THE TONIGHT SHOW STARRING JOE & YN KEERY ⋆ joe keery x actress!reader (smau)
summary ⋆ as stranger things comes to an end, you say goodbye to your character for the last time and share the unexpected news that you're getting married to your co-star and on-screen partner, joe keery
warnings ⋆ smau, use of y/n, florence pugh is used as faceclaim, english is not my native language
part one⋆ part two ⋆ part three
Joe and you were sitting together on that familiar blue couch that has welcomed so many celebrities over the years. In front of you was Jimmy Fallon, the host who had kindly reached out to you to see if he could interview you both about your upcoming marriage.
The audience erupted in applause, screaming at the sight of you two together in public for the very first time. It was the ultimate confirmation that everything that had happened in the last few days was real and not just a well-thought-out prank on your part.
“We have such an incredible night for you! Two of my favorite people, together and engaged, Joe Keery and Yn Ln!” Jimmy presented with enthusiasm, sending the audience into a frenzy once again, “Welcome and congratulations on your engagement!”
“Thanks, Jimmy. It’s great to be here, and it’s even better to be here with her,” your fiancé spoke with a smile, squeezing your hand which was tucked firmly in his.
“It feels surreal to be sitting here talking to you about us after so many years in silence. . .” you confessed, a bit nervous knowing what was coming next.
“And that’s my first question— seven years! how did you guys did it? how were you able to keep this a secret for so long?”
“Well, it wasn’t some master plan or anything like that, i swear!” you laughed while looking at the audience and then back at Jimmy, “We started dating during the filming of the third season. i remember asking Joe for his number so we could talk, but i used the excuse that since our characters would be together soon, we should get to know each other more. . . but it was a lie, i just wanted to talk to him!”
The audience laughed along with you upon hearing you confess that you had been the one to make the first move on Joe.
“After that, she and i never stopped talking. It was instantaneous, and after a month of just talking, we decided to date seriously— and here we are,” your fiancé smiled, looking at you with those eyes that could remind you over and over again why you fell in love with him, “There were moments where we thought about announcing it, but then we realized that everyone who mattered to us already knew”
“It was our secret. We never felt the need to tell the whole world until we realized that a marriage is much more complicated to hide, so we decided to reveal our engagement now,” you finished, placing your left hand in front of you to show your engagement ring to the cheering audience.
“That's beautiful, truly,” Jimmy spoke, moved by your story together, “Speaking of your engagement, Taylor Swift commented on Yn’s post saying that her song, Lover, is so you guys. Is there any other song that defines you?”
You looked at Joe before answering the question you'd been asked, silently deciding to share something more personal.
“It would definitely be 'Sweet Nothing' it's our song. For me, coming home after exhausting days on set and having my love here asking for nothing more than to have me by his side. . . it meant— and means so much to me, especially considering the kind of life we have. . .” you confessed, excited to show a more intimate side of you and your fiancé.
“Yeah, it doesn't matter how loud the world gets, because with her, everything goes quiet,” Joe reaffirmed, giving your hand a kiss.
“That's incredible. And moving on, before we went on air, you told me something that surprised me quite a bit, and i'd like to ask you now. . .was your relationship always this easy to navigate, or did you have any difficulties along the way?”
You knew that question would come sooner or later; after all, you’d authorized the host to ask about the topic you were about to discuss, but you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in your eyes as you recalled it.
“As you heard earlier, Jimmy, during 2024, Joe and I went through a very difficult time in our relationship. In fact, we were broken up for a few months,” you said.
A collective gasp of surprise filled the set as the audience couldn't believe what they were hearing. But you only focused on your hand intertwined with your fiancé's, reminding yourself that the situation was in the past and would stay there forever.
“It was during the filming of the final season of Stranger Things. In fact, i think i speak for both of us when i say it was hell having to film scenes between Steve and Tally when we weren't together anymore,” Joe said, and you nodded in agreement.
“And can we know the reason?”
You took a heavy sigh before answering, “It was my fault—”
“It wasn’t. It wasn't your fault,” Joe interrupted, trying to make you realize that what happened wasn't all on you, even though in your heart you felt the breakup was your doing.
“It was my fault, and that’s okay,” you accepted, letting your man know you were fine talking about it, “Honestly, i’m a workaholic and during 2024, i was filming two projects at the same time in Atlanta and i forgot how to be a partner. It caused us to burn out, you know?” you explained, as Jimmy nodded at your word.
“And how was that for you, Joe?”
“Well, it was pretty difficult. I understood that we needed space to grow, but it was a painful process. While i was on set, i wrote a couple of songs that you can now hear on The Crux that helped me process what we were going through. . .but i kept thinking that it couldn’t be the end for us,” your fiancé smiled nostalgically, looking at you with those eyes that now radiated pure love.
Jimmy watched you for a moment, moved to hear your story along with the rest of the audience, before asking what everyone wanted to know.
“And how was the reconciliation?”
“There was a point during filming where it was so difficult to be in the same place that we decided to sit down and talk with the truth about what we wanted,” you began to say, and Joe finished the story.
“We realized we couldn’t see a future without each other. So we gave ourselves another chance and promised to work on what had initially driven us apart in the first place, as well as to prioritize our relationship”
“And then came the proposal! We were finishing our last scenes as Tally and Steve, and when they yelled ‘cut!’ Millie appeared filming with her phone with the rest, and everyone had smiles on their faces. I knew something was about to happen when she handed Joe a little velvet box,” you laughed sweetly, remembering the most special marriage proposal you could’ve ever had.
“Millie was my right hand in all of this. The others knew what i was going to do, but Mills was the one in charge of everything else. After that, i got down on one knee, told her how much i loved her. . .and she said yes!” your fiancé shared excitedly anf you started to get emotional, as if you were living the moment all over again.
“It was perfect. And who knows? maybe next time we see each other, Jimmy, i'll already be Mrs. Keery” you teased, laughing with your fiancé.
“That's what i'm talking about! Joe and Yn Keery! What an incredible story, guys. Congratulations!” Jimmy smiled, followed by the loud applause of the audience and by uncontrolled shouting of your names as Joe quickly pulled you in to give you a kiss in front of everyone.
a/n ⋆ part 2 of this smau! i hope you liked it! thank you all for the support you've given to this smau <3, and I'm already thinking about the next and final part of it! comment if you wanna get tagged^^
Dennis Whitaker x Actress!Reader, The Pitt x Reader
Find My Pitt Masterlist here
Thank you to @c-est-comme-ca for the request! hope you enjoy 💐
Dennis has always been unassuming to his colleagues. Quiet and diligent with his work. And with a girlfriend that no one's ever met or seen before. His colleagues are left wondering who it might be.
Turns out you are not what they had in mind...You, who is an incredibly famous actress that most would fight for a chance to be with.
Too bad for everyone else, because your heart is taken by the sweet doctor you once met in the little town of Broken Bow.
Warnings: little bit of strong language, just two people falling in love. Meddlesome Pitt. Tooth rotting aching fluff! 💕 Dennis being a cutie-pie
Word Count: ~5.1k
As the city begins to wake.
The ER spurs on. Constant. Never resting.
The night shift crew creeps away as the day shifters fall into step.
It was for once.
On that very rare occasion.
A quiet morning.
Allowing time to savour the coffee instead of scalding the backs of their throats. No need to run around. Simply conserving their energy as they waded through the patients.
Time enough that Princess’ eyes drifted to the TV as Good Morning America filters on screen. Her attention is caught by the current segment.
The sight of you walking out taking a seat on the couch, clothes bespoke and tailored to perfection. Little lace detailing and white tulle, as pearl earrings cling to your ears.
All alluding to your current film set to be released.
The Drama.
By your side sits Robert Pattinson as you’re across from the two hosts.
Smiles wide and relaxed as you answer their questions.
Talking about the film and what audiences can expect. The romantic comedy themes while it delves into something a bit more intricate and darker than one might expect.
All leading to the little intricate details of your own outfits as part of the press tour. Making Princess swoon at the dresses.
“And why’re you so happy this morning?” Perlah asks as she stops by her side, eyes flicking to glance at what had captured her friend's attention. “Really, a morning show?”
Princess says your name, as though it were the only explanation necessary for her delighted state.
“C’mon Perlah, surely you’ve heard of her,” Donnie interjects, “My wife has been raving on about this movie because of her.”
“Isn’t it just a rom com about a wedding?” Perlah raises a brow.
Princess lightly slaps her arm, “It is going to be so much more than that. Not only is it a rom com but it is a rom com staring Robert Pattinson and Y/N L/N. She always adds so much depth to the characters she portrays.”
As others catch wind of the conversation a small group begins to form as they watch.
Her eyes drift back on screen.
“And so with the way you two have been acting you have fans in a frenzy over whether you two are secretly together?”
“The wedding themes certainly do nothing to quell the rumours, do they?” Robert quips, sending you a knowing glance. This was definitely not the first time you had to field this question. But each time you hoped it would be the last.
Sitting a bit straighter. “Look, Robert is a great guy I’ll give you that. But he already has an amazingly stunning and wonderful partner, Suki. Who I adore, and if anything I’d be trying to get with her,” you replied.
“Fair. So this isn’t your typical showmance. Perhaps you can tell us whether anyone else might have wedding bells ringing in your ears?” they continue to probe.
You internalise the sigh and roll of your eyes that you want to let out. As a graceful smile slips onto your face instead.
“Fans noticed on your recent couch session with Graham Norton that you seemed pretty cosy with the up and coming singer, Sombr. Any thoughts about that?”
You can practically feel Robert stifling a laugh beside you.
At some point the hounding questions into your dating life had become a running joke between you two. Feeling certain that he had made a bingo chart of all the possible people that talk show hosts and journalists might theorise you to be dating.
They roll a clip of the very show they were referencing.
With you wedged between guests on the iconic red couch. Supposedly very cosy beside the music guest, Sombr. As you all chat and smile, making your own little anecdotes. Laughing at Graham’s jokes. Adding your own praises for the talented artist, confessing that you at the time were listening to Dime on repeat.
