#kingsman crossover fic

[castrian-amore]

DC x DP x Kingsmen

(This is the most niche thing ever but I love it sm and am not sorry)

Danny was recruited an unknown agency but they promise him one thing if he accepts: train the newbies and do his job. In turn they promise him global protection. Protection from the world powers, the JL, the GIW and a chance to expand upon his current skill sets.

The JL are at a loss by just finding out about this organization having slipped under their noses. At the dapper dressed but obviously incredibly skilled fighter in the middle of the Watch tower.

“You know I didn’t think the doomsday protocol would lead me here…”

“Where are you from?”Batman presses. The man gives a fanged smile offering a hand.

“I’m from Kingsman.”

“The tailors?!?”Barry exclaims. The man only gives a nod.

“The very same.”

[wardenparker]

Win a Date with Javi G, part 1

Javi Gutierrez x female reader x Jack Daniels Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 15.9k   Warnings: Cursing. Food/alcohol. Pure fluff and flirting. A little dirty talk/dirty flirting toward the end. Summary: You and your best friend are huge fans of Spanish pop star Javi G, and she managed to convince you to enter a contest to win a date with the singer himself. No one is more surprised than you when you actually win. ✨🎶🥰 Notes: Hey Guys! It's my birthday! To celebrate, Keri and I conceived of this little one shot that turned into a smutty, kinky, fluffy two-parter and I hope you love it as much as we do. For all the folx out there who remember the movie "Win a Date with Tad Hamilton", you'll recognize the inspiration right away -- and reader's hometown is inspired by the waterfront town from "Bob's Burgers". We're all over the map here! Special shouts also to my darling @julesonrecord for imaging how much glitter Eurovision Pop Star Javi G would actually be covered in at every show.

Your eyes are on the verge of crossing when the phone rings, books spread out on your desk in your home office and countless tabs open on your laptop as you try to piece together this bit of research to send off to your bosses on deadline. You almost let the call go to voicemail, too absorbed in this odd passage from an even odder book, but something inexplicable tells you to answer it. The call is Private, the word splashed across your screen as it continues to ring, and your cat meows curiously when she jumps up into your lap as you hit the green button to accept. “Hello?”

Jack tilts the handset for his desk phone against his shoulder and enjoys the sound of the voice on the other end. It sounds attractive, being in the business long enough, you can tell by a voice if the person is gonna be a looker. “Howdy ma’am.” He greets you and then says your name. “Is it a convenient time for a talk?”

Howdy? You make a face instinctively, wondering why you've got a cowboy calling you in the middle of the day. Probably a telemarketer, but what the hell. You've got time. Your cat meows again and you sit back in your chair to let her settle into your lap to be pet while you're on the phone. "Sure," you say after a moment. "What can I do for you?"

“Jack Daniels ma’am.” He introduces himself with a grin as he twists in his ergonomic chair and looks at the poster that is plastered up on his wall for the upcoming world tour. “I’m the CEO of Statesman Talent Agency.” He hums. “And I’m callin’ concerning a little contest that you entered. ‘Win a Date with Javi G’? Does that ring a bell?”

"Oh!" Shooting up straight in your chair almost tips your sweet cat onto the floor but you manage to recover and hold onto her. "Uh–yeah, yes. Of course." Entering the contest had been a whim. A decision made after too much wine and giggling with your best friend. Spain's Eurovision winner Javi G was trying to break out in America and you had loved the album he released - as well as everything he had put out in Spain that you had hunted down on the internet. Your best friend had been able to talk you into entering after about the millionth watching of his winning Eurovision performance. You definitely didn't think you would actually get a call about it though.

“Good, good,” Jack chuckles as he takes his boots off his desk and leans forwards. “I’m tickled pink to inform you that you have won our little contest.” He tells you. “You will be flown out to L.A. to accompany Javi to the Grammys as well as the Universal Music Group after party.” He rambles. “Hotel and your dress will be provided of course.”

"I—"You almost hiccup, the disbelieving laughter coming out of you right away. "Seriously?"

“Now ma’am, my momma would whoop me if I was leadin’ a young lady on.” Jack grins at your reaction, imagining you are about to start dancing. “We do need to be discussin’ some of the particulars. The NDA and the legal-ese stuff the blaster lawyers like to prattle on about.” He hums. “Plus we need to film your ‘official’ win for the announcement. Are you gonna be free next week?”

"I–um–yes, sir, I am." There's no fucking reason in the world to have called him sir, but the cowboy thing just sinks into your brain and the manners pop out by accident. "I work from home and my availability can be made flexible." Having a conventional job for unconventional employers has its benefits.

“Good, that’s good, darlin’.” Jack might get shit for his sometimes seemingly sexist way of speaking, but it’s not often. “I’ve got your information right here in front of me and will be sendin’ you an email.” He promises. “Congratulations.”

"Thank you very much, Mr. Daniels." There, that's more appropriate. It doesn't help that you're nearly vibrating in your chair and about three seconds away from laughing so hard you scream. "I look forward to hearing from you."

“Real soon, darlin’” Jack hangs up the phone and hums, your social media account pulled up and he’s looking at a picture of you. “She’s gonna be perfect.” He predicts with a grin.

As soon as you hang up the phone you're a giggling mess, hugging your cat and giving her all the scratches in the world as she looks at you with distinct concern. Immediately pulling up your best friend’s contact info to call her, you're not taking no for an answer – tonight is going to be takeout and a bottle of wine and celebrating. For a girl who has never won anything before, this is a very big first.

******

Four days later, Jack sighs as he walks down the stairs of the G5 he had flown to your closest airport. Squinting at the light, he’s delighted to find the car waiting for him. The little perks of having an international talent agency often outweighed the long hours and constant ass kissing.

“Thirty minute drive, Mr. Daniels.” The driver tells him when he opens the rear door to let the man climb into the nondescript black SUV. “Not much traffic this time of day.”

“Is there a lot a traffic…ever?” Jack asks, far too used to L.A.’s horrendous traffic in the years he has spent living there. It makes a normal town seem positively quaint.

“People still have to get to and from work.” The driver shrugs and closes the door, only opening his mouth again when he climbs behind the wheel. “Town’s Art Crawl is this weekend, so it’ll get busy fast.”

“Art Crawl?” Jack would normally be on his phone, answering emails but the driver has piqued his curiosity. “What is that?”

“The restaurants and businesses down on the wharf by the theme park all display art by local artists,” the man explains as he heads for the highway. The address he was given is an apartment on Ocean Avenue, so he isn’t worried about finding it. That’s just downtown. “It’s a fundraiser for I-dunno-what. People buy the art and can donate to whatever the cause is at raffles and things. Always brings in the crowds, though.”

Jack hums. “Interesting.”

“Town’s got a lot of good stuff goin’ on.” The driver continues. Having a captive audience suits him. “Just had a big party at town hall for New Years. Community theater is opening a show this weekend. More Art Crawl stuff.”

“Hmmmm.” Jack reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone. Maybe Seymour’s Bay isn’t quite as small town U.S.A as he had imagined it to be. “Sounds like this place has some culture.” He says, opening his mail. “You like Javi G?”

The driver glances in his rear view mirror. He was given a name, a time, and an address and nothing else. Now this guy in a Stetson is asking him about some pretty boy pop singer? “Can’t say I’ve heard much,” he says with a shrug. “That’s the kind of stuff my fifteen-year-old daughter listens to.” 

“He is going to be touring in the U.S. in the next three months.” Jack tells him, glancing up from his email for a moment. “Tickets go on sale next Monday.” If there’s anything that Jack Daniel’s excels at, it’s promoting his clients. Even if it’s to his driver for the day.

“Yeah?” The man makes a huffing sound, like the wheels in his head needed some extra oomph to get moving. “It’s her birthday soon…”

“Nothing better than tickets for her and her two closest friends to see the concert of the year.” He reaches into his pocket and and pulls out a card. “If you want to really impress her, call that number and my secretary can set you up with VIP passes for a fair price. Meet and greets.”

The rest of the car ride passes with some grateful squawking from the driver and the usual questions about what it’s like to work for celebrities, and by the time the man pulls the car up in front of the big brick building on Ocean Avenue that houses a florist shop on street level and an apartment up above, he probably should have talked himself silly. Instead he pulls the back door open with a beaming smile and waits for this client to exit. “This is it,” he says, excited for whatever is happening that he doesn’t know about. But excited nonetheless.

“Thank you.” Jack nods as he looks at the neat, well kept building. He steps out of the back of the vehicle and reaches for his briefcase, filled with the paperwork that would serve as the agreement for the contest.

The agent’s arrival time was listed in the email you got last night, and you have been hustling all week long to make sure that your apartment is spotless for his arrival. Putting way too much thought into everything as usual, there are tons of drink choices in the fridge, an entire painstakingly assembled charcuterie platter to offer, and a box of macarons from the bakery down the street that makes the best sweets in the entire world. Even Pyewacket is behaving, just lazing happily in a patch of sun on the arm of your leather sofa. You’re dressed decently, styled like an actual adult, everything is perfect. So when the buzzer for your door sounds, you take a deep breath before you answer without panicking. “Coming!” You chirp through the speaker and head straight downstairs.

He waits, looking around the street and peers into the shop to see the bouquets that are on display. They are beautiful, someone with a skilled hand put them together. It’s ideal honestly and he can already see how the promo’s for the advertisement for Javi’s tour will go.

When the back door to the building opens and you step out, you have to hold back a small giggle at first. There’s a man in a Stetson with a Burt Reynolds mustache peering in the shop window right beside your beaten up little car and you clear your throat politely. “Mr. Daniels?”

Seeing you in person, it's even better than your social media page. Your smile is bright, almost irresistible. He reaches up and sweeps his hat off his head and smiles his most charming smile while he says your name. "It is surely a pleasure to meet you."

The features that you noticed from a distance are the least consequential as the man turns to greet you and aims a smile at you that’s brighter than the sun. Oh god, he’s handsome… “It’s really nice to meet you, too.” You put your hand out automatically, meaning to be polite, and motion to the shop beside you. “Beautiful, right? My sister does great work.”

"It’s your sister's shop?" He asks, glancing back over to the window and then back to you. When you nod, Jack grins and straightens up. "Fine work," he praises. "Probably better that most shops that I've seen charge a thousand dollars a setting."

“She ships long distance and does all kinds of special arrangements.” You tell him, puffed up with pride for your hardworking big sister. “I have her card upstairs, and you should pop in before you leave town. Bring something back to your wife or whoever’s at home.”

"No wife." He shakes his head and winks at you. "Yet." He doubts he would ever marry, his life not exactly conducive to having a little lady putter around the house. "But I know that I send flowers all the time to clients and associates."

“I’ll make sure you leave with Kate’s card, then.” Nodding toward the building, you can’t avoid the little shiver that wink gave you, as silly as it is. “Would you like to come up?”

"I never turn down a pretty lady inviting me upstairs." Jack hums, enjoying the way you seem to fluster. You will look amazing on Javi's arm at the Grammys but that doesn't mean that he couldn't flirt with you and pay you a compliment or ten.

It’s just one flight of stairs that opens into your little place, but the meowing is immediate when your black cat pops out of nowhere and starts inspecting the new arrival. “Pyewacket, be nice to Mr. Daniels,” you instruct, giving her fur a ruffle on your way through the living room. “Can I offer you a drink? Something to eat?”

Jack eyes the fluffy black cat as if he might get attacked and edges past it. Never been a cat man, although it seems to be staring at him judgmentally. "I'm good with a drink." He accepts with a nod and looks at the small dining room table. "Perhaps we can go over the contracts and disclosures here?" He asks.

“Of course.” After going through the drink options you end up pouring two glasses of iced tea and setting them down on the clean table. “I understand the basics. Don’t talk about private things that I might see or hear, and to make sure I actually show up at the appointed time and place or legal action can be taken against me.”

"Right." Jack grins, reaching into his briefcase to pull out the paperwork. "There's also a little disclaimer that any and all sexual activity happens with consent of both parties." He winks at you again and shrugs. "Just in case."

“I—um—okay, that’s…” You look at him curiously. “Is that…something that happens? With these things?” It would be the first you’ve ever heard of anything like it — but then again there is also an NDA on your table right now. 

"If you and Javi wanted it to." He admits with a small grin. "Animal attraction and all. This just states that neither you nor Javi are required to provide intimate acts and if any transpire that it is of your own free will."

“It seems way more likely that I’ll overhear something, but I get it. You have to protect your client.” And since absolutely fucking nothing is happening without your consent - thank you self defense classes - you nod and pick up a pen. “So what happens? I arrive at some decent but inexpensive hotel, stylist dresses me so I look halfway decent, and I walk down the red carpet with him then get sent back to the hotel? Quick and dirty, as they say?”

Jack snorts and shakes his head. "Oh no." He hums, sending you a cocky smirk. "You will have a suite at the Biltmore Los Angeles and the stylists will be measuring you the day you arrive to make sure the gowns they pull for you to choose from are your size. We have artists come in to do your hair and makeup following a full spa day." 

“Oh.” That’s a hell of a lot more than you expected, and you can’t help but feel a little special and a lot flustered. “That’s a hell of a way to make a girl feel special, Mr. Daniels.”

"This is a once in a lifetime event, darlin'." Jack admits with a charming grin. "Javi's startin' off his U.S. tour with a bang."

“Yeah, I—um…my best friend and I actually pre-ordered our tickets the day the email went out.” You look down into your iced tea sheepishly, but you entered a damn contest for a date. They already know you’re a fan. “Fan Club early access tickets…”

"Fan club, huh?" Jack chuckles and he bites his lip. "Well, we'll just have to upgrade our contest winner to VIP tickets." He decides. "Can't have the woman who goes to the Grammys with Javi G watching his concert from anywhere but front row."

Sure you could demure and say it isn’t necessary, but you’re not at all going to turn down that kind of offer. The nearest big concert venue to you is a decent drive away and you and your best friend had already planned on having to get a hotel room for the night on top of everything else. It is going to be an extra big deal now. “I’m very happy to be extra positive publicity for you,” you tell him instead, knowing that that is probably his biggest and main concern. It doesn’t bother you one bit. 

"Good." He smiles and nods. "Not necessary but we will take all the social media coverage we can get." He does level you a serious look. "Before the winner is announced...you should probably make security changes to your accounts." He warns. "Just in case."

“What do you mean?” The ink is on the page now, your signature on the dotted line of the contract appointing you the winner of the contest, so you sit up to pay attention.

"Sometimes fans can be...invasive." He's sure he doesn't have to tell you about it if you are part of the fan club but he does want to warn you. "Make sure that you aren't getting random DMs and that you accept friends. I'm sure that as soon as it is announced, you will find you have thousands of new followers overnight."

“It will be a very busy weekend, then, I guess.” The email that had been sent to you said the announcement was coming within days of your contract being signed, so that can only be soon. After all, the Grammys are in three weeks. “I’ll change my passwords and privacy settings and all of that. Lock it down. Thanks for the tip.”

