tilts his head in confusion, though he can’t help but smile softly at Simon’s excitement. “What does that mean?”

“First, put this on.” He holds up the pink graphic tee, which Wille gapes at, now that he can see the whole front. There’s some kind of mouse mascot dressed in a shirt and hat, and the text reads ‘Birthday Boy! 10! Wille!’ in big, block letters.

“I’m not turning 10,” Wille grumbles, slowly taking the shirt. He thinks Simon might have lost it.

��Look,” Simon grins, taking off his sweatshirt. “I even have a matching one!”

Wille bursts into laughter. Simon has definitely lost it.

The shirt does in fact match Wille’s, with the same oversaturated colors and slightly off-putting mouse character, except the text instead says ‘Daddy of the Birthday Boy!’. Not only that, but the shirt is one size too small, tight across Simon’s chest and the bottom only reaching an inch above his belly button. Despite how ridiculous it is, Wille is not too opposed to the sight of Simon in a crop top.

Once he’s got his laughter under control, Wille pulls on his own shirt. It’s a crop top on him as well. Simon sheepishly tells him that they were cheap and he’d shrunk them a bit in the dryer on accident. Wille could not care less. He finds the whole thing incredibly endearing, and they lose a bit of time when Wille pulls Simon back into the bed with him.

“Okay!” Simon shouts, finally pulling away. “We have things to accomplish today. I have big plans for you, Mr. Birthday Boy.”

“Do you now?” Wille asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

Simon rolls his eyes and presses a finger into Wille’s chest, pushing him away.

“I am going to show you the wonders of the world today, baby. In the form of sticky floors and questionable pizza. The American Dream!”

After donning their full outfits for the day – Simon with a party hat and Wille with his princess tiara – they head out for the day.

Their first stop is laser tag. The people at the front desk give them very odd looks, because they are grown men joining up with a bunch of preteens, but Wille can’t bring himself to care. Simon looks so excited, and he’s just so touched that his dear boyfriend went to all this effort. Plus, he loves laser tag.

They end up on opposite teams. Simon is ruthless, appearing around every corner to take Wille down no matter how far he runs or how well he hides. They shriek and yell at each other, louder than any of the kids, and sprint across the obstacles courses, trying to get the jump on the other. Three games later, Wille is winded and his face hurts from smiling so hard. After eating some, indeed, very questionable pizza, they stop in the bathroom to clean up. Standing next to each other in the mirror, they make googly eyes and silly faces. Turning to face one another, Simon reaches up to straighten his tiara and Wille fixes the string on his party hat.

Heart bursting with love, Wille whispers, “Thank you for this.”

Simon smiles and Wille swears the colors around them grow brighter. “Don’t thank me yet! We’re not done.”

The next stop is a trampoline park, which Wille has never even heard of before. A whole warehouse, a ridiculous size that could only be an American concept, filled with trampolines, foam pits, and screaming children. It’s perfect.

They swap out their shoes for grippy socks and chase each other out onto the floor. They play each other in basketball on a trampoline court, Wille jumping over Simon’s head to dunk the ball, then tackling each other to the ground to fight for it. Next, they get roped into a game of dodgeball with a group of nine-year-olds. Everyone gangs up on Wille and he ends up curled up in a corner, being pelted by an army of children and his boyfriend, who looks way too pleased by the situation. Finally, they have a jumping competition into the foam pit. Simon wins with his double backflip – which, who even knew he could do a backflip, much less two – but Wille is still quite proud of his toe-touch jump. Afterwards, they share a slushie in the parking lot, sitting on a curb and smiling at each other like idiots.

Late that afternoon, feeling sticky and sweaty but so fulfilled, they stumble back home to shower off. Wille thanks Simon thoroughly but is again told they’re not quite finished. They can’t change back into their matching shirts for the last activity of the night, too covered in mysterious liquids from their events of the day, so they opt for more adult-clothing. Wille keeps the tiara, though.

Simon leads them to a bowling alley, which they’ve been to a few times already, but this time Simon has rented out the party room and invited the few friends they’d made here in the city.

The employees at the bowling alley have really gone all out with the decorations. Purple and pink streamers span the entire ceiling, interspersed with dozens of balloons. A big sign on the wall says ‘Happy Birthday Willie!’ and he can’t even find it in him to be angry at the misspelling.

