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joelsmochi · 3 months

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honey ♡ joel miller

rating: E 18+ only pairing: beekeeper!joel x f!reader summary: joel is obviously beekeeping age warnings: not proofread, no outbreak, best friends dad!joel, soft!joel, unspecified 30+ year age gap, a hint unrealistic in the sense that sarah doesn’t care, lots of bee science, mentions of bees/bee stings (ouch), honey play (i had to), fingering, f receiving oral, kitchen sex, pet names, plenty of dirty talk (mhm yes yum) a/n: i totally didn’t google bee sex for like an hour just to be accurate… nope… no i didn’t. lol enjoy & happy valentines day ;)

“Which eyeshadow should I use?”

You looked at the small, black palette and its array of choices before telling Sarah, “Purple, it goes great with green dresses.”

Sarah began to brush the product onto her eyelids while she talked about her plans for tonight with her boyfriend, Alex; her voice became white noise as you caught a glimpse of her father in the backyard working on something.

“Your dad’s a beekeeper, right?” You asked without realizing you interrupted her.

“Uh… Yeah?”

“Cool… How’d he get into that? Doesn’t seem like the type to… Save bees?”

“What do you mean?” She mumbled beneath her working hand.

Shrugging, you tried to keep your expression and tone neutral. “Aren’t beekeepers usually a bit dorky?”

“My dad is a dork.”

“I mean, not really,” you chuckled, watching the man pull out the different trays and examine them. “It’s cute, your dad keeping bees… How old is he again?”

Sarah only rolled her eyes.

“He’s definitely beekeeping age,” you continued. “Kinda sweet. Him caring for a colony of bees in your backyard.”

Your best friend was now looking at you look at her father—correction: you were ogling him. Your attempts at seeming unbothered by his looks failed. Sarah always said you wore your heart on your forehead sometimes.

You just couldn’t help it; Joel was tall and big and broad and… Older. He wore a tough exterior, one that always intimidated you, but now you see him tending to bees. The man was a softie at heart, not to mention insanely hot.

His skin tanned even deeper from the long hours of being in the sun, and his forehead littered with droplets of sweat. Was it so wrong to think about Joel f—

“Sarah, I wanna fuck your d—“

“Oh, really?”

You shrugged and sat down on her bed. “Can you blame me?! He’s like… Twenty times hotter than the guys our age.”

“He’s also twenty times your age,” she spat.

“Doesn’t he have a brother?” You shamelessly asked.

She scoffed and looked at you in disbelief. “Yeah, who’s married and has three kids.”

You groaned softly. “Bummer.”

“You have a fucking insane sex drive, you know?”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you whined, “It’s making me masturbate more than I’d like.”

“You know what, if you wanna make the bold attempt to fuck my fifty year old dad then you have my blessing,” she sarcastically told you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and stared at her shit-eating grin, waiting for her to tell you she was joking. “Don’t bullshit me, Sarah, ‘cause you know I will.”

“Ah—la la la la la! I am not—I am not listening to it anymore. Get it out of your system before I take it back.”

You pretended to lock your lips and throw the key away as she got back on her boyfriend, but all you could think about was her dad.

♡

You waited for Sarah’s boyfriend’s car to leave the driveway before shakily fixing your hair and lip gloss, then you walked into the backyard with eyes set on the man and his work.

“Mr. Miller,” you called once you were a few feet away from him.

He looked up for a split second and motioned his head as a greeting, saying your name in response.

“Bees?”

“Yes, ma’am. Somethin’ I can help you with?”

Shrugging, you walked a little closer but kept your distance fearing a bee sting. “Maybe.”

He lifted a panel up and briefly examined it until he noticed the lingering silence. His dark eyes locked with yours and he sensed your hesitation. “You allergic?”

You only shook your head.

“They’re calm if you are.”

I am so not fucking calm right now, you thought.

“C’mere darlin’. I’ll show ya.”

He used his index and middle finger to beckon you, and you instantly fixated on why you were there in the first place.

You made the daring move to take a few more steps, ears coaxed by the hum of the colony.

“They usually only sting if you annoy them, or smell like a flower.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t spray floral perfume on my shirt this morning,” you joked.

He almost laughed as the bees didn’t seem to care for you so far. “Honeybees really don’t want to sting you.”

“‘Cause it kills ‘em, right?”

Nodding, Joel says, “Exactly. Their number one goal is to protect the queen. Second is to survive whatever threats they face.”

“How’d you get into this kinda stuff?” You asked.

You were trying to find some way to bring up your question without being sudden or rude, though beekeeping didn’t seem like a helpful topic.

“When Sarah was little she used to get a lot of rashes and she had some bad allergies. That over the counter medicine didn’t help, but honey helped. The natural shit— stuff they sell at the store… Well, it gets expensive. And I didn’t have as good a job as I do now... So I figured I’d give it a go and make my own honey.“

“That’s sweet of you. My dad always had me tough it out,” you chuckled.

“I have plenty stashed away in the kitchen. You’re welcome to take some,” he offered. “Hey, what was it you needed?”

“Oh, uh.” You pursed your lips unsure of whether or not you should lie. “Well, I have this sort of… Itch.”

“Itch? It’s not an STD is it, ‘cause I don’t think honey can help with that.”

You knew it was a deadpan joke but the tension had your face stuck in a scrunch.

“No. Not an STD,” you answered. “I just, uh… I really like you, I guess.”

“I hope so, you’ve been eating up half my groceries for the past twenty somethin’ years.”

Idiot.

“No, I mean…” You realized you wouldn’t be able to ask him. “Never mind, uh. Just forget it.”

He watched you turn and begin walking away before it dawned on him. “Oh!”

You faced him again, scratching your head and giving him a nervous look. “Yeah, like I said: forget it. We can just pretend I never asked—“

“Come here,” he said, adjusting his jeans and walking to the other side of the apiary. “Wanna show ya somethin’.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting your stress response of fleeing the scene and standing beside him again.

“Do you know why bees are so loyal to their queen?” He asked after pulling a panel out to show you.

“Mnh-mnh.”

“The queen is the only bee in the entire hive that can produce more bees. Again, a bee’s second main goal is to preserve the life of their species. The queen produces pheromones that calm the bees down and keep the structure within the colony. Drone bees are male bees that really only exist to mate with the queen when she’s a virgin and out of the hive. Worker bees are females that aren’t the queen, but they’re very nurturing. Especially to the queen because she’s the one in charge.”

“Ahh, a matriarchy. Count me in,” you giggled.

Joel chuckled and pulled a switchblade out of his pocket before forcing the blade to whip out. “Do you know how bees mate?”

His voice sounded a little more quiet, and his eyes met yours with curiosity. You shook your head and waited for him to explain.

“When a new queen is selected, she goes out just one time to find a group of drones who will essentially take her virginity. And drones have an endophallus so after they ejaculate into her, their insides are ripped out and the drone dies. When a new drone comes up to mate with the queen, he removes the last guy’s endophallus and does the same thing. Mate with her… And die. She can mate with about ten or twenty different drones before flying back to the hive and laying eggs.”

“So the drones’ only purpose is to mate with a queen?” You asked.

He began cutting away a small piece of the wax, and the honey trickled down slowly.

“It’s the only reason he lives,” Joel muttered. You watched his thick fingers scoop up the liquid gold and he raised them to your lips. “He waits… And waits… And waits… For the right queen to come along.”

He smirked at your amused expression.

“Are you trying to seduce me by telling me the sexual nature of bees?”

He softly shook his head and glanced at your shiny lips. “Not trying to seduce you. Just tellin’ you what most men really want.”

Exhaling, you tried to ignore his fingers lingering in front of your face. The sickly sweet smell of honey filled your nostrils as his words echoed inside of your head.

“Go on,” he whispered, “have a taste.”

It took you a few extra seconds to build up the confidence in order to take him on his dare, but you made sure you did it as slowly as possible.

Your lips parted and he immediately felt your warm breath flow over his fingers; instinctively, your tongue darted out to catch a drop of the honey before it fell to the ground. Then you wrapped your lips around his digits, softly moaning at the sweet tasting nectar that coated his wood scented fingers.

WIth steady eyes you watch his brown orbs darken with lust, hearing him let out a huff and seeing the muscles in his face relax as if your slick tongue gave him the satisfaction he’d been seeking for a long time.

You swirled your tongue around, persisted to taste every last drop. The thickness coated your throat while you desperately wanted it to be something other than honey.

Your lips left his hand with a wet pop that prompted him to lick whatever saliva and honey remained on his fingers.

“Tastes good.”

“Just good?”

“Tastes delicious,” you corrected.

He let out a soft chuckle and put the wood panel back in its place.

“Sarah know you’re out here?”

After rolling your eyes and smirking you said, “She doesn’t need to know. Actually quite sure she wouldn’t want to know. Besides, Alex just picked her up, so.”

“So we’re all alone,” he finished.

“I’m gonna go get some of that honey you were talking about. Though I might need your help finding the right cabinet.”

He watched you walk back into the house before following you; once inside he saw you reaching into a cabinet in the corner, but a big red bruise on your arm caught his attention.

Joel walked over to you and grabbed your arm. Confused, you tried to see what he was looking at to no avail.

“You got stung right here,” he said as if he read your mind. He started walking over to the correct cabinet.

Frowning, you lifted your arm before spotting the bump. “Weird. Didn’t even feel it.”

“S’normal,” he muttered.

He stepped in front you to lift you up underneath your arms and sit you on top of the kitchen island.

You carefully watched as he opened up a sealed mason jar and stood between your legs.

“Mmkay. Lift your arm up.”

You did as he told and tried not to grimace while he scraped the stinger out. Honestly you didn’t have to try too hard; he looked so good like this, taking good care of you. Focused and confident like he’d done this a million times. You were certain he had.

He dipped a finger into the jar and swiped a little honey over the bump, carefully rubbing it in and drifting his gaze to your eyes.

“Helps the itch,” he spoke. “You said you had one, right?”

“Think I’ve got a bigger itch,” you replied.

“Hmm. Where at?”

Biting your bottom lip you trailed a finger over your neck, finding your sweet spot and rubbing a small circle over it. “Here.”

Joel rubbed a some honey on your neck and lapped it up like a thirsty dog. He held back on sucking the skin, mindful that you might not be fond of hickeys.

“I get it?” His voice strained.

You hummed. “No… No it’s went down a little bit. Tryyy… Here.”

Your clavicle.

More honey. More licking.

“How ‘bout now?”

You took your shirt off revealing your breasts. “Try here, and here.”

Your breath shook when the cold liquid was smeared over your hardened nipples. Once he took the first one into his mouth you let a desperate breath and held the curve of his head in your palm, letting him have his way with your tits.

“Nope, still there,” you spoke once he pulled away.

His fingers found the button on your shorts, then the zipper.

“Damn itches,” he said, “they’re always so damn stubborn. Ain’t that right? S’okay. Think I have a remedy for that.”

Just like that your shorts and panties were off and his fingers scooped up some more honey—more than what was necessary for anything.

He bent down to your glistening pussy and lazily rubbed the honey all over. You’d be lying if you said that alone didn’t make that knot inside of you twist harder.

Joel’s tongue eagerly met your clit, and he didn’t bother wasting anymore time with teasing you. A gurgling moan left his mouth once he tasted your juices mixing with the honey, creating the perfect elixir for his tastebuds.

Your legs clamped around his head reactively but he was strong enough to force them apart and keep them open.

Whilst he sucked and pulled and lapped around your clit, your hands were reaching, searching for anything to grasp. As a result you ended up knocking over the jar and spilling its contents, but you were too dazed to give a fuck.

Somewhat annoyed with you flailing around like you’d never been eaten out before, Joel smacked the back of your thigh. You shuddered and calmed your body down, settling with pulling on his hair relentlessly since the force of his smack stung a little.

He preferred it that way; take your tension out on him. Make him hurt if it meant you felt good. It only stroked his ego.

His tongue slipped between your pussy lips and slurped up whatever it could, the vibrations making you cry out his name. He did it again and again and again and again and a-fucking-gain until he was certain you were screaming from an orgasm.

Joel moaned at your thick cum pouring out of your cunt and down his sticky chin, drinking up anything he wasn’t missing.

He only stopped when he figured you’d had enough and stood eye level with you while fumbling with his belt buckle.

“I think that itch got a little deeper now,” he cockily said, “wouldn’t you say?”

Your eyes were wide, pupils nearly blown, mouth agape, and chest heaving. “I think you can reach it just fine, Joel.”

Holding back a boastful laugh, he lined his erection up with your soft entrance and slid inside carefully.

“So pretty,” he whispered, “you look so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

You pulled his face in for a sloppy kiss, happily tasting the mixture of you and his honey. He noticed your hand was tacky from the spill and stuck a few fingers into his mouth, spreading the stickiness anywhere he could get it.

