#What do you expect from a couple from Texas? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wcters · 2 months

Text

𝟳 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗖𝗛𝗥𝗜𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬/𝗡 𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗖𝗨𝗧𝗘 (𝗣𝗟𝗨𝗦 𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧)

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: you find a video of a series of clips that someone found of you and chris being cute

warnings: established relationship, swearing, kissing, covid (yes, it has to be a warning because it is horrible)

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise when you saw the title 7 minutes of Chris and Y/n being cute. You had just been scrolling on YouTube while sitting on the couch of the triplets house, waiting for the boys to be back from filming. You had started on Instagram, catching up on family and friends, and liking some posts that you were tagged in. You then moved to YouTube after getting bored and there was nothing new on your feed.

You never expected to see something like this besides the five to ten second clips on TikTok when you’re caught in the back of a video or posted on someone’s Snapchat story, but you were surprised and entertained that someone had gotten a whole seven minutes. You weren’t an influencer or content creator of any kind; you worked a menial job and only posted on Instagram and TikTok, and rarely featured in the boys’ videos. You knew you would be in the public eye when you and Chris started dating, but you didn’t expect your relationship to have a following.

You ended up clicking on it, interest taking over and the amount of views reeling you in. You wanted to see why the video was so popular . . . And maybe show it to Chris when he came home. The first thing that greeted you was an intro, and then the clips started. The first one was from a recent video where Nick, Matt, and Chris travelled to Texas for a Sam and Colby collab. You tagged along, wanting to go to a couple stores and also offered to help film for the duo’s video. The clip was where Nick decided to wake up you and Chris with Lemonade. You barely remembered that happened as you were so drowsy, and are still confused why the oldest brother thought it was so funny.

Nick walked towards the bed where you and Chris were laying down. Chris was on his back with his head facing the direction of the camera. You were on your stomach, head tucked into the boys neck as your arm was sprawled across his chest. Chris opted to sleep shirtless even though it was insanely cold in Texas while you were wearing a sweater and some spandex, your leg peeking out of the comforter. When you and Chris cuddled when you slept, he always ended up burning hot and you subconsciously slip some part of your body out of the covers.

“Chris do you want a sip?” Nick’s voice was heard as he tilted the bottle of lemonade towards you both. “Y/n?” You made a ‘hm’ sound and Chris lifted his head up, delirious but still making sure not to knock your head. He put it down once he saw his brother. He shuffled a little bit, turning his head. “Do you want a sip or no? Are you thirsty?” Nick continued, tilting the bottle even more? This time you had opened your eyes, looking up at your best friend. “Nick . . . What?” You questioned, confused. “Of what Nick?” Chris’s voice came from beside you, hoarse from sleep.

“Lemonade. Do you guys want some?” The oldest triplet continued. You curled more towards Chris and tightened your arms around him as you made a sound of annoyance. “Nick, I’m tired. Please.” You begged him, shoving your face into the crook of your boyfriends neck again. “Are you fucking stupid?” Your boyfriend asked, awake enough to realize what was happening and get angry. “Leave us alone.” Nick raised his hands in defense. “Alright, alright. It’s over here if you want it,” he spoke as he placed it down. “Go away.” You murmured as you fell back asleep, Chris turning towards you.

The next clip was the boys on the podcast. They were talking with Nate about childhood memories and growing up together in Boston. The camera flipped from Matt to Chris as he was doing something on his phone. “━━ I’m sorry Matt. Chris . . . what are you doing?” Nick interrupted the boy as he faced towards Chris. Chris lifted his head in surprise. “We’re literally doing a podcast. Who are you texting?” “Probably Y/n.” Nate guessed as the whole table started to laugh except for Chris. “No, I’m not.” He denied as he covered his face with his hands. “You totally were.” Matt argued. “Okay, fine, I was. It was about something important though so let’s drop it and get back to what we were talking about.” Chris shut the conversation down and placed his phone on the counter face up.

“Alright. Matt, what were you saying?” Nick turned to Matt. The topic was dropped but every once in a while Chris would look at his phone. The group must’ve been really into the podcast as no one noticed your car pull up, or the door opening and you walking in. You had placed the cases of Pepsi and Doctor Pepper on their counter before opening the Pepsi case, grabbing one, and heading upstairs. Nate was in the middle of talking about hockey when they heard your footsteps. Everyone swivelled their heads to see you walking into the room with a can of Pepsi. “Oh. My. God. Chris.” Nick gasped as he saw you. “Hi,” you waved, “sorry to interrupt.” “It’s no problem babe.” Chris responded, grabbing your body as you got close and put you in his lap.

“Did you call her all the way over here to bring you Pepsi?” Matt asked, clearly shocked. Chris blushed out of embarrassment in response. “You think he wouldn’t?” Nate butted in making everyone laugh. “I also got Doctor Pepper,” you shrugged, “I was also getting off work.” Your boyfriend pointed to you. “Like I said, it was important.” Nate was laughing as his best friends stared at their bother in shock. “Alright, I’m going to head out. The cases are downstairs. Anyone want one?” You asked, getting up off of Chris. There was a chorus of ‘no thank you’s’ from around the table. “Thank you.” Chris smiled at you as he grabbed your hand and kissed it. “Yeah, yeah. Have fun!” You waved as you headed downstairs.

The first time you had really been “revealed” to the fan base was on a livestream . . . And it was by accident. This clip was shorter than the rest, but it was probably the most popular if you had to guess. You had been dating Chris for awhile and this live was around the time when they started to get attention and more followers on their social media. It was back in their house in Boston. Nick had started a livestream for whatever reason and Matt had joined it after a couple minutes. You and Chris were watching a movie in his room so you didn’t participate ━━ and the fact that people didn’t even know about you. You didn’t even know it was happening, the boys didn’t text and warn you guys, so when you went downstairs with Chris to get some popcorn and drinks, both of your figures were shown in the background.

Nick and Matt didn’t even notice you guys until you appeared in front of them and were in the middle of opening the fridge. They looked to the chat to see if they saw you . . . And they definitely did. Not enough to identify you because all of the comments were asking who you were, but still enough to let people know Chris had a girlfriend. The two boys looked at each other before muting the live. It stayed on for a minute or two before they had ended it with a quick ‘goodbye’. Next thing you knew, #chrissturniologirlfriend was trending on your twitter with pictures of you and Chris from the live plastered over the tweets. That’s what led to the soft launch Instagram post and your presence being known, as well as you making your Instagram private for awhile.

A certain clip had you smiling and blushing like a little kid, remembering it happening and the whole trip. It was when went to Vermont for their annual family holiday and Chris had asked you to come along, as well as Nick and Matt. You said yes, but we’re nervous. I mean, you were going on your first trip with his parents? They ended up loving having you there, but you were scared shitless. Nick was holding the camera showing Matt feeding some of the Alpacas with Chris in the back.

You could see the brunette go slightly out of frame before he comes back, you trailing behind. “Come on,” he said to you, “just try it.” You playfully rolled your eyes before he passed you some of the feed and you held it out. You let out a noise of surprise as the alpaca started to eat it. “Oh my god.” You whispered, looking at it before pulling away. You were clueless to the camera showing you and Chris whispering while you were holding each others hand. “Do you want to do it again?” Your boyfriend asked you. “I think I’m alright.” You laughed. “Here’s a couple change to get some more food though.” He kissed your cheek as you passed him some coins from your pocket. “You’re the best,” he said before quickly kissing you and going back to the machines.

You never knew how they get their hands on them, but so many clips of Chris and Matt playing lacrosse ended up on your for you page and feed on Instagram. You didn’t even know those were on the internet except for Mary-Lou’s socials. There were so many edits of that clip of Chris taking his helmet off and them posing for a picture with all three of them and their mom, but you had yet to see this one. It was practically the same, all four lined up while their picture was getting taken. Then Mary-Lou made a ‘come here’ movement with her hand and you appeared on camera next to Chris. You remembered that moment and being so proud, but not video taped.

You posed for a couple pictures with them, then just you and the triplets. They were also your best friends, you even came to the game with Nick and Mary-Lou. You three had gossiped while watching the game and taken so many videos. Then, the two brothers moved away and Mary-Lou moved into frame with her phone up. It was just you and Chris posing this time, and it caught you licking your finger to get some of the leftover face paint that was a little messed up off his face. Chris had made a weird face but let you do it anyway. You would’ve slapped his hand away if he even tried. You think you said something along the lines of “you’ll thank me later.”

You had watched Larray after you had seen some of his vines on a vine compilation while YouTube was just filled with those. You were so excited ━━ and jealous ━━ when the twins got noticed and met up with Larray for the first time. You were even more excited when you met him. You had watched him for years, through all his phases, so you recognized when one of his videos popped up.

“Where would you want your first date?” Chris had asked Larray. They talked about Larray’s choice of waffle house before Chris said “I want to go to Topgolf.” “You want to hit balls with your girl?” Arrington replied, looking at Chris. “Well, I didn’t have a chance to take Y/n on a first date in LA, and we’ve only went with Matt and Nick, so I’d want to go to TopGolf with just her,” Chris explained, “our first date back in Boston was at some mini golf place. I’d like to take her to remind her of our first one . . . And because we both like TopGolf.” “That was so cute.”Larray chimed in, covering his mouth with his hand. “It’s one of the only times.” Matt joked which earned a slap from his brother. “That’s so not true.” He argued. “Either way, it’s well deserved. She’s amazing.” Larray praised you.

You remembered watching this with Chris when it came out and literally standing up in shock, hitting him when you got up. “You got more excited over Larray complementing you than me being cute and talking about us?” Chris asked in shock. “You think I wouldn’t?” He nodded at that. “Still upset, but that is true.”

The last clip was one of you and Chris like the rest . . . But also Nick and Matt. Nick had had a cold the last time you saw him, Matt, and Chris. He didn’t think it was anything but a cold, but it turned out it was COVID. Chris let you know as soon as they figured it out, and then Matt tested positive. You felt bad because they were stuck in the house for at least a week . . . And they’re not the best at cooking food for themselves, all they did was just order in or go out if you didn’t bring over some food or cook when you’re over there.

Since you weren’t over there, you figured you would go over and drop off some pre-made food and some other drinks and necessities like medicine, toilet paper, masks, tests, etc. You had had the weekend off so you had time to go over and help them. You didn’t know they were vlogging so you were surprised when you knocked on Chris’s door with a mask and a bowl of soup and he greeted you with a camera in your face. “Y/n? What are you doing here?” He asked you, tilting the camera down a bit. “I felt bad because you guys - no offence - eat like shit and thought you would want some homemade food.” You laughed, giving him the bowl as he put the camera down.

“Thanks. I miss your cooking and you over here. It’s so fucking boring.” He told you. “I’m sure you’ll survive. On the kitchen counter there’s some medicine, masks, tests, and some other stuff that you might run out of. If you need anything else.” He nodded. “I wish I could hug and kiss you but I’m sick and don’t want to get you sick.” “How am I going to survive?” You teased, smiling at him from under the mask. “I don’t know. Well, anyway, go save Nick and Matt too. I’m sure they’ll appreciate you.” Your boyfriend smiled at you as he waved and closed the door.

It was almost the exact same situation with Matt and Nick. Door opening with a camera in your face and surprise written in theirs. You had given them your soup and the same rundown you gave Chris. They said their ‘thank you’s’ and Nick promised to give you a hug. This was all caught on camera and added into the vlog, with an edit from Nick saying “you saved our lives.”

#emma writes #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #x reader #x fem!reader #imagine #youtube #youtube imagine #fanfic

1K notes · View notes

joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

lean on me

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.

pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.

September, 2020

Joel had known things would get bad.

But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.

He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”

Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table.

She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”

“Tess—”

“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state.

You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately.

You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel.

“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”

“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”

“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”

He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”

“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”

“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.

“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”

“Tess, I’ve tried—”

“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”

She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”

He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.

After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.

“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”

Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”

Joel’s expression immediately softened.

Fuck.

He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.

“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”

You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.

Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless.

He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”

“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”

“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”

You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”

“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone.

“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”

For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless.

He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.

Because you were absolutely fucking right.

None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed.

And what could he do about it?

Not a goddamn fucking thing.

Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that.

He could have done more.

He should have done more.

Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time.

Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”

He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”

Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again.

And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.

“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.

“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”

You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”

“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.”

Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.

“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat.

You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”

Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”

“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”

“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.

He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it.

A single white pearl hung from the chain.

“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”

You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”

He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”

Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”

You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”

He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”

“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.

Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”

“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.

It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you.

Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you.

“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.

Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.

He wanted to see the baby.

“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”

Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller angst #joel miller hbo #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x wife!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #fic: tdtrt

3K notes · View notes

oncomingnight · 10 months

Text

Yandere! Jock ⋆.ೃ࿔* :･

I thought of writing this while I was drinking coffee and listening to music and I just couldn"t help myself. So, I decided to give you guys some southern representation which I'm surprised I haven't done already since I'm from Texas. I hope you all enjoy and never hesitate in reaching out to me ♡.

Emmett was positioned as the quarterback in his high school football team. He was an incredibly good student in both terms of behavior and knowledge. It wasn't rare for anyone that was into men to have an attraction to him, if you didn't want to date him, then, you wanted to be his closest friend. There was an extremely alluring nature that Emmett carried with him that made everyone around him feel as if they were on top of the world. If you were hanging out with him and a couple of friends, he was always the complete reason as to why you were laughing and smiling.

He would constantly invite you over to his house and if your parents were strict, he'd go to your house and enter through a window to your bedroom. He'll be quiet he swears, but don't be surprised if you have to slap your hand over his mouth when he loudly coos over your childhood pictures.

As expected, Emmett comes from an extremely powerful family that has connections on connections. This means that any crime committed by him would be quietly hidden away from the public eye, why wouldn't he take advantage of that? He keeps an incredibly close eye on you so he notices when someone either flirts or insults you.

Any of those actions end in death for the perpetrator.

His mom and dad absolutely adore you, along with his younger brother. His brother will show you his newly bought toys and his parents are constantly asking him about you. "She's a real sweet girl, Em. When do you think she'll be comin' back to visit?" Each and every time Emmett brings you on over to his house, you're greeted with three tight, warm hugs and a table full of delicious southern comfort food.

His hands are practically stitched to your body at all times of the day. He'll softly grab your waist with his ring-ridden hand, caressing both sides of your face as he kisses you as if it's the last thing he'll do, gently touching your thighs whilst the two of you lay in his bed.

He loves nothing more than the feeling of knowing you're watching him as he's playing on the field, this motivates him to work even harder to hear your words of praise after the game is over. Teammates of his will tease him about the love-drunken look he gives you when the two of you are together and how ecstatic the expression on his face is as you gush about his performance. He couldn't care one bit, though, if anything, he adores thinking about how in love the two of you look to the outside world.

His favorite song artists he enjoys listening to as he thinks about you are Glen Campbell, Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton, Ray Charles, Cleve Francis and The Delfonics.

Emmett will drive you to a drive-in movie theater, placing homemade food, snacks, bottled drinks, quilted blankets, fluffed pillows and a camcorder (for memories) into the truck bed.

He's well aware that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you and he wants to make life perfect for you. Emmett wants to move into a big ol' house surrounded by fertile and green land, the only thing is, he wants to build your future home. One night as the two of you were cuddled up in his bed and watching a thriller, he popped the question. "What do you want? In a house, I mean. Do you want an arched doorway, a patio, or a cute lil' greenhouse in the back? Tell me, I'll give you anythin' you want, you know that, baby."

Every time him and his family go on a group vacation, he'll always invite you as if he didn't already book a plane ticket for you. He couldn't imagine anything better than spending almost a month together with you and sharing a hotel room.

How could you ever say no?

Emmett would be at the mall with his family and purchase anything he knows will look good on you without any hesitation. That same day, he'll call you before knocking on your window to present the gift he purchased whilst thinking of you. The floral dress he'd bought being packaged in a black velvet box with a dark red satin ribbon wrapped around it.

In southern culture, there is no shock towards young couples being wed as soon as they finish high school. So, don't be surprised when he gets on one knee during a candle lit dinner he prepared in the middle of the botanical garden he bought out just for this night.

He's yours forever.

2K notes · View notes

fangirl-dot-com · 3 months

Text

Chapter 26 - Texas Hold 'Em

The long awaited chapter is here! Thank you all so much for being patient with me!

Next on the schedule is Mexico and then I'm planning to do "Across Every Universe" pt. 2 because I have so many AU ideas that need to be written. The Brazil race is canceled due to a hurricane in my version of the 2024 - for plot purposes.

So get your cowboy hats on and yee-haw here we go!!

Everyone wasn’t surprised when you showed up in a particular outfit in Austin. The fans had been waiting for another themed outfit since you debuted in Vegas last year. So, they weren’t really in awe of what you were wearing.

What they were surprised to see was the whole grid in matching outfits.

Thee. Entire. Grid.

And yes, you had somehow wrangled everyone into matching beaver onesies from Bucees. How you convinced Max, Lewis, Kevin, Nico, Zhou, Valtteri, Pierre, and somehow Esteban as well? No one will ever know (there might have been bribes and threats, but they didn’t need to know that).

Along with the group was a familiar Monegasque, also in the same onesie. You laughed as you saw everyone stair at the massive group.

“This is amazing,” you giggled behind your hands.

To be honest, only a few were actually happy to be in the pajamas. (Lando, Daniel, Oscar, Logan, Alex, and Arthur.) The rest could have said no. But who wants to say no to you.

Photographers flashed their cameras every few seconds. Apparently, fall had actually come that October in Austin, so it wasn’t as hot as everyone thought. For a second, they were thankful to be wearing the long sleeves of the outfits.

Except when everyone made it back to their respected garages, they all tore them off. However, a couple of them kept them on. And that group was up for a larger media conference.

On the couch, the order was right to left: Lando, Oscar, Logan, you, Max, Daniel, and then Charles. All of you had yet to take the fuzzy clothes off.

The interviewer was a little shocked to see the reigning world champion in kids clothing. Yet, they took one look at your smiling face as you animatedly talked to Max, they knew exactly who he was doing this for.

The conference started, and the drivers put on their media faces, but it was hard to take them seriously when they were all dressed in the brown and bright red.

“So starting off, what’s the story behind the outfit choices today?”

All six drivers immediately looked to you, who sheepishly grinned.

“Yes, Y/n, why don’t you tell the story,” Max said in a teasing tone. You hit his shoulder before raising the mic.

“Well, it all started when most of the grid had said they hadn’t been to Bucees. And that is like the worst crime known to man. I mean, Daniel and Logan have been, but the others hadn’t.”

Charles raises his mic next. “So she gets the brilliant plan to text everyone at midnight about going to Bucees.”

You pulled an accused look. “Hey, everyone didn’t have to respond, but they did.”

Oscar pulled a face. “I was pretty much dragged.”

A gasp came from his right and left. Logan shook his head while Lando had his hand on his heart.

“Osc, I am devastated. You went by your own will. It was also for her birthday, you know this.”

The journalist piped up. “Happy birthday Y/n.”

You smiled sweetly at the man, “Thank you so much.”

Your head whipped to Lando, “Can I get back to the story?”

The males quieted.

“As I was saying, I texted everyone cause I was bored. Bucees is open all night so I knew it would be open. And we had the multi-passenger vans, so we could take everyone. I really thought that no one would show up.”

“Darl, you have little faith in me.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I knew you were coming, you texted me on the side. But when the meeting time came and everyone was down in the lobby, I wasn’t expecting it.”

The interviewer smirked. “Who drove? We saw that you had a little trouble after Singapore.”

You, Logan, Osar, and Lando all winced.

Logan brought his mic up. “Yeah. That one was one me. I didn’t know that roofless cars weren’t allowed in Singapore.”

Your finger shot up. “At least we weren’t really arrested. The officer was super nice.”

Lando smirked. “Yep. We got a warning and he let us off.”

Your hands clapped. “Anyway, Max drove one van and I think Lewis drove the other one?”

Max jerked his head to look at you, a smile on his face. “Yeah, don’t want you or George taking off again.”

The microphone picked up the sound of your hand hitting his shoulders.

“What did everyone think of Bucees?” a man from deeper in the crowd asked.

Charles brought his mic back up. “Best place on Earth.”

You watched as everyone climbed out of the vans and stopped to stare at the yellow and red sign. The big beaver was almost smiling down at you. You, Logan, and Daniel watched as the grid stared at the automatic doors and gingerly step inside.

“Welcome to Bucees!” an overly energized worker shouted. You looked around and were thankful that not many people were there.

You waved to get everyone’s attention.

“Ok boys, er, men, welcome to the best gas station on earth. You can find everything your little hearts’ desire so have at it.”

The group immediately shot out into different directions. You saw Lando and Oscar immediately head to the rows and rows of drinks they offered. You knew that the Brit would definitely get a slushy when he noticed.

A lot of the older drivers went to the home decoration sections. Lewis and Valtteri were definitely looking at all the cooking supplies.

Daniel looked down at you. “So ‘darl, where you wanting to go?”

You had noticed that Logan had broken away to probably visit the vast fishing supply section. There was a high possibility that he had dragged Alex as well.

Max, Charles, and Arthur were standing next to the coffee. You shuddered as you remembered as all of them drank it straight black. The opposite of what the creamers and flavors were supposed to do.

“You wanna get a drink and then walk around?”

You nodded eagerly before grabbing one of the giant cups. A few drivers watched as you and Daniel filled the styrofoam with Dr. Pepper, before going to the coffee station to add cream.

“What the hell did you just do?”

Your eyes widened as you looked at Pierre, Max, and Charles (who all had disgusted looks on their faces).

You held the big cup up as you swirled the liquid. “Dirty soda. It’s really good.”

Arthur already had his cup, the same way that you did, except his had Root Beer. You had taught him the ways during early 2023 when you two were teammates. The younger Monegasque rolled his eyes.

