#Travis Champagne

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have All the King’s Man 2006

[cantcatchmeee]

[tylrswfts]

𝓀𝒶𝓃𝓈𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒 | taylor & travis.

whirlwind weeks were nothing new to the blonde, of course, but this one had been a particularly wonderful whirlwind. nearing a week since her album's release and she was still on cloud nine -- floating, freely, with no intent of ever truly coming down as far as she was concerned. it wasn't lost on her that part of what had made this album cycle already so momentous was the muse of two of her most treasured songs on the release and the man who'd taken every curveball that'd been thrown at them in stride. taylor found it hard to imagine that tour would be whisking away her to portugal, and then paris, and then what felt like hundreds of other cities in only a few weeks. it was a thought she didn't think about often, or at least -- she tried not to. but, it was the first thought that snuck into her mind on sleepless nights. it wouldn't change things, of course, but beds would be colder and her heart would ache with an incessant longing. there was no time to fret about that now, though. as the football star had told her so astutely, celebrations were in order -- and like she had said, leave it to kansas city to know how to ring in a big win. she'd found him in the living room of his kansas city abode -- a home that was quickly feeling more like theirs and less like just his -- and snuck up behind him to press a kiss to the warmth of his cheek. "you still haven't really told me what all we're up to this weekend," she whispered coyly, arms wrapping around his neck and dangling loosely against his chest. "i can get down with a good surprise, but i'll be the first to admit that the anticipation is killing me." @killa--trav

[vrtlworld]

FRIDAY VISUALS

instagram @vrtlworld

[1991diamondaries]

[wegotobssesions]

[lyekisses]

see you again with wiz khalifa from wwwy night 1

[abignewscom]

Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce Meet Koalas at Sydney Zoo

Travis Kelce’s Vegas Celebration: A Recap Travis Kelce, the celebrated Kansas City Chiefs player, made headlines with his extravagant celebration in Las Vegas, following the team’s Super Bowl victory. This article delves into the details of his Vegas escapade and sheds light on his notable moments at the party.   Travis Kelce’s Vegas Celebration: A Recap Kelce’s Vegas celebration was nothing…

[whatemidoing]

just going from “she would’ve made such a lovely bride, what a shame she’s fucked in the head, they said” to last night

[formulawolff]

celebratory drinks - f.a.

pairing: journalist!reader x aston martin!fernando alonso

word count: 938

warnings: a little bit of cursing, nando being a flirt, alcohol use (the champagne pop), references to alcohol consumption

song inspo for the fic: sky walker (feat. travis scott) by miguel, travis scott (i just think this one is so nando coded)

"there he is," your voice is clear, yet your hand trembles as you grasp the microphone, "i think now is my moment. there's no one else approaching him."

"well what are you waiting for?" camren, your trusty videographer and assistant whispers, "go, go, go get him!"

"okay, okay!" your jaw clenches, the words barely making it out of gritted teeth.

before you stands spanish driver fernando alonso, donned in his signature aston martin fire suit. it's gorgeous emerald hue is darker than usual, dampened by the champagne showers. his dark locks are dripping, sticking to the back of his neck underneath his cap.

yet, he's as gorgeous as ever, stubble ghosting along his jawline, his brows knit in concentration as he speaks with lance stroll, his fellow driver and teammate.

you take a step forward, swallowing the lump in your throat. it was now or never. the perfect window to interview him for only a few minutes before he would be whisked away to the designated media room for the post-race press debrief.

"mr. alonso!" you call, "is it all right if i speak with you for a few minutes? i won't take up too much of your time."

at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curl upward into a radiant grin, "of course! i'm in no rush, actually. you can stall me a little before i have to go debrief."

a giggle bubbles up in your throat as you tap your badge, "although i do have a media badge, i do want let you know that this is going to be a very relaxed, very informal interview. i run a youtube channel that covers all things formula one. we talk a lot about you, actually."

"oh?" he arches a brow, "is that right?"

heat billows into your cheeks as you realize what you just blurted out. in front of one of your idols, no less. yet, you don't sense discomfort from the driver. if anything, he seemed more intrigued, his eyes taking you in as you sucked in a breath.

"well, we're doing a bit about your history with formula one," your voice is tad shaky, but you regain your confidence as he nods enthusiastically, "and of course, we're currently covering your time with aston martin. so, i wanted you to tell me if there was anything unique about your experience with aston martin thus far."

the driver blinks, processing your question for a moment. he brings a hand to his chin, shrugging slightly, "i think i can say that this team has been able to welcome me in with open arms. i'm sure you know that there is a lot of talk in the world of formula one with my age and all that, but they have been nothing but accepting and supportive."

"what has been your favorite moment of the season thus far? anything exciting or funny you'd like to share with us? also, when are you going to bring back that infamous celebratory dance?"

at the mention of the dance, there's a glimmer in his eye, "oh, so you know about that?"

"of course i do," you affirm, "our channel is dedicated to the history of formula one. i'm supposed to know it all, from the historical wins to the celebration dances."

"i can recreate it for you if you would like," he offers, his shoulders relaxing, he points to the camera, earning a laugh from camren, "here, watch this."

he pinches his shoulder blades together, raising his arms so that his elbows and wrists were angled. he sways back and forth, maintaining eye contact with the camera lens.

you can't help but laugh, the sound ringing out, "you're pretty ridiculous, mr. alonso."

"please," fernando waves a hand, "no need for the formalities bullshit. call me fernando."