“Your cock,” you moaned into his chin. “So big.”

“It’s all yours, princess,” he moaned.

His hips pulled back and then snapped back into yours; his tip pressing into the deepest part of your pussy.

“Fuck. You get so fucking deep,” he praised. “S’it feel good, baby?”

“Yes,” you said against your will. “Oh my God, just like tha—fuck!”

Joel fucked you just the way you liked: fast, but not sloppily or too hard. He watched his cock disappear into you a dozen times, and he grew harder than he ever had before.

“You look so pretty with my cock inside. Such a dirty fucking girl,” he shouted over your moans. “You take it so well, baby.”

Joel felt the his orgasm begin to arrive so he pulled out and took a step back; you whined a bit and reached for him but you were already so sore.

Meanwhile he just undressed himself and laid you down on the marble countertop, climbing on top of you not long after.

“I hear you, baby,” he cooed. “You don’t need to beg… I’m gon’ take real good care a’you.”

You lazily smiled and wrapped your legs around his broad waist.

“There you go,” he whispered against your lips as he slid back into you, hearing your whines turn into moans. “There you go, sweetheart. I got you.”

He returned back to his original pace, only his hips thrusted harder into you. You felt every curve and vein along his cock, every inch he gave to you.

Your nails clawed at his back and feet dug into his hips. You reached for him in any way you could. His lips danced with yours as you drank each other’s honey-coated moans.

“Joel, fuck. Oh, Joel I’m gonna cum,” you admitted.

He felt your back arch off of the counter as if your tone was indicating enough.

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so well. I got you, I got you. Need you to look at me, darlin’, can you do that? Can ya look at me with those pretty eyes when you cum?”

You struggled to open your eyes, wanting to wilt up at the intensity building inside of you. But once you saw his eyes again you were hooked.

“Good girl,” he chuckled, wearing the proudest grin imaginable. “Doing such a good job, let it out sweetie. You can cum.”

“I’m cu—oh!”

“I know, babygirl. I can feel it. Let it out for me. Let it out for daddy.”

He watched and held you as you writhed from your orgasm; your skin was on fire, stomach fluttering with elation.

Joel loved the sound of your voice calling his name, so precious and shameless. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to make you his own, even if it had to be temporarily.

“Cum inside me,” you breathed out, feeling overstimulated and overstretched. “Need you to—ah.“

He leaned down for another kiss just when he began to cum inside, a feeling so raw and deep he hadn’t felt in years. He forgot how fucking good it felt, and savored it by pushing through every painful bit of the overstimulation.

Joel gave you a few more soft kisses and slowly got off of the island. He ran a hand over your thighs and watched you come down from your high.

“My hair is covered in honey,” you giggled.

“Let’s go wash you up. Maybe we can find a few more itches to scratch.”

#SORRY THIS IS KINDA RUSHED UMMM #pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #tlou smut

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what-even-is-thiss · 5 days

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I still occasionally get the sir uh no ma’am no sorry sir comments almost 6 years on T and a lot of people don’t get why that happens to me but what people don’t get is that most people out in the world aren’t like expecting to see trans people so if they catch sight of my bra line under my shirt or hear me talk slightly high pitched something short circuits in their brain as they try to rationalize that with the rest of my appearance.

I mean I pass the vast majority of the time. Even without binding or packing. But sometimes you’re gonna cause a little short circuit. And you know what? Usually the other person is the one embarrassed in that situation. Not you. For the most part with strangers what gender they think you are isn’t your problem. If you act like your gender should be obvious to them then they’re the ones who will be flustered. Not you.

Make a confused and slightly judgmental face at them or correct them like uh, sir like it’s obvious when they misgender you and that’ll take care of a lot of your problems, I’ve found.

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mionemymind · 15 days

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Blood Drive

Summary: While donating at a local blood drive, Y/n stumbles up the best nurse in town, Wanda Maximoff. Unable to get Wanda out of her mind, Y/n goes through a lengthy process just to ask her out.

Warnings: Fluff, Blood Donations, Passing Out, Needles, Happy Ending

A/n: Not gonna lie, I think it's somewhat getting easier to write kissing scenes but I still have to look at a tumblr post just to figure out the wording for it. Let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 4.0k

Masterlist

In an era of new politics, the Mayor of New York City declared that registered heroes of the city had to do mandated community service. This was a new mission to help build relationships between the regular folk of New York City and the heroes that harbor it. Because let’s be honest, having Hulk throw your new car at the enemy was not the best introduction for regular people.

Those who harbored powers relaying force or strength helped out in the trade industry. You’d often see super soldiers helping out in the demolition zone by crushing what was needed. Those with magic tried their best to help heal the homeless or aided at soup kitchens. Anywhere you can unconventionally help, the heroes did.

For Y/n, it was a lot of physically demanding tasks. Such as helping families move from apartment to apartment. Or helping police officers move accidents out of the way. Sometimes, she would even demonstrate how to safely carry a person through a burning building for the local firefighters.

Today, however, Y/n decided to do something different. Rather than focusing on the same physical tasks, she chose a simpler mundane task. “Hi there, are you here for the blood drive?” Y/n nodded in agreement to the receptionist upfront. “Just sign in for me right here. Have you filled out the online rapid pass?”

“Yes, I have the QR code screenshotted.” The receptionist smiled warmly. “Perfect. Someone will be with you soon. Please have a seat in our waiting area.”

Y/n walked towards the waiting room area. This was the fourth thing on her list of community service opportunities to try. She wasn’t quite sure if her blood was even allowed to be donated, having the super soldier serum in her surely could cause a reaction to a regular human.

After some tests back at the compound, the staff found everything to be okay. That’s how Y/n ended up in a place like this.

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Getting up from her seat, Y/n followed a nurse in red scrubs to a different area. “How are you today?”

“I’m good. I'm a little nervous. I’ve never done this before.” The nurse led them to a private part of a huge common room. Multiple stations were built throughout with various people donating blood. “It’s okay to be nervous, but the worst feeling you’ll get today is just a small prick.”

Y/n breathed out slightly in relief. “Let me first get your basic information.” The nurse had gone over Y/n’s personal information but was immediately flagged by the date of birth. “It says you were born on April 2, 1917. It must’ve been a typo.”

The nurse almost changed it to 1971. “Actually ma’am, that is the correct birth date.”

“So you mean to tell me you were born during World War I?” The nurse was unwilling to believe the joke that was being played. Y/n could immediately tell from the look she gave. “It was the Great War at the time, but yes ma’am I was born in 1917. I’m actually a super soldier.”

The nurse went back to her computer and typed in more information to store on Y/n’s file. “Ah - I see. I’m sorry about that. There’s already a note on your file. It looks like your director has already approved your donation today.”

Y/n sighed in relief, while she didn’t mind explaining to people her situation of being frozen for so long, it was strenuous trying to get them to understand it all. The rest of the consultation went along smoothly as she gathered the remaining information such as Y/n’s hemoglobin and her rapid pass.

“Alright dear, let’s get you to a bed.” The nurse led them back to the common area where all the beds were laid out. “Just sit right here for me, right now we currently have a special volunteer today that’s helping out with the drive. She’ll come over in a couple of seconds to help you out. But if you have any questions, please feel free to let us know.”

Y/n sat up on the reclined bed and looked at her phone. She scrolled through her messages to make sure nothing important was happening. The sound of someone clearing their throat gained her attention. “Y/n?” As Y/n looked up, she could physically feel the moment that time stopped again. Was it possible that she fell back into the ice again? Surely she would feel the same numbness as before. But it was all different. Because from just one look from this girl would be enough to melt all the ice away.

Y/n’s breath hitched as she locked eyes with her. “I- yes, that’s me.” Y/n cleared her throat, embarrassed at the lack of composure she had.

“Nice to meet you today. My name is Wanda Maximoff and I’ll be helping you with your blood donation today.” All Y/n could do was nod as she further realized that the woman in front of her was the Scarlet Witch.

Wanda looked through her notes on the clipboard. “It looks like it’s your first time donating, is that true?” Y/n’s eyes remained locked on Wanda. It was embarrassing how much she couldn’t look away. “Uh yes. It is.”

“Do you have a preference on which arm you would like to use today?” Y/n shook her head in disagreement. “No preference at all.”

Wanda wrote down more information when a note caught her eye. “S.H.I.E.L.D. approval - are you a member?” Wanda looked over at the young girl in front of her trying to see if she could remember the pretty face.

“I’m one of their new recruits. Only been active for three months.” And suddenly, Y/n seemed to never mind all the questions that Wanda could possibly ask. If it meant talking to her, Y/n would oblige.

“That’s great to hear. If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any powers that we should be aware of?”

“Well, I think you’re aware of my counterpart, Bucky Barnes. We both have a super soldier serum.” Wanda smiled at the mention of her old teammate/acquaintance.

“Interesting. How come I haven’t heard about you before?” Wanda couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow she had managed to miss this girl for three months.

Y/n scratched the back of her neck sheepishly. “You know how Steve was found in ice right?” Wanda nodded. “That’s basically the same situation I was in but rather than crashing into the arctic, I was in a freezer chamber. I’ve been awake for only ten months.” The shock on Wanda’s face was apparent.

“Sorry to keep asking,” Y/n never minded, “how has it been like adjusting back to the new life?” Y/n shrugged indifferently.

“A little rough. I do miss my friends back from my time, but Bucky has been trying his best to help me. However, he has been focused on helping the new Captain America, Sam?”

Wanda nodded, confirming that Y/n’s information was correct. “I do enjoy the fact that I’m no longer Hydra’s soldier though. More than anything, I’m just glad to have a second chance in life. Not a lot of people get that so I’m pretty thankful.”

Wanda digested Y/n’s words and was pretty enlightened at Y/n’s outlook on life. “Thank you for answering all my questions.”

“It’s no problem.”

“Now, let's get you set up to donate.” Wanda proceeded to bring out a couple of items from the nearby stand. On the table beside Y/n, Wanda placed various tubes and empty bags. Although it was nothing, the sight made Y/n feel slightly uncomfortable. It reminded her too much of Hydra’s labs but minus the dark atmosphere and torture that came with it.

As if sensing her discomfort, Wanda grabbed a disinfectant and started to disinfect Y/n’s left arm around the area inside her elbow. “Ya know, for being so nice and cooperative. How about you ask me a couple of questions? It makes the day go by faster.”

Bringing herself out of her internal thoughts, Y/n asked the first thing that came to mind. “You’re the Scarlet Witch, right?”

It was Wanda’s turn to blush. She hadn’t expected Y/n to recognize her so quickly, especially since she just got back to the real world. “I am.”

“I wasn’t aware that you could help with the American Red Cross as part of your community service.” Wanda grabbed a marker and a squeezable toy. She placed the toy in Y/n’s left hand stating, “Give me three big squeezes and hold on the last squeeze.”

While pressing around Y/n’s elbow, she continued with, “I had to do some training to get qualified. A lot of the people who use magic generally help in other areas.” Wanda marked a dot followed by a line. “You can stop squeezing now.”

“I’m gonna disinfect one more time and then I’ll have to poke you. Are you scared of needles?” Feeling more embarrassed, Y/n looked away as she said, “Yes.”

“All good. Just means I’ll have to give you a small distraction.” Wanting to distract herself even more, Y/n asked, “Why did you decide to do this rather than something in your wheelhouse?”

Wanda thought about it before replying with, “I like the normalcy of it. On the plus side, it feels more rewarding. Like I’m actually earning my community time rather than going the easy way of using my powers.” As Wanda finished disinfecting, she blew on Y/n’s elbow hoping it would dry fast.

“When I give you the go-ahead, I’ll have to ask you to give me three more squeezes and hold on to the last one, okay?” Y/n nodded and waited for the signal.

“And - go.” Y/n did as told, but as she did her last squeeze and held, red wispy magic flowed in front of her morphing into swirls in the air. “Woah.” She followed the magic with her eyes, not even noticing that Wanda had already poked her and started the transfusion.

“Should be about 10 minutes. Every couple of seconds give the toy a small squeeze to keep it going.” Y/n glanced away from the magic amazed with Wanda. “That didn’t even hurt.” For the first time in Y/n’s life, she didn’t scream when the needles came.

Wanda couldn’t help but keep the magic up for a little longer. The dopey look on Y/n’s face was something she didn’t want to go away.

“I told you I would distract you.” Y/n was at a loss of words. Her brain jumbled for anything but all she could focus on was that Wanda Maximoff successfully distracted her. She had a natural caring heart, something the media failed to show.

“Your magic is beautiful by the way.” Y/n savored the last few seconds of it before it completely disappeared.

Wanda’s magic has been called many things in life, powerful, destructive, and manipulative but none have ever said beautiful…till now. “Thank you Y/n.”

There was a small silence as Wanda stayed to make sure Y/n was okay. “I’ll be assisting other volunteers, but if you start to feel like you're fainting, just call me over, okay?”

