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ellstersmash · 3 years

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Not to Keep

Fandom: Mass Effect (Original Trilogy) Pairing: Kaidan x f!Shepard Rating: T for Teen (cw for alcohol use) Words: 2.7k [Read on Ao3]

shep and kaidan go undercover, set early in me1. this was originally a prompt for "fake relationship" from Leather & Lace Romance Week, but then I waited 3.5 years to finish it 🥀

It all seemed so simple. Infiltrate a wedding, extract intel on Benezia, use that to find Saren.

Easy-peasy.

Until Shepard shows up in the shuttle bay looking like that. They've only been working together for a couple of months, and Kaidan has seen her covered in blood spatter, dripping sweat post-PT—hell, even bare naked in a hotel room. But it’s safe to say he never thought he'd see her like this. Full makeup, soft curls, a long red dress that shouldn't fit anyone that perfectly, and, dangling from two fingers, a pair of classy black heels.

Kaidan swallows hard and gives her a curt nod. “Ma’am.”

“Alenko.” He shifts on his feet as her eyes travel the length of his body and back up, her cool stare giving nothing away. “You clean up nice.”

“Ah, thanks. And you look—”

“Oh, I'm dressed to kill.” Lips the same shade as her dress curve into a grin. “Figuratively, for once.”

Kaidan chokes and laughs, caught off guard in a mixture of nerves and surprise. “Was that a joke, Commander?”

Her expression narrows into a pinched, self-deprecating smirk. “If you have to ask, then no. And I definitely haven't been thinking about it since Williams zipped this damn thing up.”

The thought of his CO, this formidable woman, giggling to herself over a stupid joke for an hour is... well, it’s uncharacteristically cute. Kaidan rolls it around in his head for an indulgent minute, trying on the fit before letting the image go.

Just one more thing to jam into that Never Gonna Happen file.

“Right,” she says, back to business. “Let’s get this over with.”

They board the shuttle for the short trip to the venue, and go over the mission brief one final time: intel extraction remains their highest priority—one of their hosts, Polona T’Shan, was rumored to have a close business connection with the matriarch; protecting their cover is important, but heavy security is not expected; their false identity profiles should be enough to get them in the door, and from there the two of them will be responsible for avoiding unwanted attention by appearing as a couple.

Kaidan knows his own limits. He’s a soldier, not an actor. This pretending to be someone else, this lie, it isn't part of his training and it sure as hell isn't part of who he is. But if Shepard’s as nervous as he is, she isn't showing it.

She’s looking at him again, in that intense all-in way she sometimes does. Before her, he had never met someone who was aware of—and pursued—what they wanted with such confidence, such dogged determination, and to have that kind of focus set on him even for just a moment is… terrifying. In a good way, he thinks. It makes him feel warm and cold at the same time. It also makes him want to stare right back, but that way lies only trouble, and none of them need another helping. Not right now.

Kaidan leans back and rests his head on the cool, if slightly unsteady, inner shuttle wall as Shepard drums a rhythmless pattern into the space between their seats.

---

Kyra drains her glass.

As it turns out, Asari weddings aren't all that different from the few human ones she’s attended. Though this reception is a far more extravagant affair than she’s used to: four days of mingling and games and dancing and drinking and food. Really not her cup of tea.

And apparently not Alenko’s, either.

He’d made a beeline for the bar as soon as they’d entered, and returned with an easier stride and a glass full of some bubbling neon sugary shit for her. She’d have preferred something stronger, of course, but they do have a mission to complete. If they can manage to get Polona alone for a moment.

She slips her hand into the crook of his elbow and feels him stiffen, then relax. Quick and conscious. He’s nervous, out of place, on edge, and then completely calm and collected.

No doubt in her mind he was the right pick for this one.

The thought settles her stomach, and just in time. Two asari approach, their hands extended in enthusiastic welcome.

“Greetings!” one of them says, with a voice smooth and sweet as wildflower honey. “Oh, what a lovely pair you two make. Right out of the vids, could be. This one’s even better looking up close, don’t you think so, Liria?” The asari takes Alenko’s hand, sensual and deliberate, then turns her attention to Kyra. “And goddess, that dress is stunning; really, sweetie, it fits you like a glove. You”—she drags one finger down Alenko’s lapel—“are a lucky man, I hope you know.”

Eyes wide, he clears his throat and coughs, then regains his composure with a brief glance in Kyra’s direction.

The second asari offers an apologetic look to each of them in turn. “Rialla, darling, slow down or you’ll scare them off.”

“They certainly look sturdy enough.”

“I am so sorry. She’s had quite a bit to drink, I’m afraid. Never could pace herself at a wedding.” She laughs. “My name is Liria, and my companion’s name is Rialla, and ever since we saw you walk in, we have just been itching to get to know you.”

Kyra plasters what she hopes is a warm smile on her face, mentally pulling up her cover identity as reference. “Emily, and I’m delighted to meet you both. This is John, my um—”

“Her very lucky partner.”

The two matriarchs titter and tease him, both in turn, and once again he’s in control. Kyra can’t help but be impressed by how effortlessly he charms them. And she’s far from immune. It’s her mission, yet she is all too prepared to be led around the room by that firm hand at the small of her back.

Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko: respected Alliance Marine, powerful L2 biotic, all-around stand-up guy, and—apparently—a smooth son-of-a-bitch. It’s an unexpected feature for someone so soft-spoken and unpretentious. Like he has a hidden switch somewhere.

Or a button.

Press For Instant Charisma.

She briefly entertains the idea of hunting for it, then aborts the thought with a twist of her lips and tunes back in to the conversation.

---

The lie is getting easier. Shepard is tucked under Kaidan’s arm, and he’s almost comfortable.

Their new friends are exactly the right sort. Nosy, talkative, well into their cups, and connected. Old friends of their mark, both of them, and Liria has history with Benezia herself. Shepard spins her tale about a chance meeting with the missing matriarch at a charity benefit and their tapering correspondence, followed by a rumor igniting hope for reconnection. And they eat it right up.

All he has to do is act natural and help Shepard keep them talking.

“Well, you know Polona wasn’t only Benezia’s lawyer.” Liria leans in close, her voice not quite as hushed as she probably intended. “They were involved, some centuries back. Quite the scandal at the time, but then Benezia always had... selfish tendencies. Now, I’m not sure why they parted ways, or how serious it was, but—”

Not to be outdone, Rialla’s hands flutter for attention as she pipes in. “It must be more than a passing fling from two hundred years ago, though, because I heard that her Turian lover—or, well, husband now—almost called off this very wedding!”

“Really?” Shepard asks. What’s supposed to be idle curiosity is bordering on serious interest, her voice taking on a firm, interrogative quality to match her narrowed gaze, but a brush of his thumb on her shoulder and she reigns it in. Loosens up with a tilt of her head and a hand to his thigh that has him tensing up instead.

“Oh, yes,” Rialla says. “It was all very tenuous there for a while. And to think, then the four of us would never have met!”

Kaidan raises his glass with a smile as genuine as he can muster. “A tragic loss for us, to be sure.”

With a deep, warm smile, Rialla fans her face and leans in close to Shepard, but speaks for the whole table to hear. “Do let me know when you're finished with him, would you, dear? I think I may be quite in love.”

He's fine until Shepard smirks, then he's far too warm. Suffocating.

He tugs at his collar. “You think their, uh, conflict had something to do with Polona and Benezia’s involvement?”

“I seriously doubt it,” Liria says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “That was ages ago, not yesterday. Beni’s still pining after Aeth—”

Rialla laughs. “Oh, it’s Beni, now? I had no idea you were such intimate friends!”

“I’m 800 years old, my dear.” Liria scoffs. “I have quite a few friends you don’t know about.”

“Is that supposed to make me jealous?”

“Of course not, don’t be silly!”

“Silly? Goddess, must you always be so patronizing?”

“Must you always twist my words?”

“Oh, here we go!”

The situation spirals into chaos before either he or Shepard can recover it, and she stands up from the table, pulling at his elbow.

“I love this song,” she mutters pointedly, and leads him to the dance floor. It’s a slow number, thank god. He’s not nearly drunk enough to dance to something with a beat.

They sway slowly, and she presses close, his neck prickling underneath her palm. His own hands settle on her waist, then more naturally to her hips.

“Damn,” she whispers. “Damn.”

“I know. But hey, we’ve got the rest of the night. And tomorrow night. And the next night. And—”

“The next night, I know.” She groans and drops her head to his shoulder.

Kaidan smiles into her hair.

---

The night is officially over. The band is still playing, but most of the guests are gone, and despite making a number of connections, they’ve learned nothing more about Benezia's whereabouts.

They have, however, made decent use of the open bar.

Kyra downs the last of her champagne and orders a cocktail, dealer's choice. It arrives glowing and smoking and she takes the skyward trajectory of Alenko’s brows as a personal challenge not to hesitate.

A potent combination of peppermint and blueberries and battery acid hits the back of her throat and makes her head swim on contact.

Next to her, Alenko is nursing his third.

“How’s your drink?” he asks.

“Surprising.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“Um… Yes.” She clinks her fingernail against his glass. “How’s your whiskey?”

He frowns and takes a sip. “This is not whiskey.”

“Didn’t realize you were such a connoisseur.”

“No, I mean it is literally not whiskey. Didn’t have it, I guess.” He drinks again. “It’s weird, right? Walk into any bar on Earth and they’ll have a dozen to pick from, but soon as you take off…”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “No burgers. No guac. No ice cream.”

The low chuckle he gives is a sound she’d like to hear again. And again, and again, and—

“When you put it like that, this spacer life is a real sorry existence.”

Kyra nods and wonders what he misses most from home. Or who. But that is none of her business, so she empties her glass and tips the bartender in preparation to leave.

“Sorry tonight was a bust, Shepard.”

“It wasn’t a total loss. Decent food, free booze.” She rests her chin on one closed fist. “Good company.”

“By that, I assume you mean our new asari friends.”

“Sure.”

Holding his gaze is harder than it should be. He cradles his nearly-empty glass and taps his fingers in sequence. Up and down, like a zipper.

At last, he looks away. “I was going to say ‘beautiful,’ by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“Earlier, before we left. I was going to tell you how incredible you looked, but then you interrupted me, and I never really got the chance to say it so I figured I might as well say it now.”

Warmth rises in her belly and she rides it like a wave, unscathed and unchanged on the other side. She turns to face him, wriggling in the seat in preparation like he’s about to try and upend her. “All right, Alenko. Hit me. I’m ready.”

He gives a huff of nervous laughter, one hand going straight to the back of his neck. “Well, uh... that was pretty much it.”

“That’s it? You waited all night to tell me that you were going to tell me I looked beautiful, but didn’t?”

His lips roll together, and he cedes the point with a tilt of his head, then meets her eyes again before his take a slow, uncertain wander around the rest of her features.

“Shepard,” he says when he makes it back, and it’s a name so overused it may as well be a title—but not spoken like that. Low and drawn out and a little bit reverent, it becomes almost intimate for the first time in years and she can't help but wonder how her first might sound.

“You look really beautiful tonight.”

Oh. Oh no. Kyra knows she should say thank you, and tell him to finish his drink so they can get out of here, but this next wave won’t subside and the air won’t reach her lungs and all she can do is stare at him.

“I mean, not just tonight, but especially—” he continues, visibly flustered by her silence. “You know, the dress and the lips—ah, make-up! And, and the hair and everything, it’s just very, um, tasteful, and… Um.” He clears his throat and pushes his drink away by inches, folding his hands tight together. "Feel free to stop me anytime.”

Ah. There. That’s the Alenko she knows and can handle.

“Now why would I do a thing like that?” she says, sending a silent prayer of thanks to whichever god kept her voice from breaking.

The smile they exchange is soft and charged and it smooths him over. His eyes are brown. Kyra knew that already, but clinically. On paper. Hair: black. Eyes: brown. Year of birth: 2151.

She didn’t know it like this, tangibly, all wrapped up and swept away in a simple fact.

This time she’s the one to give in. “You know, you should really keep that button pressed, Alenko.”

“What?”

“The charisma button.” She jerks her head toward the door, grabs his hand for the sake of anyone who might still be awake and sober enough to notice, and leads him out. “Push it. More.”

“I— what?”

Kyra chuckles to herself and steps into the elevator. “Forget it.”

The doors close once she chooses a floor and she regrets taking his hand because now she has to let go.

Kiss me. Come on, Alenko. Quick, before we go back. She can’t think it any louder, can’t make it any clearer without crossing a line. Be better if he does it, but he won’t. She knows he wants to just like she knows he never will, because he’s a good soldier and a good soldier doesn’t fuck with the chain of command. Not without a compelling reason, at least, and she can’t give him one.

Their floor lights up and reality pours in. He follows her across the dock, at a distance now that no one who would care might be watching.

Kyra takes a sharp, deep breath. Three more nights of this—unless they can get their intel sooner. Three more nights of flirting and dancing and soft touches all for show and not to keep. Maybe she should have brought Williams after all. Or Garrus. Or anyone else.

Distracted, she nearly trips getting into the shuttle, and somehow he’s right there, a broad hand on her waist to steady her.

A nod and he detaches. Steps back. “Ma’am.”

Ma’am. But he is a terrible liar, and she’s never been good at a long con.

#mass effect #mass effect trilogy #mass effect fic #kaidan alenko #shenko #alcohol #ellster writes #kyra x kaidan #be gentle this is a collaboration with past me #one of us is a much better writer #no i wont tell you which #oh my god wrangling all these rogue italic spaces from before i learned how to format for ao3 is going to send me into a fit of rage #s/o to the 5 story subscribers stubborn enough to hang on

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

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Suddenly Stuck With You // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Twenty-one years ago Owen Patrick Joyner was born into a life with a bright future and career bringing him two best friends. His best friends Charlie and Jeremy drag the blonde actor to Vegas to celebrate his first legal drink in America. What was supposed to be a weekend for the boys quickly changed all because a certain Canadian met a girl and drank a ton. Now they have to deal with the consequences of their actions.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, allusion to sex, heartbreak, angst and fluff

Words: 7.1k

A/N: Originally this was going to be a mini series but I can’t be bothered to stretch out this idea. I’m sorry, I just feel like this is shit already and I haven’t felt that happy with my writing lately.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Fox and Hound Pub, Las Vegas July 2021

“Happy birthday man!” The voice of his castmate, work roommate and best friend announced.

Owen’s eyes found Charlie’s glittering viridescent eyes meeting Owen’s bright blue.

“Why did we have to celebrate my twenty-first in Las Vegas, Charlie?” Owen questioned with one hand, cupped around his first legal drink in America.

Owen had had his fair share of beers in his life both in America and his visits in Germany after he turned sixteen. Charlie and Jeremy had been the ones to drag the actor to Vegas to celebrate. Owen didn’t see the significance of celebrating in a different state than Los Angeles.

“C’mon! You’re twenty-one!” Charlie exclaimed pushing a beer across the table in the bar they had found. Relatively lowkey the boys hadn’t been stopped for pictures by JATP fans thankfully.

Owen nabbed the mug from Charlie’s calloused hand to take a swig of the drink to Charlie’s delight with a sigh. The tall actor scanning the moderately filled bar, the world was coming back to terms after the pandemic officially ended.

“There you go!” The Canadian adventurer spoke nodding his head to the live music a local band was playing.

Owen’s eyes found someone he recognized from a show on the History Channel his dad was incredibly into for several years. Two men sat in a booth next to the bar with food in front of them with the dark-haired one wearing a shirt with a logo. It was hard to make out, but he believed it was for a famous pawn shop in Vegas.

“Drink up. I got the tab tonight.” Charlie informed his distracted best friend, “This is gonna be an incredible year. Shooting for season two with the gang back together.”

“Hey, sorry about that. Care and I had a scheduled live on Insta to do. Happy birthday, man.” Jeremy sat in the booth next to Charlie, still living on the high of seeing his wife.

“This is gonna be a trip to remember,” Charlie announced tapping mugs with his two fellow castmates and best friends.

Oh, how right Charlie was.

Your best friend lifted the wineglass to her red lips with a mischievous look in her eye that concerned you as usual. Cherry, nicknamed for her fierce love of cherries, had a wild streak that had mellowed after graduating college last year. Cherry had invited you to stay with her for a month to recover from a devastating loss. The offer hadn’t entirely left her lips before you bought a plane ticket from Heathrow Airport in England to Las Vegas.

You had met Cherry in your teens through an exchange program set up between your schools a few years back. Even since you two met at sixteen, you had been best friends and unable to get rid of the other.

“Why are we here?” You asked, tapping a manicured nail freshly done at a spa courtesy of Cherry. Of course Cherry chose a shade of red as per usual while you had chosen a traditional white tip French Manicure.

“I know the breakup was tough, but you need to let loose.” Cherry’s hand reached over to squeeze yours. The sympathetic smile irritating you for god knows what number of time it was.

Averting your eyes, you found yourself scanning the pub with barely any attention but you wanted to escape the warm amber brown of your friend. You loved Cherry, but you wanted to mourn the loss of your relationship within your own time and way.

“I need another drink!” You called over the loud music before pushing away from the table to head to the bar.

Ordering your favourite drink, you leaned against the dark wood with your arms crossed and a faraway gaze. Unaware of the man waiting next to you for his own drink.

“Hey!” The male spoke, bringing your attention to his soft hazel gaze.

Your e/c eyes finding the man speaking with a kind and absolutely breathtaking smile framed by the scruff his face sported. Facial hair sometimes turned you off if it wasn’t worn styled for the individual. This guy, however, pulled it off with the brunette moustache matching the medium-length head of hair.

“Hi.” You softly replied gracefully grabbing the drink when the barkeep set it down before hustling down the counter to another customer, “Am I in your way?”

“No. I already got my drink. You looked lost, and I saw the bartender coming. I didn’t want anyone slipping you something.”

“Thank you…”

“Charlie.” The man spoke, holding out his hand to you with his smile still on his cheerful expression. Your hand slid into his warm grip.

“Y/N.”

You and Charlie retreated to an empty table deep in conversation with such ease it felt like you had known each other for years. You learnt he was living in LA, but originally from Canada, a province called New Brunswick.

Charlie was enthralled as you told him how you had been born and raised in America for the first ten years of your life. After age ten, you moved to England for your mom’s job offer and settled in your father’s childhood hometown; he was originally from England but met your mother on vacation in California.

While you conversed, Cherry found you entirely focused on the male with an expression she hadn’t seen in ages. Her eyes floated by to you periodically for your safety until you sent her a text.

You: Sorry, I ditched you. I got caught up talking with Charlie.

Cherry sent a response back before paying your tabs and heading to her apartment a few blocks away from Fox and Hound Pub. Her heart was excited for how the night would pan out because the sexual tension could be felt across the duo’s room. She was confident you wouldn’t make any stupid decisions.

Oh, how wrong she was.

A hiss preceded the deep groan as a group of construction workers pounded away in your skull painfully. The back of your eyelids painted red from the sunlight pouring into the room from the open blinds.

Scrubbing one hand over your eyes, you slowly sat up with a satisfying stretch after a well-rested sleep. The cool air from the air conditioner raising goosebumps on your bare skin…wait a minute bare skin? The slightest sound of the sheet rustling together, freezing you in place. Firstly, you glanced down at your bare chest before sliding your eyes over to the left of the bed.

Eyes equally large the man from last night, Charlie, cried out when he sat up too quickly. The sheets pooled around his bare waist.

“Okay. Definitely didn’t wake up in my own bed.” You muttered leaning over to find your abandoned shirt on the floor.

Pulling it on despite the stare from Charlie’s hazel eyes, you scoured the room for the rest of your clothes. The room was silent as Charlie slid on his clothing like you did before you stood covered up in the hotel room.

“So, obviously, we slept together. Do you remember if we used-“Charlie started to ask. Your mouth opening to end his sentence.

“I’m on the pill. We used a condom.” You informed him equally as relieved you hadn’t made a stupid decision, “Thankfully even fully sloshed we used protection. We didn’t make a stupid decision.”

At least you hooked up with a really nice guy instead of a scummy guy only in it for his own pleasure and disregarding yours. Vague memories from the night in the sheets swayed you into believing the charming man was more of a giver than a receiver.

Charlie’s mouth opened he felt a new weight barely discernable, but he felt it, “Uh…guess again.”

Eyes furrowing you found the ring on his finger with shame, “Oh my god, you’re married?!”

Holy shit, you slept with a married man. You’re a homewrecker you thought to yourself getting further worked up. What if this guy had kids. Not noticing your feet had started pacing the room.

“I wasn’t yesterday morning.” Charlie faltered keeping his eyes on the cheap ring he definitely hadn’t been wearing yesterday. His eyes moving to look at the matching wedding band on your left hand, bringing you attention to it as well.

“Well, fuck.” The deep sigh guiding awareness from the male to the weary posture that came with the heartbreak.

When Cherry invited you to visit and take solace in your best friend, you never expected to wake up from a one night stand turned more. Tears built with the embarrassment of crying in front of his stranger that hadn’t asked for a morning with a hangover and a new wife.

“Whoa! Hey, we can get it annulled.” Charlie stuttered rushing over to draw you into his strong arms with such gentle care it melted your heart. The leftovers that hadn’t shattered to your toes from the failed relationship you escaped the UK for.

“This is a mess.” You sighed birthing an unintentional word vomit, “I left the UK to visit my best friend, Cherry. She brought me to the bar to cheer me up and instead of attempting the ‘to get over someone you have to get under someone’ I fuck that up as well. I get married.”

Charlie’s hazel gaze widened at the revelation, “You broke up with someone?”

“More cliché. He’s a rich frat boy in his fifth year of college, he’s brilliant but chose to stay for the frat house. He got a girl pregnant, and now he’s in a forced engagement.” The smile you hoped was strong came out wobbling, “Then he asked me to be his ‘official’ real relationship. An embellished way of being the secret girlfriend/mistress.”

Charlie winced, leaning back to stare down, “How long ago was this?”

“Around seven months? I kept it quiet for a while. No one knew until last month. I’ve gotten a lot of pity even if I’m over him but not the betrayal.” Charlie whistled lowly with a nod and a particular look in his eyes.

“This is gonna come out of the left-field entirely, but what if we check out the laws on Vegas weddings? See if we fit the annulment or if we need a divorce? If we need a divorce, we can play it out to make his regret his decision and get everyone off your back?”

The refusal just about dropped from your tongue before something changed, “Let’s do it.”

As Charlie quickly get ready, he nabbed his phone from the charger by the bed before he slipped his hand in yours. He answered your confusion with the excuse of getting used to each other. Instead of fighting the blatant denial, you followed him to his rented car for the week to give him directions to Cherry’s apartment.

“So, what’s our story?” You asked the man, “We don’t know each other that well.”

“My full name is Charlie Jeffrey Gillespie. I’m Canadian but living in Los Angeles for work, I’m here for my best friend Owen’s twenty-first birthday with our other best friend, Jeremy. I’m twenty-two turning twenty-three in August.” Charlie spitfire navigating the streets of Vegas with practised ease.

“You already know my full name. I’m twenty-three as of a few months prior. You already know I moved from America to England over a decade ago.” The hesitation came from telling Charlie the career you had had since you turned twenty.

The topic of jobs was evaded as you learnt about each other’s likes and dislikes in a crash course to convince Cherry. Just as Charlie started to list his siblings, his phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth.

“I’m guessing that’s the Owen you came to Vegas with?” You questioned flicking your gaze between the Caller ID and your husband. God even thinking of having a husband was incredibly odd.

“Yeah. I have to answer.” Charlie’s exuded nerves with his fingers tapping the steering wheel, “Can you play along?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before clicking the accept.

“Dude, where are you? We were supposed to get food together? I have a wicked hangover.” The voice of this Owen spoke with a tinge of annoyance you only caught with your training.

“I met Y/N.” Charlie infused his voice with the nerves and a slight change to his voice that impressed you as he stepped into a set of shoes in his chest of roles.

“Who? Is that the girl from last night? The one you had that drinking challenge with?” Owen questioned from his side of the phone settled at a table with Jeremy nursing a coffee for his hangover.

“I haven’t told anyone, but after Jeremy’s wedding, it made me feel like I was missing something? I signed up for a dating app, and with filming, I forgot about it. About six months ago, I met someone, and we’ve constantly been talking.”

“That’s why you refused the blind dates from Sav and me? Not that you wanted to focus on work.” Jeremy interjected, “You should have told us, man. We wouldn’t judge you.”

“I know that, but we all blew up after the show. I just wanted to keep this between us until we knew for sure but guys…this girl is the One.” Charlie chuckled, shaking his head at the irony of already being married to you.

“We’re happy. So, did you want to take me to Vegas so you could meet her?” Owen questioned with a pit in his stomach of Charlie’s motives not being only for him.

“I’m in the car with her. She’s sending a few emails for work and blasting music. I can hear it from the driver’s seat.” Charlie joked to the boys with the lie slipping quickly, “Hey! Y/N, sweetheart.”

“Hm?” You interject with such ease, Charlie wondered if you were an actor as well. The practised and on beat performance, “Oh! Hi, sorry. I’m Y/n, you must be Owen and Jeremy? Charlie’s talked about you guys. Congratulations on your wedding Jeremy.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Jeremy lightly laughed, shaking his head at the voice coming from Owen’s phone on speaker.

“Happy birthday Owen. I wish I could have met you in person to wish you a happy birthday, but Charlie and I tend to forget to tell each other where our trips happen! It was such a shock to see him last night.” Just as Charlie had used affected nerves, you played up the loved up role, “My best friend and I almost chose a different pub than Fox and Hound.”

Owen and Jeremy’s grins grew at the genuine care in your voice as you continued speaking before Charlie interrupted you.

“Sweetheart I think they get it!” Charlie laughed with a glittering of stars in his eyes, “It was shocking to see Y/n in Las Vegas of all the 50 states. This week has been the best. Getting to bring my best friend to Vegas for his big twenty-one and meeting the love of my life in person?”

“Charlie’s dropping me off at my best friends. You’ll have him again in an hour. I hope you have a wonderful weekend Owen.” You finished unknowingly winning them over at the care in your voice and the happiness you brought out in Charlie.

Owen ended the call with a quick goodbye, leaving the rented car quiet between the new husband and wife.

“That went better than I expected.” Charlie admitted with a soft smile on his lips only to drop at your expression, “What?”

“Our next obstacle in convincing my best friend this relationship is real.”

“I’m sure it will go-“

“She’s an extremely successful criminal prosecutor who graduated high school a year early and fast-tracked through college.”

“Well, shit,” Charlie stated, leaning back in his seat as the entire situation hit him that he had married a stranger.

Charlie may be able to fool his friends but his family? His mother to be specific would immediately know what was up. The young Canadian had always been open on one day getting married surrounded by his family and have his parents there. Dropping this bomb on his family could only go one way: terrible.

“I’m a good actor. I’m sure we can convince her. We’ll get together with her tomor-“

“Unfortunately, I’m meeting with her in a few hours.” You revealed with a sheepish smile on your pretty features. Charlie could feel his heart drop in dread and fear at how the hand given wasn’t in his favour.

The drive was quiet as dread filled the two individuals as the distance was eaten up between the car and the apartment that housed an intelligent woman. Cherry Parker had only been working at the firm for a year with a clear future as a partner within ten years. Cherry with perfect grades in high school and high percentages in college and a perfect smile. A natural at finding people’s ticks she would be near impossible to deceive.

“We could turn around. Make an excuse to be introduced through the phone.” Charlie supplied, biting his lip, “Oh my god. She’s not gonna kill me, is she?”

“No.” You swiftly told the spiralling man, “She’d kill me and frame you.”

Maybe that wasn’t the best to calm the man down as he freaked out more, “Oh my god. What are we gonna do!?”

The apartment loomed as the car came to a stop outside just as the individual wearing seafoam green peacoat stepped to the entrance. Her blunt bob of caramel brown hair and unique earrings screaming that it was Cherry.

“That’s her.” You breathed as Charlie parallel parked in between a compact car and an SUV in front. Jerry, the doorman, waved with his beaming smile that reminded you of a jolly man just as he had since you had first visited Cherry in her apartment.

Jerry mumbled towards Cherry before she turned swiftly on her black pumps notorious to her work attire. Since her first year of law school, she had gone through two pairs and adored them with her new income.

The woman rushed over as your door opened with the help of Charlie, how you didn’t notice he had turned the car off and walked to your side, appalled you. The 5’8 male was shoved to the side as Cherry tugged you into her arms with a scathing glare at Charlie.

“I don’t know who you are or how much you rocked her world, but it’s been hours. I thought you kidnapped her.” Cherry hissed at the male with her brown eyes flaring with anger that made both you and Charlie flinch.

“Whoa! We got stuck in traffic, and Charlie’s friend called.” Your hands raised in defence at the pointed glare now directed at you. The amber-brown eyes scanned your form and other than the apparent walk of shame appearance, you looked fine.