"all right, fernando," you beam, "well, i think that's all i have for you. i didn't want to keep you for too long. i know you're a busy man."

that's when the driver pauses, taking a second to really look at you. his gaze rakes over your body, his tongue swiping along your lower lip.

for the race, you opted for a comfortable yet sort of glam look. on your top half, you sported a plain black t-shirt, the material a breathable cotton. denim jeans stretched down your legs, a mom-jean like style so that the thick fabric didn't cling to your frame. to compliment the shirt, you wore a black belt, pairing it with black adidas sambas. your hair was pulled into an updo, so that it wouldn't be all over the place or unkempt from the breezy conditions.

"you can come interview me whenever you would like," his tone shifts, his voice a little lower than it was moments before, "actually, how come you didn't question me sooner? i would've loved to see your gorgeous face around the paddock."

"like i said," your heart skips a beat, "you're a busy man, fernando."

"not busy enough for a gorgeous woman like you," he flirts, and you were sure your knees buckled at the statement, "what are you doing later?"

your eyes drift over to camren, who luckily had paused the recording, "i'm not too sure, why?"

"because i would love to take you out and buy you a couple of shots. to celebrate, you know."

"you're the one who was on the podium. if anything, i should be the one buying you shots," you fold your arms across your chest.

"oh no," he shakes his head, "no need."

"and why is that?" your brows furrow.

"because beautiful women don't buy their own drinks."

[psychostxr]

𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐢 | worth

PAIRING. jordan li x female! reader

WORD COUNT. 1.1k

WARNINGS. angst, cursing, homphobia, insecurities, racism (some are very brief)

NOTES. inspired by @maraschino-ch3rry post about jordan not being marketable

KEYS. (y/n) - your name e.g. paige, sam, etc. (l/n) - last name e.g. cole, thomas, etc.

Fairy lights and flowers decorate the foyer of Godolkin's Student Union as the night of Brink's Memorial Gala unfolds. Your satin dress flows elegantly, hugging and highlighting your figure with a refined slit. Champagne glasses twinkle as they float by on silver trays, a luxury you can't resist. Grabbing a glass of champagne, you take a small sip.

Your eyes wander, tracing the guests who have gathered for the occasion. The guests, staff members, trustees, benefactors, and a few students invited or could afford to buy tickets are here to 'support' Godolkin University. As for you, you're here to support your partner, Jordan, and find trustees willing to vote for them.

When you finally spot Jordan entering the foyer, your heart pounds against your ribcage at the sight of them. Jordan looks hot in their black suit, and the half-pearl half-chain necklace adds to their charm. However, Jordan's expression doesn't match the mood of the event. They're frowning.

You wonder why until you see their parents trailing right after them. Downing the rest of the champagne, you place the glass on a nearby waiter's tray and scurry over to Jordan, careful not to trip over your heels or dress.

"Jordan!" You grin, pulling them into a hug. Their arms wrap around your waist as your lips kiss their cheek before grazing their ear to whisper, "Stop frowning. You're too attractive in that suit to be sad."

Jordan chuckles, a smile cracking across their face. "Thank you," they murmur, kissing your cheek in return. 

Jordan takes a step back, revealing his parents behind them. You plaster on a fake smile towards Jordan's parents.

"(y/n), meet my parents, Paul, and Kayla Li. Dad, mom, this is (y/n)." Jordan pauses, gulping. "My girlfriend."

"Hi, it's so nice to meet you, Mr and Mrs Li," you say, offering your hand to shake.

Jordan's parents glance at each other, almost like they're communicating telepathically. Then, both of their lips quirked upwards. Paul chuckles, reaching out and eagerly shaking your hand.

"You have a girlfriend?" he questions, "Why didn't you tell us?"

Before Jordan can come up with an answer, you interrupt, "I'm sorry, that was my idea." You pull your hand away and rest it on your décolletage. "I didn't want Jordan to tell anyone. I'm a very private person."

"That's okay, dear," Kayla reassures. "We're just happy that Jordan's found someone is all."

"Well, it was nice meeting you both," you say, catching Jordan's parents' attention, "But Jordan and I have duties to attend to tonight." Like schmoozing trustees and securing votes for Jordan. "I hope to see you again soon."

Hooking an arm around Jordan's, you guide them away from their parents and towards the influential guests at tonight's gala.

"Private person, my ass," Jordan remarks once you both are far away from their parents. "One search of you on Instagram and pictures of me flood the app."

"You love it," you quip, unhooking your arm to hold Jordan's hand. "People know we're together, so they can't try shit when you're not around. Unless they want to get their ass kicked."

"You can't blame me. I don't like to share."

Rolling your eyes, you stop in your tracks, causing Jordan to halt.

"Earlier, before you arrived, I was scouring the guests, and I think a few people here would vote for you with enough persuasion. We just need to show them the marketable side of you." You gesture to a man nearby drinking champagne. "That's Daniel Travis, one of the trustees for Godolkin. We can start with him and work our way with the others."

Pulling Jordan, you walk towards Daniel Travis and put a smile on your face. "Mr Travis, I'm (y/n) (l/n), and this is my partner, Jordan Li. Could you spare a few minutes to talk with us?"

He lowers his glass. "Of course. What would you two like to talk about?"

"Well, as we know, trustees decide the rankings. And during the incident with Golden Boy, Jordan went down in rankings. We wondering if you'd like to vote for Jordan," you explain.