They bowl for hours, talking and laughing and overall causing a major ruckus. His friends have all gotten him stupid gag gifts, which is perfect and so much better than any stuffy tie or fancy cufflinks like he was used to as a prince. Wille keeps catching Simon staring at him with a big, happy grin. He looks radiant, so much better than that awful day a few years ago.

“I’m so glad you’ve had fun today,” he says later, arms wrapped around Wille, looking up at him with tired eyes.

“Today was perfect, Simon.” He presses a kiss to Simon’s forehead. “Thank you so much. Best 10th birthday ever.”

Simon giggles. “You deserve it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. Happy Birthday, Wille.”

#it's silly #wille gets the birthday he deserves #doing silly teenager things #one may even say pre-teen things #these boys have lived a hundred post-canon lives over the past month #add this one to the pile #yr fic #willemonth2024 #wilmon #young royals #simon eriksson #wille eriksson #happy birthday wille #yr crack

29 notes · View notes

klaineccfanficlibrary · 1 month

Note

Wondering if you guys have any fics where Klaine has a teenager who’s maybe being bullied or are in a bad relationship and needs their help? Maybe it’s just the kid crying and K and B talk to them.

Here is on Previous ask which has a selection of Klaine fics with teenage children. Also, some others found previously. ~Jen

These Twists and Turns of Fate by victoryscreech357

Dealing with teenagers is never easy, but Kurt and Blaine have children that redefine the word ‘interesting’. From bullying to breakdowns, lies to laughter, and the arduous journey of a Brooklyn family, the Anderson-Hummels persist. (This story has a default rating of T for swearing and discussions of sensitive topics. Later chapters will be rated either T or M, depending on the subject matter.)

~~~~~

All We Ever Wanted [PDF] [Epub] By pickingviolets

They adopt a teenage girl as well as other children

this is part two of

A Fresh Start by pickingviolets

Blaine, a nurse, fresh from a bad marriage, is looking to start a new life for him and his daughter. Kurt, a doctor, is dealing with his own struggles as a single dad. Meeting in the emergency room late one night can provide more healing than either thought possible.

Download the [PDF] [Epub]

~~~~~ A Secret Affair by @gleefulpoppet

Arriving home from work, Kurt is hesitant about what he might find after getting some surly texts from his sixteen-year-old daughter about their upcoming move. He takes a deep breath, reaching for the knob, wishing Blaine was here to help him handle whatever he finds on the other side.

Written for Klaine Advent 2022. Now complete with over 90+ artwork/graphics.

MASSIVE amounts of fluff after Chapter 2! WARNING! This short story addresses a child who previously struggled with self-harm. There is NO graphic content. She is in recovery. Many parents are struggling with this, and once this story downloaded into my brain, I had to write it. Please exercise caution if this may be disturbing for you.

~~~~~

Sleepovers, Secrets, and Sex Talks by insightfulinsomniac

When Blaine goes to his son’s room to wake him and his best friend up for breakfast, he panics when Dalton’s best friend, Sawyer, isn’t on his air mattress, the place where he slept whenever he came over for the past four years.

And then Blaine looks at Dalton’s bed.

Kind of a future-fic version of Burt finding Blaine in Kurt’s bed after the infamous “Blame it on the Alcohol” party.

~~~~

Also Parts 5 -9, 11 of Go Your Own Way by zavocado, they foster/adopt teenage boys

A Christmas offer (PART 5)