The hosts send you a pointed look with grins upon their faces as though they had struck gold, “Perhaps you’d like to talk about this?”
“He is a talented singer and I enjoy his music. But I want to make it clear that I’m really not interested in dating at the moment. So you won’t be finding me on the dating scene anytime soon,” you reply, ending with a light laugh and shake of your head.
Could no one think to ask you of anything other than your love life? It was slowly becoming a drain on your energy.
….If only they knew.
That your heart was taken. Kept by the gentle, nurturing hands of a certain young man you had met years ago, in a little town called Broken Bow….
Dana looks at the screen, trying to get a gauge on what has her nurses so distracted, “Why are they asking her all these questions about her love life. Shouldn’t they just be asking her about the movie?” she asked with a deadpanned look.
“We just want to know that she’s being loved! She’s such a lovely person. If she’s not in love then there’s no hope for any of us,” Javadi explains with a slight dramatic edge to her words, while Princess nods in agreement.
“Oh she’s definitely on my hall pass list,” Santos nods.
Whitaker brows furrow at her words, “Hall pass list?”
Santos clicks her tongue. “You know a list of celebrities that you’d sleep with if given the chance, even if you’re in a relationship. I know your dating life is dry huckleberry, but surely you’ve heard of the list?”
He lets out a sigh with a small roll of his eyes.
“I told you, I have a girlfriend. We’re just doing long distance at the moment,” he said vaguely.
Santos folded her arms, “and I told you, I think you only use that as an excuse to dodge going out”
By all accounts his dating life was dry.
Throughout the months that he’d been living with her. Santos had not once seen him go out on a date.
At least none that she knew of.
To the point where everyone in the ER was fairly certain that the farmboy was most definitely single.
Even if he claimed to have a girlfriend. For all they knew it was simply a ruse to keep people off his back.
But there was little proof to show he was in a relationship.
…Little did anyone know.
That the very woman they were just fawning over.
Was the woman that held his heart in her hands.
His very own sweetheart.
A secret to the world. But simply each other’s peace and comfort. With nothing to prove.
“Why are we all standing here? We’ve got patients to see, people to check,” Robby clapped his hands, ushering everyone to move.
Snapping Whitaker out of his daze.
Away from his thoughts that drifted to you, and the memory of your hand intertwined within his.
Of the days when you had both first met almost 4 years ago.
Of that Summer where the sprawling fields seemed to glow a bit brighter.
Where the leaves felt more lush and the sky appeared more blue, as the air was laden thick with a sweetness.
How as the sun dipped down in the sky it felt like the cicadas were singing in tune with his heart. Lying in the fields side by side as you gazed up at the stars. As you confessed the dreams tightly knitted within your souls.
Words of hope filtering between you both.
He was there by chance.
Having returned home for part of the Summer break. As his nieces and nephews clung to him. Whilst he helped his family on the farm. Falling back into a rhythm, one he had come to miss while away studying.
But there was a distance.
Silences that stretched too long.
A gap that just never seemed to bridge between him and his family.
Always feeling a little misplaced among them.
As though peering from the outside in, made to feel different from.
He supposed that as the first to go to college. Let alone the first to study to become a doctor in his family. That the strain between him and his brothers would only worsen with each time he left to study.
With his parents left to feel unsure about his endeavours. Having never known this pathway before.
But Dennis’ ambitions didn’t waver.
Or at least he never showed his hesitations to his family.
Despite feeling out of place, he loved them.
And then he met you.
And he realised how much brighter the world could be. How much deeper his love could go. How much acceptance a person could feel.
Within your embrace you had given him a feeling of home he had never quite felt before. A sense of belonging washing over him as he stood by your side.
And it all began when his nieces and nephews had insisted on taking him to the movie set filming not far from the town of Broken Bow.
How they just had to see it. Eyes gleaming with curiosity.
It was very rare that a film crew would make its way to the rural town.
So rare that it had become a sort of spectacle amongst the town.
Some with intrigue and others simply waiting for the ‘city folk’ to leave them in peace.
From what Dennis had gathered it was a relatively small film. Not quite a superhero blockbuster. No starlets from vogue or actors from the covers of people’s choice.
He truly wasn’t sure what the movie was about.
Just that it was using the sprawling fields of Broken Bow, and the water ways up north as the backdrop.
And that it had made the younger kids of the town flock towards it just to catch a glimpse of the sets.
It was on this little trip, that he had bumped into you.
You were sneaking his nieces and nephews some snacks from the cast trailer, you smiled and answered their endless questions. Crouching to reach their height, nodding at their enthusiasm.
While Dennis trailed after them ready to apologise for their energetic behaviour.
Only for his words to be caught in his throat at the sight of you.
You had this presence.
Unpretentious.
Patient.
Charming.
It had bewitched him entirely.
And it seemed you had noticed. Giggling softly as you stood before him. Waving a hand in front of his eyes pulling him out of his trance.
Sticking a hand out you introduced yourself, as he shook your hand softly, but with an eagerness he couldn’t conceal.
You flashed him a smile. Bright and kindly.
Refreshed by his honest nature.
So unlike the people you met daily back in New York.
So unlike the guys that had looked upon you as though you were only there as decoration. Those men that had leered at you, never knowing when to take no as an answer. Or simply too self centred to even listen to a single word you said.
His willingness to listen, his attentive nature and humbleness made you drift towards his company.
That first meeting eventually spurred on into him showing you around town. Finding time to spend it with you. Days exploring what Broken Bow had to offer. From early morning sunrises, to sitting side by side watching as the Summer sun set in the sky, burnt oranges illuminating the fields.
You had savoured every moment together.
Together you found a balance.
In a world where all anyone had ever done was speak over you both. As they questioned your dreams, hopes and ambitions. You two had created a space for one another.
A space that allowed you both to breathe.
You made him feel as though he could come out of his shell, to peel back the layers of himself as he revealed his innermost thoughts.
The doubts he had never once voiced before.
How he loved what he was working towards. And how that didn’t stop the fears which settled alongside his ambitions.
All while you held his hand.
Steady and true. With an open ear and open heart.
You had made him feel wanted.
And he had made you feel safe.
Seen.
Desired.
From the moment he kissed you.
Under the expansive twinkling lights of the stars, on a balmy evening where the cicadas rang out. While your fingers entangled with the soft curls of his hair, as he pulled you softly against himself, arms wrapped around you.
In this town where very little happened.
With less than 4000 people.
You had found a person, a beautiful young man, who had made your heart feel full. Who had you seeing stars as he kissed you sweetly.
Then all too soon, the Summer was coming to an end.
Your movie had started to wrap up, and Dennis was due to return to college.
All too soon your world was starting to feel like it was crashing down on you. Not wanting this to end. Not wanting this romance to be a fleeting moment in your life. A passing memory.
So you had intertwined your pinky finger with his, however childish or naive it was, you had made him promise to keep in touch.
To make this last.
In response he placed a soft gentle kiss upon your intertwined fingers. Before pulling you into his arms as he hugged you tightly.
“Promise that when you become some superstar doctor you won’t leave me behind,” you had whispered softly.
As he murmured in response, with just as much conviction, “I would never. I could never leave you behind. I love you.”
Pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek with a grin, eyes full of love, “If anything, you’re going to be the superstar, with the world at your fingertips”
“Maybe someday…” you smile softly, in admiration of his belief in you.
Sighing in his arms. “I love you. And I’ll always be happy with you, kind, sweet, you.”
You make the long distance work.
With you in New York, while Dennis continued his studies. You persisted in your relationship.
Through rough patches and rocky roads. You always came through for each other.
From late nights spent talking endlessly on the phone. To being just a simple presence on the other side of the call, as you went over lines and he poured over his medical notes.
With weekend trips interspersed throughout, whether that was you visiting him or him visiting you in the city.
Savouring each second within his grasp.
He is there for all your big milestones. Supporting you every step of the way.
Words of encouragement drip from him like an endless fountain, even as your belief wavers. He never fails to make you believe in yourself.
And when that movie you had filmed all those months ago in Broken Bow finally gets released.
It became a hit.
As doors that were once closed now fly open for you. Stepping into spaces you had once dreamed about. Had once told Dennis all about.
You become a rising star.
He makes note of each big moment in your career. Filing them away for you to one day reminisce over. From magazine clippings, to interviews documented in the papers, to snapshots of you on talk shows, and photos from your press tours.
He is proud of each and every development in your career.
Just as proud as you are of him. Unwavering in your support of his work. You are the loudest to cheer as he graduates. With the widest smile spread across your face as he beams back at you.
You both felt extremely lucky to have each other by your sides. Cheering each other on.
You exchange letters. As he sends you love notes and pressed flowers. And you send him thoughtful gifts, new pens, stationary and books as he studies diligently.
You once asked him why he sent you love notes. Rather than simple texts or messages.
Without even missing a beat he had told you it felt more intimate. It felt special. Knowing that somewhere, hours away from him, in a different city, you would be there holding his words in your hands.
The very proof of his love for you.
Beating strong. Despite the distance.
Soon your fame grows more and more.
To the point where you have to be a little more conscious of what you say. Of where you go. Of how you’re seen.
As people grasped onto anything they could. Pulling theories out of thin air. Making edits of you alongside whoever else they deemed you should date. From costars to even passing figures in your life.
There was a huge focus on your personal life from your fans, to speculative journalists. All narrowing in on your love life.
The last thing you had wanted to do was put Dennis in an uncomfortable position.
In a position where he would be flooded with attention and pressure he shouldn’t be under, just because of your career. You wanted to preserve his privacy.
And selfishly you wanted to keep him to yourself.
A little slice of paradise all for yourself to enjoy and bask in. He had loved you long before you were famous. Loving you deeply, to the point where it felt there was no end to his love.
And he knew you loved him just as fiercely.
Never feeling unsure in his position in your heart. Knowing that at the end of every day he was yours, just as you were his to care for.
