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nxrdamp · 1 year

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Could you do a giacomo x reader fluff?

Masc or fem! I don't really mind lol

Giacomo x Fem! Reader - Rock my World

Masterlist

Tw: Language

Exactly a year and a half ago. That’s how long this has been going on.

I, (Y/n) (L/n), the biggest supporter of Team Star, have been telling punks to get lost and stop being bullied for a year and a half.

No, it wasn’t always like this, I was the girl that wasn’t popular, but wasn’t shy and outcasted. I was kinda…there. Not the main character, hell not even a side character. Just kinda in the background of my own story, sadly enough.

No party invites, no crazy drama, no friends, no fun, no good grades, nothing interesting.

Until exactly a year and a half ago.

Team Star changed my life for the better, if I’m being completely honest.

Especially Giacomo, my best friend. I truly wish he were more than that, but he means too much to me, I can’t risk asking him out for the fear of loosing him forever.

Especially now, of all times.

Supporting Team Star from the sidelines certainly earns you a reputation at (Naranja/Uva) Academy. Seems like everyone sporting the damn (orange/purple) uniform has a thing against you the moment you stand up for the ones who were the victims. They certainly don’t see it like that though. They don’t know the truth.

Especially Nemona. Apparently Team Star’s been a pain in her perfect student council’s ass, and they’ve been running around like chickens with their damn heads cut off about their attendance records

So yeah, that’s when my ass gets dragged into things.

“(L/n), (L/n), (L/n)….WHAT ARE YOU UP TO WITH THE NEFARIOUS TEAM STAR!” Nemona said, attempting to act like a tv cop in an interrogation scenario.

“One. What the hell was that” (Y/n) said with a deadpanned expression,”Two, why is it any of your damn business. I’m not in Team Star, or does it look like I’d still be attending class, genius?”

“Language.” Director Clavell warned, standing behind Nemona as the scene unfolded before him.

(Y/n) just rolled her eyes,”You both clearly don’t know anything about Team Star then.”

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW?!” Nemona said, slamming her hands down on Director Clavell’s desk.

“I’m not answering you. You’re not above me. The student council is a damn club, you’re not an adult, you don’t need to act like one.” (Y/n) said, standing up,”I’m not staying for shit like this. Ever since Team Star went off of campus, this school ‘s gone to shit.”

(Y/n) walked out, but not before Director Clavell chimed in,”Sit back down. This is a serious situation!”

“Then act like it’s a serious situation, and don’t get your damn lap dog to do it for you Director.”

With that statement, the door to the office was slammed shut.

———

“She’s an asshole Nemona, don’t listen to her!” Florian said, sitting beside his girlfriend who was letting the tear fall from her eyes.

“I’m not a stupid lap dog….”

“Yeah obviously! You’re Champion Ranked! I think that’s gotta count for something.”

“You’re right!” Nemona said, standing up,”I’m gonna show her! I’m gonna go to Team Star’s bases and try to find her and give her and that dirty language a piece of my mind!”

“Wait, I’m coming with” Florian said, walking beside her,”I’m not letting her or anyone else run you over.”

“Thank you Florian”

“You’re welcome Nemona.”

———

“THE HELL?!!?” Mela said, crossing her arms and scowling as (Y/n) explained to her and Giacomo the situation that occurred at the Director’s Office.

“Yeah I know, right?” (Y/n) agreed,”Thinking she could talk to me any kinda way. She’s not in the position to say jack shit to me.”

“God” Giacomo said,”She still sounds like a real piece of work.”

“She is” (Y/n) replied, resting her head on Giacomo’s shoulder. That was something they always did, as just, “best friends”.

Mela and Giacomo shared a secret knowing look, watching as the blush on his cheeks rose.

“I know this is a, awkward time, but I wanna ask you on a da-“ Giacomo said, almost finishing before being interrupted.

“CHALLENGER ALERT! NEMONA OF THE (NARANJA/UVA) ACADEMY’S STUDENT COUNCIL. CHAMPION RANK ALONSIDE FLORIAN OF (NARANJA/UVA) ACADEMY! THAT SOUNDS DUMB AS HELL, BUT THEY MADE ME ‘ANNOUNCE THEIR TITLES’ OR SOMETHING! GET ‘EM MELA!!”