"I don't like to ring my own bell, but I am putting up the best stats of anyone here in forensics and combat," Jordan adds, "And to be honest, I'd love your vote."

"I've looked at your Q Rating, Name Recognition, and Social Trending, Jordan. They're down, and it's no secret," Daniel states bluntly, "Frankly, being bi-gender and Asian won't appeal to certain audiences in America, so, in terms of marketability, you're not in the best position."

Jordan's face falls at Daniel's harsh assessment. It's a tough pill to swallow. Daniel shifts his attention to you.

"But you (y/n)?" he says, "Your ratings are through the roof, and your control over your powers is remarkable! You're a marketable asset. But, you see, you could achieve even more if you broke up with Jordan."

The suggestion hangs in the air, a poisonous idea souring the elegance of the gala. Jordan feels a surge of anger and frustration at Daniel's audacity while you're shocked by his proposal.

You squeeze Jordan's hand, hoping to give them peace of mind while you resist the urge to use your powers and toss Daniel into a wall. Your eyes flash with a mix of anger and disgust.

"You must be out of your mind to think I'd ever let someone like you dictate my relationship," you retort sharply, "Now if you have nothing important to say, we're leaving."

With that, you lead Jordan away from the conversation, finding a quiet corner of the gala to catch your and Jordan's breath and collect your thoughts.

You knew that success could come at a cost, but compromising your relationship with Jordan wasn't a price you were willing to pay. Wrapping your arms around Jordan, you pull them into your embrace and kiss their temple. 

"Jordan, I'm so fucking sorry," you apologize softly, "I should've dug for more information on Godolkin's trustees before making any moves. I didn't expect that from Daniel."

Jordan sighs, resting their head on your shoulder. "It's not your fault, (y/n). But Daniel's got a point. My numbers are down. Nobody wants to see a bi-gender Asian Supe. Your numbers would be higher if we weren't together."

You shake your head, holding them tighter. "Jordan, don't listen to him. I love you with every fiber of my being. No marketing scheme or student ranking is worth more than my love for you. I don't care about the numbers. I care about you." You tilt their chin up, looking deeply into their eyes. "You are more than any label or statistic. I love you for who you are. Don't let anyone make you question your worth or our love. Because if anyone thinks otherwise, they can fuck off."

© psychostxr — all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, translate, or claim any of my works as your own.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

fever pitch (b.b) - prologue

soundtrack: mastermind - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: Bradley shoots his shot in public, but will he fumble when he meets you in person? warnings: language, drinking, meet cute notes: my first series in a while! this is shamelessly based on the epic Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce saga currently happening rn, and combine that with my innate love of football (the kicking kind, not the NFL kind) and... voila! I hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks. Happy reading! <3 ✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

Soccer Sensation Bradley Bradshaw Fails To Shoot His Shoot With Y/N At Her Concert?

Arsenal captain Bradley Bradshaw may be among his club’s top scorers this season, but even he misses a chance in romance like the rest of us.

The 29-year-old athlete spoke about his missed opportunity with the multi-platinum songstress Y/N while speaking to his former teammate Héctor Bellerín on the latter’s podcast, “More Than A Footballer”, earlier this week.

When asked about any fun stuff he did last weekend, Bradshaw replied,

“I went to the Y/N concert at Wembley [Stadium]... it was awesome. It was pouring rain, but it was amazing. I don’t remember Wembley ever being that electric aside from, like, cup finals. She was sensational.”

Bellerín nods in agreement, having heard great things about the famed singer-songwriter’s live concerts.

Unprompted, the American midfielder then continued,

“If you’ve heard about the tour, there’s this tradition of trading friendship bracelets. And I actually made one with my number on it, hoping I could give it to her after the show…”

The Cockney-raised Spaniard cackled in surprise and teased him, “But she didn’t wanna see you, bruv? [That is] legend!”

“No hard feelings!” Bradshaw raised his hands in defense over the Zoom call. “She needed to dry off and get warm. Gotta make sure she stays healthy, protect those vocal cords. But yeah, I was a bit bummed out about it.”

Bellerín laughed and jokingly addressed the camera, “Y/N, if you’re watching, give my boy a chance, will you?”

Mononymous pop sensation Y/N is hot off of her Kaleidoscope North American Tour, which wrapped in September. Her six-show run at Wembley Stadium this November officially kicks off the European leg of her sold-out tour. 

Will they be the next pop royalty and conquer the stadiums with their own crafts, or will this fizzle out as this week’s viral anecdote? The ball is in your court, Y/N.

Y/N’s representatives have not responded for comment.

***

Your Miu Miu heels click and clack against the ground. The pavement gleams after the rain and glistens under the streetlights. Everywhere you look, your eyes hurt. Down, and you worry about slipping into a puddle and falling on your ass. Forward, and a million camera flashes are ready to give you an aneurysm.

All in the name of reporting your night off of work, performing live in front of 90,000 people in a stadium.

In other words, all in a day’s work.

There’s a moment of reprieve, when the silvery white blitzes disappear into the dim tangerine lighting of the lobby. The flight down the stairs is so dark, you’re seeing green. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but as soon as they do, the thumping bass line of some dance music hits your ears. Clashing perfumes doused on the dancing, dressed-up bodies that you have to weave through.

You are seriously regretting your girl friends’ invite to a night out. You could’ve just had them over to your hotel, open a bunch of red wine, and you would’ve still had a blast. But no. You had to say yes to going to the Cuckoo Club with Lacey, Amara, and Jo.