“I will.” Would it have been wrong to immediately fake an injury just to get Wanda back? Possibly but Y/n weighed the consequences and none could compare to her. So as Wanda left, Y/n used her free hand to call Bucky. After a couple of rings, he picked up the phone. “Hey, Y/n.”

Getting straight to the point, “Is Wanda Maximoff single?”

“Uhh - I think so. She and this synthezoid, Vision, used to date but I believe they broke up a year ago. Why do you ask?” Y/n looked at Wanda who was across the room. Her radiant smile could be spotted from miles away. “Just wanting to gather intel. Thanks Bucky.”

Y/n hung up the phone, not caring about what Bucky had to say back. Her eyes lingered back to Wanda. No matter how much she distracted herself with her phone, her eyes always glanced back on Wanda Maximoff. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail and all she wore was matching red scrubs. But everything about her looked and felt beautiful.

Little did Y/n know, Wanda was admiring her too.

The blood donation was soon over, quicker than Y/n anticipated. Wanda had already come over, stopped the machine, and disconnected the line from Y/n’s arm. She taped a cotton ball on top of the area she poked and proceeded to wrap a red bandage around Y/n’s elbow. “You keep this red bandage on for two hours and the cotton ball for four hours.”

Wanda grabbed a pamphlet that had Y/n’s personal information and gave it to her. “Don’t miss a single meal for the next eight weeks. Make sure to drink plenty of water as well. If you feel dizzy in the next couple of hours, be sure to call this number, okay?”

Y/n nodded. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment, trying to find ways to ask Wanda Maximoff out. “Do you have any questions for me though?”

Y/n opened her mouth, wanting to ask her, “Are you busy after this?” But nothing came out. And the more she tried to say words, the more silence that remained.

“Wanda!” The pair turned to the employee that shouted her name. “I have someone that needs your help after you're done with your current volunteer.”

“Understood.” Wanda looked back at Y/n. “We have snacks and shirts over there but I think you should be good now. Thank you for donating today.”

As Wanda walked off, Y/n couldn’t help but beat herself up for not asking. She took a couple snacks and juice boxes before walking out of the donation center.

Was Y/n in love? Not quite yet. Infatuated? Probably. It was the best explanation as to why she was back at the blood drive the very next day. The brown eyed girl paced around all night trying to think of ways to see Wanda again. And the very first realistic idea she thought of was to donate blood again.

The super soldier practically begged the compound to give her another approval to donate blood stating that her super serum allowed for faster recovery. When no one could argue with her logic, they allowed a special approval to donate so soon.

So when Y/n followed all the same directions, all the same questions, she was met with disappointment when she didn’t see the redhead that captured her mind. “Hi, my name is Lucy and I’ll be helping you today.”

As Lucy proceeded to set up, Y/n couldn’t help but ask, “Is Wanda Maximoff here today?”

The blonde shook her head with a small smile. “I’m sorry dear. She’s not going to be here today.” Y/n couldn’t hold back the frown that escaped. It was stupid to think that Wanda would come back the very next day, but she had hope.

And as much as Y/n wanted to ask when she’ll be back, she knew the blood center wouldn’t give out information like that. Regardless, Y/n was determined. She was going to see Wanda again.

It was a new month and a new day. Although Y/n was glad to help a good cause, her hope waned as each day passed with no Wanda. By now, everyone in the blood center knew Y/n by name. On the bright side, the other volunteers were not bad to talk to but none compared to her.

So as Y/n sat down once again, she scrolled on her phone, expecting much disappointment. Until the voice that captured her heart called her name. “Y/n?”

She looked up from her phone and saw that familiar smile that was ingrained in her head. “Wanda.” Y/n couldn’t hold her smile back as she finally saw the girl that she’s been begging to see.

“Looks like you’re here for you…18th donation? Look at you being a star citizen.” Y/n blushed knowing that those donations were mainly for something else. “I think by now you should know the drill. Are there any concerns you may have?”

Wanda looked back at Y/n, ready to disinfect her arm. “I-” Y/n’s brain short circuited at the feeling of Wanda’s hands on her arm. It was like everything that she wanted to say suddenly left her brain. But the feeling was just on the tip of her tongue.

“You know, they should give you a badge or something for donating so much. I didn’t even know that was possible. Didn’t you start donating like last month?” Again, not a single thought formulated in Y/n’s head when all she could focus on was how soft Wanda’s hands were. Because if Y/n was able to focus, she would be able to say that her donation was 17 days, 13 hours, and 5 minutes ago. But who was counting?

Wanda looked back at Y/n’s chart to confirm her suspicions. “Are you still scared of needles though?” And that’s when Y/n finally got back into the real world. For all the times she’s been back, she’s had to look away from the needle while using a nearby pillow to control her nerves.

“I think I might need your magic again.” Y/n blushed at the request but felt proud at the smug look that came from Wanda. “I might have to start charging you for the show.”

With sudden blind confidence, Y/n asked, “Let me take you out on a date in return.” Wanda almost missed the vein at Y/n’s sudden question. She had an inkling that the girl liked her but never expected her to actually pursue her thoughts.

“You didn’t even need it.” Y/n looked down and saw that Wanda had poked her without realizing it.

“Does that mean you won’t go?” Wanda looked at the time on the clock and smiled at Y/n.

“It actually means you have three hours till my shift is up.” Wanda patted Y/n’s arm, reminding her to squeeze the ball in her hand. “So pick me up then. How should I dress?”

“Something casual. I hadn’t really planned out what I was going to do after you said yes.” Wanda blushed at the idea of Y/n practicing this moment.

“How about this? You and I walk around New York. I don’t think the guys have given you much of a good tour. So I’ll tell you all about the new New York and you tell me about the old New York.”

“You have a deal.”

Wanda and Y/n were in the back seat of an uber. The small date was something Y/n never wanted to end but the lack of energy made it hard to keep up. So when Y/n asked if it could be an early night, she was relieved that Wanda wasn’t mad at her.

Right now, the uber was at a stoplight and the two hardly spoke as their shoulders touched.

“Can I hold your hand?” Y/n whispered as she lightly placed her hand above Wanda’s. The small smile was hard to miss on Wanda’s face. She could feel Y/n’s internal battle to ask her that. She leaned into Y/n’s ear and whispered, “You don’t even have to ask,” and pressed a small kiss on Y/n’s cheek as they interlaced hands.

A small blushed and a wide grin appeared on Y/n’s face. “I hope you had fun today.” Looking away, Y/n yawned into her hand.. “You tired dekta?”

Looking back at her, Y/n tilted her head in confusion. “Dekta? What does that mean?” Wanda blushed more. She hadn’t meant to call Y/n that, but it left her lips so easily. Like it was second nature.

“I’ll tell you later,” Wanda placed her left hand on Y/n’s bicep and gave it a small squeeze, “Aren’t you supposed to be a super soldier? It's barely past 10 pm and you’re already tired.” Y/n scratched the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed at how tired she was. But all Wanda could focus on was the feeling of Y/n’s muscles as she gave one more squeeze.

Y/n yawned again, unable to fight the sleep that took over her body. “It’s what happens when you donate blood every day to try and see a pretty girl.” They hadn’t even kissed but Wanda could’ve sworn she was in love. The dopey smile on Y/n’s face would make any girl’s heart melt. The red head mentally thanked that it was her that Y/n was looking at and nobody else.

“You did that for me?” Y/n could think of many things she would do for Wanda, rescue a billion people, punch a hole in the moon, even kidnap someone. Regardless of how unrealistic it was, Wanda Maximoff was worth changing the tides on Earth. So how could someone so wonderful could ever question that someone would do something for her attention?

“I wanted to see you again.” Y/n bit her inner cheek, trying her best to stay calm but all she could think about was how soft Wanda’s lips looked.

The red head hadn’t meant to hear that thought, but she was glad she did. She bit her lip wishing that Y/n would just kiss her already. But something about the way they stared into each other's eyes was already enough for her to feel alive. And for someone so sober, her body grew drunk at the touch of Y/n.

“So you donated blood to see me?” It was still all unbelievable to Wanda but Y/n would tell her a million times until she believed it.

Their eyes interlocked causing Wanda’s breathing to hitch. She swore she could look into those brown eyes forever. “18 pints and counting.” Y/n couldn’t hold back her grin as Wanda looked away, unable to hold back her wide smile.

Y/n gave a gentle squeeze in their interlaced hands as Wanda turned back to face Y/n. “You’re gonna get yourself sick if you keep donating.” Wanting to focus on something else, Y/n caressed Wanda’s cheek as she tucked a loose strand back.

Not wanting her touch to go away, Wanda placed her hand above Y/n’s. So many thoughts ran through both of their heads. Wanda could feel the weight inside Y/n’s mind but didn’t dare to peak.

“Tell me what you’re thinking…”

“...I think you’re really pretty,” Y/n admitted in secret.

“What else?” Y/n rubbed her thumb gently across Wanda’s cheek.

“I think I want to take you out on a second date.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And I…I think I want to kiss you.” Wanda swallowed all the nerves in her chest.

“...I’d really like that…” And as brown eyes looked at greens eyes one more time, Y/n slowly leaned in and kissed Wanda. There was no rush with each kiss, something Wanda never experienced before. All she could remember was the sloppy kisses and fast make outs. But something about kissing Y/n slowly drove heart mad because how dare she live this long without being kissed like this.

And as they kissed, their hands never broke apart, instead, they gave gentle squeezes with every kiss. And when slowly pulled apart, Wanda knew then she was love sick.

Bonus

“Let me get this straight,” Bucky rubbed his forehead, feeling the headache coming forth, “Y/n passed out from kissing you?”

“Well, the kissing didn’t help but she also donated 18 pints of blood in the last three weeks.” Wanda looked at Y/n’s sleeping figure. Her head rested comfortably on Wanda’s lap.

Bucky sighed. “Okay, I’ll meet you at her place.”

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#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #fluff #Blood Drive #mionemymind #wanda maximoff fluff

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natalievoncatte · 2 months

Text

Lena didn’t have time for traffic. She looked up from her phone and glared at the back of her driver’s head.

“Frank, why is it taking so long?”

“I’m not Frank, Ma’am. He called out this morning.”

Lena sighed. “And your name?”

“Vincent, ma’am.”

“Vincent, why is this taking so long?”

He signed. “Traffic, ma’am. Sounds like there’s a few blocks downtown closed. Supergirl is fighting some monster or alien or something.”

Lena stopped herself from smiling softly. “Ah, well then. Anyway, might as well see if you can find us a way around. I just don’t like to stand still.”

The driver nodded.

“What do you think about Supergirl, ma’am?”

Lena sighed. “Forgive me, Vincent, but I do have some work to concentrate on, here. I’m not usually one for chitchat. I hope you don’t mind.”

She sank back into her seat and flicked to the next email. There were a lot of fires to put out. Upcoming product launches, grant applications, university partnerships, charity events, plus her own work. She was becoming so strained lately that she was seriously considering stepping down from the direct CEO role so she could spend more time in the lab, where her real passion was.

Sometimes she almost sympathized with Lex; the life of a CEO could easily drive someone insane. Lena would rather spend her days in a labcoat or doing charity work than listening to another entitled silver spoon-

“You’re going the wrong way,” Lena said, sharply.

“I’m finding a way around,” said the driver. “You know, you never answered my question, before. What do you think of Supergirl?”

Lena stuffed her phone in her pocket and thrust her hand in her jacket, freeing the concealed revolver she carried in a shoulder holster under her left arm. The partition was already going up, sealing her in.

“What are you doing?”

“Answer my question,” the driver said, through a speaker.

Lena swallowed hard. “I think she’s a hero but I don’t fully trust her. I work with her when I feel it will help people. That’s all.”

“That’s not what your mother thinks.”

“Isn’t it?” said Lena. “What does she think?”

“Are you fucking her?”

Lena barked out a laugh. “Are you serious? That’s her question?”

“Are you fucking her like you debased yourself with that little tart in boarding school?”

There was silent beat.

“She told me to say that. She made me practice saying ‘tart’.”

He sounded almost bored.

“Fuck you,” Lena snapped. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it.”

“Nothing personal,” said the driver.

Lena sighed, almost annoyed at the hiss as a thin, chemical smelling gas hissed into the car, rising around her. She forced herself to stay calm, stoic, even her pulse raced.

“I’m not afraid of you, or her,” said Lena.

She coughed twice as the world irises shut around her, dragging her down into a cold, dreamless sleep.

When she snapped awake, she was alone. The partition was open, but the gun was gone from her holster. She felt around for it, then decided to clamber into the front seat, rolling over the seats facing her. The driver was gone, of course. Heavy chains were padlocked around the car, pinning the front doors shut.

There was a tape recorder sitting on the front seat. Lena ignored it as she looked around. The car was surrounded by metal walls, and a creep sense of dread rose up Lena’s spine. She fought the panic down, dropping into the driver’s seat.