“Don’t look disgusted until you try it.”

Charles still looked at him strangely. “That will completely mess up our diets.”

Daniel’s hand clapped Charles’ shoulder.

“That’s the point Charles. Now get a cup and start concocting.”

You, Danny, and Arthur left them to their devices and confusion and headed for the beef jerky wall. Zhou was staring at all of the flavors with eyebrows pinched. You knew the look of a beef jerky lover with no clue which one to get. You quickly picked on up and handed it to him.

“The Korean one is my favorite. But the ghost pepper and garlic are a close second.”

The Romeo driver showed you a quick smile before he walked away. You grabbed the flavors that Daniel and Arthur had asked for, as well as two bags for you. Your head swerved as you tried to find the two men.

Your eyes widened as you heard Danny’s laugh, loud and clear above everything. Your feet quickly took you to the toy and clothing section. By the time you reached them, Daniel already had a onesie on.

“Great idea Danny,” you said as you gave everything over to your boyfriend, who had smartly grabbed a basket.

You were quick to put the pajamas on and pose with the Australian. The two of you fell into laughs as you tried to find Arthur’s size. By now, most of the grid came over to see what was going on. Lando’s eyes flashed with mischief as he tried to find ones in his and Oscar’s sizes.

You grabbed a few off of the hangers and handed them to the drivers you thought would want one. You watched as George and Alex put them on and laughed as you saw that the pant legs were too small and came up before their ankles.

Before you knew it, the entire grid was in once section. You and Arthur gave each other looks before dashing to Max and Charles, who immediately shook their heads.

Max gave you a stern look.

“No, I am not putting one on. End of st-”

Moments later, Max was brooding in a brown and red onesie. The twenty of you goofed around for almost three hours before Lewis suggested that it was time to leave. (He only said something when he noticed that you were dead asleep on Max’s back. And everyone knew that Max had the widest back so ergo, more comfortable for nappage.)

“So that’s it. And I thought it would be a good idea to come dressed in these.”

Charles began talking. “So again she sends a text at 5:30 am asking for everyone to wear the onesie.”

You gave him a playful glare. “Once again, you did not have to wear it.”

The Monegasque winked back at you (or tried to anyway).

“But I look good in it non?”

A scoff arose from Max.

“You look good in anything mate.”

You gasped as you looked at the cameras.

“Everyone heard it right? Lestappen is real!”

The rest of the group started to laugh loudly as Max and Charles blushed. You wiggled your eyebrows at the Dutchman, making him swat at you.

You grumbled as you were led away from the conference.

On Thursday, Arthur was glued to your side as you watched one of the F2 drivers use your car for free practice 1. You watched as he had his eyes sharp on the car, a sigh leaving his lips every so often.

You bumped his side.

“We can go to my room if you want to?”

Arthur didn’t even respond as he made a beeline for it. You quickly took your headphones off before following him. It didn’t take long for you to catch up and slide into the room as he closed the door.

The moment you turned around, Arthur had you pinned to the door, lips locked tightly. A small gasp left your lips as he pressed into your face. Your hands gripped the polo material and bunched it at his sides. You made quick work to stick your hands against his skin. He let out a small hiss at your cold fingers.

“Your hands are never warm are they?” he mumbled against your lips.

“Poor circulation,” you were able to mutter back before kissing him again.

His left hand had made its way into your hair, lightly gripping the roots. He gently guided your head to the side and decided to attack your neck.

You shook your head. “Marks. Please no marks.”

Arthur respected your request as he placed a gentle kiss before going back to your lips. His right hand had made its way under your shirt. It was slightly going up before a knock at the door made him jerk it away.

You sucked in a deep breath.

“Yes?”

“Kid, we’re needed in the garage,” Max’s voice sounded through the door. “Oh, and Charles is looking for Arthur, have you seen him?”

You wanted to snort at the irony. You patted you hair a bit before responding.

“I’ll let him know. Be out in a second.”

You and Arthur held your breath as you heard his footsteps start to grow quiet as he walked away.

Arthur smirked down at your flushed appearance, happy that he could make you as flustered as possible.

“I will see you later then?” you asked, placing one last kiss on his lips. “After Sunday the guys are wanting to try to go line dancing if possible to celebrate for my birthday.”

Arthur nodded excitedly as he stepped back, trying to straighten his shirt.

“You go first, and I’ll follow a bit after.”

The plan was a go as you snuck out of your room, looking around as you made your way to the open garage.

Once Arthur thought he was in the clear, he poked his head out. Not seeing anyone directly, he also snuck around the door. His head was turned around, not seeing the body in front of him. He collided into a firm chest before whipping his head forward.

He came face to face with Max. Arthur gulped as his hazel eyes met icy blue ones. Max just looked down at the scared 23-year-old. The Dutchman smirked before planning a hand on Arthur’s shoulders.

“Use protection please,” was all Max said before turning around and walking in the direction that you were headed.

Arthur glowed red at the statement before heading out. His face definitely matched the shade of his red Ferrari polo.

Back in the garage, your mouth was wide open as you looked at the leaderboard.

“How did a Williams get there?”

The blue “W” shone brightly in the P1 spot. “SAR” was right next to it.

Christian shook his head as he looked at his notebook.

“They got an upgrade from Mercedes and decided to use it for this race.”

Max also was boggled at the sight. You looked back at Christian, wanting to gulp with concern.

“How are we looking?”

The Brit sucked in a harsh breath. “Not the best. But we’ll get there.”

“Hey kid!”

Your head whipped around at the sound of Mitch yelling your name. As you were gawking over the Williams positions, you were completely oblivious to the entirety of the garage getting closer and closer. In her hands was a small-ish white cake. A small Lightning McQueen figure was on top. You let out a small gasp as Max quickly lit the candles that were shaped in a 2 and a 1.

Everyone soon began to sing a rendition of Happy Birthday. Toward the end of the verse, your eyes started to water. When the song ended, you lightly blew out the candles, earning several rounds of applause at something so miniscule to you.

Yet, this act of kindness really showed how much your team loved you. Christian tried to shove your face into the cake but he really underestimated how strong your neck really was. If anything, your head didn’t move much. You just gave him a stink eye as you glared at him.

Mitch gently set the cake in your hands as you just stared at it. The little candles illuminated the tears that were falling down.

You looked up at everyone. Some were holding their phones, taking photos. Many where mechanics that you really had no relation to.

You were able to croak out, “Thank you.”

The cake was split up and soon many were munching down on small slices. You were tucked between Max and Mitch as you ate your slice.

The Dutchman nudged you just a bit. “You seem quiet.”

You swallowed as you looked down at the cake. “I’ve never really had this. I’ve only ever celebrated my birthday a couple of times before. A few with Enzo and then with Arthur last year. My teams have never done this before.”

Max gave you a sad smile, silently noting to continue the tradition of getting a cake.

On Sunday, “Not the best” became an understatement.

You and Max had definitely done terribly in qualifying. You two made it out of Q2 by the skin of your teeth, all while Logan and Alex were happily in the top four. Q3 resulted in you and Max getting a respectable P4 and P7. The latter position making it difficult for the Dutchman to be happy with the weekend.

During the parade on Sunday, you were standing next to the two Williams drivers. You leaned over.

“So how did you switch out your cars for ours?”

Logan laughed loudly, currently on cloud-9 as he was on his maiden pole position. Alex was a little jealous but was happy for the blond, since the 2023 season was not very kind.

Alex decided to join in.

“While you two were sleeping, we snuck out here and just swapped. Logan is pretty good with spray paint.”

That had you laughing with your next stretched out and your head leaned back. Suddenly a hand was on your neck as you looked at the arm it was attached too. Oscar was looking at you with big round eyes while it was Lando who’s arm was at the junction of your shoulder and neck.

You gave the two papaya boys a weird look before Oscar leaned over.

“You have a little something on your neck.”

Your hand quickly clapped onto your neck over Lando’s hand. You flushed bright red.

“I told him no marks.”

Max, who had seen the entire thing, came over and handed you his pullover. You muttered a quick thank you before pulling the oversized thing on. You just hoped that no one else saw.

When you changed into your race suit, you stared at the red marks dotting your neck.

“Arthur Leclerc, I’m going to kill you,” you mentioned to no one in particular. For the Austin Grand Prix you had a Captain America styled helmet. The red, white, and blue shone around the garage as you got into your car.

You took a deep breath as you looked at the cars in front of you. Logan, Alex, and Oscar were all ahead. Lando, Charles, and Max were behind you. You felt a bit alienated from your teammate, who you normally were able to catch a bit of tunnel from on the way out to bold.

It kind of reminded you of Monza.

When it was lights out, you were quick on the throttle. You got the immediate jump on Oscar, putting you in P3 before the first turn.

However, Alex was really using his degree and the masters in defense. You were frustrated at the Williams driver, yet you were really impressed with how he held you off.

But, a slow pit stop for them and a fast one for you saw your Red Bull overtaking his easily. Yet, it seemed like the Brit had taken on a student.

One that goes by the name of Logan Hunter Sargeant.

You were so focused on your own race that before you knew it, you were over the line with the checkered flag waving freely.

You pressed your radio button as you taxied.

“Great race everyone. Congrats to Logan on his first win. Ah, I thought I had him in some places.”

Mitch on the radio knew you sounded a bit dejected. Since the Azerbaijan race had been canced before the Singapore grand prix, she knew you wanted another race win soon. She knew you were expecting to take the win from Monza and ride on that high for as long as possible. But with a hard podium in Singapore and a car that didn’t work well in Austin, she could see you getting annoyed.

“What was Max’s position?”

“P4. The team had a bit of trouble with his tyres. So that’s Sargeant P1, you P2, and Piastri P3.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“Good job for Oscar.”

You undid you steering wheel as you watched the American celebrate his win. The crowds seemed to roar for him as they did for you in Monza. You watched as he ran to his team, who welcomed him home with open arms.

Funny, he got his first points in Austin last year, and his first win this year.

Strange how the world worked.

On the podium, you watched as the crowds placed their hands over their hearts during the Star Spangled Banner. As expected, Logan was shedding a few tears. Oscar looked so happy for the blond. COTA finally brought back the cowboy hats with the numbers on them instead of the flat caps.

Your mind went back to the Lacy edits on Tik Tok.

Finally, Logan was no longer being compared to Oscar.

He could finally be himself.

You and the Aussie were quick to douse the American in sticky champagne. Logan just laughed as he got sprayed, giving in knowing that he wasn’t going to win against the two of you.

“Are we still going line dancing later tonight?” you asked him as the three of you stood for a picture.

“Aw hell yeah! Bring it on Texas! Yee-haw!”

You took the special cowboy hat off your head and tipped it to the crowd. The two boys doing the same.

Yee-haw indeed.

williamsracing has posted

williamsracing the man, the myth, the formula 1 race winner! I guess our pronouns are USA

liked by oscarpiastri, y/n.89, logan4president, and 803,193 others

logan4president RAAWWWW WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER

williamsduo Logan Sargeant win before GTA6

y/n.89 your Americanness is showing

logansargeant yes, and? y/n.89 do not quote ariana grande at me sir

y/n.nation the helmets today were peak >>>

logan2sarg I know right - the eagle on Logan's dannyric Daniel's hook'em horns one was immaculate

iamred_iamyellow so glad they brought back the cowboy hats for the podiums

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 it's a real life boogey and a real life hoedown

liked by arthur_leclerc, redbullracing, circuitoftheamericas, and 750,294 others

y/n.nation HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N!!!!

leclercbros dang, she finally taught Arthur and Charles how to wear cowboy boots

leclerc4ever she just taught them how to dress period

formula_fan does anyone know what went down tonight lol

box_box_express so they went to a local bar, y/n and Daniel taught everyone how to line dance, surprisingly Logan and Oscar are very good at it formula_gossip I was also there, Carlos and max got on the mechanical bull, most of the grid was there, and Fernando was playing darts in the corner with Lando

maxverstappen1 happy birthday kid

y/n.89 thanks maxie! even if you didn't let me get the drink I wanted maxverstappen1 I don't think a fireball is an appropriate drink for your first one y/n.89 right...my first drink...totally

beyonce now that is how you celebrate

f1 YEE HAW

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @fly-me-away @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @33-81 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

758 notes · View notes

monsterfuker3000 · 8 months

Text

Call Me ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡☏♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Jesus God, this took an embarrassingly long time. Not sure it’s my best work, most of this was written while I was stoned out of my mind, and when that happens I think with my pussy and not my brain, but I can guarantee this shit filthy. It’s not edited because I’m high again.

Warnings: NSFW, DUBCON, Ghostface!Dazai, fem!reader, p in v, intercourse, unprotected sex, (don’t do that,) creampie (don’t do that either,) uhh sub!reader, dom!dazai, there’s uhhh there’s knives, blood, brief mention of a cut, fake kidnapping, drugging(?) established relationship and use of traffic light system but when I say dubcon I mean dubcon. Look me in my eyeballs. Dubcon. Uhhh restraints? Idk it’s just a little bit depraved so don’t read it if you don’t want depraved. There’s aftercare though bc I’m allergic to not ending my fics on a soft note. Characterization in this is questionable at best. I love you mwah.

To @texas-bitch-yee @genshinsbiggestsimp @cupidszvlvr @dxzxii @vqmpwclf sorry this took so long 👉🏻👈🏻

WC: 4k words of Osamu Dazai lecherously taking you and you being lecherously taken ❤️

Leaves crunched under your feet as you ran, the cool fall air burning in your lungs. The ankle you’d twisted a few minutes previous was screaming at you, but only one thing was going through your mind.

Do.

Not.

Stop.

You knew he wasn’t far behind you, he never had been. Deep down, through all your attempts to lose the man you knew was trailing you, you knew damn well he was never more than a few minutes away. If you stopped now, he’d catch you for sure, and he had every intention of using that knife you’d seen glinting in his hand when he dumped you on the ground in this forest in the middle of nowhere and told you to run for your life.

You stumbled down a small hill, nearly losing your footing but staying upright by some miracle. You paused for just a moment to steady yourself, your heart rate spiking when you heard a branch snap in the distance. Whether it was the man you’d received a phone call from earlier in the night or some woodland creature, you weren’t sticking around to find out, and you took off again.

You’d been at home just an hour previous, curled up on the sofa of your living room as you waited for Dazai to come home. Your phone rang next to you; expecting your boyfriend, you answered without checking the caller ID, not seeing that it read ‘UNKNOWN CALLER’ at the top of the screen.

“Hello?” You chirped, expecting the gentle voice of your boyfriend Osamu on the other end.

“Do you want to play a game?” came the reply, the voice gravelly and unfamiliar. You frowned and checked the caller ID, just now seeing it wasn’t anyone in your contacts. Your blood ran cold for just a moment before you realized exactly what was going on, and you laughed.

“Osamu,” you giggled, “that’s the wrong movie, silly!” The person on the end seemed to falter for just a moment before gathering themselves and resuming conversation.

“Well, if you know so much about movies, belladonna, then tell me, what’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Scream,” you replied simply. “And, Osamu, you’re giving yourself away calling me belladonna like that,” you laughed. He grumbled something inaudible on the other end before you hung up, knowing this was all part of the game.

This had all been in the works for a couple of weeks now, beginning the night you’d popped the original Scream into the DVD player on a movie night with Osamu. He’d had his arm around you, so it wasn’t difficult for him to feel the way you tensed up a bit when the killer came on screen, nor was it hard for him to see the way your cheeks would turn pink when you heard his voice. An idea began forming in Dazai’s head, something dangerous that he knew both of you would like. He leaned in towards you, lips nearly brushing your ear as he whispered softly.

“My, my, belladonna, you seem to like what you see, hm?” he teased. Your cheeks reddened even more as you shrank in on yourself, declining to answer the question. “Well,” he continued, “what if I did something like that to you?”

You froze, then turned around to look at him, your eyes wide and unbelieving.

“Really?” you cautioned. He nodded, that signature smirk on his face telling you he was thinking devious thoughts.

“Really, sweet girl. Take you out to the woods where we can be all alone, let you go and hunt you down.” You shivered at his words, panties slicking up just at the thought. The two of you paused the movie and discussed in detail what expectations and boundaries you would have for each other, which is how you knew exactly what was happening when you received that call.

After you hung up the phone, it only took about five seconds for the phone to start ringing again, UNKNOWN CALLER scrolling across the screen a second time. You answered with a smile on your face, ready to mouth off again, but the voice on the other end beat you to it.

“You hang up on me again, I’ll gut you like a fish!”

You froze once again, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. You knew this was a line ripped directly from the movie, but the way it was said sent shivers down your spine. The voice on the other end was rough, sharp, nothing like the Osamu you knew. For the first time tonight, you felt a stab of cold, genuine fear. The voice continued.

“Now, belladonna, I’m somewhere in your house. Do you want to guess where?” he urged. Your eyes darted around the room, trying to gauge whether Dazai could hide behind anything in front of you. But you’d hear him, right? That meant he had to be somewhere else in the house, somewhere he could call you from and you wouldn’t hear him.

“Tick-tock, sweet girl,” the voice on the phone purred. “I’ll give you just one guess. If you get it right, I’ll let you go. If you get it wrong, however,” he laughed darkly, “well, belladonna, you should start running.”

Your heart rate quickened, your palms slicking with sweat. Where the hell could he be?

“You have until the count of three, sweet girl.”

The kitchen? No, too open.

“One.”

The bathroom? No, you’d just been in there a few minutes previous and it was empty.

“Two.”

The dining room? No, you’d hear him from there. Ah! You knew where he must be.

“Three.”

“The bedroom!” you cried, just as the final number left his mouth. Then, silence.

“Tsk-tsk, oh, belladonna,” he sighed. “I thought you’d be better at this. How disappointing.”

Your hands shook, your blood like ice in your veins. You knew you had to run, but where? You guessed wrong, you had no clue where he was. You were going to have to take your chances.

You dropped your phone and started running toward the front door, immediately regretting not holding on to it, but knowing that it wouldn’t help you anyway. Focused more on getting out than staying undetected, you ran clumsily out of the living room into the hallway leading to your front door, your socked feet slipping on the hardwood. The front door was only twenty feet away. Fifteen. Ten. Five. You reached the doorknob, fighting with your other hand to unlock the deadbolt. Then, out of the corner of your eye, a flash of black and white, a rag thrown over your nose and mouth, wet with a faintly sweet smelling substance, and then darkness.

You awoke on the ground in a dark, unfamiliar clearing surrounded by thick forest, your hands taped behind your back. The only light afforded to you was from the full moon and the headlights of the dark SUV you assume you arrived in.

A man stood in front of you, slender and tall, dressed all in black and holding a large hunting knife at his side that glinted in the moonlight. His face was concealed by the traditional Ghostface Halloween mask. How original. How perfect.

You noticed that he’d been kind enough to change you out of your pajamas and into thick pants and heavy boots. A genuinely kind gesture, one that reminded you that you could truly trust the man in front of you. You held on to this feeling, knowing this would be the only mercy afforded to you tonight.

The man knelt in front of you, lifting the corner of his mask to reveal that he was, in fact, the one and only Dazai Osamu. His expression was soft, almost concerned.

“Hey, give me a color, angel,” he urged.

You took a deep breath. “Green,” you answered. Dazai’s mouth curled into a smile, one that once again sent shivers down your spine, and he winked at you. He readjusted the mask, completely covering his face again, and stood.

“Little bunny,” he purred. “Whatever are you doing in the woods all alone, hm? He knelt once again as he lifted his knife to press the blade to your face, softly enough that it didn’t break skin, but hard enough so that you could feel just how sharp it really was.

“Do you know what happens to little bunnies all alone in the woods, sweet girl?” You shook your head, not trusting your voice. “Sometimes they encounter wolves.”

You could hear the smile in his voice, it twisted your stomach but shot straight to your core all the same. He used his other hand to pop the button and lower the zipper on your pants, sliding his hand into your panties to press two fingers to your pussy, gathering the slick there. He sighed deeply, shuddering at the feeling of just how wet this was all making you.

“Oh, little bunny, you look so scared but you feel so wet,” he moaned, withdrawing his fingers to slide them into your own mouth. You took the hint and began to lick them clean, moaning at the taste of your own slick. He was kind enough to button your pants back up before flipping you over onto your stomach, caging you in with his arms. He cut through the tape binding your hands, just barely nicking your arm in the process making you gasp. He bent down to whisper in your ear again.

“It’s time to run, little bunny.”

He lifted himself off of you enough for you to scramble out from under him onto your feet, elbowing him in the process. He held his side, hissing in pain. “That hurt, bunny. I’m going to give you a thirty second head start. You better run for your life,” he growled. You weren’t sticking around to find out how serious he was, so you turned tail and ran into the darkness.

Which is what landed you here, stumbling through the forest on a twisted ankle, covered in scrapes and cuts from running through branches you didn’t see until it was much too late.

You stumbled into another clearing, your heart racing. You let yourself feel a bit of relief before you noticed the SUV in the clearing with you. The same SUV you arrived in, and the same clearing you’ve been running from. Dazai had herded you in a circle.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, knowing he couldn’t be far behind you. You scanned the tree line all around you, finally spotting the glint of metal to your right. You gasped, finding yourself unable to scream, and whipped around in the other direction, trying to get away as fast as you could, but the heavy footfalls behind you came closer all the same.

Two arms shot out from behind you, one on each side to wrap around your body. He broke your fall a bit, but wrestled you to the ground all the same, pinning you flat on your back with his arms once again caging you in and a strong thigh pressing between your own.

You finally found your voice, screaming in fear as you tried to worm your way out from under him. You worked an arm free and swung it at him in an attempt to get him off of you, but you only succeeded in knocking off his mask. The face underneath was almost as scary as the mask itself, Dazai’s eyes sharp and his cruel smile much too wide.