“SHIT!” All three of them said in unison, standing on their feet.

“We gotta go, LIKE NOW!” Mela said, bolting off to her Fire Type Revavroom.

(Y/n) and Giacomo both shared a look before taking off after Mela, hopping on the Revavroom as well.

———

“Now let’s fight this Team Star boss and get info on (Y/n)” Nemona said after defeating 30 grunt pokémon.

“Yeah…..or she’s right there. I knew it.” Florian said, looking up to Mela’a Revavroom.

“LISTEN UP PUNK!” Mela said, pointing at Nemona,”YEAH YOU. I AIN’T LETTING YOU TAKE MY BOSS BADGE, ESPECIALLY NOT AFTER THE SHIT YOU PULLED WITH (N/n) TODAY.”

(Y/n), who was sitting down on Revavroom’s edge of the top platform, was looking over at Giacomo.

Giacomo, for the first time in his seemingly calm demeanor, was pissed.

He stood up, looking Florian dead in the eye.

“You.” He said,”You think you’re all big and bad because you got your girlfriend down here to fight her battle. Her Battle. Not yours. Piss off.”

“Yeah aren’t you doing the same thing?” Florian retorted, putting his hands on his hips.

Giacomo’s cheeks flushed, looking away,”U-Uh no. We’re not a…not a thing.”

“Poor you then” Florian sarcastically said.

“MY GOD EVERYONE SHUT UP.” Mela said,”FIGHT ME FOR THE DAMN BADGE OR NOT?! IF YA CAME HERE TO HAVE A CAT FIGHT WITH (Y/n), JUST DO IT.”

Silence ensued, causing Mela to roll her eyes.

“My god.” Mela said,”Get over it. Nemona, your not a director stop acting like one. Florida, or whatever the hell your name is, stop encouraging this shit.”

Nemona and Florian looked down to the ground, ashamed.

“Giacomo, stop being a puss and ask her out already. (Y/n), stop getting involved with Team Star. I know you’re always here for us, but bullies will always be bullies, and you are NOT getting involved in that. I’m making sure of it.”

(Y/n) looked up at Mela, and then to Giacomo.

“So I was saying..uh…earlier before we were interrupted” Giacomo started, looking to the side awkwardly,”I wanna ask you out on a date. Not like another best friends date. A date date.

“I’d love to Como” (Y/n) said, standing up beside him.

“Awww!” Nemona said,”But get back to school! Director Clavell is having a heart attack with these attendance rates!”

“Screw off” Mela said, scowling.

Florian and Nemona shared a look of defeat before leaving the base, the grunts cheering as they left.

“Well” Mela said,”Get out. I ain’t one to see you two making out in my base. Go on to his”

The two shared a look, and ran off as well, traveling to the other side of Paldea to the Dark Type Team Star Base happily, together.

Word Count: 1201

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hotchscvm · 3 years

Text

side to side

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 4.6k

Summary: In which you're performing your hit single in front of your fellow Avengers cast-mates and Chris can't seem to take his eyes off of you, catching the attention of a few cameras.

"I'm here with the biggest pop-star of this generation, and she plays the very talented daughter of Tony Stark," the interviewer announced your name, smiling brightly at you as the camera panned your way. The hundreds of thousands of fans at home screaming when your face appeared. "How do you feel with all your nominations tonight?"

You smiled at the camera, giving a small wave at the people watching at home. "Honestly, I'm just glad I was even considered for these nominations. I mean, my girls Taylor, and Billie...they're amazing and I'm so happy to be put in the same category as them."

The lady grinned at you, her eyes twinkling. Or maybe it was her sparkly dress, the fabric nearly blinding you with how it shined under the lights. "If you ask me, you've got a pretty good chance at winning. I mean, your hit single—Side to Side—surpassed, like, a billion views in just a month? That's impressive."

"Well, I couldn't have done it without my fans." you replied, winking at the camera.

It was that time of the year again, where every artist, actor, and YouTuber hit the stage for the People's Choice Awards. With your crazy schedule, and the lack of sleep, you had planned to skip the award show until your friend, and co-star, Chris Evans—Captain America himself—convinced you otherwise. Even with the categories you've been nominated for had been more than a handful, but it was the begging and constant complaining from Chris that made you get off your tired ass and put it into a tight dress.