And this evening is making you feel quite cuckoo.

There’s champagne at your booth and you’re much too eager to take a glass and start a toast. “Cheers, bitches!” you yell over the music, clinking your glass against theirs before downing the whole thing in one go.

It’s nowhere near enough.

There’s not enough buzz to dull the assault to your senses—not even after the three glasses of wine at dinner earlier. Everything is still too loud, too bright, too crowded, too… much.

“Hey!” you nudge Amara, who is sitting right next to you. “Let’s do shots!”

She turns to you, eyes widening at the slightest. “I thought you wanted to take it easy tonight!” 

“Changed my mind,” you shrug, as you get up to the bar.

While you make your way through the crowd on the dance floor, Bradley Bradshaw looks up from his booth and does a double-take at the girl who just walked by. Even in a high-end club full of the well-dressed and well-heeled, people still get starstruck. And why wouldn’t they? You’re about as famous as an iPhone. 

His eyes widen and immediately whips out his phone to shoot a text to his oldest and most trusted friend Natasha Trace.

‘Dude, I’m in the club and Y/N just walked in. What do I do??’

Natasha thankfully texts back almost immediately. Then again, maybe being a Communications Director for a major company requires her to be a good texter. ‘Wdym what do you do? Just go talk to her.’

‘You were supposed to introduce us!’ Bradley replies, eyes darting between his phone and you at the bar, conflicted.

Natasha is a mutual friend of yours, too, and when the Bracelet-gate clip went viral, she laughed in his face for a full 5 minutes before deciding to set the two of you up. But the schedule never really aligned, so he hasn’t got a chance to see you. Not even after he went to your concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream.

And now, seeing you here in the same room at the same time as him…

‘What do you want me to do, get down there and do it for you?’

‘...Can you?’

He senses the judgment even as the three dots appear on his screen. 

‘Stop being a pussy, Bradshaw. Let me Netflix and chill with my gf in peace.’

Bradley scoffs, half-annoyed and half-fond. ‘Asshole. Have fun.’

The dance floor clears up, just enough to see that you’re right there. Leaning against the bar in your dress like a dirty daydream, talking to the bartender, and he couldn’t just let you go without a word. He thought about it, and he simply couldn’t.

“Oi, where are you off to?” His teammate Martin hollers, while the others watch him make his way to the bar in determined strides.

He squeezes past patrons across this jungle of a club, hoping to God that somebody hasn’t beaten him to talk to you yet, or you haven’t ducked out completely. Oh fuck. You’re still there, though. Good. You’re still at the bar, still glimmering under the mirrorball. Just a tap on the shoulder away. You can do it, Bradshaw…

“Excuse me, I—”

You feel the hand on your shoulder just as you turn and stand up, and in a flurry of miscoordination, looks up just as the other person moves in.

In a stroke of dumb luck, Bradley feels the top of your head slamming up against his nose and he groans in pain. “Ohh!”

“Shit! Oh my God…” you gasp, reaching out to the man in front of you. He’s tall, very tall, and you can’t quite see his face with his massive hand clutching his nose. “I’m so sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. My bad…” It really doesn’t seem like it, so he lets go of his nose and smiles sheepishly. Gosh, he must’ve looked stupid right now.

But you see it differently. What you see is a dashing man in a sleek tieless navy suit and a well-groomed mustache, straight out of a Cinemascope flick, ever so handsome despite his reddened nose from the way you just accidentally headbutted him. “No, that was totally mine. Are you okay?”

Your eyes are crystal clear even in the dim light, the concern is palpable in your gaze—and rightly so. It’s just that he’d take the headbutt any day, if it means he can look at your beautiful face. “I’m… I’m swell. Y/N, right?”

There’s a shift in your gaze. First, alert—you’re assessing how much of a potential threat this person is, whether they’re gonna be weird about you— and then it relaxes. Not a threat. Then a slightest hint of mischief, like she wants to know what kind of dynamics they would have. “Have we met?”

And boy, can he.

“We haven’t, actually. But I went to your show at Wembley earlier this week. You were amazing.” He offers a handshake. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You didn’t quite catch his name over the blaring music, although you shake his hand anyway. “Sorry?” 

He leans into your ear, “I’m Bradley Bradshaw.”

You don’t know which one makes your heart skip, the sudden close proximity, the warmth of his timbre, or the whiff of his perfume.

“Right. Nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You accept his handshake, hoping he doesn’t see how flustered you are in the strobing purple light.

“Likewise.” He nods with a smile. “And may I just say… you look stunning.”

“What, this old thing?” You brush down the art nouveau-inspired Balmain dress on your body. You’re just being modest, of course; you know you’re dressed to the nines. You have never been much into facial hair, but somehow that mustache suits him very well. “You don’t look so bad yourself. You remind me of a… young Robert Mitchum. Or Paul Newman— or one of those Golden Age leading men.”

His face lights up. It’s hardly the first time he received that kind of compliment, but when it came from you, it feels… different. It feels special. It makes him just a little bolder. “Yeah? Maybe after a few drinks, I’ll be quoting lines from Butch Cassidy. Or would you prefer Cat On A Hot Tin Roof?”

This piques your interest. A man of culture, it seems. But of course, you can’t be too sure. “I’m more of a Paris Blues kinda gal, I’m afraid.”

Gosh, you don’t swoon so easily and he likes you so much for that. “Makes sense.”

“How so?”