Cherry’s red lips parted for the usual questions she gave to all her friends after one-night stands. With a subtle shake of your head, Cherry tabled the questions for later before locking her eyes on the newcomer.

“Cherry Parker. And what’s the name of the guy that plastered a smile on her face?” Cherry questioned, holding out her hand to him.

“Charlie Gillespie. It’s nice to meet you.” Charlie replied with that charming smile that melted your heart. It didn’t appear to melt Cherry with the thick skin she developed first in her family and then as a lawyer.

“Likewise. Well, thank you for delivering her safe.” Cherry spoke hand, reaching for your own impatient for all the details she would demand. Her words failed when her amber gaze peered at the near-identical faces, “What did you do?”

The demand startled the two individuals before the attorney began ushering the duo in the building you had been staying at. Her red nail stabbing the golden-hued elevator surrounded by emerald green displaying a vintage colour scheme.

“Please tell me it’s not as bad as senior year?” Cherry pleaded massaging the bridge of her nose with her free hand. The other clenching her briefcase so tight the knuckles had turned bleach bone white.

“What happened senior year?” Charlie asked following the two best friends into a spacious apartment that could fit two of his in it. His hazel eyes catching the unspoken conversation between the two best friends.

“Not important.” Cherry sighed eyes, lowering to your fingers, “Of course. Vegas. You eloped. Jesus Y/N, you know how your family is.”

Catching the confusion from Charlie, you elaborated for Cherry, “My family is incredibly strict and old fashioned. Divorce isn’t accepted in my family for anything less than the most serious scenarios.”

“Drunk eloping in Vegas? Practically get prepared for silent judgemental stares from Nana and drowning disappointment.” Cherry sighed, pushing a strand of her caramel brown locks behind her ear.

“I have a plan for that. We can pretend to be married before amicably divorcing later. We can figure out the details for a reason later in future. We already started the ruse.” Charlie admitted seating himself at the island in the spacious kitchen his mother would dream of cooking in.

Charlie could already tell just how successful Cherry was with her apartment and her outfit that dripped money. Her kindness, however, set her on a different level to the people Charlie had encountered with the same dollar signs.

“Of course,” Cherry grumbled digging around for drinks. Charlie fully anticipated it to be some kind of fancy wine, but he was proven wrong.

Cherry had taken out two different kinds of beer from the fridge, along with cold mugs straight from the freezer.

“What just because I’m dolled up you think I drink strictly wine? I have that for my mother and sister when they visit.” Charlie barely caught the eyeroll at Cherry’s mention of her family as she turned to you.

“Besides, I’m my father’s daughter.” You cheered cracking open your choice into the mug with skilled ease. The foam perfectly dealt with it brought a smile to Charlie’s face.

“Okay, so this ruse. What did you do so far?”

“My friends think she and I met on a dating app seven months ago and coincidently ran into each other last night at the bar. We’ve kept it private because of my job-“

“-along with Y/N’s job.” Cherry simply spoke raising the rim of her mug to her lips, “Okay, there’s no way you’d sign up on an app after Harvey. So, I went behind your back and made one for you.”

“Then Charlie messaged me after I found out. It started off as apologizing that he chose my profile. It started a friendship that turned into a relationship.”

“We did Facetime dates before becoming exclusive, and you wanted to ensure it was something that would last longer than a fling.” Charlie inserted with a beaming grin as he felt into ease with the two girls before him.

“I think we got a story for you two. Just two rules: One, don’t go falling in love with each other and two, don’t get pregnant.” Cherry joked sitting in the barstool across from you and Charlie. Her red lips revealing white teeth, one tooth with a tiny chip out of it from high school.

The rest of the days’ Charlie was in Las Vegas he alternated between his friends and you with the odd time he invited you to dinner with them. There was such ease between Charlie and you that hadn’t be there even with your ex Harvey. Unfortunately, the time in Las Vegas dwindled down until you were dropping the boys off at the airport.

“I’ll call you when I get home.” Charlie mumbled in the earshot of his friends, “Whirlwind wedding-“

“Married.” Owen scoffed in disbelief once more having found out at dinner last night that included colourful words. Jeremy had been placed in silent shock seeing the real matching wedding bands.

“In a month, you’ll fly out to England to help me pack up the flat and then we’ll fly to see your family for your cousin’s wedding.” You finished for the man with a beaming grin that had steadily lost its fake appeal. It quite literally felt like you had known Charlie for longer than a few days.

“It was really nice meeting you. I hope Charlie can convince you to come visit my wife and me. You and Carolynn would hit it off.”

“Could I bring Bindi?” Owen joked as he tugged you into a hug as soon as Jeremy had released you. Charlie was quick to drag you back into his embrace, even adding a kiss to your forehead.

The airport speakers announced the second warning of their flight number boarding rather suddenly in which the trio frantically rushed. The feeling of your stomach dropped took you by surprise just as much as the manicured hand of Cherry.

“You okay?” Cherry asked softly sliding her hand down your arm to clutch yours in hers. It was an act of comfort you both had done throughout your friendship, whether it be uncomfortable situations or heartbreak.

“I feel like I’ve known him years instead of days. Cherry, I think I’m in danger of falling for him.” You fully admitted turning your head to meet her concerned brown orbs.

“Sweetheart, you’ve never been good at doing no feelings.” Cherry replied with a squeeze of your hand, “He feels the same. Now we need you to get to your gate since you’re ditching me.”

“As much as I would adore staying here. I need to get back to England to finish packing my flat.” You informed Cherry with a small grin as her red lips parted in a gasp at your announcement.

You had temporarily relocated back to the US at eighteen when you were recruited into the CIA, and then you were sent to England for work. It was very under the cover, and Cherry knew the basics but not the entirety of your career.

“You’re coming back!” Cherry cheered grinning at what could be the best news of the week for the lawyer. No more fumbling of time zones and long distances between phone calls leading to relying on messaging.

“I am!” You beamed right back, “I’ll move to Washington for a year and then hopefully I can be transferred to Los Angeles. As much as I love Las Vegas, it isn’t the place I want to live.”

“It would make sense to move to LA since Charlie is there. You could even use the marriage being the reason you’re moving instead.” Cherry offered with her lips turned up, yet her brown eyes didn’t glitter.

Cherry missed having you around like back in high school. Living apart sucked for the two best friends but at least you would be in the same country.

“This is insane. I still can’t believe I’m married.” You whispered, staring up at the high ceiling of the airport. You relied on your instincts to walk in the busy airport to your gate.

“I wasn’t even there.” Cherry snorted walking in complete sync until you both came to a stop at your gate. Her eyes saddened further after so many days spent together when she wasn’t working, “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Knowing my mother. She’ll be planning, and as she’ll say it, a real wedding for Charlie and I.”

Another lingering hug with the caramel brunette was the last for a while as more and more distance came between you. Metres changed to different continents within hours, and suddenly you felt more alone than ever.

The rain was drizzling in London, a welcome change to the blistering heat Vegas had given you in the days you had been there. However, the most welcome sight was the six-foot-one lean frame of your father leaning against his pride and joy. The bright metallic blue with two very wide vertical stripes up the hood of it had been a staple in your family since you were twenty.

The blue Shelby Cobra had been challenging to find, but it was worth the massive grin on Theodore Y/L/N’s face. You and your mother had joined forces with your uncles to get it for your Dad, and one of them was a mechanic that did most of the work.

“Dad!” You yelled, jumping into his arms. Dad’s grip tightened around your shoulders with his face smushed into your neck.

“Darling!” He exclaimed just as he did no matter how long it had been since you saw each other. You were closest with him from father-daughter days watching football (the European version of soccer).

“Mum at home?” You questioned as he placed the small amount of luggage in the tiny boot of the car. His e/c eyes, the ones you inherited from him, twinkled with mischief and a wink.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but there’s a surprise.” He spoke ushering you into the passenger seat on the left side of the car. It was still jarring driving on the opposite side of the road in America.

“Another one to sway me from moving to Washington?” You retorted to the tall male in the driver’s seat. At the mention of moving his smile dimmed like it did when you flew to see Cherry for a while.

As he drove down the streets, your eyes scoured his features as if it had been years instead of mere weeks. He had been in Germany for business for a week when you flew out to Las Vegas. His hair still had the dark locks with grey mixed throughout as if had been since he was in his late twenties. The laugh lines still the same as they had been previously, but the most important thing was that he was still healthy.

Ted Y/L/N had beaten a severe bout of sickness a few years ago that had taken months of recovery. It was just second nature to check him before anything else.

“How’s Cherry.”

“Living happily with her success story.” You piped up, finding it would be the perfect place to start planting Charlie’s existence. Your father glanced over slightly confused as you continued, “After Harvey, Cherry signed me up for a dating app. I hit it off with someone, and I’ve been dating them ever since.”

“A dating app.” He questioned glancing over, “Aren’t those what people use to sleep around? Nothing wrong with having sex but isn’t that what the apps are predominantly used for?”

Your lip was taken between your teeth, “Some of them are. The one that Cherry did was surprisingly more about human connection. He’s originally from Canada but moved to Los Angeles for work.”

“Hm.” Ted hummed keeping his entire focus on the road, “And are you okay with this so soon after-“

“I never acknowledged this, but I waited a few months before I told you that Harvey and I broke up. I hit it off with Charlie, and well I’ve never been so in love before.”

“I sense there’s a chapter in this new love that I’m not going to be thrilled about. Out with it.” He ordered momentarily glancing over to see you sheepishly grinning, “Are you preg-“

“I married Charlie-“

To both your father’s and your horror the sound of the Shelby’s tires screeching reached your ears. The car skidded to a stop in the middle of the street with yelps coming straight from your surprised mouth. Dad’s eyes blinking owlishly at the road.

“You’re married? To someone, I’ve never even met?” The question was croaked from the middle-aged man staring straight ahead. The car slowly moved down the road as Dad applied less pressure to the pedal.

“It was so fast, but I swear you’ll meet him. He’s flying out to help me pack, and we’ll fly out to Washington. You’ll love him.” You gushed ignoring the smart of guilt at lying to the first man that had ever truly loved you.

The father that had learnt how to do your hair and supported you in everything you did; for the first few years, he had been a stay at home dad. Your mother was the one that worked and then when you got to the right age, your father returned to work. He had taught you how to ride a bike and drive, the police didn’t need to know you were driving years before you legally could.

“Your Nan is going to be pissed.” He snorted, shaking his head, “You’ll be throwing him to the wolves at the reunion.”

The reunion you had completely forgotten about. Shit.

A month later brought Charlie to your small half-packed flat in London and then straight to your parents’ house in the country. The country home had been in your family for years before your parents moved out of the city full time.

“Okay. So, your five-year-old cousin is adamant he be called Agent Jack because he works for James Bond. Don’t mention football, which is soccer in the US, or else World War III between your Nan and great-aunt Dottie will happen.”

“Oh! My mom loves ice hockey! She grew up playing until she was in high school!” You gasped glancing over at Charlie in the passenger seat of the car. He’d arrived two days ago ahead of schedule to get rested for the reunion.

This morning he had spent longer getting ready with his hair meticulously styled and his clothes chosen to fit the weather and the event. No matter how much you had soothed him, the nerves still flared. This wasn’t meeting your SO’s parents, this meeting his wife’s family who had no clue about him.

“Do I call your Dad, Mr. Y/L/N or Sir?” Charlie questioned as the country zipped by in the clear window of the car. His fingers tapped the beat to the JATP song ‘Now or Never’ on the black denim of his jeans.

“Go with Sir.” You replied, reaching one hand over to grasp his in your hand, “My Nan will interrogate you about where we would have kids. Aunt Dottie will ask if you got me pregnant and that’s I’ve never said anything about us.”

“I…really? They’ll ask that?” Charlie choked turning to face you entirely with a face pale as bleached bone. The wince you offered was enough for him to relax into the leather of the car.

“Their old ladies that live on gossip and personal questions. But don’t underestimate Nan if she gets plastered and demands an arm wrestle. You won’t win.”

The car rolled to a stop on the rocky drive filled with other vehicles of all colours and types. The house was the background feature of the menagerie of cars. It was a gorgeous colour your mom had spent weeks trying to find in countless shops before she saw it three hours away. Flowers were strategically placed for viewing pleasure.

“Your house is beautiful.” Charlie breathed circling the car to open your door without prompt just it had become second nature to him. His hazel eyes moved across the parcel of land your parents owned.

Before your lips could even part to respond, you were attacked in a hug by two little pairs of arms. The sandy coloured hair, one set of curls hitting past their shoulders and the other a mop on his head. You knew immediately it was your little cousin Jack and his twin JJ from the strength of the hug.

“Y/N!” The twins squealed jumping in their spots as their father, your uncle Seth, corralled them. His eyes crinkled with the grin that matched your father and other uncles. It was the signature L/N smile your family carried.

“Hey! It’s Agent Jack and-“

“Doctor JJ! I’m Jack’s doctor!” JJ clapped her small hands together, displaying her cute little dimples. Charlie’s quiet awe melted your traitor heart entirely, “Is he your boyfriend?”

The three adults’ all had a deep chuckle at her cute little scrunched nose as she saw Charlie’s hand grasp yours.

“Not exactly. You know how Dad and I are married?” Seth asked, crouching in front of his little girl. Her eyes blinked in confusion, “Y/N and Charlie are married. Y/N is his wife, and he’s Y/N’s husband.”

In his usual tornado-esque style, Jack had already taken off around the side of the house to the family gathered. JJ’s hand had slid into her father’s familiar grip.

“But Daddy you and Dad are husbands? How can they be married if she’s a girl?” JJ pouted with her green eyes twinkling in suspicion.

“Well, JJ. When two boys get married, they are husbands, if two girls get married, they are wives, but if a boy and girl get married, they become husband and wife. Or maybe depending on the genders they prefer to be called partners.” Seth told his little girl as his husband Fred rested his hand on his shoulder. While Seth was fair-haired and blue eyes, his husband Fred was the example of tall, dark and handsome with green eyes.

“Okay.” JJ simply spoke, skipping over to grab Charlie’s hand in her left and yours in her right. The little girl dragging you two in the direction her brother had disappeared around where the noise grew louder.

“Relax.” You whispered to the wide-eyed Canadian steadily becoming quieter and more nervous. As soon as you rounded the corner of the house, JJ released your hands to chase after Jack and your other cousins.

“You have a big family,” Charlie mumbled, looking over the adults and the young children set away. His eyes found your parents wrapped in each other’s arms talking with a woman confidently wearing the marks of time and wisdom, “You have your father’s smile.”

“I know.” You spoke tugging him to your parents, “Dad! Mum!”

The couple glanced over to see the man that had snuck into their family without a hint. Your father was quick to tug you in a bear hug with a resounding kiss on your forehead. Mum had yanked Charlie into a hug as well that relaxed him with the words she whispered in his ear.

“This is Charlie Gillespie. Charlie this is my mum and dad Theodore and Amelia.” You swiftly introduced the three people in your life.

It was tense for a moment before it melted away, “He’s a lot better than Harvey.”

“Ted!” Mum spoke slapping his arm, “It’s not his fault he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth-“

“-and a boob in his hand.” Dad chortled, dodging the slap from your mortified Mum. Her dark eyes wide open in shock, she really shouldn’t be surprised with your father, at how he had spoken.

Charlie’s lips parted in a strong of impish laughter bringing a grin to your little party’s faces. All the nerves from before melted from the Canadian as he found he fit in perfectly with your parents. His hand never felt yours the rest of the night, and with it, you wished you didn’t have to live with the ruse. You had fallen swiftly for the Canadian and wished this was marriage was real.

It wouldn’t be until Charlie, and you had devoured the food and two mugs of beer that the truth comes out in the upstairs bathroom. You couldn’t be sure who made the first move, but two hours upon arriving at the reunion Charlie had you pinned against the bathroom door. Lips moving against each other like you’d been made for each other.

“Mhm.” Charlie moaned, gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. The vision of seeing your bruises hips had a flutter in your stomach.

Heat rose from your stomach to your chest as your fingers slid into his once perfectly groomed hair. His lips parting yours with a warmth that washed over your entire body like the sun brushing skin after peeking behind a fluffy cloud. If Heaven was a feeling, this would be it.

Charlie’s hands slid under your shirt to rest on the warmth of your hips, a fire flared at his mere touch. He only parted from your lips at the sound of the floorboards outside the bathroom.

“Call me crazy, or the beer is making me say this. I’ve never felt this way for someone like I do for you,” Charlie whispered brushing your temple with his lips. The words created a shiver down your spine, “We have this connection and ease between us. I see you in the sunlight when I first wake up, and all I ever want to do is cuddle you close.”

“Char-“

“I know we’ve gone about this out of order, but I’d really like to be more than what we are. I want to be more than a guy making your ex regret hurting you. I want to be more than just your accidental husband. I want to do this the right way.”

“Me too.” You fully admitted, “Watching you geek out over my dad’s car with me. I want to keep seeing that. There’s something I’ve been keeping from you that I need to say before this goes further.”

“What’s wrong?” Charlie murmured cupping your cheeks in his warm hands. His hazel eyes lingered on your swollen lips that no doubt matched his own.

Your bright e/c eyes flickered between his hazel orbs with something he couldn’t quite decipher.

“If we do this, there are things I won’t be able to talk to you about when it comes to my job. It’s sensitive information, and no matter how much I trust you, I won’t be able to say anything. Charlie, the reason I’m moving to Washington is because I finished my tasks.”

Your hands moved around as you spoke to the silent Canadian just staring at you, “So what kept you in England for so long?”

“I work for the CIA. I have since I was recruited on a college campus a few years ago.” You revealed to the flabbergasted actor blinking rapidly. His mouth hung open, and his eyes widened more than you thought possible.

“So, we’re both in the business of deceit and pretending.” He grumbled, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “I’m an actor by the way. It doesn’t matter what your job is, all I care about is trying to make this work.”

That was the moment that turned your relationship around, a year later, you had traditionally renewed your vows. Your wedding in the backyard of your parents’ house with friends and family watching as you walked down the aisle in your white wedding dress. Charlie waiting with the officiant unaware of the tiny gift of a little bean inside your belly growing.

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

Text

Title: In The Act {1}

Chris Evans x Famous OFC Cassia Drake

Warning: Plot, Mild Cursing

Word Count: 2.2

Summary: After the release of your hit movie “Roman Holiday,” you’ve become Hollywood’s new “It Girl.” Everyone wants a piece of you. While at a Hollywood event, you get pulled into an epic selfie similar to the one from the MET Gala with the megastars of Hollywood. The next day all anyone can talk about is this epic picture but not because of the star power in it, but what was happening in it.

Note: Yep, another one.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread**

**Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️❤️

“God, it’s hot!”

You fanned your face and tried to cool your skin. It wasn’t helping one bit; you were just getting hotter.

“My makeup is going to melt, and when I get there, I’ll be a hot mess.”

“Calm down, Cass, I got you,” Tiffany said, whipping out a portable handheld power fan. The cool breeze was the best thing you’d felt all day.

You hated getting ready for events. It was always a whole day thing that left your hair damaged, your skin dry and slightly irritated, your cheeks soar, your back aching, your feet cramped, and your energy completely gone. To you, this was one part of fame you didn’t like too much. You’d spent the last six hours getting ready for this event, and you were already counting down the hours to go home.

“Fix your face. I’ve told you about the scowl. It causes wrinkles.” Pieter scolded. You rolled your eyes then closed them.

“Ignore him,” Tiffany began fanning your agent and manager off before she continued. “You look incredible. You’re going to get out this limo, and you’re going to stun them on this red carpet and have a good time,” she finished.

You looked at her wide smile. “And maybe cop a few numbers. I hear the who is who of the industry is going to be there. Maybe a certain blue-eyed ex-captain will be there,” Tiffany added.

You snorted and gave her the eye for her to stop. The last thing you needed was for Pieter to hear and actually understand your code. He had just gotten done hammering into you that dating was out of the questions now. According to him, you were going to be too busy with all your obligations. You needed to keep your eye on the prize and your career and not complicating it. He had a point. It was hard enough to set yourself apart from the countless other young actresses, but it would be harder for you because you were black. It was a known fact, a black actor in Hollywood had to work twice as hard, but a black actress had to work thrice as hard as them all put together. It was unfair, but it was what you’d signed up for, and you were determined to stake your claim in this glittering town where fallacies were the norm. So if Peiter said you had to put the nix on dating, then it was what you would do.

You could feel Pieter’s eyes burning a hole into you. Straightening, you held your head high. “Don’t be silly, Tiff. This is business.” Tiffany rolled her eyes while Pieter gave you an approving nod before he buried his face back into his phone.

Tiffany adjusted her dress and took her cell phone out. You knew what she intended to do, so you took yours out as well and put it on silent.

MSG Tiff: You give him too much power.

MSG: I give him as much power as he needs to have.

MSG Tiff: And he needs to have control over your personal life?

MSG: Tiff, you know what I’m up against. Cut me some slack.

“Phones away, it’s time to work,” Pieter announced. You dropped your phone back into your clutch and prepared yourself for the sea of paps and deafening screams.

When the limo stopped, there were a few moments of quiet before Pieter got out first on the opposite side that the red carpet was on.

“Remember to have a good time, okay, Cass. Yeah, it’s work, but you’ve worked hard to get to this level of your career. It’s important to enjoy life as well as work,” Tiff cautioned with a gentle squeeze to your hand.

You knew she was right, and times like these, you were happy that she was down to coming on this ride with you. You’d been friends since you were nine ever since she saved you lunch after you got sent to the principal’s office for getting into a fight with one of the boys from the other class who didn’t know how to shut up. Ever since then, you were inseparable. When you got your big break, there was no doubt you wanted her by your side for this wild ride.

The door opened, and you took a deep breath before you stepped out with Pieter’s help. Once you stepped out, the screams got louder, and the flurry of camera flashes immediately blinded and stunned you. This wasn’t your first event, but they all still managed to stun you. Feeling Tiff’s hand take yours, you took a breath and squeezed it, fighting the nerves. You pulled her to your side and walked the carpet with your signature smile. As they screamed your name telling you where to look, it quickly got hectic.

You and Tiffany walked down the carpet posing and whispering to each other. Tiff pointed out funny things she peeped with the paps as well as other actors who walked the carpet with you. When you came to these things with Tiffany, she always managed to take you out of the seriousness of it all, and you were grateful for it.

After giving a few interviews and posing for a few more pictures, you went inside to find your seats. This event was a banquet that was geared towards the collaboration of fashion and film. There would be speeches, recognition, networking, and, most importantly, for you and Tiff, food, and alcohol.

“Ms. Drake, allow me to show you to your seats.”

You nodded and let one of the ushers lead you through the floor. As you passed people, you smiled and waved. When they saw you, everyone wanted to stop you and compliment your hair, dress, makeup, jewels, and, most importantly, your performance in Roman Holiday. What should have been a minute walk across the floor turned into a mini networking catwalk. You didn’t get to your table for another thirty minutes. By the time you sat, Tiff was on queue with pouring a glass of champagne.

“It’s Ace of Spades. Do you think Jay and Bey are gonna be here?”

You snorted and shook your head. Her goal was to meet Beyoncé and Jay Z. you couldn’t fault her, whose goal wasn’t to meet them. You tapped glasses and downed the liquid with a moan. It was good.

“The way they were touching you, I thought you’d be missing a few jewels,” Tiff joked. Your laugh couldn’t be suppressed, and it rang out, bringing the attention of a few people around you.

“Stop it, you’re going to make them think I have no couth,” you whined to her in a whisper.

“Oh please. Even if you showed to be uncouth, they would still flock to you. Everyone wants a piece of you now. Soak it up.”

She was right. Since the premiere of Roman Holiday eight months ago, your name was at the tip of everyone’s tongue. You’d done at least six magazine shoots and countless interviews where the term “it girl” was thrown around quite a lot. The film had already rolled in over four hundred million at the box office, and you’d gotten calls from almost every big-name director wanting a meeting. It was overwhelming, but you tried to stay on top of it. Pieter said to ride the wave and learn how to jump to another that is higher.

“Hollywood is fickle, let’s not give them any fuel to turn the tides,” you said through a plastered smile while looking around you, returning the eye contact of those who were looking and whispering.

You still hadn’t gotten over the whispers. You never knew if they were good, or bad and it always got to you. When everyone took their seats, the event began. This was when the stares and whispers stopped. Everyone’s eyes were trained to the stage ahead, which gave you a reprieve. The show was filled with laughs, applause, and small talk. Tiffany had you in stitches, making fun of all the pomp and ridiculousness around you while those sitting around you did their best to keep your attention. You nodded, smiled, and did your best not to appear starstruck though you were more times than you could count.

After the show, and dinner it was again time to mingle and rub elbows. Thankfully good music helped. You walked around the room arm in arm with Tiff talking amongst yourselves. Every so often, you stopped and chatted with someone. First, it was Zac who was more buff in person then MBJ, who was just as charming as you’d expected him to be. When you were pulled to the side by Zendaya, who was still drop-dead gorgeous, you did your best to not come off as an amateur, but you found yourself hanging off of every word she spoke. It took you some time to recover.

When the music cranked up, and the talking turned down, you found yourself even more at ease. Tiffany was the only reason why you let loose the way you did. She urged you to dance and let your real self out while not caring who watched or what they said. Every time you tried, you saw Pieter from the corner of your eyes giving you a stern look that said keep it classy. So classy is what you kept it. It didn’t stop Tiffany from having the time of her life. You were glad for it. She deserved it.

By the time you looked at your phone, it was nearing two in the morning, and you were more than ready to go. Your feet were killing you, and you were tired of wearing clothes. You just wanted to lounge in bed completely naked while eating a pint of ice cream. As you made your move to leave with Tiff and Pieter on either side of you, you heard your name being shouted from across the room. You looked and saw a huddle of people waving you over.

“Go,” Pieter urged damn near pushing you toward them. You took Tiffany with you. When you got closer, it became clear what was going on. A group of at least ten of them were trying to get a selfie with everyone in the frame while one of them held their phone attached to a selfie stick. You snorted, remembering another photo like it.

“Come on, you guys, get in,” John Boyega invited.

“Absolutely,” Tiffany responded, pulling you along with her as she submerged herself in the crowd.

They all made room for you to squeeze in, and a squeeze was what it was. You looked to your left and nearly passed out. You were standing next to Chris Evans. His eyes met yours, and he gave you a friendly smile. As quickly as your eyes met, you looked away, finding Tiffany already looking. Your jaw dropped, giving her a look that she eagerly returned. You did your best to act cool and pose.

“All right, everyone, squish in.”

As instructed, everyone squished together. You felt his breath on your ear before you heard him.

“Is it okay?”

“What?” He leaned closer, giving you an even closer look at his lips. They looked soft.

“Is it okay, my hand?” You looked down to his arm as it registered what he was asking.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s cool,” you answered.

Chris’s arm wrapped around you, touching you in the middle of your back. Your heart literally skipped a beat, but you faked it and kept your cool.

“On three. One, two, three,” everyone counted down. Once at three, you smiled and struck your pose. As according to Hollywood standards, one picture was not good enough, two and three followed before a random paparazzi got in on the action and snapped a few as well. No one seemed to care, though.

“That was epic!” You didn’t know who it came from, but everyone erupted in laughter.

After going through a round of hugs with those who leaned in for one, you made your exit then got in the car. Once inside, you kicked off your heels and begged Tiffany to unhook the back of your corset. You couldn’t take it any longer. Pieter went over your schedule for later, but you barely listened. You were ready to call it a night and pass out.

Tiffany was the first to be dropped off, which left you and Pieter. He talked and talked. You were convinced he liked to hear himself talk. You knew everything he was saying was necessary, but you also knew that he would send an email and a text about the same thing in a few hours. You knew him that well. When he was dropped off, that was the first moment of peace you had all night. The silence was comforting.

You walked into your house just as it was turning three, and you wasted no time stripping your clothes off as you walked upstairs. Once in your bedroom, you only had your underwear on.

“Bed. Oh, how I’ve missed you.” You dropped face down, and before your head hit the five thousand thread count comforter, you were asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lee’s Note: What do y’all think? Should I continue?

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***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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#in the act fic #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x ofc #slow burn fanfic #angst fanfic #chris evans au

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league-of-thots · 4 years

Text

Leave Me a Message

Pairing: Hawks x reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, some suggestive themes, um gl with this? im told by my beta it was very sad

Words: 9.4k

A/N: so um. this happened. First off, if you’d like to go break your heart some more, go check out the MASTERLIST because everyone worked super hard on these and there are some really amazing writers.

Og, this was supposed to be 3k, and then it just kept going and im suffering ok jesus that was so long. it was also kind of a way for me to get out some of my own inner turmoil around some stuff and i fucking loved writing it. ...not to be lame but yes i did cry writing it (shhh) anyways, i hope you enjoy? as much as you can enjoy angst of course.