He pulled a short length of rope from his pocket, recapturing your arm and tying your wrists together in front of you. You opened your mouth to scream once again but he clapped a large, gloved hand over your mouth before you could even make a sound.

“Little bunny,” he taunted. “Looks like I caught you, hm?” He brought his other hand to his belt where he’d tucked his knife, pulling it free and raising it to your face. He pressed it to your cheek, making a shallow cut there, barely enough to break the skin, sighing at the tiny trickle of blood gathering there before removing the knife as you whimpered beneath his hand.

“I’ll do that again if you don’t keep quiet, bunny,” he warned. “I’m gonna take my hand off of your mouth. Are you going to scream, or can you keep quiet?” He took your fervent nodding to mean that you agreed to keep quiet, and he removed his hand.

Instead of saying anything, you immediately spat in his face, causing him to rear back on his knees for just a moment to wipe it away.

“You’re really starting to get on my nerves, bunny,” he said, flicking the wetness away from his hand. “I think it’s time you learn a lesson.”

He moved again, quick as lightning, to use his knife to cut a sizable slit out of your pants, waistband to crotch, before ripping them in half the rest of the way to hang loosely below your knees. He ripped your panties off of your body in one clean motion, and you flinched when the cool night air met your soaked pussy.

You thought he might cut you again, whining in confusion when he flipped the knife into the air, catching it by the blade. That confusion ended quickly when you felt him press the blunt handle to your pussy. You struggled uselessly against your bindings, but between the rope around your hands and the man never letting go of one of your legs, you weren’t getting away.

“Ah-ah, bunny,” Dazai teased. “Spitting on me wasn’t very nice, you know. I think you know that you deserve to be punished.” His voice was low in his throat, jarring compared to the usual gentle whispers he afforded you when he fucked you.

You shook your head, hard enough to make yourself dizzy. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I promise I’ll behave- fuck!” Your pleading was cut off when Dazai pushed the knife handle into you in one clean thrust.

You cried out at the intrusion, fighting it instinctively even though it hurt in such a delicious way. Tears collected on your lashes as you tried to keep from showing him you actually liked this, but unfortunately Dazai knew your every tiny expression like the back of his hand.

“Oh, belladonna, you like it when I fuck you with my knife, don’t you?” He purred. You shook your head again with a whine, not trusting yourself with words at the moment. “Yes, I think you do, pretty. Come on, tell me you like the filthy things I’m doing to you. Tell me you love it.”

You cried out again, tears finally spilling from your eyes as you admitted, “love it, love it, love it,” chanting it like a mantra with every thrust of the handle.

He bent down towards you again to whisper against your ear. “I know, belladonna, I can hear how much you love it,” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck. Whether he meant your cries or the filthy, wet sounds he was drawing from your pussy, you didn’t know.

His words pushed you over the edge of a cliff you weren’t even fully aware you were standing on as you came on the handle, slicking it up along with your thighs and Dazai’s hand.

“Oh, what a good little bunny,” he praised, an edge of malice in his words. “Such a good girl, cumming on my knife like the dirty little thing you are,” he continued, pulling the handle out of you and admiring the way it now glistened with your slick in the moonlight. He stabbed it into the ground next to your head, confident he’d made you pliable enough to not struggle as he flipped you over onto your stomach, prone with your legs together between his own. You tried to push yourself up on your forearms, but a large hand square in the middle of your back kept you from even getting your hands under you with any efficiency.

“What are you-“ your question was cut off when he slid that same hand up to the back of your head, quick as anything to press your face into the mossy forest floor, muffling any protests.

“Shh, no talking, bunny,” he soothed. You whined, the sound still muffled by moss. He laughed, the motion driving his hips lightly into your ass where you felt his cock straining against his pants, and you were so tightly wound that such a small action made your hips buck just a fraction of an inch.

Dazai noticed your reaction, of course, driving his clothed hips into yours much harder this time, taking his hand off the back of your head and allowing you to cry out.

“Fuck, please!” you cried, not sure what you were even begging for, pushing your upper body up onto your still bound forearms, high enough to twist your head around and allow Dazai to see the tears still rolling down your face. His cock twitched in his pants at the sight, and he rolled his hips into yours again.

You whined again and his patience began to wear thin; you heard the clank of a belt and the rustling of fabric behind you and you jumped, squirming uselessly beneath him until you felt the head of his cock brushing against your ass and you froze again.

“Wait, wait!” you cried, hands scrabbling on the ground beneath you. He chuckled deep in his throat and used his legs to push yours even closer together, tipping your hips up to line his cock up to your entrance. He pushed it between your thighs, gathering the slick dripping down your legs before pushing it into your waiting pussy with a sigh, ignoring your pleas all the while.

He worked himself in, inch by torturous inch, the gentle way he reached up to pet your hair contrasting with the harsh way he drove his hips into you as you cried.

Halfway in, your eyes flew open, the stretch becoming too much.

“Wait! Not gonna fit, ‘s too big!” you slurred, fighting a bit harder to get away, still to no avail. “Too tight like this,” you whined. Dazai tangled his fingers into your hair, yanking you back so he could speak directly into your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck.

“Little bunny, you think it isn’t going to fit? You always take my cock so well, and now that this pretty little pussy is drooling down your legs, you think I can’t fit it in? You’ve never been this wet before, belladonna,” he murmured. “I’ll fucking make it fit.”

He snapped his hips into yours doubly hard now, sheathing himself completely with just a handful more thrusts that pulled a genuine wail from your throat, your mind screaming at you that the cock drilling into you was tearing you in half.

His pace was breakneck, his hips colliding with yours so hard they were driving you inch by inch across the forest floor, matting your tangled hair with leaves. You shifted your hips a bit, keeping him from hitting quite so deep. He didn’t take kindly to this, letting out a growl and letting go of your hair to reach out and yank the knife out of the ground next to you, holding it up to your neck and nicking the skin there, whether by accident or on purpose you weren’t sure. You whined as you felt a thin trickle of blood run down your throat.

“Keep those fucking hips where I put them,” Dazai growled. You whined at him to please, fuck, just slow down! and he finally relented, dropping the knife and switching instead to rolling his hips against yours, driving the tip of his cock directly into your g-spot and pressing his balls to your clit with each thrust.

The sharp pain slowly began to give way to pleasure as your cries gave way to moans, each sensation so overwhelming it caused your legs to shake. Dazai took hold of your hair once again, this time much gentler, the action causing a stir in your belly and already bringing you close to cumming.

“Fuck yes, little bunny. You like this, don’t you?” he teased. “You like it when I fuck you nasty,” he continued, punctuating his sentence with a particularly slow roll of his hips that drew a high-pitched cry from you, tears still rolling down your face. “You gonna cum, sweet girl?” he urged. “You gonna cum from me taking you from behind, on the ground like a fucking animal?” he urged.

Your eyes rolled back, your breath catching in your throat as your hips stuttered beneath him; Dazai knew you were close, you just needed one more little push.

“You want me to fill you up, bunny? Fuck yeah, I felt you squeeze me just now, of course you do. ‘M gonna fill that soaked little cunt up so full of my cum, leave it to leak out of you since you’re such a filthy girl.”

His final sentence and a well-timed thrust pushed you over the edge and you came hard, whole body shaking as you gushed around him. You soaked his legs as well as your own, the rest of your cum pattering on the leaves below you as you cried out his name.

He fucked you through your orgasm, the relentless clenching of your pussy bringing him closer to his own. Your arms finally gave out on you, your head dropping to the ground softly, but Dazai was kind enough to turn it to the side for you so that you could breathe.

“‘M close, belladonna,” he whispered.

“Osamu,” you whined, quickly becoming overstimulated, “I’m tired.”

“Shh, sweet girl, it’s okay. I’ll take care of you,” he soothed, placing an almost shockingly sweet kiss on your cheek, a sharp contrast from the way he’d just been treating you. His hips began to stutter, sloppy and almost clumsy, before you felt him shake above you, spilling his load into you as deep as he could get it.

Dazai shuddered as he came, his arms very nearly giving out, but he wasn’t through yet. He pulled out suddenly, the sudden friction on your already sore pussy making you’ll help. He clumsily pulled his phone out of his back pocket, readjusting to take a photo of his cum already spilling from your pussy, then another, a selfie with his fist tangled in your hair, yanking your head up next to his as he smiled at your completely fucked-out expression. Satisfied, he rolled away from you before he collapsed to avoid crushing you. Flipping onto his back, he pulled his jeans back up where they belonged before gathering you in his arms, resting your head on his chest and wiping away at your tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Such a good girl for me, honey,” he whispered, squeezing you tight. “Anything hurt?”

“A-ankle. . .” you whimpered, deciding the twisted appendage was your most immediate problem after your completely abused pussy.

He clicked his tongue teasingly, assuring you he had an ice pack in the car, along with a blanket. He stood, gathering you up in his arms before starting toward the car. The passenger door had been left open, so he placed you onto the seat, wrapping you in a blanket before wetting a rag from a water bottle, wiping away at the blood on your face and neck as you began to drift off.

“‘Samu?” you asked

“Yes, belladonna?”

“I love you,” you slurred. He laughed softly.

“I love you too.”

WEEEEEHOOOOO do u feel it? Cumming in the air tonight?

644 notes · View notes

foreingersgod · 1 month

Note

So so you wanted a small town reader request so I thought of this one. She she’s from a southern small town and plays basketball for the SEC team of her state, she really made a name for herself there, but wants to broaden her horizons so she enters the transfer portal and somehow ends up in Iowa where meet Kate who is OBSESSED with her southern accent. Then it’s just Kate trying to show her interest bc reader is totally oblivious until one of their teammates says something

Southern Charm . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: after transferring to iowa’s basketball team to broaden your horizons, you end up meeting someone who changes your life

A/N: i got a request to do another country fic like this one with kate, so expect one with ‘country kate’ here soon!

also, i’m not very proud of this one so i’m sorry if it’s genuinely shitty lol :’)

NOT PROOF READ

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

ever since you were little, maybe 7 or 8, you were fascinated with basketball. growing up in texas you were exposed to a large following of sports and hard core fans. your family was always repping the pro and college teams of your state with pride, attending several games throughout your childhood. basketball in particular held a special place in your heart. you remember watching the university of texas’ basketball games with your dad, absolutely enthralled by the game. it didn’t take long for your parents to get you involved in the sport. you played in small teams as a kid then on your schools girls basketball teams in middle and high school. and with a lot of hard work and determination, you got into the university of texas to play on their women’s team.

while playing for the university, you made quite the impression on basketball fans. you were quick, had unbelievable stats, and extremely adaptable. you were a pretty valuable player in most eyes. but after two years at the school, you started to feel restricted. there wasn’t a whole lot for you to improve on your skills so you made a drastic decision to enter the transfer portal.

it was an emotional decision. realizing you would be leaving teammates behind as well as your home state was hard, but you longed for something greater. not long after entering the portal, you had transferred to the university of Iowa. you were ecstatic despite having to move away. it was time to broaden your horizons and hopefully expand upon your skill set.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

you had arrived in iowa around a week ago and you were still adjusting. figuring out where all of the buildings were, where the dining halls were located, was a lot for you to handle. hell you could barely remember how to get to your dorm at this point.

you haven’t even met your new teammates, practices not starting up for a couple of days. the anticipation had you extremely nervous.

what if they didn’t like you?

what if they thought you sucked?

the days leading up to your first practice were consumed with these uncontrollable thoughts. but as you laced up your shoes and grabbed your duffel bag, heading out the door, you felt those nagging thoughts dissipate.

when you arrived for practice, opening the large metal doors to the gym, it almost felt like you were right back at home. you wandered over to where the team was warming up, hearing the squeak of the polished floors. quickly, looking up from her clipboard, bluder spotted you a few feet ahead. she met you on the sidelines to officially greet you for your first day.

“ah, YN!” she announced, grabbing the attention of the other girls “nice to see you again, glad you could join us. let’s get you introduced and settled in”

her smile was welcoming as she motioned for the girls to huddle up. everyone gathered around, you being the center of attention as you looked around awkwardly.

“team, i’m sure you’re all aware of our newest member, YN” lisa said “let’s be kind and supportive and help her get settled in on her first day alight?”

everyone nodded “great. YN, would you like to introduce yourself?”

you took a deep breathe as you studied their faces timidly, fidgeting with your fingers and trying to think of something to say.

“um, yea” you managed, hoping you sounded confident “i’m YN, i just transferred from the university of texas..and i’m-uh-really excited to get to know you guys”

the team offered their hello’s, walking up to you one by one to shake your hand politely and introduce themselves. they were all incredibly sweet right away, telling you you’d fit right in and complimenting your skills. you went down the line, excited to get acquitted with the team.

then, at the end of the line, stood kate martin. you had seen her play and you thought she was amazing so you were excited to finally meet her. she approached you with the most genuine smile, eyes lit with zeal.

“hey,” she spoke up, offering her hand to you “i’m kate, it’s nice to meet you YN”

you smiled back at her “it’s nice to meet you too! you’re a fantastic player, i’d be lyin’ if i said i hadn’t been excited to meet you!”

“i’m flattered, really, thank you” you could feel her hand linger on yours as she pulled away from the handshake “so texas, huh? i caught onto the accent!”

you both laughed “yea, i’m from a small town not too far from campus, so i got that signature dialect”

“i think it’s really cute,” she looked down, avoiding your gaze “think it suits you”

“thanks, kate” you blushed, smiling at her once more before bluder summoned everyone to resume warmups.

what a sweetheart.

˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗

it had been quite sometime since you had finally settled into your new team. there was a lot of awkwardness and uncertainty, but you had started to feel like this is where you were meant to be. and like you had hoped, there was so much more room for you to improve rather than back in texas. you were playing amazing games, beating your own records and personal highs on a regular basis. going to iowa was truly the best thing for your career.

you had also grown really close to the girls since arriving. kate, especially, was like your best friend. she had always been so kind and sweet to you. at some point in your friendship, you started to develop a decent crush on the girl, but you had always assumed that she didn’t feel that way about you. so you stayed quiet as to not distrust your connection.

but recently, things have been a little off with kate. she often avoided you during practices and didn’t stay to say goodbye when you left. both things she did on a normal basis and now she just stopped doing it all together. she didn’t even bother to text you or ask about your day, nor did she laugh when you said things funny (she’s always giggled to herself when your accent was thick). you were beginning to wonder if you did something wrong.

it had been weeks of her dismissive behavior and you were starting to miss your best friend. your heart ached at the thought of her not liking you anymore. so you devised a plan to meet her during her extra early practice one morning and confront her, hoping to figure out why she wasn’t giving you the time of day.

it was about 7:00 in the morning, much too early for your liking. you’d never understood why kate, amongst others, wanted to be at practice an hour earlier. but you had managed to get out of bed at 6, suiting up and sneakily heading to the gym. you hoped you could catch her off guard, maybe surprise her so she’d have no choice but to deal with your confrontation head on. you were approaching the doors of the locker room, about to open the door, when you heard kate’s voice echo from inside. freezing in your spot, you shamefully eavesdropped to see what she was talking about.

“no! i’m not going to do that!” she exclaimed.

“why not?” you heard another voice, from the sounds of it, it must’ve been gabbie. “you’re like obsessed with her, just go for it!”

“i’m not obsessed, ok? there’s just something about YN that drives me crazy and i like her so so much, but i’m sure as hell not going say that right to her face!”

you went numb hearing your name fall from kate’s mouth. you tried to move closer to the door, wanting to hear what she was saying a little bit better, but you tripped over your own foot causing you to lunge forward. the doors to the locker on went flying open, your stiff figure busting through the entrance as you immediately gave yourself away.

you stood, completely unable to move as you looking up into the vastness of the locker room. sure enough, there were gabbie and kate, sitting in front of you. their eyes were wide seeing you burst through those doors, realizing they had just been caught talking about you. and it was no secret that you had heard almost everything they were saying.

“i’m so sorry!” you rambled an apology “i was just about to come and talk to kate, but then i heard my name, and i really didn’t mean to intrude like this i’m so embarrassed”

kate sat, also embarrassed as gabbie spoke up.

“i’m going to give you guys some privacy” she said “i think there’s a lot that kate needs to say”

and with that, she walked out of the locker room, leaving you and kate in awkward silence. you walked over to where she sat on the bench to take the seat next to her. she looked at you, hardly able to make eye contact.

“i’m sorry”

“for what?” you asked

“i shouldn’t have been talking about you behind your back. i had no idea you were gonna be here, not that that makes it ok-”

“kate, it’s ok” you placed a hand on her shoulder “i was here early cause i needed to talk to you, but i shouldn’t have stuck around to eaves drop”

“what did you need to talk to me about?”

you sighed, suddenly wishing you didn’t have to bring it up in the first place “it’s just that i’ve felt like you’ve been avoiding me and purposely not talking to me so i wanted to ask why…but i think i already kind of know why…”

“yea” she replied, voice cracking “you weren’t supposed to find out like that”

“if it’s any consolation…i feel the same way” you removed your hand from her shoulder, taking her hand in yours. gentle fingers ran over hers soothingly.

“you-you do?”

“mhm” you grinned “i’ve been too afraid to say anything cause i didn’t know if you felt the same and i didn’t want to ruin our friendship”

she didn’t say anything, just sat looking into your eyes. there were no tears, no anger in her eyes, just a certain longing that only you could recognize.

“i think im in love with you”

“you don’t have to say-”

“no i mean it” she continued “everything about you, from the moment i met you, i’ve been in love with. you’re perfect and funny and gentle, you have the cutest accent i’ve ever heard, and i don’t think i can handle being just friends”

“kate i think i’m in love with you too” happy tears welled in your eyes as you inched closer to her, feeling her breathe on your skin.

“can i kiss you?” she asked, but she didn’t even need to, you would’ve done it anyways.

“please”

and finally, your lips met in the most gentle yet passionate kiss. teeth clashing at the urgency of it, both of you so eager from waiting so long for this moment. you wished you could’ve stayed like that forever. nonetheless, she pulled away breathlessly, forehead resting against yours as you smiled at each other.

“it’s that southern charm” she joked, large hand resting against your cheek “you’re irresistible”

you laughed, pulling her into another kiss, trying to savor this moment for as long as you could.

#kate martin #kate martin x reader #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #foreingersgod

217 notes · View notes

wheresarizona · 1 year

Text

Priorities

summary: When you left that morning, Javier looked so innocent tucked away in bed, passed out from working late the night before. Returning home, you’re not expecting the not-so-innocent sounds of him jerking off, and with the way he’s groaning your name, it’s to thoughts of you.

rating: E (18+!! This is smut. Established relationship, accidental voyeurism, mutual masturbation, masturbation (m & f), vibrator, vaginal fingering, dirty talk (he’s helping you get off), praise kink, panty sniffing, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), Javier being a bit needy, some feelings as a treat)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 1.8k+

a/n: Can be read as a standalone or part of the Learning to Live ‘verse (it’s canon). This was requested by the lovely @theorganasolo . Thank you, bestie. 😘 Shoutout to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are very appreciated!

Comments are answered from my side blog, @wheresarizona-writes

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

The thing about living in southern Texas is that it’s warm the majority of the year, excruciatingly hot in summer, and come winter, you’re going to need a jacket.

For a Saturday in spring, the weather is nice and mild—not too hot, not too cold, leaving that morning in a pair of leggings, your jean jacket, and Javier snug under the blankets, passed out.

He’d come to bed late the night before, too busy spending hours sitting on the couch with files strewn all over the coffee table in a chaotic mess that didn’t seem to bother him, his reading glasses on, poring over the words on the pages with a furrow in his brow.

You’re not quite sure what’s going on at his job in the Sheriff’s office, but you can tell something is consuming him; he’s so focused, bringing work home with him for the past week, and you’ve only had sex a couple of times—well below average which is frustrating because he’s spoiled you so much with orgasms on the regular, that you’re needy and aching.

He knew you were going to breakfast with your friend, but you’d left him a note on your pillow as a reminder.

It’s been a couple of hours when you return home, sliding off your shoes by the front door, hanging up your jacket, and setting your purse on the console table in the entryway, your keys going in the large bowl where Javi’s were nestled on top of his wallet.

You’re quiet in case he’s still sleeping, stopping in your tracks when you hear a gentle groan slip through the crack in the bedroom door on your way to the kitchen. Your eyes go wide because it isn’t one of Javi’s back-aching-pain-groans; no, this was the sexier kind when he’s feeling really fucking good.

It happens again, your feet taking you closer to the door, hearing him say in a rough shuddering plea, “Cielito,” and your body heats, arousal curling in your gut, now able to make out the rhythmic wet sound of skin gliding along skin, interspersed with grunts, and muffled Cielitos.

Javi is jerking off to thoughts of you, and if it isn’t the most sexily romantic thing in the entire goddamn world.

You’re wet, your pussy throbbing in tune with your pounding heart, and it’s really doing it for you thinking about him getting himself off, knowing he wouldn’t mind you watching.

A very tortured groan of your name sounds, and it has such a razor-sharp spike of arousal cutting through you, you have to stifle a moan.

You need to see him, can’t wait any longer, pushing open the door, the large bed directly across from it, the bedding bunched at the end like he'd kicked it down.

His back is cushioned by pillows against the headboard, sitting up on your side of the bed, all of his golden skin on display—his legs are slightly spread, a big hand wetly stroking his thick cock, the other pressing what looks to be the panties you wore the previous day to his nose. You take him in, the sheen of sweat glistening on his chest and forehead, the beautiful flush climbing up his gorgeous neck, the gold band on his ring finger glinting in the light as his hand moves up and down.

Fuck, he’s a sight to behold, your heart hammering in your chest.