“It’s a good underrated musical movie, for the musically gifted… And Sidney Poitier was just fantastic in that.”

“Huh.” You raise your eyebrows. You honestly thought he was just spouting the famous titles. But the fact that he has likely seen this hidden gem might just mean he’s really into it. “Aren’t you full of surprises.”

He leans in to speak in your ear yet again. “If you stick with me for a bit, I might show you another surprise or two.”

The music drowns out your racing heart just barely, and the bartender places a whole set of tequila shots on the bar top, and it snaps you out of your reverie for a moment. 

“Wanna get some air?”

He seems surprised, but of course he wasn’t gonna throw away this shot. “Sure. Why not?”

You instruct the bartender to send the shots to your booth, not even spending ten seconds to ponder staying in this deafening hell hole. Not when this man looks like peace. Perhaps an undercurrent of mystery underneath, but his whole demeanor is as calm and comforting as those old-school movies you put on to fall asleep. At the same time, something about this person pulls you in, it’s almost magnetic, and you can’t help wanting to see this through.

[tylrswfts]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐬 / taylor & travis.

Christmastime was a season well-loved in the Swift household, especially when it came to Taylor herself. A part of her wished the decor never had to come down, that life didn't have to go back to 'business as usual' once the holidays had come and gone. New Year's Eve was on the horizon, which made the ending of things mildly less bittersweet, but there was still a bit of a slump that Taylor found herself in now that the festivities were over. However, leave it to Travis to make every day nothing short of magical -- it was perhaps one of the reasons this holiday season had been so sweet. He'd stopped at nothing to make it one to remember, even if part of had been spent watching him from a box that had become very cozy and special over the past few months. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something felt a bit off. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, excitedly, but things didn't feel quite as usual. She felt... different. Looking for her phone and finding it shortly thereafter, Taylor called out to Travis from her place in the living room. "What're you thinking for New Years plans, baby? There's the big party in NYC, per usual..." she suggested, chewing a bit nervously on her lower lip. Why was she feeling so odd? "You know I love any excuse to get all dressed up with you," she added with a soft smile. "And, of course, undressed after." @killa--trav

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Re your dream: That smacks of MobBoss!Thor. Your current boyfriend is one of Thor's higher-ups and he brought you along to a dinner meeting and Thor is immediately taken with you. Thor is of course very charming and starts working on how to steel you away from your boyfriend.

Take a Seat

Warnings: allusions to mafia/crime, intimidation, suggestions of verbal and mental abuse, toxicity.

This might just be a drabble, but I'd appreciate a reblog and some feedback! You are loved and appreciated. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

"Those are mostly capos," Travis keeps his voice low as he points to the table nearby, keeping the glass in hand to hide his gesture, "I think…" he cranes around, "I might be the only soldier here…"

"Really?" You raise your brows but quickly resume your neutral preen.

You're intimidated as it is. You don't know much about Travis' business, and this is your first time seeing it from the inside. However, it doesn't seem to be anything more than an overly fancy dinner party.

"Oh, and that's Loki," he darts his eyes sharply to a slender man strutting at the other end of the room. He has a short liquor glass in hand and stops to lean on close to a blond man along the head table, "the boss's brother. The one he's chatting up right now." Travis leans in, "Thor…" he explains, "hon," he puts his hand on yours, "try not to stare. Lot of guys in here don't appreciate it."

"Sorry, I…" your eyes catch the pair of blue irises at the near table. The ones set into the chiseled face of that man proclaimed boss, Thor. Your lips part in surprise before you quickly avert your gaze. "I'm just nervous."

"Yeah, uh, well, try not to look like it," he reproaches. "Maybe…maybe I shoulda come alone."

You try not to frown. He does that. When you go out to dinner, if you don't keep a smile pasted on, suddenly the night is spoiled. Or even at home when you're having a quiet night in, you can ruin the night with one wrong word.

"I'll keep my eyes to myself," you promise, "okay?"

"Right," he nods past you and greets another man as he passes by. "Make sure you do. And if someone says hi, don't be so shy. I don't need you getting on the wrong side of these guys." He grabs his glass and takes a gulp, "this could be my in."

"Got it," you pinch the stem of your champagne flute and draw it closer but don't drink. Better not, sobriety will keep you out of trouble.

💍

Travis ends up at another table, enthralled in conversation with a pair of greasy haired gangsters in patterned velvet jackets. You stare at the table, trying not to attract any unwanted attention. Dinner is over and dessert has mostly gone untouched. You're just waiting for the end.

Thinking of the drive back, you should try to hit the bathroom before that. You peek around cautiously and stand, hugging your clutch to your side as you carefully sidle out from between the table and chair. You keep your head down and make your way to the wall, following it to the short hallway that leads to a set of restrooms.

Inside, you take your time, relieved at the moment of privacy. As you wash your hands, you watch your reflection. You look tired even through your makeup.

You grab your purse and go back out. You hold back a yawn as you get to the end of the hallway and you stop to search the room, making sure Travis is where you left him. You take a step, nearly tripping as a deep voice rumbles from closeby.

You think of ignoring it, assuming they're speaking to someone else, but then you remember what Travis said. You turn and look around.

The blond man, the one with the burly shoulders that threaten the seams of his tailored jacket, grins at you. His fingers are woven together and his elbows rest on the table. He winks at you as you peer around in confusion, expecting someone else to be closeby. It's only you.

"You," he separates his hand and points in your direction, "I do not know you."