Hawks doesn’t do commitment. He’d said that from the start, that he wasn’t out looking for someone to try and grab his heart from out his chest, that he was simply looking for someone to keep his body company. He told you that he was tired of the press making a big deal of him being single, that all you would have to is hang out with him a bit, dates and couple things. He said that he’d been missing some company, that it would be amazing to have someone to spend some of his (very little) time off of patrol with. It was simple to you, who wouldn’t take the opportunity to be on the arm of a successful pro hero? Who would turn down the chance to learn more about the elusive Hawks, the one who’d baffled the media’s attempts to discover anything about him at all?

You told yourself you weren’t going to make the mistake of getting attached, he was the number two hero after all, he had so much choice. There was no way you were going to be an idiot about it, this was only for some curiosity about the man.

You enter the bar, a little awestruck at how clean and upscale it was. Of course, it wasn’t too surprising given the fact that this was the number 2 pro hero. He was bound to have some cash to throw around for a good time, plus he’d already told you that he’d be paying for the night.

How could you refuse him?

The night started out slow, the two of you lightly discussing regular day to day topics, but it intrigued you how carefully he spoke about everything. You didn’t really know him but you could’ve sworn that he had a plan with everything that he said, that everything he did was carefully calculated. To be honest, it was a little chilling, but as the alcohol started flowing along with the conversation, he relaxed a bit and you had to admit that he was a really fun person to talk to.

The two of you had gotten closer in the circular booth as the night had gone on, blaming the loud surroundings and dim light so that you could see and hear each other better. He had this dry wit that left you struggling for breath as you laughed at his jokes and his teasing. He seemed to be enjoying himself too, but honestly, you couldn’t really read him at all.

It was getting into the wee hours in the morning when the conversation took a more serious turn, the conversation starting to be about what this was, and what this would be.

He was quite direct that he’d make it worth your while

“No offense, love, but if I’m being completely honest, I’m just not good at relationships. They’re not my thing. But I’m lonely and bored, and honestly? You caught my eye.” He’d said this in a low voice to you at the bar, his breath tickling your ear and you flutter your eyelashes up at him.

“Are you asking me for a night of fun, Mr. Hawks?” you say coyly.

“Maybe a night, maybe more if I like you.” He leans in to whisper to you, “You’ve got a pretty good chance babe.”

“You’re not worried about me not liking you?” you weren’t really taken aback; it was to be expected from the number two hero that if you came to meet him, you were interested in him for sure.

He leans back, with his hands behind him. “If I’m reading your body language right, and I’m pretty good at that y’know, then I’d say you’ve been pretty excited the whole night.”

You laugh a bit at that. “Well, you’re not wrong I guess.”

“Then I have nothing to worry about at all.”

Your arrangement with Hawks started as a few dates in more secluded public areas, the first being a movie which you’d taken a bus to get too. When you’d gotten there, you went inside like he had asked you too. There, you saw him in the furthest corner, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn’t working well and you had to stifle a giggle as you walked up to him.

The only reason that people didn’t seem to be coming up to him was the fact that the normally upbeat and friendly hero was closed off, and looking rather downtrodden.

“Hey, Hawks.” You say, bumping his shoulder with your own playfully. “How’re you doing.”

“Better now that you’re here,” he smoothly slips his arm into yours, face morphing into a slightly happier expression. “Would you happen to be a fan of popcorn and a drink at the movies, Y/N?”

“Of course! How can you have one without the other?” He smiles at that, a quick upturn of his lips and its quickly gone again as he guides you to the counter to get some snacks and drinks. It wasn’t supposed to be an incredibly exciting movie, but it was supposed to be decent enough that the two of you could enjoy it together and relax without really having to push through any awkward tension that could still be around with the two of you being relative strangers.

It was like a neutral ground to start off the fake relationship, while the two of you could learn about one another. It had to look real in public after all, Hawks wanted people off his back.

Although, the last night the two of you had spent together after the bar had certainly been real. It had also left you so sore you could barely walk the next day, but that was another story for another day.

The two of you sit down in one of the further rows, but not in the back. You have a good view of the screen; you notice as you sit down with Hawks. You look over to him, and see that carefully guarded neutral expression on his face again. It’s almost as if there’s a mask he has under the skin of his face, that snaps back into place whenever it falters for a little, or he actually shows something of his true thoughts.

It was almost eerie how well he did it, how second nature it seemed to him. No wonder the press couldn’t get shit on him, you thought, he’s not exactly an open book to read, and he’s actively trying to make it harder for people. You wondered if it was just because he preferred his privacy or if he had a really big secret that he felt he needed to keep.

That was almost amusing, thinking the reason Hawks was so mysterious is some large secret that there was pressure on him to keep.

The opening previews shook you out of your thoughts, seeing one for a book to movie adaptation that was coming out soon and you were super pumped to see. It had your favourite director working on it, and they said they’d worked closely with the author during the script writing process you and were really hopeful that it would turn out well.

You looked to Hawks to whisper this to him in excitement and he leans over so you could whisper it so as to not disturb the people around you. When you’re done, he turns to whisper back in your ear, “Guess we’ll be back at the movies soon then.” He watches your face become a bright smile, a little heat in your face from excitement and a little embarrassment as he was giving you his full attention as you fangirled a bit.

The movie was actually pretty decent, you thought during the middle of it. The acting carried the script though, and they were lucky at how much chemistry there was between the actors given most of them hadn’t done movies with each other before. A little way after that, Hawks leaned back in his chair, actually more relaxed than you’d ever seen him before, as he brought his arm back around you. You rolled your eyes at the little cliché he’d performed, but still found it sweet. You could feel the warmth he gave off and it made you feel comfortable and safe.

After the movie, the two of you parted ways, but not before he gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek, and the promise to see you soon.

“I’m going to be really busy the next few weeks, so it might be a little while before we can do something like this again.” He warned, “Things are really picking up with criminal activity and such.”

“If you were going to be so busy you should be at home resting,” you scold, and then your eyes widen in shock at what you’d just blurted out. “I, uh- I mean…” you try to recover but Hawks was laughing hard.

“Trying to get rid of me so soon? I thought the date was pretty fun, myself.” He teases, seeing what you’ll do next.

“It was! Just um-, you’ve got to be safe out there and stuff. So, you should get your rest, I would understand if you had to cancel because of that.” You finish a little lamely.

“That’s very sweet, Y/N, it really is. But honestly? Doing something like this is way more of a recharge for me. Makes me relax a little bit. So, thank you for the nice date. That is if you’ll have me?” he cocks an eyebrow with a crooked smile.

“Of course, now go get some sleep, bird brain.” He chuckles, and with a wave he’s off, streaking through the air. You’re hit with a bit of a gust of wind, but seeing him fly up close? Totally worth it.

You turn around and start walking to the bus stop that’ll take you back home, it had been quite a good date and you were in high spirits.

You could see this whole arrangement working out quite well for you, if that first date was anything to go by.

The fourth date was the one that he really started to show you what actually lay beneath the mask that he put on all the time. The two of you had been texting over a few weeks, and because he was so busy, a couple short get togethers happened, but this was the first time he had a whole day off for a long time.

The topics the two of you had been texting about varied to asking simple questions about what kind of tea was your favourite, to what you thought would happen to you after you died. That had been a weird night, but you saw the next day it had been because Hawks had been on patrol and had been unable to completely save people from a villain. It had been one person out of hundreds, but you could feel his guilt through the screen.

Among the lighter topics though, you found out that Hawks hadn’t really ever learned how to cook or bake. He said that he never learned from anyone, so he mostly did takeout and easy to make meals. You decided it would be fun to teach him how to bake, there were a few sweet treats that were easy enough to do. Certainly, he’d be able to handle it, you thought, especially since he made so many other difficult things look easy.

Hawks, in fact, could not handle it, you’d later find out.

The doorbell rings, and you take off your apron that you’d been wearing to get the baking started so that it wouldn’t take as long. There was still a fair amount of work to do, and the icing had to be made. You’re really hoping he enjoys it, it’s a new idea and you’re a little nervous.

You greet him and take his coat to hang it up as he takes off his shoes, he’s wearing cargo pants and unmatching socks, one pink and the other grey, along with a black t-shirt. You let him look around a bit before directing him to the kitchen a little nervously.

“Um, so I was thinking because you said you’d never really baked before that we could try and make a little something?” you’re fiddling with the hem of your shirt as he grabs your hands to stop you from doing that.

“That sounds like a really fun idea, Y/N. It’s really cute.” He gives you a quick smile as you smile at the praise. “Now. What are we making Chef?”

You giggle a bit at that. “I was thinking a carrot cake with some buttercream icing.”

“Well that doesn’t sound easy.” You shush him.

“It is! And I’ve already done some of it, so we can eat it sooner.”

He looks unconvinced. “I don’t know if I can handle this.”

“It’s baking,” you scoff. “You save people for a living, I’m pretty sure you can handle some baking.”

Famous last words, the start wasn’t to bad, Hawks fallowing your instructions carefully. It was when he got confident that he first fucked it up.

“So, now all you have to do is whip this with the blender for a few minutes around the bowl. When it starts getting a thicker consistency let me know, because that’s when you have to hand do it.” You’d decided on cinnamon rolls with a nice smooth icing on top that would become a glaze.

“Got it,” he chirps, putting the metal parts of the hand mixer in the bowl before starting it up and putting to medium high like you’d instructed him to do. “Maybe you were right, sweets, this isn’t too bad.”

“See? Even a bird brain like you can get it!” you laugh.

And then it happened.

After you said that to him, he turned around to give you a playful spank on the ass, forgetting he’d been holding the bowl on the counter in place with his hand. At the same time, he lifted the hand holding the mixer.

You both let out a sharp cry of surprise, you from getting slapped and both of you from the loud crash and the bowl goes flying and the icing gets flung everywhere. You look at him slack-jawed as he frantically turns off the hand mixer and gives you a sheepish look.

“Oops?” he says with a nervous smile.

“Oh. My god.” You get out before you start laughing so hard you’re keeled over, your stomach starting to hurt. “What the fuck Hawks? Hahah! How did you manage to get the bowl to fly that far!”

He scratches his hair and laughs along with you. “I’m actually really unsure, I honestly thought that I was going to get through this without messing it up. Sorry I ruined the icing, Y/N.”

You wave your hand. “It’s fine, cinnamon rolls are still good without the toppings.”

“Hold up.” You turn over and he has a calculating look on his face. “Is this why you did most of the mixing before I got here.”

“Noooooo…… of course not.” You say unconvincingly, knowing he already knows the answer.

“You’re so mean to me,” he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip like a child.

“Hey, but now we can still eat the cinnamon roles! So that’s a good thing.” You say brightly, swiping a bit of the icing with your finger and popping it in your mouth. He looks down at you and for once his eyes crinkle with a genuine smile and your heart skips a beat. He’s absolutely stunning, you think.

“Uh, let’s get – let’s get this all cleaned up, alright?” you get out turning yourself around to distract your thoughts from him. And his eyes, when they crinkle, and oh my god he’s such a cutie, what the fuck?

You somehow manage to avoid acting like a fool for the remainder of the time while the two of you clean up, trading words and jokes with one another, the conversation flowing like a lazy stream.

When they were done you squealed out in excitement and grabbed some mitts to take out the pan but as soon as you open the oven door, some feathers zip in to grab it. You look over at him and he gives you an innocent smile.

“Wouldn’t want you to accidentally drop them.” You scowl.

“I’m not the one who made a mess of the whole kitchen, you dork.”

“Fair enough, where do I put these?”

“Just put the tray on the pads in the dining room, I’m going to make some tea.”

“Alright.”

Once the water is heated, you grab a few different packets to see what he wants, and make your way over to the table with him. You gesture at the tea packets, and he takes the Camomile tea and you open the kettle to let him drop it in.

“Now we just have to wait for the tea to steep and the rolls to cool down! Not too bad if I do say so myself.” You tell him happily. It had been really fun watching him do something so carefree, he seemed more relaxed than normal.

“It was really fun Y/N.” he said with what you thought genuine sincerity. “I never got to really do this before, and it was a lot different than I thought it would be baking with someone.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it Hawks!”

“Uh, you could call me Takami? That’s my family name. Keigo Takami.” He says, stumbling over it a bit, as if the words were trying to rush themselves out of his mouth.

You pour out the tea into the cups you have, and you watch him dive into the rolls, face lit up. He really likes his sweets, and he says how good they are and how he was so amazed he’d had a part in making them.

“Most of the stuff I try to cook either tastes bland, gross, or its burnt.” He mentions offhandedly.

You look at him closely. “Seriously? I’m going to have to teach you how to cook so you can actually get some healthy food into you aren’t I?”

“You don’t have to do that!”

“Yes, I do.” He doesn’t argue with you, knowing that the battle is lost, and accepts it with a sigh.

The two of you finish the night by watching a movie, which leads to something, which leads to something else… It was a pretty awesome date night you think as you drift off to sleep.

Although doing ‘couple-like’ things in public, you found the two of you were growing closer as friends, at least, outside of any bedrooms. There was something free and liberating about being a friend (with benefits) to Keigo, and you got to glimpse the tiny parts of his life that had physical forms, whether it be photos, or actions or stories.

The more you learned though, the more you wanted to know more about him, to understand him and be there for him.

You saw how lonely he actually was, he really wasn’t joking when he’d said that to you on the first night the two of you had seen each other in person. How his life when he wasn’t being the Number Two Hero was empty as if he didn’t really know what to do with it, as if he were lost and didn’t really know himself either.

The only picture he had of people in his house was one with him, and a middle-aged woman with weary eyes that must’ve been his mother. The photo was a little yellowed, and a little crumpled, but the frame was simple wood with intricate carvings on the side. There was a wooden flower beside it.

What had happened to him? To his family?

Sometimes when you called him Keigo as you entered a room and he wasn’t facing you; he would shudder as if someone had a knife pressed to his throat, and there was nothing that he could do about it. Or when sometimes he would dose off and mumble in his sleep for someone to help him, he promises he’d do better next time… You always tried to wake him up gently when that happened, and he’d thank you and then shut down any attempts to talk about it. Every time. Not a single word.

So, you let it be.

Obviously, he didn’t know how to not be alone, and it stung you to the very core that nobody else was really there for him.

Everyone needs a friend, and you were happy to be that friend for him.

You realized the predicament you were in suddenly one day as you were going into your regular café for your morning coffee, ordering one for yourself and one for the winged hero who you planned to spend some time before patrol with. You didn’t even second guess ordering his coffee just as he liked it, excited to see the smile on his face when you’d give it to him. He’d still get surprised by the little gestures you’d do to show him that you cared, that it wasn’t just a game for you, that you were his friend.

You hadn’t realized how rare it was to get a genuine smile from him, but you were willing to do so much just to see it. Then it hit you. You wouldn’t go to these lengths for any friend, Keigo was special to you in a way that the other’s in your life weren’t. You think you know what that means, and it terrifies you.

You knew he didn’t do the whole relationship aspect, he’d said as much, and everything in his life had backed that up as well.

The barista has to call you a couple times for you to snap you out of your mild panicked thoughts, looking a little annoyed. You quickly apologize, shoving your feelings down and grabbing the coffees hastily as you make your way to the place where he’d be meeting you. You were going to be a couple minutes late, which always made you flustered, and on top of that you were freaking out about trying to keep those emotions you’d buried down there.

They were not going to see the light of day, you promised yourself that. Maybe you could cram them down so far deep that they’d disappear.

Ha. As if. You knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, but that was a later problem that you weren’t prepared to deal with right now.

When you get there, a smile does light up his face as he thanks you, relishing the coffee. The two of you start walking down the street, Hawks waving at people who yell at him, putting on that fake-smile-that-looks-real for people who ask him to join them in a picture, or sign something for them.

He did it all with patience, but through the cracks you could see the weariness dripping through. The way he put it was that he wanted to do as little work as possible. You assume that’s for this part of the hero business as well.

“Well, thank you for your support! I’ll be sure to do my best, don’t worry.” He says to a little boy, bending down and flicking his hat, which gets a smile and a giggle from the kid. “Thank you all for your support!” he says loudly as he stands up, and people cheer before easily making their way away from him, the dismissal clear.

The two of you sip your coffee as you walk down the street. You said you’d go for a quick walk around the city with him before he has to clock in for patrol. While you’re walking, he laces his fingers with yours.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he mutters under his breath. Your pulse is fluttering but you shake your head no and sip on your coffee. “Good, it’s getting chilly.”

After you drop him off you can’t help but look at your hand and smile, giggling to yourself a bit as you squeeze your hand. His hand had been so smooth compared to what you thought it would be like, but then again, he didn’t really fight with his fists and he wore gloves. It had felt so good though, the weight of his hand in yours.

After you noticed how you felt about Keigo though, it became harder and harder to try and ignore the feelings that seemed to bubble up whenever the two of you would talk or text or hang out. Little pangs of excitement would ring out against your will whenever the chime of the ringtone you’d set for him would sound.

You perk up a little as once again it alerts, going over to read what he sent you.

Keigo: gonna have to be away a little more in the next few weeks -_-

Y/N: aww why :(

Keigo: secret stuff shhhhhh. I gotta go check out some weird villain movement

Y/N: stay safe ok?

Keigo: don’t worry, they won’t catch me im too fast :P

Y/N: srsly if you die ill kill you >:(

You don’t hear from it at all in the next few weeks, and you didn’t realize how much the two of you had been in contact with, but your days felt strangely empty without the noise that he made so often.

You missed him, and more than that, you were worried about him so much. Since when did top heroes go on secret assignments? Wasn’t that stuff for the underground heroes to take care of? Why did he sound so calm about it?

The questions whirled around in your head, day in and day out. The couple of weeks pass in a daze for you, everything seeming out of wack in your life. Part of you was angry at yourself for being so distracted by him, and the other part was busy screaming all the worst-case scenarios that could happen to him. You have nightmares about him injured and bleeding, eyes lifeless. You check your phone at least a few times whenever you can, just seeing if maybe he’s sent a text to you.

You’ve sent him a few messages here and there, small things like “I hope you’re doing ok!”, or “I miss you”, or “I’m really hoping you’re safe.”

In the middle of the third week, you hear that chime and you jump up, excited. It’s a short message, but he must be exhausted from his mission, he was away for so long. He asked if you could go over to his apartment sometime soon. Said he needed to talk to you and stuff. His text was short and to the point, he seemed nervous about something.

Some of the worries had disappeared at the ringing noise came creeping back at that, but you responded that you would whenever you were both free. He said that he’d be off of work for a little while, which was concerning, so you were going over tomorrow. You settled in for a rough night.

What were you supposed to bring to someone’s house when they had been tossed into secret mission to track down some dangerous villains and were most likely injured? There wasn’t a handguide on that unfortunately, but you did know that he loved one of the soups you had made one time. So, you made some in the morning when you got up, put it in a container and on your way to his apartment for lunch.

Hopefully that would be acceptable, even though you knew Keigo didn’t really care that much about pomp and other gifts. You think he was grateful to have some company, he loved being on the move and sitting still for a long time would be a special type of hell.

So, you wanted to do something nice for him.

In all honesty, you didn’t think it would be that bad when he opened the door with a bruised and cut face, as well as an arm sling with his ribs all bandaged up.

“Oh my god!” you screamed, your free hands flying up to your face. “What the hell happened to you!” he shushes you and pulls you into the apartment.

“Not so loud! It’s not public!” he chastises you.

“Oh, right sorry. I’m just – Keigo, what happened to you? You disappear for almost three full weeks and you come back looking as if someone used you as a punching bag.”

“Surprisingly enough, that metaphor is rather accurate.” You feel your eyes bugging out of your head and he sees that. “Hey! Don’t worry, this isn’t the worse I’ve been beaten up- Oh god that’s probably not comforting.”

“No, it isn’t! Is there anything you can tell me?” you plead.

He shakes his head sadly, pretending to zip up his lips and lock them. “But I can tell you that I’ll be back to normal in about a week or so. I could also tell you about the people I met that weren’t y’know, villains. And you brought soup! You’re the best dove.” You blush a little at the new nickname, but you did notice that the nervousness he’d had when he’d been texting with was definitely still there and it put you off a little bit.

The two of you ate, the only sounds coming from eating, and the brief comments that Keigo was giving about where he’d been. You nodded in interest, interjecting every once and a while to ask a question for detail.

After the meal, the two of you sat down together in silence until Keigo cleared his throat.

“Can I talk to you about something more serious?” You nodded, here came what he’d been stressing about since last night. “God, ok this is harder than I thought for some reason.” He gives a dry chuckle. You stay silent. “Um, I think we’re going to have to take a break from the whole ‘side benefits’ we got going along, you okay with that, dove?” ah. So, this was it. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. But at least you knew what, now you wanted to hear the why.

But Keigo was fickle, he didn’t like being backed into a corner. If you would’ve directly asked, you’d get no answer that would satisfy you. So you sit their with your heart falling out of your chest.

“I mean, if that’s what you want.” You say as neutrally as possible, trying to hide the hurt from your features. It didn’t work as well as you planned based on Keigo’s scowl.

“You’ve got to talk to me, what about that makes you upset?”

“It’s nothing, I’ll get over it. I knew this wouldn’t last forever.” You mutter, trying to shrug him off. At least this way you could get over him, maybe.

“I did say no guarantees at the beginning,” he frowns. It felt like he was rubbing it into your face, and it fucking stung like a cut being washed with rubbing alcohol. “I told you that I’m not good with this whole interpersonal thing.”

“Yeah, I fucking know that!” each word was like a sting, and your voice echoes in the empty apartment. “Can you at least tell me why.” You hate that your voice cracks on that last sentence.

“There’s this someone I’ve been talking too, when I was out there. A little rough around the edges, but really fucking amazing. I was trying to slip into their friend group you know? Turns out we felt the same way.”

You feel your heart drop out of your chest and into your stomach. “Wow, Keigo! That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you!” you hear yourself say. The words ring hollow, but he’s so wrapped up in his excitement that for once, he doesn’t notice.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” he enthuses, impassioned. “It’s like a totally different wavelength you know.” His feathers were doing this cute little ruffling, and your heart ached. You had to keep your hand back from going to smooth them. Some nights, when the two of you were just hanging out and relaxing, he’d let you smooth them out. He said it felt good, and the texture always made you feel calm.

You needed some of that calm right now.

“I’m glad you found someone then.” And you really were, you knew how alone he was. You were happy he found someone he liked. You just wish it had been you.

You think it was some type of torture, watching Keigo fall in love with someone else. The way he’d talk with his eyes lighting up, the way that he’d do that thing where his feathers would ruffle when he’d think of them with a dopey smile on his face when he thinks you’re too occupied to pay attention to him.

It fucking killed you when it happens, although you made no effort to break away from him. You couldn’t. You knew that he needed you there, he’d said as much with his small actions, the way he thanked you every time you spent time with him.

You wondered what you had done to deserve this.

Eventually, it was too much for you too handle, when he’d started leaving the city more often to go visit them, you started making excuses for why you didn’t have as much time for him in the few weeks.

“Works really busy this week sorry.”

“Oh, I’m sick, and I wouldn’t want you to catch it”

“I’m sorry I’m really tired, I can’t hang out today.

You couldn’t get over him, and you couldn’t tell him either. It seems you could do nothing but ache while he prospered.

It was hard, making distance. You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had gotten, and you hadn’t realized that you had needed him as much as he needed you.

The phone rings and you see the caller.

Of course, it’s him. It seems no matter how you try to distance yourself you can’t really get away from him. It always seems like you’re in his wingspan. Always in his reach.

You pick up the phone, “Hey Keigo! What’s up.”

You were a fucking fool. Keigo might’ve been the one with the wings, but you’d flown too close to the sun that you’d wanted to see and learn about. The sun that you’d wanted to bask in the warmth in and claim as your own.

You’d forgotten one of the first things that he’d texted you.

It hurt so bad.

You were such an idiot.

At first when Keigo said he’d been dumped a few months later; you didn’t believe him. Who the fuck would tell Hawks that he wasn’t good enough for them?

“Ha-ha, very funny joke Keigo.” You say sarcastically. “Don’t stand there out in the rain, idiot.” You gesture for him to come inside.

He makes his way over the doorstep, eyes unfocused as if he hadn’t even noticed the fact that it was raining. He wordlessly hands you his phone, and you gasp at the text that he’d been sent.

They said he couldn’t be trusted, that they didn’t want to work to get him to open himself up, that even he wasn’t worth the amount of effort they’d need to use in order to actually get to know him.

“Still don’t believe me?” His voice cracks on the last word, as he takes a deep breath to compose himself.

“Fuck, Keigo. I’m so sorry. I didn’t- I’m so sorry.” You bring him in, sit him down and go grab him a towel with some old clothes one of your exes had left in your home when you’d broken up.

You hand it to him and tell him to shower if he wants to, but at least put some dry clothes on. He listlessly follows your instructions, and you’ve never seen him look so dull. It scared you. While he’s busy though – you vaguely hear your shower in the background get turned on – as you put some tea on. Chamomile, his first choice all those months ago. It was his comfort tea. You also slipped into your room to grab the softest blanket you had.

You waited about half an hour for him, so you turned on the gas fireplace in the room, warming yourself and staring into the flames as you waited.

Who would say something so terrible?

You’d never met his partner, Keigo was secretive at the best of times, but when it came to people, he was especially paranoid. You knew it was because he’d amassed enemies in his years as a pro, but sometimes it was frustrating to deal with.

However, they must have been truly awful to say something like that.

You wonder if they would’ve said that stuff if they’d seen the empty apartment, bare of most things that gave a house a character. The lone photo which looked to be at least a decade, maybe closer to two, years old.

You wonder if they had seen past the mask too, and if that had scared them. Or maybe they hadn’t even noticed it in the first place given the wording of the final text. You knew the pain Keigo was going through, you lived through it every. Single. Day.

You hated seeing it, but a small selfish part of you celebrated the fact that you had a chance again.

Pathetic.

You place your head in your hands, trying to clean your thoughts. You needed to be here for him again, and you were going to be.

When he walks into the room, he notices you and slumps down into the couch, his eyes red, and his jaw clenched.

But he wasn’t crying, and it didn’t look like he had either. The rest of his face would be messed up and red if that were the case.

“You can let it out, Keigo.” You put a hand on his arm and rubbed comforting circles into his back, trying to ease him through it. “You don’t have to keep everything bottled up inside.”

He laughs bitterly at that, and you’re taken aback. “Yeah, actually, I do. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Alright. Then we can just rest, and have some tea, maybe put on some calming music. Does that sound good to you?”

He nods, he can’t look up at you though. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“No problem, Keigo. Be right back.”

When you do come back, he’s just laying there, staring blankly in front of him. He looks lost and confused.

“Have you ever felt like this,” he asks in a soft voice. A surge of anger hits you, after all this time he still hasn’t noticed. But you push it down and clear your throat instead.

“Yeah. I’ve felt like that a lot in my life.”

“I’m sorry.” He states simply. “It’s awful.”

“Yeah,” you agree.

The rest of the night the two of you sit quietly, sipping tea and listening to music. At some point the two of you end up sleeping on one another.

The weeks pass, and Keigo starts to recover, as that starts to happen, the two of you start to slip back into your previous relationship. You know it’s a mistake, but you don’t stop it. You almost encourage it, because it feels good. It feels like he actually wants you and you can believe it for a few moments before it comes crashing down around you. You know you’re a rebound, even if Keigo himself doesn’t realize that’s what he’s doing.

So, there he is again, using you as a way to fill his life up to make up for the something he can’t have. Coping with his issues by having someone he could distract himself with, that he trusted and knew cared about his wellbeing.

You wish you could say you hated it. But then you’d be a liar.

Because you would take any of the time that he was willing to give to you. You were in deep, and you knew that, just wished you would have a way that you could stop it, rather than just going along for the ride, and hoping that he didn’t completely destroy your heart.

Although that possibility seemed to be more and more likely these days.

One day, you realize that you can’t do this anymore.

One day, you think that you’re not going to allow yourself to do this to yourself or him anymore.

One day you decide that you have to take a full step back. No half done measures this time, the next time he called, you weren’t answering, and you weren’t listening. Maybe taking a complete break from the winged hero would somehow allow you to get over your feelings for him. Maybe the separation would do you some good, you could try and meet some new people, hang out with older friends.

You have a plan, a way to bring it up to him, to say that you can’t do the whole song and dance with him anymore, you can’t play around because it’s messing with your head. You plan on telling him that you just need some space to rest and recover, and that you’ll be fine in a little while.

It doesn’t happen that way.

You’re in his apartment and you’re both eating some takeout, you’ve been on edge the entire night, and of course Keigo notices. He tries to tell you a few happy stories he’s seen that day, tries to give you space to relax. He leans in to kiss you and you panic.

You jump up and say “I have to leave!” in a really panicked voice.

“Woah hey, what the fuck’s going on?” He stands up, walking after you.