Heavy-lidded eyes meet yours, his rolling back in his head with a rumbling groan, his dick jerking. He tosses your underwear, stopping his ministrations while he breathes heavily, looking at you with lust-filled eyes, his voice rough as he speaks, “I fucking need you, baby.”

You suck in a breath, cunt clenching hard around nothing. There’s lube on the bedside table next to him, spotting a couple of the nude polaroids he’s taken of you and a small towel.

“You look like you’re doing a great job on your own,” you reply.

He’s squeezing the base of his cock to calm himself down, his throat working as he swallows hard.

“I want you.”

It sends a thrill through you. His dick is so hard the tip’s an angry red, precum steadily leaking from it.

You smile.

“Yeah? What’s got you so worked up?”

“Sex dream—fucking your ass, woke up horny, and you weren’t here.” His tongue quickly peeks between his lips. “Wanna fuck? Please?” He’s looking at you with rounded, hopeful eyes.

You step closer to the bed.

“I want to see you make yourself come.”

He frowns, the wheels turning in his head.

“Take off your clothes,” he rasps. “Get in here with me. I’ll fuck my hand if you play with your pretty pussy next to me, and we get off together.”

Your eyes dilate, your blood searing in your veins.

“Sold,” you reply, pulling off your shirt and letting it fall to the ground, your hands moving to unhook your bra. “I’m so fucking horny.”

His eyebrows crease, noticing your eagerness.

“Shit,” he whispers, realization dawning on him. “We haven’t fucked—”

“In three days,” you finish for him, shimmying out of your leggings and panties, kicking them off, and removing your socks. “You’ve been busy with work, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

His face pinches.

“Bother me? You’d never bother me. I love you. You’re my wife. Fuck, you’re so fucking wet it's dripping down your thighs.” He looks at you with pleading eyes. “Baby, let me make it up to you and really fuck you.”

You get onto the bed, your hands and knees sinking into the mattress as you crawl toward him.

“Nope,” you reply, getting between his legs. “I’m watching you jack off while I finger myself, and then you can fuck me.” Kissing him when you’re in his space, Javi moans into your mouth, the hand not touching his dick, cradling your jaw, loving the warmth of his broad palm on your face.

“We’re not leaving the bed all fucking weekend,” he murmurs into your lips.

“Thank god.”

He breaks the kiss looking you in the eyes, his dark with want.

“Use your vibrator—I’m not gonna last. Want you to come quick so I can eat your pussy.”

“Okay.” You nod, a shiver running through you at the thought of his mouth on you, reaching over him to get into the bedside table, pulling open the drawer, and taking out the small bullet vibe. Quickly kissing him, you shuffle to get over his leg to sit down beside him on his left side, Javi scooting closer so your bodies touch, feeling his warm skin against yours.

His head turns toward you, his hand grabbing your right leg to set it up over his knee, your other bent to spread yourself open.

He reaches across his body to palm your breast, his other slowly stroking himself, hearing the wet glide of his hand.

“Turn it on, baby,” he husks, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers, making you gasp at the pleasure jolting to your center. “Want you to touch yourself.”

There’s a dull ache between your legs, the vibrator humming softly when you click it on.

“Put it on your clit,” he says.

Doing as he says, your eyes squeeze shut at the thrumming pulse that ignites sparks in your belly.

“That’s it, Cielito.” His voice has gone deeper, lower, his hand moving faster on his cock, pinching and teasing your stiff peak. “Rub it side to side—play with yourself.”

The gentle buzz, along with the motions, has sharp heat filling your core, feeling it spread up to your nipples, tightening them, soft sounds spilling from your lips. You look over to watch him working his cock, his hand twisting on the upstroke in practiced motions, it shiny from lube and precum.

“Feels so fucking good,” you moan.

Your orgasm is already making itself known, growing at the base of your spine, Javi breathing harder, low grunts coming from his throat.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” He presses his nose to your neck, breathing you in. “Can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” he groans. “Wanna taste you, feel you come on my tongue.” You see his dick twitch, precum dribbling from the tip. “Fuck, you taste so fucking good. Gonna eat your pretty little pussy until your legs are shaking.”

“God, Javi,” you gasp.

You’re getting closer and closer, the fire building and expanding in your center.

“Then I’m gonna fuck you,” he continues. The strokes of his hand getting wetter, moving quicker, hearing the slick slide. “Bury myself inside you, stretch open that tight little cunt. Start out slow, get you to beg me to go faster.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. “I know what you want, Cielito—you’ll want me to put you on your knees, fuck you hard and fast into the mattress to make sure you feel me tomorrow.”

You’re almost there. The end is in sight, you just need…

“Fingers,” you practically beg. “Need your fingers.”

“I’ve got you, baby.”

His hand moves from your breast to between your legs, pressing one thick finger into your soaked hole, moving in smoothly from your slickness, quickly pushing in another, moaning at the slight stretch and how he fills you, easing the ache.

You’re so close, his digits pumping in and out of you, arousal dripping out and around them, the muscles in your tummy tightening.

“I know you’re almost there,” he rasps. “You gonna come for me?”

An inferno is raging in your belly, your body clenching up, building higher and higher until you’re coming with a cry of his name, euphoria washing through your veins.

“That’s my good girl, fuck—“ a strangled groan comes from him, his body stiffening beside you, watching him fall over the edge, ropes of his come spurting onto his stomach and over his hand.

You’re both panting, Javi nuzzling his face against your cheek, turning off the vibrator and letting it fall onto the bed.

“Feel better?” you ask after catching your breath a minute later.

“Mmm, yeah,” he replies dreamily, moving his head to kiss your lips. “I’ll feel even better when I get my face between your thighs.”

“You need to eat breakfast,” you giggle, pulling away.

“I need to eat your pussy.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

He turns the other way to grab the towel from the table, going about wiping himself clean.

“I’m not ridiculous,” he says.

“Uh huh,” you reply, not sounding convinced.

He drops the towel onto the floor, the bed jostling as Javi moves, letting out a back-aching-pain-groan as he gets himself settled on his stomach between your legs—his hands keeping your thighs spread, resting his chin on your mons, looking up at you with big eyes.

“I’m your husband.”

You smile.

“Yes, you are,” you agree, stroking your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “My insatiable husband.”

He smiles. “You’re my insatiable wife, who only needs to ask, and she can have my dick anytime she wants.”

Your eyebrow rises.

“Promise?”

There’s a smirk under his perfectly trimmed mustache.

“Oh, yeah,” he answers. “Getting my dick wet takes precedence over work—You take precedence—Always, Cielito.”

“Nice save.” You grin.

“I love you.”

And from the look on his face, you know it’s true, making you go all gooey.

“I love you, too.” Watching as he happily buries his face in your pussy.

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @nicolethered @lola766 @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans s @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin @themarcusmoreno @woomen23 @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @hansolosleftbuttcheek @deadhumourist

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña/reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

1K notes · View notes

amomentsescape · 5 months

Note

The shirt headcannon was great, but what if the slashers had matching shirts with their S/O reader? Also if ya in one of the snowy storm states stay safe! ❄ 🧊 ⛸

Slashers React to Couple's T-Shirts

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

Feat. Freddy, Michael, Jason, Thomas, Bubba, Brahms, Norman, Billy, & Stu

You can find the OG T-Shirt request here.

A/N: Such a cute request! And yes, those dealing with the crazy weather, please stay safe! (Also, I couldn't find a better GIF option so I just went with the same one again)

Freddy Krueger

Yep, he wears it over his sweater

Can you expect anything less from Freddy though?

He really enjoys matching with you

He even let out some chuckles when you showed them to him for the first time

"I'm gonna need to make myself a closet if you keep up with this"

He definitely finds the shirts a tad bit cheesy, but he's not complaining

He happily wears the shirt with pride

He becomes a bit upset if you show up not wearing it though

Michael Myers

What even is this?

The first shirt was already bad enough, but this?

He doesn't even like cats

Just gives you a deadpan look

Will let you put yours on, but absolutely refuses to wear his

Barely even wants to touch it to be honest

You quite literally have to force it over his head

And even then, he just complains the whole time

Embrace the moment while you have it, because there's absolutely no way you're going to get that shirt on him again

Jason Voorhees

He smiles wide at these

One of the things he loves is the size difference between you two

It makes him feel like a protector

So you gifting him MATCHING shirts just makes him feel all giddy inside

The fact that they point out the size difference is a plus

He arguably likes this one more than the last (since he actually understands what it means)

He only wears the shirt when you wear yours though

If your washing it or don't have it on, don't expect Jason to be wearing his

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas absolutely fell in love with Beauty and the Beast when you first showed it to him

He didn't think he'd ever find someone like you, but here you were, and that made him relate to the Beast quite a bit

So when you showed him these, he was ecstatic

Immediately puts it on and refuses to take it off for a couple days

Even in the blistering heat of Texas, he wears it

Will always give you a hug when he sees you wearing yours

By the end of the week however, his shirt is noticeably much dirtier than yours

They barely match anymore, but the meaning is still there

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is all giddy when he sees these

He just thinks the dinosaurs are absolutely adorable

And he honestly gets the joke pretty quickly!

Will insist you both put them on at the exact same time, doing a little spin for each other

He's clapping his hands and bouncing up and down

Will become pretty protective of the garment though

If anyone besides you gets a little too close to him, he puts his arms out as if saying "don't touch the shirt"

He truly finds the shirts a symbol of your relationship, so if any stain or tear occurs, he will literally have a meltdown

Brahms Heelshire

He doesn't find them as funny as you do

But he likes the idea of you matching together, so he allows it

Will try to put your shirt on instead in hopes you don't notice

You do

He thinks you look cute, but he won't admit it

He's still mad that you think you're the boss

I mean, who makes the literal rules around here??

But the moment you baby him and tell him just how good the shirt looks on him, he gives in and accepts his fate

He does wear the cardigan over it, however

Norman Bates

You know Norman isn't one for loud garments

So you thought something simplistic and meaningful would be the best bet

When he first sees the shirts, he smiles and says they look extra comfy for you two

But when he sees your anniversary on the sleeves, he melts

Thinks it's super romantic and gives you a sweet kiss as a thank you

He wears the shirt all the time

Under his button ups, going to bed, lounging around

And you can tell he becomes extra happy when you have yours on too

It's just like having a cute reminder of your love for each other

And Norman is all about that

Billy Loomis

Billy had been talking about getting a new sweatshirt for forever now

So when you came across these, you knew you had to get them

Billy isn't usually one for cheesy things, but he can't stop the small smile that forms on his face

"You're a lifesaver, babe"

Will try it on and practically melt into it

Doesn't specifically ask, but he'll give you a look basically telling you to put yours on too

When he sees you both matching, he can't even lie that he likes it

Will snuggle up with you and thank you

Stu Macher

Stu immediately lets out a big laugh when he sees them

His amusement is quickly deflated when he fully reads the shirts

"Hey!"

You know he's just joking though, since he still has that huge grin on his face

"You're clearly the stupid one, right?"

You just give him a joking slap to the arm

Will make you put yours on with him and pulls out his camera

Takes a million pictures with you and the shirts, finding them hilarious

He definitely insists on wearing them in public since it makes it even more obvious that you're his

He just doesn't want to wear them around Billy

He'll make fun of him

350 notes · View notes

cowgurrrl · 7 days

Text

Strangers

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader (cowgirl!reader???)

Author’s note: goddammit is this gonna be a thing

Summary: Javi struggles to assimilate back into civilian life in Texas until an old friend returns [1.5k]

Warnings: Texas Javi my beloved, language, addictive tendencies, PTSD symptoms, Javi + Steve 4eva, reader has a brother, southernisms, pining, yeah there’s probably gonna be a part two 🙄

Javi really did try his best to leave Colombia and the ghosts that pricked at his memory every time he turned a familiar corner. He wanted to do better. He felt he had to. Too many people died for him to just throw away his chance at life, but the days were long and hot, and he was so fucking tired. The nicotine patches stopped working, and the bottle suddenly wasn't enough to convince himself he was doing what he was sent to do. That he was doing the right thing. That he was a good person.

He expected the feeling to leave him once he left the imaginary borders of Colombia and returned to the northern valley. He thought working with his dad and getting his feet back under him after years of being pushed and pulled at Reagan's whim would feel better than shaking down teenagers for narco information. Of course, it didn't disappear in the cacti and hazy horizons of Loredo or the arms of his father. It's only been a couple of hours, Peña, he thought. Give it some time. Who knows? Blistering Texas sunsets might be good for burning the blood off his hands.

Except everybody in his small town knew of his exploits in Latin America. They knew his name was plastered to boxes full of evidence against the cartel and then some. They knew Chucho's boy was some kind of fucked up veteran or hero or whatever they wanted to call him. He avoided going into town more than necessary when he first got home because of how often he got stopped. It didn't matter if he was going to the hardware store, HEB, or the mechanic. Somebody ended up talking to him about Escobar or Cali. He couldn't escape his past even thousands of miles away from it. The only good thing about his newfound fame was the free drinks people pushed his way in the shit hole bar just on the outskirts of town.

He tells himself to slow down, what with the early mornings and long days he's working, but it'd be a dick move to turn down free drinks, right? Sometimes, Javi loses hours in the bar, betting money on pool, flirting with women passing through town, and telling war stories of the jungle and sicarios and whatever else comes spilling out of his loose lips. He tells himself he's coping the best way he knows how when he comes down for breakfast looking and feeling like shit, his hair practically wet from lingering cigarette smoke, but he knows better.

His dad deals with Javi's vices the same way they dealt with his mother's death: inefficiently and without making a sound. The most Chucho does is shake his head and sigh when Javi comes stumbling in at some ungodly hour. What more could he do? Javi barely told his dad where he was in the world. How was he supposed to tell him what he'd done? What he saw? What he allowed? No, his dad can never know. It'll kill him. It'll kill Javi to retell.

Sometimes, Javi will call Steve and ask about Connie and the kids, and they'll act like they're old school buddies and not tethered together through tragedy and white powder. Steve will ask him about his sleep, and Javi will give some bullshit answer which makes Steve laugh. "Yeah, me too," he says one time. "Woke the baby up the other night 'cause I was talkin' again. Don't even know what about. Isn't that fun?" Javi doesn't give much away. He never does, but sometimes, it's just nice to know he's not alone in his struggle to get back to normal.

Javi is back in town for a full forty days before he finally stumbles across you. At first, he doesn't remember you or your first name. Your last name, however, rattles around his skull until he finally gets the courage to ask if he knows you as he stands in line at the store. "You look familiar." He says, making you laugh.

"I'd hope so. You were practically livin' in my house in high school." You say, throwing him back to his high school baseball days, spending time either in the field or on the ranch with your older brother. You were a little bit younger than him— the daughter of a weathered cattle rancher— and only caught his attention when you were in the way or being an obnoxious teenager. Man, did you grow up pretty, he thinks. Suddenly, he's hyperaware of his sweaty hair, rumpled shirt, and god-awful farmer's tan.

"Last I heard, you'd moved out of town," Javi says, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing you carefully. The freckles dotting your face from all your time in the sun should be considered lethal, especially when you smile.

"Last I heard, you were engaged." Just as you did then, you don't hold your punches. The jab doesn't hurt, but it does make him laugh, an embarrassed blush crawling up his neck.

"Alright, you got me there," he says. "How's your brother?"

"Good. Married Suzanna a few years ago, and now they've got some babies running around."

"They live around here?"

"Dallas," you say. "Dillon thinks he's too good for us and decided to be a real estate agent out there instead."

"Sounds riveting," Javi says and you laugh. The line gets shorter and shorter as you talk, but he can't focus on anything but you. "And you? What's a pretty girl like you still doing in this shit hole?" Something behind your eyes flickers at the comment and you take a deep breath, suddenly all too aware of how hot it is today.

"Somebody's gotta get Daddy off the horse every once in a while."

"And what? Your mama can't do that for you?"

"She knows better than to keep tryin'. I'm just as stubborn as he is, so one of us'll win or give up before the other."

"Well, my money's on you." He says easily. You stare at each other for a little bit longer than necessary before the clerk calls you by name to get your attention. Your items are scanned, bagged, and paid for all in the span of a few seconds. You have no reason to linger in the checkout aisle, but you do, rocking on your boots' heels just a little.

"Don't be a stranger, Peña." You say, looking him over as if you're seeing him for the first time.

"I don't think this town's big enough for that." He says, and you chuckle.

"No, I don't think so either," you say. "Tell your dad I said hi." With all your Southern hospitality, you turn and leave. Javi watches you go until the clerk calls his name and breaks him out of it. Well, that and the sound of something crashing to the floor makes him reach for a gun he doesn't carry anymore. His shoulders brace for an explosion, and he can't catch his breath. He stares at the box and the broken jars in it as a pissed-off employee storms off to find a broom. He scoffs.

Javi has dealt with some of the most dangerous people in the world, and jams are what spike his adrenaline.

He tries to shrug it off and pay the cashier, but his ears are still ringing, and his heart is still racing when he climbs back into his truck. Fucking jam. He tries to forget about it as he drives home. He wants to forget about it. He wants to think of anything else.

If that happens to be your smile, the way your laugh fills the air, or the inconspicuous way you looked at him when he complimented you, it's just a coincidence.

When he gets home, he's craving a drink or a cigarette or something more physical to get his mind off of what happened. His shoulders slump with the weight of memory and Chucho sees. He always sees. He just doesn't know the right way to fix it.

"Y'know, uh… your friend you used to play baseball with?" He asks, seemingly out of nowhere, as Javi puts away the groceries. He furrows his brows and gives his dad a confused look.

"I had lots of friends I played baseball with."

"He was datin' that girl you went to Homecoming with when you were a freshman?" Of all the things his dad remembers, of course, it's that. Javi resists the urge to roll his eyes and grinds his teeth instead.

"Suzanna?" He asks and Chucho snaps his fingers in a way that tells him that was the right answer. "His name was Dillion. What about him?"

"Well, his dad heard you're back in town and invited us over for a barbecue," he says nonchalantly and Javi scoffs. "I'm not sure how he didn't know, but you know that old fucker's always out doin' something. Somebody probably told him something or the other. Anyway, you can say no. I told him you were still adjustin'."

"I'll go," Javi agrees too fast. "Might be good to… get outta the house. Wouldn't wanna be a stranger." Chucho is surprised but not displeased with Javi's answer, and they leave it as is.

It's just reintegrating into civilian life. It's just socializing. It's just a barbecue. It's not an interrogation or a raid. It's coping.

Apparently, coping could be really fun if he plays his cards right.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @space-zaddy-din-djarin @rainy-darling @its-me-mila @mnn11ankamaaka

129 notes · View notes

psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝐇𝐈, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 8k

chapter summary: Joel takes you on your first date. A barbecue meant to be fun becomes a minefield of unpleasant memories for Tommy.

warnings: mutual masturbation, piv, dirty talking, light spit play, PTSD, war flashbacks, angst towards the end

a/n: yup, you're seeing correct, I uploaded a day early!! woooo

Chapter Ten || Chapter Twelve

When Joel mentioned taking you out for a date, you couldn't help but imagine something simple and unassuming, just like him. You envisioned a quaint, unpretentious restaurant where you could share intimate conversation, followed by a leisurely stroll back home. You knew Joel wasn't exactly an innovative man; however, his wood carving skills, took you by surprise when he showed you some of his artwork, it made your heart grow fonder for him. As much as he poked fun at himself for not understanding art, or knowing much of it, he was an artist.

In the end, you weren't expecting anything extravagant, and you had no complaints about it. That was a part of his Texan charm. It was who he was, and you loved him for it.

What you didn't expect was to take a thirty to forty-minute drive to South Congress.

“You didn't have to go through all this trouble,” you say as Joel opens the truck door for you. Smiling, he rolls his eye. He offers you his hand, and with a skip in your heart, you accept it, feeling the heat of his palm. Joel steadies you as you hop down from the vehicle. Sarah was at another sleepover, carefully orchestrated by Joel, making it the perfect time for him to take you on the first date he mentioned a couple of days ago.

“It’s no trouble,” he answers, moving his jaw. “But if you keep sayin’ that I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re not a fan of the idea.”

“Oh, I’m definitely a fan. No need to worry your pretty head about that.”

Before taking the first step, he holds your arm and tugs you back toward him. Your eyes widen when he throws your jacket over your shoulders, “‘Might get cold,” he murmurs, fingers skimming down your bare arms. Then he sighs. “I love it when you call me pretty. Makes me all tingly inside.”

“Well then,” you smile, leaning closer. “Let me say it again, you’re pretty. Prettiest man I know.”

Joel's lips curl into a wide grin, his humming filling the air. “I’m blushin’,” he teases, capturing your lips in a swift, lingering kiss, lacing his fingers with yours. “I knew this would be a good idea,” he mutters against your lips in a self-congratulatory tone. His taste lingers on your mouth, leaving you craving more.

“I don’t want to burst your bubble but I’m still not sure what we’re doing here. You never told me.”

Hand in hand, you and Joel set off, walking down the street at a leisurely pace. The sun, beginning its descent from the vast expanse of blue skies, painted the world in a soft, golden hue.

“We’re here to look at the murals,” he explains. “Thought you might like it, bein’ an artist and all. And if we get hungry there’s this Tex-Mex place I like to go to, I take Sarah there all the time.”

He's nonchalant about it, yet he still averts his eyes. A soft crimson flares under his shirt, creeping up his neck and tinting his cheeks. Your heart beats quickly. You may now be a part of his life, but Sarah will always hold a tender place in his heart. Something he hesitates to share, like a tiny box of secrets. She's his everything. You wonder how many times he had to keep that part of himself hidden, how many times he mentioned his daughter and saw the hesitation in the other party's eyes. It's no one's fault, really. It's a complicated situation no matter which side you consider. And you're fairly certain he's never mentioned his romantic endeavors to Sarah. Why would he? To him, none of it ever led anywhere, so there was no sense in telling her about it.