Evan has never enjoyed the winter holidays, but this year he has Kurt and Blaine to share the day with, and what he hopes is the start of his life with them. December 2021.

~~~~~

Tracy through Time (Happy Birthday, Tracy!) byInsightfulInsomniac

From her birth to her wedding, here’s a series of moments in Tracy Anderson-Hummel’s life that are filled with love, joy, and laughter. Of course, her dads are always part of the journey.

Written for Tracy’s (loosely) canonical birthday in summer of 2020, but her specific birthday (June 21st) in my dads!klaine universe. Happy birthday, Tracy!

#klaine fanfiction #fic finder #daddies!klaine #teenage child

14 notes · View notes

greenapronkitchen-blog · 11 months

Text

Creating Unforgettable Kids Birthday Celebrations in Brooklyn

Throwing a kid's birthday bash in Brooklyn is a whirlwind of excitement. Yet, navigating the ins and outs of planning can be a challenge. From selecting the perfect venue to managing the food and ensuring every child has a blast, organizing a birthday party can overwhelm even the most prepared parents.

Ready to alleviate the stress of your child's Brooklyn birthday party? Here's why you might want to consider:

Delegate the planning process. Opt for a venue that handles everything from preparation, cooking, to activity planning, leaving you with less stress. Find a suitable spot for your kids' birthday party, allowing professionals to take over, so you can relish the moments with your little one.

Tailor the celebration to your preferences while letting experts manage decorations and logistics.

Select a kid-friendly location that also appeals to the adults. It's all about finding a venue where both kids and grown-ups can revel in the celebration.

Strategize the ideal timing for your event. Whether an afternoon delight or an evening extravaganza, choose a schedule that suits your guests and your convenience.

Ensure your birthday child feels extra special. A mark of an excellent birthday party location is one that goes the extra mile to make the birthday boy or girl feel truly cherished.

Consider a cooking-themed birthday party. Looking to make the day extra memorable? Celebrate with a cooking party! Hosting a kids' birthday party in Brooklyn promises a unique and engaging experience for your favorite aspiring chef.

In conclusion: Elevate your child's birthday festivities by hosting a cooking-themed celebration at Green Apron Kitchen in Brooklyn. We take the stress off your shoulders, ensuring you and your little ones can unwind and savor the day. Each birthday event is personalized to create an unforgettable experience for your young chef.

Enjoy exclusive use of our kitchen space and a separate lounge for adults. After whipping up tasty treats, budding chefs can engage in games, relish their culinary creations, and blow out the candles on their delectable masterpieces. Memorable, scrumptious birthday fun awaits at Green Apron Kitchen.

#Birthday party #Birthday party Brooklyn #Birthday party in NYC #Kids birthday party Brooklyn #Kids cooking birthday party #Kids Cooking Classes #Party venue Brooklyn

0 notes

bee-in-motion · 16 days

Text

#Sports Lessons for Kids NYC #Bike riding lessons near me #Group bike lessons for adults nyc #Group bike riding for children nyc #Bike riding for adults in NYC #Bike rides for children and adults brooklyn #Fitness Lessons for Kids in NYC #Birthday Party Packages NYC #Plan kids birthday parties in NYC

0 notes

idiopath-fic-smile · 2 months

Note

*Amy from brooklyn nine-nine hummas meme* Nothing Much To Do and Lovely Little Losers... thoughts?

haha basically its the 10 year anniversery of NMTD and I just reread your fic of it and idk I wanted to know if you had any thoughts on it? There's just something so special ??? about 2014 fictional baby gays on youtube :') and i cannot even begin to tell you how happy it made me when I found your NMTD fic a couple years ago <3

Oh hey, blast from the past! That whole series really compelled me. I had no idea it was ten years ago! I definitely mainlined the entire thing while sick, but turns out that was...also eight years ago, oh my god I am so old my bones are dust and I speak the ancient language of the trees.

I feel like it in some ways spiritually sprang from the same well as the Lizzie Bennet diaries (classics but make it vlogs!) but (and your mileage may of course vary) I appreciate a lot that the characters never got in-universe famous or successful for their videos and never got any opportunities from it; they were very much just teens screwing around on camera, in a way that, at its best, felt enjoyably natural.

Much Ado is probably my favorite Shakespeare comedy (narrowly beating out Twelfth Night, which gets points for queerness but loses points because it's VERY messy and less kind and not as overtly feminist as Much Ado; gotta love a play where the main conflicts resolve bc a character chooses to BELIEVE WOMEN) so I may be a little biassed, but I also think the source material creates a lot of opportunities for fun silliness, and the layers of intrigue worked well as vlogs. I love how the love letters were adapted into earnest ukulele songs. The high-stakes drama of Much Ado (Hero will be ruined by Claudio's accusations!) really worked for me as teen drama (Hero's birthday party will be ruined by Claudio's accusations!)