“I just, I had a way to tell you- and I’m not ready and fuck I wish I didn’t have to say this but I just can’t do it!” You’re rambling, you know that, but you can’t seem to get your thoughts together, they’re bouncing around your head, refusing to slow down so you can’t catch them, and you’re sitting there panicking.

“You need to talk to me,” he shouts, breaking you out of your daze.

“I can’t do this anymore!” you cry out, all the bottled pain spilling up and gushing out. You can’t stop it, and you keep going. “I fell for you in week three, Keigo. WEEK THREE of our arrangement. And guess what! I still fucking love you, you absolute moron! You didn’t notice SHIT, and I didn’t say anything because I knew you didn’t feel the same way, but I knew you needed someone. And sometimes I fucking wish I didn’t, that I spoke up for myself and said something sooner because it’s brought me nothing but heartbreak after heartbreak, and so much insecurity!”

He looks at you shocked. “Wait… you, but?”

You laugh, a little hysterically, all the emotions bubbling over. There’s a strange sense of relief. It’s all out in the open now. “Fucking tell the press! I finally found the way to make the Hawks absolutely speechless!”

“Wait, hold up, you need to slow down. I’m trying to understand what’s going on, and you aren’t exactly making this easier.” His eyes are wide, you’ve never seen him so completely and utterly lost. That was the final straw for you, and you start sobbing, tears streaming down your face as you try to keep your wails of pain inside.

You put yourself together in silence, his sharp eyes trained on you, you can feel it. Your sobs and sniffles grow less and less frequent as you gain control.

“I need space Keigo. I need to have space so I can get over you properly, and I couldn’t do it before, I thought I could! I just need to sort everything out, please.” You’re pleading with him, your voice drained and emotionless. “Just, don’t contact me please. Let me” You walk away before he can even answer, leaving him dumbfounded.

He grabs your arm before you reach the door, a little rougher than he usually is. “You don’t get to say all these things without even giving me a chance to respond!” His usually calm exterior is flustered, a little unhinged with panic and anger.

“I can! I told you how I feel! Nothing you say will be able to change how I feel right now Keigo! Nothing!” you feel your heart ripping to shreds as you see, for the first time in your one on one time in months, the mask returning as he looks it over too.

“Got it.” He says short and clipped off. “Thanks for just cutting me off like everyone else did. Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

You go, quietly, unable to look him in the eye. The door slams behind you, with an ominous thud.

The first time you gather up the courage to call him again to apologize, he doesn’t pick up. You expected that. You were hoping for that because you weren’t sure if you had the strength to say it to him.

You tell him you’re sorry. You tell him you know you made mistakes, that you knew you didn’t communicate right and you should’ve trusted him with that. You tell him you miss him because you do. He’d wormed his way into the cracks in your heart that he’d had a part in making.

You tell him you want to have a place in his life, and that he still has a place in yours, but you’re not ready yet.

You don’t know if he got it until he calls you back. He leaves a message for you this time as you were in the shower when it rang.

He tells you he understands now, even though it hurt like hell. He says he’s going to give you space, but would still leave you messages every once in a while. He says that of course you’re going to have a place in his life. He says that you’re the only person in a long time that had even bothered to get to see what was underneath his persona. He says that when you’re ready, to either call him back, or answer one of his calls.

So that’s how it happens. On some good days and some bad days, Keigo calls you. You listen to every single one, multiple times. Your feelings don’t die down though. You don’t know what else you can do but wait. The sad messages tear at your heart, but you know you can’t be there for him right now properly.

One of them you can’t help but hear and think that you need to call him, need to reach out to him. He’d sounded desperate in a way you hadn’t heard from him before and it chilled you down to the bone.

But you don’t. You’re too scared of what you’ll do or say.

On one of the days where you can’t sleep, you sit and stare at your ceiling, thinking about nothing much. Idle thoughts about the project you were working on, what you had to stock up on the next time you went shopping, the puzzle that you’d gotten stuck on in the current level of your video game.

That’s when the ringing broke out on your bedside table. That ringtone. You still loved him, and he never called this late. You picked up the phone.

“It’s two am, I know that, but I need you Y/N…”

“Hawks? What’s going on. Are you ok?”

He laughs loudly, “Fuck, no. Can I come over?” He almost manages to hide the waver in his voice.

You sigh, putting a hand to your temple. “I’m sorry, but you can’t come to me anymore, you know that.” You say it softly.

“You picked up.”

“I did.”

“You still love me.”

“Goddamn it Keigo, yes! Is that what you really wanted to hear right now at two in the morning?”

His tone switches to serious. “No. That’s not it at all. Please. It’s important.”

“I could just hang up.”

“You won’t.”

You let out a stream of curses that would make a sailor blush.

“Fine.” You give in with a groan and the starting of a stress headache. “I’m leaving the door unlocked for 10 minutes. That’s all you have.”

“That’s way more than I need.” You hear the click of the receiver tone and you move your ass out of bed, going to go unlock the door. There you wait in your pjs, your arms crossed glaring at the door and daring it to open.

Before the 10 minutes is up, it defies you and clicks open, and in he comes.

“Hey.” He just looks at you, and he looks exhausted. “Thanks for listening.”

You resist the urge to just run up to him and take him into your arms. He’d feel so good to cuddle. Instead you say in a wary voice; “What do you want Keigo, it’s late and I’m tired.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I am too, but.” He swallows hard. “I needed to see you before. Before everything gets fucked up.”

“What the hell are you talking about? And close the door it’s cold outside.” He follows your instructions without complaint and quietly.

“You’re going to want to be sitting down for this,” he warns.

You can see he’s not playing around, so you heed him and sit on the couch, and he sits on the chair, dragging it over so he’s opposite you.

“First off. An explanation of what I mean.” You gesture at him to carry on. “Remember those villains I had to check up on? Well, they were actually mobilizing an attack on the Hero Commission HQ which is in the city.”

“No way, seriously?” you can’t believe that they would get that bold so soon. It was insane, and yet, you believed it.

“Well yeah. I came by to warn you, because there’s going to be so much chaos, and in that chaos, it’s more likely for you to either die or get hurt.” Your hands found their way to your hair, brushing through it nervously. “Hey, hey, listen Y/N” he goes to hold your shoulder’s and looks you in the eye. “The heroes have been preparing for a few months now, taking out some of the villains they can. Everyone’s going to have a much better chance of survival. But staying inside and not opening to door for anyone? That’s going to keep you safest. Understand?” You nod.

Something niggled at the back of your mind though. “You said first thing.”

“Yeah…”

“Well? Are you going to tell me?”

“You’re going to slap me.”

“Well that’s not a fucking good sign.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, I figured out why you’d shocked me so much with what you’d said. When we went our separate ways for a little while.”

You felt your stomach sink. This couldn’t be good, why did he have to bring that up now. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t trust my partner with anything that I’d shown you. You were the only person I’ve opened up too since… well a long time let’s put it like that. I haven’t really actually let myself feel things for a while, so I misunderstood them. I thought they were hot; I liked the look and the way they talked. I wasn’t falling love with them. I was in love with you the whole time and I didn’t realize it.” You felt like your heart stopped beating.

“Keigo?”

“Yes?”

“You didn’t think to actually say that in one of your fucking messages?”

“I didn’t think you were ready to hear it.”

“I mean maybe not, but it would’ve saved a lot of headache!”

“I’m sorry.” He says, “I’m learning, but I’m trying my best if you’ll take me?”

“Of course, I will you stupid bird. It’s going to take work, but I know where I went wrong.”

“Me too. I believe in us. Heh, us. I like the sound of that.” He has a goofy smile on his face.

“Oh my god you’re such a dork.” You lean up to press a light kiss on his lips, which he eagerly responds too. “You look exhausted though. Let’s get you into bed, so you can protect the city hero.”

“Sounds amazing to me.” He follows you into the room, stripping down and snuggling you.

“I’m likely going to be gone by the time you wake up, y’know?”

You sigh. “You better not die on me or I’ll kill you.”

“For you? I’ll stay as safe as possible.”

“Good.”

The next day, everything was in chaos, just like Keigo had said it would be. You didn’t even need to leave your house to know that. You saw it on your phone screen as you stayed hidden in your closet, to terrified to move or do anything else. A couple buildings had fallen near you, but luckily your building had stayed safe.

You don’t remember much else about that day. Fear. Praying that the people you cared about would be safe. Darkness. The sounds of massive explosions and destruction.

Terrible.

There were massive body counts of all different people, with varying quirks, lives, beliefs and goals. The damage was catastrophic. You almost couldn’t believe that it had been better than what would’ve happened if there wasn’t early intel and missions.

You noticed though, that everyone was treated the same in death. Hero, civilian, villain, vigilante, all of them were buried properly, paid for by the Commission themselves. Some of the villains had escaped, there were lots more dead hero students than people wanted to admit, and everyone was more beaten down and broken than before.

But…

Nobody had seen or heard anything about Hawks though. It was as if he’d simply vanished into thin air, and the only thing that kept you sane? They hadn’t found his body.

What about that cremation guy? The traitorous voice in your head spoke out. You told it to fuck off.

Hawks, Keigo, was not dead. He couldn’t be. You’d finally reached an understanding!

You refused to allow the possibility in your mind.

It was a week later when you finally got some news. There was a call from the hospital, and you immediately, you picked up.

“Is this Y/N Y/LN?”

“Yes,” you practically shout. “Yes, I am.” You say a bit softer.

“I’m calling about a Keigo Takami? Do you know this man?”

“Yes, yes, I do, please is he alive?” you can’t keep the desperation from your voice.

There’s a pause. “…Yes. He is alive. They’re trying to test to see what the extent of the damage is. You were the only other person other than his mother to be on his emergency contact list, yet you have no relation to him, were you aware of this?”

“Yes,” the lie comes easily, despite the surprise bubbling up.

He gives you the address and you promise to be there as soon as you can. You can deal with this, you think, he’s alive and so the two of you can work on it and fix it together like you’d planned.

Except you couldn’t.

Little to no brain function, they said. Halfway done the process to become a host body for a new nomu, they said. How were you supposed to fix everything together if Keigo was right there, but also completely gone?

You collapsed into the chair beside his bed, looking over at him. The man you’d loved for over half a year. The doctors went silent, all of them leaving except for one, who stood silently. You reached out and held his hand in yours. Still softer and smoother than what a pro hero’s hand should be like. Still warm, like the first time you’d held it. You could even feel his pulse.

It was almost funny; you were finished before the two of you even got started. You couldn’t even say that the two of you had ever truly been together, but that’s what made it hurt more, you think. Nobody would believe you, a random nobody? Dating the number two pro hero? Yeah what an attention whore.

You sat there, tears building in your eyes, and spilling out

“Keigo, please just give me one more message?” you whisper, crying harder now. “I’ll be waiting for it, so you better call me when you’re ready, because I’ll be waiting for you.”

#bnha x reader #hawks x reader #jays writes #angst #sfw

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secretshinigami · 3 years

Text

Late Night Show

Title: Late Night Show Author: @complicatedmerary For: @fogspecs Pairings/Characters: Misa/Takada tease, Kiyomi Takada, Misa Amane, Hitoshi Demegawa (cameo), Light Yagami (mentioned only) Rating/Warnings: Teen and Up, alcohol mention, Demegawa being a gross boss, tabloid gossip nonsense, mean girl behavior, mild language, mild violence Prompt: Misa and Takada have romantic tension between them. Author’s notes: Misa and Takada, you say? Don’t mind if I do! As I was drafting ideas for the offered prompts, it occurred to me that the only time Misa and Takada met in canon was when Misa had no memories of being Kira. If we are being honest, that was a missed opportunity. Then, I thought, what if Misa has her memories intact, but Takada is not Kira’s spokeswoman? How will their dynamic change? Hope you enjoy!

______________________________________

“I’m telling you, Miss Takada, with your great assets and even greater personality, you will have my audience eating at the palm of our hands. My show has been craving a female perspective on scandalous gossip, you have no idea how much hate mail I receive for being unfair to these airheaded celebrities. If we get this right, no one will ever accuse me of having no substance, we are respectable journalists, dammit!”

Kiyomi Takada had barely started her first day of work and she already regretted every second of it. Truth be told, it was not a regular job, it was a weird hybrid of an internship that she had to fight to be eligible for credit and an arduous job that guaranteed humiliating tasks and low pay. The real reward is experience, she kept telling herself over and over as she reluctantly took this opportunity after being rejected by reputable news network stations. She had the nagging suspicion that Hitoshi Demegawa only chose her based on her looks rather than her impeccable academic record, but at this point it was too late to challenge this. No, she had to swallow her pride if she wanted to prove herself to be worthy of broadcasting intellectual journalism in the next few years.

“Hey, hey, what’s with the gloomy face?” Demegawa snapped his fingers close to Takada’s nose, startling her. “Celebrity gossip is supposed to be fun! Well, unless I report the usual actor breakdown, but that’s just show business, no one is truly getting hurt anyway.” He chuckled, holding himself by his belly.

Takada barely flinched.

“Come on, I’m just joking, don’t be so serious. We have something juicy coming up in thirty minutes and I need you to familiarize yourself with the news that has happened this morning.” Demegawa stopped speaking, gave Takada a nefarious grin, then patted her cheek as if she were a kid. “How about smiling for once? You will fit right in when people don’t see you as an ice queen.” He turned to the side and snapped his fingers repeatedly. “Everyone should be getting their makeup done, don’t you dare step out if your face is a mess!”

She took note of scrubbing her cheek raw until there was no trace of his dirty hand.

~~~

Takada looked over her script as her makeup artist fluffed some blush across her cheekbones. She wasn’t the type to focus on such frivolous things, but if she had to play the role of the tabloid host darling, she will gladly do so to keep Demegawa satisfied. Her credit and career depended on it.

She flipped the page with a lack of interest; Hideki Ryuga was out of the country for the third time this month? It wouldn’t surprise her if he ended up caught in a money laundering scheme, he seemed to be just that dumb. Next up, was A-list actress, Suki Aragaki, marrying his longtime beau, movie director, Kenji Ozu, after enduring a nasty love triangle that ended Ozu’s decade-long marriage. Congratulations, I guess, Kiyomi snorted, rolling her eyes at the absurdity.

She continued flipping until a familiar name made her stop on her tracks. Misa Amane. Without realizing it, her knuckles turned white as she gripped the script, and her jaw clenched painfully.

“Are you alright, Miss Takada?” The makeup artist placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course,” Takada let out a deep breath as her anger simmered down. “I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

The makeup artist nodded. “I understand. Don’t let Demegawa intimidate you, he is quite sweet once you get to know him.”

That was doubtful, but she was not about to argue, her attention was somewhere else. Misa Amane. The same silly model who appeared on campus and snatched Light Yagami away from her. To make matters worse, Amane randomly texted her out of nowhere months ago to let her and all of Light’s “other girls” know (which came as a disturbing revelation to her) that Light asked her to move in together and to back off. Why did Light love such an insecure, clingy woman? What could they possibly have in common besides good looks? And her classmates dared to call her superficial, how laughable.

As she kept reading the script, the gloom evaporated like a burst bubble. Misa Amane has been caught buying a pregnancy test despite declaring over the weekend at the premiere of her latest movie that she and her private boyfriend were waiting till marriage. Are we expecting wedding bells for the lovely couple, or did they marry in secret already to avoid the ire of her rabid fanboys? Unless there is something more sinister going on and her boyfriend is not the father of that baby. Perhaps that’s why Hideki Ryuga is out of the country, he is running away from his duty as a father! Those two have been fighting the persistent rumors of romance on set and that might settle it once and for all. Whoever the baby’s father is, congratulations to Misa Amane and her bundle of joy. We can’t wait to have more single mothers in the entertainment industry, such an underrepresented group in our society!

Takada tried to stifle her giggles between her fingers, but her amusement couldn’t be contained. For once Demegawa’s brutal commentary came in handy, there was no way Misa Amane could recover from this scandal. If there was anything juicier than an affair, it was a pregnancy resulting from the affair!

Oh, tonight’s show was going to be so much fun.

~~~

“It just does not make any sense, Miss Takada,” Teppei, her co-host, shook his head. “How can this movie be such a critical success when every review I have seen declared it the worst movie of the year even though we are halfway there? Who is bribing the industry to keep promoting it on television when no one wanted this movie to be made in the first place? It is a conspiracy; I am so sure of it.”

Takada pretended to act interested in the topic and simply smiled widely. She barely met Teppei today and she finally had the confirmation that she was dreading: He was a certified spoiled brat who assumed himself to be the greatest thing that has ever happened to comedy. The son of a politician, he got far enough to step into movies and television because his father left him a bottomless pit of money. He wasn’t good looking, so he relied on his short stature and misogynistic jokes to compensate for the lack of attention he never received in the spotlight. It worked perfectly enough to be perceived as harmless and now he got to hang out with late night show comedians and tour around the country. Takada wondered for how long mediocrity was going to be standard. If he were someone else, Demegawa would have no doubt chewed him out, but money and publicity ruled in his greedy heart.

“The real conspiracy is,” Takada pointed at the screen, a photo of Hideki Ryuga and Misa Amane on set, holding hands. “What is up with these two? They keep stating over and over that there is no romance, but I have yet to see her publicly with her supposed boyfriend. What exactly is she hiding?” The next slide showed a paparazzi shot of Misa Amane allegedly going to the pharmacy for a pregnancy test.

The audience gasped loudly, as expected, thanks to the teleprompter.

“Woah,” Teppei spun around dramatically. “Didn’t she say she was waiting till marriage?”

“It makes you wonder why Hideki Ryuga is out of the country for the third time this week,” Takada gasped. “What are the odds that he found out about her pregnancy and is panicking about the possibility of being a father?”

“If that’s not the case, then she married her boyfriend in secret to keep up with her indiscretion and avoid the ire of her fans.” Teppei covered his mouth and giggled like a schoolboy. “Sucks for him because if they were supposed to be celibate, then that’s Ryuga’s baby! Man, things are not going well for Misa Amane!”

“Congratulations to Misa Amane and her bundle of joy,” Takada recited the script with unnecessary enthusiasm. “We can’t wait to have more single mothers in the entertainment industry, such an underrepresented group in our society!”

The phone rang on the set, which meant that a fan of the show had the opportunity to give their perspective on the topic. This was Demegawa’s idea to encourage “respectful dialogue” on live television, but Takada knew better: It was to enforce the trashiness of the show with inflammatory controversy, and there was no doubt one of Misa’s fanboys was calling to defend her “honor and dignity.”

Yeah, you cannot defend something that never existed, Takada thought bitterly.

“Looks like we struck a nerve,” She hummed and picked up the phone, setting it to onset speaker. “Yes, how can we help you?”

“YOU DISGUSTING, UGLY BITCH!” A shrill voice echoed around the studio, creating some feedback on the boom microphones. “I ought to sue every single of you for defamation of character! I would never cheat on my boyfriend, especially not with Hideki Ryuga! You are all sick in the head for lying this bad!”

Takada couldn’t help the grin that was plastered on her face … No one could mistake that voice to someone else. So, Misa Amane was the type of celebrity who watched gossip shows to hear if she was relevant? This was just too hilarious and unsurprising for her.

“Sorry, Miss Amane, we are just reporting the news,” she said coolly. “We are not fond of frivolous lawsuits, so I ask you to respect the press.”

“YOU ARE NOT REPORTING ‘NEWS’, YOU ARE SPREADING GARBAGE!” There was a brief silence on the other line, and then the sound of chugging down a liquid echoed on the speaker. “You are just jealous that I’m in a committed relationship and you are stuck with your misery,” Misa’s words were slurred. “How about spreading some good news? Whatever happened to being kind?”

“With all due respect, Miss Amane,” Teppei had a smug grin on his face. “You are in the entertainment industry; we don’t owe you kindness. If you can’t handle criticism, maybe being a celebrity is not the job for you.”

Takada covered her mouth, hiding the twitch on her lips that she couldn’t contain any longer. Was this truly the end for Misa Amane? No one seemed to be on Misa’s side, and she was humiliating herself on live television. Things were finally looking up for her.

“Oh, shut up, Teppei, no one likes you, you are only relevant because of your daddy,” Misa shot back. “And as for you, Kiyomi Takada, my boyfriend will never be with you, he prefers me, he said so himself, so knock it off.”

The bombshell caused a murmur amongst the audience and Takada stiffened on the spot. No, she was not going to let Misa Amane win this fight, not now, not ever.

“Wow, Miss Amane, are you having a mental breakdown?” She chuckled. “Jealousy is not part of a healthy relationship, it’s not good that you are projecting your insecurities on me. We don’t even know each other.”

“That’s it! I’m going down to Sakura TV, find you, and kick your butt! You’ll be sorry for messing with me—”

“Like that’s ever going to happen.” And with that, she slammed the phone and there was nothing but the dial and laughter from the audience.

She wondered if she ruined her chances of ever being taken seriously, but one glance at Demegawa’s blissful face told her everything she needed to know: This episode was one for the books.

~~~

It was close to midnight when the show finally ended, and Takada stayed overtime to talk to Demegawa about the possibility of hosting the show by herself. He said he would think about it, but he couldn’t guarantee anything despite the reception. That was good enough for her. For now.

As she approached the parking lot, she heard footsteps to her left, but there were so light that for a second, she thought she imagined it in her head. She was tired and it had been a long and overexciting night, she couldn’t wait to go home and sleep on her bed.

“There you are!”

Takada turned around and she couldn’t believe what she saw: Staring at her with malice was Misa Amane, standing up straight with her legs apart, and clenched fists.

“I told you I was going to find you and kick your butt! Now, don’t you dare move!” Misa sprinted forward with so much velocity on her direction, her gaze still focused.

Takada panicked for a few moments, darting her head back and forth, looking for a way out. Instinctively, she raised her arms across her face to defend it and swung her leg on any direction her adrenaline asked her to do, her eyes closed.

It all happened so fast: As Misa aimed to kick Takada on the shin, she tripped on Takada’s swinging foot, and she landed on the concrete, stomach down.

Takada opened her eyes when she heard the agonizing whines below her and gasped at the sight of Misa laying flatly in the middle of the parking lot. Oh, God, I didn’t hurt her that bad, did I?

“Are you alright?” She felt pathetic; of course, she was not alright, she just tripped her with her foot, what a terrible question!

“Here, let me help you—”

“Don’t touch me!” Misa shrugged her off as she managed to stand on her own. Well, just barely, she couldn’t maintain her balance as she tried to step away towards the street.

Despite hating that woman with a burning intensity, she was not going to let Misa walk by herself with injuries all over her, especially in such a shady area. No, if she drove away and Misa ended up missing (or worse, dead) because she was alone, she could no longer call herself a virtuous person.

“You are not going anywhere. Come on, I need to take you home.” Takada dragged Misa roughly by the arm towards her car.

“Let me go!” Misa tried to resist her, but her balance betrayed her. “I’m not going to tell you where I live, you are going to stalk Light if you know!”

God, would she stop being so freaking loud?

“Either you tell me where you live, or you have no choice but to spend the night in this parking lot,” She pushed Misa inside the car and dropped her legs on the passenger seat. She then held her arms as she put the seatbelt over her body.

“I don’t have time for this, you are a grown woman, act like it—” She caught a whiff of cheap wine on Misa’s breath. “Ugh, so you are drunk. That’s it, I’m going to drive all around the city until you tell me where I should drop you. I’m not stopping until you get over yourself.”

~~~

The drive did go longer than expected; it was one in the morning and Misa refused to speak one word to her. Two could play the game, Takada did not say one word either. The only sound filling out the silence was the pop radio station playing the same song for the third time. At this point, she wondered if she will ever get peace for at least trying to help another woman out.

“I did mean what I said on the phone,” Misa murmured quietly. “Light does not want you, he never did.”

Why was she bringing that up now? Why did it matter after she ignored her this time entire time?

“I don’t care,” Takada rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to do this, you have him, why isn’t that enough for you?”

“It’s easy for you to say,” Misa snorted. “He dumps you and you act like it never happened. If Light were to dump me, I don’t think I would want to continue living.”

Good lord, this woman is insane.

“You want to know what the worst part is?” Tears suddenly rolled down her eyes. “The reason why I don’t want you to drop me to my apartment is because you will not find him there. He has been acting so weird since—” She shook her head. “No, he is a man, this is a man thing. It’s normal for your boyfriend to not spend every night together, right?”

Takada really wanted to say, no, it was not normal, but she didn’t know what she could possibly say that could make this situation better. She didn’t ask for this personal information, this was none of her business. And yet, why did she want to hear more about Light’s inability to keep his own girlfriend happy? What the hell was wrong with him?

“I’m not pregnant, you know,” Misa whispered, and Takada’s glanced at her, confused. “We have tried—Well, I tried my best to let that happen. I’ve been so hopeful that maybe if we have a baby together, we will be bonded for life. That, maybe, just maybe, he would look at me differently. Yes, I did buy that pregnancy test, and yes, the photos are real, but I’m not pregnant. Are you happy now? You got your little revenge by making fun of me, now I’m asking the media to do the same.”

It was hard to swallow, her throat was so dry. She couldn’t believe this, but she felt guilt. Guilt for even entertaining the idea of messing up someone’s life in such a public manner. Guilt for doing that in the first place for the sake of ratings!

Sorry was not going to be enough, she wasn’t even sure what was she apologizing for. Sorry I tripped you with my foot? Sorry I bullied you so badly that you had to get drunk to deal with the pain on live television? Sorry Light Yagami is not a perfect man? She felt nothing, anything that she could possibly say was going to be in vain if she didn’t mean it.

She suddenly stopped her car and parked on the side of the road. She turned off the radio and breathed out slowly, attempting to calm herself. Screw this, she had to do the right for once.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea that you are left drunk in your apartment.”

“What?” Misa’s eyes widened.

“If Light is not there to keep an eye on you, then—”

“What are you trying to say?” Misa was instantly furious. “I can take care of myself, I’m not a child. When Light comes back in the morning, he won’t even notice I was drunk, it’s like it never happened, we are back to being a normal couple. If you are suggesting that I would do something drastic … I’m not stupid! What do you take me for?”

“Please listen to me,” Takada pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed in and out slowly again. “I’m not saying you are stupid; I’m just trying to say that you are not in control of your emotions, and I don’t trust you to be by yourself for now.”

“I am in control of my emotions.”

“You literally cried to me that Light is not spending every night with you.”

Misa kept her mouth shut.

“All I’m saying is that I need to keep an eye you.” She regretted the words once they left her lips. Was it the guilt talking? Was she considering taking care of Misa until she got over her drunkenness? What the hell was going on here?

“I know what to do now,” She restarted the engine and shifted to drive.

“Where are we going?” Misa asked with suspicion.

“I’m taking you to my apartment and give you the chance to rest there.”

“YAY!” Misa hugged her suddenly and kissed her cheek, almost causing Takada to let go of the steering wheel. “We are going to have a girls’ night, we could stay up all night, tell each other stories—”

“Not happening,” She cut her off, but she smiled despite herself.

Misa giggled. “You know, your numbers just switched, it’s like they moved up.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing that you should ever worry about.” She said in a sing-song voice.

Takada rolled her eyes. It was going to be a longer night than anticipated.

#fanfiction #death note #submission #misa amane #kiyomi takada #hitoshi demegawa #complicatedmerary #fogspecs #Near's Bday Finale 2k21 #ratings: teen

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a-sirens-melody · 4 years

Text

i can’t believe it’s true, i get to love you

It’s finally here!! I’m so excited to share my first drakepad fic. Get ready for 5k words of absolute sap kjskhdg (I’ll reblog with the link to my ao3)

This is part of a series I’m developing too, Let’s Get Engaged! so there will be more of this au.

Enjoy!

***

“Uh, DW? Why are we parked across the street from Mr. McDee’s movie studio?” He heard Launchpad ask behind him. “I don't think W.A.N.D.A said there was any crime here.”

“I, um.” His hands were shaking. “I have something I want to show you.” He double checked the brakes of the Ratcatcher; he didn't need to crash his only ride into the wall as the Thunderquack was already in need of repairs. That sounded like something that would happen to Drake Mallard, not Darkwing Duck. He needed to be Darkwing Duck for just a little longer.

Patrol had been busy tonight, to the surprise of both partners. They'd had to foil seven house break ins, five robberies downtown (three of which had been at the mall), and even got dragged into breaking up a bar fight on the other side of St. Canard. That last one was an unexpected surprise, but at least the stench of alcohol and yelling about… sports? Mothers? Darkwing had no clue what it was even about. He wasn’t sure what higher power he had pleased, but he was grateful for the distraction from the precious cargo he had safely tucked away in his jacket pocket.

He had been planning this for one month, two weeks, and three days. Not that he's been counting or anything. The big moment was almost here, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Because tonight, Drake was going to propose to Launchpad.

They had talked about this before. Actually, Launchpad was the one to bring up marriage. A year ago, two years into their relationship, the pilot had very bluntly asked him, “so what do you think about marriage?” In that moment, Drake thought that all his head injuries acquired from three years of crime fighting had caught up to him and his brain was truly not working.