"Don't want this experience to be anything but magical." Jack winks again and snaps his fingers. "Oh! Damn near forgot, Javi recorded you a message."

“Oh, that’s—that’s so sweet.” So what if it was in his contract? Or if it was just a thing he would have done for any person who won the contest? It’s still nice.

Nodding, he pulls out his phone and opens up the video. "I'll send it to you, it's going to be posted on the official Javi G tour site after the announcement of your win as well."

The message pops up on your phone right away while you begin to read the NDA, glad to have just a tiny bit of legal knowledge from this and that over time. This one looks nearly identical to one that you signed for a work event some time ago so you sign it without fear. The last piece is the paper listing sexual activity as unattached to the contest and of the own free will of its participants and you shake your head all over again. How many people really just fall into bed with celebrities just because they’re famous? It seems so silly.

Javier Gutierrez, known as Javi G to his fans, pops up on the screen and he flashes the sweet smile that has melted men and women's hearts across Spain and Europe. Now destined to become a major success in the United States. "Buenos dias!" He waves and says your name. "I cannot tell you how I am looking forward to our date." He seemingly speaks to you, making eye contact with the camera. "Perhaps you will make me not so nervous." He chuckles nervously as he says that and continues on. "We will have a wonderful time at the Grammys and who knows?" He shrugs. "You might inspire a new song, cariño." He blows a kiss to the camera. "See you soon."

“He always seems so sweet.” Who knows if it’s a character or not, but even in his little Instagram posts or things like that, he always seems completely earnest and giddy. Like he can’t believe his good luck or something. “Is there anything else I should know? Before the day, I mean?”

"Javi has requested a brunch, or lunch, depending on how hungover the two of you might be." Jack smirks because he knows that is very likely. "Something simple, low key with no social media. His way of thanking you." 

“No dressers for that, I’m assuming?” You tease because it’s in your nature, but you make a mental note to pack your favourite dress to have brunch in. “I can definitely do brunch. Best meal ever invented.”

“L.A. is the city to have it in then.” Jack sweeps up all the signed paperwork and nods. “You will be sent an electronic version of these papers as well. We just like having physical copies.”

“Sure. Makes sense.” Another nod, as you wonder why this agent came all the way out here himself. “Do you…need anything else from me? Clothing sizes, probably?” There had been no request for physical indicators of any kind in the contest entry, so it’s not like he has them on file unless he’s a creeper.

Jack shakes his head. “The stylist will measure you when you land in L.A.” He explains. “Women’s sizes are so varied from brand to brand.”

“Okay.” Nervous again, you shrug your shoulders and take the last sip of your iced tea. “So is that it? I really have no idea how this works. Obviously.”

“Well…yeah.” Jack frowns slightly and picks up his tea again. “The ticket will be sent to you, we are flying you out two days before the Grammys, then back home two days after.” He shrugs slightly. “What questions do ya got for me?”

“Wait, it’s four days?” You almost startle at that news, but manage to shut your mouth after a few seconds. “Okay, uh…what arrangements do I have to make for myself? Hotel for the other nights? Flight home? Obviously you guys aren’t buying my meals or anything.”

Jack frowns. “Darlin’, I’m sorry, I guess you didn’t read the fine print.” He tuts, shaking his head. “Everything is included. There and back. You are not going to pay for a thing. At least I hope the $300 a day spending money for meals is enough.” They had wanted to make this contest as popular as possible, garnering attention and excitement for Javi G’s tour and it seems as though you didn’t even know what you were getting. 

The disbelieving laugh that that news earns him bursts out of you like an explosion and you end up giggling nervously. “I…had had a lot of wine that night,” you admit. “And I never went back to reread the contest information because I didn’t figure there was any chance I would win.”

“Surprise.” He chuckles and tilts his head. “The prize includes first class flights to L.A. and back, the entire stay at the Biltmore and twelve hundred dollars to be spent at your discretion for food. For four days. And the room service in the hotel is included with the room.”

“I’ll grab a city map and a rental car when I land and I’ll be good to go.” Sitting back in your chair, you blow out a breath and laugh again. “This is a hell of a contest, Mr. Daniels. It’s really a very impressive prize.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “I knew there was something they forgot.” He hisses, shaking his head. “We will make sure there’s a car at the hotel.”

“Oh no, that’s not—!” You bite your lip and hope you haven’t gotten some poor office lackey in trouble. “It’s very generous of you.”

“Convertible okay?” He wants to make sure he smooths over this oversight so you are happy as a pig in the mud when you post your stories online. “Drive down Hollywood Boulevard Marilyn style?”

Nearly choking on the first sip of a new glass of tea, your eyes go wide when you look up at him again. “I—that car? The broken down piece of crap you were standing next to downstairs? That’s been my car for seven years and she has been that bad the whole time I’ve had her. A convertible is insane.”

“Then the videos you post – safely – of you driving it with the wind blowing through your hair will be spectacular.” Jack winks.

“Very safely.” You can promise him that with your hand on your heart.

“It’s gonna be a great trip, darlin’.” Jack predicts. “Javi’s gonna love you and you’re gonna feel like a star.”

“I’m very excited.” It felt like a dream to begin with, but now all this? It’s incredible. It’s a fairy tale.

“Perfect.” Jack thinks you’re beautiful and if he didn’t have this contest that needed to be fulfilled, he would be hitting on you. “Only three weeks until you will be in L.A. and posing with Javi on the red carpet.”

******

The first two days in LA are like a whirlwind, posting things to your social media in between sending texts back to your best friend and your sister, doing as many touristy things as you can manage and eating some of the best food you've ever had in your life. This city is like nothing you've ever experienced before and you're enjoying every second of it. The day of the Grammys is an all-day spa treatment for you until you head back to your hotel room. Room service is waiting for you there, and the team of stylists arrive very soon after. The army of dresses that they have with them are all so stunning that you can barely get a good look at one before you're sighing over the next, and they are ready and excited to get to work.

“Knock knock.” Javi can hear the chattering and laughter inside as he stands outside the hotel room with his suit. His hair is already carefully styled and the stylist that is working with you right now is going to finish his look here in your room. Jack had wanted candid photos of you and him getting ready together.

"Oh my god." Sitting at the vanity in the hotel room in your robe and slippers, you swear you nearly fall over right in your chair. "It's you!"

“It’s me.” The door had been left open, due to the people coming in and out of your suite, so he pushes the door open and pops his head inside. “Can I come in?”

"O–of course!" Making sure you're covered by your robe, you get up to offer him your hand and find the smile on your face is even broader than you thought it would be. He's even more handsome in person...how is that possible?

The stylist quickly takes the suit from Javi, leaving him free to take your hand and pull you in for a hug. “Are you excited? I am excited. What a thrilling night!” He rambles, squeezing you tight and pulling back to beam at you, “Jack was right, but he always is.” 

"Jack was right you'd be excited?" He smells amazing despite it probably just being soap, and he's so warm that it radiates through you like you're hugging a ball of pure energy in the form of a man. Or maybe the form of a Golden Retriever Man.

“Jack was right that you are even more beautiful than your picture.” Javi corrects with a shy smile.

"I..." What the hell do you even say to that, when it's being said by the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life? "Thank you." Lame. "You're–I mean–you're incredibly sweet." Thank god you stopped yourself before you told him that he is beautiful, too. That would have been a hell of a way to start the night.

Javi frowns slightly as he panics slightly. “I did not mean to offend.” He hastily corrects, biting his lip. “I– I messed it up, didn’t I? Now you are uncomfortable and will not want to attend the Grammys with me.”

"Javi..." Surprising both of you, you reach out and put your hand on his arm. "I got tongue tied. I was about to tell you that you look beautiful instead of saying handsome. It's...you did nothing wrong. I'm just excited and very nervous."

He swallows, taking a deep breath and sighing out softly. “I–I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “Normally I can pretend to be more collected but I am nervous.” He admits.

"It's okay." Both of you end up laughing a little, and you step back to let him further into the room. "We were about to have a great debate over which gown to put me in. Do you want to weigh in?"

“You have not chosen yet?” He is surprised but delighted. “Have you tried any on yet?”

"They took my measurements when I got into the city two days ago and now I get to try stuff on and pretend to be a model." It's completely surreal and you're enjoying every second of it, if you're honest with yourself. The fact that people have whole lives like this is insane.

“You will look incredible.” Javi has no problem slipping into the chair that you had just vacated and he taps his chin as he thinks. “Is there a dress that matches my suit?” He asks the stylist. “Or should we not coordinate?”

The woman tips her head at Javi for a moment before nodding slightly and pulling away to sift through the garment bags that she brought. "We can make your accessories match," she tells him confidently. "You have pearl and gold cufflinks and gold horsebit on velvet loafers. For her," she nods to you while she talks. "I have two velvet gowns. Both will work with gold and pearl accessories." One gown is lush black velvet and the other is seductive red, both in vintage cuts. "How about one of these?"

Javi looks to you for your opinion. You will be wearing the dress after all. “What do you think?” He asks, genuinely wanting your input. “If you would rather something else, that is perfectly fine too.”

"Velvet is great. I'm not upset about that option." You're not upset about any of this, and you step toward the stylist with the dorkiest thumbs up known to man. "Let's try both on and see which one looks better."

Javi chuckles and nods. “That sounds like a perfect plan. Shall we have some champagne?”

Champagne. On Grammy night. With your favourite singer of all time. While you try on designer gowns. If you could go back in time and tell Little You about all this you'd never believe yourself. "Absolutely. Let's do it. You pour and I'll be right back."

Javi knows that the bucket of champagne is going to arrive soon. Jack had assured him that he was ordering one for when you were meeting him. Knowing that some champagne would calm him down.

Disappearing for the time it takes to wiggle into the red dress, you glimpse yourself in the mirror long enough that you almost sigh. It's stunning. Reminiscent of old Hollywood, it fits and flares in all the right places and the back hangs low enough to show off a whole lot of skin. Unfortunately, you note as you step out for Javi to see the dress on you, it's a little hard to walk in because it is so form fitting.

Immediately, Javi frowns when he sees your lips pinched together in concentration. “What is wrong with it?” He asks, leaning forward. It’s stunning, to be sure, but he will not have you uncomfortable for the entire night.

Biting your lip just gives you away even further, and you shrug a little helplessly. "I'm not very good at being elegant, I guess," you have to laugh to not be embarrassed. "It's a little hard to walk in."

Javi nods seriously, his brows pinching together. You look sexy in the dress and he knows it is flattering, but if you aren’t comfortable, it’s not the dress for you. “No.” He decides, shaking his head. “I wish for you to be comfortable.” He flashes a grin with a roll of his eyes. “As comfortable as you can get in a formal dress.”

The horror stories of being sewn into red carpet gowns, not being able to breathe, or walking in one specific way all night are thankfully not in your future, and you smile gratefully. “Okay. I’ll put on the other one. Be right back.”

“It is beautiful though!” Javi calls after you, watching you toddle out of the room into the bedroom of your suite.

He’s right, obviously. It’s a stunning gown and gorgeously made, but the one and only time you ever walk a red carpet is not going to be a night you have to hold your breath and tiptoe in order to exist. The black velvet dress is slightly shorter, the silhouette is much more comfortable, and the intricate pattern in the material is accented by an off-the -shoulder neckline that makes you feel elegant without being too exposed. It’s perfect, and you know the second you walk out that the difference is immediate.

Javi sits up straight in his chair, captivated by both the dress on your body and the shy smile that lights up your face. You feel good in this dress and that makes you even more stunning. “Estás preciosa. Impresionante.” He murmurs as he stands. “Yes, this is – it is beautiful.”

“It’s so comfortable,” you barely stifle a giggle, gleeful and unable to really wrap your head around your own good luck. “You, um…you like it?” As surreal as it is to have this monumentally talented international star sitting there gauging your appearance in red carpet fashion, you don’t feel as nervous as you thought you would. As you did right when he came in. He just had such a positive energy about him that it puts you right at ease.

“It’s is perfect, no?” Javi bobbles his head enthusiastically as he looks at the stylist for some back up. “She looks like she is a celebrity herself.”

“She will be after tonight.” The stylist hums her approval. “Sit down, honey. Have a drink, chat, whatever you like. Just don’t move your head a lot while we’re putting your look together, okay?” 

“Drink. Chat. Don’t move,” you laugh lightly at the directions and sit back down again, delighting when Javi himself hands you a glass of champagne. The last two days have been surreal, and this has just leveled up to crazy.

“It is easy to do once you remember not to look at everyone.” Javi assures you, sitting down in the chair that has been set up next to yours for last minute touch ups. It will allow him to chat with you and get to know you before the red carpet. “Are you looking forward to the awards?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” It’s such a once in a lifetime chance for you, what’s not to love? “I have no idea what to really expect, though.” A laugh comes easily but you have to remind yourself not to shrug. “I watch it on TV like most other people, but I have a feeling that a lot of stuff happens that isn’t shown on the broadcast.”

“We will find out together.” Javi admits with a giddy grin. It will be his first American Grammy Awards show and he is looking forward to it. “But we will have fun. I am sure of it.”

“We absolutely will.” Looking at him in the mirror as the stylists go to work on both of you, the whole thing is just…it’s perfect. It’s the story you’ll tell for the rest of your life. That time you reached Peak Awesome by winning a contest.

“And then we have the after parties.” He chuckles with an excited grin. “Sharing a drink with all my favorite artists.”

“Are we supposed to go to certain ones?” You had re-read the contract and contest rules over the last few weeks and there was a lot you had missed in your wine haze when you had entered.

“We will make an appearance for Jack. The main party….” He snaps his fingers, unable to think of the name. “Then we can choose where we would go.”

“Universal Music Group.” You remember that one, considering it’s such a big deal. “Jack did a really amazing job setting all of this up.”

“Jack is wonderful at everything he does.” Javi assures you with a small smile. “He has guaranteed my success in the States.”

“Well,” the smile you aim at him in the mirror is shy. “I already have my ticket for the tour. Jack, um…upgraded it. To VIP. So tonight won’t be the only time you see me, it seems.”

“Wonderful!” Javi lights up happily. “I might have to pull you up on stage with me.” He teases with a small wink. “Croon a few songs while you are there and make everyone in the stadium jealous.”

This man just does not do things by half, does he? It makes you wish you had about three more glasses of champagne to justify this bubbly feeling. “Well…he also put me and my best friend in the front row…so if you wanted to, we’ll be right there.”

“Your best friend? Is she a fan as well?” He asks, his eyes wide and sincere. “Or are you dragging her along for someone to attend with you?”

“She’s a fan, too.” You assure him, watching in the mirror as the stylist carefully sets the curls in his hair. “We watch Eurovision together every year, and the first time you performed for Spain…three years ago? You absolutely should have won, by the way, but we’ve both been fans ever since.”

“Thank you.” Javi still has a hard time accepting compliments, even as long as he has been performing, so a blush darkens his tanned features. “I am grateful that you think so. That is what matters to me, people enjoy my music.”