You open and close your mouth. You step closer as you swallow and find a smile through your nerves. You grip your purse tight and pronounce your name.

"I'm with Travis. Er, Mallory. My boyfriend. Uh, sir."

His eyes twinkle with amusement, "Thor," he introduces, "sir? Please, none of that is needed. Not for a pretty woman like you."

"S-thank you, Th-Thor," you sound utterly stupid as you try to keep your calm. If Travis saw you talking to this man, you know it would be bad. He wouldn't want you messing up his prospects.

"Sit," his invitation is more a demand.

You can't refuse. What little you know of this business suggests he is even more dangerous than Travis. You go around the table as Thor stands and pulls out the empty chair next to him. You sit and make yourself breathe.

"Boyfriend?" He resumes his seat, angling to face you, "not husband?"

"Not yet," you say.

"And why would he wait?" He wonders as you wilt against his handsome gaze.

"I'm sure he'll propose soon," you shrug, "dinner was great."

"Ah, it was delicious," he sits back, "though my company was not so pleasing." He bends his arm against the table, "not like you."

"I… thank you. That's very, uh, flattering."

"It's the truth. I'm afraid I was probably poor company myself. Being as distracted as I was," his eyes cling to you, "wondering who this beautiful stranger is."

You look away. He's charming, if not a touch cheesy. You don't know how to handle it.

"There you are," Travis saves you from your conundrum. "I was just thinking we should–" he stops and clears his throat, "sir," he stands at the end of the table, "hi, er, I didn't see you there," it's obvious his surprise is fake, "Travis Mallory, I work with Haakonson."

"Ah, yes, he is a reliable capo," Thor shifts and puts his hand on the back of your chair, "I was only just having a discussion with your… girlfriend."

"Oh? That's…great," Travis is less than convincing.

"Yes, I was just agreeing with her that it's really too bad you haven't proposed," Thor asserts and your eyes widen. "A girl like her should have a ring on her finger."

"Yea, sir, I agree, I, um, I was… trying to surprise her–"

"Ah, so you have a ring? Diamond? I think a teardrop becomes this one but she might do well with a princess cut," Thor proclaims as he takes your hand, drawing a wince from you. "She should be adorned in gold and gems."

"Sir, I know, I've been working on it–"

"Ah, ah," Thor keeps his hand on yours, "I don't like excuses. And she shouldn't settle for them."

Thor raises your hand and kisses your knuckles. You can only let him. Your scalp spatters with heat as you nearly combust between the two men.

"She deserves a throne… look at her, a queen."

"Sir, thank you. She is. I take care of her–"

"Do you?" Thor accuses, "how do you take care of her?"

You don't dare tug your hand away despite the urge to do just that. You sit frozen as his hand crushes yours. You slowly turn your head to glance at Travis, his cheek twitching in agitation.

"I…" he swallows and tries to wet his dry mouth. He can't yell this man into submission and he knows it.

"Let me give her the throne she deserves," Thor snickers and leans over. His nose tickles your ear and he lowers his voice to a whisper, "come, kitten, sit in my lap."

He sits back and you gape at him, shocked by his suggestion. No, it's an order. You blink and look at Travis again. Thor hits the table with his large hand, the plates and cutlery clattering.

"You don't need his permission," he pulls on your arm, "you need only my word."

"S-sorry," you slide forward in the seat and stand stiffly.

Thor releases your hand and shoves his chair back, running his large hands over his thighs. You step in front of him and he frames your hips, pulling you down before you can think to refuse. You fall into his lap, bracing his forearm to keep your balance.

"Now that is where a woman like her belongs," Thor leans into you and rests his chin on your shoulder, "with a king, not a peasant."

You look at Travis, horror pumping in your veins, a fear reflected in his drawn face. Thor brushes a hand up your stomach and turns his head to nuzzle your neck. The tickle of his beard makes you moan.

Thor lifts his head at last, his arm hooked around you as he clings to your tightly, "what a wonderful gift you brought me, soldier."

Travis does not move. He just stares, blinking as his fingers twiddle at his side. Your lip trembles. What do you do?

"You are dismissed," Thor enunciates harshly.

Travis bites down, jaw clenching tightly, and he murmurs, "yes, boss."

His sole scuffs as he drags his foot back. You watch him in disbelief. He's just leaving you there.

"You see, kitten," Thor reaches to pet your head, "he is not good enough for you. You deserve more than a coward."

[enaelyork]

Can we get a Cooper Howard x female reader fic where reader is in an abusive marriage and he helps her leave (by any means necessary)? Need him to get violent and defensive over me -swoon- and of course they end up together?

Thank you in advance!!

Hi my dear !

That's a good idea, i try to make something =) Let's go.

Pre-war/ Divorced Cooper/ Cooper x f!reader.

Warning : Abusive mariage/ violences/ injuries.

Ask for Cooper Howard is OPEN

- I'm divorced.

What luck.

She looked around, as if arguing with him was a crime punishable by death. There was nothing wrong with that, though: Cooper had been her friend throughout her adolescence and they had lost touch until this filming. What a strange coincidence that fate decided to put him on her path again.

Him, so charming and luminous while she had decided to join the darkness.

- I don't know if you can call that luck.

She jumps. Damn, had she said those words out loud? Red comes to her face as she completely drinks her glass of champagne, pouring out apologies.

- It's not. No. I didn't mean such a thing. Really, I'm sorry. And don't think I'm unhappy with my husband, it's just that.

- You are here.