After recovering from his mini heart attack, the two discussed and came to the conclusion that both of them really liked the idea of becoming husbands. Loved it, actually. But neither was ready to handle all the planning and stress of a wedding yet. Hell, Launchpad had only been living with Drake and Gosalyn for a couple of months.

Still, that didn't stop Drake from imagining the scenario at least once a month. Launchpad kneeling down with a ring in a pretty box and scooping up Drake to kiss him. Drake getting on one knee instead and offering a golden or silver ring (he hadn't been sure, at first, what color would suit his beloved best) after an incredibly sappy speech.

What was that he said before about planning for a month? Scratch that out. He'd been dreaming of the moment for a year, but started considering for real three months ago. He asked Launchpad again for his opinion on the matter, just to check that they were still on the same page, and almost died on the spot when his answer was now a confident “yes.” If they lived in a cartoon, Drake surely would have floated off the ground surrounded by tiny pink hearts.

He thought about any and all locations that marked a special milestone in their relationship. The movie studio where they first met, the tower where they constantly met on hero business, the McDuck Enterprises building where they found their first supervillains together and met his future daughter. In the end, the former won because it felt like that was the true start of them. Because of their meeting there, the events of the past three years occurred. That point in time marked the beginning of many changes in Drake's life.

He hadn't spent one month, two weeks, and three days scrambling for a location. That sounded utterly unromantic and incredibly unprepared. No, that was the amount of time he had spent finding the courage to actually ask.

Now the moment had finally arrived. And he was not backing down.

After making sure the motorcycle was properly parked, he hopped out and strode to Launchpad, offering a hand. His boyfriend still looked confused but smiled at the gesture and took it, getting out of the seat. “Such a gentleman.”

“I try.” Darkwing flashed a grin back. Thankfully, his hands had stopped shaking and his voice betrayed none of the frayed nerves within the valiant vigilante.

They continued to hold hands as they crossed the street. Once on the sidewalk, they looked up at the building. It had been closed for the night already, the lights dimmed and the only soul seen was a lone security guard on patrol.

“Man.” Darkwing was drawn out of his daydreams and looked over to Launchpad. “It's been a long time since I've seen this place. Brings back memories, huh?”

Darkwing hummed in agreement. For a while after the failure of Darkwing: First Darkness, the only memories he had of this place were bitter. It was here that his big break as an actor had literally gone up in flames before his very eyes. It was here that his idol Jim Starling, a man he had looked up to the moment he laid eyes on the first episode of Darkwing Duck, had tried to kill him only to be buried in the remains of the set in a sick sense of karma.

But after spending more time with Launchpad, he had grown to see it as a landmark of new beginnings in his life. He hadn't met the pilot here, but they really began to bond when Launchpad broke into his trailer. After trying not to damage several previous pieces of merch, they quit fighting each other and started playing with Drake’s action figures, of all things. As odd as the circumstances were, it was nice. Somewhere along the way, he told the other duck about what he personally called his origin story (yes, he knew it was nerdy, but it felt right and no one was going to make him stop).

And Launchpad didn't make fun of him or call him ridiculous for keeping a beat up lunchbox after all those years. No, he nodded his head and looked on in… admiration. Then he yelled out something about getting Jim to stop fighting Drake and talk together about how they could both fix the movie and. Well. They both knew how that went.

Demise of Darkwing aside, it was the first time in Drake’s life that he had felt completely understood. He didn't have to hide his love of Darkwing for fear of rejection, instead he was encouraged to geek out as much as he wished.

And when the rain machine stopped and the ashes of set pieces and the dream of a starry-eyed boy were all that remained, when Drake thought all hope was lost, what did Launchpad do? He told him to get back up. He convinced Drake that he could become Darkwing Duck for real. He even let Drake autograph his poster, an action which he'd dreamed of doing the moment he started acting.

Three years of what he would call his best (and first) romantic relationship, one alien invasion, one spirited little girl, and another found family full of feisty adventurers later, Drake wouldn't change the events of his life for anything. He’s tried so many times to tell Launchpad how much he appreciates him and the warmth and the love he’s brought, but it always feels like words are never enough. That doesn't mean he won't stop trying, though, as he said, “I knew coming here would change my life all those years ago. I'm so glad I was wrong.”

He snuck a peek at Launchpad and was pleasantly surprised to see his boyfriend blushing. “Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Never thought the worst movie I'd ever seen could open the doors to the best years of my life.”

Darkwing choked and looked away again, cheek feathers turning pink. “I-I, uh. Yeah. Me too.” He squeezed his boyfriend's hand as he tried to regain his composure. When he succeeded, he began again the speech he had spent hours practicing and pacing in his room over. “I thought all I needed to make my life complete was a starring role in a big movie. That I could inspire other kids like me as a solo hero.”

He faced Launchpad again, softly smiling. “But you. You crashed into my life,” he raised his hands here at Launchpad’s smirk, “pun not intended. You showed me that I could have a good family, I could surround myself with people that really loved me for who I was. Adopting Gosalyn, meeting the Ducks- I never would've done that if you hadn't pushed me to. Hell, I wouldn't even be Darkwing Duck without you.” He stepped closer and cupped the pilot’s cheek. “And, of course, you will always have a special place in my heart.”

Launchpad’s eyes widened and there was a faint hitch in his breath. “Drake, what are you saying?”

“Launchpad, I-” Just as he was about to reach in his pocket for the ring, Drake stopped.

He still had the mask on. He was still Darkwing Duck.

No, no, he couldn't propose like this. Sure, Launchpad knew Darkwing Duck and Drake Mallard were one and the same and that it was still his boyfriend under the mask and ego but- but it was the principle of the thing, okay!?

He wanted to ask the love of his life to marry him in honesty and vulnerability. And to do that, he had to be Drake Mallard. He had to find somewhere more private.

“Wait.” Darkwing grabbed Launchpad's hand and began to run to the nearest alleyway. “I need to do this with no risk of being spotted.”

“Um. What are you doing now?” His partner asked as he shoved themselves into the dark, quiet alley between what looked like a jewelry store and a hair salon. Launchpad looked confused and- wait, were those tears?

Shit, shit, shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen! That wasn't part of the plan! “Honey! No no no, don't cry, I just wanted-” Scolding himself, he tore off his hat and mask. There. Now Drake Mallard could take out his ring and propose and hopefully calm his partner down. “I wanted to ask if-”

He reached his hand into his pocket and froze.

There was nothing there.

Frantically, he searched his other pocket and checked both of them again. His heart sank as he came up empty handed, and he remembered where the ring was.

He hid the box in one of the boxes of smoke bombs earlier that day. In his panic to get out onto the streets and running through his plan and his words ninety nine times, he must've forgotten to take it with him.

Which meant that his fool-proof proposal plan was no longer fool-proof.

“Dammit!” Drake hissed, angry tears forming. He could've kicked the wall, but he didn't want to scare LP. He tried to ignore the hot shame simmering inside him as he covered his face with his hand. “God, I'm sorry, sunshine, I left something-”

“Drake?” Launchpad's voice was hushed and gentle, the complete opposite of Drake's current mental state.

Drake shushed the voices in his head and looked up.

Launchpad was giving him a soft, knowing smile and his eyes were still watery but he didn't look sad. Actually, he looked thrilled. “Are you... asking me to marry you?”

Even if his original plans were ruined, Drake was still going to see this through. So he took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, met his boyfriend's gaze, and said, “yeah. Yeah, I am. At least, I tried to.” He pinched his fingers in between his eyes and huffed a sigh. “Would've helped if I hadn't forgotten the ring. You deserve a romantic proposal, and I somehow failed at the bare minimum.” He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up.

“Hey. You didn't fail at the bare minimum.” Launchpad was standing closer now, determination in his gaze. “You took me to the place that marks the beginning of our friendship and gave a really sweet speech about how I've made your life better. The fact that you don't have a ring to give me doesn't make that any less meaningful.”

“God.” Drake shuddered, relief flooding his body. He'd been so caught up in his setback that his actions earlier had completely slipped his mind. Launchpad was right. The ring wasn't the most important part; the proposal itself was. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, overwhelmed with emotion. “I love you so much.”

Launchpad pressed his beak to the top of his head in a kiss, and Drake soon felt a familiar pair of warm arms snake around him. “I love you too, babe.”

For a few minutes, neither spoke and simply basked in the presence of their lover. Drake found himself processing the past few minutes more and discovered another realization.

He hadn't gotten a clear answer yet.

He was strongly tempted to bury his head further into Launchpad's chest, but he had another important question. Plus, if he had to ask more than once, he would run the risk of dying on the spot from sheer suspense. “Um, so. I didn't screw up my proposal to you.” Launchpad gave a comforting hum as Drake lifted his face to make eye contact once again. “And it made you happy, but. You didn't really answer my question. So. Launchpad, will you marry me?”

His smile was brighter than the sun. “Yes!” His hands drifted up to Drake's side and picked him up. His fiancé- fiancé, oh god, it's real now, not just a dream- threw him three inches into the air, laughing. Drake smiled and joined in, then cupped his hands around Launchpad's face and pulled him into a kiss once he was safe again in his arms.

Drake heard Launchpad sigh and felt his partner tighten his arms around his waist. Drake opened his beak, deepening the kiss. Launchpad made a pleased hum before doing the same, and Drake's mind went pleasantly blank.

It felt like hours had passed by the time Launchpad pulled away. Drake bit back a whine and lowered his hands to wrap around his fiancé’s neck.

“Okay, as much as I want to keep kissing you, we should probably go back to the tower. I don't think either of us is gonna be able to focus on patrol anyways.” Launchpad flashed a small smirk, but his eyes were still sparkling. “Also, you need to put your mask back on. It would be really unromantic if someone found your secret identity out,” he added, as fleeting as an afterthought.

Drake let out a small laugh. “You're right, that would totally kill the mood. Could you let me down, please?” He was gently lowered to the ground at that and took Launchpad's hand again. “Oh! Also!” He had gotten carried away in the moment, but there was another good reason to go back to the tower. “Your ring is there.”

“Did you hide it and then forget to get it back out when you were getting ready to go on patrol?” Launchpad guessed.

“Yup.” They started walking back to the Ratcatcher, swinging their clasped hands back and forth. Drake felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of his shoulders. He did it! And Launchpad said yes! Even if it wasn't exactly perfect, he would remember tonight as one of the best nights of his life.

His fiancé suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Wait. I forgot to tell you something.”

Drake turned to face him. Something about that statement made him wary. “What?”

His figurative feathers were smoothed over when Launchpad smiled again. “You're not the only one who was planning to propose.”

Drake's entire face went red, and as he could faintly hear the other duck say, “I'll show you when we get back”, amidst his stuttering.

“You're gonna be the death of me someday, LP, did you know that?” Drake sighed when he had stopped bi panicking. He scrubbed his face with his hand and walked over to the motorcycle, hopping on.

“Better me than a supervillain.” He heard Launchpad walk over and get on behind him, felt strong arms wrap around him in anticipation. “Besides, you love me,” was whispered in his ear.

“Okay, we're going now,” Drake choked out. He was definitely blushing again. He turned on the motorcycle and pulled out onto the road.

With that, they sped off into the night.

***

Once he parked the Ratcatcher, Drake practically scrambled off and sprinted to the pile of boxes in the far right corner labeled Smoke Bombs! Do NOT Touch!! Launchpad was right behind him, chuckling under his breath.

“Which one, which one…” He muttered under his breath, looking for the one with the marker he had put on it. A minute later, he found a box with a large black X on its side. “Ah ha!”

He stuck his hand in the box…

And immediately set off a few smoke bombs.

“Okay, note to self,” Drake said, coughing, “don’t hide your engagement ring with little delicate spheres full of smoke.” He waved one hand around to clear the air and used the other to very gently pry the ring box out.

“Tada!” He opened it to show Launchpad the dark purple ring he had chosen. “Your ring.”

“No way!”

“Um. What?” Okay, definitely not the reaction he was expecting. He tried not to let his nerves get the best of him again. “Is it the wrong shade? Or would you rather have a normal ring?”

“Huh? Oh, no! It’s beautiful!” Launchpad rushed to reassure him. “I just think it’s kinda funny.”

What? How was this funny? “Launchpad, you’re not making any sense.”

“Here, I’ll show you!” Launchpad pulled a similar back velvet box out of the pocket on his left sleeve. He flipped it open to reveal a ring small enough to fit Drake’s ring finger.

A ring that was the exact same purple as Launchpad’s.

“We got the same ring!” They exclaimed at the same time, meeting each other’s gaze and giggling.

“Oh my god. What kind of soulmate magic is this?” Drake couldn’t believe it. This felt like the sort of thing that only happened in fairy tales or really cheesy rom coms. “Hold on a second. Is this what you were doing that one time you said you were picking up lunch?”

“Yeah.” Launchpad said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure how to explain a trip to the jewelry store without giving it away. Plus, it was a pretty spur of the moment thing. You know how bad I am at lying.”

Drake chuckled. “You said you were on your way to Hamburger Hippo at ten am. I was definitely confused. Why purple, though?”

“Gold and silver didn’t feel like they fit you, and I wanted a ring that would represent something special to both of us. So, the first thing that came to mind was Darkwing Duck! ‘Cause you love it as much as I do, maybe even more, and it’s what we bonded over first and you’re Darkwing Duck, so. It felt right.”

Drake could relate to that. As fun as ring shopping had been, it hadn't started out as the easiest task on his list. Launchpad didn't strike Drake as much of a jewelry person. He had never seen Launchpad wear any jewelry casually, and the fanciest thing his work uniform required was a tie. Even on the few occasions his partner wore a suit, the cufflinks had been provided.

There was a slight blush on his fiancé's cheeks and his hands flapped as he rambled, and Drake felt positively smitten. Again, what kind of soulmate magic was this? It had to be magic; what other explanation could there possibly be for the way they seemed to think as one? “That’s so sweet of you, LP. Actually, I got your ring for the exact same reason. Except for you being Darkwing, ‘cause. You know. You’re my partner.”

“And you’re my Darkwing.” Launchpad whispered, gazing with the softest eyes and his words pulled Drake under a tidal wave of emotions. His Darkwing, his Darkwing, his Darkwing-

“You sap.” Just as he thought he was done crying. He wiped away tears. His face hurt from smiling so wide and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Launchpad grinned just as widely. “Neither can I. Before we go back home, though, can I ask you one more thing? Two, actually.”

Drake took a deep breath and nodded, fanning his face.

“I know you asked me first, but I really wanted to ask you and I’ve got my ring so-” Launchpad was bouncing up and down on his tiptoes, running his hands over the zipper of his jacket. He looked like a puppy, all frantic energy and big hopeful eyes. “Can I ask too? Please?”

Drake laughed and nodded. “Of course, sunshine.”

“Yes!” With that, Launchpad cleared his throat and got down on one knee. “Drake, you’re so special to me. You’re the first partner I’ve had that really understood me. That loves my favorite show as much as I do, and knows what it’s like to build your personality around it. You’ve been there for me in the best and worst times, and you’ve given me the best adventure I could’ve asked for: living my childhood dream with someone I love and that loves me in the same way. You already know my answer, but I need to know-

“Will you marry me?”

“Oh, Launchpad. Yes.” His heart felt like it was going to burst. God, it was really happening. This was better than any lovestruck dream he had conjured in the past year. Drake ran over to the other duck and flung his arms around his waist. He was once again surrounded by strong warm arms and sighed happily.

“We did it. We’re gonna get married.” He could hear Launchpad’s voice rumble low in his chest. “Can we have a Darkwing Duck themed wedding?”

“Oh my god, yes!” Drake pulled his head back up, eyes sparkling. “We could totally coordinate our suits and the decorations and the cake, oh my god, we’re gonna get to eat wedding cake together, and-” He paused his rambling as a realization struck him. “Hold on. Is it gonna look weird if I have a wedding themed after myself?”

“I mean.” Launchpad blinked. “We’re both talking about the TV show Darkwing Duck, right?” Drake nodded. “Then, I think it’s fine. If anyone comes that doesn’t know you’re also Darkwing Duck, they’ll probably think of it as an obsessed fanboy thing. And everyone that does know, will probably understand.” He squeezed Drake’s hand with a grin. “It’s our wedding.”

“Our wedding,” Drake echoed. Oh my god. They were having a wedding. Together! Because they were getting married to each other! He started flapping his hands to try to let out some of his pent up joy. “Our wedding! Oh my gosh, we need to tell people! And send invitations and start writing our vows but I don’t know if that’s something you have to do separately or you can coordinate somehow and-”

“We’ll have plenty of time to get all that sorted out,” Launchpad responded, taking a hold of Drake’s beak and tilting his head up to look at him. His eyes were warm. “But, sweetheart, it’s almost three am and I don’t know if anything’s even open. I’m excited too, but you gotta take a deep breath.”

Drake did just that. “Right, right. Don’t need to pass out before we get home. That would also kill the mood.”

Launchpad chuckled. “Shall we?” He gestured to the open foyer.

“Wait, wait, one last thing!” Drake’s gaze had caught Launchpad’s hand and there was still a certain something missing. Something he had already forgotten once, and he was not going to make that same mistake again. His partner jumped a bit at his sudden outburst, and smiled in apology. “Sorry, this really is the last thing, I promise. Do you want me to put on your ring for you?”

Launchpad’s eyes widened. “Right, rings. We should be wearing them.” He smiled back, gaze drifting to Drake’s left hand. “Can I put yours on, too?”

“Of course.”

And finally, after months of dreaming and pacing and purchasing, Drake took the hand of the love of his life and slipped on his ring. Launchpad did the same, and Drake could hardly breathe. They held their hands up to the light, admiring the way the rings sparkled.

“So why is it that you’re supposed to put your engagement ring on your left hand?” Launchpad tilted his head to view his ring from a different angle. “Is it for protection?”

“I’ve heard it’s because your left hand is closer to your heart.” Drake explained. He saw Launchpad compare the distance from his hands and his chest, brow furrowed.

“But. How’d they figure it out? I can’t tell which one is closer!”

“Maybe they made it up to sound sappy. I don’t really get it, either.”

“Huh. That’s weird. Anyways,” Launchpad shook his head and offered his hand out. “Shall we go, then?”

Drake giggled and took his hand. “Yes, we shall.”

***

When they arrived at home, the stars were still shining. Drake would always be thankful for the shortcut built into their house in Duckburg. When he and Launchpad had decided to move in together, the most difficult decision had been choosing where exactly they wanted to live. Drake didn't want to leave St. Canard without a hero to protect it, and Launchpad didn't want to move away from his job and his family.

Fortunately, his pilot worked for the richest man alive who had no intentions of letting Launchpad leave if he didn't want to. With Scrooge’s money, they had a secret tunnel constructed that led from their house to Darkwing Tower accessible via two blue chairs in the living room. Travel was instantaneous, so Drake didn't have to give up his city and Launchpad didn't have to give up his job (it also meant he could come on patrols without sacrificing so much sleep. In the early days, Launchpad barely got any sleep driving for six hours total back and forth every night. It was scary to Drake how dedicated his partner was sometimes. Endearing, yes, but scary all the same).

He was going to try to stay quiet as he entered the house, he really was since he was expecting to find Gosalyn asleep in her room. It was a school night, so she should have been asleep.

Sleeping, however, was not what she was doing when he found his fourteen year old daughter awake on the couch in the living room. She was spread out, feet kicked up on one of the arms and scrolling through her phone. The second she heard the chairs activate, however, her eyes darted over to her fathers and dropped the device and scrambled over.

“Dad! Papa! How was patrol tonight?” Her eyes glittered with excitement. She always loved to hear about their patrols whenever she couldn't go. Which was often because she had school on weekdays and needed her sleep. Sleep that she was currently not getting for reasons possibly not unknown to Drake.

He arched an eyebrow. “It was fine. Only had a few robberies to stop, but you probably knew it was a quiet night. Speaking of which,” he crossed his arms. “It's three am on a Thursday. What are you doing out of bed and still awake?”

“I couldn't sleep, so I figured I'd wait for you guys. And I can see,” her eyes landed on his ring, grin growing wider, “that tonight wasn't as uneventful as you said. Not in the sense of crime fighting, anyway.”

She turned to Launchpad and asked, “so how mad was he that you beat him to it?” He started to explain but Drake cut in with some squawking of his own.

“What do you mean, ‘beat him to it’!? How did you even know he was planning to propose too?” He finally asked, pointing a finger at Gos.

“Oh, I asked her if I could marry you.” Launchpad answered. “‘Cause, she's your family and I wanted her to know.” He seemed shy all of a sudden, blushing slightly and twisting his own ring.

Somehow, Drake felt his heart swell with even more love as his breath caught in his throat. “Oh. That. Makes sense. And that's. That's really sweet of you, LP. Oh my god, I'm so happy I'm gonna marry you.”

His fiancé grinned back, silly and sweet. “Me too, babe.”

The moment was interrupted by their daughter gagging and rolling her eyes. She still had a slight smile on her face, though. “God, go get a room. Anyways!” She clapped her hands and turned back to Launchpad. “You didn't answer my question. Did he fling a smoke bomb at you or something?”

“Hey!”

“No, but he did set some off on accident…”

As they explained the events of earlier that night, Gosalyn listened with rapt attention. She only interjected twice, both times, “I told you so,” and both directed at Drake (she had caught him pacing in the kitchen one day and demanded an explanation, to which he told her everything. She told him he had nothing to worry about as “you guys are so in love, it's sickening sometimes”). When they were done, she asked if they had any ideas for the wedding yet. Ignoring their clear choice for overall theme, the answer was no, so they brainstormed possible locations and the beginning of what was sure to be a very long guest list. By the time Gos brought up food, it was four thirty.

At that point, Drake declared that it was too early for this and said they should all go to bed. Gosalyn didn't argue, as the wedding talk had finally tired her out.

They tucked her into bed, kissed her cheek, and said goodnight. Launchpad was already in their bedroom and Drake was following him when Gosalyn spoke up.

“Dad?”

He turned around. “Yeah, sweetie?”

She met his eyes and gave him a soft smile. “I'm really happy for you.”

He smiled back. “Thanks.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Gosalyn.”

He and his fiancé didn't get much sleep. They spent the rest of the night talking in hushed whispers, showering each other in soft kisses, or simply holding one another.

Because they said yes.

And that small word opened a new door, one they were both thrilled to walk through.

Together.

#note to self: write fics in tumblr #and google docs at the same time #copying and pasting is so painful #but anyways hope you enjoyed!!#ducktales #drakepad #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #gosalyn mallard #darkwing duck #my writing #lets get engaged

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shera-dnd · 3 years

Text

Face Turn - Tag Team

It’s once again time for some more Face Turn!

I hope y’all are liking Weiss and Yang’s dynamic, because their fans sure do... a bit too much in fact

this chapter is definitely not just me roasting real people shippers lol

ANYWAY here’s the AO3 link and on with the fic

While Weiss and Yang’s relationship progressed outside the ring, so did it do inside it as well. Though they haven’t directly had any rematches yet, they have insulted and challenged each other constantly and Weiss had to admit that shit talking her friend was one of the best parts of her job.

The other great part was kicking people’s shit in and then hearing their fans boo her out of the ring.

She had made a big deal of ‘putting all of them in their place’ and she was doing her best to make good on those words. It truly seemed that only Yang would be able to beat her now and the build up for their rematch was fast approaching.

Poor Yang on the other hand just couldn’t catch a break and had to deal with so many heels coming after her while she was still ‘recovering’. One of those vultures happened to be a man by the name of Mercury Black, and Weiss was on her way to ruin his day.

So the plan here was pretty simple. Yang would be exhausted from all those fights she hadn’t fully recovered from and Mercury would take that opportunity to take her down, but before he had the chance, Weiss would interfere and beat up Yang too, disqualifying Mercury and saving Yang once more.

She was Weiss’s rival after all, she couldn’t have someone else beating her up.

She got her cue and made her way to the ring, unannounced. Casually she leaned against the structure and threw in some insults as she watched the fight unfold. It was only when he had Yang backed into a corner that she grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the turnbuckle.

The judge called it there, disqualifying Mercury for outside interference.

“I didn’t need your help!” Mercury shouted, right up to her face.

“Oh please, like I care about you,” she scoffed, “now be a nice loser and go sulk backstage.”

They sized each other up and braced to fight right then and there, but the judge interrupted them again and made Weiss leave the ring.

“Do try to make a better show of it next time,” she taunted Yang on her way out, “it wouldn’t do to have you lose to every punk with an attitude.”

Yang could only sneer through her bloodied face. Lilac eyes stared at her, promising revenge in front of the whole camera crew. She had to admit, Yang was a fantastic actor.

Her taunting grin never left her face as she walked back through the booing crowd, not offering any of the fans even a glance as she made her way backstage.

That is until she noticed the one person cheering her heart out. It was a younger person with a sign that read ‘Freezer Burn 4 Life’. Weiss had no idea what that meant, but the fan kept cheering her and pointing at the sign.

Didn’t matter, she did her job and it was time to go back to the changing room.

“Schnee,” Mercury called as soon as he saw her, “that was the biggest dick move I’ve ever seen.”

He marched up to her, studied for a second and then offered his fist.

Weiss punched it.

“Nice!” He laughed, “think we can talk Blake into scheduling a fight for us?”

She chuckled, “I’ll see what I can do.”

On her way out she stopped by Yang’s side, just to give her a slap on the first non-bruised surface she could find and say, “see you at the Fang tomorrow.”

And so they did just that, but what she didn’t expect was for them to have a visitor.

Weiss nearly jumped on her seat when she heard a noise coming from her left and turned around to glare at the person, just to recognize her favorite writer sitting down and ordering a drink.

“Right, forgot about the blindspot, sorry” Blake apologized.

She didn’t really say anything back, just shook her head and turned back to her drink. No point in bringing attention to the humiliation.

“Hey, Blakey,” Yang greeted, “is it your turn to share your tragic backstory over some drinks?”

“There’s no amount of alcohol that can get me to share that mess,” she joked, or at least they hoped she joked, “actually I was more interested to hear from you. Have you two been checking your social media lately?”

“Eh,” Yang shrugged, “not much outside of the usual promo stuff.”

“And I have better shit to do than scroll through twitter all day,” besides, it strained her eyes too fast for her to enjoy it.

“So I take it neither of you have seen the hashtag ‘Freezerburn’ before, right?” She asked, already pulling out her phone.

“I think I saw someone carrying a sign about that yesterday,” Yang commented.

“Yeah it was some random fan during your last match,” she elaborated, “they seemed really intent on making me see it.”

Blake took in a sharp breath through her teeth as she looked awkwardly between the two of them.

“I don’t know how to say this but,” Blake braced herself, before turning the phone towards them, “your fans started shipping you.”

There was a moment of silence as they tried to process what had just been said. This was made entirely more difficult by the fact that what Blake was showing them was simply surreal.

Hundreds of tweets under that stupid tag, ranging from short messages in all caps about how they were meant for each other, to long and elaborately edited videos of just about every second they’ve spent together in public.

It was bizarre.

Worse still was the knowledge that their match from the previous day had only added fuel to this fire they had no idea had been burning in the first place. It all filled Weiss with a profound discomfort that she couldn’t quite put into words.

“What the fuck?” Was her only response.

“Not this shit again,” was Yang’s.

Blake just sighed and ordered another round on her.

“What the fuck!?” She repeated, much louder this time.

“I should have seen this coming,” Blake said, “I should have taken some sort of precaution to make sure this wouldn’t happen.”

“Do they fucking know how disrespectful this shit is?” She was nearly shouting now, “Do they know how fucking creepy they look?”

“No and no,” Yang sighed, “and trust me, Blake, there’s nothing we could have done. If they get it in their heads that we're a couple then nothing in the world is gonna convince them otherwise.”

“You sound like you have way too much experience with that,” Blake said.

Yang took another long sip of her drink, before she could answer.

“It was back when I was doing Indie stuff,” she began, “it wasn’t nearly as big as this, but back then I had been in a tag team with this girl called Neo. People would hound us for info on our relationship and shout that we should kiss any time we won a match. It was really creepy, especially considering Neo was already in a relationship at the time. It was just…”

Yang shuddered.

“Okay that’s fucking it, next time I see someone with a Freezer Burn sign, I’m ripping it in half,” Weiss declared.

“Don’t actually do that,” Yang pleaded, “they’ll just take it as confirmation that we’re secretly crushing on each other or something. The more you bring attention to it the worse it gets.”

“So should we change the plot line maybe?” Blake offered, “keep the rivalry, but tone down the ‘only I get to beat you’ aspect of it?”

“I guess that could work,” Yang shrugged. With a gesture towards the three of them and the bar in general, she added, “maybe we should tone this down as well.”

“What!?”