Lovely Little Losers I have somewhat fewer thoughts on, since I don't think I've even read or seen Love's Labor's Lost. I remember the sequel being more ambitious but also messier, which I think is fair for a sequel. I remember being relieved at the ending.

I never really "see myself" in a fictional character but I could identify a little with Balthazar, this shy, music-loving kid who was at his most comfortable cracking jokes with someone he's close to and who really has to force himself to engage in conflict. The archetype of "guy who plays the instruments for his friends' secret love confessions" was not factually resonant to my high school experiences but damn if it didn't produce its own sort of resonance in my head.

idk, I hope the Candle Wasters are doing well!

#assorted memery

11 notes · View notes

stephenlangdaily · 11 months

Text

@slang_711: BURT YOUNG and I did LAST EXIT TO BROOKLYN together. Burt was really such a splendid man. He was extremely kind and supportive from day 1 on the picture. First meeting he said to me, “You gotta tough role. But I hear good things about you, kid. You need anything?’ I said, “Like what?” Burt kinda shrugged and with a wry grin says, “Scotch?” Makes me smile to remember.

Another time we were having a birthday party for Hubert ‘Cubby’ Shelby on a yacht on the Hudson River. Big sheet cake with candles. We sing. And no knife to cut the cake. No problem. Burt whips out the most lethal gravity knife I’d ever seen and he slices the cake like that’s what the shiv was meant for. Then he licks the icing off the blade.

Scotch and cake. The pleasure, the privilege, was mine.

#stephen lang #last exit to brooklyn #burt young #instagram #*

35 notes · View notes

paisholotus · 1 year

Text

Ch.2

Nalae's pov

My birthday is today. I am finally 17 years old. We are planning on throwing a party. My parents aren't going to stay because they have to work. I'm not upset because I understand how difficult their jobs are. My mom is a lawyer, and my dad is a doctor. They can't be home all the time, but they try to make time to spend with us.

I wasn't planning on throwing a big party, but a lot of my school friends were coming. And my cousins were coming to visit, all the way from Brooklyn. School was about to be out for the summer, so they were going to be staying with us.

I was getting ready in my room. I had just finished my hair and was checking myself; I thought I looked pretty damn good. This boy named Michael that goes to my school asked me on a date, and I said yes. He was also going to be at my party tonight.

Nalae's outfit

I left my room and went downstairs. I went into the living room and double-checked everything. There's going to be food, drinks, and music for everyone. Tisha also brought some alcohol; she sometimes lets me turn up and gives me alcohol as long as I drink responsibly.

I get up, hearing a knock on the door. I squealed as I opened the door to see my cousins April and Aaliya. I hugged them both tightly and told them how much I missed them.

April's & Aaliya's outfits

"How y'all been?" I asked them. I let them in and took their gifts, which I placed on the kitchen counter. "We've been good. Happy school, finna be out! My classes be kicking my ass." Aaliya said.

"Same, where your bags?" I asked them. Aaliya walked back to the door. I shook my head. "Nah, Ant can get them for y'all." I said. I walked towards the steps to yell for him. "ANT! COME GET THEIR BAGS." I returned to the kitchen and poured them a drink. Our options were Henny, Tequila, Ciroq, and Blue MD, because apparently my sister and brother don't like the other ones. And we also had a whole bunch of hounds.

"Damn, you getting fucked up, ain't you?" April said, laughing. I chuckled, dapping them up and nodding. Tisha walked into the kitchen along with Ant, who had just come back from upstairs. They hugged April and Aaliya and asked them how they were.

I scrunched up my face, confused as to where Mar was. "Where's Mar?" Ant rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. "Where do you think his ass at?" Tisha grumbled at me. She was walking around the counter, fixing herself a drink. I rolled my eyes and huffed.

He was hanging with them, niggas, again. We don't know how he met them, but he needs to leave them alone. Me and Mar are going to have to talk, hanging around a bunch of disrespectful little boys; they ain't nothing but trouble. Tisha side-eyed me, still looking pissed. And I looked away, feeling guilty.

Tisha and Ant were angry when I told them I went to get Mar at the party. They mostly yelled at Mar, but they were disappointed in me because I could have put myself in 'harms way'. But I know how to take care of myself, but saying that would probably have made the argument worse.

April and Aaliya must have noticed the tension because they looked for someone to say something. "Uh, oh, what's going on with him?" April asked.