"There are a lot of us out there." If you thought he was sweet before, now you just want to wrap him up in cuddles and protect him with everything you've got. He's just a nice man who wants people to connect to him, and he's so endearing that it makes you ache. "You have a huge community of fans out there. All over the world."

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He ducks his head, causing his stylist to huff and remind him about staying still. “Oh! Sorry.” He catches your eyes in the mirror and winces, although he is grinning slightly.

"I promise, you do." Considering you're a member of that community, you would know. But either way, you beam his smile back at him in the mirror. "There are a lot of people in the States who are very excited to see you come over here. It's going to be great."

“I hope so.” He gushes. “I have always dreamed of coming over to American music billboards. ‘Crossing over’.”

His excitement is so sweet and pure, and you can't help the way your smile spreads and spreads the more you talk to him. "I don't know anything about distribution or profits or tours or any of that. But as a fan? There are so many of us who are so excited about this. I think it's going to go really well for you."

“Fingers crossed as the saying goes.” Javi is grateful that you seem to be such an encouraging person and his eyes light up. “We should call your friend!”

"Would you mind it?" Your phone is out on the vanity in front of you and you had thirty seconds worth of forethought this morning to change your lockscreen from a picture of Javi to one of you and your friend and your sister in her florist shop so that when he nods and you pick up your phone it isn't a cringeworthy moment.

“Not at all. You should FaceTime her!” He insists, eyes sparkling with the excitement of surprising your friend.

"Her name is Esme." You're practically giggling as you tap your phone screen, and grateful when the stylists move him slightly closer to you while they work so that you can both be seen in the small screen. "She's going to absolutely lose her mind. So...just be warned."

“That is okay.” He grins as he leans over a bit more to smoosh his face next to yours in the screen as you try to connect to your friend.

The phone rings twice before she picks up, but Esme is currently cat sitting for you and it's Pyewacket's face that greets you instead of your best friend's. "Hey Pye!" You coo at your cat, who looks confused as hell to see you in a little window instead of all in front of her. "Es...put the cat down and say hello," you giggle, still making faces at your cat.

“Aren’t you calling for a Pye check in?” Esme laughs as the feline jumps down and she turns the camera towards her face. “So how is it–” Her eyes widen and she starts to squeal. “OH MY GOD, Oh my god! Javi G!”

"I'm calling to say hi," you cackle, nearly keeling over in your chair to the dismay of your stylist. "Javi thought we should give you a call."

“Oh my god, oh my god, hiiiiiiiiiii.” She gasps out, nearly about to pass out from not taking a breath yet. “I can’t believe that I’m talking to you!”

"I told you," you smirk to the man beside you, but it's all good natured. Everyone deserves a little love and encouragement, right? His just comes from fans. "Es, you have to breathe, babe," you remind her over the camera.

“I’m so sorry.” She looks stricken for a moment. Embarrassed that she might be embarrassing Javi G. 

“Hello.” Javi finally has a moment to speak and he smiles indulgently into the camera. “Do not be sorry. I am happy to meet you Esme. You have a beautiful name.”

“Y-you’re beautiful,” she giggles, like she isn’t a grown ass woman of thirty. “I mean— ah, my friend is the smart one. I’m okay with that. You’re meeting her, she’s the smart one.” 

“Oh, you’re going to lose it even harder at the concert in a couple of months,” you can’t help but laugh, really. Esme wears her heart on her sleeve and doesn’t apologize for it.

“I will send your friend home with an autograph for you. Is that okay?” Javi asks, raising his brows in question.

“That would be amazing!” Esme squeaks. She would be clapping her hands with glee if she didn’t also have to be holding up her phone. “I’m gonna record the whole thing on your DVR tonight, babe,” she promises you eagerly. “You’ll have it to watch over and over.”

“I will talk to you again before she leaves.” Javi promises before kissing his hand. “Ciao Esme!” He knows they can’t keep talking, needing to finish getting ready and there needs to be behind the scenes photos taken. 

“I love you, honey, I’ll call you later!” You promise her before having to end the call. The clock is ticking and it’s almost time to go. “That was incredibly sweet of you. I know she’ll never forget that in a million years.”

“It was a small thing.” He shrugs one shoulder and gives you an embarrassed grin. “We will have to call during brunch so you can talk longer.”

“Jack said the brunch was your idea?” You ask, setting your phone back on the vanity. “I think it’s absolutely perfect. Brunch is absolutely my favorite meal.”

“I figured that even though the Grammys are exciting, we won’t get a lot of time to talk.” Javi reasons. “But brunch? Brunch is perfect for talking.”

As if to prove his point, the stylists move over to do a full face of makeup on you and just a few small touches on him - bits of eyeliner and glitter that the naked eye would hardly perceive but that enhances his look so much.

Javi grins in the mirror as you open your mouth so the lipstick can be painted on the interior of them far beyond what women normally do. “It should withstand any eating or drinking,” the stylist tells you when she is done, and she puts the tube down next to your phone. “But keep it with you for touch ups just in case.”

“I am glad I do not have to wear that.” Javi hums.

“It’s not so bad.” Lipstick always feels glamorous to you, adding to that elegant celebrity vibe that tonight is giving you, especially after spending all day at the spa. “Besides,” you grin and it wrinkles your nose. “You have more glitter on than I do.”

“To make me sparkle on camera.” He rolls his eyes but he knows the effect will look good on film.

“It’s cute,” you promise him easily. The jewelry and accessories have come out now – the very last thing before you are ready to get into the car to head to the red carpet.

Javi stands and smiles at you. "Now I must put on my own suit to match your beauty."

The whole thing takes less time than you would think, but by the time you’re ready to take pre-show pictures the stylist who is snapping them for you is making silly jokes about adult prom while he does his tie and you check your purse one last time to make sure you have everything. The night is going to be absolutely incredible and you’re starting to vibrate with excitement.

"I must confess." He takes your hand and leans close. "I have been so nervous for tonight that I have not eaten anything." He whispers. "Have you?"

“I’m the opposite.” His hands seem almost twice the size of yours, enveloping yours and keeping you close. “I’ve been nibbling all day to try to take my mind off being nervous.”

"So you would not want a pit stop by In & Out?" He asks, almost pouting at the idea. "I have a wish for their fries and American Coke."

“Well, I think we have to.” You’ve been nibbling today, picking at fruit and cheese, charcuterie and spiced nuts at the spa. As much tea as you could drink. The room service tray was delicious but definitely picked over. But fast food with a pop star is way better than some of the things you had on your proverbial Bingo card for tonight. “I’ve never had In & Out. We don’t have them where I’m from.”

"We can have the driver swing through the drive through on the way." He grins mischievously and nods. "We can experience it together."

“It will make a very silly story in an interview one day. I think it’s an excellent idea.” His phone goes off on the table again, flashing as it sits beside yours, and you see Jack’s name pop up on the screen. “I think you might have some instructions, or hopefully some encouragements, incoming.”

Javi picks up his phone, his face lighting up when he hears his agent's voice. “Rey,” he hums, grinning at you as he speaks. “We are just about to leave.”

“Está bien, zorro.” Jack’s voice on the other end is pleased and honeyed. “Y’all got everythin’ you need? Clothes fit, stylists done their duty? Car should be downstairs waiting for you.”

“Sí.” Javi bobble his head even if Jack cannot see him. His hand reaches up for the necklace around his neck. “We have already taken some pictures, rey. They are fantastico. She is more beautiful that I imagined.”

“I knew you’d like her.” Jack seems satisfied at the choice, and his voice pitches low for a moment. “Now you two behave and I’ll see you at the party. Buena suerte esta noche.” Good luck tonight.

“Sí.” He hums warmly, smiling as he pulls the phone away to look back at you. “Jack will be joining us at the party.”

“Then we better make sure we have fun before that.” Boldly putting out your hand to him, you nod to the door of the suite. “So we can have plenty to tell him.”

He takes your hand and grins. “Are you enjoying your prize so far?”

“It’s absolutely amazing.” And why does holding his hand feel like the sweetest, giddiest thing in the world? Esme’s going to be hearing about this forever, she really is. You could just melt over it. “I still have two more days here after tonight and I just…it’s more than I ever thought it could be. Going home is going to be such a bummer.”

"Where are you from?" Jack had told him the town, but he couldn't remember off the top of his head. You both are out the door and striding down the hallway with the stylists snapping photos of you. Jack probably told them to do that.

“Seymour’s Bay, New Jersey.” It’s a small town that almost no one has ever heard of, and you shrug a little. “We’re a ninety minute drive from New York City, and we have an old style amusement park. Those are about the only notable things from my town.”

"I see." He nods and once you are on the elevator, he squeezes your hand. "So what do you do, Belleza?"

“It’s…kind of weird.” You admit, feeling very schoolgirl in your beautiful dress while the man of your dreams holds your hands on the way to a very fancy party. “I’m a researcher for a podcast. True crime, a lot of history, some supernatural stuff. Sometimes we talk about movies made about true events and what they got right or wrong. It’s basically me and my cat and a whole lot of books.” 

"Interesting." Javi doesn't think it's weird, but he frowns slightly. "Do you do the podcast? Or do you just research for it?"

"I research for it." The frown makes you certain that you've completely weirded him out or made him uncomfortable, and you shrug again. "I studied to be a librarian, but through a series of random events, I ended up becoming a researcher instead. My bosses are great, though, and I can work from home. So it's way better than a lot of other jobs based on just that."

"That is unfortunate." Javi shakes his head. "I think you would be good at the podcast." He smiles. "You have a beautiful voice and I was hoping I could listen to you sometime."

"Anytime you want to hear it, you just give me a call," you joke, never thinking for a million years that he would actually do such a thing.

Javi nods seriously, making a note to himself that he needs to have Jack give him your number. The elevator starts to slow down and he sighs, squeezing your still joined hands. "The car should already be waiting for us."

It is, just as Jack had promised, and the crowd of fans and paparazzi outside that had gotten wind of where he would be are held at bay as you and Javi are ushered quickly into the backseat. More luxurious than any sedan but not quite a limousine, you're glad all over again to be wearing the less cumbersome dress of what you tried on. There is plenty of room to stretch out and be comfortable as the driver pulls quickly away from the hotel entrance.

"I didn't think that there would be so many outside." His eyes widen and he looks back at the crowd that gathered and was still snapping pics as you drive away. "That's crazy."

"Some members of your fandom are...a little more zealous than others." No one was overtly rude or acted out or anything like that, which was fortunate, but it's a very good thing that the car's windows are tinted. The further you get from the group, the harder it will be to pick out your nondescript car from all the other black cars with tinted windows in LA.

Javi scoots forward so he can tap on the the divider between the driver and the you. When the window rolls down, he shoots the driver a grin. "Can we stop by In & Out?" He asks. "We want to grab some food and drinks before the red carpet."

The driver chuckles, obviously having heard this request before, and he nods. "Sure thing, Mr. Gutierrez. There's also some drinks in the cooler built into the seat between you, if you want them. Not sure what Mr. Daniels put in."

"I'm sure Jack put in all my favorites." He grins and nods before he sits back. "Jack stocked the drink cooler in here." He tells you before he reaches for the pull down for the seat.

"He seems to think of everything." When Javi pulls the cooler open there are half bottles of Spanish cava from a vineyard on his home island along with a plethora of canned cocktails in every flavour imaginable and, of course, water bottles. You have to admit to being impressed. Jack seems to be an incredibly thorough man. And that thought turns dirty very quickly.

"He does." Javi nods as he pulls out a bottle of the cava and starts to twist to the wire off the cork to open it. "Shall we share a drink before our fries?" He offers.

"Wine and French fries is actually a combination I've done before," you roll your eyes at yourself. "Because I'm clearly the classiest person you know. But yes, absolutely let's celebrate."

"Cava and papas fritas are a match made in Heaven." Javi insists, popping open the bottle and taking a swig directly from it before offering it to you. "I can open your own if you do not wish to share."

"I'm not fussy." He's charmingly normal, and yet also you don't think you've ever met anyone like him before in your life. He is simultaneously vibrating like an overexcited chihuahua and as laid back as any housecat. When he offers you the bottle you take it, enjoying the heady buzz of more bubbly in your system. Nowhere near even tipsy, you're simply relaxed.

"I must confess." He turns towards you with an earnest expression and leans in close. "I am surprised by how normal you are." His eyes widen, realizing how horrible that sounds. "I mean, how normal you are taking all of this" He rushes out, cursing himself for insulting you. "I would be about to jump out of my skin and you are so cool and composed."

"It's partly the bubbly," you admit with a guilty grin. "But..." Pressing your lips together when you move the bottle away from them makes you look even guiltier, but you can't help it. "I'm just trying really really hard not to weird you out. Like Esme's reaction when we called? I've been doing that on the inside for the entire time."

"Do you want to know a secret?" Javi asks, his eyes widening and he leans in closer to you.

"Very much." And you will keep it secret and safe for as long as you live, just glad to have these memories to hold on to.

"I feel like that all the time." His eyes widen in seriousness and he bites his lip. "I am always anxiously bouncing off the walls and wondering if everyone around me thinks I am crazy."

"How many people have ever referred to you as a puppy to your face?" You ask with a grin, knowing that the majority of the American fandom refers to him as a 'golden retriever boyfriend' with maximum affection. His brow furrows in confusion and he tilts his head to the side as he looks at you. Trying to figure out what you mean by that. "It means you're excitable and sweet and you have really positive energy." The last thing you want is for him to think that you're covertly taking a dig at him or something, because it's completely the opposite. "Your happiness is infectious."

"Oh." Javi nods as he smiles at you, understanding what you are saying now. "Then it is a good thing."

"It absolutely is." You would never have said it otherwise, but you feel a little hazy from how close he is. His presence really is intoxicating.

"I look like a puppy, hm?" He asks, leaning in a little more. "A cute puppy?"

It's criminal the way your heart leaps in your chest, but you're flustering before you can even blink. "I think the agreed upon term is...'Golden Retriever Boyfriend'," you admit sheepishly.

"Golden...Retriever...boyfriend..." He says it slowly, letting the words roll on his tongue. Biting his lip again as he thinks about the nickname that he is apparently known by. "Do a lot of people call me that?"

"I–" You could lie. You could. Or play it off. But you just sort of giggle as he passes the bottle back to you to sip from again. "...yeah. At least, in America they do."

"Maybe I should get a dog." He thinks with a grin. "They have such loving little faces and always love you."

"You should do what makes you happy." It's good advice that you can never seem to follow for yourself, but he absolutely deserves all the good things in the world.

"Do you have any pets?" He asks, feeling the car slow down and turn. He looks out the window and grins when he sees the iconic sign for the west coast fast food joint. 

"The cat in the phone call?" You grin at the excited look on his face. "She's mine. Pyewacket...like the cat from Bell, Book, and Candle."

"Ohhhh, she was pretty." He nods, grinning. "Sleek looking, have you had her long?"

"She's two now and I've had her since she was twelve weeks old." That beautiful black cat is your favourite roommate and only child, and you love having her. "Someday maybe I'll get her a puppy sibling. But the apartment I live in is a little too small for that right now."