Placing the tape deck on the dash, she pushed the okay button.

“Hello, Lena,” Lilian said, in her smooth, posh tones. Lena could hear that smarmy smirk forming around her words.

“You’re probably expecting an ultimatum or an offer. There will be none. I’m through trying to bring my husband’s wayward bastard back into the fold. When you betrayed Lex again, you burned your last chance. It’s time to take out the trash, Lena. I wish I could have throttled you in the cradle, but I didn’t know about you and your mother until it was too late. It’s time to correct that. It’s too bad we won’t be there to watch.”

Watch what?

Lena sat and waited. Whoever was sent to murder her had no sense of dramatic timing. She began rifling through the car, trying to take stock of what she had, what she could use to effect an escape. Breaking the-

A sharp shriek of metal cut through her thoughts. The side walls inched forward with a screech of metal, and Lena froze, terror piercing through her like an icy spike.

Oh.

Oh God.

The walls moved slightly more, and the rear view mirrors on both sides of the car exploded. The mechanism pushing the walls strained and groaned, and that was the only mercy she had.

She was in a car crusher. In the car.

The armored structure of her town car was too heavy for the machine to simply crush, but she had minutes at most. Metal groaned in protest, shrieking around her, and the glass quivered in the doors.

Oh God. Oh God.

She wasn’t going to panic. She wasn’t going to panic. She ripped open every single compartment and cubby she could find, but found only monogrammed glassware and a bottle of champagne. There was nothing.

A random, forgotten Lexosuit would be really useful right about now.

With a sudden shriek, the car began to collapse. The bulletproof glass buckled and shattered, pelting the front seat as she rolled into the back, and the doors buckled in, tearing loose from their hinges as the floor and roof began to fold.

A sudden, ringing, frankly stupid thought came into her head, but it was her best play.

Lena Luthor filled her lungs. She took in the biggest, deepest breath of her life, a breath worthy of a championship deep diver, and screamed at the top of her lungs, until it hurt.

“SUPERGIRL!”

She had to scramble into the back seat as the engine began pushing through the dashboard, ripping apart plastic and leather, splintering buried wood. Lena ducked as the roof crumpled and dove in, like the roof of a dragon’s mouth crushing down to pulp her. She closed her eyes and curled in on herself, hoping it would at least be over fast.

A single ringing thought bit through the fear.

Oh God. Kara’s waiting for me at the restaurant.

Around her metal shrieked, and she heard the vast clang of rending machinery. The inexorable crushing stopped, the bucking limousine going still. Lena opened her eyes, peering through her fingers like a terrified child, and watched in awe as one of the crushed plates tore loose from its moorings and went flying off into the afternoon air.

Hands, strangely delicate, punched through armor plating as if it were cobwebs and ripped the broken shell of Lena’s limo apart, spreading it in every direction.

Lena had never seen Supergirl so panicked. Her eyes were too wide with abject terror, and she seized Lena in her arms, winding her cape around her, and rocketed loose from the car.

Lena’s words were lost to the wind. Supergirl was blasting into the air, flying incredibly fast- too fast. Helpless, she clung to the hero for dear life, feeling woozy as the blood drained from her skull.

She thought, oh, come on, as she passed out again.

When her eyes drifted open, Lena was lying on the ground. Groaning, she sat up slowly, feeling every movement, and realized she’d been lying on a spread red blanket with her suit jacket piled up under her head for a pillow, and she was in the woods. The sun had yielded to the sky, and someone had started a roaring fire a few feet away.

Grateful for the warmth, Lena edged closer. As she did, she realized that she was sitting not on a blanket but on Supergirl’s cape.

Blinking, she looked around.

Supergirl had her back to a tree, curled up on herself with her head hanging between her knees, arms wrapped around to cover her face, and she was sobbing quietly. Lena stared, open-mouthed.

“Supergirl?” she breathed.

Supergirl didn’t respond. Lena rose to her feet, wobbling, and discarded her heels before walking across a bed of soft leaves. She crouched in front of the weeping Kryptonian, stunned when the other woman flinched.

“Supergirl?”

“Lena?”

Her voice was small and soft, all the bravado and righteous authority gone. She sounded strangely human.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“I think I am,” said Lena. “What about you? Are you hurt?”

“No,” she sniffed. “A Tauraxian hit me in the head with a greyhound bus. Tuesday afternoon at the office.”

Lena laughed softly, and sat down. “I’m sure. What just happened?”

Supergirl swallowed hard as she looked up. “I panicked. I saw what was happening and I lost control. I’m lucky I didn’t hurt you.”

Lena put a tentative hand in on her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“More than you realize,” Supergirl sighed.

“I’m here,” said Lena.

She sat down. Supergirl looked away from her, staring I to the fire a few feet away. In starlight, with the firelight caressing her delicate features and sparkling in her blue eyes, it was impossible to miss how hauntingly beautiful she was… and how haunted herself. Supergirl looked older than her years, a deep sorrow in her eyes that Lena had never seen before.

“I’m claustrophobic,” Supergirl explained. “Not the kind of thing that you advertise.”

“We all have our fears. I have some of my own.”

Lena pushed down thoughts of a pale hand sliding beneath churning black water and shuddered.

With teary eyes, Supergirl looked at her.

“I can’t. I can’t have fears. I’m Supergirl. I have to be perfect, set an example, all that crap. I’m the perfect woman who came from the sky to do only good.”

The perfect woman, Lena thought, consuming the firelit beauty before her. No one would debate that.

Well, Lena would, maybe. There was someone more perfect, someone soft and kind with a devastating smile and laughing eyes tinged with strange sorrow. She hoped Kara wasn’t worrying about her.

It was funny how Lena always thought of Kara when Supergirl was around. Guilt, maybe. Foolish guilt; Kara was a far shore that Lena would never reach, even if she’d gladly sink in the attempt.

“Before I came to Earth, I drifted in the phantom zone in my pod. There were things outside. The pod was the size of a coffin, a tiny space to spend all that time. The phantoms would claw and slash at the canopy and the walls. I was awake for days hearing them trying to get in. Sometimes there were bigger things out there, wrapping arms around it and trying to crush their way in.”

Lena nodded. “That sounds beyond terrible. It’s okay for you to be scared after that.”

Supergirl nodded. “I can barely handle elevators sometimes.”

A jolt went through Lena, something familiar, like a word on the tip of her brain.

“I get scared when other people are enclosed, too,” said Supergirl. “When I saw something trying to crush you, I just lost it. It’s different when it’s you.”

Lena swallowed hard, trying to suppress the shiver that coursed through her body and made the small hairs on her arms stand on end.

“Back in high school, the other girls used to bully me,” said Supergirl. Once, they locked me in a closet in the locker room. I screamed and screamed until until someone let me out. Alex was furious, she…”

Supergirl went quiet, trailing off. Her eyes went wide and she jolted back.

Lena sat there for a second, unsure why…

Wait.

Alex?

High school? Supergirl went to high school?

With Alex? Alex Danvers?

Lena choked down a gasp, the wheels whirling in her head. She looked over and met Supergirl’s eyes, studying them. Her. The way the light played across her soft features, her honey hair, the little scar above her eye.

“Hi, Lena.”

“Hi, Kara,” Lena whispered.

Neither of them moved. Lena wondered briefly if Kara had ever planned to tell her, how she might have planned it. Probably not like this. Her throat bobbed.

Lena shifted closer, until they were hip to hip in a seated hug, Kara crying softly on Lena’s shoulder, powerful arms wrapped around her.

“I was scared,” said Lena. “I was afraid I was going to die and you’d be sitting at the table at the restaurant waiting for me.”

“Never,” said Kara. “I’ll always protect you.”

“And I’ll always protect you. Nobody is ever going to shove my Kara in a closet ever again.”

Kara let out a little gasp.

“Can we stay here for a while? Talk? Just you and me?”

Kara nodded. She stood and gathered up her cape as Lena moved close to the fire, and sat down, wrapping it around them both. Lena let her head fall on Kara’s shoulder.

“This makes a nice blanket.”

“It is a blanket. My cousin was swaddled in it when he came to Earth. Don’t worry, I washed it.”

Lena laughed softly, awkwardly trying to decide where to put her hands. She settled on being bold, and put her arm around Kara’s waist. Kara slipped her arms around her shoulder and pulled her in, and Lena hugged her back, tucking herself into Kara’s shoulder.

They sat for a while as the fire burned down low. It was full dark and the fire was nothing but coals.

“I was going to tell you. I wanted to.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Okay,” Kara sighed.

Lena swallowed hard, trying not to feel her blood rushing in her ears.

“You know,” she said. “You could kiss me right now, if you wanted. That seems like the kind of thing the hero does after saving the girl.”

“I could?” said Kara.

“You could.”

“Like this?”

Kara was trying to be smooth, and it made it hard for Lena not to giggle. She tipped Lena’s chin up with soft fingers and guided herself in, bringing their lips together. Kara kissed her softly, tentatively. Lena kissed her back just as softly, afraid this moment would shatter if she pressed too hard.

It was easy to shift herself into Kara’s lap, even before Kara lifted her there. Lena knew she was strong but not Kryptonian strong, and it it sent a thrill through her. She liked it.

She liked touching Kara, too. Liked feeling the bunching muscles flex under under hands, the softness of her hair, the way she gasped when she felt Lena’s lips on her throat.

“Never have I wished so badly for a tent and sleeping bags,” said Lena.

“And marshmallows to toast!” said Kara.

“Do you ever stop thinking about food?” Lena giggled.

Kara looked at her intently, and Lena shivered, not from the cold. She’d longed for Kara to see her like that, look at her like that.

“Sometimes,” Kara whispered. “Sometimes I think about other things.”

“We should probably go back,” said Lena. “We have people who are probably looking for us.”

Kara nodded.

“Do you want this to be… do you want us to be?”

“Kara,” said Lena, “I would have asked you out a year ago if I thought I had a chance. I thought you just wanted to be friends.”

Kara swallowed. “Are you saying you want to be my girlfriend?”

Lena smiled softly. “Yes.”

Kara rose and clasped her cape to her shoulders, then gently brought Lena to her feet and lifted her from the ground, holding her close.

“Not so fast this time, okay?”

“Okay,” said Kara, lifting them back into the sky.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #campfire confession #accidental identity reveal #softcorp

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luocha-lovr · 10 days

Text

⌗ baby boys。

❛ OR :: what a mommy kink does to your boys.

❛ CONTAINS :: afab! reader; no fem pronouns used but feminine pet names and genitalia are used. cock-warming. handjobs. edging. gentle femdom. MINORS DNI but if you're a minor and choose to read anyway, that's on you.

AVENTURINE 砂金

“Wait, please, I— mmh!”

He’s not sure how he even got here. One minute he’s playing a game of poker in Aideen Park with a bunch of what’s-their-names and the other, he’s losing everything he’s bet and more.

Maybe he’s drunk one too many bottles of SoulGlad during that bet. His sight’s way too blurry now, but somehow you’re the only clarity in his vision, the sight of you on your knees and stroking his cock sobering him up a little. This was the condition you’d placed when you placed your bet back at the poker table, and maybe— just maybe— he’s glad that you were the one claiming victory against his first loss.

“So,” you start in a lazy drawl, and Aventurine gulps at the tone of your voice. Your hand stops at the base of his cock, preventing his release with a smile just as lazy. “You’re an Avgin, correct?”

Aventurine pauses.

“What’s an Av—”

“A yes or no is all I need, pretty boy,” you interrupt, not quite realizing Aventurine was raring to cum the moment you called him that. Or maybe you did. He doesn’t know.

A sigh and a beat passes before he nods, “Yes, ma’am.”

“I knew it,” you chuckle, “such pretty cock and tantalizing eyes could only belong to an Avgin.”

The smile that lifts the corners of your mouth makes his breath hitch. He probably should be wary of how you know he’s an Avgin, but the only thing on his mind right now is that you praised him for his answer regardless of his background. He could feel the hairs on his arms stand at attention. No way is it legal to be as pretty as you are.

And then you start pumping his cock again and, fuck, does he absolutely love the drag of your soft palm against the skin of his cock, unable to keep himself from spurting out little drops of pre. It gets on your lips, and Aventurine struggles to even babble out an apology before you’re licking it off and smacking your lips like you were sampling his taste.

“It’s okay, dearest,” you tell him in that tender voice that gets him so weak in the knees, thankful that he’s seated; otherwise he’d just fall flat on his ass. “You taste as divine as you look.”

Fuck.

That was it.

What started off as small spurts of pre became a steady flow of cum as his vision blurs and his ears ring, just the sound of your voice bringing him further into ecstasy. This— this— is the kind of dream he doesn’t wanna wake up from; the sight of you kissing on his cum-stained cock, languid movements of your hand continuing to milk him dry.