Ant told her about how Mar had been hanging around boys who were selling drugs and other things. I kind of tuned him out.

I'm not sure what's going on with Mar, but he's been missing classes, and his grades are dropping. This isn't like him, who is literally the smartest kid I know; he makes straight A's in all his classes. We are both the youngest, so we tell each other everything—at least we used to. But lately, he's been avoiding me, and it's making me feel like I've done something. It's my birthday, and he's not even here.

I lowered my gaze to the counter, swirling the ice in my drink. "You can't be sad! It's your birthday, boo. Let's turn the fuck up and get drunk!" Aaliya said, raising her cup, and I smiled, raising mine. "YES, IT'S MY BIRTHDAY, BITCHES."

-Time Skip-

Going in two hours, and this party was FAT! People were planning party games, smoking, drinking, and having a good time. It was nothing wild, just people chilling.

I bobbed my head while sitting next to Aaliya and my friend Miranda.

"Because I will be a freak until the day

Until the dawn

And we can (pump, pump).

All through the night 'til the early morning'

Come on, and I will take you around the 'hood.

On a gangsta lean

'Cause we can (pump, pump).

Any time of day, it's all good for me."

The song blasted through the speakers. This was my favorite song. Ain't nothing like the 90s, man. I stubbed out the remaining blunt and picked up my cup, motioning for my cousin to follow me to my room so I could get some more green. Don't anybody know I have it except for Mar? I can't believe he hasn't even shown up, which hurts my feelings because it's honestly starting to feel personal. But I ain't letting it stress me; we'll talk later.

I walked past Tisha; she looked good. Tisha and Ant are tall. Leaving me and Mar the shorties of the group. Tisha was 5'9, pretty much a stallion, and I was 5'4, pretty much a midget. But I ain't worried about it because I'm a pretty bitch with a fat ass. And this personality is one of a kind.

Tisha's outfit

Tisha grabbed my arm, asking me where we were going. "Imma go grab something from upstairs real quick." She nodded, talking to this tall, dark-skinned boy. 'Ok, Tisha, get yo mack on girl.'

Me and Aaliya walked into my room; she was sitting at my desk, checking herself out. I rapped to Eve. Can't anybody say I don't have good taste in music because I always play bangers.

"If I had to give you more, it's only been a year.

Now I've got my foot through the door, and I ain't going nowhere.

It took a while to get me here, and I'm going to take my time.

Don't fight that good shit in your ear; now let me blow your mind."

I was rolling up the blunts and putting them into the bag when I heard a knock on the door. I thought it was just April or Tisha, so I said, Come in.

And it just happens to be light skin. He slowly walks into my room, looking at Aaliya and me but mainly staring at me. I squinted my eyes at him, crossing my arms. "What the fuck are you doing here? And how do you know where I live?" I said, looking him up and down.

Aaliya passes the lit blunt to me, and I take a big puff out of it. I glared at the light-skinned boy smirking at me. Who told his ass he could come up the steps? As if he lived here—disrespectful! He takes some steps forward, giving a boyish grin. "Can I sit down?" He asked.

I continued to glare at him. I looked at Aaliya to see if she felt comfortable with him staying. She shrugged, taking the blunt from me again. I slowly nodded, sitting at my desk beside Aaliya. He sat down on my bed, continuing to stare at me with that same dopey smile on his face. "How long have you been up here?" He asked.

I scrunched up my brow, looking at him questionably. Why did he need to know? He doesn't live here; he's a little too nosey for my liking. "I don't think that's your business." I remarked back. He chuckled, going back to smirking at me. His eyes were raking up and down my body.

"What's your name, baby?" He asked. Leaning back on his elbows, he took a squig out of his cup. His eyes hovered over the rim, staring back at mine.

"Nalae. Why you want to know?" I asked, inhaling the smoke and blowing it out of my nose. My eyes started to feel heavy. I was feeling really good at the moment.

I finally got a good look at him. He was muscularly built, but not over the top. His skin was a very light caramel color. The definition of a high-yella nigga He had a little stubble, but not too much; he still had a baby face. To say he was fine was an understatement. I usually don't try to find light-skinned niggas attractive because the ones I've had a crush on made it very clear they don't like dark-skinned girls. So I became only interested in brown and dark-skinned boys.

"Your brother wouldn't tell me your name for sh*t. I'm Marcus, but you can call me Lucious." He said that, giving me a big smile. He motioned for me to sit down beside him, and I lifted my brow at him. Looking at him like hell, Naw Then suddenly Aaliya got up and smirked at me, grabbing her drink and one of the blunts. "Ight, imma go downstairs. See you later, boo." She said, walking towards the door. I glared at her, watching her slowly close the door before she stuck her tongue out at me.