His voice made his blood run cold. A bit like every time she emerged behind his back. He was a shadow always lurking behind her, even when she couldn't see him. A shadow that terrified her. Had he seen it? Had he seen the mask of terror settle on her face? Had he noticed everything she tried to hide behind her long-sleeved dress in the middle of summer? He understood, by discovering this man, what was going on in his life.

- Oh, you're good, Travis. She said, trying to hide the hint of panic that distorted her voice. I guess you remember Cooper. We went to high school together and I now work with him on set.

His silence was worse than a sentence. He looked at Cooper with an undisguised desire to drag you away from him. But as usual, Travis, your perfect little husband, knew how to play his role perfectly in public.

- Y/N told me so much about you. I've seen your films, you know? I find you brilliant.

He had grabbed her hand and she had guessed the grimace that her husband was trying to hide. Cooper, for his part, had a glint in his eyes that she didn't know existed, a glint resembling anger. - Likewise, Travis. She is full of praise for you. It was totally false.

He had just discovered her husband's identity and the only thing he could have seen during the early stages of filming was how important it was for her to finish on time. How important it was that we didn't see her smiling in any public photos, or even her own shadow. How important it was that she was invisible.

- I think Y/N and I are going home, right, darling? She nodded automatically: it was the only thing she was allowed to do when he gave her an order and her hand gripped his arm so tightly that a grimace of pain tied her mouth.

- We hadn't finished our discussion.

No one around them suspected what was going on, there, in the middle of the large gala hall in which the producer had decided to give a reception. It was going to turn into a fiasco, soon, if they continued to stare at each other like two animals ready to devour each other.

- It's finished. Darling. We're going back.

She wanted to protest. Telling him that she wanted to stay with Cooper and continue to be herself. Simply live. But she didn't have the strength, at no time had she had the courage to say no, to take her things and leave. Which made her, in his eyes, more worthless than she had ever been. Her eyes met Cooper's, and she hoped she wasn't too pathetic when her husband's impulse pulled her away from him. But his gaze, the one that looked at her at that precise moment, will probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

What a terrible irony.

--------------------------------

They never spoke about it again.

Cooper had tried, between two scenes, at every pause, to discuss the incident with her, but Y/N kept dodging the question. She knew that if she were to confess the horror to him, she would never be strong again. And then it was Cooper. How would he view her if he learned how ruined her life was? How would he look at her, compassion or, worse, pity?

No, that was out of the question. You were hitting on him, you little whore. The violence of his words and gestures still resonated within her several weeks before.

The suffering was so firmly anchored in her that she had done everything possible to avoid being found wanting: walking along the walls of the film set like a ghost, she did not linger after the day and returned directly to the House. But that wasn't enough anymore.

Travis became more demanding of her every day, more possessive too, going so far as to control his own appearance.

- I wish you would resign. He dropped this bombshell over breakfast, a few months after filming began.

- Sorry ?

Without looking up from his newspaper, his feet resting on the table and ignoring the pancakes she had just prepared for him, he continued his cruel sentence.

- You heard what I just said. I was nice to you by letting you work for my friend Jim, but you screwed it up again. You are not capable of doing what I ask you. You're not capable of anything, in fact.

- You can't ask me that, Travis, please. I like my job. I'm sorry, just tell me what to do.

Without her expecting it, the newspaper flew towards her, slapping her face violently. A cry of surprise, immediately muffled by the violence with which he grabbed her arm.

- You see, that’s the problem with you. You are so stupid that you don't even understand when you exceed the limits. If you had listened to my demands from the start you wouldn't be here. So tonight, you better quit that job. Did you understand ?

She had nodded, hoping that this way he would finally let go, that her blood would be able to circulate in her arm again. But he threw it back with such violence that her body hit the kitchen shelf, knocking down a few cups which shattered on the floor.

- And put it away! Always making a mess.

It wasn't long after he left that tears flooded her eyes.

---------------------------------------------------------

Nothing had gone as planned that day.

After tidying up the kitchen, cleaning the sores that dotted her skin, Y/N had arrived on set late. A delay that had not escaped Cooper and his suspicious gaze. He shouldn't have known anything. However, while she was trying to flee, he followed her in the corridor leading to her dressing room, trying to call her in vain.

Don't turn around. Don't turn around.

But when he blocked the door to her den, preventing her from taking refuge there, Cooper not only discovered her distress. He saw her eyes red with tears, her hands bruised and, worst of all, fear flooding her irises.

- It's him ?

Y/n's lips began to tremble like never before, not even her legs were still able to keep her upright. So, without her having time to understand what was happening to her, her body abandoned her. Her mind tried to live in denial but nothing else in her could reject the evidence.

It was destroyed. Yet her legs never touched the ground, her body did not shrivel against the wall. Because the warmth of Cooper's arms enveloped her in a feeling she hadn't known in a long time.

Sweetness.

So she forgot everything. The fear, anguish and guilt she felt at being in such a situation. She forgot the pain that ached her arm and shoulders and, instinctively, she hugged him, hoping that this way he would keep her alive.

- You have to leave, Y/N.

Filming had been suspended today and Jim had believed Cooper's lies about feeling unwell. However, she did not return home, remaining locked in this lodge as in a bastion.

Leave ? The idea had already crossed his mind. It would have been so simple if she didn't depend on Travis for a whole bunch of things. Being an actress was not an easy job and the income was irregular at such a stage of her career. So she rejected the idea, shaking her head vehemently.