As he kept you to himself, a little secret that didn’t need to be shouted out to the world. Not needing approval or attention. All he wanted, no, needed was you.
“Hey love,” your words carried over the phone. Lying awake in bed as you stared up at the ceiling, the phone settled on your pillow as it was on loudspeaker.
Dennis’ soft voice echoes around your room, laced with a tiredness, “Hi sweetheart, what’re you up to?”
“Nothing much, just wanted to hear your voice”
A smile spreads across his face at your words, while you hear a faint typing come through the phone, “Are you studying?”
“Yeah, just writing up some notes from the day. Things I want to remember from next time”
“Don’t let me keep you then–”
“-No. No. It’s ok, I missed your voice too,” he cut you off, almost panicked that you would hang up. Following up quietly, “Tell me about your day, how did filming go today?”
And so you rambled on, in the peaceful hours of the evening. As he talks about his own day and all he’d done. Until soon you fall asleep from the sound of his voice. Soothed by him.
With every word of affection you had spilled to him.
From even the most mundane of things. He felt loved by you.
You had pulled him out of the shadows of his comfort zone and made him believe in himself, to become bolder. Confidence growing within him.
If only just to match your energy at times.
With more and more people chasing after you to star in their next film, their next show, project, or even stage play.
You gained more autonomy over your career. No longer having to say yes to everything. Now more able to be selective with your choices.
And with that flexibility you had also warranted yourself some time to visit Dennis, all the way in Pittsburgh.
Coming off the tail end of your press tour, having flown all across the country. Even going to London for further events, all in order to promote your film. Brushing shoulders with the stars of Hollywood, as cameras flashed in your face. Figure drenched in finely tailored looks, purposeful and pristine, all to convey the story of your film.
You were more than ready to have a little break.
To simply hold Dennis in your arms once more. Having craved him from the moment you let go of him last.
Too impatient to wait.
You leave the airport to travel straight to PTMC. Not wanting to wait a moment longer.
No longer decked in designer clothes.
Just dressed casually, with an effortless grace.
You make your way through the crowded waiting room, while everyone focuses on themselves. Unaware of who you are. Doing your very best to keep it that way.
You come up to the window, you spoke softly with a kindness in your eyes, “Hi, I’m here to visit Dennis Whitaker”
The woman nodded, “Is he expecting you?”
“No, I’m just an old friend stopping by to say hi,” you explained a little vaguely. Hands twisting a little from nerves.
“Oh, I can take her, Lupe,” A woman spoke up from behind as Lupe nodded in agreement.
Smiling, as you get brought through the doors, met by the woman from before.
“I’m Cassie,” she greeted you.
“N/N,” you stated your nickname. You didn’t need to make it too easy to recognise you.
“So you’re an old friend of Whitaker’s?” she asked. Observing you, you seemed familiar.
Like a face she couldn’t quite place. Despite the normality of your clothing or your casualness. There was a touch of something more than emanated from you.
“Yeah, I’m actually his girlfriend.” You confessed.
Her eyes widen a fraction, “So you are real”
Furrowing your brows at her words, “You didn’t think I was?”
“We hadn’t seen a photo of you before, so a few of us weren’t sure what to think of it,” she shrugged. “Not that I was one of them, but a few of the others mentioned it”
“Well I am definitely real,” you smiled. Understanding the assumption.
And then you stop in place, eyes locking onto the very man that made your heart skip a beat. Watching as he walks away from a patient’s bedside, as he looks up.
Eyes meeting yours from across the room.
And the biggest smile splits across his face. Tired eyes lighting up at the sight of you. As though the very presence of you had revitalised him.
Pace quickening, almost tripping over his own feet, hands tugging off the latex gloves tossing them away, as you walk just as briskly to meet him in the middle.
All thoughts fading from your mind. Simply just wanting to feel his touch.
Barely inches from each other, eyes locked, cheeks hurting from the way your lips are pulled into a wide smile. Genuine as it does nothing to hide your glee.
“Hi love,” your hand reaches up to cup his jaw, thumb gently caressing his cheek.
Leaning into your hold, he closes his eyes at the touch of your hand. “Hey sweetheart”
Biting your lip as you admire him now, how his scrubs fitted him. Hair tussled from the day, curling slightly at the edges. Honey brown strands that you reach for. Soft as you pull him towards you.
Lips catching his, feeling the plushness of his lips, the slight chapped texture as it melds against yours.
You hum in contentment. Before pulling away to simply tuck your head against his shoulder.
“I missed you,” you whispered.
Pressing a soft kiss to your head he smiled, “Missed you too”
It felt as though the movement all around you had come to a halt.
The eyes of his colleagues peering at him. At the little moment of bliss that had unfolded before their eyes.
“What the fuck?” Santos’ words sliced through the air.
Confusion crossing the features of many around the room.
Dennis’ eyes snap open from the words. A sheepish grin forming on his face, as heat rises to his cheeks. His hand intertwined with yours. “C’mon let’s go somewhere a little more private”
Teasingly you quip, “I just got here and already you want to get me alone, what would your mother say”
Your words only make his blush deepen, as he shakes his head at your accusations whilst you giggle lightly.
Your arm coiling around his, as he guides you to the breakroom. Only to be trailed after by his coworkers.
“You’re not getting away that easily, huckleberry.” Santos notes as she follows after him, while Javadi and Princess follows suit.
“Was that Y/N?” Mel asks Langdon while they stand at a nurses station. Watching as you and Dennis pass by.
Eyes flicking up to follow her pointed finger, Langdon’s own eyes widen a fraction, “Good for Whitaker,” he offers.
How he had managed to snag you was beyond Langdon’s imagination.
“Hey where’s everyone going? We’ve still got hand offs to go through,” Robby calls out with a raised brow, as Dana settles in beside him.
“Whitaker’s girlfriend came in,” Mohan replied. As she herself begins following everyone else.
“And?”
“And she’s the Y/N, as in the very famous actress everyone pines over,” Donnie whispers to them. Not wanting to alert the patients.
“And you know this, how?” Dana asks amusedly.
He purses his lips, “I told you my wife is a big fan. Do you think she’d be open to giving me an autograph? I just know my wife would flip if I got that for her”
“You might have to get in line, seems like everyone wants to meet Whitaker’s girlfriend,” Abbot slides into the conversation, jabbing a finger towards the growing crowd outside the breakroom.
“Don’t tell me you know who that is too?” Robby sends him an arched brow.
Shrugging, “She’s in some pretty cool films. The kid’s got game to pull her”
“Yeah, or he’s been bestowed some incredibly good luck,” Ellis adds as she leans against the bench.
“Good for him,” Dana replies.
“And good for me, means I win the bet,” Shen grins widely. With a cheeky glint in his eye.
They all scoff a laugh at his words. Shaking their heads at his unseriousness.
Santos stands before you both.
As you’re seated in the breakroom, his hand still entwined with yours, softly caressing the back of yours with his thumb. While you lean your head on his shoulder. Relishing being able to be by his side.
Javadi and Princess by her side as they observe the both of them.
A lovesick look adorned on both your faces. Glowing from happiness.
“Explain”
It made no sense.
How was Dennis Whitaker.
Huckleberry.
Her roommate.
Dating one of the most famous actresses at this point in time?
It made no sense at all.
Minds racing from thoughts at how this could be.
How the very person who was just on TV, supposedly in a secret relationship with whoever the media speculated about from high profile actors to heartthrob musicians.
Was in fact, dating her colleague, her roommate, her friend?
Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you ask sweetly, “Do you want me to explain, or do you?”
“I like the way you tell it, sweetheart,” he murmured back. Enamoured by your presence.
Turning back to the crowd forming before you.
“I love him, and he loves me, simple as that”
Princess interjects, “That is in no way simple.”
“C’mon we have to know more, I mean this is Whitaker we’re talking about,” Javadi states.
While Dennis’ brows furrow slightly at the insinuation. Only for it to melt as you only snuggle closer into Dennis’ side. “We’ve been together for 3 years now–”
“-almost 4,” he murmurs.
Nodding, “Almost 4,” looking back at them, “There’s really not much else to say”
“Why him?”
“Why not?” you retort. “Have you seen Dennis, this man has been working on a farm since he was a boy. He is ripped with a heart of gold beneath those scrubs”
Dennis rolls his eyes at your words. With a small chuckle escaping his lips. Feeling flushed by your compliments.
Turning to gaze at him. “Besides, he’s only ever loved me for me. Not for anything else.”
“I love you too,” he replied gently. Those words he never held back in telling you.
Turning to each other you hear his friends comment, “These two are way too cute to be real”
“Surely she’s under some sort of spell,” Santos states, looking to you, “Hey blink three times if you need help”
Laughing, you reply, “I promise this is real and not just some weird stunt.”
Grinning as you add, “Dennis might’ve also mentioned some sort of list and me being on it”
Santos’ eyes widen as she shoots Dennis a scalding look of betrayal.
“I’m flattered. But unfortunately I’m happily taken”
“Well that solves that question,” Princess shrugs.
“So who do you think won the bet?-”
“Make it rain, make it rain, make it rain~” The tune of Shen singing out enters the room.
“Yeah, I wonder who,” Santos replies sarcastically.
Finally left alone you bury your head into his neck, as he holds you firmly against him. “Your friends seem nice”
“I think they were just a bit caught off guard”
“Were you surprised?” you asked.
“Most definitely,” he maneuvers slightly to press kisses upon your cheeks until they are pressed firmly against your lips.
Letting out a sigh of content, pulling apart just barely.
“How long do I have you this time?”
“Two weeks until I need to get back,” you say sadly.
Nodding, with a sad smile, “Well, let’s enjoy it while it lasts.”
Loving Dennis wasn’t difficult.
Being loved by him was easy.
But being kept apart. That was a hurdle you never quite seemed to get used to.
Just waiting for the day when you could simply go back to your very own home, together.
But for now, you’d wade through the struggles of long distance. You’d dodge the prying eyes of the media.
However that didn’t mean you had to hide it from Dennis’ friends.