"Mr. G." The driver clears his throat. "We are nearing the window. "What would you and your guest like to eat?" He asks politely.

The two of you collaborate on an order in the backseat just in time for the driver to order at the speaker, and only a few minutes later you have a bag between you and Javi's craving for American Coke is being fulfilled. "Should have enough of a drive to enjoy your snack before we get there," the driver tells you, fully amused before he puts up the separator again.

"I'm so excited." Javi confesses, even as he starts opening napkins to start draping over your lap to protect your dress. "I have heard so many good things about this and have not had time to try it before now."

"Are you that busy getting ready for your tour?" It must be an immense amount of work, but you don't really have any bearing on what goes into it. Not really.

"Rehearsals are normally fifteen hour days." He admits with a rueful grin. "Another reason I have been looking forward to the Grammys. It's a break."

"Fifteen?" That sounds like torture, and you immediately offer him some French fries like an apology. "Please tell me you have all kinds of people whose literal job it is to take care of you, because that's insane."

"Jack makes sure that I am well rested." He assures you, smiling at how thoughtful you are to worry about him. "It will get better. Hard work now to insure that the tour is perfect."

"It will be perfect." Of that you have no doubt. He's an amazing performer with incredible talent and dedication. "And I'm glad you have someone to look out for you. I know...people always say that being famous is lonely, and you're too sweet for that."

"It– it can be lonely." He admits, frowning slightly and reaching for his Coke to take a sip of it. "I do not have many friends." He shouldn't admit this to you. Opening up too much, you could tell people even though there is a NDA that protects him.

"Well that's shitty." Turning to face him completely in the back of the car, you decide that the frown on his face is completely unacceptable and you shake your head. "You have one more. If you want to, I mean. You want to talk to somebody, or vent about your day, or whatever, you just drop me a line, okay? And if you ever want to see the lamest town in New Jersey sometime, I'll take you to the broken-down amusement park for the probably-unsafe rides and rigged carnival games."

"Really?" He asks, surprised by the offer. People often want to be close to him, to get things from him, but it's never an offer to just listen. "That is– that is very nice of you." He chokes out, emotional from the gesture.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." In a moment that might qualify as juvenile if it didn't feel so honest and pure, you stick out your pinky finger to him and grin. "Pinky promise. Jack has my number and my email, but I'll give it all to you at brunch tomorrow if you really want it. Friends shouldn't be hard to come by for somebody as nice as you are."

His grin lights up his face and he eagerly hooks his finger around yours. "I know it seems silly to not have friends." He admits. "My family kept me isolated. Practicing to become famous was more important than friends."

"My family put pressure on me in other ways. And I know I don't have any kind of demanding career like you do, but I get it. When they decide they know what's best for you they never let go." Squeezing his finger gently in yours, the two of you are back to your snack in no time. "I do shifts in my sister's flower shop to keep them quiet. The whole family are all florists except me."

"Florists?" His brows shoot up and he hums. "They create beauty and they can't understand why it doesn't fulfill you."

"I am...not very artistic," you admit, picking up another French fry. It's official. In & Out is amazing. "I can appreciate beauty, and music, and art, and theater, and all of it. But I'm not good at making it myself. So sometimes I run the cash register for my sister on busy days or help with shipments. But arrangements? Esme and Kate do all that."

"There is nothing wrong with that." He shoves some fries into his mouth and follows it up immediately with a sip of Coke, moaning at the taste of it combined. "You have to have a sip of Coke with your fries."

It's not exotic for you at all, but he is so excited that you lean over and accept a sip of Coke without a second thought. There really is something so fantastically satisfying about simple, greasy fast food while you're all dressed up that is so much fun. "So are you right back to rehearsals tomorrow after brunch, or do you still have time to relax?"

"I will start back rehearsals next week." He tells you with a grin. "The last week before the tour starts. They don't want me to be too tired at the start of the tour." One more week of practice and then the last week before the kickoff will be spent relaxing. 

"So you have time to relax and enjoy yourself." That makes you nod with authority you definitely don't have. "Good. You should do things with your time that make you happy. Collect lots of memories. You never know where inspiration can strike, right?"

"I am hoping to." He smiles although there is a hint of secrecy in the curve of his lips as he says it. "There are a lot of things that I wish to experience. Especially if I am going to make the move to America permanent."

"Are you?" That rumor hasn't even hit the most in the know members of the fandom as far as you can tell, and you make the motion of an ‘x’ over your chest. "I signed the NDA, Javi. I won't say a word, I swear. But that's so exciting!"

He flushes again, realizing he has misspoken and yet with your hand reaching out to take his, he relaxes slightly. "I shouldn't have said that, but I'm glad someone knows." He admits, knowing that only his people, Jack, know of his plans.

“And hey.” You squeeze his hand gently, a moron he seems to find reassuring. “Even if I hadn’t signed it? We’re friends now. Friends get excited and keep secrets for each other. It’s part of the deal.”

"Thank you." The last few fries are gone quickly and he carefully starts to wipe his fingers free of salt and grease before he checks his suit for any dropped grains.

“Here.” There’s just a few specks of salt on his lapel but you lift them off in the curve of one of the fake nails that the manicurist at the salon gave you earlier today. “There.” There is no stain or mark left behind. No one would ever know you’ve been naughty. “Perfect.”

“Thank you.” He smiles, reaching up to brush a fry crumb from the corner of your lip. “You still look beautiful. And that was delicious.”

“I should check my lipstick, since it’s the one thing the stylists sent with me.” Having him call you beautiful makes you shy. You’re just a normal girl from a normal little town. Not someone Javi G should be calling beautiful.

“Yes.” Javi nods seriously and picks up your purse to hand you, “I will hold anything you need.”

The ride took less time than you thought, and you’re putting away your lipstick and mirror as the car enters the line to deposit you and Javi on the red carpet. “Don’t be nervous,” you encourage, taking his hand briefly. “You’re going to be amazing. I know it.”

"It is show time." He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. Clinging to your hand when you try to pull it away and flashes you an apologetic grin when the moment passes. "Sorry." He hums.

“Sorry.” You instinctively apologize at the same time, and the two of you end up feeling silly but thankfully not too awkward. “If you need to grab my hand on the carpet, go for it,” you tell him, right before the car door opens. You’re not going to be mad if there is a picture out there in the world of him sweetly holding onto you for support. Just a nice man being nice to his fan.

Javi slides out of the SUV, adopting a charming smile and lifting an arm and waving to the first wave of fans and photographers, buttoning his jacket and turning to help you out of the car. While there are porters to help guests out of the cars but he wants to do it himself. Flashing you a smile as he reaches for your hand.

What you see on tv is so different from what is happening the second that Javi helps you out of the car. It’s so much louder than you expected and with so many more people everywhere. Red carpet interviews and photos give you the impression that things are all very organized and to some degree they are, but there are far more people milling about than you ever would have guessed. The two of you are ferried into a sort of arrivals line - as you make it down the carpet there will be certain places to stop for photo ops and for interviews, and there are handlers to make sure that you go where you need to. But the sheer scale of the event is so much greater than you had ever thought watching it from home.

"Here we go." Javi murmurs under his breath as he smiles and starts to wave again. It's big and loud and reminds him of stadium tours while he was in Europe. You are new to this and he keeps your hand curled around his and when he drops his hand down, he pats your hand and looks at you. "Are you okay?"

“I’m great,” you admit, thoroughly surprising both of you. The whole thing is massively exciting and you’re just soaking it up. “How are you doing? Nerves okay?”

Surprisingly good. He is normally way more nervous about things like this but you are calming him down with your down to earth friendliness and happiness. "I'm good." He insists with a smile, leaning in and kissing your cheek before his hand drifts up to touch his necklace again.

The crowd apparently loves this moment, fans nearby cheering loudly to see something so sweet in front of them. “They’re loving every second of you,” you promise him, grinning from ear to ear.

He smiles shyly, biting his lip as he looks at you soulfully. "I should have asked if that was okay." He murmurs, hoping you didn't mind it too bad.

“More than okay.” Hell, for all you care the guy can stick his tongue down your throat in the middle of the red carpet. Fuck…that’s a thought that is going to fester…

He smiles and nods, kissing your cheek again and this time he doesn't flush when he pulls back. The permission gives him confidence and he sends you a small wink before an event coordinator comes over to guide you down the carpet.

For the first real time tonight, that sheet of paper you signed concerning the possibility of sex pops back into your mind. Not because a kiss on the cheek is inherently sexual but because the nearness of him is so intoxicating.

The first few stops fly by. Charming and vivacious, Javi manages to win them over with a smile and his enthusiastic love of everything American and the joy of being here. He displays you just as much as he can, gushing over how he is enjoying being here with you and pushing you to talk as well.

The first reporter to not know anything about the contest is the first one to ask him to introduce his girlfriend to the world. He looks eager to hear all about it, thinking he might be getting a scoop, but despite the hand holding you both shake your head politely.

"She is my date." Javi clarifies, leaning in. "But she is beautiful, no?" He asks, looking back at you. "Won a contest and inspired the next song. I swear."

“I’ll be very excited to hear that song when it comes out.” He surely doesn’t mean it, but it’s still a nice thought to have. “I’m honestly just having the best time in the world.”

"We are planning to make sure we enjoy everything." Javi beams, happy you are enjoying yourself and he hopes that you mean that. You are inspiring his next song. He's already come up with the hook in his head and actually cannot wait to jot it down.

“What kind of everything are you enjoying?” Disappointed to not have unearthed gossip, the reporter digs for more. You’re clearly smitten, even if you are just a fan.

“The show, the parties after.” Javi flashes you a grin. “Tomorrow, we will nurse our hangovers with a delicious west coast brunch.”

“You’ll never want to leave LA after this.” The man chuckles to you, and you can’t shrug or risk looking weird. 

“I already don’t want to leave,” you admit with a blinding smile. This moment is supposed to be for you and yet all you want to do is make it good for Javi. He chuckles and the two of you move down to the next reporter. Smiling as he grips your hand tightly. “He wanted us to give something away so badly,” you grin guiltily.

“He did. Secret relationships are always titillating.” Javi hums, reaching up and touching his necklace again to calm himself.

“Too bad for them.” Still holding his hand, You flash him the same smile that you had the reporter to hopefully reassure him. “Everything’s going great.”

“Let me know if that changes.” He asks softly, wanting you to enjoy this entire experience. “Although they are going to be jealous of me standing beside someone as beautiful as you are.”

"When you write your song, put that in the lyrics," you tease affectionately. "It will be my favorite forever."

“I will.” Javi nods seriously. “The hook is already written. ‘No star shines as bright as your smile’” He sings softly.

"I—I thought you were just...saying that." The flash of a camera isn't as dramatic as a wasted bulb anymore, but there is now one photographer in the world with an picture of you looking at Javi with soft astonishment written all over your expressive face. "It's...it's beautiful," you murmur back, feeling your cheeks heat up so much you might become your own sun.

“You are beautiful.” Javi counters, unraveling your hand from his arm to kiss the back of it. “Inspiration struck, thanks to you.”

******

If he was enjoying himself before the awards, Javi is ecstatic afterward and you are powerless but to roll along with his excitement at the afterparty. His award for Best Global Performance will be delivered to his LA residence and the adrenaline from his win might never wear off. Happiness looks so well on him, though, and he's all but glowing when you walk into the party together.

"I can't believe I won!" He gushes for about the five thousandth time. It's incredible and he's nearly overwhelmed with how many people, famous artists, came up to congratulate him. "Can you believe that I won?"

"I absolutely can," you assure him just like every time before. He's a brilliant entertainer and it isn't the first award he's ever won, but his desire to break America means that winning a Grammy holds enormous importance for him. "You more than deserve it."

"Is that..." His eyes widen and he cranes his neck over the crowd and then ducks down and around The Weeknd to see better. "Is that Gloria Estefan?" He asks in a near reverent whisper. "Oh my god, it is." He hisses, looking back at you almost panicked. "It's Gloria Estefan!"

"You should say hello." He is very near to a kid in a candy store at this party, and while you are just sort of absorbing the glitz, glimmering chaos around the top of you, he has transformed into a fanboy. It's actually reassuring to see – the way he is acting on the outside is very much how you felt on the inside when he walked into your suite tonight.

"No!" He shakes his head and straightens up, looking back at you like you had suggested he spit in her drink. "I could not possibly. She is...she is iconic. I cannot bother her."

"Did it bother you to meet me?" The question is posed as entirely theoretical, and the hint of a smile on your lips tells him you aren't judging him in the least. "Having someone who admires you tell you that you mean something to them is wonderful, Javi. Don't be afraid."

Javi shakes his head, still too starstruck and he looks back at you, “Maybe after a drink, sí?” He asks, raising his brows at you.

"Well, let's get you a drink, then." There are waiters passing by with trays in every direction and a full bar against the far wall, so getting him whatever drink he wants will not be a problem whatsoever.

“How do you feel? Are you still having fun?” He asks, wanting to make sure that he’s not boring you or you wish you were back in your suite.

"The answer to that will always be yes," you promise him. The two of you have gotten used to walking hand in hand tonight, and now it is natural to put your hand in his as you walk to the bar. "What are we drinking to celebrate your victory?"

“Tell me your favorite drink.” He begs, turning those puppy dog eyes as you call them on you and smiles.

"Usually just wine," you admit, albeit a little sheepishly. "Sparkling or even sangria if there's a party. "But I am absolutely open to trying anything." A rule which goes for more than just cocktails, but he doesn't really need to know that.

“Should we try some of the signature cocktails?” He asks, pointing to the placard with a list of yummy sounding drinks. “Jack should be here soon.”

“Absolutely.” The only way to survive winning this contest has been to go with the flow, so you’re just going to roll with that a while longer. People are already starting to drink and dance, catching snacks from passing trays of hors d’oeuvres or from the long buffet of sumptuous offerings along the wall adjacent to the bar. Tables for chatting and resting sit ready but most people seem ready to party. At the bar, a half dozen specialty cocktails are listed with cheeky names and full descriptions. Some are fruity, some are smokey, some sound downright dangerous. It’s all a matter of taste.

"Award Winning Whiskey Sour." Javi decides, looking at the menu. "I think I will start with that." He looks over at you and waits for your decision.

“The Sweet Victory Raspberry Limoncello Cooler sounds like my speed,” you decide with a grin. An open bar with a reason to celebrate always means trying something wonderful.

"Then that's what you will have." He winks at you and darts off to grab the drinks. It doesn't matter that he is the award winner, he is going to treat you like the star since you are with him.

“Javi!” There is a crowd forming and you end up losing the fast-moving Spaniard in the thick of it, but you just laugh and hang back. You’ll stay where you are and he will find you again. In the meantime, this party is incredible and a few covert pictures won’t hurt anything.

At the bar, Javi orders the drinks, smiling at the bartender and he reaches up to touch his necklace as he looks around the crowd, searching for a Stetson.

“Lookin’ for somebody?” Jack’s voice comes from behind his left shoulder, the warm smirk of amusement evident in his honeyed tone.