“Mommy, please, I can— Nng-hah..!” he struggles to even form a coherent thought, somehow so overstimulated despite you not even putting in that much effort. Realization hits him far too late, that he’d called you mommy, and he’s panic-stricken for a moment as he tries to find his words.

Your hand comes to a stop and you pull your mouth away from his cock. Your grip maintains, and for a moment, he’s soothed by the gentle caress of your fingers against his balls. His breath shakes, and he’s almost hypnotized by the way the golden light of this hotel room makes his cum look like gloss on your lips.

“It’s okay, dearest,” you tell him again, and it feels as though there was more intent to your words this time. Aventurine blinks. You like being called mommy?

It’s a silent question, and you give him a silent answer. If you held him by the cock any tighter than that, he was never waking up from this dream.

Slowly, you’d begin to pump his cock once more, waking it from its brief respite. He could only throw his head back, veins along his length pulsating gently, like a steady heartbeat. He doesn’t even know your name, but by the looks of things, you weren’t even gonna give him that much.

Something about you is so cruel yet so kind, so warm yet so cold, so close yet so far— but if there’s anything a man like him likes, it’s a high-stakes challenge.

He’ll admit he lost the bet, but scoring someone like you is already victory unlike any other.

JING YUAN 景元

“Lock the door on your way out.”

“Yes, General.”

The door shuts and its lock clicks in place as a Cloud Knight leaves the office, finished with their reports for the day. A shaky sigh of relief escapes Jing Yuan, as though he’d been holding his breath, waiting for the Cloud Knight to leave the entire time.

How could he not when you were sitting so comfortably in his lap, smiling at whoever comes in as if you weren’t squeezing down on his cock? He could feel your thighs quiver with excitement with each person that came in, hoping not to get caught in such a risque position. He’s been edged more times today than a year or two ago, and as sexy you are right now, he’d really love nothing more than to have his sweet release already.

“Baby, please. I need you to take the ring off,” he gasps out weakly, his grip on the armrests of his seat nearly enough to break them off. He can’t even see your face— you refuse to show him— and he’s getting far too desperate to even care about his silly pride as he begs for you.

He can’t see the twitch of your lips as they curve into a cheeky smile, but he knows; knows you better than anyone, knows you better than he knows himself. It’s a curse that imprints the image of you in his brain, cheeks all rosy and lashes fluttering with each squeeze of your walls. It’s even worse when you chuckle at him and shake your hips in the figure eight, almost mocking him.

“Five more minutes,” you tell him, and he’s reminded of the silly rule he established for both you and himself.

No fucking before 8pm.

Before 8pm, he is the General of the Cloud Knights, to guard the Luofu from all danger. Before 8pm, he is the Divine Foresight, to guide disciples and train their minds. All of those titles and responsibilities vanish the moment 8pm strikes, for after 8pm, he is nothing but a husband, a lover, and a toy— all for you.

Five minutes feel like an eternity, and that says a lot given his immortality. He’d always been a patient man, so understanding and kind, but he could never hold himself back when you’re involved. Oh how his hands twitched, itching to grab a hold of your hips and just…

He shifts his hips— forward, then to the left, then to the right, then forward again— trying as much as he can to bury himself inside of you while being as discreet about it as possible. If he tried a little bit more, he could—

His thought process is interrupted by the tightness around his cock slowly dissipating, all warmth leaving as you stood from his lap and pulled your underwear back up. Just one glance at him and you could see the utter defeat in his eyes, afraid he’d never be able to be satisfied by cumming from his own hands rather than with your pretty pussy at night.

If you really wanted to, you could make him cry like this.

“Wait! Mommy, I’m sorry,” he stammers, taking your wrist in his hand. The look in your eyes as you turned to face him tells him enough; you knew he was trying to fuck you before 8pm struck. The poor man was so guilty he hadn’t even realized it was 8:02pm already.

Technically, he hadn’t broken any rules.

The delighted laugh you let out is music to his ears and he perks up like some big dog. “Baby, I was going to suck your cock,” you tell him, going down on your knees like you were proving your intentions. Jing Yuan feels dumb for a moment. How could he have doubted you?

He isn’t even able to wallow in his self-pity. What replaces the warmth of your pussy is the warmth of your mouth, your tongue flat along the underside of his cock. “Thank you,” he all but whispers. Somehow he still has half the mind to remember that he was in his office; anyone could come knocking.

Slender fingers and careful touches keep the hairs on his arms standing. Each time he thinks you’d release him from the confines of his cock ring, you pull your fingers away and take him deeper in your mouth. It’s a different kind of torture that he’s not sure if he hates or loves, though a part of him does like it just because it’s you.

Each drag of your lips along the shaft of his cock drives him mad with need— need to cum, need to fuck his hips into your mouth. But he knows he can’t, not when you’re so nice to take care of him at work.

“Mommy, please,” he pleads, golden eyes peering down at you as you make a mess of lipstick stains and spit bubbles. He’s trying way too hard to hold back his moans, though with not much success.

You only shake your head at him, chiding his impatience. In all truth, he’s just far too cute begging for you like this. “Just a bit longer,” you reply with a mouthful of cock and pre, eyes glazed over as his dick pulsates in your mouth.

Shivers run down his spine and goosebumps litter his skin. His breaths come out in quick bursts and he can’t help but slump against his chair when you smile at him. He’s pretty sure his moans could be heard in the next office over, but really, could he care? He’s convinced he already came, but the lack of cum in your mouth was rather upsetting until he realizes he still has the ring on.

The smile on your face tells him you still aren’t done just yet and, frankly, he’s in it for the long ride anyway.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ISH's notes ::

📌 what better way to celebrate aventurine's official release than writing him a handjob fic am i right?

📌 experimenting on blog styles rn. it's been a hot while. tell me how this one looks!

📌 STILL working on a taglist so just hmu if you wanna be tagged. also i may not be taking requests but i certainly am taking asks. im dying for some moots to gush with.

ish | 2024. no plagiarizing, reworking, or reposting this work on other sites.

#ᯓᡣ𐭩 lovr's #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr aventurine #hsr jing yuan #honkai star rail aventurine #honkai star rail jing yuan #aventurine x reader #jing yuan x reader #fem reader #aventurine x you #jing yuan x you #aventurine smut #jing yuan smut

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littledovesnow · 3 months

Text

a growing family | part 4

a/n: the finale!!!! i had so much fun with this mini series, i hope you love it!

warnings: childbirth (but traumatic), idk... hospitals? inaccurate medical stuff (i worked in a hospital but i don't know shit about medicine!!!!)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

-----

Following a few Peacekeepers back to the train, you and Coriolanus talked softly about the conclusion of the tour.

“How did you like to see my old stomping grounds?” He asked, referring to the quick stop you two had made in the Hob so you could use the restroom.

“It certainly looks like the place that could draw a crowd.” You smiled, thanking the Peacekeeper as he helped you into the train.

Coriolanus walked dutifully as you more-so waddled down the aisle to the private car. “Are you feeling okay?”

He had noticed you taking more breaks while walking, discomfort on your face.

Nodding, you toed off your shoes and lounged with your feet on the opposite bench, letting your husband rub them once more. “Just ready to get these babies out of me. I feel like a beached whale.”

Coriolanus laughed, looking out the window as the train began the two-day journey back to the Capitol. “I’m sure they’re excited to be out in the world, have more space to move.”

You snorted, letting your head roll back and lean against the plush booth. “How long do you think we have until they come?”

“A couple more weeks, I hope. It’s still a little early.” Coriolanus chuckled as you let out a moan when he got a particularly rough knot out of your foot. “What are you thinking for dinner tonight, my love?”

You two continued the conversation while you both watched the trees go by, content in your last days alone.

-----

The following morning, you woke before your husband, smile coming to your face when you saw the Capitol’s skyline in the distance.

Slowly rising from the bed, you paused for a moment when the world went off-kilter.

You stood and walked over to the exit of the private car, moving into the dining one for something to drink, never understanding why your mouth was so dry when traveling on the train.

“Goodmorning, ma’am. How are you feeling?” A Peacekeeper asked, soft smile on his face as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Tired. How about yourself?” You replied, eying the mug of coffee with envy.

You two kept a quiet conversation until the door opened once more, Coriolanus entering the car.

“You could’ve woken me; I would’ve gotten you something to drink.” He chastised, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

Rolling your eyes, you smiled as the Peacekeeper left to give you and Coriolanus some privacy. “Coryo, I’m going to be holed up in a bed for weeks in a few days, let me get movement while I still can.”

Coriolanus tsked as he looked over what would be served for breakfast shortly, smile coming to his face when you pulled his free hand into your own, fiddling with his wedding band. “How are the babies doing?”

Shrugging, you looked out the window as the snow-capped mountains drew nearer. “They’re getting anxious, certainly hope they’re both in the correct position now.”

Coriolanus chewed on his lip as he hummed in agreement, not wanting you to experience surgery if it could be avoided. “We shall see, you’re meeting with the doctor the day after tomorrow, correct?”

Nodding, you sipped the tea that was placed in front of you. “Unless I go into labor beforehand.”

The elephant in the room was finally mentioned, and Coriolanus’ frown returned.

“Coryo, you know as well as I do that there’s a high possibility we’ll become parents before the end of the week. I want as much as you do to wait until it’s safer, closer to the due date, but twins come early a lot.”

Nodding, the blonde took a long sip of his coffee. “As long as you’re all okay, that’s all that matters.”

-----

You woke to a loud screech, groaning into Coriolanus’ chest as the train stopped moving, stationed back at the Capitol.

“Good morning, welcome home.” Coriolanus whispered, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Good morning, Coryo.”

Both of you getting up, albeit you at a slower pace than Coriolanus, there was a small crowd cheering when you two disembarked the train, publicity-trained smiles on both of your faces.

Several reporters for the Capitol News had come to the station, vying for questions about the tour and wondering it’s success.

You sucked in a breath while Coriolanus spoke with Lucky Flickerman, keeping your face neutral as you interrupted the conversation. “Excuse me, Lucky, but Coriolanus and I have prior engagements we need to get to.”

Coriolanus sent you a look as you dragged him away from the cameras. He leaned down to ask you a question, voice soft to keep it off of the microphones. “What are you talking about?”

Looking up at him, you sent him a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been in labor since four this morning. We’re going to the hospital.”

-----

You groaned in pain as your OB/GYN walked into the room, smile on her face. “Didn’t think we’d be seeing each other so soon, my dear.”

“Well, we like to keep you on your toes.” You grumbled, letting out a sigh as the pain dissipated.

“Where’s Coriolanus? I expected him to be stationed next to you the entire time.”

Laughing, you watched as the doctor put some bands over the bump to monitor the twins. “He stepped out to call Tigris and my mother. He should be back shortly.”

Moving to examine you, you looked on the monitor to watch the babies’ heartbeats.

Coriolanus re-entered the room soon after the examination ended, smiling at the doctor when he noticed her, though when he saw the tears brimming on your lash line his smile dropped. “What happened?”

“Baby B is still in a breech position, we’re going to have to do a C-section.”

At the doctor’s repeated explanation, Coriolanus was next to you in an instant, clasping your hand in his own. “It’s going to be okay, dove. You’ve got wonderfully trained doctors, the best in all of Panem, you’ll be fine.”

It felt like a whirlwind while you were being prepped for surgery, contractions getting worse as time went on.

Coriolanus stood next to you, wanting nothing more than to help take the pain away, willing the pain away.

“Mr. Snow, we’ll be going to operating room shortly. We don’t normally allow this, but you are able to sit in the surgery with us. Meet your children.”

You frantically looked up at Coriolanus, nodding rapidly. “Please, please Coryo. I need you, I can’t- I don’t want to do this alone.”

Coriolanus nodded, allowing himself to be layered in the sterile gown and booties, nerves skyrocketing as if he was the one on the table. “You’ll be okay, my love. It’s going to be okay.”

There was an oxygen cannula pressed against your face, IV into your arm, short curtain set up on top of you, inhibiting your view of the doctors at your other end.

Coriolanus pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, salty with the sweat still beading along your skin.

You felt the pinprick of a local anesthetic, the sounds of medical instruments being picked up and jostled, and the low voices of the surgeons and doctors birthing your children.

“You doing good up there, Mrs. Snow?” One of the surgeons asked, glancing up at your stats.

You nodded, too afraid to speak.

“Alright, let’s meet Baby Number One.” Your OB/GYN smiled, and a piercing cry erupted into the room. “Welcome to the world, Little Girl Snow.”

“A girl, we have a girl, Coryo.” You looked over at Coriolanus, ignoring the pressure in your head.

“We have a girl, love.” Coriolanus smiled, tears threatening to spill over.

You heard one of the machines behind you beeping more incessantly, the voices of the doctors growing muffled and distant.