-I can not do that.

- Of course yes. You can. Just gather your things and go.

- How ? Eh ? Do you think he won't stop me? Really, it's impossible.

Cooper had no intention of stopping there. She knew it. But what could he understand about her life? He who had a happy marriage and whose divorce had gone smoothly? She knew that he was on good terms with his ex-wife for the well-being of his daughter, that this divorce had gone smoothly because they had realized that they no longer aspired to same thing. Barb had been an exemplary wife, their marriage had been based on mutual trust and they had separated on good terms.

So what could he understand about her life? Why did he seem so heavily affected by his situation?

-I will help you.

She raised her head. Had she really heard what he had just suggested to her? A nervous laugh escaped her lips before she stared at his determined expression. Was he serious?

-You go pack your bags and I'll come pick you up.

- To go where ? I have nowhere to go, Coop! My friends don't talk to me anymore and you saw the way he reacted when we...

Her words died in her mouth, realizing that she had called him by his nickname for the first time and that she hadn't completely rejected the idea.

- I can talk to Barb about it. She has friends in the region who will certainly be delighted to host you. He paused, visibly hesitant to finish his sentence.

-There is room at my house.

- At your house ?

There was nothing in her stomach but butterflies trying to escape. Had he really just asked her to live with him? It took her breath away, so much so that she had to blink several times to make sure she was awake.

- You would have your privacy, obviously. But it’s a base not too far from work until you can find a place of your own.

She had grabbed his hands without realizing it, as if to hold on to a rampart before falling into the void. Cooper had just offered to live with him, and the idea brought a little warmth to her completely bruised heart.

- He's not going to like this idea at all.

- But it's the only option for you to get out of this, Y/N. I don't know how you feel about this man, but for your own well-being you need to leave.

She didn't know it. What she did know, however, was the effect Cooper had on her life. It wasn't just savior syndrome. Since seeing him again on that set, something inside her had cracked, a shell that she had tried to erect to prevent herself from loving anyone, including herself.

- It's OK. She finally gave in.

The smile Cooper gave her then would stay in her mind for a long time.

- Should I contact Barb?

- No. It's with you that I want to live.

Realizing too late the fervor of her words, she put her hands over her mouth to prevent her from saying something even worse.

- If you agree, of course...I...I don't want to impose myself. Oh, god, I'm so sorry.

- You no longer have to apologize for being yourself, Y/N. It's all over now.

His hands were still in hers and Y/N wondered why he didn’t take them out as soon as he had the chance. Sitting face to face, they looked at each other in a strange silence, charged with a gentle and soothing tension. A deep relief came over her at that precise moment.

She was going to leave. Leave with Cooper. And she could no longer hold back her tears.

------------------------------------

- Did you do what I asked you?

- Of course.

No.

She hadn't done any of that. She had neither resigned nor decided to cut ties with anyone. Instead, she came home in the afternoon to pack a suitcase and wait. Wait for the right moment. Travis had a charity event that night. A gala to which he had not invited her. Pretending that she had no place there. So much the better.

This was the perfect opportunity to put the plan into action. This evening, Travis showed no attention towards her. Yet that was what he did when he had obtained satisfaction: a tender gesture, a chaste kiss on her cheek.

He just brushed his fingertips against her shoulder, a movement that sent a jolt of terror through her.

-Don't wait for me to eat, I'll be back very late.

And silence returned almost immediately, freeing his heart from the vice that was compressing it. It didn't take long for her to contact Cooper, take down the suitcase she had hidden in the attic and come back down to the forecourt.

When she finally saw the car appear, a wind of relief chased away the fear that still held her back.

Then she froze.

Terrorized.

It wasn't Cooper's car.

He had come back. He had forgotten something and came back to get it.

- What are you doing here ? His voice was laced with a rage she had never seen before. A destructive, petrifying rage.

- I…Travis…

- What are you doing here with this damn suitcase?

The kick sent the latter flying to the other side of the sidewalk. Usually, Travis didn't show any aggression towards her in public, but this time, discovering her outside with a suitcase in her hand had got the better of his legendary self-control.

-Did you want to leave? Did you want to do this dirty trick to me, little whore?

She was screaming. She hoped that someone would come out of these nice little tidy houses to get her out of there. But nothing. Not a single neighbor wanted to get involved in this carnage and she was going to pay dearly for it.

He pushed her violently, causing her to fall onto the lawn in their garden. The pain pierced her back so violently that it took her breath away, but when his hand grabbed her hair, she screamed so loudly that her voice hoarse.

- Shut your mouth ! Shut your fucking mouth! Piece of…

Travis didn't have time to finish his sentence. Something had stopped him.

A violent shock that had just hit his jaw, forcing him to release his grip on her hair.

-Cooper!

- Get in the car. Hurry up.

She wanted to cry, to stand there and watch Travis wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth. But the fear that still animated her gave her the impetus to flee without looking at what was happening before her eyes.

Cooper had arrived and he had just hit Travis with such force that he could barely keep his balance.

- I'm going to find you, bitch! he exclaimed towards her. But Cooper's hand grabbed him so tightly by the collar that he couldn't take another step.

- You're not going to do anything at all, because if you try to approach her again, I can't guarantee you that I'll settle for a punch.

He violently pushed Travis away, letting him fall to the ground before turning around. At that moment, Y/N became aware of her husband's weakness. He had been merciless with her because she was fragile, that was the only reason he had fun with her.

And it was over.