“You know, they haven’t found this place yet, but every time we meet outside of the arena we’re risking just fueling their weird shit,” Yang explained and Weiss was having none of that.

“Fuck that!” She interjected, “I’m not sacrificing this shit over some internet weirdos. If they wanna be creepy then that’s on them, but I get to decide how I spend my free time and I’m gonna spend it with my fucking friends!”

This had been the best thing to have happened to her in well over a year and she was not letting it be hijacked by some obsessive creeps.

“D’aww, you see me as a friend?” Yang teased, and suddenly Weiss agreed that maybe they should spend less time together.

#rwby #Freezer burn #freezerburn #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #fanfic #wrestling au

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bag-chips · 4 years

Text

(Apologies for the length, messy handwriting poor quality uwu)

I binged all the Mechanisms albums in one day and became utterly obsessed with the idea of them being Jon’s uni band. On top of this I got thinking about the theatre lines in MAG 172. Ergo, here’s a master post of various Mechanism!Jon and Theatre!Jon scenarios! (it’s mainly Jonmartin fluff I’m not going to lie to you). It took four days. Last night I stayed up till nearly four trying to get it done cos I hate myself ;)

1) My design for Mechanism Jon. He’s absolutely one of those guys who grow excessive facial hair to look older and more mature. And, oh look! Some JonGeorgie stuff. Rather than being a member of the band, I’d like to think she acts as the behind the scenes manager, helping out with bookings lighting and costumes. It will become apparent that Jon is like my fave and I’m soft for this stupid little man.

2) Depressed S3 Jon with the Admiral. Jon prefers to not talk about the band, especially since most of the Archival staff make fun of him for it anyway. However, he absolutely ends up quoting Mech songs when he’s on his own, especially when emotionally compromised. The aftermath of this little sketch would be Jon spitting out the whisky and nearly throwing up because he hates the taste and can only really stand very weak alcoholic drinks (hey hi hello I’m projecting).

Stupid sketch of him taking part in a Shakespeare production. Jon was and still is a theatre kid, taking part in any play or musical he could during his uni years. He’s a dramatic little bitch but damn does he have a fantastic stage pressence. Georgie proudly supports him from behind the curtain.

3) Martin finds out about the Mechanisms through Tim, who uses the material to expertly tease Jon. Martin finds pictures. Martin’s crush is cemented he is homosexual he is transfixed by the images. This leads to him listening to the albums, which outside of them being by his crush he genuially does love them. He often finds himself listening to them whilst working around the Archives, but takes great efforts to hide his love of the Mechs from a curious Jon.

4) Everyone at the Archives knows about the band. Tim and Melanie are the lead culprits in mocking him about it, especially in the tense work environment of S3. (For context Mechanism shows had the tradition of Jonny De’Ville claiming he was the captain, with Gunpowder Tim and the audience then proclaiming that no he’s the first mate Jonny stop Jonny no. Go listen to the Death of the Mechanisms you’ll see).

5) Post-MAG172 argument. Who will win? The poetry nerd or the theatre kid?

6) (Read downwards until the next row the layouts weird cos I sketched it whilst sleep deprived at 2am ;) ). Jonmartin fluff!

TMA is a tragedy. Listening to the Mechanism albums has made that very clear. So the next couple of images would be set in a happy ending AU fuck u they’re going to get married let me dream.

7) (Apologies for the weird writing again sleep deprived). Jon wants to fulfill his side of the bargain and take Martin to the theatre. After many trips to Georgie’s and a lot of planning, Jon decides to take them on a date to see Cats at the West End, since it turns out Martin knows the original poems. Thing is, this is their first proper date. And it so happens to conicide with their first anniversary. And Jon wants to spoil Martin with an engagement present as an apology (Jon ruined the proposal with his eye powers). Jon wants to go big. And it just so happens that Elias left a lot of money. He decides to go ham and get them a private box. He gets Georgie to book it for them since he wants it to be a surprise and despite his Eldritch mind google he can’t figure out how to work a laptop.

Martin is told he’s going to the theatre. However it takes until they’re collecting the tickets at the front desk for Jon to reveal the seats and thus allude to the expenses. Martin has always worried about money given his upbringing, and panics, nearly having a full blown argument with Jon in front of the ticket man. Jon really should have listened to Georgie’s warnings.

8) (The Wikipedia text box thing was inspired by a brilliant TMA comic, once I find it again I’ll link it!) Jon is very much excited for the perfomance, and infodumps about it. Martin is still annoyed about the expense of the date but starts to relax and mellow out once he gets a glass of wine in his hand and a quiet moment to listen to his fiancée talk passionately about something.

9) The gays get ice cream and discuss who’s the prettiest actor in the interval. Martin is very much wired to how Jon works now, and uses the conversation to calm him down a bit (I think Jon was very much concerned that Martin might leave him over this bless that man).

10) The couple head home after a few quiet drinks at the bar. Jon is exchausted - mentally strained by the worry of perfecting the date, his emotional investment into the show and the two glasses of wine he had. Martin forgives him for the excessive nature of the trip, but would be lying is he said he didn’t enioy the show (even if it was mainly experiencing it through Jon’s expressive face, investment and him mouthing the lyrics quietly to himself). He’s going to ask if they can maybe listen to a different musical album whilst Jon recovers from his inevitable hangover tomorrow, but first he needs to gently carry his pissed and sleepy partner up to bed.

I wanted to draw soft things I’m sorry I love this podcast with all my heart have a nice day

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ktellmeastory · 4 years

Text

Waking Up In Vegas-Adam Sackler

can i ask for “Did we get married? and “That’s your fifth cup of coffee and it isn’t even noon yet" from the sentence prompt list with adam sackler and a vegas au?

So thank you for sending me this, I took forever with it and I am so sorry about that...that being said have 3,000+ words of Sackler being Sackler...

Going to Las Vegas with Adam Sackler was probably a bad idea. Where should you not take a recovering alcoholic? If you said Vegas you’d have been right, but for whatever reason when he said he wanted to go there after the show he was in got their shut down notice. They had barely been on Broadway for a year, but the show wasn’t making enough money and the producers had decided to end it. Adam hadn’t been prepared for that to be the outcome, to him art, and theatre specifically wasn’t meant to be about the money. It was for the art, and he had really believed the message of the piece. For it to be pulled out from under his feet for something as stupid as the money it made had driven him absolutely insane. But the producers had paid all of the actors through the end of their contracts and when you found Adam later that night ripping apart the wooden beams in his apartment, he had asked you to go with him to Vegas. At first you had tried to talk him down from it, but then you realized that you weren’t going to stop him from going, just send him alone you had agreed to go along with him. When you got to the airport in Vegas the next day, Adam had grabbed you around the waist, spun you around and told you it was time to get crazy. He bought you both a room on the strip with double beds and you had spent the day exploring the strip together, doing all the touristy things before settling into one of those crazy buffets with a million foods to choose from for so cheap. This should have been your first clue that things weren’t going so well. Adam wasn’t someone to eat like this, he ate to keep himself going, but here he was eating things you were sure he’d never put in his mouth before. You quirked an eyebrow at him as you took a sip of your coffee, as he ate what you had counted as his third piece of fried chicken. “What?” he asked, looking up at you cheeks full like a chipmunk.

“Nothing…I think I may be enjoying you eating fried food more than I ever thought I would” you tease with a laugh. He chuckled, leaning over to wipe his greasy face against yours, causing you to flinch and laugh. “Stop stop stop!” you squeal, pushing your hand against his chest to stop him.

“Are you done?”

“Am I done? Are you?” you asked motioning to the plate in front of him.

“Yea…fuck this shit…it’s all gonna go to my hips and my ass…I’m gonna have an ass like Beyonce and I’m not sure I’m meant to be bootylicious,” he said getting up and grabbing your hand and pulling you back out into the casino. “Let’s get a drink” he said pulling you towards the bar.

“You don’t drink” you point out.

“Yea but you do…and I want to buy you a drink” he said as you both took a seat at the bar.

“Fine…one drink…” you say with a sigh as the bartender comes over. But he doesn’t buy you just one drink and at some point, without you really noticing, he’s drinking too and the night starts to get blurry. You remember walking the strip again, you sort of remember someone dressed as Elvis, something like a church and then cold metal. The next thing you know, you’re waking up in the hotel room, your mouth is drier than the Sahara Desert and you just make it to the toilet before you’re upchucking all of that 99 cent buffet food. You’d groan out loud if you could figure out how, but the idea of that loud of a noise makes your head hurt. When you think you may have finally gotten it all out of your system you get up, brush your teeth, splash some water on your face and head back out into the main room. Adam is sitting up against the headboard of his bed, shirtless and looks over at you when you walk back in. He holds up a bottle of water and advil and holds them both out to you.

“You’re gonna want these” he says, and you nod, laying over his lap as you take them from him.

“I feel like I got hit by two trucks, a taxi and like 37 of those dudes who drive people around on those bike taxi things…”

“Rickshaws”

“What?”

“Rickshaws…that’s what those are called…” he said, smoothing your hair back from your face looking down at you. “When we get back to New York…I need to get back into meetings…I fucked up…Really bad…” You bit you lip and looked up at him. He shakes his head when he sees the look on your face. “It wasn’t your job to keep me from it, or to get me to stop or anything…I did it…you couldn’t have stopped me even if you wanted to.”

“But if I hadn’t said yes to coming…”

“Then I would have been alone, and I probably would have done worse than got a little drunk…as it was, I only got a few in because I distinctly remember you taking my shots for me after a while…so I think you tried to keep me controlled even though you don’t really remember it.” He said tapping your nose with a grin before looking at his hand and raising an eyebrow.

“What?” you ask, confused by the look on his face. He looked over at you, licked his lips and then lifted his hand, showing you the front of his hand and the simple band on his ring finger. You sit up so fast, you’re afraid you’re going to be sick again. “Adam…where did you get that…why do you have that…”

“I think the more important thing to think about is,” he says taking your hand lifting it to show you a matching band. “Did we get married?” he asked looking at you.

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

“Is that another cup of coffee?” Adam asks you as you slide the sleeve onto another cup of coffee as you head into the next Little Chapel. There are exactly far too many fucking places to get married in Vegas and you’ve been searching all of them to find out if you got married, and if that marriage is valid and goddamn if you’re not going to drink as much coffee as you can.

“Why?” you ask turning to him, hair whipping in the breeze to glare at him.

“That’s your fifth cup of coffee and it isn’t even noon yet…you know caffeine is a drug…you can get addicted to it…”

“I swear to god Adam…” he laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. You guys walk up the front desk of the chapel, hitting the little bell that’s on the counter. You flinch ever so lightly and Adam chuckles softly, placing his hand on the small of your back.

“Oh I’m so glad you guys are back!” Says a woman who comes to the counter. “You guys stumbled out of here so fast last night I didn’t get to give you a copy of your marriage license.” You’re almost sure you can hear it, the moment your heart falls out of your ass. She digs around under the counter for a moment before pulling out a piece of paper and holds it out towards you. Adam is gracious enough to take it, looking down at it.

“Shit looks really good…real fucking real” Adam says studying the paper. And before she even says it, you know what she’s going to say. You’ve seen enough of those waking up in Vegas movies to know, it’s a totally legal binding thing to get married in Vegas no matter how drunk you were.

“It should…cause it is…Now I know you two were a little out of it last night, but I did keep some of the pictures if you want to still purchase them…” She says typing some things on the computer in front of her. You can feel yourself shaking your head, and you’re almost positive that if Adam hadn’t seen how freaked out you looked he might have actually let her show off a bunch of drunken photos of you and him getting actually married. Actually married.

“You know what…Sarah…” he says looking at the girls nametag. “Me and the Misses here are just going to go celebrate…But thank you very much” he says, slipping his hand into yours, using it to pull you from the chapel and back to the hotel. You follow mostly in shock, sitting on the bed as he places the marriage license on his suitcase. “You know…” he says leaning on the built-in dresser. “You’ve been really quiet for a while now kid…so if you could maybe say something…”

“We’re married…Legally binding married…how are you not freaking out more?” You ask looking up at him. He sighs and shakes his head, kneeling in front of you. “We got drunk…we got married…we’re legally married…”

“Hey hey hey…” he says, placing his hands on yours. “There are worse ways I could wake up…Being married to you is a treat compared to the shit I got into when I was 14…and when we get home, I’ll get back to the AA meetings, scouts honor”

“Were you even a scout?” you ask, a small pout on your lips.

“For like two days…I got thrown out for yanking it in the tent” You can’t help the laugh that falls from your lips and you free a hand to slap his arm lightly. “They like look down on that or whatever…I thought I could get a wanking badge or something.” He jokes with you and his smile is infectious making you smile too. “Now don’t freak out so much…your way to pretty for that kid.”

“When we get back to the city, I’ll take this to the lawyers at work, they should be able to get it annulled pretty quickly…” he looks at you, and you see almost a moment of anger pass his eyes before he stands and walks over to his bed.

“Sounds good…”

“Okay…” you murmur, biting your lip. “I really am sorry that this made this vacation so weird…” “Do you just not get the vibe or are you not interested or what?” he asks looking over at you.

“What?” you asked standing up and looking at him. He turns away from you grabbing the pillow off his bed, putting it to his face and screaming. It would throw you off if you hadn’t seen him have moments like this before but instead of yelling at him, you walk over and grab it from him, pulling it from him lightly. “What are you doing?”

“Listen…I’m kinda over this whole fucking thing…Obviously you aren’t interested and I’m tired of making a goddamn fool of myself about it!”

“Adam! What are you talking about?”

“I fucking like you! And my stupid fucking ass thought you knew that when you agreed to come here with me this weekend…I mean we spend so much time together, and I just assumed we were on the way to being together and taking it slow…you didn’t seem like the type to rush into fucking and I just figured…but obviously I was wrong…and I feel fucking stupid, cause here I am thinking…” you look at him as he talks, getting more and more animated as he does so. Yes you liked him, you had liked him from the moment you had met him, but you had never thought he was interested, especially because he had never tried to make a move…Well that wasn’t quite true was it? He had almost kissed you a few months ago, that day he had run out in the rain with an umbrella to help you with your groceries. He had leaned in, and you were sure he was going to kiss you on your doorstep but Mrs. Makovitz from 3B had asked get past him and the moment had passed. But here he was, in front of you freaking out because he didn’t think you cared about him the same way he was admitting to. You bit your lip before leaning up, grasping his cheeks in your hands and kissing him. His hands were in your hair the moment your lips connected, pulling you as close as he could, one hand traveling down to your lower back to pull you even that bit closer. When you both needed to breathe he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “Listen kid…if you’re just doing this because you think it’s what I want…or some bullshit like that, don’t…only do this if this is what you want” you smile at him and shake your head, pulling his lips to yours in a sweeter kiss.

“I’ve had a crush on you for forever…I just didn’t think you liked me…” “Kid, I’ve more than liked you for a long time…I didn’t want to push you away…cause I do that…Hannah…Jessa…I didn’t want to chance doing that with you…”

“I’m not Hannah…or Jessa…or anyone else…I’m here…and I’m yours…if you want me” the smile that spreads over his lips is one that could melt the ice caps. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lip.

“You know…” he says, his hands on your hips, forcing them to do a small figure 8. “We’re married…”

“Yea…I will take care of it…I promise…” “Or…we could just you know…” “What?”

“Well we could stay married…”

“Wha…” “We could stay married…I mean I know it isn’t the most conventional thing but we could just stay married…date…but stay married…We’re gonna be together anyways why spend the money on doing something like getting an annulment or whatever?” you look up at him, realizing he’s being serious. He smiles at you and you realize you’re not completely against it. The moment he realizes that you’re all for it, he dips down and presses his lips to yours again, his hands trailing down and to your ass grasping it, pulling your hips to his with a happy growl. You laughed against his lips, arms going to wrap around his neck happily. He picked you up, spinning you happily before kissing you again. “Now listen…we can keep the whole going slow vibe if that’s what you want…but I’m really ready to consummate this marriage” He says, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively. You laugh again and lean down to kiss him softly.

“Is that so Mr. Sackler?” you ask, nibbling his bottom lip teasingly. The growl that comes from his lips this time is purely sexual as his grip on your ass tightens. You feel him shift and then your back is on the bed, Adam’s standing over you pulling his shirt off.

“I’m gonna count to 5 Mrs. Sackler, and you better be naked for me” he orders as he works on his own belt. You watch him and he looks up, brown eyes locking with yours, a twinkling smile deep in them. “5…4…” you gasp, bite your lip and pull your dress over your head flinging it to the side before going for the clasp of your bra. Adam finishes undressing to his boxers before he grabs your ankle and pulls you towards him causing you to laugh. He grins at you, kissing up your thigh before pulling your panties down your legs and flinging them into the room. He groans as he sees your already glistening pussy, and licks his lips as he reaches forward to spread your legs. “God damn I knew it was going to be like heaven getting you under me…” he tells you, before sliding his middle finger through your silky folds before pressing it into your tight heat. A small whimper falls from your lips, your head falling back against the mattress, your hips pushing towards his hand. He grins, pressing your hips back to the bed, one knee coming to lean on the bed as he adds another finger, beginning to pump them in and out of your center. “I just want to get you ready…I want all your cum on my cock…”

“Fuck…”

“You like that…like the idea of cumming on my cock?”

“Yes…”

“You gonna cum on my cock like the good girl I know you are?”

“Y..yes…” He grins and leans down, kissing down your throat before sucking a dark mark into the skin right above your collarbone. He pulls his fingers from you, sucking them into his mouth to clean all of your juices off his fingers. He removes his fingers with a popping sound before he slides his boxers off, grasping his large cock in his hand to pump it a couple times before he’s pushing into your tight heat, both of you gasping out happily. It stings in all the best ways as he pumps into you until he can finally bottom out, both of you panting at the feeling. He gives you the moment to adjust, his lips finding your pulse point, your nipples, and he waits for you to move your hips to give him the okay. He starts thrusting now, his fingers of one hand digging into the headboard, the other pulling your hips to his as he fucks into you. The only sound in the room is skin hitting skin and small gasps from your lips. You reach up and pull his lips to yours, your legs wrapping around his hips.

“Fuck” he growls out as it gets him just that fraction of an inch deeper. His hand goes to your thigh, fingertips digging into your skin as he holds you there. You grind your hips against his as he buries himself, his pubic bone giving you wonderful friction on your clit. He growls, and grabs your hips to flip you so you’re on top of him. You gasp out, your hands going to his chest, nails digging in causing him to hiss in pleasure. He plants his feet on the bed and starts to fuck up into you, pulling you down. You start to move your hips against his and he groans out, his hand going to your clit to rub furious tight little circles against your hard nub. You moan out loudly and he lifts up on his other elbow to kiss your neck as he growls against your skin. “You’re gonna cum and you’re gonna scream my name…got it kid?” you whimper out an agreement as you feel his fingers going harder and faster and suddenly you can’t keep your pace anymore, everything goes white and then your cumming, screaming his name like he asked you to. He pumps a few more times into your pulsating heat and then he’s cumming, thick and hot coating your walls. Adam falls back to the mattress and you fall to his chest, both of you riding the rest of that high. When you can finally breathe again, you rest your chin on his chest to look up at him. He looks down at you and smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Worth the fucking wait” he confirms with a chuckle. You laugh and lift yourself off of him, both of you wincing at the loss of contact. When you sit up, he sits up with you, hands going around your waist to keep you from leaving. “Where are you going…”

“I’ve got to pee…its good for you after sex” you tease with a laugh. He grins, standing up and flipping you over his shoulder so you have a great view of his bare ass as he walks you to the bathroom. You laugh as you feel his hand smack down on your ass.

“Okay…but next time, you’re doing a handstand… “A handstand?” You ask as he puts you on the toilet.

“Yea…cause I want you full of my cum…” he says with a wink before leaving you there to look at your wedding band. Maybe being Mrs. Sackler was going to be everything you thought and more.

#Adam snackler #waking up in vegas #Adam sackler x reader #Adam sackler #Adam sackler x you #Adam sackler imagine #Adam sackler fanfiction #Adam sackler/reader #Adam sackler/you #hbo girls #girls hbo #Adam driver

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heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

Chapter 4: Winton

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which Harry and Y/N finally meet Harry’s father and he’s not what they expected.

Word count: 5.8k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (original character: Thea as Y/N)

A/N: I’m on vacation right now and I brought my laptop to write but I couldn’t write with my family around so I’m sorry I haven’t written any new blurb 😂 I will next week when I get home.

The next day, Harry, Y/N, and Isaac came to the address Emilia had given them. It was a cheap tower block quite far from Harry’s North London house. Y/N found it strange that a twenty-something was still living with her father, but she didn’t want to judge anyone before getting to know them.

As the building didn’t have a lift, they had to use the narrow staircase to get to the fourth floor. The walls were stained and the floor was unclean. There was no window in the hallway and the only source of light was the blinking lightbulb on the dark grey ceiling.

“This place seems even worse than mine,” Y/N said, following Isaac as he checked every door for the right flat number.

With an arm around her shoulders, Harry spoke, “your place is still pretty shit, babe.”

“True.” Y/N chuckled, but then she realised what it actually meant. “Hey, I know what you’re trying to do!”

“Well, I’m not trying to do anything.” He shrugged. “You hate my big mansion anyway so, what’s the point?”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

As she shot him a glare, he burst out laughing and pulled her in for a hug. “I was only joking.”

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Yes, it was. You should’ve seen your face.”

“Guys!” Isaac called from the end of the hallway, pointing to a door as the couple rushed up to him. “Here it is. Flat no. 28.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“You do it.” Isaac nudged Harry, who nudged him right back.

“No, you do it. Your girlfriend lives here.”

“One, she’s not my girlfriend. Two, you’re here to see your dad.”

“I don’t consider him as my dad so--”

“Oh my fucking god!” Y/N cried out as she pushed the men apart and knocked on the door, glaring at both of them.

Harry sucked in a breath. When he squeezed her hand, she could tell he was nervous so she patted him on the back and reassured him that it would be okay. Meanwhile, Isaac stayed quiet. Y/N assumed it must have been because of her, as they hadn’t exchanged a word since they got into the car, and she was dying to know if he was still upset.

“Hey, I--”

The door creaked open as soon as she spoke and Emilia greeted them with a wide smile. The girl put a hand on her chest, dimples dug deep into her cheeks as she stared attentively at Harry’s face.

“You look even more handsome in person,” she said.

“Thank you.” Harry pressed his lips into an awkward smile. “Can we—”

“Oh, please, come in! Make yourself at home!” Emilia pulled the door open wide and stepped aside for her guests to enter. “Have a seat. I’ll go get my dad.”

Y/N and Harry followed Isaac to the middle of the room. As Harry stopped in front of a bookshelf, Y/N soon realised what he was staring at. A family picture, in which Winton looked the same as he did in the photograph Harry had found when he was a child. He was young, only a bit older than Harry now, and Emilia was just a baby sitting on her mother’s lap. All three of them were smiling.

Y/N crossed her arms, her eyes squinted. She supposed all blondes looked the same as she found Winton’s wife very familiar but wasn’t sure whom she reminded her of. It took her a moment to figure it out. And her mouth fell open.

Ruby fucking Ellis.

“What?” Harry lifted an eyebrow when she shot him a glare.

Isaac understood right away so he laughed and said, “Emilia looks more like Winton.”

“Thank God for that,” Y/N said, still glaring at Harry.

“I’m not following, is that an inside joke?”

Y/N and Isaac exchanged looks with each other and almost burst out laughing when the sound of the door made them all turn their heads. Though no one reacted, they were equally shocked to see Emilia pushing a man in a wheelchair to the living room.

That’s him. That’s Winton! Y/N thought, but...what happened to his legs?

“Why are you all standing? Come here! Make yourself at home,” Winton said, pointing to the sofa, and Harry, Y/N, and Isaac reluctantly came to sit down at once.

“I’ll make you guys some tea!”

“I’ll help!” Isaac got up quickly and followed Emilia into the kitchen. He was only eager to get out of there and Y/N would have gone with him if it hadn’t been for Harry. She stayed with him even though she hated the awkward silence which took over as soon as Emilia and Isaac left. She wanted to speak up, but at the same time, couldn’t stop gawking at Winton.

Winton Styles was exactly how she imagined Harry would look like in thirty years, only happier than Harry would’ve been if he’d been jobless and living in a place like this. Harry was probably thinking of the same thing. And from his hardened expression, she could tell he was as disappointed as he was surprised.

He wanted to see a loser, an unemployed alcoholic who had to live on his daughter’s money. Not a disabled man who was content with having nothing more than a daughter who loved him. It was selfish and almost cruel to wish that for anyone, but Y/N understood and therefore couldn’t blame him.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” she spoke so Harry didn’t have to, smiling as she shook Winton’s hand. “My name’s Y/N. I’m Harry’s girlfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. What a beautiful name,” Winton said. “Harry is so lucky to be dating such a lovely girl.”

“What happened to your legs?”

Harry’s question froze Y/N to the spot. She stayed quiet and studied Winton’s expression, thinking he would be offended but he only gave a shrug as if he’d been expecting that inquiry.

“I had an accident two years ago,” was all he said before changing the subject, “but let’s not talk about me. How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Harry’s an actor!” Y/N brightened but Harry’s lips stayed a firm line.

Winton put on a grin, slowly nodding his head. “I know. I’ve watched all of his movies.”

“He’s great, isn’t he?” Y/N said as she gave her boyfriend a nudge and yet, he didn’t crack a single smile.

“You know,” Winton went on, “Emi might be your biggest fan. She used to collect all your movie posters and learn by heart all of your famous lines.”

“Stop embarrassing me, dad!”

Y/N heaved a sigh of relief when Emilia and Isaac returned with biscuits and tea. Their presence made such a big difference as both Harry and Winton appeared a lot less apprehensive.

“She used to be a film student,” Isaac said before taking a seat next to Harry.

“Used to?”

“Yeah.” Emilia gave Y/N a smile as she plopped down on the armchair right by her father. “I’d only spent a year in college before the accident, and dad used to be a construction worker. Now that he can’t go back to work, I’m taking care of both of us.”

“That must be tough,” Y/N frowned.

“It’s all right,” Emilia giggled as she reached out to hold her father’s hand. “I’m actually thinking about taking acting classes. My biggest dream is to become a famous actress like Ruby Ellis.”

The name made Harry choke on his tea. Emilia gasped as he started coughing into his arm. “Are you okay?! Is something wrong with the tea?”

“No, the tea is exceptionally good,” Y/N answered on her boyfriend’s behalf as she took a sip from her cup.

Isaac hurriedly grabbed a biscuit and changed the subject, “these are also really good, Emi! Did you make them yourself?”

“Yes! I think I’ll open my own shop and sell these if I can’t make it as an actress.”

As Emilia went on and on about how she’d made those delicious biscuits, Y/N noticed Harry’s hand reaching inside his pocket. He was about to pull out the note when she grabbed his bicep and spoke quickly, “how old are you, Emi?”

“Twenty-one.” Emilia beamed, still unaware of the tension in the room.

“Really? We’re the same age then!” Y/N said, making her face lit up.

“Oh my god, you know what? I’ve always wanted a sister!”

“May I ask, what was the accident?”

Harry’s second question silenced the room once again. Y/N facepalmed herself as Isaac stared at his feet. They waited for Winton and Emilia to get angry and kick them out, but even though Emilia’s smile had disappeared, she still managed to keep her composure.

“Well, my mum, she...um...she was mentally unstable.”

Harry pressed his lips together as Isaac slowly looked up and Y/N’s eyes went round. It wasn’t the answer they had expected.

“She set our house on fire one night. Dad and I managed to escape but she didn’t. He went back in to save her but he couldn’t and lost both of his legs.”

Y/N suddenly felt suffocated, as if an invisible force was putting pressure against her lungs. She nibbled on her bottom lip, her eyes fell to the floor. She still remembered vividly the night her mother passed away, but if she’d been there and witnessed the car crash, it would’ve been the kind of trauma she would never have recovered from.

In a moment of weakness, she let go of Harry’s arm to grab Emilia’s hand, which allowed Harry to pull out the letter and put it in front of Winton.

“I’m sorry for you lost. I really do--”

“Harry--”

“--but I’m actually here today because Gemma couldn’t make it,” he said, ignoring his girlfriend tugging at his sleeve. “She wanted me to say a few things on her behalf, but I think it’d be better for all of us if you’d read her letter. Thank you for having us. I think we should go now.”

Before Y/N or Isaac could stop him, Harry had already got up and put on his jacket. Winton and Emilia were both speechless when the other two followed Harry to the door.

Isaac didn’t forget to thank them for the tea and biscuits as Y/N rushed down the hallway and chased her boyfriend down the stairs. When she finally caught him, she took his car key and handed it to Isaac.

“Get the car, Isaac. I need to talk to Harry.”

Isaac nodded and scurried off, leaving the couple alone on the staircase. Harry looked away when Y/N turned back to him.

“Would you mind telling me what just happened?” she asked.