“Coryo, some-something’s wrong. I feel- something is wrong.” You mumbled, words slurring.

Coriolanus felt his heart drop onto the floor at your admission, head snapping to the doctors who had started to rapidly soaking blood up, and he could pick out a few phrases from their rapid chatter, the words “obstetric hemorrhage” sending chills down his body.

“What’s wrong, what’s going on with my wife?” Coriolanus yelled, terror on his face.

“Mr. Snow, you’re going to have to head to the waiting room.” A nurse spoke, ushering him out of the operating room.

He saw one of the doctors pressing his fingers onto the second baby’s chest, while a handful of other surgeons and doctors focused on you, and Coriolanus had never felt fear quite like this.

-----

Four hours had passed since you were ripped from Coriolanus’ sight, four hours since he last saw his children. “A boy and a girl, Mr. Snow. Congratulations.” The nurse had said, smile on her face.

How she could smile in the face of a man whose wife could be dead, he’ll never know.

Coriolanus’ knee was bouncing a mile a minute as he awaited any news on your state, on the babies, on anything.

“Mr. Snow?”

His head shot up when he heard a soft voice call his name, and he saw a nurse approaching, hesitant smile on his face.

“Is my wife okay?” He asked, eyes frantic.

Nodding, the nurse lead him to a private room, away from any prying eyes. “Mrs. Snow is stable. She experienced a large quantity of blood loss during the birth, but with some transfusions, she is stable and should wake up shortly.”

Nodding, Coriolanus let out a sigh. “The babies? Are they- can I see them?”

The nurse paused, and Coriolanus saw a tick in her jaw.

“What’s wrong with my children?”

“The boy, I’m not sure if you’ve decided on names yet, but the boy will need to be monitored for a few weeks here. His lungs weren’t as developed as his sister’s, but with some supplemental oxygen and time, he should be a fighter.”

“My daughter, is she okay?”

“Would you like to meet your daughter, Mr. Snow?”

The nurse lead him to the nursery, motioning for him to sit in one of the rocking chairs. “Newborns do best with skin-to-skin, if you unbutton your shirt, I can place her on your chest.”

Coriolanus quickly undid the buttons, ignoring the nurse’s gasp at the few bruises on his chest from back on the train, and gently placed the newborn in his arms.

The baby was smaller than he expected, having never held a newborn before, but he felt enamored by her, by his daughter. Already, he was wrapped around her little finger, wanting nothing more than to give her the world.

“She has her mother’s eyes.” Coriolanus whispered, soft smile on his face as he rocked slowly in the chair.

Looking up at the nurse, Coriolanus asked about you, when you would be awake and ready to meet the twins.

“It’s hard to say, some mothers wake up shortly after birthing. Others, ones who had complications not unlike your wife, it can be a few hours to days before they wake. Rest assured, your wife is being monitored closely, and you will be able to bring your daughter to meet her mother.”

Coriolanus nodded, blinking back the few tears that threatened to leak.

He was thankful you two had decided to have the hospital facility to sign NDA contracts, not wanting his soft side to be released to the public.

“I’ll let you two bond, just press that green button when you need anything.”

Coriolanus thanked her, looking down at the small baby in arms.

“Welcome to the world, little one. You and your brother aren’t going to have to worry about a thing, I’ll make sure of it.”

-----

Coriolanus looked at himself in the mirror of your hospital room’s bathroom. The man staring back at him did not look like the Coriolanus Snow who was on the presidential election posters that were recently debuted to the public.

No, the man staring back at Coriolanus had greasy, unkempt hair, stubble popping up along his face, and bags under his eyes. Tigris had stopped in with a change of clothing and something to eat, knowing her cousin wouldn’t eat if it meant leaving your side.

The twins were recovering well, the boy’s lungs growing stronger with each passing day.

You were now Coriolanus’ top priority, you still haven’t woken from the emergency surgery and complications from days prior.

The doctors were unsure of why you hadn’t woken yet, speculating your body needed more rest than you let on, the tour taking a toll on your body.

Coriolanus walked back to the chair on the side of your bed, cracking his neck as he sat down and took your hand in his.

“The babies are doing well, doctor’s speculate we’ll be able to take them home in a few days. We have to name them first, and I know we decided on what to call them, but it feels wrong to sign the certificates without you there.”

The blonde man had taken to talking about his day, explaining things the twins were doing, hoping you would wake up and respond to his ramblings.

The only response he got was the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, the only thing keeping Coriolanus sane.

A knock on the door drew Coriolanus out of his stupor, tight smile coming to his lips when he saw Tigris.

“How is she?” The older Snow asked, dropping a small box of baked goods on the table next to your bed.

“The same.” Coriolanus croaked, voice raw from the nights he spent crying, hoping you didn’t suffer the same end that his mother did.

It was as if Tigris could hear his inner monologue, as she hugged her cousin tightly. “She won’t be like your mom, she’s going to wake up, and she’s going to raise those babies down the hall, and she’s going to be your First Lady.”

Coriolanus nodded, dam breaking as tears escaped his eyes, racing down his chin to meet each other.

-----

Two weeks after you had become parents, Coriolanus had to make an appearance in public to show the Capitol he was still strong, and he would be Panem’s next president.

He was sitting next to Lucky Flickerman, answering lukewarm questions and entertaining the premise that he was running on a full night’s sleep, not the coffees he had been all-but bathing in.

While the show was at a break, one of the Capitol News associates came over to the two men, serious look on his face. “Excuse me, Mr. Snow.”

Coriolanus looked over to him, Lucky frowning that his story had been interrupted.

“Mr. Snow, I’ve just gotten a call from a Tigris Snow? She said that you’re needed at the Capitol Medical Center urgently.”

Coriolanus felt the blood rush to his ears as he left the station without a single look back, commanding his driver to what had become his second home at this point.

-----

Footfalls echoing off the walls, Coriolanus’ eyes were wide as he turned the corner and entered the room that had become familiar over the last weeks, the room seemingly brighter when he saw your smiling face back at him.

“Love.” Coriolanus sighed, rushing to your side, kissing you as if he was starved.

You kissed back just as eagerly, only breaking the kiss when you felt your stitches pull. “Hi, Coryo.”

“Hi, dove.”

-----

a/n: the end <3 maybe you'll see this beautiful family in some future fics!

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #hunger games imagine #coriolanus x you #hunger games x reader #hunger games tbosas #coriolanus snow

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poetslastdeath · 2 months

Text

john and higher ranking reader (i don’t specify the current day rank but it’s very much implied to be higher than his)

heavy hints of dom reader, fem leaning reader this time (couldn’t choose so i flipped a coin and went with fem), cute and short

—————————

reader and john who have known each other since you were just recruits, both grown from hyper soldiers with stars in your eyes to stoic war hardened soliders with more scars than freckles, have known the deafening sound of gunshots longer than you knew compassion.

his youth died years after yours did, you were already a lieutenant then being looked up at by a fumbling yet smooth sergeant price. always a step behind you, always filling the silent air between you too, unrelenting and bright as a dying sun. you wanted to protect that, hold it close, hold and cradle that fire for a little longer until the winds picked up and blew it all away.

it did either way, you watched then left.

better to let him sit alone then look far too close at you, at everything you’ve done, at how you could so easily hurt him but didn’t it every time. look at that stupid thing foolishly named love.

the twin old decaying thing is your chests, some may call it innocence but one far wiser than anyone should be would call it humanity. so you drifted, climbed the ranks, making it farther than a younger you could have guessed. you and john met sparsely after that.

however something always lingered, something else between you two though it only actually played out a few times when it boiled over, usually his poor knees took the brunt of those encounters. some could call it love or lust or they could call it two far too damaged people who cave into each other like waves crashing against rocks. calloused hand in calloused hand.

john, who gets himself into trouble— on the way over you can only sigh without surprise, he was hotheaded in his twenties but now he’s as slow and burning as molten lava— and has to call in a favor to bail him and his team out.

and when you walk in, you’re the only one that notices his slight stutter of breath, chest aching with heavy lingering smoke. it’s like the gravity around you pulls, the world twisting to meet your every step, and eyes are snapped over to you and held like they can do nothing else.

then that’s when the 141 boys know the now slightly deflated shepherd and graves stand no chance.

and they don’t, they fold because they can do nothing against the raspy honey of your voice, it’s allure sounding like a spiders web, thinly veiled poison dripping from cracked lips.

it doesn’t take long, not when you tilt your head as shepherd freezes so still he looks like a statue when you start naming dates and times. insignificant to anyone else, but you know. he knows. anyone could see the threats laid like bear traps behind your words.

and with a fake barely there smile, shepherd and his mutt leave with the slamming of the door.

it’s tense, not quite as tense as when shepherd was in the room, but it’s still like the rest of them don’t quite know what to do with you now, turning to look at their captain then at their lieutenant when john’s eyes are locked on the side of your head.

you look over, meeting his gaze with heavy unreadable eyes, knowing far too well now that keeping emotions in your eyes is the fastest way to having someone kill the light in them.

“thank you, love.” he rasps, you raise an eyebrow and he pauses. glancing away to consider his next steps from here.

“ma’am. thank you, ma’am” he corrects smoothly like he had never said anything else, so naturally that it makes you want to hear his low rough tone whisper it on repeat until he can’t speak.

you nod, eyes flickering over to his team. “hm, pleasure to help.”

they shift, uncomfortable and clearing untrusting of your heavy calculating stare. though you hardly mean to, by now it’s hard to help yourself from making observations almost idly, like how the one you know is “ghost” stands far closer with one of the men then the other one.

you look away from them and back over at john, you shift your weight from one foot to the other and turn in his direction. he follows every movement carefully with shadowed deep eyes.

“i’m done here. you can clear up your own mess, can’t you?” you hear one of his boys shuffle before a hand is placed on his arm in a tight grip, like he was seconds away yelling. you pay no mind to it, far to busy for a puppy’s biting at your ankle.

“i’ll send you a gift.” you pause, watching john again. “a little something about shepherd so his leash should shorten.”

he exhales, careful and slow. you don’t quite know what he’s thinking, no matter how good you’ve gotten he’s also improved.

“thank you, ma’am” he repeats, tilting his head forward. you smile, walking forward, glancing at the clock behind him.

you mumble, “hm, call me if you need me further.”

and when you pass him, you lean over to whisper in his ear, words carefully crafted just for him. “oh and if you want something, then ask for it, baby.”

his shaky exhale tells you everyone you need to know. the door shutting behind you is perfectly timed with his mind sliding back into captain mode.

it’s a pity, he’s far prettier when he isn’t in control.

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honkytonk-hangman · 3 months

Text

Take Care Of Business

40s!Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Mechanic!Reader

gif belongs to babyrooster

Summary: The last time you met Lieutenant Jake Seresin, the war was still ongoing and you’d been in a floundering engagement. Back then you’d seen the possibility for more in his eyes, and now? Well, now you could explore it.

Warnings: mentions of period accurate sexism, mentions of a cheating fiancee. copious amounts of fluff, seriously you may overdose

Notes: OMG ITS HERE ITS ACTUALLY FINISHED!!! thank you so sosososososos much to @hangmanssunnies for your endless endless ENDLESS love and encouragement during the last year writing this, and also to @ussgallifrey, who was super supportive during the earliest versions of this fic <3 i can't believe its heeerrreeee

1946

You can’t help but let out a laugh as you’re guided through the busy dance hall, barely missing a waiter with a large tray of drinks as you go. You try to call back an apology, but the hand wrapped around your wrist is already dragging you away, weaving in and out of the crowds of dancers and party-goers.

You’d almost forgotten what the atmosphere in a place like this could be like, exuberant and daring, and now that the war was officially over, lacking in any sort of melancholy.

Bea, your well meaning, but a little over-excited friend, finally seems to be slowing down, though she has one last surprise in stall for you, using your momentum to swing you around to her side with a strength such a small woman certainly shouldn’t possess.

“There she is!” a male voice, deep and pleasant, greets from somewhere in front of you, and you give your head a quick shake, attempting to get your bearings now.

“Sorry we’re late, sugar! Had a lipstick emergency!” Bea says only half truthfully, stepping away from your side momentarily to allow a handsome moustachioed man to lean down and kiss her cheek.

You can’t help but smile at the sweet display. Bea had been telling you all about Bradley Bradshaw for weeks now, and if even half of what she’d told you was true, you already liked him immensely for treating your friend so well.

“And this must be the famous Ducky I’ve heard all about,” honey coloured eyes swivel away from Bea and land on you, making you remember yourself.

“It’s so good to meet you at last, Lieutenant Bradshaw!” you shake his offered hand warmly.

“Please just call me Bradley– or Rooster!” he gently corrects you, before he hums, and shoots Bea a suspicious look.

“Do you think she’s adding us birds to some sort of collection?” he asks conspiratorially, the question making you laugh genuinely at the absurdity.