You don't want him to be nervous about sharing more about that part of his life. You have adored Sarah ever since you met her. Now, you're somewhat grateful that it took the two of you longer than normal to get here. It gave you a chance to show him that no matter the state of your relationship, you'll be there for Sarah, for Tommy, and for everyone he cares about.

Because you care about them too.

“You visit here a lot?”

He tips his chin, “We used to,” he answers and offers you his arm, you thread the gap between torso and tricep. “When she was five we came here a lot. Really liked it.”

A half chuckle, half exhale leaves his lips. You give him a sympathetic look. “Well, maybe we can come here together one day. Tommy too. We can make a day of it, I bet she misses it.”

"Yeah," his eyes glaze over for a second, looking ahead towards the sun-kissed street. You softly dig your nails into his arm, snapping him out of it. He blinks and tenses under your touch. "Yeah, we definitely should. Maybe during spring break or somethin’."

You squeeze his arm again, and when he turns to look at you, you smile. He returns it in kind, and you feel his smile leave an imprint on your skin as his lips touch your forehead.

“Can’t wait to show you all of it, sweet tea.”

And he does.

Joel shows you everything that he loves. The streets of Austin come alive with vibrant murals, each one captivating in its own way—some simple, some complicated. You see the South Congress Mural on South Congress Avenue that stands tall, its graffiti letters painted in vibrant colors, depicting the cityscape. The italicized phrase 'I Love You So Much,' spray-painted by Amy Cook for her partner Liz Lambert—Joel doesn't say much here. He stares at it for a while before gripping your hand tighter. Suddenly, he tugs your arm, pressing his lips firmly against yours, sucking the air from your lungs. Here, you take a quick coffee break and continue on.

There are so many. Your eyes catch sight of a mural depicting a piece of toast and yellow butter, lovingly painted on a vibrant blue wall, inside the piece of butter and toast it says “you’re my butter half”. You laugh and nudge Joel in the ribs and repeat the words to him. His smile is the widest you’ve ever seen.

Joel introduces you to Jeremiah the Innocent. A smiling cartoonish frog, on top of it you read HI, HOW ARE YOU. He then told you that Jeremiah had another name as well— Ron. Named by, of course, Sarah. Leaning closer, you tell Joel that you agree, the frog looks much more like a Ron rather than a Jeremiah.

After that Joel, a keeper of his word, takes you to a small Tex-Mex place. He orders chips and queso as an appetizer, followed up by two cold beers and tacos.

"I think you might have killed me," you say, rubbing your stomach and leaning back as the cold metal of the chair bites into your skin.

Joel cocks an eyebrow, a small smile touching the corner of his lips. “So. . .no dessert?”

“Don’t joke,” you answer seriously. “I always have room for dessert.”

He laughs, “You sound like Sarah,” just as you begin to smile, he adds. “And Tommy actually. That man has an endless pit instead of a stomach.”

“Tell me about it.” you grin.

The sun begins to disappear, shades of light blue fading into something darker that lingers in the sky. It reminds you of the times when you angrily slap your widest brush on top of the canvas and just move it around without any aim or goal. The string lights come to life. Joel looks gorgeous under the soft glow; it's almost dreamlike. If you were to reach out, you're not entirely sure that he wouldn't fade away.

His hand finds yours over the table, lacing your fingers together. A stuttering, silent breath escapes your lips. The effects of alcohol buzz both in your veins and mind. His thumb traces your knuckles, a gesture so familiar yet foreign at the same time. With a smile, you bring the back of his hand to your lips before he does. You tenderly kiss him, feeling the softness of lips moving over the mountains and valleys of his hand. His breath hitches, and your ears feel warm.

"Should we head back?" he murmurs, his voice dipping into something darker. His thumb finds purchase on your lower lip and tugs on it, eliciting a soft gasp. "I think I'm gettin’ hungry again."

You kiss the pad of his thumb as he cups your cheek, and you nuzzle into the width of his palm. Wetness gathers between your legs, heat building at the base of your spine. You can't wait for him to devour you.

Joel’s fingers trace the spine of the book that lays idly on your bedside table. He adorns a soft smile, gaze curious as he picks it up.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, turning your back as he begins to flip through the pages. “I’m going to freshen up a bit, make yourself comfortable.”

With that, you exit the bedroom and head to the bathroom. You're feeling positively tingly. The ache in your bones would normally entice you to go to bed early, but sleep is the last thing on your mind right now. All you want is for that man to ravage you. During the drive back, the only thing on your mind was his lips, his hands, his cock—his weight on your body.

You quickly splash cold water onto your face, sighing as the cool numbness replaces the sticky sweat from the day. After brushing your teeth, you head back.

You smile when you see Joel sitting at the edge of the bed, book still in hand.

He’s looking at something.

You raise an eyebrow, taking a step closer. There’s something in his hand, something smaller and vaguely familiar.

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit.

“Joel?” Your voice barely manages a whisper, you're surprised he hears your pleading call of his name. He flinches, shoulders raising all the way to his ears. You clear your throat. “What. . . What are you looking at?”

You already know the answer.

"How long have you had this?" he asks, every word sounding dull. He twists his body enough to face you, holding the small Polaroid picture between his fingers— oh god, you're screwed, aren't you?

"I-I can explain," you blurt out, increasing your steps' speed. You stand in front of him, the picture's glossy surface reflecting the light into your eyes. "You forgot your magazine, and when I opened it to read it, the... the picture just fell out, I swear! I know I should've told you, gave it back, but, well, I—"

Unable to keep your eyes open due to the constant spinning of the world around you, you close them. His gaze remains fixed on you, half moons hidden beneath bushy eyebrows. Embarrassment surges through you, heating you from the inside out. In a fit of desperation, you cover your face with both palms, sighing into them. "Fuck, I'm so sorry," you mutter, your voice muffled by your hands.

Joel stares at you, dumbfounded. With shaky legs, he stands and gently cups your wrists, tugging your hand away from your face. You refuse to meet his gaze, your eyes glued to a spot on his neck. You miss how wide his eyes are, how his gaze grows soft as he stares.

“Why are you sorry?” he whispers. “I think you misunderstood, sunshine. I ain’t mad. I’m embarrassed.”

“What?” you furrow your brows, lifting your gaze. “Why?”

He smiles, “Lots of why’s goin’ around,” you continue to stare and he clicks his tongue. “It’s a half-naked picture of me. A picture that I took, you can’t blame me for gettin’ flustered.”

“You look good.”

“Thanks,” he scoffs with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I guess it’s better that you found it instead of. . . Tommy or worse.”

You know what worse means. He’s right, he was lucky it had been you.

“I’m just glad you’re not mad.”

“Me, mad at you?” he shakes his head, looking appalled by the thought. “Never.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

His hands drop to your waist. Fingers roughened with work digging into your flesh. The excitement you felt comes rushing back, flooding your veins. Joel pins your hips together, the growing outline of his cock brushing your clothed mound. You gasp and he inches impossibly close, lips brushing your ear. “Why did you have it in your little book over there?” he drawls, his voice thick. “Did you touch yourself lookin’ at it, sweetheart?”

Your voice shakes and you can barely get a word out. You swallow, shaking your head.

“Don’t lie,” he hums. The drag of his lips down your neck turns your insides into mush. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

A moment of silence follows. You take this time to unbutton his jeans and slip a hand underneath the dense fabric. You cup his length, and it hardens in your palm, growing in size. Your breath hitches as his hips move forward, chasing the grip of your fingers. Taking a deep inhale, you breathe him in, filling yourself with his scent.

“I wanna watch,” his voice cracks. “See how you touched yourself while thinkin’ of me.”

Your breath hitches, “And what will you be doing?”

You stroke him slowly, the pad of your thumb moving over the slit before moving down again. You shiver at the feeling of his hot breath against your skin.

“I’ll be watchin’, sweetheart. Engraving your spread-out cunt into memory.”

“Jesus, Joel,” you breathe heavily, your pulse loudly thrumming in your veins. Joel is absolutely filthy—something you never thought you’d be thinking. He tugs you towards the bed. With every step, another garment falls to the floor. You’re shivering all over, body cold yet warm at the same time. The expectation crackling in the air pricks at your skin.

What is this? It never felt like this before. A need so desperate. A want so large. In this moment you’re convinced that you and Joel were always meant to be as pretentious that might sound. You have no idea how else to explain it. Every time you’re with him, even in the most peaceful moments, you feel an impending. . . something. You’re not sure what it is yet but you know it’s a wicked, dark feeling. A dystopian surrealism. The works of Zdzisław Beksiński; death, destruction, shattered worlds. . . yet still beautiful. You love those paintings. Just like Joel, it leaves you uneasy and mystified.

The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the bedrest, your naked legs falling open like a butterflys’ wings. You wait for a touch that never comes. Joel drags the chair and takes a seat. He pulls out his hefty length, fingers loosely curling around it. You hold your breath.

“Don’t keep me waitin’ now,” he rasps as he touches himself lazily. “Show me.”

Your eyes never leave him, and you slowly circle your clit with two fingers. An immediate sense of relaxation and soft pleasure blossom over different patches of skin. You pinch the sensitive bundle of nerves and continue moving your fingers around. You arch your hips, wetness growing with every stroke. Your insides clench. Joel’s heavy breathing fills the room, your own breathing coming out in short pants.

“Spread yourself darlin’,” his voice lowers, making your stomach turn. With two fingers you show him, spreading yourself s while you circle the middle one around your clit. A soft whimper of his name echoes from the back of your throat. It’s different like this. Knowing that he’s right there, staring, observing your every move. It lits a fire between your legs. A feeling so raw and open.

Your ache swells inside of you like wildfire. You keen at the slick sounds of Joel’s fist accompanying your own lewd sounds. The rest of the world falls silent, your mind a complete blank, your sole focus on the man that makes you feel soft and tender.

A build-up to an orgasm can be a strange thing. Sometimes you don’t think of anything or anyone, just focused on your fingers and the fire between your legs. Other times your imagination becomes so vivid that you swear there’s a cock splitting you open. Your stomach clenches, muscles rippling under the faux feeling of someone being there with you. And, technically, there is someone with you but not in the typical sense. Your back lifts from the mattress, your feet sliding down the soft sheets as your fingers move frantically. You can feel it hardening, throbbing under your ministrations.

“That’s it,” Joel groans, the bed dips, you’re too far gone to notice he stopped jerking off and is inching closer for a better look. “Come for me, darlin’. Let’s see how you make a mess.”

Your ears ring

Your lips part so wide that the corners are aflame

Your throat constricts a silent plea

Your fingers twitch, insides pulsing as you gush and make a mess—just like he wanted.

You love doing what he asks of you.

You feel it trickling down the inside of your thighs, the curve of your ass. It’s too much. Whimpers rattling your chest, your throat sore. Joel mutters praise, telling you how good you are, how perfect. Another soft lingering orgasm warms you from the inside out, more drops of pure ecstasy spilling over.

He trails his hand up the inside your thigh, slick gathering at the tips of his fingers. A soft gasp leaves your lips as you clench around nothing, “Next time I’m bringin’ the camera over.” you give him a look and he chuckles. “It’s only fair, don’t ya think?”

“I don’t think that picture will be sexy as you think,” you answer, smiling.

He frowns, his look almost glaring as he stares into your eyes, “Bulshit. You’re gorgeous. It’ll be like havin’. . . the . . . Mona Lisa in my pocket,” he says, slightly unsure.

"I do appreciate you using art references whenever you talk to me; it's like a gimmick," you grin and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him closer. "Hey, if you want a picture, you can have one. Just promise not to leave it lying around like you did with your own. I don't need any more embarrassing moments in my life."

“We all have embarrassing moments.”

“That doesn’t sound like a promise,” you answer with a playful lilt. He rolls his eyes, a hand sneaking down between your bodies, he aligns himself with your sopping sex, cock filling you slowly, inch by inch. Your eyelids flutter, a moan ripping from you.

Fully inside you, he murmurs into your mouth, “I’ll guard it with my life. Promise.”

His words fall on deaf ears. Your vision blurs at the stretch of his cock, drawing his hips back, only the bulbous head remains. He watches you. Watches your fluttering cunt adjust to the size, then, just as you’re about to say something, he slams into you. Electricity crackles over your skin, a sensation that makes you feel numb. Joel buries his head into your neck, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin as he sets a brutal pace. His strokes are slow and hard. Every ridge felt as he massages the insides of your cunt. It’s exhilarating. Breathtaking. So much so that you think you’re crying a little, soft salty tears gathering in your eyes.

“You wanna know something?” he groans, fucking deeper into you. “I thought of you while takin’ the picture. Thought about this perfect cunt.”

He holds your thighs with a heavy hold, pushing both legs up until your knees are grazing your forehead. You don’t think being a pretzel ever felt so good. Joel jackhammers into you, the wet glide of his cock leaves you breathless. Between narrowed eyes you watch him; his brows furrowed with concentration, lips slightly ajar, pink tongue poking out. He’s flushed. The soft tint of red looks good on him. You desperately want to bury your lips into his neck and lick the vein that meanders down, you want to sink your teeth into it.

In a quick glimpse, his eyes briefly catch yours. The muscle in his jaw moves and he licks his lips, the color in his irises gone, eaten away by lust. You notice him pursing his lips and your eyes go wide, a thin line of saliva drips from his mouth, adding to the mess between your thighs. Your breath falters, you squeez him tight. His hips stutter but he’s not phased by the sudden tightness.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, voice hoarse. “I wanna feel you comin’ around my cock.”

You moan at how soaked you are, your fingers playing with the mixture of spit and slick. It doesn’t take you long. A couple swipes of your fingers and you’re seeing stars. Your orgasm sears you from the inside out, your entire body tensing at the force of his thrusts. With a knee-jerk reaction, you grip the back of your thigh, nails biting into your skin. He pushes your hand away, thumb soothingly going over the crescent-shaped marks.

His unwavering gaze aggravates you. A sudden shame rolling in your stomach, he bats the thoughts away by allowing your legs to fall and frame his broad waist. Suddenly his lips are on your own, sucking your tongue into his mouth, swallowing the moans. He tastes your hesitations, your fears, your unsaid love for him—all of it, from a single, hungry, messy kiss.

Joel’s hips slow down into a delicious grind, the coarse hairs that crown his cock doused, you feel the brush of his pelvis on the pearl that beats. Your insides flutter one last time before he’s pulling out, spilling over the soft flesh of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he moans into your open mouth. You shudder at the trickle of seed on your skin. “That was amazin’ sweetheart. You always feel so fuckin’ good. ‘Can’t wrap my head around it.”

You giggle, “I hope you know the feeling is mutual, neighbor,” you feel the wet drag of his lips down your cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this good before.”

“You’re just sayin’ that,” he tuts, breath fanning your neck.

“Do I need to remind you how we ended up in this bed?” you tease. “You, finding a picture of yourself that I masturbated to? If that doesn’t convince you I don’t know what will.”

He thinks about it for a second then shrugs, “Fair.”

“By the way thank you for. . . everything. I had a great time Joel,” you thread your fingers through his mussed hair and he lays his head on your chest. His hand gently cups the underside of your breast, a possessive gesture. You feel the scrape of his beard as he speaks.

“I didn’t do nothin’ special. You deserve more.”

Your heart clenches the ache of his self-deprecation a reflection of his inability to perceive his own worth. “Stop selling yourself short—”

He cuts you off, “You deserve to have a relationship you don’t need to hide. It’s not fair.”

Your heart splinters, torn between the desire to protect what you have and the yearning to be truthful to those that you love. When your silence grows, Joel look up to you, his eyes wide like full moons. And just as somber. Your lips crack in a smile.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “We’ll tell him eventually. When we’re ready, right?”

He swallows, throat moving. “Yeah,” he answers, gaze breaking away from yours. “We will. When we’re ready.”

Neither of you are brave enough to ask when that might be.

The sun beats down on Tommy’s skin and with the back of his hand, he wipes away the sweat on his forehead. Next to the grill is always the hottest. It’s a beautiful day out, birds chirping, sun shining and whenever a cloud passes by, adding a bit of color to the boring blue sky, Tommy sighs in relief, enjoying the fleeting coolness of the passing shadow.

Joel is at the grill, and from the corner of his eye, Tommy sees him turning the ribs and chicken wings. A loud sizzle fills the air, and with a hiss, Joel backs away, cursing as a searing drop of fat lands on his tanned skin. In typical younger sibling fashion, Tommy laughs, earning an equally heated glare from his older brother. Neither of them says a word. Joel returns his gaze to the meats, while Tommy shifts his eyes back to the large bowl he's holding. It contains a mixture of a generous amount of barbecue sauce, olive oil, Worcestershire sauce, minced garlic, smoked paprika, cayenne pepper, salt, and black pepper. He gives them another vigorous stir before adding the stemless button mushrooms. He tosses them all together until each one is evenly coated.

A bead of sweat rolls down his face, “Joel, I know you have this sense of always wantin’ to be right but I doubt our recipe is gonna be the one to change her mind about mushrooms.”

“It will,” he grunts, shirt dipping and sticking between his shoulder blades. “If she doesn’t, more for us.”

“Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

Joel doesn’t answer and Tommy doesn’t bother to force a conversation. The silence he shares with his brother has always been a comfortable one, but lately, that hasn’t quite been the case. There’s this wall that he can’t seem to breach no matter what he does or says. And ever since Joel broke up with Asha, it only got worse. He can’t shake the sense that whatever his older brother had in mind, it must be about you. It has to be.

Tommy’s feelings for you haven’t exactly disappeared. As much as he wished he had a button to turn it all off, he can’t, but he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t mind staying friends. What he feels for you is more than that. He enjoys your company, your jokes, your thoughts. He can’t imagine living out the rest of his life without it.

However, he's not stupid, contrary to what many people might believe.

Tommy has noticed the stares, the weird tension in his brother’s shoulders whenever you’re around. Hell, if Joel has feelings for you he should just own up to it, talk about it. All Tommy wants is for Joel to come and talk to him. However, when it comes to romance, Joel rarely does. Even after the breakup with Asha, Joel barely said a word. Tommy later on learned the details from Asha and it fucking stung.

Ever since they were little, Joel had this tendency to shoulder everything, it didn’t matter if the issue was big or small, he would carry it, and he would do so in silence. Tommy hated that. He wanted to talk about things, wanted to tell Joel about his nightmares, the blank notebook that Tommy can’t bring himself to write into—he desperately wants things to change. He wants Joel to stop playing the martyr. Tommy’s not a kid anymore, they can carry the weight together.

“Gosh that smells delicious!”

Tommy jerks at the sound of your voice. Startled, he looks up and sees you making your way through Joel’s yard, carrying a Tupperware full of coleslaw and a pitcher of homemade iced tea. You place both items on the wooden table and walk toward the brothers. Just as you pass by Joel, your hand brushes his shoulder. Again, Tommy sees him visibly tense with the contact.

You turn to Tommy, arms spread wide, a joyous grin stretched across your face. Tommy mimics the expression, pulling up a different kind of mask. He pulls you into a tight embrace and presses his lips ointo your forehead.

"Oh, are those the mushrooms?" you ask, still held within Tommy's arms, your gaze lowered to the small table Joel brought out for food prep. "I'm both terrified and excited."

“I hope you’ll like’em,” Tommy answers. “Joel is convinced that you will.”

You laugh and mouth at Tommy, "Do you think he'll explode if he turns out to be wrong?" Tommy can barely hide the snicker that escapes his lips.

“I heard that,” Joel grunts without looking.

You expertly move the conversation along, “Where’s Sarah?”

"She should be here soon," he responds. "She mentioned wanting to buy some lemon bars for the barbecue."

“Where is she buying them from? Olivia is going to come over too so she can pick Sarah up.”

After discussing locations and making a quick phone call, Olivia happily agrees to pick up Sarah because, according to you, she's not that far away anyway. You help Tommy skewer the barbecue mushrooms, and conversation flows seamlessly. Even Joel gradually loosens up, relaxing as he starts to place the prepared skewers. You appear surprisingly cheerful, and Tommy doesn't mean to imply that you were ever a downer—rather, he hasn't seen you this relaxed in a long time. It seems the grief that had molded you months ago, forcing you to behave a certain way, had loosened around you. Now you see what he’s seen all along; that you deserved to make jokes and have fun and be happy.

He likes to think he had a part to play in that with the renovation of the room.

In the midst of finishing up the mushrooms, a car stops, and a moment later, Olivia and Sarah hop out.

Sarah wastes no time wrapping her nimble arms around Tommy's neck, giving him a tight hug. Tommy returns the gesture in kind, lifting her off the ground a little. "Hey, sugarcube! How was school?"

"Boring," she answers, letting go. "How was work?"

Tommy scrunches up his nose, prompting a bubble of laughter from her. "Boring," he parrots.

While Sarah heads inside to change, Olivia places the lemon bars on the table and comes to greet you. The sizzle of the grill fills the air as Sarah's voice cuts through the lively atmosphere, calling out to Joel from the window of the house. "Dad, I can't find my purple shirt!" she exclaims. “You said you’d have it washed today!”

Joel turns his attention away from the grill, a concerned furrow forming on his brow. "I'll be right there, sweetheart," he assures her. He looks over at Olivia. "Liv, can you man the grill for a moment?"

Olivia nods, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Consider it done. You go find that shirt."

With a grateful nod, Joel moves swiftly toward the house, leaving Olivia to handle the grilling duties. He passes by Tommy and you, giving a brief smile and a nod of acknowledgment before disappearing inside.

Tommy's gaze follows Olivia as she confidently takes charge of the grill, her tongs expertly flipping the remaining skewers and wings. There's a sense of ease in her movements, a natural grace that Tommy finds captivating. Her focused expression softens with a slight smile.