"Jack!" Javi lights up again, delighted to see him and he lunges forward to hug his agent. "Can you believe I won?" He knows that Jack had kept tabs on the awards ceremony, even if he had been working while he was watching so he could attend the party.

"Of course I can believe it." He had no doubts about it, but he's glad to see Javi happy. Jack pats his star on the back and looks around before raising an eyebrow at Javi. "Where'd our girl get off to? Run away to powder her nose?"

"I left her..." Javi bites his lip and looks around the crowd before he spots you. "Just there." The bartender brings over the drinks and Javi shoves a generous bill into the man's hands. "Can we also get a glass of whiskey?" He asks, nodding towards Jack. "For my friend."

"Enjoying your night?" Jack asks him, honestly wondering if the sweet shows of companionship he saw during the broadcast were real or if Javi was learning how to charm Americans along with everyone else in the world.

"She is wonderful." Javi confides with a small grin, leaning in closely. "Just like you said she would be. I like her, rey. I really like her."

"I thought you would." That news pleases Jack, who presses a bill into the bartender's hand when he comes back with his whiskey. "She signed on the dotted line, ya know," he reminds Javi under his breath. "Could be a well-deserved way to celebrate."

"Does she know?" Javi asks under his breath, reaching up and touching his necklace again. "What that entails?"

"Not yet." Jack shakes his head and picks up his drink, holding it to his lips a moment and considering the next course of action before he drinks. "If you'd like to tell her, we can. But I'd say let's see how she dances before we go invitin' her to the rodeo."

"No." Jack's idea makes sense and Javi nods. "I want to see her dance. Plus I need to deliver her drink."

"Then lead the way, zorro," Jack murmurs quietly, a smirk gracing his lips.

Javi smiles as he moves through the crowd of people, nodding and slightly awestruck by some of the people who greet him by name. He doesn't stop, eager to get back to you with the drinks and with Jack.

You get one more discreet picture in on your phone before you see Javi reappear with a distinct Stetson-wearing mustachioed cowboy behind him, and you quickly pull up your text messages to fire one off to Esme to cover up the fact that you were being an absolute fangirl for the five minutes he was gone.

"Jack is here." Javi rushes out with a happy smile on his face as if the man's presence behind him isn't announcement enough.

Murmured thanks to Javi for delivering your drink come with a broad smile, and you are right back to beaming when you turn to Jack. "You must be very proud tonight."

"Pleased as punch, darlin'." Jack hums, sending you a small wink. "Only a few things that I can think of that would make me happier and it wouldn't be polite to speak about that in public." He winks again and takes a sip of his whiskey.

When your smile turns shy it seems to please the cowboy even further, and you take a sip of your drink with a happy hum before looking back to Javi. Not that Jack isn't damn fun to look at, but it's Javi's night. "What are you thinking, Javi? Grab something to eat? Get on the dance floor?"

"Dancing." Javi sneaks a look over at Jack before back to you. "I wish to see how you move." He smirks, taking a sip of his whiskey sour and biting his lip.

Well damn. Get a couple of drinks and an award win into Javi Gutierrez and suddenly he's all but purring at you in front of his agent. While a prouder woman might have played it off or demurred, you have reached a point in the night where not caring anymore is a virtue. There are no paparazzi inside this party. No fans to speak of other than you or a few other lucky guests. So Jack is here? Fuck it. Jack's a flirt, too. "Well, come on, then," you toss him a grin after taking a long drink of your cocktail. "I'm sure Jack won't mind guarding our drinks for a few minutes."

Jack chuckles and takes your drink from you, making sure that his fingers linger over yours and he practically coos at you. "Enjoy yourself now, darlin'." He encourages, grinning at you like he's the cat that is edging closer to the canary.

"I'll try to keep up," you tease Javi as he leads you out onto the dance floor. Considering how many of his performances you've seen on television, you know how well he can move. It really will be trying to keep up with a pro tonight.

Jack watches with interest as Javi pulls you into his arms and starts to move. It's obvious that you are infatuated with Javi and he doesn't blame you. It's a part of his charm, his ability to draw people in.

The song has a beat to move to, thank god – something hip hop and Latinx that makes for fantastic party music at the beginning of a night. There are no speeches here, no cameras to pose for, only people enjoying themselves, so that is exactly what you decide to do when you put both arms around Javi's neck. When are you ever going to get a chance like this again in your life? Never is when, so you're damn well going to enjoy every second of it for everything it's worth.

Javi laughs breathlessly as he twirls you around and dips you. Happy that your dress allows for you to move so easily. He wouldn't have been able to dance with you like this if you had worn the red dress. And it would be a shame to not get to press his body to yours like this.

"I think we picked the right dress," you laugh breathlessly, obviously having the same thought as him at this moment. This fairy tale - your fairy tale - keeps getting better and better at every turn.

"Depends on how it looks on the floor." Javi teases, pulling you closer and flashing you a grin.

"I–" The shock on your face is abundantly evident. For all the teasing, or flirtatiousness, or even the fleeting sweet moments you've shared tonight? Neither of you has been as bold as to make that kind of comment or make any intentions known. On your end it seemed utterly ridiculous to even think he would be interested, assuming his gestures to simply be those of a sweet man with good manners. But maybe it is actually more than that? "Now that is a very interesting question," you admit, lips curling up into a grin.

"Sí?" He asks, eyes widening slightly in shock as if he is surprised that the line actually worked. Jack's presence has given him confidence that he normally does not possess or represses because of his poor self esteem, but the grin on your face captivates him. "You would like to find out? With me?"

Thinking about it for a second, you end up surprising yourself and laugh a little right out loud. "You know..." you shake your head in amusement. "I was really about to say that I was only serious if you were actually interested in me for me and not in some wish fulfillment thing about fucking a fan. But honestly? I don't really care what the motivation is. I'm one hundred percent on board. We'll dance, we'll drink, we'll go back to the hotel and have a night. Why the hell not?"

If you had told him that he was the world wide star, top of the charts for all the countries, he couldn't have looked any happier about your agreement. "Yes!" He crows happily and pulls you even closer to kiss your cheek. Since you are in public, he would not cause a scene.

He is nearly crushing you to him as he revels in your agreement, and you have to admit - this whole contest, this trip, this night, all of it - it's so surreal that why shouldn't it include sleeping with an internationally known musician that you've had a crush on for literal years? That's completely tracks with the tone of the whole thing. Esme and Kate are never going to believe half of what actually happened even before this.

When the song ends, Javi pulls away and he searches your eyes. "Do you want to stay?" He asks. "Or do you want to go?"

"Jack won't be upset if we don't stay longer?" After all, you had really only been here for what feels like a few minutes. Perhaps it was as long as a whole half hour, who knows. And Jack seems like a man who prefers to do things 'right'.

"Why don't we see what he wants to do?" Javi asks, taking your hand and leading you off the dance floor. "I need my drink anyway!"

There is definitely something you're missing here, unless Javi is about to ask his agent's permission to take you back to the hotel, but since you're already decided to just roll with it you let him drag you back to the table where Jack is waiting and gratefully accept your drink from the tall, dark, and handsome Southerner when he offers it back to you.

Javi is nearly bouncing on his toes with anticipation, grinning as he takes his drink from Jack and tosses it back quickly. “I would like to go back to the house, rey.” He tells Jack before he turns to you. “Unless you would be more comfortable in your hotel room, of course.”

"It's where my stuff is," you point out needlessly. "But nobody ever died because they were embarrassed about a walk of shame."

“There’s no shame in that walk, darlin’.” Jack smirks, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Maybe a little hitch in your step dependin’ on how hard you’ve been ridden is all.”

"Traditionally is it not the lady who does the riding?" Throwing caution to the wind, you have another sip of your drink and tilt your head at Jack. "What's the song? Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy?"

“Oh you are perfect, darlin’.” He chuckles, leaning in and chucking your chin with his fingers. “How’d you like to find out?”

For a second you freeze, not sure that you've understood him correctly, and you look between the two men to find Javi looking just on the edge of nervousness and Jack smirking confidently. Well that's a surprise... But really, is it a bad one? Hell no. Cowboy Burt Reynolds is a look you didn't know you were into until a month ago when Jack Daniel's showed up at your apartment, and you're just going to throw up your hands and go with the flow. "Ya know what?" You toss back the end of your drink, enjoying the way the bubbles go straight to your head - you're making the decision with a clear head but you might be a little floaty by the time you get back to wherever you're going if you have another. "Sure. Let's go find out."

“Really?” Javi’s eyes widen happily and he reaches for your hand, “You know he is talking about…” He looks around and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Both of us, sí?”

"I understood that part," you promise him, squeezing his hand just as you have every other time that he has been nervous tonight. "And I've got no clue why you're asking, or why you're asking me, but since I'm never going to get an offer like this again?" You shrug again and end up laughing a little. "Let's go."

“You will not regret it.” He promises you, turning and beaming at Jack. “I want you to know that you have the most exquisite taste, rey.” He hums. “I feel relaxed already.”

"Okay." Setting your glass down on the table beside you and picking up your evening bag instead, you look between them curiously. "I thought your name was Jack?" You ask quietly. "Not Ray?"

Javi flushes and he ducks his head in embarrassment, reaching up and touching his necklace. Jack chuckles and decides to answer for him. He sets down his whiskey after he drains it. “Not ‘Ray’ like ‘Howdy my name’s Ray’.” He explains. “‘Rey’.” He exaggerates the punctuations slightly. “My little zorro named me his king the first night he skipped a step or ten on his own walk of shame.” 

"Zorro?" As far as you know, that's just a guy in a mask with a sword running around Mexico in the movies, but clearly it means something different. Whatever it means, though, one thing seems to be growing clearer: Jack is much more than just Javi's agent.

“Fox.” Jack smirks, reaching out to run his finger down Javi’s smooth jaw with tender affection. “He’s my sexy fox, isn’t he?” He asks, looking up at you. “Or foxy?”

The absolute hard right into unbelievable that an already crazy night has taken makes your whole body feel like it's been instantly set on fire and like your system has been flooded with instant arousal all at once. Jack is his dom...that makes so much sense... "He's been very good tonight," you tell Jack, humming a little to see how Javi lights up at the praise. "He should definitely be rewarded for it."

“That’s good.” Jack coos, smirk growing wider when he sees that you understand the dynamic and are either intrigued or approving. “I bet his cock is aching for some attention, isn’t it, zorro?”

"Por favor, mi rey," Javi turns his wide eyes on Jack, the very same ones he has used on you multiple times tonight. The party is so raucous all around you that barely anyone has even noticed you, and the three of you seem to have entered your own little world anyway.

“Now that you know this…” Jack turns his dark gaze on you. “Are you still willing to go home with us? The agreement doesn’t cover me. But a good old fashioned verbal consent will do.”

"I thought it was a little weird when that page was in with the others, but...anything can happen in the world, right?" You smirk at Jack, feeling far bolder than you ever thought you could. "Now I see you were just being thorough for your man. That's very considerate, Jack. And...I think that deserves a reward, too."

Jack arches a brow and a slow smirk rides across his face. “What kind of reward are we talkin’ about, darlin’?” He asks, interested in see what you think is a reward.

Cheeks on fire, your eyes slide away for a second to compose yourself so you can look back at him. "I was really hoping you'd just be impressed that I was being cheeky and I'd have the car ride to think up something creative," you admit sheepishly. "Called my bluff."

He tosses his head back and laughs. A deep, belly laugh that rolls through his body. Javi squirms slightly, his own grin on his face and Jack finally looks back at you with pure admiration in his expression. “Good for you, darlin’.” He chortles, reaching out and pulling you close so he can whisper in your ear. “Might have to spank you for that, but only if you want me to.”

There’s no way he can know that he’s offering you something that you very much enjoy, but he’ll most likely be able to figure it out by the way you reflexively shiver a little at the suggestion. “We should get going,” you tell them most, nodding with as much authority as you can. “Sounds like our own party is going to be far more fun.”

“Oh it will be, darlin’.” Javi whimpers in agreement with Jack and he takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “You don't seem surprised.” He murmurs as Jack guides you both towards the exit.

"I decided about ten minutes ago to just throw up my hands tonight and go with the flow, so I'm just leaving all of my confusion and surprise for tomorrow when I think about what happened." You lace your fingers through Javi's and offer him a smile. "I basically have decided that all of this is just an amazing dream and so anything can happen."

"That is a good way to look at things." Jack hums, his hand sliding to your back as he leans close. "I thought I was dreaming the first time Javi begged to suck my cock, now I hope to never wake up." He teases. "Why don't we go see what kind of fevered dream we can cook up for you?"

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse

My Masterlist!

[lady-bess]

A Lady Bess announcement!

Bess is back in their writing nook, and things are about to take a turn! There is a new series on the horizon!

Well, this one might be a little too niche, but oh well! I need my boys together in the same universe somehow.

"Lost in the West" - a Doctor Who x Kingsman crossover (11th Doctor/Jack Daniels/Reader) is in the works! (Rating TBC)

For those of you who are new to my blog, or haven't had the misfortune of me talking your ear off about it, I grew up with Doctor Who. I got into it with 9, adored 10, and I would go on to really enjoy 12. But 11? Dear readers, I fell in love, and I fell hard. Rumour has it I still haven't got back up, fourteen years later.

*whispers* the rumours are true

Writing for the Doctor Who franchise is actually how I got started with fic writing. When I was 13 I wrote a full Wattpad story on my iPod Touch Gen.2 (a blast from the past, am I right?), but it would be another six years before I started on A03. Before I was LadyBess, I was MrandMrsDoctor, and I uploaded a handful of stories back in 2018.

Some of them didn't live to see today - I used to write RPF for the cast, and while I think some RPF definitely has its place from an artistic standpoint, mine did not age well at all. It wasn't anything crass, not by a long shot. But those stories no longer reflect me as a writer.

But, the rest remain! And I'd like to dip my toe back into writing for Doctor Who/11 specifically - I revisited the franchise in November with my story "Run", and it was lovely to see it get some traction. Also good to know I don't just write for Kingsman 🤭

So, what will this story entail?

Well, we're still in the rough draft stage at the moment, so I can't give away too much. This post is just to get y'all excited! But let's just say that there'll be a trip to a small town in the American West, and we'll meet a very familiar looking cowboy...

But what will happen when your time is over, and you're supposed to leave?

I'll do posts about this as it develops more! As with Fallout, I'll personally want to have written a good amount of this before I start publishing. But updates and artwork will start arriving soon!

Like what you just read? Drop me a follow! And if you want to read something from either the Kingsman or Doctor Who franchise in the meantime, check out my Masterlist! All my Doctor Who fics still live over on A03 only, but they're in my Masterlist nonetheless.

With love, Lady Bess xox

[brinleyparke]

Kingsman Fic Ideas/Prompts

Merwin, Perciwin, Hartwin, or Gen: Charlie gets kicked out or at least punished for the water prank.

Parachute test fix-it (Merwin or Gen): Perhaps Merlin takes a minute to understand why Eggsy has said chip on his shoulder

What if Eggsy and Charlie were the last two in the parachute test?