Slowly letting more and more people into your little bubble.
Even if they were completely baffled by how.
It was endearingly sweet to witness.
The way you were both completely besotted by each other.
Content to simply bask in each other's embrace.
As the chaos and noise of the world faded away.
Being brought back to that moment beneath the starry night skies and chirping cicadas.
Where Dennis had first kissed you all those years ago.
A moment you’d cherish forever.
Keeping it tucked within the memory of your heart.
Alongside so many other memories by his side.
Hoping to make many more.
And Dennis was all in.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought about this little story. This was a really fun idea to explore. (I may have gone overboard with fluff but whatever. I also used The Drama and put the reader in place of Zendaya, she just felt like the right vibe to emulate) Feel free to send in other requests if you have something in mind 😊
Also vaguely inspired by the song Bewitched by Laufey
Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕
Feel free to find my Dennis Whitaker x Former Army Medic!Reader Tread Lightly Series here
Feel free to find my Dr Robby x Wayne!Reader Rinse & Repeat Series Masterlist here 🩺
Or check out my overall Masterlist here
drew being obsessed with actress!reader for 10 minutes (wife edition)
masterlist | actress!reader masterlist
based off an ask, and a sort of sequel to this. enjoy <3
when he stopped mid-interview to watch her…
“I absolutely love your suit, could you tell us a little about it?” An interviewer asked Drew before turning the microphone towards him. Drew chuckled before smoothing a hand down the front of his suit bashfully. It was something a bit more daring than what he’d done in the past for events like these, a neutral, abstract pattern on the buttoned jacket over his bare chest, which poked out the top. His gold chain and matching earring glittered under the intense light as he bit his lip.
“Yeah, I thought I’d do something a little… fun? Risky? I don’t know.” Drew laughed. He looked around for a second, his eyes following the directions the cameras were angled towards before landing on y/n. She stood there, posing perfectly in the light, showing off the different angles of her form-fitting dress.
“But, uh, it’s—” Drew tried to continue, but his brain suddenly felt fuzzy as y/n turned to the side with a sway of her hips. He found himself watching, lips slightly parted as he was practically turned away from the interviewer, focus completely diverted towards his beautiful wife. The interviewer laughed, Drew’s focus immediately snapping back towards the interviewer (well, mostly, he kept stealing glances over his shoulder every couple of seconds).
“I— sorry, what was the question?” Drew said, running his hand along his jaw as he chuckled.
“A little distracted?” The interviewer teased, causing Drew’s cheeks to blush bright red.
“Yeah,” Drew grinned. “But I mean, can you blame me? That’s my beautiful wife!”
when he first called her “wife”...
“Good afternoon, Mr Starkey, we’re so happy to have you here.” The waiter nodded towards Drew as the two of them settled into their seats. The restaurant was absolutely beautiful, with crisp, linen tablecloths and glittering chandeliers hanging around the elegant dining room. They didn’t often go out to dinners like this, but after Drew was able to snag a highly sought after reservation for their anniversary, y/n was quite excited.
“And, Mrs Starkey, we’re—” The waiter continued, causing to choke on the sip of (likely expensive) champagne she’d just taken. Across the table, Drew’s eyes widened slightly.
“I’m sorry, are you alright, miss?” The waiter leaned in, a look of concern on his face as y/n coughed. She waived him off, her coughing slowly abiding.
“Yes, sorry.” Y/n cleared her throat. “Just… went down the wrong pipe.”
Drew tried to hide his smirk as he caught her eye.
“Well, alright.” The waiter straightened. “As I was saying, Mrs Starkey, we’ve very glad to have you here tonight.”
“Well, thank you.” Drew grinned up at the waiter. “My wife and I are happy to be here this evening.”
Y/n let out a small, involuntary gasp she hadn't even realized she’d been holding. The waiter flashed the two of them one last practiced smile before leaving the table.
“‘My wife’?” Y/n asked with a quirk of her brow.
“Well, you’re gonna be one day.” Drew shrugged, a mischievous grin on his face as he took a sip of champagne. Y/n let out a chuckle, shaking her head as she felt her cheeks warm.
“Might as well get used to it.” Drew added with a wink.
when he got drunk and wouldn’t stop talking about her…
“No, dude, but for real…” Drew slurred, his arm draped around JD’s shoulders, who looked simultaneously terrified and amused. It was well past midnight, and after a night full of drinking with the rest of the OBX cast in Croatia, Drew was— for a lack of better words— absolutely sloshed.
“She is, like, soooo pretty.” Drew continued, a wide smile spreading across his flushed cheeks.
“Who is?” Madison teased with a giggle. Drew’s eyes widened, his mouth falling agape.
“MY WIFE!” Drew shouted, throwing his hands up dramatically. JD flinched, trying his best to stifle his laughter as Drew looked around with an exasperated look on his face.
“Look at— where is my phone, I need to show you a picture of her.” Drew slurred before he began patting at his pockets before finally fumbling his phone out.
“Drew, we know what y/n looks like.” JD chuckled as Drew shoved his lockscreen— a picture of him, y/n, and Charleston smiling on the beach— in his face.
“No, you don’t understand!” Drew said. “She is so pretty and funny a– and talented and cool and—”
“Ok, Starkey, I think we get it, you love your wife.” Carlacia laughed as she took a sip of her drink. Drew let out a long sigh as she sunk back into his seat, a lovesick expression on his face as he smiled.
“She’s just the best… I wish she was here.” Drew murmured to himself.
when he refused to call her anything other than “wife”...
“WIFE!” Drew shouted from the kitchen of the small, Grecian cottage the two of them were staying in. The doors leading out to the patio were wide open, allowing for the fresh, sea salt air to gently blow through the house.
“What?” Y/n chuckled as she turned around from the lounger she was sitting on. She peered over her sunglasses at Drew as he stood in the kitchen. He was wearing his swimtrunks, his tanned skin and gold chain glittering in the sunlight, and had a cheeky grin on his face as he looked at her, very much pleased with himself.
“Do you want another spritz, wife?” Drew asked, holding up a bottle of Aperol.
“Sure, Drewseph.” Y/n giggled, rolling her eyes playfully. Drew winked at her before pouring out two big glasses adorned with orange slices. Y/n laughed again before turning back to the book resting in her lap. Her skin was warm under the sun, her eyes continually darting from the words on her page to the way her diamond ring glittered in the sunlight. Even after a week of saying “I do”, y/n still found herself in complete disbelief over the fact that she was married.
“Here you are, wife.” Drew sang as he walked out onto the patio, a glass full of refreshing orange spritz in each hand. Y/n felt her cheeks warm, shaking her head bashfully before taking one of the glasses. Drew leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of y/n’s head before sinking down into the lounger next to y/n. The two of them had spent the majority of their honeymoon (well, whenever they weren’t in the bedroom, that was) outside soaking up the sun and basking in each other's presence for the first time as a married couple.
“Thank you, Starkey.” Y/n teased before taking a long sip of her drink and turning back to her book. Drew watched her, a grin on his face. After a while, y/n felt his eyes on her and turned to look over at him.
“What?” Y/n giggled, quirking a brow.
“Just looking at my beautiful wife.” Drew murmured, reaching out to brush a piece of y/n’s hair out of her face. Y/n felt her cheeks warm under Drew’s intense gaze.
“Are you gonna call me that forever now?” Y/n chuckled.
“You’re gonna be my wife forever, yeah?” Drew asked, reaching out to grasp y/n’s hand.
“Of course.” Y/n said, squeezing Drew’s hand gently.
“Then I’m always gonna call you my beautiful—” Drew pressed a kiss to y/n’s hand, “smart—” another kiss further up her arm, “talented—” another kiss further upwards, “and perfect wife.”
He pressed a long kiss to y/n’s lips. She melted into him, a hand moving to smooth along his broad chest. Drew pulled back slightly, his blue eyes raking over y/n’s face.
“If that’s alright with you, wife?” Drew murmured, his hand brushing against the skin that rested just under the band of y/n’s bikini top
hi lovely if you’re not too busy i loved your popstar fics so much, can i request a will smith hockey x actress reader? and he has a crush on her and makes it public and she goes to a sharks game and the media goes crazy? if it makes sense do what ever you want with it <3 thank you so much!🫶
celebrity crush
pairing:will smith x actress!reader
summary:during a podcast will makes it public that you’re his celebrity crush once you find out you decide to show up to his game.
warning:fluff, mention of y/n, ending is open ended…
a/n:thank you so much for the request <3!! (this isn’t the best but I tried. Hope you like it!!)
main masterlist
I was sitting on my couch watching some ridiculous reality tv show with a light pink blanket on me and my dog lying beside me.
I just got back from filming a new movie in South Carolina and I am extremely exhausted.
My phone buzzed just as my eyes were about to close. It was from my best friend, Wilma.
Wilma <3
Have you seen this video???
“Who’s your celebrity crush?” Somebody asks.
Will sits there for a second.
“Y/n l/n.”
The guy laughs. “Hopefully she’s watching this.”
Will’s face turns red as he starts laughing.
He’s cute.
Very cute actually.
What’s his name?
Wilma <3
Will Smith he plays hockey for San Jose 😏
That’s perfect. San Jose is only 30 minutes away from me.
I look up tickets for their next home game.
January 6, 7:00pm.
I order two tickets, one for me and Wilma, because I don’t want to go alone.
The next day I go out to look for his jersey.
As I find it, which was pretty easy.
“$200!” I whispered.
I sigh, “The things I do.”
That night me and Wilma go out for dinner at a nice restaurant.
“So did you get his jersey?” Wilma asks.
“Yea.”
“He’s gonna flip.”
“What are you going to wear for the game tomorrow?”
“I have a San Jose shirt.”
Game day finally comes and I’m nervous but excited.
I grab the jersey from the back of my chair and put it on with a pair of jeans and black heeled boots.
While spraying my perfume my phones buzzes.
Wilma <3
I’m here
I let out a sigh and grab my purse before I walk out the door.