Meanwhile, Tommy takes a moment to observe you as you retrieve a couple of cold beers from the cooler. The sunlight catches in your hair, casting a warm glow around you.

You approach him with the beers in hand, Tommy can't help but be captivated by your infectious smile. It's a smile that reaches your eyes, radiating happiness and a genuine warmth that draws him in. He takes one of the beers from you, his fingers grazing against yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt of electricity through his veins.

"Cheers," you say, raising your bottle in a toast. Tommy mirrors your action, their bottles clinking together, the sound ringing in the air.

"Cheers," he replies, his voice laced with genuine affection. The clinking of the bottles marks a moment of connection, a shared bond that goes beyond mere friendship.

“Isn’t it interesting?” Olivia suddenly says, snapping your attention from Tommy to her. He frowns.

“What is?” you ask.

“That I’m here. . . doing all the work without a beer in my hand.”

You roll your eyes, walking back to the cooler, “You could’ve just asked you know?” you tease, handing her a cold bottle. She shrugs with a wink.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Tommy smells smoke. The crackling of flames too loud. Their banter fades into the background. His body grows tense by instinct, feeling the threat of danger that isn’t there. He becomes uncharacteristically still, listening, but not hearing anything.

“Ah shit, I burnt it,” Olivia hisses, fanning the smoke with a moisturized hand. “Well, at least I only burned three of them. You guys think Joel will kill me?”

He hears bits of the conversation, your laughter following Olivia’s words. The smoke in the air is thicker now, grayer. Sweat sticks to his skin and Tommy swears he feels the familiar feeling of hot dirt on his skin. Unaware, he starts rubbing his arms, trying to get rid of the sticky feeling.

Tommy smells gunpowder.

He hears bullets whizzing through the air.

Just as the grill suddenly flares up, a searing pain jolts through Tommy's body. In his disoriented state, he misconstrues your touch on his back as a threat. Reacting instinctively, he moves away, his mind clouded. His hand inadvertently catches your wrist, twisting the limb. You let out a shout.

A surge of guilt pierces Tommy's heart as he realizes that it’s you. His eyes widen with a mixture of fear and remorse, and he releases his grip on your wrist, his hands trembling. "Fuck, sorry—" he stammers, choked up. "I. . . I thought. . ."

Before he can finish his sentence, he sees Joel above your shoulder, his face etched with concern, closely followed by Sarah.

"What happened?" Joel demands.

You step in before Tommy can explain, his chest heaves, “Nothing, I just startled him.”

Joel doesn’t seem to buy it, his gaze fixed on his baby brother, he raises an eyebrow. “Tommy?” he asks again, his voice leveled.

Tommy's gaze shifts from you to Joel and Sarah. He struggles to find the right words, his mind still tangled in a web. He doesn’t say a word, just shakes his head. Joel’s gaze softens, hands coming up to cup Tommy’s cheeks. He lifts his brother’s gaze to face his own.

"It's okay, Tommy. We're here. We're safe, you’re home," when Tommy attempts to back away, Joel holds him tighter. "Let's just take a moment to breathe."

Tommy’s mind blanks for a second when Joel visibly takes a deep, slow breath. Joel looks at him with a sign of expectation and the younger Miller mimics the way he breathes. Deep and slow. One, two, three. Once more, and that’s it. He’s breathing again. The sky is blue again.

“Shiiiit,” he exhales on the last breath. Joel drops his hands and takes a step back, you’re standing right next to him, brows drawn together. Suddenly the guilt is back. “I’m sorry,” he says the apology muffled by clenched teeth. “Are you. . . okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say hovering back and forth, wanting to come closer but also not wanting to overwhelm him. “Do you need anything?”

“I should be asking you that,” he takes a step closer, taking your wrist between his fingers. He gently smooths his thumb over where he bent—god, he’s a fucking mess. “We should put some ice on that.”

“I got it!” Olivia jumps out, placing the end of the cold bottle on your wrist. You stifle a snort. She narrows her eyes at you. “That’s a weird way to say thank you.”

You roll your eyes, “Thanks, Liv.”

Tommy pulls away and takes a seat. Content in having calmed his brother, Joel returns to the grill and gives Olivia a look that screams, "What the hell have you done?!"

He smiles, feeling his racing heart finally begin to calm down.

“Are you sure you’re alright uncle Tommy?”

His eyes meet Sarah’s, two concerned and observant juvenile eyes staring into his own. He’s not sure what to say—no, he knows what to say, he just doesn’t know how to say it in a way that she’ll believe him.

Without waiting for a response, Sarah sits next to him and reaches for two glasses and the pitcher. She pours iced tea into both. “Here,” she says, prompting him to replace the beer with the glass. Tommy obliges.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he murmurs. “That ain’t your responsibility.”

“It’s not. . . but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t worry. And I know you can’t talk to me about it, I’m not dad, but you know I love you, right?”

“‘Course I do,” Tommy answers quickly, ignoring the way the sun stings his eyes, he forces them to stay open. “Your dad takes good care of me. And I know you care, I appreciate the reminder though,” he lets out a sigh, drags a heavy palm down his face, and swallows. “I’m gonna get better.” I have to get better.

Sarah doesn’t say another word. She slowly drops her head to his shoulder, looks over to her father who’s in the middle of placing three mushroom skewers on your plate. Tommy smiles.

“They’re idiots,” she murmurs, he doesn’t miss the affectionate cadence in her tone.

“Yeah,” Tommy answers. “But they’re our idiots.”

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. However, your love for mushrooms still remained nonexistent, much to Joel's surprise. He was shocked to see that his and Tommy's barbecue mushrooms hadn't managed to convert you into an avid mushroom lover. In an attempt to mask the lingering taste, you nearly downed the entire pitcher of iced tea—making sure Joel wasn't looking, of course. He was still quite salty about not liking them. He even went far as to pout about it, which you found adorable if you’re being completely honest. You're not sure his ego could handle the thought of you desperately wanting to scrub your tongue with a sponge.

Olivia was the first one to leave as the scorching sun was replaced by shiny stars, and you helped with cleaning up. You noticed that Tommy was avoiding your gaze like the plague, and Joel remained silent about what had happened. Your wrist, although not physically hurting, still ached. You had promised him that you would be there for him, but you felt like you had failed miserably. You had no knowledge of what was going on in his head, and if today was any indication, there was a lot happening.

When he’s about to bid his farewells, you touch his forearm. It’s such a small gesture but he flinches anyway and you quickly withdraw your hand. You chew the inside of your cheek.

“Do you want to come over?” you ask, swallowing. “I have some leftover wine.”

It doesn’t take him long to answer but the seconds that pass feel like an eternity. He nods and gestures to the door.

“I’ll be waitin’ outside, go get your things.”

“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a sec.”

He closes the door softly behind him. A click that is barely audible. You hear footsteps and turn to see Joel exiting the kitchen. “Everythin’ good?” he asks.

“I think so, I invited Tommy over. I think it’ll be good to talk.”

You see it in his eyes, the need to hold you, to cradle your cheeks and brush your lips together. The internal fight is visible from his expression. You figure which side wins when he remains still, staring, eyes flitting between you and the windows near the door. Tommy’s smoking a cigarette with his back turned.

“I think so too,” he says, dropping his gaze to the floor. “He’s been more closed off lately and my usual grumpy self probably ain’t helpin’.”

“I applaud you for admitting that you are, in fact, grumpy.”

He tries to hide it but can’t, a small smile peeking from under his mustache. “Shut up.”

“I really wanna say make me,” you grin and pick up your bag. “But I don’t think we have time for that.”

“I’ll remember, don’t worry.”

You ignore the way your legs press together at the sudden drop in his tone. The chill of the doorknob sends shivers down your spine. You’re afraid of being alone with Tommy. You’re scared that you’re going to blurt everything, all of it. You miss being able to talk to him—Tommy definitely wasn’t a stranger to the rants about the many failed romances in your life. With a sigh, you crack the door open. You hear a shift behind you. . . then a gentle hand on your waist.

A kiss on the back of your neck.

“Call me if you need anythin’.”

“I will.”

You finally step into the warm night. Tommy turns to you, exhaling smoke from his nostrils. The knot in your throat makes it hard to breathe, the younger Miller looks over your shoulder.

“See ya later old timer,” he calls out to Joel. You don’t hear him answer but you’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, the click of the door follows. Cigarette loose between his lips, Tommy offers you his arm and you take it.

The walk to your home is a silent one.

Your house is ominous in the dark, quickly, you flick the lights open. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“I always do,” he murmurs and takes off his shoes. “Would it be alright if we skip the wine? I’m not really feelin’ up for it.”

“Of course,” you answer. “Do you want anything else?”

“Nah. Let’s just talk.”

The request takes you by surprise. You blink dumbly at the back of his head, and when the silence fills the space between you, he turns. He stares at you for a moment, gauging what your reaction means. His brows come together, a humorful smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

“Why do you look so shocked? That’s why you invited me over right? To talk.”

“I. . . Yeah, exactly.”

He heads to the living room and you follow his trail like a lost duckling. “Before you say anythin’,” he says, lifting a hand as you take a seat next to him. “Let me apologize. I didn’t mean. . . I would never hurt you. Today was an accident, I got lost.”

Lost. . . that was exactly what it was, wasn’t it?

“It’s okay, it was my mistake really. I shouldn’t have touched you when you were so out of it. Can I. . . Can I ask what you were thinking about?”

His shoulders raise, his breathing becomes shallow, “I think it was because of the smoke. I was right there, at the battlefield, again. Fuck. I didn’t know.”

You wait for him to continue.

“There ain’t much out there you know? Just you and a couple of brothers you made along the way. When you see them fall, it’s hard to erase the memory of it.”

“No one is expecting you to erase it,” you whisper, your hand hovers above his knee and when he nods, you place itover the curve. “As hard as it is, that’s a part of you. No one blames you for today. No one is mad at you. We just want you to be okay—I want you to be okay.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m workin’ on it. I just hate talkin’ about it so much. I tried. . .I tried to be the hero you know? I tried so hard to make a difference. It didn’t mean nothin’ and when you realize the person you’re gunnin’ down is just as lost as you are, you realize there are no heroes in the battlefield.” a sudden chuckle bursts from his lips, compeltly void, he covers his face with a palm. “But I’m still so stupid. I still want to believe some difference can be made. I want to be good so fuckin’ bad and I don’t know why. I should be happy just doin’ my own thing like Joel but I’m not.”

His words sink into your skin, blend with the blood in your veins, and suffocate your lungs. You want to cry. He sounds so broken, so hopeless. The need to hold him makes your knees tremble. You imagine an eighteen-year-old Tommy, signing up with the army with a hopeful gaze. You’ve heard the stories, remember Joel telling you the arguments that followed after that. Tommy hadn’t backed down, adamant about proving his brother wrong. The stubborn nature of it reminds you of your own brother, the endless arguments that would go on and on and on with your grandfather.

The army takes their hopes and dreams and spits them out broken and strange.

“You’re not stupid, Tommy,” you mutter, barely audible. “We all want to be good. There’s no shame in that. I’m. . .similar, I always want to do the right thing. I want to be good too. Don’t compare yourself to Joel he. . . he got lucky with Sarah. As long as she’s happy and safe he doesn’t care about right and wrong. We on the other hand, we’re still trying to find ourselves. It’s not as easy for us to make that distinction. We think endlessly about the ones who get caught in the crossfire.”

God, but you aren’t doing the right thing. It’s easy to forget that with Joel’s lips on your skin—sure, maybe you’re not straight-up lying to him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re being dishonest.

He looks at you with those puppy dog eyes. So round and wide. “People like you can’t try to be good,” he answers, confusing you. He waits, allowing the silence to follow as he thinks of his words. “You’re already good. You don’t need to try to be.”

The confession bubbles up from your chest to your throat. You taste it. Sweet like sugar and deadly like poison. You have to tell him. You need to tell him.

You lick your lips, your mouth dry like sandpaper. He’s staring directly into your soul, he sees something hopeful. Something good. You want to shake him, tell him that he’s the good one. He doesn’t blink. Not once. You open your mouth. You’re going to do it, you’re going to tell him and whatever happens next, however he reacts, it’s what you deserve.

Normally, Tommy’s eyes are a shade lighter compared to his older brother’s. While Joel’s eyes walk the line of being downright black, Tommy’s always reminds you of your favorite brand of chocolate.

But right now it’s dark as night. Just like Joel’s.

“Hey,” he finally blinks, smiling. The confession that had bubbled to the surface slowly simmers down. “We should get some sleep.”

“But—”

“I appreciate you talkin’ to me sweetheart. I. . . feel better, in a weird way,” he comes closer, kisses your cheek. His lips are damp. “I’ll be sure to talk to you more in the future, a’right? Promise.”

“Okay,” you mumble. You both get up from the couch and saunter upstairs, the air that surrounds you lighter. He takes the guest bedroom, the room where August slept the week before.

Tommy stills at the door, “Well, goodnight.”

You can’t leave it at this, you just can’t.

“Tommy, I need to tell you something.” your words are sharp and clear. His hand tightens around the doorknob, what does he think you’re about to say?

“Yeah?”

You can’t do it. Coward.

“Do you need. . . another pillow?”

“Um,” he opens the door, takes a look. “No, I’m good. Is that all you were gonna say?”

“It is.”

It isn’t.

I'm sorry that this took me insanely long for some reason???? Honestly, I blame the fact that I'm not used to writing family dynamics, it's hard. 😭😭😭 but nonetheless I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, let me know what you guys thought 💜

I did make a post about it but I'll be taking a small break from SIB, I will return to it and will be working on it in the background but I really need to let my mind loose. The next two chapters are already outlined so y'all won't be waiting for that long! This isn't one of those series where the rest of the plot is lost in time and space and I'm too chicken to work on it lmaodfvd

Thank you so much for all the support!!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #hbo the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

605 notes · View notes

seresinhangmanjake · 1 year

Text

It's What You Make It

Dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake hasn't been on the best of terms with his parents since they found out about you and his baby, and now his mother decides she wants to meet her granddaughter.

Warnings: cursing maybe? Protective Jake

Notes: Suggested by an anon / Part of the Oh, Baby Universe.

Words: 4200

-----

“Jake, dear, your mother would like to meet her granddaughter.”

It was cruel, really, to have such devastating words leave the lips of one of those he loved the most, but maybe that was why she of all people was tasked with it. He wasn't likely to listen to another on the matter. Hell, had anyone else but she called, he wouldn't have answered, and he struggled not to see it as a bit of a betrayal. A trick.

"Gram," he sighed into the phone, running a hand through his hair, "I'm not doing this with them. After everything we just faced with her mother, why should we put ourselves through dealing with mine?"

"You know she had nothing to do with that email."

"Yea and nothing to do with discouraging it, either."

The other end of the line went silent. Jake looked to his left where his daughter was being bounced on her mother's lap just out of earshot. You smiled at the girl, but the stone now sitting on Jake's heart kept it from swelling as it normally would at the sight of your brightened face.

His perfect little family. Safe and sound in California. Far from Texas. Far from the people you'd yet to learn criticized you for your past choices.

When you first asked about them, Jake couldn't hide the fact that his parents were displeased with the coming of his daughter. He'd blamed it on their lack of open-mindedness to the girl being brought into his life under ‘unique’ circumstances, and while that was in fact a part of it, the bulk of their problems they placed solely in you and not trusting why you bothered to return when you left him to begin with. They buried you under a mountain of their judgment and you were completely unaware. But that was how he wanted to keep it. He wanted you in the dark. Oddly enough, the darkness was where you were safest. And that plan had been working so well, too. You had a healthy understanding of the difficulty of parents, and after the way your mother treated him the month prior you hadn't pressured him for more information on his.

I only care about the three of us, Jake. As long as we're together, nothing else matters—that's what you'd said. You sealed that promise with a kiss that led to hours in bed full of sex and naps and cuddles and what felt like hundreds of exchanges of 'I love yous'.

The issue with his parents wasn't brought up again.

And now his grandmother was ruining it.

"What do you expect of me, Gram?" he asked; the first of his rapid-fire questions. "To bring them there? To subject them to that? You really want me to hurt my girlfriend? My daughter? What even makes you think Mom cares to see Eve? There's no way she admitted—"

"Breathe, dear," she soothed. And Jake did as told, but it didn't make him feel the slightest bit better. "I saw it in her eyes."

He sighed, chest noticeably deflating. "Oh, come on. I love you, Gram, but seriously?"

"Jacob Seresin, you hush," she scolded, her voice raised and tinny through the speaker. "You asked me a question, so listen up."

Jake grumbled, defeated. The senior Eve had that power over him. She was the mother his mother should have been. She taught him plenty and raised him well. He knew how to respect his woman because of his Gram. He treated you the way you deserved because she made sure to instill in him the value of women where his own parents had failed to do.

So he listened.

"When I returned from my visit a couple of weeks ago, your mother snuck in the casual question or two whenever your father wasn't around," she explained. "And I told her. Anything she cared to know. That Eve is beautiful and her mother is a stunner." Jake's lips curved upward despite the anxiety building in his chest. "That your girls are perfect. That you are happier than I've ever seen you."

"...And?"

"And she nodded and got a little grin on her face."

Jake waited for more, but it didn't come. His hand rose and fell, smacking against the side of his thigh. "That's your only argument to encourage surrendering the happiness of my family to a couple of snakes?"

"Snakes?" He could practically see the roll of her eyes. "Really, dear?"

"I read you the email."

The email he'd received a few weeks after he got you back and learned of his daughter's existence. The one that spat aggressive levels of disappointment in him, and called you an abundance of names that nearly had him crushing his phone in his palm. The one that expressed very clearly his parents' refusal to acknowledge the woman he loved and his baby as their family.

"No," Jake said as he shook his head. "No, I'm not doing it."

"I'm not saying you have to, dear. I'm just telling you that there is someone else who might want to be a part of your daughter's life. That's more family for Eve to be surrounded by. Another person to love her."

—-

He’d promised her he’d think about it. And while he really wished he could forget her words, they were persistent, nagging, and unwilling to get out of his way; like a damn fly buzzing around his face during all hours of his days and nights.

His grandmother was wise and she was clever to tap into one of his life’s motivations: to provide his daughter with as much love as possible. Though Eve did have love—from him, from you, his team, his grandmother—the potential for so much more was taken away from her.

She didn’t see your family. They lived across the country and after the way your mother behaved, you’d pretty much cut her off for the time being. His sister’s husband was in the Air Force, stationed at Aviano in Italy with no set date of return. And his parents had made their opinions clear, so he felt it best to never let you or Eve around them. But doing what he believed was best didn’t stop the guilt of denying Eve her family, of not giving her enough. He thought about Christmas coming up and how she wouldn’t have her grandparents. He thought about the major events in her life to come; the birthdays and school plays, the graduations, and the, hopefully only, wedding.

Wait, he stopped himself, scratch the wedding. No wedding. How could his daughter possibly have a wedding if she would never be dating to begin with?

But there was still enough remaining to worry him.

Jake didn’t want a day to come when Eve looked around the room and wondered why she didn’t have the people in her life that her friends at school did. She deserved everything he could possibly give her, and his grandmother calling to inform him he wasn’t providing that was a stab to the heart.

“You’re lost.”

The voice—your voice—was one of two powerful enough to crack the thick shell surrounding his thoughts.

Your fingers wove through his hair as he focused his vision on your face, letting the fog clear to make out the perfection he saw in each feature. You wiggled on the mattress, inching your body closer to his and he lifted his arm to drape over your waist.

“What’s going on?” you asked. “You’ve been zoning out for three days.”

He wouldn’t lie to you—never could. And even if he tried, it would be a waste of breath with the way you managed to sniff out untruths like a damn bloodhound. The information he didn’t tell you he always preferred to label as ‘omissions.’ Those could just barely slip by your clever brain. And he’d only ever done it twice; when he’d neglected to spill his hidden love, and when he hadn’t provided you with all the details of his father’s email. Both seemed like good ideas at the time. Necessary. But now…

“According to Gram,” Jake sighed, “my mother wants to meet Eve.”

You tried to control your face, but the ceasing of your nails grazing across his scalp was enough to tell him you were plenty shocked. Likely plenty terrified, too, with the trauma of the last parental interaction.

“Oh.” You blinked once, twice, three times, as your lips parted and sealed and parted again. “So, that means…what? They're fine with everything now?"

"I doubt it, but…" Jake bit the inside of his cheek. Shook his head. “Honey, I’m really not sure.”

“You trust them?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He didn’t know, not even after three days of thought. He cared about protecting his family, but whether or not introducing his mother to you and his daughter would be a choice he'd come to regret was hard to say. “What do you think we should do?”

“Baby, your family, your decision.”

With a groan, Jake pulled you closer and turned onto his back, settling your body on top of his.

“But you’re so much smarter than me,” he said, wrapping his arms snuggly around your waist and tilting his chin up for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, despite the weight of the conversation surely causing you as much unease as it was him. You let him kiss you for as long as he wanted. Like you knew just how badly he needed it in that moment. How badly he needed you.

“You’re no idiot, Jake Seresin," you said when he decided it was fair to let you breathe. "I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

He hummed, pushing some of your hair back behind your shoulder. “Why do you have to be so damn supportive and reasonable?”

You smiled so sweetly. Leaned in closer.

“Because I trust you," you whispered, letting your lips slowly travel around his face, pressing gentle kisses where you could. "And I believe in you."

You pulled back, locking your eyes with his, and as you stroked his cheek, you said, “Because you’re my teammate, Jake.”

He let your words soak in—filling him, sating him—before taking a deep inhale through his nose. On the heavy exhale he released a breathy “Fuck.”

You chuckled. “What?”

“It’s just extremely hot when you say shit like that and I am trying to make a decision that really isn’t helped by my dick getting hard.”