He leaned a shoulder against the wall, his forehead creased. “That was exactly what we came here to do, wasn’t it?”

“But that was before we knew the kind of man he’d become,” she said, stepping closer. “It seemed to me that he had changed. You couldn’t treat him like the person he used to be twenty years ago.”

Harry tossed his head back, taking a deep breath.

“What?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Nevermind.”

“No, tell me.”

“Fine,” he breathed. “If Emilia is the same age as you, then Winton must have cheated on my mum to have her. He left when I was four. She was the reason he left us. I know we shouldn’t judge someone from their mistakes in the past, but it was all I could think of when I looked at him.”

“Shh, baby.” Y/N grabbed his face before he could turn his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise--”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s not keep Isaac waiting.” Just like that, he ducked right past her and continued walking down the stairs.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for coming with us,” Harry chuckled as Isaac patted him on the shoulder and got out from the backseat.

“No problem. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Wait!” Y/N spoke before Isaac walked away. She told Harry to give her a minute and quickly got out of the car.

“What is it, Smiley?”

The nickname made her whole face brighten as she ran up to Isaac. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but she’d missed it more than he might assume.

“You’re not mad at me?” she asked.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I was mad at you, but not anymore.”

“Good.” She put a hand on her chest and couldn’t stop beaming. “I’m still sorry though. I shouldn’t have told Harry about Emilia after I’d given you my word.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re forgiven.”

“Truce?”

“Truce,” Isaac said, shaking her hand.

They shared one last hug before Y/N returned to the car. She waved goodbye to Isaac through the window, as Harry started the engine and drove away.

It was late when they arrived at her block. He stopped his car in front of the building and kissed her goodnight as she unbuckled her seatbelt. But right before she left, she had to ask, “you’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No.” He pressed his lips into a soft smile. “Sorry I overreacted.”

“You didn’t though. I’m sorry I didn’t know,” she said and moved a strand of hair out of his forehead. “What are you thinking of right now?”

“Just…” Harry gave a shrug, his lashes fluttered. “I was fine for twenty years without knowing my dad, but now that I’ve met him, I--I’m not fine. And I can’t explain it, not even to myself.”

She stared thoughtfully into his eyes for a second. “Well, this might sound irrelevant but…” she began, tucking her hair behind her ears and laughing lightly, “after you left home for the first time and before we met again in London, I used to block you on socials, ignore all the news about you and refuse to watch any of your movies.”

“You’ve told me this before. It was because I broke my promise and didn’t come back, right?”

“Not really.” She shook her head. “I did it because...I didn’t want to know how great your life had been. I guess it’s just easier to think someone’s life doesn’t go on without you, and that they’re unhappy because they miss you all the time. When in reality, you know their lives don’t revolve around you, and that they’ll be happy with other people and don’t think about you at all. But it’s so simple to just pretend...you know?”

Harry held her gaze as he pursed his lips and cupped her cheek. His hand was cold, but she didn’t mind. She tilted her head, leaning against his palm to feel more of his touch.

“Winton was right about one thing today,” he whispered, making her eyes go round.

“What is it?”

His mouth twitched as he leaned in and kissed her softly. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Y/N’s nose crinkled when she snorted and wrapped both arms around his neck, kissing him harder.

“Hey,” he pulled away to kiss her forehead, “can I stay tonight? I miss falling asleep with you.”

“You can but I’ll be busy.” Her answer was rather disappointing, but she was always straightforward with him and he appreciated that. “I have an assignment to finish and I need to write. We won’t be able to do anything, but we can cuddle--”

“It’s fine. I’d only distract you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“I would.” He scoffed and hugged her waist to kiss along her jawline. “I’d want you so much and have to seduce you into putting your work aside to play with me.”

“You’re despicable.” She pulled his face up to peck him on the lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Will you make it up to me?”

“It depends on how you behave.”

“I’m always good.” He smirked and held her wrists against their chests so she couldn’t open the door. “Say I’m a good boy and I’ll let you go.”

“You’re a good boy. You’re the best.” She laughed, kissing him once more before he officially let her go.

“Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Good job, Harry! Take five, everyone!”

As soon as Harry returned to his makeup vanity, a makeup artist and a stylist rushed in to touch up his look for the second shoot after the break. His assistant brought water to him, but right as he wrapped his mouth around the lip of the bottle, he lowered it instantly and put the cap back on.

He turned his head fast, thinking the reflection in the mirror wasn’t real, until he actually saw Emilia standing by the entrance and waving enthusiastically.

“Excuse me.” He got out of his seat and made his way towards her. “What are you doing here, Emi?”

“I brought dad here to see you and your manager let us in!”

The girl said something else about this being her first time at a fashion photoshoot but Harry didn’t pay attention to a single word. He was busy turning left and right looking for a man in the wheelchair.

“Where’s Winton?”

“He’s waiting in the hallway.” Emilia pointed to the door and Harry hurriedly snapped his fingers to get his assistant’s attention. The girl put down her phone and ran up to him.

“Jo, this is Emilia. Can you please keep an eye on her?”

“Yes, Mr. Styles!” Jo said.

Harry didn’t say another word to Emilia and just stormed out of the studio.

He found both Jeff and Winton in the hallway. They were laughing like old friends, which made him wonder if Jeff knew who the man was.

“Hey, H! I finally met your dad!”

Fuck. He knew.

“Could you give us a moment, Jeff?”

“S-Sure,” Jeff stuttered as Harry forced a smile. His manager was taken aback by his attitude, but Harry wasn’t in the mood to explain.

He waited until Jeff was gone and finally turned to Winton. “What are you doing here?”

“I read it,” Winton said as he pulled out the letter from his pocket. He gave it to Harry who pushed it right back into his hand.

“Keep it,” he said with an attitude, but Winton didn’t react.

“These are some really harsh words. I’m not surprised they’re from Gemma as she’s always been a tough girl. But I do understand why she felt that way about me.” The older man laughed sadly as he put the letter back into his pocket.

It was then that Harry noticed the shoebox sitting on Winton’s lap, but he didn’t care enough to wonder what was inside.

“I have to get back to work.”

“I know you hate me!” Winton blurted, causing Harry to stop dead in his tracks. “I know why both of you hate me. And if I could go back in time to change everything, I would. But I can’t. So I just want to apologise.”

Harry stood still with his head hung and both hands on his hips. He took a moment to breathe and chuckled lightly.

“We don’t hate you, Winton. You must care about someone to hate them, and I don’t give a damn about you.” He looked up and pointed a finger to the door behind him. “I’ll get your daughter and the two of you will leave me and my family alone. Got it?”

“I tried to see you but your mother didn’t let me. She--”

“Stop fucking lying!” Harry raised his voice, knowing the people in the studio could hear him, but he didn’t really give a fuck. This man and his daughter had crossed so many lines and he couldn’t take it anymore. He had never wanted this to happen. He had never wished for drama. He’d been through some shit in the last couple years so why couldn’t he have one second of peace?

“I’m sorry about what happened to you and your wife,” he continued, this time, lowering his voice, “but you’re never gonna get our sympathy. You got some nerves to show up here and now you’re blaming my mother?”

“I’m not blaming your mother. I know she had her reasons--”

“Fuck off.”

“If you don’t believe me, I can prove it!” Winton pushed his wheelchair faster to catch up with Harry, who stopped right before he reached the door. “When you were thirteen you made it to your school’s football team and won the local championship.”

Harry shoved his fingers into his hair, messing up his stylist’s two-hour hard work as he scoffed. “Did Gemma mention it in her letter?”

“No, I was there.” Winton sucked in a breath. “Your mother didn’t let me talk to you so I only came to watch the game and left afterwards. Y/N was there too, right? I saw her in the front row. She was wearing a shirt that said ‘Y/N heart Harry’. And she was the loudest.”

Harry’s jaw tightened as he chewed the inside of his cheek. As much as he wanted to believe Winton was lying so he could end this conversation and continue hating the man, he knew Winton couldn’t have made it up.

“She made that shirt herself,” he spoke, his voice was thick but less alarmed.

Winton’s face lit up with a smile as he put both hands on the shoebox. “That girl,” he said. “She really loves you.”

“We actually met in the treehouse,” Harry murmured. He wasn’t sure why he’d said that, but he just thought he should let him know.

“Oh, really?” Winton chuckled. “Your old man did something right after all.”

“Doesn’t matter. It fell last year in a storm,” was all Harry said, and nothing else.

The men stood silently in that long hallway. Harry’s five-minute break had probably ended already, but no one came to get him, so he assumed Jeff had asked for more time for him to talk to his father. He didn’t want to talk though. The best he could do now was to just listen.

“I’ve missed so much in your life,” Winton finally broke the silence as he stared at the shoebox. “I was far from perfect, I know. I’ve made many mistakes but I’ve paid for them by losing my wife and my legs...and--and the better life I could’ve had if I hadn’t screwed things up with your mum...I just--I’m trying to be a better man, I swear. But you’re not a little boy anymore. You’re successful and you don’t need me, and therefore I don’t expect you to take me back. But I hope you will forgive me. Gemma and your mother might not, but I hope you will. You don’t remember the terrible man I was so I guess...it’d be easier for you to see me as the man I am.”

When Winton finished, he patiently waited for a response. Harry refused to look him in the eye so he cleared his throat and said, “one more thing before I go.”

He then opened the shoebox he’d been carrying on his lap. Harry finally took a look, his forehead puckered as he saw what was inside.

“I bought you these football shoes when you made it to your school’s team,” said Winton as Harry picked up the shoes and ran his fingertips across the scorch marks. “Anne didn’t let me give them to you so I kept them. I lost almost everything in that fire but I’m glad I could save these. You obviously don’t need them anymore, but it makes me feel better to finally be able to give them to you.”

As Harry remained silent, Winton released a sigh. “I’ll go get Emi and we’ll leave.”

“Hang on,” Harry said as he put the shoes back in the box. “I’ll be done by twelve. Would you and Emilia want to have lunch with me?”

“He walked in and saw...and saw her...Wait, no. He entered the room and found her sitting on the floor. Okay, that’s better. Sitting...on...the...floor--”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck! Alice!”

The librarian shushed the girls as Alice pulled up a chair and sat down next to Y/N.

“I’m so fucking glad we’re not working for her anymore,” Alice said, faking a smile at the middle-aged lady who was still glowering at them.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that, Al!”

“Sorry, I’ve been looking for you all morning. I should’ve known you were here.”

Y/N shut her laptop right before Alice could read any sentence on the screen.

“Oh, come on!”

“You have to wait until it’s published, Al.”

“It’ll take forever!” Alice blurted and quickly covered her mouth when she received an unblinking glare from Y/N. “I mean...they have to edit and design the covers and print the books and plan a marketing campaign and all sorts of shit, right? That’s why it’ll take forever, not because I don’t believe in you.”

“Nice save,” Y/N snorted. “But my book kind of sucked so I’m rewriting the whole thing.”

“Gee, sounds like a lot of work.”

Y/N said nothing more about it as she gave a shrug. “Anyway, you were looking for me?”

“Yes!” Alice raised a finger, smiling from ear to ear. “Remember that girl Mandy? The one who took us to that nice club and you disappeared without a trace while everyone was having a great time?”

“Yes, I remember.” Y/N laughed, resting her chin on her knuckles.

“Yeah, well, she’s throwing a pool party this weekend and we’re both invited,” Alice said as she pulled out her phone and showed Y/N the text she’d just got. “She also sent you one but you didn’t respond so she texted me. Did you know that she’s like super rich? We’re officially the Kardashians on campus now. You’re Khloe and I’m Kim.”

“Why do you always get to be Kim?” Y/N laughed as Alice flipped her hair over her shoulder. “But I’m sorry, Kim, I’m busy this weekend.”

“Why? You’ve got plans with Harry?”

“No. I’ve got to finish the book before then.”

“You’re so obsessed with your book!” They both reached for the laptop but Alice got it first and moved it out of Y/N’s reach. “What would Harry say about this, hmm?”

“He’d say he’s so proud of me because he’s a supportive boyfriend.” Y/N smirked as she brushed Alice’s hand off her laptop to get it back. “But you should go to that party, don’t let me ruin it.”

“I definitely won’t. Have fun with your book, ya nerd.”

“Fuck you!” Y/N giggled and opened her laptop. “Now please give me some space to get creative, please?”

“There she is!” Alice said suddenly, pointing to the group of girls standing by the entrance. It was Mandy and two of her friends, and Y/N and Alice tried waving but those three didn’t look their way.

“I’m going over there.”

“For what?”

“To tell her I’m not going.”

“Good idea! Tell her I’m going though! Jesus!” Alice gasped when the librarian clutched her arm from behind and pulled her up.

“Strike two. You’re getting out of here, Alice!”

“Fine, I’m leaving! This is why we quit, Bethany!”

Y/N waved goodbye to Alice as the librarian dragged her outside. She prayed Alice wouldn’t get into any more trouble as she made her way toward Mandy. The girls were waiting in front of the librarian’s desk, all facing away so they didn’t see Y/N coming. She almost tapped Mandy on the shoulder to interrupt their conversation, but then she heard, “let’s hope she’ll bring Harry this time.”

The two other girls laughed as Y/N was frozen to the spot. Mandy had no idea, so she kept going, “she’s such a whore though. I bet she would suck any rich man’s cock and let them fuck her in the arse for some money. I can’t blame Harry and Isaac though. I mean, they’re men after all. They just want their dicks wet.”

Y/N cleared her throat and Mandy turned around, eyes wide with shock. Even though she was quick to cover it up with a smile, the colour soon drained out of her face.

“H-Hey, Y/N…”

“Hey.” Y/N faked a smile in return. “I just want to say I can’t make it to your party this weekend.”

“Oh, that’s all right. We’ll hang out next time then.”

“No, thanks.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I’d rather stay home sucking my boyfriend’s cock and letting him fuck me in the arse than hang out with you two-faced bitches.”

The girls dropped their jaws at the same time, but neither could say a single word for Y/N didn’t even give them a chance. “Do you really think you can bully me? I’d love to see you try. I eat rich spoiled brats for dinner. You might want to spread that rumour too.”

Y/N turned her heels and strutted back to her seat while Mandy and her friends were red-faced and tongue-tied. She didn’t give two shits about those girls. They couldn’t do anything to her. But her inspiration had evaporated and she couldn’t focus on writing anymore.

She blew out her cheeks and sent Harry a text.

Having a bad day! Need to talk to you :(

She waited for five minutes before sending another.

Call me when you’re free.

That should do, she thought, he’s probably busy.

But no matter how busy Harry was, he always found time to text her back or at least let her know he was busy. Something wasn’t right.

That afternoon, when Y/N came back to her block, she walked up the stairs with her eyes glued to her phone, still waiting for his reply. She’d tried calling once but he didn’t answer, and she didn’t want to call him again because she might be overthinking.

“Hey, T!” Blake’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked up and found him standing right outside his flat. He’d probably just got home. “Any update?”

“I’ve finished another chapter today,” she said, pulling out her keys. “Could’ve done two but I got distracted.”

Despite her weary frown, Blake didn’t stop smiling. “Can I read it later?”

“I’ll let you read the whole book when I’m done.” Her mouth twisted as she unlocked her door.

“Oh, okay,” Blake muttered and also opened his, but Y/N stopped him before he went inside.

“You’re making dinner?” Y/N asked, pointing to the grocery bag he was carrying.

“Yup. Do you cook?”

“Never.”

Her answer made him laugh. “So you eat out every night?”

“Not tonight though.” She pursed her lips. “I’ll just make instant ramen or order some pizza. I usually have dinner with Harry but he’s probably busy. I haven’t heard from him today. Don’t know where the hell he is.”

Blake only nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” he said. And both entered their flats at the same time.

It was 9 PM and Y/N still hadn’t eaten. Every time she sat down in front of her laptop and started typing, she would let reality fade away and the concept of time no longer existed in her world.

She didn’t remember how long she’d been working. Only when the doorbell rang, did she snap out of it and stand up to stretch her limbs.

“Harry? Is that you?” she asked from her bedroom door, but it couldn’t have been Harry. Harry would’ve said something to let her know it was him.

Before she could assume something as bad as the rat delivery incident, someone slid a note under her door.

“What now, Blake?” She snorted and came to pick it up. In Blake’s sloppy handwriting which hadn’t changed since high school, it said: come over if you’re hungry - B.

“Hey, B!” Y/N shouted as soon as she stepped into the hallway. The second her neighbour opened the door and poked his head outside, she showed him the note. “Explain this.”

“Well, I thought you might skip dinner again,” Blake said with a bashful smile. “You always forget everything else when you write.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, staring at her feet, “well, thanks but...I’ve eaten already.”

“All right. That’s good.” His lips curved into a smile, but she knew what his happy smile was and that wasn’t even close.

She hurriedly said goodnight and ran before he could say it back. She was starving, but she still had instant ramen in the kitchen so she’d probably survive. Her having dinner alone with Blake would have changed a lot of things, even if it had been a platonic meal. She wasn’t sure if he still had feelings for her, but she couldn’t risk it. It wouldn’t be fair to either him or Harry.

Speaking of Harry, where the hell is he?!

“Where were you yesterday?” Y/N asked as Harry stepped into her flat and kissed her on the cheek. He seemed more cheerful than usual, which was actually concerning.

She watched him plop down on the sofa, and was about to repeat the question when he said, “I was with Winton and my phone was dead.”

His answer froze her to the spot. She crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow. “Winton? Your dad?”

She just thought there being another Winton would have made more sense than him spending time with his actual father. But Harry didn’t look like he was joking as he gave a shrug.

“What were you doing with him?”

“We went out for lunch at first. Emilia was with us but she had to go back to the coffee shop for her shift,” he said as she walked over to sit on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Then he took me to this bar owned by a friend. We talked until it was very late. I had to call my bodyguard to pick me up as I got so fucking drunk and passed out as soon as I got home. I hate to admit it, but I actually had a good time.”

“That’s...great,” she said, smiling nervously as she placed a hand on his chest. “But baby, are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah, he’s actually not so bad. Can you believe he’d been to twelve countries when he was eighteen? And he used to play football for his university.”

Although Y/N wasn’t sure if Harry was making judgements with his head or his heart, she didn’t make any more comments. She just wanted him to be happy, and right now, he was.

“When are you gonna tell Gem and your mum?”

Harry leaned back against the couch and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know, but I feel like they’re gonna be so angry.”

“Don’t worry,” she told him, holding his face. “We’ll figure out how to talk to them.”

Harry nodded once and cupped her chin to attach their lips as he whispered into her mouth, “I read your text by the way. What happened?”

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“Yeah?” He smirked when she started toying with the buttons of his shirt. “Did someone bully my girl?”

“No one can bully your girl,” she said and licked his jaw, making him chuckle as he grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her away.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I already told you, love. I missed you,” she murmured and leaned back in, giving him a full open-mouthed kiss. He hadn’t even touched her skin and she’d already got her hand in his pants, squeezing and stroking his bulge.

“Can I have a taste?”

Her voice made him shiver. He nodded so fast his head could just fall off and he might not even care. She patted his bum, and he hurriedly lifted his hips for her to pull down his jeans. But before she could free his erection, the doorbell pulled them apart.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s Blake.”

“Fuck you, Blake—”

Y/N covered Harry’s mouth and shouted at the door, “give me a second!”

“What about me?” he asked when she got up and straightened her skirt.

“We’ll finish later,” she said, leaving him almost butt-naked on the couch.

Harry pulled up his pants and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling. He was cursing Blake for cockblocking him when the notification of a new message got his attention.

Gem: How was it?

His mouth set in a hard line as he read the text. Blake might not be his biggest problem after all.

What do you think? Do you trust Winton and Emilia? 🤔

#my girl series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fluff

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.48

Lance couldn’t wait for the day to be over. Matt was as passionate about technology as Pidge was, Pidge was living on his sofa because she missed her brother. Work had sucked and he actually had to make an appearance in Platt thanks to a case, which he hadn’t told Keith about yet, and Keith was still feeling the effects of drinking milk.

Dinner had been loud, Rieva and Shay had hit off, Lance learning more about her during dinner than he’d learned the whole week before. Hunk and Shay kept making “lovey” eyes over the dinner table, and he hadn’t been able to do the same with Keith. Pidge had teased him gently about getting faking sick to get Lance into bed, Keith had laughed it off, but hell, he was only kind of human and he’d really missed having Keith around the house. Curtis had tried to fill in on the role of kitchen hand, but he really didn’t get along with technology so it was easier for Lance to just do everything himself. Matt had peed on his death soil, while as a wolf, and Lance had felt he seriously deserved some major Keith time after cleaning that up. He hadn’t spent three months making it just for Matt to decide it smelt funny and needed his scent instead. Yeah. He was bummed that Keith wasn’t feeling well when he’d turned up, but he had scored pretty much a whole day of relaxing in bed as boyfriend slept it off. Keith couldn’t help that he was lactose intolerant, but of all the days he could have messed up, it really could have been the day that wasn’t coming over.

After dinner Pidge insisted on a games night... Lance just wanted to cuddle with Keith and pretend they weren’t keeping their relationship on the down-low, but Pidge wanted Keith to spend time with them before he left again... Keith was towed away by Pidge to the living room, Hunk and Shay staying to help with the dishes. He still proud as hell that Hunk had snagged Shay, and loved having Shay over. She came with great customer service stories, and was just so likeable that he’d wished he’d cornered Hunk into asking her out sooner. Yet he totally felt like the third wheel. At least when it was him, Curtis, Matt, and Rieva, he and Curtis both had each other to hang with. He’d gotten Curtis into teen rom-coms, the exhunter soon as invested in them as he was. And there was the fact Curtis had started to loosen up. He still pointed out things he didn’t need to, but things were moving more towards friendship rather than babysitting.

Pidge’s game night consisted of breaking up into three teams. Her, Shay and Rieva. Shiro, Hunk and Curtis . Him, Keith and Matt. Hooking her tablet up to the TV the first game was Pictionary, where they all failed miserably at using the stylus to draw. After five rounds, Pidge’s group claimed victory, which she was well and truly smug over. It totally wasn’t his fault that Keith and Matt were as hopeless as he was when it came to art. In his mind he knew everything he needed to do, but that didn’t translate to his drawings. Adding alcohol to the mix, they moved onto charades. Lance liked to think he was a pretty good actor, but somehow that was taken out by Shiro’s team, who’d definitely had found favouritism somewhere along the line as their prompts were much easier than everyone else’s. When Pidge got mischievous and suggested strip poker, Matt firmly noped out of that. Pidge instead setting up JackBox.

It was well after midnight before they headed up to bed. Keith acting nervous again. Sending his boyfriend to the bathroom to change, Lance changed into pyjamas before climbing into bed to wait for him. His anger loaf had loosened up, his competitive side showing that he didn’t take losing well. Spending the night with Keith and having fun was something he’d missed. Even when all they were doing was watching some lame movie, it was different when Keith was there. He’d never felt as pathetic as he did over the way he missed Keith in his adult life. Still, he was kind of proud that Keith seemed to be adjusting to living alone with Shiro again. Their apartment looked pretty nice, and Keith had sent him a photo of his bed with his new duvet cover. His boyfriend hadn’t been able to find a red one, so instead he had a black duvet cover with red pillow slips. It was very Keith, and only made him miss him more. Well aware of how pathetic he was acting, Lance tried not to snatch up his phone each time he got a new message from Keith. Trying to play it cool, while wanting to reply straight away. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he planned to tell Keith he’d gone into heat, he’d planned on telling him... just not that it’d happened more than once.

Lance was mortified the second time it happened. Matt and Rieva releasing pheromones before they’d gone to bed. Half an hour later the whole house was filled with the sounds of sex, leaving him feeling like a pervert as his body reacted. He’d washed and changed his sheets, yet Keith’s scent hung in the air, his body missing the way his boyfriend held him. He still found himself turning to say something to Keith only for him not to be there more than once. He couldn’t see why Keith was ashamed of being lactose intolerant, when being in a heat was far more shameful. He could only chalk it down to something happened, someone had said something and he hadn’t gotten over it.

Coming back into his room, Lance’s sweats he’d offered as pyjamas were too short for his boyfriend. The shirt a little tight, Lance blushing hard as Keith pointedly didn’t look at him

“Don’t say it”

“Nothing to say”

Nothing to say about the way Keith’s snail trail and hips were showing... There was something sexier about Keith in his clothes. He’d seen him naked and fuck... he had no words for that, but there was kind of an air of mystery when he was wearing clothes

“This is ridiculous”

What was ridiculous was how hot Keith was, even when he was sick

“Get into bed already”

“I can’t sleep like this”

“Then strip off... or at least take the shirt off”

Keith huffed as he did, and damn was Lance’s blood supply fast heading south. Being that grizzled and chiselled should have been illegal. Lance wasn’t in the mood to be fooling around with his boyfriend, not when Keith was ill, but damn if he didn’t want to touch him. Stifling down a groan, he knew if he continued on this train of thought, his stupid heat would pop its head up. Today was about Keith recovering, not him being a horny idiot with no filter on his mouth. He preferred the intimacy of cuddling, because at least then he had some experience in that area.

Climbing into bed with near him, Keith turned his back towards him. Lance didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t been mocking Keith. He’d just given him the first pair of clothes that he’d grabbed out his closet. Keith had been fine with cuddling him before, so why not now? Maybe he liked his own bed better and was regretting staying the night? Hunk and Shay had left. Pidge was downstairs becoming one with the sofa. Curtis was sharing a room with Shiro. Everyone was paying attention to everything other than them... so was Keith... being self conscious or had he said something and upset him without meaning too? He couldn’t think of anything he’d said wrong. Maybe Keith just didn’t want to spend the night next to him? That thought hurt. He was doing his best to get his life back on schedule around missing Keith. Crying wasn’t going to change the fact that Keith had his own job, which Lance wanted him to prioritise. Why was there this weird difference between them now? Rolling away from Keith, Lance pushed his face in his pillow. He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t know why he was making a big deal out of this. Keith probably still felt sick and didn’t want to cuddle because of it.

Laying in this awkward silence, Lance sniffled took loudly, drawing Keith’s attention to the fact he was crying. Feeling Keith move up behind him, his boyfriend slipped his arm around his waist. Lance hated that it took crying to draw his boyfriend’s attention, and he hated that he liked Keith cuddling him. He’d tried to downplay his concern over his boyfriend’s health because he really didn’t want Keith feeling self conscious. He wanted Keith to be able to relax when he came home... when he came back to Lance’s house.

“Hey, what is it?”

Keith asking made him feel infinitely worse

“It’s nothing”

“It’s not nothing”

“It is. Just tired. Long day and all. You better get to sleep”

Now he was brushing him off... why was he being so lame?

“Lance, talk to me”

“We’re talking”

“You’re crying”

“It doesn’t matter”

“Yes it does”

Why did Keith had enough to be so Keith like?

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you didn’t want to... I might just sleep downstairs tonight”

“What the hell? Where’s that coming from?”

“I just thought you might be happier up here alone”

“What the fuck?!”

Now Keith was mad at him. He didn’t know what he kept doing wrong. Keith made him forget how to think straight

“I didn’t mean to make you mad. I’ll go”

Taking Keith’s arm off him, Lance slid from the covers

“Lance!”

“I’m sorry”

Yeah. He was being a coward. They’d had fun as a group and now it felt like he didn’t know what to say and do to keep that mood between them. Grabbing up his robe, Lance fled from the room. Rushing down the hall and nearly falling down the stairs in his rush to hide his shameful side from Keith.

He would have fallen down the stairs if he hadn’t run smack into Shiro. The hunter letting out a grunt of surprise, as Lance quickly bounced back then moved to keep fleeing down the stairs

“Lance?”

Why was he being like this? Keith was leaving again tomorrow. Things had to stay good and normal until then...

As he reached his office, the first cramp hit. His stupid heat hitting as his head began to swim. It didn’t explain his less than stellar behaviour, but it’d definitely come on because of it. Shutting the door behind him, Lance locked it. All this thanks to Keith wanting to sleep on his side of the bed was pathetic. He was overreacting big time. He didn’t want to be like this with Keith. He needed to apologise to him.

“Lance, it’s Shiro, can we talk?”

Now wasn’t the time. The only person he should be talking to is Keith. He should be fucking begging him to forgive him... or fuck him. No. That was the heat. He didn’t deserve Keith forgiving him

“Now isn’t good!”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just vampire things!”

“If you’re in heat...”

What? He’d send Keith down to satisfy that burning desire bubbling inside of him?

“I’m staying in here!”

“Okay... okay, but if you need help...”