Bea huffs, shakes her head, and smacks his arm, trying her best to fight off the grin on her lips.

“All I’ll say Rooster, is that you’d best treat her right, or she will hunt you for sport,” you lean in and reply, receiving your own smack for your trouble. Rooster’s face turns bright and he laughs, pulling Bea near with his arm around her.

“I can believe that, yes ma’am,” they look at each other with barely concealed adoration, and it makes your heart clench a little in your chest. You’re quickly distracted though, with the sudden and rowdy approach of six other people, all dressed to the nines like everyone else around you. Rooster seems unfazed by their appearance, though he tears his eyes away from Bea to glance around at the now much larger group you were in.

“Fellas, you all know Bea already, and this is Bea’s friend, Ducky,” he easily introduces you to the six newcomers, all men except for a tall, beautiful brunette woman who looked like she could eat every single one of them for breakfast. A flurry of handshakes and names are exchanged, and you’re surprised by just how quickly you feel totally absorbed by the group of Naval Aviators, like you’d known them all for years and were just catching up again.

“I’m spotting a free table, north west!” the man who held the youngest looking features of the group, Fanboy you believe he’d introduced himself as, pipes up, pointing over everyone's heads to the large round table that was currently being cleaned up. Before you can even process it, the entire group is migrating casually toward the table, Rooster catching the arm of the waiter before he leaves, putting a round in, you assume.

You find yourself next to Bob, who sends you an adorably awkward little grin as he pulls out your chair for you, and you thank him sincerely. Despite the gentlemanly gesture, the moment you’re comfortable, he’s taking his own seat, and once more totally absorbed by the woman you’d learn was named Phoenix, or Nat. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, too distracted by all the new faces, and their excitable personalities, but Bob was clearly, utterly enamoured by Phoenix, and it looked like the feeling was returned, if perhaps a little less obviously

“Hey, Javy, where’s your other half?” Bea is sat a few places down from you, her hand wrapped through Rooster’s arm. A man on the opposite side of the table waves his hand over his shoulder.

“He’s coming, probably caught his reflection in a glass,” Javy snorts.

“I wanted to introduce him to Ducky!” Bea pouts, and her words make you frown.

“Pardon?” you say pointedly, leaning around Bob and Phoenix to look at Bea with a frown. Rooster seems to be matching your expression, and he cocks his head at his partner.

“Ducky is far too nice for him,” Rooster says, but you get the feeling he doesn’t really mean it.

“Oh come off it, Ducks, you could do with meeting someone new!” Bea rolls her eyes, but her voice is imploring.

Your frown deepens just a little bit, but you aren’t too angry. It wasn’t as if she’d tricked you into a double date or anything. There were plenty of other seemingly solo people around that you’re sure any awkwardness could easily be avoided if you managed to stick by Bob and Phoenix.

“I’m afraid that I won’t be able to help you there, Honey Bea,” A smooth male voice purrs from behind you, and you almost jump at the hand that comes to rest warmly on your shoulder. You turn quickly in no small amount of surprise at the person apparently so close, but any further thought is cut off when your eyes properly take in the handsome face smirking coquettishly down at you.

You’re so surprised, you gasp daintily, fumbling to your feet so that you can greet him properly.

“Hangman!” you welcome him excitedly, happily accepting the hand he offers to help you up.

“Jake,” he corrects gently, and you feel foolish for laughing.

“Jake!” you repeat fondly, caught up in staring at him.

“You two already know each other?” Bea sounds put out, but intrigued, and you manage to tear your gaze away from Jake for a few moments to focus on her.

“Oh, Ducky and I go way back,” Jake tells her, at first offering no more explanation.

“We met during the war,” you explain to her, opening your mouth to continue on that he had been a friend of your fiance’s, but you stop yourself. Jake had been your friend long before you’d found out he knew your ex-fiance.

“Best damn aircraft mechanic I’ve ever had,” Jake adds, sounding proud as he brings your hand that he still holds up to his lips. Phoenix jerks then, blinking quickly around the other’s and then up at Jake with a growing smile.

“Wait, you’re the Ducky?! Jake’s Ducky?!” She questions in no small amount of disbelief. There’s a quiet chitter of understanding and awe that briefly overcomes the table, and you’re about to ask what it is she means by that, when Jake squeezes your hand and draws your attention, all the while shooting Phoenix a dirty look.

“Stop interrupting,” he scolds needlessly, and draws you closer.

Your chest flutters, but you’re distracted from the butterflies caused by being described as ‘Jake’s Ducky’, and instead distracted by an odd look on the blond’s face. It quickly turns a little darker, and you can’t help but notice the brief flicker of his eyes down to the hand he still holds.

“Where is the old man, then?” Jake tilts his head at you, and then quickly around at the crowded club, seemingly a little stiff now. You suck in a breath, realising now what he’d been confused by.

Clearing your throat, you take your left hand back from him with only a small amount of effort, before smoothing down your frock primly. Suddenly his closeness was nerve wracking as you feel him studying your features.

“Probably with his new wife. I haven’t exactly been keeping up,” you can’t help but scold yourself for the sass and bitterness in your tone. It just wasn’t classy. Jake seems to jolt as he processes your words, and for several more moments he stares down at you with an unreadable expression, before at last a tiny crease pulls between his brows, and his lips purse.

“I never liked him, anyway,” Jake says the words flippantly, and you know it’s supposed to be a joke, but his still taut expression and lack of humour in his voice tell you otherwise.

“Never good enough for you. To you,” he goes on quieter, so no one else can hear but you. You look down at your skirt, heart thumping away rapidly in your chest even as you shrug.

“Well, it’s probably for the best,” you do your best to shake off any residual foul mood and nerves, straightening up. Your lips curl back into a smile as you look back up at him once more. It felt nearly impossible to be melancholy when you knew Jake was around.

“It’s so good to see you again,” you tell him earnestly, and watch as Jake’s face softens. He takes your hand again, keeping eye contact as he lifts it to his lips and kisses it once more, this time, right where your old engagement ring would have been.

“I imagine,” he smirks, bouncing an eyebrow at you. You scoff, but grin even as you roll your eyes.

“You’re supposed to say ‘you too’!” you scold with no conviction as Jake rounds your seat, not even releasing your hand when, helping you back into your chair before he quickly folds himself into the empty space beside you. He simply shrugs at you, making a point of pulling his chair closer to yours, before his eyes flicker past you to land on Rooster and Bea.

“Sorry to ruin your little setup,” he doesn’t sound very sorry at all, though you doubt Bea was feeling too upset, not with the way she was looking between you and Jake with glee in her eyes.

“Hey, wasn’t my plan. I think she’s too good for you,” Rooster chortles, catching the fist Bea attempts to sock him with, and kissing it instead.

Jake ignores Rooster, and instead cuts his gaze down at you, leaning in so only you’ll hear him.

“How long have you been in San Diego? Are you staying?” he asks, sounding excited by the idea. When you turn to face him fully, his nearness is so much that if only for propriety’s sake, you’re forced to pull back from him as you talk.

“Six months now. I met Bea on the boat coming home from London, she convinced me not to go back to New York after… everything.” you tell him, realising suddenly what incredible luck you must have that you just so happened to run into one another when you’d resigned yourself to never seeing him again.

“I’m glad.” he says, pinning you in place when you feel his hand reach out and take yours from where it rests on your lap. Your heart thumps heavily at his brazenness, but it also sets you alight with a hopeful flame that in recent months you had come to realise you always had, but never allowed yourself to take notice of or indulge before.

The thoughts make your face boil, and you avert your gaze, your free hand shaking just a little as you reach for the glass of water that had been poured for you earlier.

“Oh, Ducky,” Jake sighs affectionately, leaning away from you at last, but tightening his grip around your fingers. You finally get the courage to glance up at him sheepishly, only to find him grinning down at you cheshire-like.

“My little sitting Ducky,” he continues, his smile only continuing to grow.

You know you should probably feel more trepidation about his sudden forwardness, but the only thing that you feel pumping through your veins is the exhilarating thrill at the thought of Jake calling you ‘his’ anything after so long of secretly wishing it to be true.

The way he looks at you feels positively predatory, and under his blistering hunter’s stare, you really are his sitting duck.

1942

The rain batters down against the airfield in what you knew would only prove to be ugly flying weather tonight, and you quickly send out a prayer of luck on behalf of the pilot you know by handwriting alone. Your time as an aircraft mechanic had officially come to an end, not for any good or decent reason, mind you, but for the sole fact that someone had suddenly decided that an active airfield was no place for a woman.

Nevermind that you were the best mechanic in the hangar, your colleagues had stroppily resented your presence from day one, and your true purpose as an additional engineer was forcibly concealed. Instead, you’d had to pretend you were a secretary around any actual personnel, especially the pilots, and once the hangar was clear for the day, you would be at last allowed to perform your actual job.

You’d gotten the impression fairly quickly that your coworkers shunted off the hardest to please, fussiest pilot, onto you, hoping you might fail at the first hurdle under the sheer amount of work this ‘Hangman’ seemed to demand. Unfortunately for them, you’d had no problem meeting the brief, and day after day that the planes were towed into the hangar for repairs, the stack of memos detailing Hangman’s complaints that always accompanied his aircraft grew smaller and smaller.

And then one day, instead of a plane to fix and a list of notes, you had a letter shoved into your hands, the contents of which was a written apology from one Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, informing you that he’d he’d been shot down, and all your hard work over the past weeks was now engulfed in flame somewhere in Italy. You’d immediately penned a reply, not caring at all about the state of his aircraft, and expressing your relief that he had made it out safely. You’d had to sign it off using a pseudonym, your own name would have gone against your boss’s wishes, and a fake name would be easily found out on an active military base.

You’d gone with ‘Ducky’, the callsign your father had used during the Great War, and from then on out, it had stuck.

Lieutenant Seresin had been sent back to the airfield eventually, and you’d both gone back to business as usual for several months. His battered bomber would be towed into the hangar for repairs, but gone were his blunt instructions, in their place he left short personal letters usually detailing his most recent flights, and only sometimes with requests about fixtures to be made. You would then leave your own reply for him to find when the plane was returned back to the runway, and so on, so forth.

At least, that's how things had been carrying on until this morning, when you’d been abruptly dismissed by the airfield’s second in command, a snivelling man who had informed you they had ended your auxiliary work here, as it was apparently no place for a woman to be.

You’d wanted to shout and demand explanations, to demand your colleagues defend your worth, but they'd all remained silent, and you’d quickly been escorted off to pack your things with tears stinging your eyes.

You can’t help but wonder if your secret somehow got out, by the doing of jealous coworkers, and if perhaps Hangman hadn’t been so pleased with you upon finding out that you’re a woman.

The heavy rainfall makes it difficult for you and your bags to get across to the waiting transport plane, but the war stopped for nobody, so you’d wound up in the back of the empty aircraft, your clothes and things all but totally soaked. You’d been told the plane wouldn’t leave until the storm died down, so you’d huddled onto one of the benches miserably and tried to get warm, but you felt yourself filled with a deeper coldness than simply the biting european air.

You sit and stare out the back of the plane’s fuselage, simply taking in the distant ebb and flow of the airfield, a flurry of activity that wouldn't stop just because of some rain. It comforted you in a way, to know this place would carry on, but there was a deeper part of you that worried for them. You weren’t a braggart, but you knew you were the best mechanic here, taking not just pride in your work, but joy and passion too. It concerns you what may happen to the pilots in the future.

But, it was much too late for you to do anything else now. Perhaps if you’d been brave enough from the start to demand your recognition all along, this wouldn't be the case, but you think that perhaps they’d have just gotten rid of you sooner.

And then you notice something very odd.

All of a sudden out of the pouring sheets of rain, a covered military jeep comes tearing into sight, its driver in some kind of rush despite the slow lazy movement of everything else in this weather. You blink in surprise as the car skids right up to the plane you’re in, and jump up when it at last comes to a full stop only a few feet from the ramp. You can’t help but take a step back when the door flings open, and you watch as a tall, handsome man bounds out, clearly with urgent business to attend.

The man quickly moves up the plane ramp toward you, ducking out of the rain and taking a moment to fix his hair briefly before he straightens fully again. You stare at him with widened eyes, taking in the aviation uniform he wears, complete with gold wings that seem to glint blindingly despite the lack of sunlight on them. He pauses at the top of the ramp, and you almost jump back again at the intensity of his gaze when his bright green eyes narrow at you.

“Now, now, Ducky, don’t you know it’s rude to leave without saying goodbye?” the lazy southern drawl to the man’s voice surprises you so much that you almost don’t notice the familiarity with which he speaks to you.

“I’m sorry?!” you blurt dumbly. The blonde nods acceptingly, and steps forward, placing his hands on his hips.

“I should hope so! You think Kirk is gonna send me letters the next time I get shot down?” he asks scoldingly, but his casual mention of what would have been certain death for any other pilot is what finally snaps you from your shock.