He swelled larger in his underwear as he spoke and he could see the very second that mischievous glint took root in your eye.

“Aw," you pouted, slightly grinding your hips into his, making his breath hitch, "Does my man get turned on by commitment?"

His fingers dug into your waist to hold you still, and with a scowl, he said, "You already knew that so quit teasing me."

“Who's teasing?" You asked as you gave him a peck. "You've been distracted for three days, and I miss you. So let me take your mind off it. Then we can get some sleep and talk it over in the morning."

He loved you for that. That you knew him enough to refrain from pushing him in any direction. You knew enough to know when he needed a distraction from the things that most bothered him.

"Deal," he whispered. Then his fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your face closer to his.

—-

It wasn't talked about in the morning. Not that one nor the weeks worth that followed. The distraction Jake had been so thankful for continued to find itself in the forms of wake-up sex, and invigorating work days, and evenings filled with dedicated family time—things he actually cared about. Thinking about what to do with his mother had been bothersome enough that at the first chance to brush it aside, it slipped from his mind without effort. And he didn’t care, just as he didn’t care how his life had completely split after his father sent that email.

It was a clean severing, like a hot blade through butter, and the two new parts were far from equal. You and his daughter occupied one chunk of his divided world—the larger of the two—and the other chunk was where his parents remained, dwarfed under the shadow of its massive counterpart. It was too easy to let go of that extra bit that was hanging off the end of what was an otherwise perfect life, so he did.

He didn’t follow up with his grandmother—

A mistake he discovered when his mother walked through the front door of the Hard Deck and disrupted the peace surrounding his little family.

His trio had decided to have lunch with Rooster at the bar well before opening hours, and it was the lack of overlapping voices, clinking glasses, and occasional drunken shouting which allowed for the clicking of heels across hardwood flooring to echo clearly throughout the room.

Three voices went eerily silent, the only continuous sound being that of Eve shaking her rattle toy, lost in the sweet ignorance of childhood and completely oblivious to the thickness that had just swelled throughout the bar.

Jake glared at his grandmother who was just off to the side of her daughter-in-law. She stared back, a look of complete innocence on her face until she grew bored with silent standoff and, with a roll of her eyes, made a beeline for you and Eve. She smiled wide, immediately popping the bubble that was holding everyone hostage, to give you a little hug around the shoulders before kissing the top of Eve’s head.

“Oh, I missed you,” she said as huddled beside the small girl.

Jake stood from the rounded table and crossed his arms over his chest, the movement broadening his shoulders and thickening his muscles, like an animal determined to protect his mate and cub from any predator bold enough to test him. And as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what he was looking at. The woman standing still as a statue twenty feet from him was not someone he recognized anymore. He couldn’t guarantee that her next move would not be in the form of a threat, so he didn’t risk it.

His mother raised her hand in a wave weakened by uncertainty. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Her voice was meeker than he expected, and she stood less confidently than he’d ever known in his thirty-four years. Her styled hair and perfectly painted nails and carefully applied makeup suddenly seemed unnatural on the woman before him, like an ill-fitting costume hanging off her body with an uneasy facial expression to match.

“Gram,” Jake began, a deep grit to his tone. He didn’t tear his eyes away from his mother. “What did you do?”

Without glancing her way, Jake knew his grandmother had taken his seat at the table, holding his daughter and likely making silly faces at her as she inserted herself in what was his pleasant weekend.

“You two need to talk,” she said. There was a smile in her voice. A giggle from Eve. “You weren’t going to make the first move, and she was coming either way, so I figured it would be best if I tagged along.”

The crease in Jake’s brow deepened. That was not enough for him. “No warning?”

“Nope. You wouldn’t have agreed.”

He shook his head. His mother still hadn’t moved.

"Is he here?" Jake finally asked her.

His mother startled at his directness, but she recovered after a moment’s passing and took a step closer that Jake immediately made up by taking a step back. She paused. "Jake—"

"Is he here?" he snapped.

The new silence in the aftermath of his sharp tone was loud, terribly loud, and long-lasting. Painfully so.

"Uh, family?" Rooster suddenly said from behind him. "Why don't we take a little walk on the beach."

Chairs scraped across the floor and Jake couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thankful for his friend. Rooster was the only other person to know the full truth of what was said about Jake’s girlfriend and daughter, and he undoubtedly felt the storm brewing. A storm he knew Jake wouldn’t want his family to witness.

No one argued, and as the others made their way outside, you appeared in front of him, breaking the tension of his steady stare. He looked at you, making sure to soften the hard edge in his eyes to soothe the worry in yours, but it didn’t work. His smile was tight-lipped and brief.

"Go with them, Honey," he whispered with a nod toward the door. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles before running his thumb over the top of them. "It's ok."

He tried that smile again, but the expression on your face made it known he was no more convincing than before.

With your free hand you cupped his cheek, then you stood up on your toes to press your lips to his—a little token of strength. When you stepped away from him, you snuck a quick look at his mother before you were on your way, following everyone else out the back door onto the beach.

Only once you were out of his sight did Jake allow his eyes to land back on his mother.

She swallowed hard, her shaky hands clasped in front of her. "She's lovely," she said.

"She is," he replied, crossing his arms once again, stony glare back in place. "Where's Dad?"

Her nerves radiated through the room. He could practically see them—thin wiggly lines emanating from her form.

"He's on a business trip. He doesn't even know I came. I just wanted to meet them. I'm only here for a couple of days and—"

"What happens when he finds out?” Jake interjected. “He'll lose his mind. He’ll show up here, and he won't walk away without making his point clear when it comes to my girlfriend and baby."

He could feel his voice raising as he continued to speak, but he couldn’t restrain himself. The pure rage he’d been trying to tamp down for months was yanked to the surface now that he was looking directly into the eyes of someone who had no issue insulting you, and therefore, hurting him.

She said his name again, but the overwhelming combination of her gentle tone and the pain swirling in her irises had tears beginning to coat his own, a stinging at his nose.

It pissed him off.

"He isn't coming anywhere near them,” Jake practically growled, that internal animal determined to protect his family slipping through the calm demeanor he’d been so close to regaining. “Do you understand me? After the things he said, the things he called her? It's not happening."

His mother nodded. "I understand."

"That little girl is mine. I'm not being tricked into raising someone else's kid!"

"I know, sweetheart,” she said as she attempted a step closer. He flinched but didn’t move away. She took another step. “Gram showed me a picture of her. She looks just like you."

He frowned at her hint of a smile, at her hand extending his way like to earn the trust of an aggressive puppy.

"Jake, I'm so sorry,” She near whispered. She was closer than he realized—he blamed it on his blurring vision—and her palm tentatively landed on his forearm. “This is not how I wanted things to be. You’re my son. The woman you love is outside that door and she birthed my granddaughter.” Her fingers lightly squeezed. “The last thing I want is to be alienated from the family you’ve made.”

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last week, Jake didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think right. He felt lost, and the only things capable of bringing him to safety were not within grabbing distance, separated from him by a door that might as well have been a mile away.

Another palm met his other forearm and his arms were carefully untwined. One of his hands was sandwiched between two smaller ones. He couldn’t decide if it was comforting.

He’d never been terribly close to her, less close to his father, but it didn’t change that she was, in fact, his mother. He’d always feel a bond, in some form. And knowing that her actions, her words, or lack thereof, were too often influenced by being under his father’s thumb stuck in the back of his mind. Rarely did she drift, knowing she’d have to face his frustration, but she had this time, for him, for his child, and it made things all the more difficult. Confusing.

"I know what was said was…horrible. And—" Her eyelids briefly closed as she shook her head. She blew out a subtle breath before looking up at him. “I know I didn't do anything about it. I didn't call you and tell you I wasn't on his side in this. But that's what I'm doing now."

His lips parted but she continued.

“If it doesn’t work, if you don’t want me around them, then I’ll go. I’ll respect that, sweetheart, but I just wanted to try.”

The longer she stood there, the longer she had her hands around his, looking as desperate as she did, the harder it was for Jake to maintain the same depth of anger that he’d been so attached to. It seeped away with the nagging obligation to let her try to be a grandmother to his daughter. Not just for his mother, but for Eve. His baby girl, for whom he would willingly spend his entire life trying to provide everything she deserved and more.

Jake sighed.

“You can meet them,” he said, “But—”

She smiled. “That’s enough for now. I wouldn’t ask for more.”

Good. He wouldn’t give her more. Not now. Not until he saw for himself how she behaved around you and his baby.

Nodding, he said, “Come on, then.”

He could feel her nerves again as they stepped out the back door of the bar, but the moment he saw your face, all of his attention went to you and what you were going to think about what he’d just agreed to.

You only gave a brief look to his mother, a small smile with it, before your eyes were back on his. The question in them he responded to with a nod, then his mother stepped out from behind him. She hadn’t a chance to get a good look at Eve when she arrived, but now that the girl was right in front of her, snuggled in your arms, his mother couldn’t peel her eyes away.

Her hand raised to cover her mouth and muffle the light sob that escaped as she stared in awe at the girl. She eased over to you.

"Could I—" She started but hesitated.

Jake understood her pause. His mother was asking another mother—a woman she didn’t truly know—if she could hold her baby. And what mother would hand her child over to a stranger? He respected her for recognizing that. For not assuming she had a claim on his child.

A relationship with Eve would be a gift to her, but not one she could demand. It was a gift that must be granted. A decision; His and yours. And while he had decided he was ok with his mother being around Eve, you, too, would have to agree.

“Would it be alright with you if I held her?” his mother finally asked.

You looked at Jake again and he nodded again—extra reassurance that he trusted the intentions of the woman asking you to hand over your entire world.

Smile spreading across your face, you said, “Of course,” and lifted Eve in his mother’s direction.

"Oh…gosh,” she breathed, settling the girl on her hip. "You're so wonderful, aren't you."

Her words were breaking as they left her lips, but she continued to murmur sweet praises as she hugged the baby girl close, and kissed the top of her blonde head, and ran her fingers over the much smaller ones. His mother looked at and held her son’s daughter as if she were unreal, delicate, breakable. And that’s exactly what she was. Eve was a miracle—one that brought her parents together again when it seemed so horribly unlikely, and she needed to be treated as such.

Jake’s heart squeezed so beautifully at the sight, and the tears he thought had come and gone threatened to reemerge. He felt full. Oddly complete in a way he didn’t anticipate.

It was uncomfortable to realize how much he wanted that acceptance, for himself, for you, for his child, but he couldn’t deny the relief of seeing his mother care. Not judging but loving the way he chose to live his life despite it being so different than what was expected of him.

A brush against his hand pulled him away from the scene. You tugged on his fingers and grinned when his eyes met yours. You pulled more, but Jake was already moving to sit beside you on the bench.

“You ok?” you asked as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him.

“I’m giving it a chance,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll see.”

----

A/N: this will have a 2nd part.

Turn on notifications for this blog or @seresinhangmanjake-library if you would like to keep up with my writing.

1K notes · View notes

undercoverpena · 10 months

Text

undercover peña

javier peña x f!reader

as promised, here's a snippet (50 or so lines) from this writer wip poll game and undercover peña won! so, here we have it. it currently doesn't have a working title, but the premise is:

Javier, who has left the bureau and is now back in Texas wants a simple life. But, when Steve offers him a job to go undercover with a fellow DEA agent, posing as a married couple to gather information on a potential new player, he finds it difficult to refuse.

warnings: none, except my unedited writing.

All he has to do is pretend. Put on an act.

Wear something shiny on his left hand and—

“Try not to fuck her, Jav.”

He’s not surprised that Steve heads up a department in Miami—nor that he’s happy, content. A glow to his skin, he suspects, isn’t just from the sun, but knowing his wife is able to sleep and getting the chance to watch his daughter grow older.

Javier couldn’t relate—not that he’d admit that.

Picking up a ring, he rotates it between his thumb and finger as he snorts. “Wouldn’t be very husband-like of me, if I didn’t, would it?”

He’s nudged. An intentional elbow to the side makes him grin as he places the ring back into its velvety spot. Because none look right. None seem right—even for a fake thing.

“Fake husband. And don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m hearing a lot of don’ts and not a lot of do’s, Murphy. What the fuck is it you want me to do?”

He’s already been told, informed. Briefed.

Handed a file—everyone expects he won’t read—and given a rundown of what the operation is supposed to look like. But Javier knows better. Suspects, Murphy does too.

One thing Colombia has taught him is that plans don’t mean shit, not when you’re up against an ever-evolving problem.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Murphy closes his eyes. The same noticeable twitch in his fingers and chewing inside his cheek that Javier can relate to: the sign of a recent quitter, and one attempting to use gum as a replacement.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks, shifting the conversation.

Needing too.

Before he’d even got on the plane out here, the tension had been too much. Already beginning to fray him at the edges, as sleep began to be a distant friend. That had just been following the initial phone call.

It hadn't mattered that he thought he'd be okay, his body said otherwise. Remembering—it all coming back to him. The aches, the knot in his stomach. Then there was the way a space had begun to be carved inside of him, a place where a piece of his soul he suspects is meant to be, but was long lost when hunting Escobar.

All of it was made worse by the worried look on his Pop’s face.

“You managed longer than I thought, Javi.”

Even though he had known it wouldn't matter, he had still tried to explain. That this time he was doing his friend a favour, that it was a one-time thing—a few weeks, at most.

It didn’t shift the expression—didn’t stop the disappointed lines bleeding into worried ones, mixing with the ones caused by age. It didn't lessen the tightness in the air, because they were both at a standstill in the centre of a formerly (albeit temporary) happy home.

Sighing, Murphy drops his hand—beginning to gesture, somewhat wildly—likely about to tell him he wasn’t sure.

Javier had been told (on numerous occasions) that you were good, brilliant, the only one he’d trust.

He’d been about to begin unpicking those earlier statements when the door opened, red blouse and black tailored trousers clicking their heels towards him.

It wasn't anything cliché. Time doesn't stop—the room doesn't silence. But something happens. Something shifts, changes—alters.

Because usually, a woman's figure is what he will admire first, but he finds that it's your eyes that he meets first.

And fuck do they cut into him. Practically reach towards him, before they go through him, digging into flesh and fucking bone.

Then, ceasefire, a chance to strengthen his facade as you turn to greet Murphy. But, he swears he can still see them behind his lids. Something which makes his jaw tighten, teeth grind—

“You must be my husband,” you say commandingly. Body turning to him, hand sticking out towards him—adding your name to the statement as though stamping it into the air. “Agent Murphy has told me a lot about you.”

an: dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who is lovely and wonderful, and seemed as excited about this as me.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javi peña x reader #javi pena x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #narcos x reader #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories

288 notes · View notes

johnsgunbelt · 5 months

Note

i needed to share this because who else but you

i cant stop thinking of cowgirl reader and soap together such an odd couple but oh does it feel right (kinda self insert im sorry😓)

Ride Cowgirl, Ride - John 'Soap' Mactavish

You know what anon you’re onto something…I love this dynamic. Pairing: John 'Soap' Mactavish x Fem!Cowgirl Reader

Warnings: None, Fluff

When Soap told the 141 boys he had a girlfriend they all expected a city girl or even another scottish girl.

So when you walked in in your little denim shorts with a tank top and a flannel to cover it topping it off with some cowgirl boots and pigtails with bows at the end it’s the least to say that everyone was shocked.

When they all asked where you were from and you responded in a thick country accent “Oh I'm from Texas!” They all knew they were in for a treat when they heard that accent.

When soap would talk to you and they could all hear you respond it was so fascinating to hear the difference.

“I swear John could talk the hide off a cow.”

“What does that even mean?” Is exactly Gaz’s first question

“Means I talk alot mate.” Because you had taught soap your slang around 5 months ago he's been used to it.

They all automatically ask the same question “Do you have a pet horse and can we learn how to ride it?”

“Yes I do! Her name is Peanut and yeah I can bring her round here sometime for you fellas.”

One time further down the line when Ghost pissed you off you just yelled at him “Pull in your horns!!” and he looked at you like “🤨”

“Means back off Simon!!” You’d both hear Soap yell from down the hall as he was holding up your favorite snack you ran towards him

“Aw John! I’m as happy as a flea in a dog house!” You’d take the snack from him and skip down the hall somewhere else to see someone else around the base

“She was just hungry, sorry Simon.”

Now I think Price would understand some of your slang just cause he’s a bit of a cowboy so sometimes you’d have conversations with him.

I genuinely think soap is so fascinated with the fact you can ride a horse that sometimes he’ll just watch you and I mean he’ll sit there for hours and watch you for no reason.

He has probably pissed you off once and you got all mad at him southern style and he backed off after that and bought you some flowers and some new bows for your hair.

He flexes you off while off on deployment. if he’s on an undercover mission and a lady hits on him all he’ll say is “Are you a cowgirl who has a horse named Peanut? No? Then keep moving, Lass.”

Has probably picked up on your slang while on missions

“Quit yer yammerin'.” “Johnny what?” “It means shut up.” Was a genuine conversation he had over the coms with Ghost.

I def wanna do more with this maybe make an AU IDK AHHHH

110 notes · View notes

trickphotography2 · 7 months

Text

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 15

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 5.4k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 14 | Series Master List | Ao3

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

Chapter 15

“Beau.”

“Absolutely not.” The soothing sound of waves crashing onto the shore, coupled with the steady rise and fall of your husband’s breath, was lulling you into a doze. With his hands planted firmly in the sand, Jake supported your weight as you sat between his legs, back pressed to his chest.

Given that he was about to be surrounded by the ocean in just a few days, you’d been surprised when he planned to spend Sunday at the beach. Rather than stay at the beach at the Navy Lodge, where you were staying on North Island, you drove about an hour away. Under an umbrella borrowed from Penny, he passed a few hours with his head in your lap, turning to brush his lips to your stomach while you alternated between dozing and reading a romance book you’d grabbed from the airport. At his request, you read some of it aloud, trailing off when it got to a steamy scene. One green eye opened when you shifted, a sly smirk spreading across his mouth before he took the book from you and started to read you the somewhat graphic sex scene. When you tried to snatch it back, he leapt to his feet and continued. Once you’d gotten to your feet, he dodged your attempts to snatch it back, finally tossing the book onto the towels before swinging you into his arms and charging into the water. He gave a three-second warning before dunking you both under the waves.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, he walked out far enough to conceal the fact that his hand was between your thighs, rubbing your clit through your bathing suit. With nails digging into his shoulders, you kissed him hard, forcing him to swallow your gasps as you clenched around nothing.

“I love that name,” you grumbled, toying with the high hem of his wet swim trunks.

“Do you know what Admiral Simpson’s name is?” Huffing, you let your head fall back onto his shoulder, the corners of your mouth twitching when he chuckled and kissed your temple.

“If we can’t name our kid after someone you work with - you realize that narrows down our options. A lot.”

“I’m not naming my kid after my boss. Besides, we don’t need a boy's name.” His sandy hand covered your stomach, cool against your sun-warmed skin. “Kiwi is a girl.”

“Nectarine is a boy. When you call him ‘Kiwi,’ it sounds like I have a New Zealander in my uterus.” You couldn’t help but smile as Jake laughed, bouncing you lightly.

“Nope,” he finally managed. “Just the combination of a Texas boy and a Florida girl in there.”

“Sounds like a dangerous combination.”

“Parker.”

“Hmmm,” you said, wringing the water from your hair. Jake pulled back the shower curtain and grabbed a towel. “Parker Seresin. That’s cute. And it would work for a boy or a girl.” Pressing himself to your back, Jake leaned down to kiss your neck.

“What do you think about giving her your middle name?”

“It’s a weird middle name for a boy. What do you think… would you want him to be a junior?” He froze, breath stuttering against your skin. “Jacob Michael Seresin, Junior. JJ for short.” After a moment, he gathered himself and shook his head.

“No. I don’t want any of our kids to be a junior.” Something was guarded in his eyes when they met yours in the mirror. Seeing your worried look, he forced a smile. “Besides, Jacob’s a weird name for a girl.” With a sigh, you shook your head and pulled the towel from his hand, dropping it onto the floor and tugging him from the bathroom. Chuckling, he pressed against your back, fingers slipping between the gap in the towel wrapped around you. Tutting, you pointed to the edge of the bed, and he obliging sat, legs spread wide enough for you to stand between.

“Jake,” you said softly, shaking your head when his hands curled around your thighs and started to move higher. With one hand braced on his shoulders, you ran your fingers through his wet hair and sighed. His smile dropped at your serious expression.

“Darlin’?”

“I… I know you’re sure we’re having a girl and that you said you don’t have a preference, but…” Blowing out a breath, you tried to force away the inconvenient prick of tears in your eyes. He said your name softly, concern etched on his face. “Sorry,” you said thickly, shaking your head. “Fucking hormones. Sorry. I just - will you be okay if we have a boy?”

“Of course,” Jake said quickly, lifting his hands to frame your stomach while drawing you closer. “I thought we were having fun - I didn’t realize that saying the baby’s a girl upset you.”

“It’s not,” you sniffled, trailing your nails down his neck. “It’s just… you’re so adamant, and by the time we find out what they are, you’ll be so far away. And just now, y-you looked so… so… I don’t know when I asked about naming them after you.”

Slowly, Jake’s gaze dropped from yours, first down to your nose, then chin, before his head lowered. His forehead rested between your breasts, shoulders slowly rising and falling with each deliberate breath. You watched as his jaw ticked when he clenched his teeth. After a moment, he said, in a steady but strained voice, “If we have a boy, we can call him JJ.” Your heart broke a little at that moment, and you wrapped your arms around your husband, holding him tightly.

“I don’t care about calling him JJ. I want to know why you’re upset.” Gently, Jake pushed you away and stood, walking to his duffle and grabbing a pair of boxers. “Honey?” He dragged a hand through his hair, shoulders hunched, and shook his head.