"Manners maketh man. You'd do well to remember that Mr. Hesketh." Or Harry is none too pleased when he finds out how Charlie has been treating Eggsy. (Can be Hartwin or Harry can be more of a father figure in this)

What if Charlie had passed the loyalty test?

Harry lets Eggsy teach Dean a lesson after Eggsy fails the final test and comes home and finds out that Dean hit his mom.

Post-TGC: (Merwin or Gen) Merlin lives, but Eggsy still feels guilty. He's also angry because Merlin sacrificed himself to repay Eggsy's father, not because of Eggsy himself, which parallels Harry saying, "Can't you see that everything I've done has been about trying to repay him?" in the first Kingsman film.

AU - Canon Divergence, Enemy of My Enemy: Eggsy doesn't kill Charlie. Eggsy and Charlie have to team up against a villain, not necessarily Poppy.

Merwin or Gen: Daisy asks Merlin to dress up as Gru for Halloween so that her and Eggsy can be minions.

H/C after train track test

Maybe Eggsy is upset that he was drugged.

Maybe Eggsy has been drugged before, so he has a panic attack or a nightmare after the train test.

Maybe Eggsy is still freaked out a little because he thought he was gonna die.

Eggsy gets de-aged to 4 years old (mind and body). Harry takes care of him until they can turn him back. (GEN FIC) Based on this fanart:

Eggsy gets de-aged to 4 years old (mind and body). Merlin takes care of him until they can turn him back. (GEN FIC) Based on this fanart:

Eggsy gets de-aged to 4 years old (mind and body). Harry and Merlin take care of him until they can turn him back. (GEN or Merlahad FIC)

Eggsy gets de-aged to 4 years old (mind and body). The agents of Kingsman take turns taking care of him until they can turn him back. (GEN or Merlahad or Harry/Percival FIC)

Harry apologizes to Eggsy for what he said and the assumptions he made in the Black Prince.

Tilde tells her parents about Eggsy.

Merwin or Gen: After the toast to Merlin, Eggsy leaves the room (maybe he goes to the bathroom or something) and breaks down. Harry or Tequila or Ginger Ale comforts him.

Tilde meeting Daisy and Eggsy's mother for the first time.

Post-TGC: Eggsy has nightmares about Merlin and almost losing Tilde, and Tilde comforts him.

During training, Eggsy has nightmares about Dean.

After Merlin's "most dangerous job interview" speech, Harry explains the bruises on Eggsy's cheek and neck.

After the water test, all of the recruits receive physicals. Eggsy doesn't have much medical history because Jamal treated most of his injuries. The doctor and/or Merlin are concerned about the scars and/or broken bones or bone fractures that didn't heal properly.

"When was the last time you ate?" Or Eggsy's first meal at Kingsman. He's not particularly gross or rude about eating; he just eats very fast. Roxy or Merlin is concerned. In other words, Eggsy has food insecurity issues.

"What's his story?" Or during or after TGC: Ginger Ale or Champ is curious about Eggsy, and ask Harry what Eggsy's story is. Or maybe they ask Eggsy himself

Songfic based on "Waiting For Superman" by Daughtry about Michelle waiting for Lee to come back home even after Harry told her he was dead.

Songfic based on "Save Me" by Jelly Roll

Songfic based on "How to Save a Life" by The Fray

Eggsy meets Merlin's nephew, who is fancast as Richard Madden. They hit it off pretty well. (You can make up the name of Merlin's nephew.)

Merwin: Eggsy and Daisy convince Merlin to watch Brave with them.

Eggsy dresses up as Robin Hood for Halloween. 🔥🔥🔥🥵🥵🥵

Arrow x-over: Kingsman needs the Green Arrow's help.

Reacher (TV) x-over: Tequila tries to recruit Reacher.

Reacher (TV) x-over: Dixon or Neagley is recruited to Statesman to be the new Ginger-Ale

Supernatural x-over: While doing recon on what Kingsman believed to be a Satanistic cult, but is actually a coven, Eggsy gets de-aged to 4 years old (mind and body). Harry (or Merlin or Harry and Merlin or all of Kingsman) takes care of him until they can turn him back. Harry or Merlin knows someone in the British Men of Letters and makes some calls to get help reversing the spell. (GEN or Merlahad FIC)

Constantine (Arrowverse) x-over: While doing recon on what Kingsman believed to be a Satanistic cult, but is actually a coven, Eggsy gets de-aged to 4 years old (mind and body). Harry (or Merlin or Harry and Merlin or all of Kingsman) takes care of him until they can turn him back. Someone at Kingsman knows John Constantine and gets in contact with him to ask for his help. (GEN or Merlahad FIC)

[drabbles-mc]

Better In Person

Harry Hart x John Wick

Written for the Fic in a Box 2023 Exchange!

Warnings: 18+, pre-canon, crossover

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: the amount of thoughts i have about these two both pre and post canon??????????? too many to count.

Harry stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind him with a deep sigh. It’d been a relatively long trek away from home. The mission itself went smoothly enough, but two weeks on the run felt like it was much longer than that. Harry was looking forward to being able to collapse into his own bed once more.

He grabbed his suitcases from the trunk of the Kingsman taxi, and before he’d even reached the front steps of his house, the car was off to its next destination. Fishing his keys from his pocket, he unlocked the front door and nudged it open with his foot just enough to toss his bags inside. Before he walked in, he reached and pulled the mail from his mailbox. He always had someone on deck to check in on Mr. Pickle but he never remembered to ask them to check his mail for him as well when he was going away for more than a couple days. Luckily it wasn’t as though he was getting so many letters that it would be a problem. There was a fair amount gripped in his hand as he finally crossed the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him, but they didn’t get another thought from him once he heard Mr. Pickle whining from his kennel on the other end of the house.

The closer he got to the living room, the more clicking of claws on the wood he could hear. The sound of his excited barking and whining brought a smile to Harry’s face, easing the blow of the exhaustion that he was feeling.

Kneeling down, Harry flipped the flimsy lock that kept the door to the kennel and with a surprising amount of strength for such a tiny thing, Mr. Pickle burst through the door and right into Harry. If he’d been any larger he would’ve sent Harry toppling to the floor. As it stood, Harry simply scooped the dog up into his arms as he continued to wriggle around and try to kiss Harry’s face.

Harry walked to the back of the house, opening the door that led into the small back yard that he’d been afforded. He wondered if he had chosen a bigger dog if the agency would’ve found him a house with a bigger back yard. As he watched Mr. Pickle wander around, Harry reached up and started to loosen the tie around his neck, opting to undo the top button of his shirt while he was at it. Leaning against the doorframe, he let out another sigh, but this one was one of relief. Now it felt like he was home.

It didn’t take long for Harry’s dog to want to go back inside. He scurried up the steps and right between Harry’s legs to get inside the house. Harry was smiling and shaking his head as he shut and locked the back door behind them both. Going back to the front doorway, Harry knelt down to untie his shoes. Leaving them by the door was a much more viable option now that Mr. Pickle had grown out of the phase of gnawing on everything that was left below his eye-level.

As he was going to stand back up and toe his shoes off, Mr. Pickle must have gotten hit with a second wave of excitement, because he sprinted across the room and attempted to jump into Harry’s arms again. And, even though he was a small dog, he was just large enough to throw Harry off-kilter when he was in the middle of trying to get out of a crouching position. Reaching up, he tried to grab the edge of the table that was beside him to give him a little bit of balance back. However, all it served to do was nearly knock the table over as well, causing the mail to fall and scatter all over the floor.

Harry huffed as he somehow managed to keep both the table and himself from falling completely to the floor. His annoyance was short-lived, however, when he saw the happy and expectant look on his dog’s face as he stood right in front of him, tail still wagging. The frown on Harry’s face shifted into a grin as he shook his head and finally managed to get himself back upright.

Hands on his hips, he looked back and forth between Mr. Pickle and the mess of mail that was on the floor now. Taking a deep breath, he leaned down to start cleaning it all up. He figured that he’d take the time now to see what each letter was about since he hadn’t bothered to look before. Most of it he’d end up tossing, but there were a few important ones in the mix, like bills that needed to be paid. The one that stood out to him the most, though, was a postcard. There would only be one person who would send him a postcard, and it’d been months since he’d last gotten one.

He swiped it up off the floor, tossing the other letters back onto the table where they’d previously been. He looked at the picture on the front—an artsy photograph of the colosseum in Rome. He frowned in thought as he flipped it over to the back. There was no return address, which only solidified his belief about who had sent it.

“It’s better in person.”

There was nothing else written on the back. Harry couldn’t do anything else besides let out a laugh. One sentence. All those months waiting on a response from after the fall-out of everything and the way that he broke the silence was with four words and a postcard. It felt as fitting as it was infuriating.

Harry flipped the card back over so that he was looking at the photograph again. “Could’ve put a phone number, you know,” he mumbled, like there was anyone around to hear him besides Mr. Pickle.

He left his bags by the door then, doomed to be forgotten for the foreseeable future. He walked towards the kitchen, Mr. Pickle hot on his heels like he was waiting on a treat. Striding over to the refrigerator, Harry looked at the picture for a moment longer before tacking it to the fridge with one of the magnets that he had there.

Despite the fact that he had a laundry list of things that he could be doing, Harry found himself standing there staring at the fridge, arms crossed over his chest. He stood there long enough for Mr. Pickle to come and join him, plopping down right between his feet and staring in the same direction even though he hadn’t the slightest clue what Harry was looking at.

Harry’s thoughts were flying. He had a million questions that he was fairly certain he wasn’t ever going to get answers to. It’d been months since he’d heard anything from John. Their communication had been sporadic at best once the organization split in two—irreconcilable differences is how they phrased it, and in Harry’s opinion that was putting it lightly. It was inevitable, in his mind. Just as inevitable as he and John ending up on opposite sides of the split. They’d always been wired just differently enough and it had finally caught up to them.

They had promised to try. It was the best that they each could offer while still being honest. There was no use in trying to provide guarantees when they lived the type of lives they did—that was a mutual understanding between them at least. They promised to try, whatever that would end up looking like given the circumstances. It was an unspoken rule but they knew that they weren’t supposed to be in contact anymore after the split. For all they knew they could very well end up being on opposite sides of the same fight one day.

They should’ve stopped reaching out the second ink hit paper. But they didn’t. Of course they didn’t. But the thing was, no one ever found out. The world didn’t crumble and burn around them. So, they kept in touch. A postcard here, a letter there. Things with no return address, no sign-off.

All of the memories, along with all of the heartache, came washing over Harry as he stood there staring at the colosseum. He would’ve spun out about it for the rest of the night if Mr. Pickle hadn’t started whining at his feet asking for dinner.

One day went by. Then another. Every time Harry had to walk through his kitchen, or grab something from the refrigerator, he would pause and he would stare. He would try to figure out if this meant that he should be sending something back. He wondered if they were back on even ground again. John hadn’t ever really given him a goodbye before when he stopped mailing him back. Was this supposed to suffice for that? Part of him couldn’t help but to think that even if John had been standing there in the kitchen in front of him he wouldn’t have gotten a straight answer out of him. A man of few words sometimes to the most infuriating extent.

Harry was sprawled out on the couch with a book in his hand, a blanket and Mr. Pickle on his lap. Music was playing from the radio, a light crinkle of static overlaying the melodies. It was a quiet, peaceful evening. It was the quietest that the inside of Harry’s head had been since he got home a couple days before.

He was halfway through turning the page of his book when suddenly Mr. Pickle shot up, jumping off of the couch and taking off towards the front door while barking incessantly. Harry lowered his book, listening intently to try and figure out just what it was that his dog was barking at. The couple who lived a few doors over had parties that got a little rowdy every now and again. Neither Harry nor Mr. Pickle were fans of that but it usually wasn’t enough to illicit such a strong reaction out of him. Setting the book to the side, Harry got up off the couch and went to check and see if someone had turned up at the wrong house, or simply stumbled a little too close on their way to their taxi.

What Harry wasn’t expecting was to open the door and finding John standing there, his bag slung over one shoulder. His face was nearly neutral in stark contrast to the shock written all over Harry’s.

“J-John?” he stammered out.

“Did you get the postcard?” he asked, the lift of the ends of his lips so slight that no one but Harry would have even been able to clock it.

Harry’s surprise morphed enough to allow him to laugh as he nodded. He wanted to reach out and pull John into him, yank him inside and lock the door before the world could try to rip him away again. But for as much as he wanted that, he couldn’t help but to worry that if he tried to do it he would just evaporate into thin air. It almost seemed too good to be true.

“You know the answer to that,” Harry finally got himself to say, tentative happiness starting to bleed into every word. He caught the lift of John’s eyebrows, the only indicator that he was at all surprised, and Harry couldn’t help but to laugh as he elaborated. “No stamp on it. Assume you hand-delivered it.” He opened the door wider, stepping to the side. “Come on, then.”

Once John crossed the threshold into Harry’s house, Mr. Pickle was weaving through his legs. His barking had stopped, panting and a happily wagging tail in its place. John couldn’t help but to smile down at the dog, one that he had found himself missing more than he would ever admit to as the months had gone by. Despite being adamant that small dogs were never his thing, even he had to admit that Mr. Pickle had some sort of odd charm about him.

John let his bag drop to the floor, going back and forth between kneeling down to scoop the dog up in his arms and turning around to face Harry again. Finally he turned on the ball of his foot, nearly slamming directly into Harry’s chest in doing so. He let out a quiet oof as he stopped himself from toppling backwards. There was a quick remark on the tip of his tongue about how close Harry had gotten so fast, but he didn’t get to say it.

Harry’s hands gripped onto John’s jacket, leather clutched tightly between his fingers. Before John’s brain could even try to move and catch up with any of it, Harry’s lips were crashing into his. John couldn’t do anything but give into it, didn’t want to do anything other than give into it. Harry let go of his jacket only for his hands to slide up and rake back through John’s hair, pulling him closer once they rested on the back of his head.

When they finally came back up for air, Harry only put enough distance between the two of them so that he could get a good, clear look at John’s face. Reaching, he lightly carded his fingers through the locks that were almost long enough to start framing his face.

“You grew it out,” Harry remarked, his voice soft in contrast to the intensity with which he’d just kissed the man in front of him.

“Trying to,” John answered, unable to look anywhere but at Harry as Harry looked at him.

Harry stopped looking at John’s hair long enough to look into his eyes again. “Are you alright?”

John chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He paused, picking apart Harry’s expression. “I just wanted to see you. And I was finally able to.”

“And the postcard?”

He shrugged, a small smile starting to play at his lips. “Warning shot.”

It got Harry to laugh. “Right.” He shook his head, still smiling. “Did you even see the colosseum?”

John nodded. “I did.” He gestured to the kitchen. “Right there on your fridge.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “John.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Wasn’t really there to sight-see—you know how it goes.”