He patted the bed, motioning for me to sit beside him again. I bit the side of my cheek, slowly standing up and moving towards him. I sat down beside him, blowing out rings of smoke. I turned to see him staring dead into my eyes. It's like I couldn't look away. This nigga had the prettiest eyes I've ever seen. He was truly sex on legs.

I put the blunt in my mouth, going to take another puff, when he reached over, taking the blunt from my hand and taking a puff from it. "How old are you?" I asked him. He laid on his back, looking at the ceiling, blowing out the smoke. "19. How about you?" I smiled, getting up from the bed and walking towards the desk, grabbing the blunts. I sat back down and laid down, looking at him. "17. But I'm pretty sure you knew that already, considering today is my birthday." I said it smartly.

45 minutes later...

"So rich girl, how you liking Philly?" He asked, playing with my hand. I rolled my eyes and looked at him. "I'm not rich. Just middle class." I said, staring at him blankly. He sucked his teeth, sitting up, leaning on his side, looking down on me.

"You live in this fancy ass house. In this nice ass neighborhood, filled with white folk." He said, smirking down at me. I smiled at him and sat up, copying his position. "I recognize I have it better than anyone else who's less fortunate. But just because I live comfortably doesn't mean I haven't struggled. Everybody has a story. And just because I have nice things don't mean I treat people like they are below me." I said, softly. Leaning over, my nose touching his, I grabbed the blunt from out of his hand, sitting straight up.

He chuckled, sitting up and looking at me, licking his lips and looking at mine. "I like you. You hold your own. I also like how you came down to my crib a couple days ago. You slapped the fuck outta my boy." He said, laughing, at the glare I was giving him.

"Well, your boy ought to watch his mouth." I said, with a playful attitude. He slid closer to me, pulling my hair behind my ear. "Let me take you out on a date. You know, show you around a little bit." He said, pulling my face closer to his. I grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from my face. "Ion know. You seem like a fuck nigga." He looked back, pressing his hand against his chest. "Damn mama. That shit hurt my feelings." I cackled. Getting up, I walked towards the door with him close behind me.

I was about to answer again when the door swung open, hitting the wall. "LUCIOUS! FUCK YOU DOING IN HERE?" My brother, Mar, asked him. I crossed my arms, glaring at him. Oh, so now all of a sudden he cares who's in my room? Mf couldn't even stay home for my birthday. Gon show up hours late, fuck he get off at?

"Nothing, little nigga. Just talking to you, sis." He said, not taking his eyes off me. Mar walked closer to Lucious, grabbing his shirt. "Didn't I tell you to leave her alone? Come on, we have to go." And after he said "go", my heart dropped, and it made me more irritated.

"I'll see you later." He said. Kissing my cheek. "COME TF ON, MAN!" Mar yelled at him. Lucious glared at Mar before smiling at me one last time and walking out. I went and grabbed Mar's arm, and his eyes softened when he saw the tears in my eyes. I might have been acting dramatic, but I need to know if he was mad at me.

"What's wrong, NaNa?" He asked me softly. "What's going on with you, Mar? You've been ignoring me, missing school, and hanging around people I've never seen you hang around. You don't even talk to us anymore, and I understand that you are upset with Tish and Ant, but never with me. Our relationship has always been tight, and it's making me feel like I've done something to make you hate me. You weren't even here when my party started, so it made me feel like you wouldn't come. I just don't know. I feel like we are drifting apart." I said, with tears rolling down my face. I'm pretty sure my makeup is ruined.

Mar lifted his hands up to my face, wiping my tears. I hugged him tightly, crying into his shoulder. "I don't mean to hurt you, Nae. I'm just going through something. But I promise I'll talk to all of you, okay? And I wasn't here earlier because I was out buying you a gift. I've been missing school because I've been working." I pulled away from him, looking at him shocked. He chuckled, "Nothing illegal. I got a real job. So I can be more responsible. But I promise Imma to bring my grades back up so we can be the smartest out of Ant and Tisha again." I giggled and was awed at the gift he pulled out of his coat. I opened the long velvet box, and it was a name plate with engraving that said,"my twin forever" on it. I smiled, giving him another hug and kissing his cheek.

"Come on, we still have some time before Ma and Dad get here." He grabbed my hand, leading me out of my room and walking towards the step. "Oh, and Lucious ain't bad people. He is a good person; I just don't want you dating his ass. He a fuck nigga." I laughed as we walked through the crowd, looking for my people. "HERE'S TO 17 BITCHES." I yelled, raising my cup in the air. Having the people cheer with me

25 notes · View notes