“I don’t… I never want our kids to think that they have to live up to their name.”

“What do you - ”

“My dad used to tell me that he was glad they didn’t name me after him - that not making me a junior was one of the best decisions he made.”

He made sure I knew how much of a disappointment I was.

That admission, shared after you first met his mother and sister, was unspoken but seemed to resonate in the silence. You bit your lip hard, taking a shaky breath and forcing away your tears. Never in your entire life had you felt such hatred for another person.

Silently, you walked towards him and lightly stroked his back, feeling him tense under your touch. His eyes stayed glued on his duffle as you stood beside him, his expression purposefully blank. “Love?” you said softly, brushing your lips to his bicep. His eyes closed, brows furrowing as you trailed your free hand down his arm to tangle your fingers together. Jake’s grip was limp as your thumb stroked his empty ring finger. Sighing, you quickly brushed away a few escaped tears before pulling away and retreating to the bathroom.

Hurt shone in your husband’s eyes as he watched you reappear a moment later, wearing your sleep shorts and t-shirt. Returning to his side, you took his left hand and slid his wedding ring back on, pressing your lips to the white gold band. “I want you to listen to me, Jake,” you said, voice rough with emotion. “You are a good man. You are an amazing husband. And our baby has no idea how lucky they are to have you as a father.”

“A father who won’t even be there when they’re born,” he replied gruffly.

“Not through any choice of your own,” you countered. Turning his hand, you placed your wedding rings in his palm. He quickly returned them to their rightful place on your finger. Catching his hand, you slid it under your shirt and pressed it against your stomach. “If we have a boy, will you love him any less than if we had a girl?”

“No.” His answer was quick and emphatic.

“Would you favor his sister over him?” Jake shook his head. “Would you ever tell our son that he was a disappointment?” His throat bobbed, green eyes glistening.

“N-never.” Ignoring the tears slipping down your face, you reached up to cup his cheek.

“You are nothing like your dad. You would never intentionally hurt your family.”

“Dar - ”

“Nothing. Like. Him,” you reiterated. “And if it takes me saying it every day to get it through your thick skull, I’ll do it.” Jake let out a sad chuckle, his hand sliding from your stomach to your lower back as he leaned down to kiss you.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your lips.

“I love you too.” Dragging your hand down his chest, you entwined your fingers and took a step back, gently guiding him toward the bed. After you’d settled back on the pillows, he joined you, tugging your shirt up to kiss your baby bump. He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on a fist while his left hand stroked your stomach.

“What…what about Oliver?” Jake asked hesitantly, focusing on the rise and fall of your breath.

Your hand covered his, feeling the ridge of his wedding ring pressing lightly into your skin. “Oliver Seresin. Sounds perfect.”

Jake tiptoed around the hotel room on Monday morning as he prepared for work. Woken by the sound of the shower, you’d reached for him only to find his side of the bed empty.

After the conversation the night before, you were even more worried about him being gone now. Not because of his physical safety - that was always a concern, and you spent too much time around pilots not to know how dangerous Jake’s job was - but because he was apparently keeping his worries hidden from you. The idea that he would compare himself to his piece of shit father angered you so much.

With reruns of Friends playing low in the background, Jake told you that he was worried about having a boy because he didn’t know how to be a good dad to a son. If the baby was a girl, he would have some idea of what to do - Lina got away with murder but was clearly loved, and he saw how much your dad loved you. There was a blueprint he could follow with a daughter. When you’d tried to assure him that having a boy would only mean you learned how to parent together, he’d agreed with a skeptical look, and you knew he was just trying to appease you.

If you ever had the misfortune of meeting your father-in-law, he would walk away with a piece of your mind. You also felt a new level of anger with Sarah for allowing her husband to abuse her son like that. The fact that Jake grew up in that household to be a man you both loved and respected was astonishing. Sure, he was cocky at times, but it was an attempt to mask some pretty big insecurities.

The water cut off, replaced by the buzz of an electric razor. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened. “Morning,” you mumbled, opening one eye to see him rubbing a towel through his hair. He smiled tiredly and tossed the towel back into the bathroom before walking toward the bed.

“Morning, darlin’. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Shaking your head, you stretched out a hand and smiled when he took it, sitting on the edge of the bed. When you tugged, he sighed and briefly let go of your hand to pull back the blankets. He wrapped his arms around you, guiding your head onto his shoulder. Light fingers drifted along your forearm, nudging you back to sleep.

“Flying today?” you asked, twirling your finger in the chain of his dog tags.

“No, just briefing and last-minute stuff. I should be off tomorrow or only need to go in for a few hours.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “What are you going to do?” At your shrug, he chuckled. “You’ll have the car, so you should go out and explore. But don’t forget that we have dinner plans tonight.” Nodding, you tilted your head back to kiss the hinge of Jake’s jaw before forcing your eyes open. His green eyes crinkled when they met yours. “There’s my sleepy girl.”

Humming, you slid your hand down his chest, slipping under the blanket to play with the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Need me to do anything this morning?” you asked.

“As much as I really wish we could,” he huffed, flattening your hand over the blanket, “I don’t have time.”

“We can be quick.” Chuckling, Jake shifted to hover over you, his hips pressing yours into the mattress.

“Not that quick,” he huffed, kissing your neck.

“It’s not fair,” you whined, wrapping your arms and legs around him. “The Navy gets you for the next six months. All I want is a couple of minutes this morning.” When he lifted his head to see your pouting lip, your husband couldn’t help but grin. He tasted like spearmint when he kissed you.

“The Navy only has me for a couple of years. You get me forever,” he murmured.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Nope.”

“No.” Jake’s voice was firmer than yours. His arm, which was draped across the back of your chair, tensed as he took a pull from his beer bottle.

“Definitely not,” Rooster added, glancing between you. Your eyes met his, and he gave a strained smile.

“Why?” Amelia asked.

“Uh,” Jake said, lightly stroking your shoulder.

“That’s his ex-wife’s name,” you supplied, squeezing his knee under the table. At the girl’s embarrassed look, you shrugged, sending him a teasing glance. “He’s got a long list of exes, so there’s quite a few names that are crossed off.” Amelia smirked as Jake tugged a strand of your hair.

“I’m surprised he can remember them all,” Rooster muttered, then grimaced when Mav kicked him under the table. “Ow.”

“Dessert?” Penny asked, quickly pushing to her feet and grabbing her empty plate. With the pilots leaving on Wednesday, she had invited everyone to her house for dinner on Monday evening.

“Rooster will help,” Mav said, giving the younger man a stern look. Groaning, the pilot quickly helped collect the empty dishes with Amelia, following the two women into the kitchen.

“So, how are your parents?” Mav asked, rolling his water glass between his hands. Jake shrugged, and you squeezed his knee again.

“Mine are good. They’re down in the Keys with their best friends right now and living their best lives. Got some pictures of them at a drag show earlier,” you chuckled.

“They seem like nice people,” the older man grinned, eyes shooting to your silent husband.

“They’re the best,” Jake nodded. “Couldn’t ask for better in-laws.” It was on the tip of your tongue to say that you could, with regard to his family.

“Are they planning on coming out when you, uh…” He gestured towards your stomach, and you smiled, placing a hand on your bump.

“Yeah, they’re both going to fly out when this one makes their appearance in February. Mom’s already scoping out the fastest route in case I go into labor early.” Jake’s hand flexed, and you glanced at him. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his sad eyes. “You and Rooster will have to take care of this one for me when the time comes,” you said, leaning into your husband.

“Of course,” Mav agreed, with the solemnity of a vow.

“Admiral Tritz said the first one is usually late,” Jake said softly, turning his beer bottle around on the table.

“He’s not wrong,” Penny said, sailing back into the dining room with her helpers in tow. She set a piece of cherry pie before Mav and kissed his cheek. “Amelia was a few days late.”

“Bradley, too.” The man in question set the pie before you and collapsed back into his chair, and Jake smiled at Amelia and accepted the offered plate. “Carole was miserable, and Goose was asking everyone who had kids what they did to kick off labor.”

“Well, there’s one surefire way of doing that,” Penny laughed, winking at you. You forced a smile, trying not to dwell on the fact that your husband wouldn’t be with you to help induce labor.

“Yeah, don’t want to hear about that,” Rooster grumbled.

“Gross,” Amelia agreed. You chuckled.

“After 38 weeks, just prepare to be uncomfortable,” Penny cautioned. “But at least you’re not heavily pregnant during the summer. That was miserable.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Completely worth it in the long run,” the older woman smiled, smoothing a hand over her daughter’s hair.

A whirring sound woke you, and you opened an eye to see Jake walking into the hotel room, juggling two coffee cups. When he glanced at the bed, you quickly closed your eyes and feigned sleep. Depositing the cups and keys on the dresser, he toed off his shoes and quickly undid the buttons on his khaki shirt, draping it over the desk chair. You heard the jingle of his belt as he coiled it, and moments later, the bed dipped. The movement jostled you, and you tilted further onto your side.

But your husband didn’t pull you into his chest like you expected. Instead, the mattress shifted, and you felt a gentle pressure on your stomach and his arm on your hips, accompanied by a heavy sigh. It was silent for a long time, and you snuck a glance to see that his forehead was pressed against your stomach, feet dangling off the end of the bed. Your fingers twitched on the pillow, and you almost lifted your hand to thread through his hair when he spoke. “Mama may hate me for this, but please don’t come early,” Jake whispered. “Stay in there as long as possible. I’m…I’m not gonna be there when you’re born. I’m leaving you both tomorrow, and I hate it. I, uh…your daddy’s in the Navy, which means sometimes I’m gonna have to be away from you when I don’t want to, like now. I’m not gonna get to see you getting bigger in Mama’s belly or feel you move or get to talk to you. So just gimme as much time to get home as you can so I don’t miss more, okay?”

It took all of your strength to lie there, forcing your breath to be steady as your heart broke. Jake had done so much to be strong for you through all the preparation for his deployment - giving him as much privacy as possible for his conversation with the baby was the least you could do. He was silent for a long time, and you were starting to feel the uncomfortable duel sensation of nausea and needing to pee. One of those would be easily remedied by taking the medication Jake always set out for you on the nightstand before going to bed. Still, you were reluctant to end the moment he so clearly needed.

“I’m gonna screw up a lot.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the blanket. “But I’m gonna do my best. You’ll never have to doubt that I love you and your mama. I promise.” Tears pricked your eyes, and you swallowed hard. When he pressed harder into your stomach, you squirmed - he and the baby were pressing on your bladder. The pressure lessened, and you could feel Jake looking at you.

And then a gentle chiming started.

Taking a deep breath, you blindly reached for your phone. Fingers brushed yours, gently taking it from your loose grip and turning off the alarm. “Morning, sleepy girl. Gonna stop pretending to be asleep now?” Without opening your eyes, you threaded your fingers through your husband’s hair. His lips brushed your inner wrist when you overshot, resting your hand on his cheek instead.

“Love you,” you murmured. “Both of us.”

After a long shower, you both dressed for the day. Jake had a few last-minute errands he needed to run, including getting a haircut, so you walked around the Navy Exchange before nipping into the Commissary to grab a few snacks. He’d assured you that he could pick things up at the mini-mart on the carrier, but you wanted to make sure he had some of the canned almonds and beef jerky he liked. And you wanted to sneak another small package of toothpicks into his duffle. Plus, yogurt-covered pretzels sounded good.

The dock was the next stop. Besides visiting the Midway Museum, you hadn’t had much exposure to Navy ships, and you wanted to get an idea of what his life would be like for the next half a year. You weren’t able to get too close but could see them preparing to depart. Jake pointed out the ones going out with the strike group. In addition to the carrier, they would be joined by a cruiser, two destroyers, and a supply ship. Tomorrow, the dock would be full of families saying goodbye to their loved ones before the ships pushed away. The support and maintenance crews from Lemoore would already be on the bus down to San Diego.

Once the carrier was underway and about a hundred miles away from shore, he explained, the fixed-wing aircraft would start to arrive. Aviators didn’t have the dockside departure that the rest of the sailors did because the jets couldn’t land on the carrier while in port. Jake pulled up an aerial picture of the USS Carl Vinson and described how the jets would land and be moved on the elevator to the lower decks or arranged along the edges. He, Rooster, and Mav would be the first to arrive, given how close they would be compared to the pilots coming in from Lemoore. The same system would happen when they returned - he would launch from the carrier and fly back to the base, where he’d meet you on the flight line.

As much as you didn’t want to think about it, the whole process seemed fascinating. Over lunch, he pulled up videos to show a launch and landing, pointing out the crew in different colored vests and jobs in getting the pilots onto the steam-powered catapult. Jake had told you before how much of a rush it was to go from zero to 160 in under two seconds and come to a complete halt in the same amount of time, and an excited gleam entered his eyes. Taking off from the flight line with the meatball as a guide wasn’t as much fun.

Jake held your hand as he drove back to the Navy Lodge, and you tugged him into the room, dropping your shopping bags as soon as the door shut. His hands closed on your hips as you guided him toward the bed, tugging at the button on his jeans. After shoving his jeans and boxers down to his thighs, he perched on the edge of the mattress as you sank to your knees. “Gonna miss you, darlin’,” he breathed as you kissed the head of his cock. Jake nudged the back of your throat, and you swallowed hard, blinking back tears in your eyes. His thumb lightly stroked your cheek before tracing your stretched lips.

Waves crashed and washed over your feet, sand shifting underfoot as the water receded. Behind you, you could hear the screams of children playing in the surf, mingling with the cry of gulls. The sun was setting over San Diego as you walked further from the hotel.

“Guy.”

“Felix.”

“Felix? No,” you laughed. “Alexander.”

“Joseph.”

“James.” Jake cocked his head.

“Oliver James Seresin. I like it.”

“Enough not to get sick of yelling at him when he’s in trouble?”

“Our kid will be an angel if they’re anything like their mother.”

“Okay. I’ll let you think that.” Raising an eyebrow, he pulled you to a stop.

“You sayin’ you weren’t an angel growing up? Your mom told me you were a good kid.”

“Of course, my mom told you that - I was very good at hiding stuff.” Your family had struck a delicate balance many military families had - military brats grew up fast and independent, shouldering additional responsibilities when their parent deployed. You were also close with your parents, given that every few years, you would move away from your support system, and relationships with extended family were often impacted by moving far away from them. But with that closeness came additional freedom, which you had taken advantage of a few times. A few of those sleepovers in high school had definitely been a cover to sneak out and go underage drinking with friends.

Jake’s head fell back, and he let out a put-upon sigh, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Mama, if you weren’t the good kid, we’re in trouble.”

“I think we can handle it, Tex,” you laughed, stepping in front of him and placing a hand on his chest. He smiled down at you, gently shaking his hand free and sliding it around your waist to bring you closer. The gentle swell of your stomach pressed against him, and you tilted your head expectantly. Jake’s lips brushed against yours in a teasing kiss. “Love you,” you murmured.

“Love you too.” He held you tightly, cheek pressed to the top of your head as you watched the sun sink below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange, pink, and purple.

“Sloane Elizabeth Seresin.”

“Sloane Elizabeth Seresin.” Jake tested the name, brows furrowed as he navigated the traffic of the San Diego airport. “Sloane Elizabeth…” He said nothing else as he pulled into the rental car return lot.

You stifled a yawn, blinking away your exhaustion. Try as he might, your husband hadn’t been able to get you to sleep the night before, wanting to take advantage of every last moment with him. To feel his weight pressing you into the bed. To savor the slide of his sweat-slicked skin against yours. The drag of his calloused fingers. To swallow every muffled grunt and moan as he worshipped you.

He’d dozed as you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the steadiness of his breathing and heartbeat. You took the time to study the slope of his nose, how his lips twitched as he slept, and the laugh lines etched into his cheeks. Tried to imagine what features the baby would inherit.

Silently, you talked to them, telling them how much you loved their daddy. That he made you laugh every day. How he would serenade you in the shower, using the body wash as a microphone. How caring he was, from making sure you had medication to taking your car on Sunday to ensure the gas tank was full. And how excited he was to meet them.

Jake turned off the ignition, fingers curling around the steering wheel. “Sloane,” he said again softly before turning to look at you. “Perfect.”

Dread pooled in your stomach as you walked towards TSA. When Jake had asked you to book your flight so you would leave before him, you hadn’t realized how hard it would be to give up those last few hours he would be stateside.

“Please, darlin’,” he’d begged. “I can’t be the one to fly away from you both twice.”

So you’d agreed. And now… now you wanted to skip the flight and stand on the North Island flight line for those last few painful moments. To see the afterburn of his jet rising into the air. But he’d been so strong, and now it was your turn. If this is what he needed, you would do it. Because you loved him.

Your footsteps slowed as you neared the line until the clacking of both of your suitcase wheels stopped. Gently, he tugged you out of the way of other passengers and closer to the wall. Tears blurred your vision as you turned to bury your face in his chest, clinging to his flight suit. Jake held you tightly, hands sweeping your back as he pressed kisses into your hair. “It’s gonna be okay, darlin’,” he rasped. “It’s okay.”

The first one is the hardest, your mother told you.

Remember that you’re a team, your father advised.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you echoed, trying to make yourself believe it. “We can do this.” Sniffling, you pulled away just far enough to meet his eyes. You forced a smile when he gently thumbed away your tears, “I’m blaming the hormones for the waterworks.”

“Definitely the hormones,” he agreed, tears glistening in his green eyes. His gaze drifted across your face as though trying to memorize it. Yours narrowed to a small patch of stubble on his chin that you’d missed when he’d lifted you onto the sink and handed you his razor that morning. Gently, you ran your finger over it and took a deep breath.

“Be careful, okay?” you said, unable to look at him.

“I will. You too.” You nodded, swallowing hard. “Call Javy or Nat or the guys if you need anything. Promise?”

“Promise. Call me whenever you get a chance?”

“Of course. The carrier has wifi, so I’ll be able to call you at least once a week. Can probably text you, too. And I’ll email.” Mav had passed along that piece of information the day before after he’d met with another captain assigned to the Carl Vinson to discuss the mission. “I want you to send me pictures, okay? Wanna see this one getting bigger.” He gently pressed against your stomach.

“Oliver or Sloane?”

“Oliver or Sloane,” he agreed. “But probably Sloane. Can you send me a video of that appointment? When you find out what we’re having?”

“Absolutely.” You choked on the word and inhaled sharply. His lips brushed your forehead before Jake dropped to one knee and kissed your stomach.

“Be good for Mama, alright?” he said softly. “I love you so much.” You brushed away your tears, one hand resting on his shoulder. With another kiss to your bump, he stood up and quickly wiped his face. “I think it’s time to go, darlin’.” Rolling your lips together, you nodded. Your husband pulled you into his arms, hugging you tightly as he kissed the side of your head. “I love you.”

“Love you too. Be safe, and we’ll be waiting for you when you come home.” Jake swallowed hard.

Together, you walked to the line and kissed one last time before you joined the queue. He retreated to the upper walkway, keeping pace as the line moved closer and closer to the TSA agents.

You look ridiculous, you texted him.

Not leaving until you’re out of sight, he replied.

Rooster’s probably waiting outside for you.

He is. He can wait.

You’re going to owe him.

He’s already told me I do. Worth it.

Too soon, you came to the front of the line. Quickly, you turned and met Jake’s eyes. ‘I love you,’ you mouthed before blowing him a kiss.

And then, with one last glance at your husband, you handed over your license. The line for the scanners curled behind a wall. By the time you got past security, he had disappeared into the crowd.

Fly safe, Hangman, you texted him.

You too, Mama. Love you.

Your phone pinged with texts from friends and family checking in as the plane landed in Lemoore. But there was only one that you opened.

Jake had sent a picture of himself in the cockpit, eyes narrowed as he smiled behind his oxygen mask.

I love you, darling. I’ll be home soon.

Javy waited by baggage claim, and he quickly pulled you into a hug at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes. Though he offered to stay the night, you quickly sent him away once you were home.

Alone, you tugged on one of Jake’s Academy shirts and crawled into his side of the bed. Burying your face in his pillow, you sobbed.

Six months.

Twenty-four weeks.

One hundred and seventy days until Jake was home.

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

Author's Note: We knew it was coming, but this still hurt. Had to address some insecurities Jake has before he was too far away to discuss them, like the worry he has about having a son.

The USS Carl Vinson is a carrier that does have wifi that the sailors can access; I found a few articles about how it boosted morale to have internet access. So if Jake had to deploy during Darlin's pregnancy, at least it was on a ship that he could have better contact with. However, the wifi is a double edged sword as there were issues when an F-35 crashed and video leaked out before the official investigation. I surfed a couple military chat boards to find out about the CVW joining the carrier at sea, and watched a few homecoming videos NAS Oceana about the fighter pilots coming home.

Thank you for your patience with getting this chapter out, I really appreciate it ❤️ I'm also curious if you think that they are having a boy or a girl.

Read Chapter 16

Tag list: @mamachasesmayhem; @memeorydotcom; @alldaysdreamers; @kmc1989; @djs8891; @caitsymichelle13; @dempy; @midnightmagpiemama; @lovelyladymayyyy; @caidi-paris; @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby; @bellaireland1981; @lethargicluv; @tenderclio; @lucypaulette; @abaker74; @trhett21; @misshoneypaper; @schreksdoubledeckerhomechecker; @eternallyvenus; @mavrellover91; @chloeforde; @thatbitcily; @rest-of-brazilian-wax; @percysaidnever; @harperdoodle; @hardballoonlove; @maeleeme; @emma8895eb; @xoxabs88xox; @queenslandlover-93; @memoriesat30; @queerqueenlynn

#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman smut #hangman fic #D-Day fic #jake hangman seresin

151 notes · View notes