Harry hummed in acknowledgment, giving a slow nod. His face sobered slightly as the weight of John’s statement finally hit him. The weight of it was unintended, but it didn’t soften the blow of it. Still, Harry managed a small if not weary smile as he said, “I know how it goes, yes.” He gave it a beat but then when he saw the look on John’s face, he made a conscious effort to not let his sour thoughts get the best of him. “How would you know if it was better in person, then?”

John gave him a small smile, a shrug. “Always is.”

“Same reason you don’t send photographs of yourself, I assume?”

“Yeah,” John remarked, not wanting to sound amused and failing, “that’s why.”

The two of them stood there in the entryway of Harry’s house, quiet for a couple more seconds. It took a few more after that for Harry’s mind to finally catch up with the reality of the situation at hand. The two of them could only stand there for so long. Without another word Harry reached down and took John’s bag off the floor. He knew him well enough to know that if he tried to phrase it as an offer or a question, John would just come back with a short, albeit amusing, remark that wouldn’t act as a real answer for anything.

Since Harry took the bag, John made himself busy by finally leaning down and scooping the dog up and carrying him while he followed Harry through the house. Neither of them said anything, but as they walked, made their way up the stairs, John couldn’t help but to try and notice everything about the place where Harry was now spending all of his time. It was so different from his own, so different from the place that the two of them used to share before as well.

“You can always come back, you know,” Harry said when he got to the top of the stairs, turning the corner to head down the hall to his room. There was a hint of smugness in his tone as he added on, “And next time you can take notes. Or pictures.”

John followed behind him, shaking his head, glad that Harry couldn’t see the smile on his face. “No.”

“No? No next time?”

“No—it’s always better in person anyway.”

[panickedpansexualprincess]

Me: I'm trying to figure out exactly how much about amnesia Waka knows.

Enfys: Waka only know enough to know the chemical compound of the amnesia darts.

Me: /cracks up laughing, but they're probably not wrong 😂🤣

[catherinevongro]

I have an abandoned work because I wanted to try something interesting with an ability. And then a wrote some and realized that I had characterized this guy basically opposite of this ability. That being said, I've read 10s of fics with the characterization I would have used. But it wasn't right for me, for this story. So..... abandoned.

I have a lot of feelings about the rise of he would not fucking say that attitudes in fandom spaces and the paralysing effect it can have on creators. As a writer i think it’s important to just write what feels true to you and not what you think others will “approve” of. Like even as a reader i have enjoyed a variety of different characterisations that all work because the writer makes them work for a particular story. And a fic that’s written out of character to some will be in character to others. Writing fic is not your job you’re not being paid it’s your hobby please. Make them as close to canon as possible. Make them completely different. Who cares! Have fun! Have so much fun! There is an audience for every kind of fic and every kind of character interpretation i promise

[masterlistmaker]

Special Agent Lokitty Masterlist

This blog archives all of @specialagentlokitty 's works into masterlists so they are easy to find. Please read through the Navigation section to help you find the fics you're looking for!

Updated through: end of 8/23

Navigation:

Under the cut, you'll find the list of fandoms that Lokitty writes for (or previously wrote for). The link will take you to a second masterlist of character x reader ships. This is where it can get tricky:

reader lists are lists which have character x reader works

specific!reader lists are lists which have character x reader works where the reader's relation to the character is more specified (ex. daughter!reader, student!reader, etc.)

all readers lists are lists which have character x reader and character x specific!reader works.

NOTE: Characters that have all readers lists will NOT have reader and specific!reader lists. all readers lists contain all the works for that character and are sorted by relation. What list a character has is entirely dependent on the number and type of works Lokitty has written.

From there, you can pick the character-reader relation, open the list link, and find all the fics you're looking for! If you're confused, play around with the links. You'll find what you're looking for.

If you're looking for crossover fics, pick one of the fandoms in the crossover. At the end of that list there is a Crossover Works link. You should be able to find the fic there.

other important notes:

some lists are short and list all the characters and their works without having extra links. These are easy to navigate.

reader traits such as male!reader and autistic!reader are listed next to the fic title and DO NOT have seprate lists.

all fics are (generally) listed from oldest to newest.

I tried my best to sort out all the crossover works, but this was already a huge project and some probably slipped through the cracks. I sorted everything to the best of my abilities, but it would have been impossible to read through every single work (and I'm unfamiliar with most of these fandoms). If you find a fic that isn't where it belongs or is missing lables/ wrong labels, please message me to let me know.

Lists are always under light construction. As Lokitty writes, sometimes things must be reorganized. Any major changes to navigation will always be noted above!

Fandom List- Sorted

Movies

Avengers/Marvel

Harry Potter

The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings

Twilight

Kingsman: The Secret Service

DC Batman

Avatar (film series)

TV Shows

Crime Drama:

Castle

Criminal Minds

The Mentalist

NCIS

NOLA

Sherlock

Fox 911

Bones

Comedy Dramas:

Ackley Bridge

Brooklyn 99

Friends

The Big Bang Theory

Downton Abbey

Sci-Fi/Fantasy:

Doctor Who

Lucifer

Merlin

Supernatural

Teen Wolf

The Vampire Diaries

Wednesday

The Witcher

The Umbrella Academy

Fate: The Winx Saga

Medical Drama:

The Good Doctor

Grey's Anatomy

House M.D.

Chicago Med

Anime:

Attack on Titan

Avatar (ATLA and LOK)

Blue Exorcist

My Hero Academia

Naruto

Tokyo Ghoul

Castlevania

Durarara!!

Kuroku's Basketball

Haikyuu

Others

MeChat

Percy Jackson

Skyrim

Buzzfeed Unsolved

[lolia21]

At work, just had a thought. I need kingsman/ call of duty crossover. Where ghostsoaps adopted kid meets hartwins adopted daughter Daisy (eggys sister) and they just kick ass and solve crime together. Ghostsoaps kid is just this tough as nails brawler type and Daisy is this dainty smooth spy type. They both bond over how much they miss and kind of resent their parents. But still love them. Someone make that fic.

[anarchycox]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @sulkybender thank you!

How many works do you have on ao3? 394

What's your total ao3 word count? 5,475,684 (dang)

What fandoms do you write for? Currently I write for ATLA, One Piece and newly Jujutsu Kaisen

What are your top fics by kudos? a. The Courting Season b. Your Scent Calls Me c. I was Pledged to You d. My Name is Hidden on Your Tongue e. If You're Never Going to Shut Up (all are Witcher fics)

Do you respond to comments? Always!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? A kingsman fic called Went Down to the River and Prayed, Merlin was a kelpie and it was just a grim fic and the ending was happy/sad

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? That's all of them - I write fic for the happy fluffy feelings

Do You Get Hate on Fics? Sometimes yeah, less since I archive locked. People yelling at me that I don't edit enough, one time I wrote a character wrong because I didn't give them enough boobs, one person really really hated it when I wrote that Jaskier was a virgin when he was 20, one person felt I was incredibly ableist on a story where a character was trying to come to terms with new disability.

Do You Write Smut? Why yes, yes I do. 194 of that 394 are rated M or E for the sex

Do You Write Crossovers - Nope!

Huh there was no question 11 in @sulkybender post so I'll make one up...Do you write archive warnings? Not a lot, never MCD, sometimes underage just because writing teen fictional characters

Have you ever had a fic translated? A lot, chinese, russian, few other languages I think? It is always a huge compliment to me, and as long as I am credited as the original author I am fine with translations.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes with the incredible @thenerdyindividual we have written a couple fics together and they are great fics!

What's your all time favourite ship? Sorry I sail an armada no one fav

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have a file named Old Man Hawke in my scriviner files that I love but don't think it will ever be finished. But never say never you know?

What are your writing strengths? Characterization, no matter the au the characters still feel like them

What are your writing weaknesses? Transitions between scenes, I run dialogue heavy

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic? Haven't felt the need for it, like previous said.

First Fandom you wrote for? Dragon Age

Favourite Fic you've written? Fuck you I have 394 fics, that is too cruel to answer.

Tagging @harpyienkind @bluewonderer @thenerdyindividual

[tessa-quayle]

THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD.  So excited.  As a fan of Westworld and obviously our favorite brown-eyed cowboy, this is the coolest cross-over.

This first chapter is fire.  The way Eric’s emotional abuse is portrayed is effectively chilling and realistic.  It makes you that much more relieved and happy for the reader phoenixing in this new series (phoenix rising from the ashes) and free.  Free to have Jack.  🤪❤️

Chapter 1: I Once Had a Different Path

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"

Summary: It's only been a year.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: T, discussions of a bad relationship, drinking, little bit of angst, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Welcome back to Westworld Whiskey! Almost the moment I finished Cognitive Dissonance the idea for this fic leapt into my head, and I've been trying to figure it all out since! The outpouring of love for this story makes me unreasonably giddy, and I am so excited to share what Jack and Sugar have been up to.

This story takes place exactly a year after the events of Cognitive Dissonance. Honestly, the Westworld timeline is confusing as heck, and so much happens that the public wouldn't know or see, so in terms of the show it's taking place after the fall of the Delos theme parks early in season 3. I'm taking some liberties with how Westworld and the world around it works, but we should all have a good time because of it. For those not as familiar with later seasons, the "real world" takes place in 2053 in a modern futuristic setting.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The glow of sun on your back, baking into your skin and spreading golden through your limbs, makes today feel like a really freaking good day. You’re wearing your favorite outfit, your shoes are comfy on your feet, and the air is just warm enough that you don’t have to wear a heavy jacket. When the door to the coffee shop schicks open, the uplifting scent of dark roast and cinnamon sugar practically dances on your tongue.

Strike that. A fantastic day.

Lacey is already at her favorite sitting spot, a low table with two high-backed armchairs jammed in a corner far from the automated baristas and hiss of milk froth. She catches sight and waves, bright peony pink in her chiffon dress. Curled in the chair she’s akin to neapolitan ice cream, and just as cool when she gestures to your waiting cup. Not before jumping up to give you a hug, though.

“I’m so glad to see you! It’s been too long!” she exclaims, a sentiment you’ve often heard from long-lost acquaintances but Lacey puts every ounce of honesty behind it. You give her another squeeze before settling in your proffered chair, cradling the thick retro ceramic mug in your hands.

“Well you’ve been pretty busy, Mrs. Hughes,” you sing-song, back, knocking your shoes off so you can settle more comfortably. “How was the honeymoon? The photos were gorgeous.”

You descend into vacation chatter, looking at photos on Lacey’s phone and laughing over whatever little anecdote she shares. The coffee buzzes pleasantly in your veins, bittersweet on your tongue. The sun streams in the café window and drapes warmth across your shoulders again. 

It feels like the perfect day.

"How's married life treating you?"

Lacey smiles, bright enough to crinkle her whole face, and the radiance of it blooms in your chest.

"Not much different really, which is probably for the best," she says, taking another sip of her coffee. You're prepared to ask her something else, some follow-up question, when she reaches over and squeezes your hand.

"You look really good, too," she says, her eyes softening. "I know it was hard, with the wedding and everything going on with Eric at the same time, but...you look so much happier."

Your throat tightens, but it's a welcome feeling for once.

"I am. Much happier."

She’s right. It was hard. Once you were alone with your thoughts, your decision made, all of the terrifying reality had crashed down on you. You’d sobbed in your car, half curled in the driver's seat, trying to will yourself to go inside and face Eric. 

It didn’t get any better once you finally did. The shouting, the accusations, the tears, and shockingly a chair kicked against the wall so hard it left an ugly dent. He never laid a hand on you, but the anger raked across your pounding heart, the cruelty sinking into your flesh like teeth. You grabbed just enough of your things to escape, his bellowing voice following you as your hands shook.

What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?

What the hell did Lacey say to you?

Are you fucking serious? 

After all I’ve done for us?

I can’t believe you’re being so selfish.

What has gotten into you?

The words echoed between your ears while you laid in your motel room bed, too raw and ashamed to call anyone for a place to stay. You woke stiff and silent and achingly alone, and regret welled in your throat.

Were you being stupid? Were you giving up the life you were supposed to have?

But then the day passed, hours spent driving aimlessly with the radio on low, long walks on bike paths lost in your thoughts. And while failure burned behind your eyes, the dreaded whispers of why didn’t you try harder creeping into your brain, the vice grip in your chest began to unwind. A lightness you hadn’t felt in years began lifting your shoulders, your head, even the corners of your mouth. 

The neverending ache was finally gone. 

You slept better that night, and in the morning you called Lacey. She drove out to pick you up, her tight embrace ushering in a new flood of tears. 

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry,” is all she says at first, rocking you back and forth like when you were both young and upset about a schoolyard fight. Then more pointed questions, her face hardening as you detail the slow descent into unhappiness you’d been hiding from her for years.

“He never did anything bad. I just…I couldn’t…” You struggled to voice all the fears that still lingered until she squeezed your hands.

“He didn’t have to treat you badly to not treat you the way you wanted. And if he can’t change, or doesn’t want to change, then this isn’t right for you.”

A fresh wave of tears followed the well-worn tracks down your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She rubbed at your face with a crumpled tissue.

“Everything is going to be okay.’

It took a few days before the tornado of Lacey’s true feelings pulled to the forefront. Later she’d tell you she barely kept her cool while you cried in her living room, Alan instructing her to punch it out at the gym rather than overwhelm you. But barely settled into your temporary housing, she rang you in the middle of the day. 

“We’re getting your stuff.”

“What…?”

“Eric is at work, Alan did a drive-by and checked. He’s waiting with the truck. I’m picking you up and we’re getting your things, then we’re going to leave your key on the table and never go back.”

She was chatting in low tones with Alan when you answered the door, face lined with concern. The stern expression melted into dismay when she took in your tired eyes and sloped shoulders.

“That motherfucker should be ashamed of himself for doing this to you,” she spits out, crushing you into a hug that almost suffocates you.

“Lace, I was the one…” you tried to say, but she cut you off with a sharp chop of her hand.

“I’ve got plenty to say about Eric and what I think about him when everything settles, but I’ll tell you this - I fucking hate him for making you feel like this. And we’re going to get your things and never see him again.”

So you did, emptying your drawers and shared closet - always less room allocated for you than him. Lacey shuffled through mail and tossed in anything that had your name on it in a bankers box. Later you’d have to disentangle your lives, but for now you could take solace in having your toiletries back, and placing your photos and family heirlooms safe in Alan’s truck. He helped move your grandmother’s hope chest into the truck bed, and silently drove as Lacey let you lean on her shoulder. Your childhood stuffed dog sat in your lap, and its gentle weight gave you a moment of relief.

Eric’s shouting through the phone later that night sliced across your chest, but only for a brief moment. You’d left the ring on the counter, and that thankfully shut him up.

The following months had been a blur of canceled engagements, severed services, broken agreements and bitter voicemails. Eric tried a few times to entice you back, forgiving you for having cold feet and wanting to get dinner, coffee, to talk. Your heart tugged at the softness in his voice.

We can still make this work.

But then the cold reality of the situation crept in. He wanted the picture-perfect life he thought he deserved. He wanted to have everything without working for it. And most of all, he wanted you to be grateful for him giving you everything he thought you deserved. Not what you wanted, but what he decided you should want.