Oh god. No. He didn’t just want anyone. He wanted Keith. Shiro might be all tall and handsome, but he wasn’t Keith. He wasn’t the one he wanted to bend him over his desk and make him scream

“Shiro, now isn’t a great time! Thanks for concern”

“Okay... I guess I’ll see you in the morning”

“Yep, sure thing buddy. Sleep tight”

Lance flinched at his own lameness. Shiro would go straight to Keith. Keith would tell him he’d been a giant dick about things. Keith would be upset that he didn’t trust him enough to tell him. Falling in love wasn’t perfection. It wasn’t like in the movie. A kiss wasn’t an apology. A million roses wouldn’t be enough of an apology for what he’d done. His Mami had been so happy for them, but the truth was that Keith was in love with a monster... he was a monster who’d hurt Keith.

Keith had no idea what had happened. Lance hadn’t curled up around him. That was what his boyfriend usually did. He preferred holding Lance, but Lance liked holding him... and now Lance was crying and he didn’t know why.

Trying to stay away, Keith couldn’t. Lance obviously had something on his mind. But he preferred to clam up instead of talking to him. Sure, Keith was embarrassed. Lance’s clothes had been way too small. For a moment he’d wondered if it’d been a dig at him, until he told himself that Lance wasn’t like that. Maybe Lance thought he still felt sick? He did, but he’d thought they’d had fun... Kind of? Matt was a dumb smart person... and Lance had zero luck at drawing... Then they’d headed upstairs and Lance got weird... and he got weird. He’d slept all day and now they were going to bed again... That was a little weird? Or was he making too much out of it?

Heading out of Lance’s room, Keith shivered. He should have brought a blanket along, the house was bloody freezing. Tucking his hands under his armpits, he kept his steps light, not wanting to run into Shiro. Having zero luck, he ran into him on the bottom step of the stairs

“Fu-... Keith? Don’t do that”

Shiro clutched his chest. The old man was showing his age. Did people just not go to bed and stay in bed?

“What are you doing up?!”

“I was trying to go bed, then I ran into Lance”

“How was he?”

Shiro had seen Lance? He should have gone after him

“Crying. Did something happen?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I came down to ask”

“He’s locked himself in his office. You’re going to have to wait until morning, I think he’s in heat”

Keith shook his head. There wasn’t any scent when he’d l

“He wasn’t in heat when he left. Did you hear anything?”

“Only him trying to cover his crying. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah. I’ll talk to him. You head up to bed”

“You’ll be alright with him?”

Keith snorted, hoping to cover his nerves

“You left me with him all afternoon. I’ll be fine”

“If anything happens, get Matt”

“Yeah, yeah. Go to bed already”

“If he doesn’t want to talk, don’t push it tonight. We’re not leaving until the afternoon”

That was change in plans, but a welcome one. Keith assumed it was to do with the fact Shiro and Curtis had time to talk alone. Whatever, he had his own relationship to think of.

Knocking on Lance’s office door, Keith then pressed his ear against the wood. He could hear Lance crying

“Go away, Shiro. We’ll talk tomorrow”

“Wrong brother. Lance, open the door”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“No. I want to know why you apologised to me and why you wouldn’t stay and talk”

“Keith, not right now...”

“If I did something...”

“It wasn’t you. It was me... I’m sorry. I thought... I thought I made you mad... I’m sorry”

This was getting nowhere

“Just open the damn door”

The lock on the door clicked, Keith quick to grab the handle and turn before Lance could change his mind. Opening the door, his boyfriend’s scent smacked him, Keith barely had time to process before he had his arms full of a crying Lance

“I’m sorry. I was horrible and I’m sorry and I’m sorry... thought you were mad at me and I couldn’t work out what I did... and... I really want you to want me still, but I’m a monster who hurt you because you didn’t hug me when you got into bed”

Lance’s explanation came out in a panted mess. Keith kind of shocked that the action had reduced Lance to tears, and upset Lance was calling himself a monster again

“You usually like holding me... Hey, no. No more tears, it was a misunderstanding”

“I thought you must regret coming here because I can’t even hold your hand. I can’t kiss you... and...”

Pidge was bound to hear Lance crying and his scent was pungent enough that Matt and Rieva could smell it

“Come back up to bed with me”

“I can’t... I’m barely controlling myself as it is. Right now all I can think about is having you beneath me. I don’t want to rush things”

There was no pressure to rush, provided that didn’t include the rush of blood southwards in Lance’s tight sweats

“Hold onto me”

Lance was confused as Keith lifted him up. The vampire’s teeth scraping against his neck as Lance shook in his arms. They’d had a misunderstanding and Lance had stressed himself into this. This wouldn’t do.

Keith struggled up the stairs, but was determined to prove his point. By the time he got Lance back to his room he’d worked up a sweat. Getting Lance on the bed, Lance turned away from him as he gripped the blankets beneath him. He’d spend all night wanting to touch him. To kiss him. Hunk and Shay could be open and in love. They were taking it slow and without the complications but it was hard not to let it show. Keith hadn’t very social, taking a while to warm up to everyone during dinner, then they’d had a games a night and he still hadn’t been able to touch Lance. Now he finally had him alone again, he wasn’t sure what to do with him. Lance was in heat and Keith’s self control was slipping.

Pulling Lance onto his back, his boyfriend stared up at him with hooded glassy eyes

“I’m going to kiss you now”

Climbing between Lance’s long legs, he pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. Keith had been dying to do that all damn day. One kiss turned to another with ease, Lance’s teeth scraping his lip as his boyfriend rocked against them, the pair making out like the inexperienced idiots they were. Grinding against Lance felt more than good, it was like all the confusing stuff had been chucked out the window and it was just the two of them again. This wasn’t how their first time would go. Keith wanted that to be special, and not in a house full of their sleeping friends. Breaking the kiss, he kissed his way down to Lance’s Adam’s apple, nipping lightly at the smooth flesh. Moaning, Lance rocked his hips harder, clothes now in the way of him touching his boyfriend

“Shirt... off”

Lance moved to obliged, Keith eager to see him beneath the light of the bedside lamp. He loved Lance’s reactions. Loved his little gasps and moans. Everything was amped thanks to his heat, and he smelt incredible.

Lance grew shyer with his shirt off, Keith’s hands sliding across his torso

“What do you want, babe?”

“Babe” had slipped out, Lance was being extra careful with his teeth, normally he’d be biting his lip

“You...”

“How”

“I want you... I don’t care... just mess me up inside”

Keith felt himself smirk, Lance’s legs were still wrapped around him. Thrusting against his boyfriend’s grinding hips, Lance fisted the blankets beneath him as he moaned

“Is that what you want? Me to pin you down and make you come?”

Lance nodded quickly, eyes scrunched tightly closed as he fought to control himself. Keith didn’t know where his burst of confidence had come from... They couldn’t have sex... but there were other ways to have sex

“I want you to get your hands and knees for me. Put your hands on the bed head”

“K-Keith?”

“Let me touch you. I promise I won’t cross that line”

Lance got on his hands and knees as Keith asked. Settling himself behind his boyfriend, Keith pulled Lance’s pyjama bottoms and underwear down, before freeing his erection. He wasn’t sure how the mechanic were going to work, only that he had a vague idea

“Okay, sit back against me”

Lance did as he was told, wetness smearing across Keith’s dick as his boyfriend sat back. With a little manoeuvring, Keith slipped his dick between his boyfriend’s thighs, rolling his hips experimentally

“Fuuu...”

“Keep your thighs together for me”

Lance sitting for him wasn’t working the way he wanted. Moving to kneeling, it made it easier for Keith to slide between Lance’s legs, his boyfriend wet enough that he didn’t need lube. He may or may not have seen this in porn, and may have some reservations until Lance started moving, matching every thrust as he panted. Holding his boyfriend against him, when Lance turned for a kiss, Keith was quick to kiss back, drunk on that sweet smell and being with a man who truly cared for him. Broken kisses fell between the sharp hitching in Lance’s breathing, moving his hand, Keith gripped Lance’s erection lightly enough not to take control, but loosely enough that his boyfriend was fucking his fist. Shuddering, Lance came with a garbled kind of whimpering moan. Keith continuing until his own orgasm hit. Riding the waves of bliss, he pulled Lance down to sit in his lap as he came between his thighs. Moving from kissing, Keith nuzzled into Lance’s cheek, panting as his body shook

“Fuck... babe...”

Staying like that until they’d recovered, Keith pressed kisses to Lance’s cheek

“You okay?”

“I don’t know”

It was an honest answer. They’d both gotten into it and maybe a little carried. It wasn’t penetrative sex, but it was still sex

“Was that too much?”

Keith went into panic mode as Lance sniffled. Ignoring the mess and his pants around his knees, he pulled his boyfriend back so they were both sitting semi-properly

“Lance, talk to me?”

“My heat...”

He sounded so guilty

“It’s okay”

“It’s not... you’re sick...”

“Not as sick as I was”

“I... I was so mean to you”

“You weren’t”

“I was. I was horrible to you and you... I wanted to take care of you but... I got all worked up and acted so rude. I just wanted to cuddle”

Keith’s heart fell

“You didn’t want to do this?”

“I want to be able to do with you without my heat”

“Lance, it’s okay”

“It’s not... I feel like I’m going crazy. I miss you so much. I keep going to talk to you and you’re not there and I wanted to have a normal night but my body can’t even settle down... I really like you. I like you so much”

Could Lance be any nicer?

“I’ve missed you too. I’m so angry at myself for wasting our time together sleeping. I was looking forward to today. Then I got sick, and you got your heat... but you know, we did look after each other. And it’s kind of natural that I want to touch my boyfriend”

Lance’s scent had lessened since coming, but was still there. He knew his boyfriend’s stomach had to hurt with craps similar to his earlier ones

“I just... want to be normal with you”

“I think normal went out the window a long time ago. Have you met our friends?”

Lance snorted wetly as he nodded

“Yeah... yeah. I’m sorry. I think my ego was sad you didn’t cuddle me”

“I wanted to. All night I wanted to”

“Me too. Can... can we clean up and cuddle?”

Lance definitely felt nice in his hold, he might just have to fight his boyfriend for the right to be the big spoon. Kissing Lance’s shoulder, Keith then nodded

“That sounds good to me”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid

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spookyboogie3 · 4 years

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MY FAVORITE AH MOMENTS W/O R*an H*yw**d

Also keep in mind some of these moments i picked Bitch Face r*an may have been present for but this aint about his stupid ass.

The straw bit on Off Topic

Fiona and Trevor’s “Look at us” “Look at us” “Look at us” in TTT

Drunk Jeremy inhaling helium, followed by Jack and Trevor on Off Topic

“Krusty KrAYAYAB!!!” TTT

Jeremy trying to slam his face through a table, followed by Michael doing the same thing

“my god…… the munchdew” “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!” Minecraft: Skyfactory

Actually all of Simple Farmer Geoff from Skyfactory

Whatever those sounds were that Jack was making in the beginning of GTA video

Alfredo screaming as he continues to fall down a steep tube in a GTA race

DESTROYING THEIR OFFICE DEAR LORD

“How did he drown though?” “UNDERWATER, MATT!”

Anytime Fiona starts to RAGE in TTT (bonus if others join in)

The time Gav was the phantom in TTT and he kept dying and being brought back and Jack spitting water and then trying to catch it

Alfredo’s Magoo moments in Minecraft

Geoff laughing in the background of a video hes not in

Lindsay fucking around with Chef Mike on Harecore Minigolf

Lindsay fucking around in general

Gavin and Fiona playing Animal Crossing and laughing at the stupidest shit

The Fish Tempura incident on Wheel of Fortune

Lindsay’s reasoning for why her and Michael should have 4 kids

Geoff’s fucking ad reads (my favorite is 23&Me)

The whole thing during Push the Button where everyone especially Michael gets mad at Fiona because she said the best candy to get while trick or treating was lollipops

Matt’s fucking desk in the corner of the room

Anytime Millie is in a video

Everyone falling off the pink ladder during TTT and dying repeatedly because of it

Alfredo “the two-time champ” Diaz dying very early in YDYD 3

Gavin and Michael fucking up almost every game they play on Play Pals

RAY OR NO and then RAY OR NAY on Off Topic

Reddit Roasts Geoff

Gavin asking if someone could kill 20 cows with their bare hands and the proceeding so say he could rip out a cow’s veins by reaching into its neck

Ify’s narration during Let’s Roll Ave Caesar

The internet losing its shit when Jeremy shaved his head years ago

“We need a knife” Gavin comes back with a hammer

Griffin chain sawing the Off Topic table up

“How do I put the boat in the water??” “Right click you animal”

As of 2020, 8 years of playing Minecraft, certain people still do not know how to play the basics of this fucking game.

Honestly it took over 200 episodes for some of them to figure out how the compass worked. You know after they decided that the sun was setting in the wrong direction. (this was in 2016??)

Flynt coal still is a joke they make

So is Day 2

Whatever happened in that GTA lets play where someone called a mugger or a hit on someone and the game glitched and 50 guys showed up and lined up on the street below from where they were playing

Anytime Gavin gets mugged, it’s an old running gag but it’s a classic

The time a mugger fucking started driving the fire truck away after mugging Gavin with Michael and Jeremy still in the truck thinking the other is driving and it takes them like 2 minutes to realize what happened while Gavin’s yelling “come back”

They got a water jug and immediately started water boarding each other

“It pinged and went dingle”

“Hey Trey-Boi” “Hey Gay-Boi” Immediately realizes what he has said

Jeremy’s website puns

(OLD) Ray jerking off in the corner during a let’s play

(OLD) the world in Minecraft never loading and everyone screaming about as Geoff says its fine for him

Jeremy’s “I AM MONSTER TRUCK”

Jack taking AH to Disney……in Minecraft

On Twitter, Gavin asked about recommendations for a computer mouse and Fiona starts sending him pictures of actual mice.

“Its not ghey, if its on the moon”

Literally anything Fiona does as Po

Jeremy saying the heterosexual flag is boring

UNO THE MOVIE!

Geoff fucking cackling the whole time.

“here’s looking at you kid”

the video was almost 3 hours long

“you know what my favorite color is? blue” “oh really? You know what my favorite hand is? Yours

They all want it to end but no one wants to lose and so they fuck each other and that prolongs the game. Also they put on more rules, so they just keep getting more cards if they don’t have a card to match the previous

Alfredo saying he won’t participate in ghost hunter because he knows what happens to people of color in horror movies

Fiona walking in on Off Topic with a protein shake and Gavin asks if shes drinking milk and she says without missing a beat “ah no that’s cum” and everyone laughed not expecting the answer

(OLD) “SURPRISE MOTHERFUCKER” *falls in hole*

(OLD) Ray and Gav running in a panel dressed as X-Ray and Vav and Ray running the whole way around the room before he got to the stage

Duck taping Jeremy to the wall

(OLD) All of Minecraft Episode 3 Plan G (This was the very first AH video I watch and why I know who they are)

Geoff and Gav creating Achievement City and giving everyone houses just to prank Jack into burning house down with lava.

Ray’s house is a dirt block with no furniture and single torch

Geoff’s giant ass house next to Ray’s tiny house

Jack tries to destroy everything with lava throughout the episode

“lets be honest, I realistically didn’t lose anything”

Michael stealing art from Gav’s house “NOO! I want nice things”

The sign to Michael’s says “Awaiting Approval, Awaiting Approval, Awaiting Approval” he runs into house and say “I’m home”

Ray also steals this sign at some point

Plan G – The failsafe.

“Oh whats this? Is this a button? Whats this? (pushes button) Yeah it was a button”

“Did you push the button?”

“Yeah”

“okay”

“wh-what does it do?”

“uh…”

Cue Achievement City beginning to explode as Michael starts screaming

Rays reaction “NO, MY SHITTY HOUSE JUST GOT EVEN SHITTIER!”

Not something funny but something VERY IMPORTANT. AH admitting that they all fucked up and how shitty their behavior was when dealing with harassment in the fanbase. People were racist, sexist, homophobic, misogynistic, and just downright horrible to a lot of the employees at RT and AH. This came up after Mica Burton left the company and talked about it publicly and how nothing was done about it. Fiona who also experiences these same things, along with Lindsay and other employees, but Fiona took the charge on the Off Topic talking about people can’t continue to get away with that behavior. She got to sound off her feelings to a group of white men who all respected her and LISTENED to what was saying and how she felt. She cried; Geoff cried. They all want to do more, so this doesn’t happen in the future and they’re not tolerating the racist and horrible comments. AH taking a mature moment to talk about how they failed to stop these comments and Geoff was right when he said the company has a long way to go.

Outside of AH each member has more to them than just all of the comedy and laughs and dumb shit they do

Geoff helped found Roosterteeth and Achievement Hunter. He has a beautiful daughter in Millie who is awesome in her own right. He’s a recovering alcoholic. Currently doing F**k Face podcasts. Was in the fucking army. Takes accountability for every mistake he makes.

Jack also helped start Achievement Hunter. He does so much work for charity. His twitter is full of things to help people go vote. He’s like the dad to AH, especially Fiona. He’s happily married to his wife Caiti.

Michael was an electrician and has a lot of handy man experience. He made a few videos online about him raging at games and that got the attention of RT. He’s currently married to Lindsay who he met because of RT. They have two kids together.

Gavin is an expert at high speed filmmaking and know how use and edit footage from a slow-motion camera. He has worked on actual films. One of the creators of the Slow Mo Guys. Worked his ass off to get to work for RT. Currently dating model and cosplayer Meg Turney

Lindsay flips between being the mom of the group and a complete chaos queen and we all love her for it. She started as an editor for the RT podcast and then AH stuff. She is an incredible voice actor, most known for Ruby Rose (RWBY), Space Kid (Camp Camp), Hilda (Xray & Vav) just to name a few. She also has a degree in finance

Jeremy started as a fan who made videos on the community page. He took over Ray’s place after Ray left to do Twitch full time. He is a self-published author and a skilled rapper and singer. He’s currently married to his wife, Kat.

Matt also started as a fan making videos on the community page. He actually interacted and made stuff for the guys in really early Minecraft episodes. Seriously this guy is like king of Minecraft. He has a degree in electrical engineering. He also has pretty decent singing voice.

Trevor is THE BOSS. Has a degree in aero-space engineering and is getting paid to babysit AH. Currently dating Barbara Dunkelman, RTs queen of puns.

Alfredo worked at IGN before RT and is a well-known streamer. He is the best when it comes to first person shooter games. He and Trevor look so similar.

Fiona. Po. Her majesty. Host of This Just Internet. A Twitch streamer. Baby of the bunch. Grew up in Europe. Her and Gav act like a pair of siblings. She has stated and showed time and time again she will fight for people to have safe spaces for anyone who needs them.

Ify, our new guy. He is wonderful and I want to stay forever. He’s a comedian, a writer, and an actor. Co hosts F-ing Around with Fiona. Has his own film podcast, Who Shot Ya? I look forward to more content with him in it, cause everything he’s been in so far has been great.

Were all hurting but well make it through this

We have all these wonderful moments and a lot more that I didn’t list and this incredible team of personalities with their own accomplishments and achievements. Not to mention old team members who were also great additions and the entire crew behind the scenes editing and making videos look the best that they can.

Here’s to Achievement Hunter and to this community. We need to be here for each other in times like these.

@theonyxranger gave me the idea for this based on their own post they made about the fans giving their favorite moments without bitch face and there were just too many. Oop.

#Achievement Hunter #Jack Pattillo #Gavin Free #geoff ramsey #michael jones #lindsay jones #alfredo diaz #trevor collins #fiona nova #jeremy dooley #matt bragg #ify nwadiwe #roosterteeth #yes im calling him bitch face now

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luninosity · 4 years

Text

Working on the last (?) Character Bleed bonus story, today...

James Parr, clutching six bottles of wine, stared at the door. He hadn’t knocked or rung the bell yet, partly because of the armful of wine and partly because he was busy telling himself to remember to breathe.

The door gazed back, pale blue and noncommittal. Maybe it didn’t approve of his choice of shirt, or his hair, or his sudden complete panic. What if Colby Kent’s door didn’t approve of him?

He shifted weight, did not turn and flee, and murmured, “Knew I should’ve worn the blue shirt…”

He didn’t know why he was here. More accurately, he knew why he’d come: Colby and Jason Mirelli had extended an invitation for dinner. And no one in any sort of right mind would turn down that invitation. Between Colby’s sweetness and Hollywood power, as movie star and writer and producer, and Jason’s muscles and family legacy, interwoven with the whole history of the industry, anyone would say yes; they might also say yes out of sheer curiosity, as Colby tended to be adorable and precious but private, and any glimpse inside was an honor.

Also, industry legend said that Colby was a genius cook, and Jason wasn’t half bad either. James’s stomach suggested pointedly that he go ahead and knock.

He couldn’t. He just…couldn’t. Could he?

He knew they’d asked him. He didn’t know why him, why they’d taken an interest, what’d prompted the invitation. He’d never even met Jason, though they’d been at the same events on occasion; he had met Colby, briefly, during the auditions for Steadfast. James winced, remembering.

He’d wanted the role of Stephen, as quite a few people had, and he’d been lucky enough to get a call to come in. Colby Kent was non-negotiable as Will, obviously, as producer and—though the world hadn’t known it yet—scriptwriter. James had done the scene with Colby, and it’d been a gorgeous scene, lush and clever and full of first meeting anticipation on a balcony. He thought he’d done all right, but he also knew he hadn’t been quite right; he’d wondered even then. Colby was so very good—the awards attested to that—and had balanced Will’s privilege and sarcasm with delicate unexpected vulnerability, and James had possibly been just a little too flirtatious, treating Stephen’s lines about choices with not quite enough weight. He’d hoped he’d get a chance to do it again for real; he could take director’s notes readily, with humor and without argument.

He hadn’t had the chance, of course, because Jason Mirelli had walked out of formulaic action-hero thrillers and right into Stephen’s Royal Navy boots and also into Colby’s heart. Jason had shown the world that he was brilliant, and James knew he’d been the right choice; everyone knew. No resentment possible, not with that performance. Only admiration.

He’d be seeing Colby again tonight. If he managed to knock on the door. He did some more silent communing with it. That wasn’t the only reason for his nerves.

Jason, on the phone, had said casually, “Oh, there might be four of us, you know my friend Evan, he’s been the stunt choreographer on all your superhero movies, yeah? He’s in town too, so he might drop by, if that’s cool with you.” And James had squeaked out some sort of embarrassing high-pitched affirmative, and collapsed back against his front door, because he’d just walked in from the gym when Jason had called.

Evan. Evan Richards. Who had, yes, been orchestrating and choreographing and training everyone for all those stunts, for all four films so far. Who was devastatingly competent and patient and gorgeous in every conceivable way, as far as James could tell. Who was, in fact, the man James’s pathetic heart had fallen head over heels for, literally, because he’d walked in to meet their choreographer and learn the first-ever set of moves for his super-soldier character, and then he’d tripped right over a mat, because holy shit the muscles and the motion, fluid and flexible and fast and smooth as silk, on display and glorious…

Evan, who’d been practicing some more complicated moves that he himself would be doing as James’s double, had spun around and run over and been at his side in a flash. Had held out a hand, while James sat on the floor and stared up at strength and power and big brown eyes and, oh god, dimples.

Evan Richards was kind to everyone, even actors who forgot their own names while ogling him. Evan when not working on a film taught Krav Maga and self-defense classes at a local LA place, and offered classes for all levels and ages. Evan never seemed to be upset about anything, not even when someone hadn’t practiced enough or wasn’t getting a move; he’d just calmly explain it all again, with demonstrations, without making anyone feel guilty or inadequate. Evan tended to look at life that way, with calm good humor and excitement about challenges; he possessed a level of self-discipline that James’s impulses could only dream about, from morning workouts to the literal three alcoholic drinks James had seen him consume in nearly six years to consummate professionalism on set, but he managed all that in a laid-back sort of way, never judging anyone else for different decisions, which was good, because James himself had very definitely made some terrible ones regarding vodka and fluffy pink feather dusters, on occasion.

Evan made all their movies better; he made James’s life better, and James’s heart had never recovered from that first tumble into pink billowing clouds. He’d thought it might; he’d thought it would get better, with time and Evan’s apparent lack of need to stare at him in turn.

Nearly six years in, it hadn’t.

He’d tried flirting with Evan. James knew he personally wasn’t some sort of heaven-sent sculpture of male athleticism, definitely not compared to Evan in a clinging super-suit. But he thought he was reasonably attractive—thick dark hair, blue eyes, good chin, what an ex had called “that wholesome young Superman look”—and he was pretty good at sex, and he was—he hoped—a decent guy to have around. That might be something Evan liked, right?

He’d always loved falling into bed with friends, making people happy, any and all genders welcome, sometimes all at once. He could be, and had been, up for just about anything, and he liked people who were enthusiastic and kind and confident about what they wanted and liked. He’d thought, well, if he’s interested—I’m interested, and maybe—

He really had tried. Complimenting Evan’s skill. Complimenting Evan. Asking Evan out for dinner—not drinks; James had noticed that—which had gotten a yes, but a complete and baffling immunity to flirtation over excellent sushi, as if Evan thought he really just wanted to be friends. Learning some good massage techniques and offering to give Evan a backrub had led to, well, him giving Evan a backrub, on set, both of them fully clothed, and Evan had thanked him after. Pretending to not understand a tricky bit of choreography had worked to the extent of getting Evan’s hands on him, but they’d been profoundly professional hands, and James had finally given up and pretended to get it at last.

After that one he’d gone back to his co-star’s trailer, flung himself dramatically across her couch, and despaired, “What am I doing wrong? Is it me? Am I unlovable? Elizabeth, help me.”

Elizabeth, who’d known him for years, had moved his legs, sat down, and patted his hip. “To be fair, darling, you’re kind of a slut. Perhaps he’s not into that.” In that amused years-faded English accent, the affection shone.

“I am,” James had said, “but I just like making people happy. I want to make him happy. How do I make him happy?”

She’d patted him some more. “Perhaps don’t throw yourself at him quite so hard? He might be shy.”

James, who’d seen Evan welcome a new pair of stunt guys to set by running over and immediately diving into a recreation of the famous fight scene from the third John Kill movie, which both guys had jumped right into while grinning, had said doubtfully, “I don’t think so…”

“Perhaps he’s not in fact into men?”

James had sighed. And had drunk far too much of his hotel’s mini-bar, later that night; had winced at sunlight, on set, and had opened eyes to discover Evan holding out Gatorade and painkillers and a protein bar.

He really had given up, or mostly. Stopped trying to flirt. Dated a couple other people, not seriously. Started trying to get used to being a friend, resigning himself to making Evan happy that way.

He’d noticed that Evan liked travel and exploring new locations; James had made sure to do some research and to mention historic sites or local marketplaces or neat old castle walls they were allowed to ride bikes on. Evan had an astonishing sweet tooth for someone with those abs, and James found a tiny ice cream shop in Prague that deserved every bit of its reputation and brought him there, and loved the way Evan’s eyes lit up and the way Evan wanted to try every flavor and the way Evan licked a sample spoon.

He’d wanted to hold Evan’s hand, walking back to their hotel along medieval cobbled streets under a low-hanging moon. He’d wanted, and he knew he was still and maybe always would be in love; he knew that like a stab to the heart. It felt like the moonlight and tasted like cookies-and-cream, sharp and sweet.

He’d called Evan after they’d wrapped, after they’d all come back home to LA. He’d tried not to. Not being pushy or needy. He’d made it three days. He’d just wanted to hear that voice, calm and happy, talking about an upcoming martial arts class or ideas for changing up some heroic choreography. Evan had answered promptly, and they’d talked for two hours before Evan had headed to bed, having an early morning. After, James had started looking up the address of a secret jazz-themed speakeasy he remembered—they had a good non-alcoholic cocktail menu, too, and to-die-for chocolate cake, and spot-on historic recreation—because he thought Evan might like it, and then he remembered that they weren’t actually dating and they weren’t on location and Evan had no reason to put up with his company day after day.

He sighed again, in the present. Clung to wine. Tried not to drop any. Evan might be here and see it.

He hadn’t managed to knock, but the door opened anyway. James almost took an inadvertent step back, because muscles, but caught the reaction in time.

“Oh, good,” Jason Mirelli said, grinning at him, “you’re right on time. And you brought, like, all the wine. Here, I can take those.” Boulders shifted and mountains bulged; the sleeves of Jason’s shirt stretched outward in forest-green despair as big arms collected all of James’s offerings. “Come on in.”

James shook himself out of fascinated speculation about how Jason ever hugged Colby without crushing adorable blue-eyed slender height. “Um. I didn’t know what you, um, liked? So I just…brought a lot of things?” Good god. He was an actor, a successful veteran of press and publicity tours, and a grown man of thirty-two years. Surely he could talk. “Thanks for, um, inviting me? I mean…yeah. Thanks.”

“Hey, we’re fans. We’ve loved all the Star Captain movies.” Jason sounded sincere, too. Honesty in craggy features, deep velvet-brown eyes. Casually upending the world: in what universe were Colby Kent and Jason Mirelli fans of James Parr? “By the way, Evan’s already here.”

#character bleed #bonus scenes #fic in progress #soon

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