The arena is buzzing with fans and music blasting in my ears.
Me and Wilma get some food and drinks. We settle down in our seats and start eating.
Just as I finish I feel someone tap my shoulder.
“Hi I was wondering if I could get a photo with you?” A, most likely, teenage girl asks.
“Of course.” I smile
She gets her phone out a takes a selfie of us.
“Thank you so much.” She says smiling.
“Of course sweetheart.”
A few minutes later the teams come out for warmups and the camera immediately lands on Will.
Wilma bumps her shoulder into mine. My face turns red as I start smiling.
His blonde hair sticking out from under his helmet, his blue eyes has a little shimmer in them as he smiles at whatever his teammate said to him.
The arena suddenly erupts I look up and realize I’m on the jumbotron. I smile and send a wave towards it.
“Hopefully Will saw that.” Wilma said.
I shake my head but the grin is still on my face.
The Sharks won 5-4 Will scored a goal and had two assists.
Wilma drops me off at my apartment and I take a shower and put on comfortable clothes.
I open Instagram and immediately see the picture I took with the girl and a couple of me from far away. With the caption:
Y/n l/n wearing Will Smiths jersey 🤨
she must’ve seen the interview 😭😭
lowkey could see them together
they would be the most attractive couple
A few minutes later of scrolling through the comments I get a notification.
sfw / fem actress!reader, fluff(?) ) it’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it? he just never would’ve expected this from all your public appearances! you were always so classy, so graceful. not shy, but certainly mysterious and awfully tame for an actress, especially given the genres you often starred in. every interview you gave was a calm and rational affair, so different from his own where reporters would try to dig deep into his soul and trauma. for a while, michael had honestly pinned you as quite plain— you can only imagine his shock when he found out your true nature.
tonight serves as a good example for it. as soon as he returned to the hotel, you were on him. really, he’d barely made it through the door of suite 352 before you’d taken hold of his hand, casually pulling him out of the hallway and into the bedroom. it didn’t seem to matter that it was late or that he’d just finished a performance; you were a beast untamed, completely silent as you urged him onto the bed.
it wasn’t until you’d finally slithered on top of him that you spoke, your voice low and intimate. “i missed you.” your expression betrayed no shame over the behavior, an aspect of you that michael’s always admired. you don’t know how else to love other than deeply and passionately. the only thing reflected in your eyes is his own breathless smile and a strong, unsatiated voraciousness, the likes of which only you could possess.
if he were any younger, any more naive, he’d be too embarrassed to even look you in the eye. but he’s old enough now to understand women. or, at the very least, understand you. it’s why he doesn’t flinch away when your legs end up on either side of his waist, though you don’t seem intent on taking off his belt or even riding it tonight judging by how you’ve positioned yourself: loosely straddling him, although you’re mostly just laying on his chest. you reach for his right hand, bringing it up towards your lips and kissing his fingertips, which causes him to chuckle.
“you had me for a second there, miss bossy,” he says playfully, his left hand coming to rest along your lower back, brushing gingerly through the fabric of your top. “what’s gotten into you tonight?”
“i just missed you,” you mumble against his index, kissing and kissing until it accidentally slips behind the plush of your lips. michael doesn’t pull it out, mostly because you’re holding his wrist and keeping it there— yeah, that falls more in line with your behavior when he first came in. you swirl your tongue around it, coating his pointer finger in saliva as you taste the subtle traces of sweat leftover from the show. then you slide the finger out of your mouth, allowing him the opportunity to wipe it clean and dry it.
“yeah, i can see that,” he breathes out. michael’s always wondered if other people do the things you do. you’re more experienced than him, so maybe? he really would like to assume all girls like to suck their man’s fingers, but he has a sneaking suspicion that it’s just you. he pauses, swiping his thumb along your lower lip as he teasingly asks, “what? your little boyfriend didn’t call today?”
a scoff leaves your lips. he loves seeing it, that annoyed expression. he loves knowing it’s not for him. it’s for your boyfriend— husband, if we’re being technical— that idiot you married when you were too young to know better. “he doesn’t matter right now.”
“i’m what matters, right?”
“mmhm,” you hum in response, kissing the pad of his middle finger. you sigh as he cups your chin, squishing your cheeks between his fingers and thumb. “i missed you a lot.”
“i missed you, too,” micheal admits, his head tilting. “touring’s more fun when you’re here. i think of you onstage, too. you should come to at least one show, hide out in the crowd. no one will see you. and, even if you were seen, your boyfriend probably wouldn’t mind if you happened to be there. really… he knows how close we are as friends...” he lets his fingers trail down, grazing against your neck just to watch you instinctively swallow.
“michael!” you huff, already tired of him mentioning the other man.
he shrugs, “i’m just saying, baby. i want you there. just consider it. in the meantime…” he offers his hand again, wiggling his fingers playfully. “i’m not sure what you find so delicious about them,” he murmurs as you suck lightly along his ring and middle fingers, “but i can’t complain about getting a private show, now can i?”
author’s note ) i just wanted to suck his fingers, i don’t know where anything else came from… anyways i feel like michael deff enjoys calling your husband "your boyfriend" or "that guy" or "that boy you like". he knows you're his, i imagine he's simply waiting for the best time to bring up you leaving him (because you will, michael's sure). whatever. suck his fingers sunday guys spread it. please. need more michael jackson finger sucking.
pairing: jaafar jackson x actress!reader (i imagine a black reader but feel free to imagine whatever <3)
summary: you're a beloved actress, finally taking a well-deserved break from it all... until you get roped into a chemistry read for a potential rom-com. you have every intention on passing up on the offer, but press for the michael biopic has officially wrapped and the internet is craving more of jaafar jackson. how can you decline when the studio offers him as your love interest?
tags: slow burn, you have an agent named corinne, you're both each other's celebrity crushes, fem!reader, long hair jaafar mmm, reader is thirsting just like the rest of us fr, this will be a series!! i have so many idea for this ahhh
one (current). two.
if there was one person that you knew better than the back of your hand, it would be your agent. of course that was hardly a challenge— considering that you were blood cousins before business partners.
you doubled as her dress up doll and client from a young age. you landed your first acting job, with your agent's help, at the age of eight: a low budget family-film following a girl who'd began to receive letters from fairies. it was a movie with terrible special effects that continued to haunt you, especially on social media, to this day. thankfully, it had been outshined by 'bridge to terabithia' shortly after its release.
there was no clean break between childhood and everything that came after. just years that filled themselves with scripts and call times. there was never really a gap between your offers—sometimes in supporting roles, sometimes loudly in leads that put your face on billboard and magazines— though you still tried to keep your private life as private as possible.
nineteen years later, you'd felt like the studios scattered throughout california had been your real home— and the penthouse suite in encino was just a placeholder. somewhere that held your name, but rarely held your body.
you loved the industry, but you could admit that you were tired. it was time for a break. in fact, you were a few months into one when you got the call.
the first warning was the time. 12:45 am stared back at you from the top left corner of the incoming facetime request. the second warning being just that: facetime. your agent stuck to regular phone calls and texts. sometimes, even emails. never video requests.
you slouched deeper into your couch unconsciously, fingers tapping against your thigh as you stared. you could see your reflection in the rectangular frame, lit up from the trashy reality show re-runs on your tv.
you considered letting the call run, but curiosity won before the ringing stopped.
when you accepted the call, the third warning herself sat at a wooden table with folded hands and a bright smile. corinne looked freshly pressed in a blazer and her hair tight curls into a low bun. the complete opposite of your oversized hoodie and mess of braids thrown onto the top of your head.
suspicious... it was nearly one in the morning and your agent looked like she had just met with an executive.
you didn't need a fourth, or even fifth, warning but they arrived with corinne's quick clap and excited promise of 'good news!'. your hope of it being a non-business conversation officially vanished.
"which corinne am i talking to right now?"
"i need you to keep an open mind—"
her voice stops mid-sentence as you tap the red button and shove the phone in your pocket, only for it to buzz again seconds later.
and buzz again after that attempt goes to voicemail.
you pull your phone out on the third call attempt and lean over the mound of blankets to toss it to the floor. there's silence for a handful of heartbeats before it restarts its incessant buzzing. the vibrations shift your phone gradually under the couch.
you feel your frustration building. this is not what you wanted to do on a tuesday night. what you wanted to do on a tuesday night hung across from you on the wall, paused in the middle of an over exaggeratingly emotional scene. you blindly reach for your phone and accept the call.
"you promised me at least six months off, corrine." you start, turning on the nearest lamp. the contempt was clear on your face. "it's been half of that."
but corinne shows no signs of hearing her. "listen, i think that you might really want to hear this."
your head dropped to the back of the couch. last year had been soul sucking— to put it politely. the main series you'd been cast in had finally wrapped after six long years. on top of that, between the end of filming and the start of promo, your most recent relationship had officially died. which, honestly, was a long time coming. but there was hardly time to celebrate between the ambush of interviews, photoshoots, and publicity events followed by even more interviews, photoshoots, and publicity events. corinne had been unreserved in her support of you when you brought up taking a hiatus.
you'd even tarted to have normal-ish days together! lunch dated with no mentions of contracts. spa days at corinne's home a few miles east, where corinne didn't check her email but one time. craft nights at your place. and your favorite: your late night movie viewings. between your re-watches of the recent michael jackson biopic and the influx of horror movies this summer— you were in movie heaven.
of course, all good things must come to an end.
"the studio wants you for a romantic comedy."
you fought the urge to hang up and turn the phone off. what part of hiatus didn't she understand? no, you had never done a rom-com before; not unless you counted the coming-of-age movie you were in nearly a decade ago. but you were sure this wouldn't be the last. there would be another opportunity— after you'd had your six months of peace and quiet. you let out a sigh and began to reject the offer as you moved to the kitchen.
"(name), listen," corinne emphasizes, "just listen before making any decision. this project is already greenlit. the studio isn't shopping around— they want you. it'll be a quick filming in cali. and a short location shoot."
"location shoot?"