That was never going to change.

Lacey and Alan helped where they could, but you didn’t want to taint the excitement of their upcoming nuptials. So you told them you were fine and signed a lease on a modest apartment while you picked out the barbs of Eric’s latest outburst. You picked out a dress for her wedding and were secretly grateful that she didn’t make you a bridesmaid. You didn’t think you’d be able to keep it together in front of all her family and friends. You drank too much champagne and considered a tumble with one of Alan’s single friends but instead threw up in your hotel room toilet and woke up fully clothed on top of the bed. The first thought that greeted you once you could see through your headache was, “Thank fuck I’m not getting married.”

The giggles were sharp against your sore stomach, but with that you finally felt something in you begin healing.

“...and I know I wasn’t around as much as I could have been, and it kills me that you were going through it alone, and on my bachelorette for crying out loud, how insensitive was that…”

Lacey’s diatribe brings you back to the café and your cooling coffee and Lacey’s earnest grip on your hand. You shush her with a few squeezes.

“You were a big part of why I finally got up the courage to leave. And I am so fucking glad I did,” you say, earning another smile that glitters with morning light. 

“I think someone else also had some influence,” Lacey says, looking pointedly over her cup as she takes an innocent sip. Your brow furrows briefly before the implication of her tone slams into your chest.

Jack.

“That was a year ago…holy shit, today,” Lacey exclaims, twisting her wrist to verify on her smart watch. 

“Wow, yeah,” you say weakly, swirling the dregs of coffee in your cup.

Yet again, Lacey isn’t wrong. Jack did open your eyes to a world that could offer the care and comfort you were yearning for. But you’d been forced to push memories of him to the back of your mind. 

Weeks after the breakup, with Lacey lying on your brand new bed in your half-empty apartment, you told her about your weekend with the suave yet gentle cowboy. She interjected with excited “I knew it!” and “Holy shit yes!” exclamations as you recounted the cattle run, the innocent lie, the dinner, and the lust-filled night (heavily redacted, met with disappointment). Once the story was told you laid beside each other, silence stretching until she finally said, “I’m so happy Jack helped you realize you deserve more.”

So were you.

“Did you ever think about booking another weekend?” Lacey asks, placing her cup down so she can more fully watch you, playful smirk making you roll your eyes. “I mean, before all the stuff in the news about them.”

Guests injured in the park. A veil of silence and NDAs falling over Delos. An uncertain return.

You chew on your answer for a moment. It’s easy to chalk up not going back to the current state of the park, but in recent weeks you had been thinking more and more about Jack. Maybe it was some old movie you caught late at night, horses riding across gloriously wide plains. A cowboy hat or two you swore you saw in a crowd, only to be tricked by perspective and light. Strong, broad silhouettes that reminded you of large hands, a clever mouth, a warm embrace.

Tell her the truth.

“No,” you finally sigh, putting your cup down a little firmly.

You couldn’t.

“Why not?”

“It’s all fantasy, I’m not into that more than once.”

You couldn’t bear to see him again.

“Not even a little more fantasy with a certain cowboy?” Her eyes drop to your left hand, and you realize you’ve been slowly rotating the turquoise band she gave you on your ring finger. When you returned the engagement ring it became a comforting weight replacing what you’d given up. You fold them instead under Lacey’s watchful eye.

“It’s not real,” is the excuse you give.

He’s not real, and you can’t have him.

Lacey shrugs, looking at the time again and gathering up her coat.

“Real enough that you changed your whole life over it,” she observes, not unkindly. You stand up as she gathers her purse.

“It was a perfect weekend. Going back would have ruined it.” 

Him not remembering you would have ruined it.

Lacey sighs but acquiesces, giving you a hug and confirming your next coffee date in a couple weeks. They’ve become a sweet schedule you look forward to more than you thought.

Once she breezes out the door, all summer blush and cosmopolitan chic, you join the line to get a coffee to go. The machine at work is dismal, and you’d much rather spend the four dollars. You enter your order on the cool blue holoscreen and step to the side to wait. The warmth of a good conversation bubbles in your veins, a beam of sunlight caressing your back. Even the brief memory of Jack you allow - his hands soft on your skin, the tender brush of his nose on your cheek, how safe you felt in his arms - fills your heart to bursting. A smile plumps your cheek. Today really is an exceptional day.

But oddly enough, your toes are wet. 

Looking down, you can’t help but let out an exasperated, “Oh c’mon you idiot,” as you realize you didn’t put your shoes back on, and have now stepped in someone’s spilled beverage. So maybe not the perfect day, but you’re close enough to home to swing by and grab a new pair of socks. Shaking your head, you spin on your heel to retrieve your abandoned shoes.

You could have done it a breath sooner, or later, and never been the wiser. Or you could have kept your damn shoes on - do we live in a barn, your mother’s voice echoes in your ears - and avoided the issue in the first place. But today, on an exceptionally perfect day, you turn and take a step just as someone passes behind you, propelling your frame into their broader form. You almost bounce, but the stranger catches you by your shoulders, large firm palms wrapping around your biceps.

“Whoa there,” a deep voice says, laced with a southern drawl. It tickles something in your brain, neurons firing at memories close to the surface. 

“Shit, sorry,” you mumble, stepping back to apologize properly to the man you almost bowled over. As your eyes begin their ascent the voice is clearer, sharp as a bullwhip crack.

“You okay Sugar?”

Your breath freezes in your throat, eyes snapping to the man’s face. He swims in your vision before the soft curl of his brown hair, the delicate trim of his mustache, the hawkish curve to his nose comes into focus. If that wasn’t enough for your short-circuiting brain to manage, his plush lips part in concern, deep chocolate eyes darting across your face.

Jack?

“I - oh,” he says, his grip tightening on your shoulders. You wrench back, stumbling a half step away, still locked on his face.

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack

People are looking at you now, agape and struggling to pull in a full breath, your brain tumbling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

Can’t be.

Jack.

Not real.

Jack.

How?

Jack.

“I can explain…”

Then the whole world shifts, and you’re falling.

NEXT

[kingsmint]

Y’all I just gotta say, I fucking love mamma mia. And knowing that Colin Firth plays a gay dad named Harry Bright in the movie musical, and my kingsman fixation is running wild, I’m just gonna say that every time I see a crossover fic or au for it, I get so giddy because to me it’s just Harry Hart going “undercover” as Harry Bright 😭😭

[elvenmother]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @ghostofaboy

1 - How many works do you have on AO3? 21 total

2 - What’s your total AO3 word count? 102,006… not too bad

3 - What fandoms do you write for? I've written for a few over the years but more recently has been The Mandalorian, Kingsman, The Mentalist and We Can Be Heroes

4 - Top five fics by kudos Gonna miss off my actual number one cos it's an original fic

De Tempore - The Mandalorian Context and Perspective - We Can Be Heroes (Marcus Moreno/F!Reader) Shattered - Kingsmen (Jack Daniels/F!Reader) The Art of Crossed Wires - The Mentalist (Marcus Pike/F!Reader) Fascination - The Mandalorian

5 - Do you respond to comments? Yes, I love getting comments and always try to thank people for them.

6 - What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Shattered. Hands down the angstiest thing I've every written.

7 - What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Both Context and Perspective and The Art of Crossed Wires have happy endings. I'm a sucker for fluffy happiness.

8 - Do you get hate on fics? Thankfully no, that's not something I've ever had to deal with.

9 - Do you write smut? Only a couple of times but it's something I hope to get better at.

10 - Craziest crossover? I've not really written any crossovers. I guess Shattered, because I had Marcus Pike joining Statesmen.

11 - Have you ever had a fic stolen? No, thank goodness.

12 - Have you ever had a fic translated? No and I'd love it.

13 Have you ever co-written a fic before? No but it's something I'd love to do.

14 - All time favorite ship? I love Dinncobb, hands down my fave.

15 - What’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I've got tons of wips that will never get finished, but most of them are original stuff rather than fics.

16 - What are your writing strengths? I think dialogue as well as internal dialogue.

17 - What are your writing weaknesses? Action. Keeping track of everything in an action scene can be tough.

18 - Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I've never done it as my Spanish isn't good enough and I'd hate to insult native speakers. But when it's done well I think it can really enhance a fic.

19 - First fandom you wrote in? The very first fandom I wrote for was Re-Animator. A god awful self insert when I was about 14.

20 - Favorite fic you’ve written? Context and Perspective. I loved picking the world apart and getting under the hood of what would make the Heroics tick. It's by far the longest thing I've ever written too.

no pressure tags: @just-here-for-the-moment, @novemberrain-writes, @wyn-n-tonic, @defira85, @ltleflrt

[brinleyparke]

I added several new prompts, including 2 crossover prompts.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

Fic Recs - Other

Fic recs featuring media other than Star Wars and The Last of Us.

Key: 🏴 = dark, 💕 = fluff, ⛓ = rough/bdsm elements, 💀 = dead dove do not eat

Mind the warnings, and please read responsibly. you control your own media consumption.

All Fic Recs

Jack "Whiskey" Daniels - "Kingsman: The Golden Circle"

it tastes like acid by @psychedelic-ink (oneshot)

summary: he came by every wednesday to ask for your services, he's a broken man, you can tell. however, you didn't expect him to break you in return.

Dieter Bravo - "The Bubble"

Celestial Navigation by @write-and-buried (series, complete)

summary: dumped and drowning in a summer storm, you duck inside a coffee shop to hide from your broken heart. Covered in plants and hand drawn images over exposed brick, it seems like a slice of heaven. The owner brings you a blueberry muffin and a promise; you’ll fall in love with him before the new year.

Red Herring by @nothoughtsjustmeds (one-shot)

summary: red herring (n.): an unimportant fact, idea, event, etc. that takes people's attention away from something important.

Dave York - "The Equalizer 2"

⛓🏴The Violence of You by @whataperfectwasteoftime (oneshot)

summary: You’re so fucking predictable. You have a bad night, and you come crawling to him, the only person who can take all this pain inside you and do something with it.

Black Jaguar by @oogaboogasphincter (one-shot)

summary: dave returns home from a job and can’t wait to indulge in you.

⛓ the dress series by @janaispunk (ongoing)

summary: You’re having an affair with Dave York. When he takes you on a week-long vacation, you realize that you have deeper feelings for him than you should.

⛓ Penance by @max--phillips (one-shot)

summary: dom!dave and boot worship

Ezra - "Prospect"

⛓B is for Bathroom Control by @max--phillips (oneshot)

pro-dom Ezra and piss play

I Forget About Time and Space by @psychedelic-ink (oneshot)

summary: you cook for ezra's guests, and seeing the sight of you being so domestic awakens something in him.

⛓ Plaited and Braided by @bonezone44

summary: Ezra gets a hold of a supersonic whip (aka bullwhip) and tries it out on you. There’s aftercare and then there’s sex.

Francisco "Frankie" Morales - "Triple Frontier"

🏴⛓ A Little Mishap by @lincolndjarin (oneshot)

summary: you and frankie return to base camp after an unsuccessful mission, each of you blaming the other for the outcome.

Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Verse)

distracted by @cool-iguana

summary: reader is sick of Miguel playing video games and not giving her attention, so she does something about it.

Max Phillips - "Bloodsucking Bastards"

i wanna do bad things with you by @chronically-ghosted (series; ongoing)

summary: you ask him to bite you, but he has some reservations. you agree to work up to it and test his limits.

Javier Peña - "Narcos"

Paranoid Heart by @goodwithcheese (ongoing)

summary: Maybe reckless hearts come in pairs.

Moon Knight

⛓ Be Lost by @juneknight (series; ongoing)

Marc Spector

summary: after a series of failures to find a dominant, your long time best friend Marc offers to give topping you a shot.

Crossovers

Welcome to the Carnal-val by @covetyou

ft. Dieter Bravo & Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels

summary: Ladies and gentlefolk, adults of all ages, come one, come all, to the Carnal-val. Witness the most spectacular sights, jaw-dropping feats of depravity, and awe-inspiring liberties taken with Pedro characters.

[mongoose-bite]

fic writer interview @nevermindirah tagged me! Thank you, Happy New Year :3

I'm tagging @thana-topsy @baratrongirl @amazinmango @raindrop-rouge, but only if you want to, no obligation.

How many works do you have on AO3?

83.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,369,970

There you go, substantially more than a million words, for the sheer love of it.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Fuck: My Life Nearly 190k of eruriren porn star AU. Of course it's my top fic.

These Weren't Memories ereri canonverse, written after the first season. It's old, and I don't like all of it, but it's a classic of the ship as I tried to make it work as close to canon as I could.

Neither Tarnished Nor Afraid ereri, and the first true AU I ever wrote. It's a weird police procedural, and I think it's up there just because it's old and has had more time to accumulate kudos to be honest.

The Beneficent Gentleman Finally a non-snk fic. Kingsman, hartwin, and my only epistolary story, loosely based on the novel Daddy Long-Legs, and I'm quite proud of how it turned out.

Flight (When None Pursueth) And we're back to ereri; it was just the biggest ship I ever sailed. This was my serious take on a reincaration AU, and it was not fluffy.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Usually I do now, but back in the heyday of the SNK fandom I rarely did, cause there were just a lot of them. I responded to long ones or ones that asked a question. I also think the culture has changed on it too; ten years ago it was much less expected for authors to respond to generic 'i liked it!' comments, but as comments have dried up overall, it's become more common.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

If There is a Cure Skyrim fic. Delphine/Dragonborn, and there is no happy ending.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

95% of all my other fics tbh.

7. Do you write crossovers?

I don't enjoy crossovers. I wrote one tiny Ojisan to Neko/Persona 5 fic that probably would have been funnier as fanart, but I can't draw.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Ooh yeah, back in the day on ff.net in the early 2000's I had a guy get all caps on me cause I paired the PC of a game with an older woman, and a few others that were clearly designed to sap my confidence, presumably because I was writing the wrong ship.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. Consensual.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I'm aware.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah a few times. Very flattering. I even had a translator pass on translated comments once.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes but it's rare. Honestly I've only ever met one person with whom I really clicked as a collaborator. That was a long time ago, and we do very different things now. It's fucking magic if you can find the right person though.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Ereri is not my current interest, but it really was something special. I sometimes wonder if I'll ever write like it's 2014 again...

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I don't have one. The only fic I never finished I abandoned completely.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Description; I can do a lot with few details.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sloppy editing, repetitive phrasing, (a symptom of the former) and the pacing on long serialised fics can get very baggy.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Keep it to a minimum. If you don't need it, don't use it. It's more trouble than it's worth (I'm wearing my reader's hat for this one; my eye will just skip over it.)

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Morrowind.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

There isn't one. I've missed fandom a lot over the past few years, and if I'd wanted to write something I would have.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

My Old Friend. It's barely a fic, really. A man goes back to his hometown to bury his abusive uncle and reconnects with the father of his childhood friend, on whom he had a powerful but obviously unrequited crush on as a teenager. I had to string together a bunch of unrelated prompts as part of an event, and it just turned out really well. I'm proud of it.