“You'll get more than just a letter from me the next time you’re shot down!” you say crossly, finding yourself none-too-pleased by his nonchalant attitude toward the subject. Your threat makes a smirk form on the blonde’s lips, and at last he seems to stop his baseless tirade in favour of giving you a very blatant once over. You’re more subtle in your own assessment. A quick glance at the name pinned just below his gold wings confirms your suspicions about who it is you talk to, and when you snap your eyes back to his face, you find he’s already watching you closely.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve known you’re a woman for quite some time,” Hangman says, somehow both seriously and flippantly at the same time, waving his hand dismissively. Your brows furrow and you open your mouth to defend yourself, but shut it again quickly when you realise you’re unsure of what you’d say. “I first suspected when the repair hangar suddenly had a secretary who made terrible coffee. They aren’t sending anyone who makes shitty coffee this close to Italy. No offence.”

You feel like you should be insulted by his words, but truthfully, you’d made the joe that bad on purpose out of pure spite, until they stopped asking you to fetch it. The two of you continue to stare at one another for a few seconds, before you shift your eyes away from him, swallowing thickly as you begin to fidget with your still damp sleeve.

“The other’s thought it best that the pilot’s didn’t know a woman was working on their planes…” you try to explain. Hangman immediately scoffs at your words, and you eye him cautiously as he flings a hand out behind him, toward the entrance of the transport plane and in the vague direction of where the bombers are lined up on the tarmac, their bright colours obscured by the heavy rain.

“Ducky,” he begins dryly, “We paint our planes with women, we name our planes after our women,” he tells you, his smirk tipping up into pure amusement now, an eyebrow following. “Besides, I ain’t ever known a pilot who’s intimidated by a little skirt, especially around our machines,” he purrs, lowering his voice flirtatiously. Your face immediately heats up at his insinuation, and you can’t help but tut disapprovingly at him, even if you did appreciate his other sentiments. You fold your arms over your chest in disapproval while Hangman chortles at your clear bashfulness.

“I mean it, Ducky, please don’t go,” the pilot all but begs you then, his tone suddenly serious. He steps closer again, forcing you to look up at him in the gloomy dark of the plane.

“I– I’m not leaving because I want to, Lieutenant,” you tell him somberly, dropping your gaze again when you find his stare too intense. “I was told to leave.”

Hangman scoffs again, and adjusts his stance.

“Right, and I’ve just come from dangling my ass in front of a court martial, or seven, to make sure that order is belayed.” he informs you much too casually. You sputter at his mention of possible charges on your behalf, your arms falling unfolded again as you take a half-step forward in panic.

“W–what?! What did you do?!” you demand, half worried, half furious.

Hangman grins widely at your clear exasperation, and tips his chin up cockily. You get the sudden feeling he enjoys ticking you off and making you nervous.

“Well, they can’t expect me to remain their best pilot if I don’t have my best girl working on my other best girl,” he tells you slowly, as if it should have been completely obvious already. Your face gets even hotter at his clear flirting, guilt strumming in your stomach at the way your chest flutters despite your relationship status. However, before you’re able to rebuke him by pointing out the ring you wear, the handsome blond makes a show of digging into his breast pocket, and pulling out a crumpled, coffee stained letter, holding it out towards you.

You hesitantly step closer to take it from him, feeling his bright, intense gaze return to yours, as you unfold and quickly look over the typed missive. It’s only a few lines long, and signed at the bottom, so you find yourself hurriedly meeting his eye again.

“You did this for me?” you ask, voice now watery. Hangman stares down at you, looking suddenly less cocky and sure of himself, taken aback by your clear emotional response.

“... Technically, I did this for me.” he corrects unconvincingly, voice lilting to sound dismissive, but you barely hear him, and certainly don’t care for his posturing.

“Thank you!” you gush, feeling a massive weight lift form your chest for the first time all morning. The pilot blinks down at you, stiffly taking in the tears that you try to wipe away with the back of your hand.

“How’re you supposed to drag me back by the ear the next time I get shot down, if you’re not here?” He changes the subject slightly, but only earns a small laugh in reply, not a further telling off, which he’d hoped might distract you from your tears.

“I think that will be the least I owe you after this.” you sniffle. The pilot shuffles uncomfortably, and raises a hand to scratch nervously at the back of his head, unable to sidestep the emotional centre of this interaction like he’d wanted to, but he chooses to wade through it, for you.

“You don’t owe me a damn thing, Ducky, really,” Hangman sighs, speaking tiredly, but firmly. “You’re the best aircraft mechanic I’ve ever had, probably that any of us have had. Shouldn’t matter if you’re a woman.” he hopes he sounds sincere. You hold the belayed order to your chest, and with a wobbling lip stare up at him like he was the sun itself.

You don’t realise this is the exact moment Lieutenant Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin falls completely in love with you, but as he eyes the shiny engagement ring you wear, he does.

1946

You try to ignore the way Bea stares at you and Jake for the next half hour as you catch up, and eventually, you are able to brush off her pointed looks and coquettish smiles. The other Daggers, Rooster and Phoenix particularly, show no such subtly in the way they seem to watch Jake interact with you. Phoenix had even grown a smug little smile in the last few minutes and had begun teasingly questioning Jake about the tender way in which he had taken up your hand and absolutely refused to let it go.

You get the feeling they know something you don’t, but you don’t feel that poorly over it, not when Hangman, Jake, has his hand in yours, his thumb caressing back and forth in little circles everytime you seem to go quiet.

Eventually, tiring of the clear teasing at his expense, Jake rolls his eyes and clears his throat. Fixing you in his gaze fully, he squeezes your hand and gets to his feet.

“I think we’ve both answered more than enough of your questions, Ducky, dance with me?” he doesn’t wait for your answer, but you would have said yes anyway, and, with a final glance back at the table as if to apologise for the sudden exit, you’re tugged gently away and almost immediately find yourself wrapped up on the dancefloor.

“I’m sorry if I’m rusty, it’s been a while since I danced properly,” you say nervously, feeling slightly lightheaded as Jake’s free hand moves to take hold of your waist firmly. His lips flick up, but he fakes a frown anyway, lowering his chin at you. You’re so close now you can feel yourself pressed right against the front of his pristine dress whites, feel the gold buttons through the tulle of your dress.

“I would have thought you’d be out dancing all the time now, fiancee or not,” Jake replies smoothly, making you shift your gaze away from him for a moment.

“It’s hardly wise to spend all my time dancing when I can barely find a job…” you say quietly, chewing on your lower lip, before you finally look back up at him. “If I’m honest, I hadn’t thought I’d still be working, once the war was over.”

Jake’s features lose any of their humour and he purses his lips.

“No, I’d have thought not… you should be being looked after by a good man, living a good life, taken dancing whenever you’d like and you’d never be rusty.” he tells you seriously. You can’t help but smile warmly at him and shrug a little in his hold.

“I think what I should do is adjust my expectations,” you say, inhaling sharply when his hold on your tightens, and he seems to pull you even nearer, if possible.

“I’m afraid that is absolutely unacceptable,” he tells you with a vehement shake of his head. “I think we’re going to have to do something about it, aren’t we?”

Butterflies errupt in your stomach, and unable to bear looking at him any more, you gently pull your hands from his, and wrap them around his neck. Your head rests softly on his chest, Jake quickly adjusting to meet your new stance in a way that suggested to you he’d imagined holding you like this for some time. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a soft sigh.

“Thank you, Jake.” You say quietly, only knowing for sure that he’s heard you by the way he gently squeezes your waist in response.

“For what, darlin’?”

“For everything. For always coming back like I asked, despite your terrible habit of only ever returning with about half as much plane as I sent you out with, for believing in me, and fighting for me, and always being there for me, even when Grey wasn’t.”

Jake stays quiet for a beat, his grip on you never wavering, and for a few moments the two of you just sway.

“It never felt right, knowing what I did about him, how he behaved, and keeping it from you… I… I felt so guilty all this time thinkin’ you’d been married to a man I knew didn’t deserve you, knowing I should have said something.”

It’s your turn to stay quiet, though eventually you shift your face up so that you can look at him. For the first time ever, Jake struggles to make eye contact with you, but when you begin gently smoothing over the hair at the back of his neck he meets your gaze. You smile sadly and shake your head.

“I knew,” you tell him, watching how his expression shifts from guilt-ridden to pained, and he opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “I didn’t want to believe it, and if you’d tried to tell me, I wouldn’t have believed you.” You continue stroking the back of his hair as if to comfort him. “And now I can still look fondly back on that time. In my mind, I will always think more of you looking out for me on his behalf, more than I think of him.” you admit.

Jake purses his lips and frowns.

“He never once asked me to do that for you, I couldn’t believe it, even when he knew we were stationed together. I woulda made sure you had someone you could trust, rely on, especially given how the other mechanics treated you.” He sounds so angry, and you can’t help but blink up at him in surprise.

“Grey never asked you to look out for me?” you ask, a fresh sting cutting your heart. You were long over your cheating, good for nothing ex-fiancee, but occasionally on nights like tonight, you felt the hurt once again. Jake takes in your surprise and hesitates for a moment before shaking his head.

“No. I won’t give him credit for that, I’m sorry sweetheart.”

You stop swaying, pausing for a moment to stare up at him, and then you can’t help yourself, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Jake.” you say once more. When you pull away, Jake studies you for a while, before he slides his hands up to take yours, suddenly spinning you out, and then back in, where he catches you seemingly with his entire body, hands quickly wrapping you up securely again as you gasp.

“Why so surprised, honey? I’ve never made a secret of how much I adore you?” He teases you, making you stutter.

“Y-yes well, you were usuaully far more subtle about it!” you attempt to defend. Jake’s face breaks out in a grin, but he eyes you sardonically anyway.

“I’m glad my restraint didn’t go unnoticed. I could easily have seduced you away back then,” he tells you wryly. You frown.

“I don’t think that’s true…” you argue, but Jake only smiles.

“Let me believe, honey,” he implores, making you laugh.

You fall into a comfortable quiet then, and happily let Jake twirl you around the dancefloor, shaking off any rust you may have obtained in the months since you’d last been out like this. After once more spinning you away and catching you again, you meet together with your faces much too close to be proper, but you hardly care with the way he looks down at you.

“The moment I saw you sitting in the back of that transport plane, I knew for sure you were my dream girl, you know that?” he tells you breathlessly. “I spent my entire recovery when I was shot down daydreaming about you, rereading every letter you wrote me.”

“You’re just trying to charm me now!” you accuse playfully. Jake chortles, and shakes his head.

“I told all my nurses about you, how I was going to marry you when the war was over,” he says, making your heart skip several beats.

“And all because I fixed your plane up real good?” you ask, unsure how else to respond. Jake raises an eyebrow and fixes you with an amused expression.

“Clearly you don’t grasp how attractive that is.”

“Clearly I don’t.”

“I hope my being unavailable didn’t hurt you, back then,” you say softly, surprised when Jake only shrugs minimally.

“Other than curbing my ability to seduce you, I knew one way or the other things would work out,” he tells you, sounding oddly serious. You blink at him, but cock your head slightly.

“I suppose they have, haven’t they?”

“I knew you liked me,” Jake says teasingly, leaning his face even closer to yours so that your noses almost touch. You roll your eyes, but don’t move back.

“How could I not? I’ve spent the last year feeling like a fool because I thought I’d never see you again!” you reply, lamenting the wasted time.

Jake hums, making you suck in a breath when he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ve been looking for you, but I didn’t even know your full name, or if you’d had it changed… But I’d never have left you, not when you never left me, no matter how many planes of yours I got shot out of.”

“Please don’t ruin this moment by reminding me,” you scold him, making the blond laugh. After a few beats of swaying together, you wrap your hands back around his neck and lean into him. You feel Jake’s head come to rest on yours, the both of you looking out at the dancefloor, where you spot Rooster and Bea dancing alongside Pheonix and Bob.

“Who do you think will have the wedding bells ringing first?” you ask wistuflly. Jake takes a moment to answer, humming briefly before he replies.

“Us.” He tells you matter of factly.

You can't help but giggle, and blindly smack his shoulder lightly.

“You’re hopeless!” you say, shaking your head where it lays against his chest. Jake only tightens his hold on you.

“Can’t let those nurses down, can I? They told me I had to marry you if you still hadn’t left me after the amount of times I was shot down.”

Against him you grumble, and poke his neck a little more forcefully.

“I wouldn’t recommend tyring that again,” you say darkly. You feel the man straighten ever so slightly, his head bobbing as he nods.

“Yes ma’am.” He affirms. You stay dancing closely, wrapped up in one another until he speaks again. “Will you come down to base tomorrow, look over my plane?” He asks quietly, and you can’t help but grin. Pulling back from him, you gaze into his green eyes, finding pure hope and adoration there.

“Only if you kiss me first.”

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