"it's a wedding rom-com."
phone propped up against a vase full of peonies, you pulled a barstool up and sat at the kitchen island. you rubbed at your eyes immediately after. your sleep schedule was ruined, but that was your right. as a woman on a hiatus.
"yeahhh... respectfully, i'm gonna decline—"
"the male lead is already in discussions. they want a chemistry testing, but it's just procedural—"
your hand had already began to inch towards the bright red 'end' as you cut corinne off, "still declining, by the way."
"but you wouldn't if you would just listen to who they're hoping for—"
"— a man won't ever change my mind." you'd been a half second away from ending the call when corinne leaned forward suddenly, hands spread and face centered on the screen.
"it's jaafar."
your finger twitched, but still hovered in front of your phone. a satisfied smirk fell over your agent's face as she re-iterated, "jackson. jaafar jackson."
your arm fell flat against the island, the urge to hang up forgotten.
jaafar jackson.
now, don't take this the wrong way. it's not that you were in love with him— or even crushing. no! you didn't know him outside of what you'd seen in the biopic. which, obviously, wasn't much considering he was playing his uncle and not himself.
but your social media algorithm had begun to peak your interest. it must have been an offhand sentence about him spoken aloud, maybe about how much you loved the biopic around the third or fourth viewing, that made instagram recommend his account to you. that made twitter show that each day, another of your mutuals would follow him.
and it must have been your slight scroll through his account, that made him start to appear on your 'for you page' through accounts that have him tagged. you'd even seen the workout thumbnails of him from his personal trainers' page.
no, you didn't watch them. you swear.
you did, however, see how often they came up. different outfits, longer hair, leaner body, sharper facial structure. jaafar had trained long and hard for the role in every way, and put so much care into it. he'd represented the king of pop while simultaneously shining a spotlight on himself. you couldn't deny your admiration towards people who loved what they did and were good at it at the same time.
corinne watched as you leaned back in the barstool chair. "they think that you two are... the pairing."
you blinked once. twice. you hated to entertain this... but, "and he's aware and okay with this?"
"more than okay with it, though he has some reservations. he's never done anything like this before. the studio has been circling him since the biopic's release. girl, you haven't seen the hold he's had over the internet? jaafar is the new it boy. there's a long list of petitions on twitter for him to be casted in any and everything."
a soft hum left your lips as you grabbed your phone. the facetime call window shrinking to the corner as you pulled up twitter to confirm for yourself.
you wondered what kind of reservations he could have. you'd never watched an interview of his, but he seemed confident enough? he definitely had the drive to do whatever he put his mind to.
"obviously, there's no gun to your head. you can still decline. but like i said, they want a chemistry read. nothing needs to be accepted until offers are officially given."
"when do they want to meet?"
"thursday, first week of august." corinne looks up in thought, "about three weeks to read the script and think it over."
with a final agreement and corinne's lackluster attempt at hiding her excitement, the video call ends. an email notification appears within minutes.
FW: SILVERGATES PICTURES *CONFIDENTIAL- Script for Review + Chemistry Read Info
maybe, just maybe, your tuesday night plans could change.
you got to work in the kitchen; pulling a serving bowl out and filling it with mainly chocolate. you set up your tea kettle and leaned against the counter, scrolling through instagram. you didn't make it far before seeing a head of curly hair hidden beneath a hat, grey sweatpants, and a stretch band connecting him to that dreaded fuckign trampoline.
immediately exiting out of the app and putting your phone down, you decided to stare at a kitchen cabinet and wait. you needed to use social media less anyway.
when you'd finally settled back into your pile of blankets, you opened your email and began to skim through preliminary dates and times before finally seeing a link. the website to access the script had been passwotd protected. the script itself was watermarked on each page with the studio name and 'your name 'prepared for:' followed by your name.
you felt yourself hesitate when getting to the beginning of scene one and reminded yourself to take a deep breath. nothing was set in stone and you had plenty of time to decide if this would break your hiatus. honestly, you could dislike the script.
you could go to the chemistry read and dislike the directors and producers.
hell, you could go to the chemistry read and dislike jaafar jackson.
in a twisted way, all of that brought you enough comfort to start your first read of the script.
.✦ ݁˖
you loved the script.
you loved it so much that you stayed up until 5 that morning reading all 107 pages. you'd taken pauses throughout to squeal and kick your feet. you'd cried at a heartfelt scene where simone opens up about her past. you'd run a full lap throughout your apartment when simone and theo finally kissed on page 89. unable to contain your excitement.
then you remembered that you would potentially be playing simone when you were supposed to be on hiatus— your first real break in three years— and you forced yourself not to think about the script for a week. you closed your laptop, shoved it under your bed, and tried desperately to focus on anything else.
that week passed slowly. you found yourself right back on that password protected website— opening the script at home, on walks around your neighborhood, in line at the grocery store. the website had become the first suggestion every time you opened your browser and searched the internet.
your agent called to check in on a random wednesday afternoon and you, in an attempt to save face, claimed that you hadn't read the script yet. of course, your voice pitched up slightly when you lied— it always did— and corinne caught on immediately, calling you out. you weren't upset at being caught. not when it gave you an opportunity to talk about the story line. how the characters felt so real and lived in. how much you wish you had a theo in real life— someone who saw you for who you truly were beneath all the noise.
you hated that you loved the script. you hated how badly you wanted to bring simone to life, to inhabit this character who felt like she'd been written specifically for you. though, there was still a chance to save your hiatus— you had two things left to consider before making any final decisions.
the crew.
and jaafar.
.✦ ݁˖
the sixth of august arrived faster than you expected.
you chewed on your bottom lip as you shut the door to your car and glanced up at the beige building standing before you. it was unremarkable and easy to miss if you weren't looking for it. no flashy signs or logos. it looked like every other casting office in los angeles. you wondered if they designed it this way on purpose, to make figuring out upcoming movies and casts much more difficult for tabloids and gossip sites constantly hunting for information.
corinne met you halfway through the parking lot with a bump to your shoulder as a greeting. she was in the middle of a phone call, her voice professional, but turned to you with a thumbs up and a smile. her hand flipped to a thumbs down and frown before she raised her eyebrows in question and waited expectantly.
you laughed and responded with a thumbs up and an exaggerated grin/ you felt a little nervous, but your curiosity outweighed it by far.
inside, the receptionist directed you to a set of elevators. you drowned out corinne's phone call as you stepped inside and glanced behind you. the elevator cabin was made entirely of glass, giving you a perfect view of the city— los angeles skyline a glittering, sun-drenched sea of glass and steel. you turned your head back in time for the elevator doors to open to a waiting area.
sunlight poured through floor to ceiling windows overlooking the surprisingly empty parking lot, washing everything in a warm glow. a row of cream-colored chairs lined a wall beside a coffee station with paper cups stacked neatly next to a selection of teas and flavored creamers. you scanned the room discreetly but didn't recognize a single face amongst the bodies. a few people scrolled through their phones, one person rehearsed lines under their breath.
the door to a room down a short hallway opened just as you took a step toward the chairs. you turned to see a slightly older woman with thick, dark hair framing her face. her smile was immediate when seeing you standing near the elevators. she practically skipped over, raising a hand when she came closer.
"(name), good morning! we're so excited to have you here today," the woman uses both of her hands to shake yours, warm and welcoming. "can i get you anything before we head into the conference room? water? coffee?"
"thank you for having me," you stated politely before declining the offer, just slightly too nervous to drink anything at that moment. the woman introduces herself as amelie, the director, as you head back in the direction that she came from. your shoulders tense up at hearing this woman was the lead of this whole thing. first impressions were everything.
"you have no idea how long i've been trying to get my hands on you! busy woman you are," amelie says with an easy laugh. "not gonna lie, i was a little scared you weren't gonna show. wouldn't blame you— if i was on hiatus they'd have to send a swat team to drag me back to work."
the tightness in your shoulders eased. directors didn't usually lead with genuine enthusiasm; they led with agendas. there was no performance in amelie's warmth.
"that definitely would've been needed if i was on the beach somewhere," you joked in return, matching amelie's energy. you continued conversing on your short walk down the hallway, amelie asking about your recent projects and complimenting your work. framed posters from previous studio projects line the wall. as amelie opens the door for you to enter the conference room, you can see even more posters waiting to be viewed inside, a gallery of the studio's history.
in the middle of the room sits a long wooden table with black rolling chairs surrounding it. every chair is occupied but three- with one of the three being at the head of the table. at the other end of the table sits a man with a face that says he'd rather be anywhere but here, arms crossed and expression flat. four chairs line one side of the table: two men and two women, all with stacks of papers and open laptops in front of them. on the other side of the table sits the last two empty chairs.
completely centered. side by side. waiting.
you make your way around the table, shaking everyone's hands as you exchange greetings. two producers with opposing personalities , an extremely serious studio executive, and the sweet casting director who immediately made you feel at ease sit at the four seats. the grumpy man at the end is introduced as the casting assistant.
the muffled sound of an elevator ding sounds out right as you take your seat. amelie's smile grows even larger as she mumbles something about 'perfect timing' and rushes out.
the casting director— closest by far to your age— makes conversation with you while you wait. it doesn't take long for the door to open again, maybe two minutes at most.
it's almost as if the room molds and morphs itself to give him space when he walks in.
the photos online don't do him justice. he's much taller than you expected, though he moves around the room as if he's attempting to not seem so intimidating. you wonder if it's working for everyone else; if you're the only one just a little star struck by his presence.
jaafar's hair is slightly longer than it was when wrapping the michael press tour, soft curls peeking beneath his baseball cap. he holds a shy smile on his face as amelie very conspicuously cheers behind him—proud of herself and her team for putting jaafar and you in the same room, for making this chemistry read happen.
he starts to make his way around the table, starting at the casting assistant at the far end. jaafar gives everyone a polite smile and handshake as he introduces himself, his voice low and smooth. you finds your eyes drifting from the soft dimple in his cheek when he smiles to the way his arms look with his black crewneck pulled up to his elbow. you blink a few times and look away to gather your thoughts before glancing back over, trying to seem casual.
you rise from your chair as he rounds the table towards your seats, suddenly very aware of your posture. you smile and hold your hand out. "hi—" you feels herself waver as you make direct eye contact. "i'm (name). it's really nice to meet you."
"i'm jaafar. it's a pleasure to meet you," he replied in a soft, even tone, taking your hand in his to shake. his hand is warm and his grip is gentle.
"i loved the biopic—honestly, i think i might be responsible for at least half of the ticket sales."
jaafar looks surprised, lips parted and eyes following you as you shift from one foot to the other, before becoming bashful, "thank you. that means a lot coming from you. really."
a clap sounds throughout the room before amelie starts the meeting, pulling everyone's attention to the front. you, suddenly aware that your hands were still connected for several seconds too long, pulled away from jaafar before sitting. he followed your lead and sat beside you. you expect him to shift over to give you both more room, but he stays. you glance at him from the corner of your eye as he settles in and spreads his legs to get comfortable.
you were sure that your knees would bump if you shifted even slightly to the left.
as amelie talks about the expectations of the chemistry read and information about the characters themselves— their backstories, their motivations, their arc throughout the film—you reach for the lone script waiting on the table between you and jaafar.
at the exact same time as him.
you snatch your hand back instantly when your fingers brush and whisper, "uh…sorry, go ahead. i can pull it up on my phone." you reach for your back pocket, looking up when you hear something sliding closer to you.
jaafar had pulled the script to the very end of the table, but not towards him. the script now sat perfectly in the middle of you both. "we can share," he looks up at you suddenly, meeting your eyes. you watch as he lifts a hand to the back of his neck, "if that's okay with you?"
"oh... yeah. yeah, that's fine."
you let out a nervous laugh as jaafar's attention turns back to amelie and the script. looking around discreetly, you see that every person in this room had their own script copy in front of them; everyone but the two of you. as you go to look back at the script, you catch the expression of the casting director—
who had been watching you and jaafar with a slight smirk on her face and twinkle in her eye, clearly pleased.
and looked away as soon as she noticed you looking at her.
"—we're going to be looking at a few scenes from the second act. don't worry about being perfect. we're not looking for perfection." amelie opens her script and states the page number clearly. "we can start with scene thirty-six."
jaafar finds the page and smooths the stapled corner to make it flat before returning it to the middle, adjusting it so you can both see comfortably. you lean forward slightly, shoulders nearly touching, the space between you minimal.
"frank will be jumping in for the lines of missing characters," amelie continues. every head in the room turns to the casting assistant. the grumpy man who had barely spoken more than two words since you arrived. "(name). jaafar. whenever you're ready. take your time."
you glance at jaafar quickly before taking a deep breath and beginning.
NOTES: based on this ask, I took some creative liberties with the background plot but I think you'll love it
TW: smut, reader is a virgin, definitely manipulative ben but it's in a very delicious way, younger!actress!reader (they're costars), oral + fingering (f receiving), spitting in mouth, fingers in mouth, unprotected sex, coming inside, ben being yucky but also dreamy and perfect
Masterlist
It starts as a studio thing.
A clean, patriotic, Vought film—hero meets heart, Soldier Boy resurrected alongside a fresh-faced darling half his age. The press eats it up. You’re the ingénue; he’s the legend. Every photo op is gold. He keeps his hand at your back, not your waist. He pulls out your chair. He gives the quotes they want.
“She’s a real class act,” he says with a warm smile. “Don’t see much of that anymore.”
He calls you “sweetheart” in interviews, like it’s endearing. Like he’s harmless.
Off-camera, somehow, he’s even better.
Ben doesn’t crudely flirt. He escorts. He walks on the street side of the sidewalk. Orders your dinner before you get the nerve to pick something yourself—but somehow, it’s always what you like. He keeps you close without ever crossing a line. No rumors. No tension. Just steady, quiet confidence that settles somewhere in your chest and stays there.
Sure, he can be a little rough around the edges, but he’s lived through so much—wars, real ones—and there’s something about that kind of survival that earns a little grit.
He doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t push. Not once.
And you? You trust him completely and he’s never, not once, given you a reason to question that trust.
So when he invites you over after a late press run—low voice, light touch, “just dinner, sweetheart. just the two of us.”—you don’t hesitate.
Because it’s Ben. Because he’s been perfect. Because he’s made you feel safe in ways you didn’t know you needed.
And that’s exactly how he planned it.
When he opens the door, you smile—because of course you do.
He’s in a button down, sleeves rolled and collar loose, looking relaxed but sharp. Like someone who always knows where he’s going to end up by the end of the night. His hair’s neat. His smile’s warm. Everything about him says steady.
He greets you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. A hand at the small of your back. A kiss to your temple. The scent of something expensive still clinging to his skin.
Inside, the lights are low. Soft. The place smells like cologne and something expensive. There’s music—crackly, old-fashioned, just loud enough to feel intentional. There’s wine breathing on the counter. Plates already set out on the table. You’re so consumed by taking in the apartment that you hardly even notice that there’s not even food.
Ben doesn’t ask if you’re hungry. Doesn’t ask anything, really.
He just turns toward the hallway, slow and sure, and glances back at you with that same unshakable calm.
“Bedroom’s through here, sweetheart.”
Not a question. Not a command. Just something said with the kind of confidence that’s impossible to challenge.
And you follow—of course you do. He’s probably just giving me a tour, you reason, he wants me to know his space.
Because he’s been nothing but perfect. Because he’s never once made you feel unsafe. Because that voice of his could talk you into anything.
You don’t even realize until later that he never looked to see if you were behind him.
He already knew you would be.
The bedroom’s warm—dimly lit, quiet. Nothing about it feels overt or pornographic. Not yet. Just soft shadows, crisp sheets, and him standing by the bed like this is simply the next part of the evening.
He turns, slow and loose, and crooks two fingers at you with that same easy calm that’s lulled you from the start. “C’mere.”
You smile before you even move. A little laugh slips out of you—nervous, pleased—and you step closer.
He brushes your hair off your shoulder, trails the backs of his fingers down your arm like he’s smoothing out static.
“Y’know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I’ve really been enjoying all this time we’ve been spendin’ together.”
You duck your head, grinning. “Yeah?” you say, light and breathy. “Me too. It’s been… really nice.”
His mouth twitches like he knew you’d say that.
“You’re just—” he chuckles softly, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe his luck. “You’re a real rare thing. Classy. Sweet. Soft.”
You laugh again, quieter this time. “You make me sound like a collectible.”
He hums, amused, thumb rubbing slow circles over your knuckles. “Hell, baby,” he says, “I don’t think I’ve met a girl like you in decades.”
Your chest warms at that. You preen without even meaning to, shoulders relaxing as you look up at him through your lashes.
“Well… I don’t know about that,” you say, smiling. “I’m not that special.”
His gaze sharpens—fond, intent.
“Yeah,” he says gently. “You are.”
He steps closer, crowding your space just enough to make your breath hitch. Taller. Broader. Older. But still careful, still gentle in that way that makes you feel precious instead of cornered.
“And when you told me you’d never been with anyone…” His mouth brushes your temple. “Well. That just about drove me insane.”
You laugh, flustered, cheeks heating. “Ben—” you start, embarrassed. “It’s not like it’s a big deal.”
You feel him smile against your skin.
“It is to me,” he says quietly.
You still just a little, heart fluttering, and he feels it immediately.
“Hey,” he murmurs, soothing. “Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”
His fingers skim the hem of your blouse, slow enough that it almost tickles. You suck in a breath, half‑laughing again.
“You’re making it sound so serious,” you say softly.
“It is,” he replies, just as soft. “Doesn’t mean it has to be scary.”
He kisses just below your ear, lingering.
“But if you’re gonna give it up to someone,” he adds, voice dropping, “oughta be someone who knows what the fuck he’s doin’, don’t you think?”
Your laugh comes out smaller this time. You nod without quite realizing you are. “I guess,” you murmur, shy but smiling. “You do seem… very confident.”
That does it. He smiles—slow, satisfied.
“That’s my girl.”
Then his fingers are unbuttoning your top, methodical and practiced, brushing every inch of skin he reveals with open reverence. You let him, body buzzing, head light, enjoying the attention too much to question it.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs again, mouth warm against your collarbone. “I’ll be real good to you.”
And somehow, that makes everything feel inevitable.
It’s not until he has you stripped naked on your hands and knees on the mattress—his own knee nudging your legs apart, his hands gripping your hips like a man who’s waited for this—that something shifts.
His mouth is on you before you can even process it—hot, messy, filthy—and you cry out, twisting in the sheets, your face already flushed and slick with sweat. He groans into you like he’s starved for it.
“Goddamn,” he mutters, “look at this sweet little pussy.”
You whimper. You’ve never heard him talk like that about you before. Not even close.
“So fucking wet for me,” he says, thumb spreading you open while he presses his mouth right back to you, licking deep like it’s his.
You try to speak—maybe a gasp of his name, maybe something uncertain—but the only thing that comes out is a moan, helpless and broken.
He hums against you, pleased. “Told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”
Then his fingers slide into your mouth—two of them, sudden and deep, pressing down on your tongue until you start to gag around them.
“Deep breaths, sweetheart,” he drawls, the thumb of his same hand stroking the skin of your jaw.
He doesn’t rush it. Just holds you there, feeling you accommodate him, until your breathing shakily around his fingers, eyes watering, and your lips tentatively begin to close around them
“There you go,” he murmurs, pleased. “Knew you’d figure it out.”
You make a small, helpless sound around his fingers and he laughs quietly, fond.
“Easy,” he coos. “You’re doin’ just fine.”
He pulls his fingers out slowly, slick with your saliva, and before you can even process the loss, his hand slides around your front to rest in between your breasts. He presses you up, his chest to your spine, mouth close to your ear.
His other hand comes around to your jaw, thumb settling at the hinge, tilting your face just enough.
“Open,” he says softly. Not a command—an expectation.
You do.
He spits into your mouth—unhurried, deliberate—watching it land like he’s savoring the moment. His thumb strokes your cheek, grounding, approving.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “That’s it.”
You gasp, overwhelmed, and he keeps his hand there, steady, making sure you don’t pull away.
“Swallow,” he adds gently. “C’mon now, be good, sweetheart.”
You do, because of course you do.
He smiles against your ear, satisfied.
“See?” he says quietly, guiding you back down to rest your weight on your palms. “Nothin’ to it. You just needed someone to show you.”
You don’t know why your thighs are shaking so hard. You don’t know when he started spanking you, either—sharp, rhythmic cracks to the side of your ass between long, indulgent licks of your pussy—but it’s blurring, all of it. His mouth, his fingers, his voice.
“Why…?” You ask breathlessly, your voice is soft and high pitched and whiny. You’re not even sure what you’re asking about at this point, everything that’s happened since your clothes came off has felt odd and overwhelming and other worldly in the weirdest, best way.
“Because this,” he says between licks, “is what people do when they love each other so very much.”
Another slap. You jolt, whine, clench around nothing.
“And you do love me, don’t cha? I’m so good to you, sweetheart.”
You’re nodding, babbling, your voice wrecked.
“Yes—yes, I love you—”
You don’t even know if you mean it. You think you do, you’ve thought about it an awful thought recently. Ben was like your dream guy–well, you thought he was. You’d even imagined this moment, but you don’t think your imagination ever could have come up with something so… dirty like this is. You thought your first time would be sweet and soft, maybe that it’d even hurt a little bit. There’s nothing sweet or soft about what’s happening right now.
His hand slides up your back, palm splayed between your shoulders, pinning you down.
“Yeah, you do,” he murmurs. “That’s why you’re lettin’ me do all this nasty shit to you.”
You should be humiliated. Heck, you should be alarmed—but you’re not.
Because this is still Ben.
Because his voice is still calm. His hands are still sure. And somewhere in the blur of praise and filth, you believe him.
“That’s my perfect girl,” he says, mouthing over the back of your neck like he’s claiming you. “Honestly, I didn’t think you had it in you. But fuck if you’re not made for this.”
You whine, gasping into the sheets.
“No wonder you never let anyone else get a taste,” he growls, lining himself up behind you now. “You’ve been waiting for me, huh? You knew I’d take such good care of you, no other limp dicked haircut could come close.”
And by the time he’s fucking into you—deep, rough, like he owns every inch of you—you’re so far gone you’d believe anything he tells you.
Even when he says:
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong about this, baby,” he murmurs, breathing heavy at your ear as he drives into you again, rougher now that he’s close. You can almost here the smirk in his voice when he speaks, “this is what true love looks like, afterall.”
Your whole body’s shaking, every nerve lit up and pulled tight. You’re gasping his name, fingers clawing at the sheets as the pressure coils and snaps all at once. It hits you hard—too much, too fast—and you cry out, hips jerking back against him as you come undone around his cock.
“That’s it, baby” he groans, feeling you clamp down, losing whatever control he had left. “Fuck—just like that.”
He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t slow down. Just fucks you through it, chasing his own end with short, brutal thrusts until his breath stutters and breaks.
“Fuckin’ christ—” he growls, voice wrecked as he spills inside you, pressing deep and staying there, holding you open while it hits him in waves.
For a second, neither of you moves. Just heat and weight and the sound of both of you trying to breathe.
Eventually, he pulls out slow, deliberately, and groans like he’s never felt anything better.
You’re practically limp beneath him, face-down and trembling, your thighs still twitching, breath all hiccupy and uneven. There’s slick everywhere—your inner thighs, the sheets, his lower stomach and dick and thighs—and he just watches his cum drip out of you like it’s the best part of his night.
“Fuckin’ look at that,” he murmurs, dragging two fingers through the mess, rubbing it in with a low whistle. “You made such a pretty mess for me, sweetheart.”
You whimper into the comforter.
Ben laughs—soft, pleased, wrecked in the best way—and slaps your ass once, light, just to feel the bounce.
“Goddamn,” he mutters again, sitting back on his heels. “Didn’t think you’d let me take it that far, to be honest.”
You shift onto your side, stunned, your cheek hot against the cool comforter. “What the hell just happened…?” you breath softly, but your voice is raspy and cracks at the end.
“Hey,” he says, suddenly closer. His palm lands warm against your face, thumb at your jaw, turning your head so he can see you fully. “You alright?”
You blink up at him, wide-eyed, a little slack-jawed. You nod, but it’s faint—a dazed little gesture that barely gets halfway.
Ben coos. Actually coos.
“Aw, there she is. Still in there.”
His thumb strokes over your cheek, his hand big and solid under your chin, holding your face like it’s something delicate.
“You did so good, baby” he says, voice dropping low. “Y’ didn’t cry. Didn’t have to ask me to stop. Just laid there like a good girl and let me take care of you.”
He leans down and kisses your forehead—slow and heavy, like he means it—before flopping back on the bed beside you with a satisfied groan. His cigarettes are already waiting on the nightstand. He lights it in one motion, takes a drag, and exhales toward the ceiling, totally at ease.
“You want one?” he asks, holding it out to you.
You blink again. “I… I don’t smoke.”
“You didn’t fuck either, ‘til tonight,” he says easily, sliding the cigarette back between his lips. “You’re on a roll, why stop now?”
You’re quiet for a while until something crosses your mind and you can’t help but ask, “… is it always like that? Like, for everyone?” You muse absentmindedly, your eyes soft and unfocused
“Yeah, if you’re lucky and find someone who knows shit about sex.” He shrugs, giving your cheek a playful tap. “And you, sweetheart, are the luckiest girl in the fucking world for finding me. You should start buying lotto tickets.”
You laugh—sort of—but it’s more breath than sound. Your whole body still feels like it’s floating. Heavy and light at the same time. He watches you like he knows exactly what you’re feeling.
Then he reaches for the drawer in the nightstand and grabs a small orange pill bottle, rattling it with one hand.
“You need something to help take the edge off?”
Your head lifts, barely. “Something to take the edge off what?” You narrow your eyes at him in confusion.
“Klonopin,” he says slow, clearly amused. “Takes the edge off the comedown. Smoothes it all out, makes everything feel like glitter.”
You blink at him, still trying to catch up. “I don’t do drugs.”
“I know you don’t, sweetheart, but that’s what everyone says at first,” he says, all grin and no shame. “Doesn’t mean you won’t.”
He tosses the bottle back onto the nightstand and picks up a glass of whiskey you hadn’t even noticed was there before—not that you’d exactly had a lot of time to take in his end table decor.
“Last offer,” he winked, “you want a drink?”
You sigh—this you could do—and reach for it, but your hand’s wobbly, so he guides it to your lips and watches while you take two slow sips. Then he pulls it away and downs the rest himself, smirking as he wipes his mouth.
“Atta girl, baby”
He leans back, one arm behind his head, the other reaching out to tug you into his chest like it’s automatic. You go without resistance. You’re too loose and warm and entirely out of your depth.
“You know,” he drawls, bringing his cigarette back to his lips, “I’ve been on my best fuckin’ behavior for you,” he says, smoke curling from his mouth as he speaks. “Since day one.”
You hum, dizzy and relaxed, letting your fingers trace lightly along the edge of his ribs.
“Didn’t lay a hand on you,” he continues. “Barely even let myself flirt. Made myself real fuckin’ tolerable.”
He presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your neck.
“You think that was easy for me?”
You don’t answer, and you don’t need to. You’re curled into him, pliant and trusting, and he knows he’s got you.
“Worth it, though,” he mutters against your skin. “You’re so much better than I thought you’d be.”
“Thanks? I think?” You say confused, even more so when he just laughs.
His hand slides down to your hip, not to start anything—just to touch. To feel the body he just wrecked.
He’s still stroking your hip when he shifts, rolls you closer like he’s just getting comfortable. His voice, when he speaks, is soft again—warm and low and perfect, like all that filth never happened.
“Y’know,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, “we look fuckin’ great together.”
You blink up at him, dazed, lips parted like you’re still trying to remember how to breathe.
“Can’t wait to show you off,” he adds, smiling like he means it. “Red carpets. Cameras. America’s fuckin’ sweetheart and her soldier.”
Your cheeks heat, even now. You laugh, breathless and a little shy. “You’re ridiculous.”
He grins. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong.”
There’s a pause. His thumb brushes the swell of your cheekbone.
“So what do you say, sweetheart?” His voice is warm again—sweet, almost bashful, like he didn’t just fuck you into the mattress. “You wanna be my girl? Officially?”
Your lashes flutter. It sounds so simple when he says it. So earnest.
Like you didn’t give him everything already.
You nod slowly, lips parted on a dazed little smile. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Okay.”
Ben grins—beams, really—like he just won the goddamn lottery. His hand squeezes your hip, thumb brushing the dip of your waist like he’s grounding himself in the moment.
“That's perfect, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your shoulder, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “Knew you would.”
He lets the silence stretch a beat, just long enough for your pulse to settle, your breath to come back, for the ache in your thighs to really bloom.
Then, all easy charm and casual affection, he cuddles you even closer and asks—
“You still hungry?”
You blink, slowly. He’s already reaching for another cigarette from the nightstand like this is totally normal. Like this is just a regular Tuesday.
“Figured we could go out instead, maybe get some steaks,” he says, like it’s nothing. “There’s this little place up the block—old-school joint, real butter-heavy, they know me. You’ll love it.”
You can’t even process it. You’re still leaking him onto his sheets, still raw and sticky and half-drunk on the sound of his voice.
But his tone is light.
"After all, I did ask my girl over for dinner," he winks, "can't let you starve. 'Specially not after how brave you were for me tonight, sweetheart."
His smile is easy. And the way he’s looking at you—like you’re already his everything, like this is routine—makes your stomach flip in that dangerous, fluttery way.