Your hit single, Side to Side, had everyone anticipated for your performance, unsure if you would be performing until the producers had put your name into the advertisement, making fans blow up Twitter. You were sure they had advertised your own song, along with your movie nominations, more than you ever had.

With nominations of Movie of the Year (Avengers: Infinity War), Action Movie of the Year (Avengers: Infinity War), Female Movie Star of the Year (Amara Stark), Female Artist of the Year, Song of the Year (Side to Side), Music Video of the Year (Into You), Beauty Influencer of the Year, and Social Celebrity of the Year, you had your hands full, which had only made your manager glow with happiness.

"Of course!" the interviewer agreed, glancing at the teleprompter filled with tiny words. "It was rumored that you wouldn't be coming, and a lot of us were upset, including me. Was that just a rumor or..."

"Actually, it's not that far off. I'm fucking—oh, shit—oh no!" you gasped, covering your mouth before anymore foul words could come out on live television. Instead of correcting you, the lady laughed, patting your arm softly. "Can't say that on tv. My bad. I, uh, with everything going on, I've been really tired, and I haven't slept in a week. I just wanted to chill, and accept my nominations at home but someone convinced me to come. So, if I say or do anything ridiculous tonight, I'm blaming him and my lack of sleep."

She nodded, clapping slowly. "I think that's fair. Is that someone, your onscreen father, RDJ?"

"He was one of the many people who unsuccessfully changed my mind, but no, it was Chris Evans. He promised me a day with his adorable dog, Dodger, and I couldn't refuse." you said, grinning at how his face had changed from hopeless to cocky as soon as he brought up Dodger.

"If I'm remembering this correctly, Chris Evans is that very handsome man you had kissed in your music video earlier this year. Into You, right? How do you feel kissing one of your co-stars outside of the movies your working on?"

"Technically, it was still acting, and I have kissed him before, so it wasn't awkward at all." you answered, glad Chris had accepted the role. Not only had it sky-rocketed the views and streams, but it made you feel better that it was his lips you were kissing and not a random model's. Yet, it didn't feel as professional as it had before when you pulled away after a take.

In scenes where you had to kiss the Boston actor, it was as professional as kicking Anthony Mackie's ass in Civil War but the kisses you shared on the set of the music video was definitely more personal. At the time, you had brushed it off as Chris being recently single, but now that you had broken up with Henry, you started questioning it again.

The interviewer nodded, squinting once more to read the words off the teleprompter before asking you another question that would certainly make the headlines. "I've been reading up on all those juicy tabloids and I've got one question that would satisfy my curiosity. Was Into You written about Henry Cavill or Tom Ellis?"

Usually, that type of question made you change the subject or altogether avoid the matter but this time, you wanted to joke about your failed engagement. "Henry, but Side to Side was written about Tom since I wanted more Grammy's considering the last album I put out won me a few. But this time, I'm gonna do it without an engagement."

The woman faked a laugh, surprised by the blunt honesty of your answer. "Um, you certainly do have a thing for British men, eh? I don't want to keep you up, but one more thing, for the fans. They've been dying to know if there's anything going on between you and Chris Evans. Any tea you wanna spill?"

"There's none to spill. We're just friends but it's always amusing scrolling through Twitter to find these edits of us." you replied, fidgeting slightly with the hem of your dress. Like usual, you had wondered if you should've worn something less extra but you had let your stylist play dress up with you for the past few months.

"Of course. Well, good luck to you, and I can't wait to see your performance." she said, giving you a little pat on the shoulders before announcing your name once again.

You got off the little platform, immediately taking Chris' awaiting hand, holding onto it as you climbed down the steps in your dangerous stilettos. Sighing, you leaned on him, trying to avoid the blinding camera flashes. "That was more exhausting than I thought it would be. You need to get me some caffeine after this is over because there's no way I'm making it to the after show without at least a few cans of Red Bull."

"So dramatic." Chris grinned, childishly sticking his tongue out as he guided you down the red carpet, stopping when told to take a picture. He let go of your hand, only to wrap it around your waist as you posed for the pictures. "Are you going to the after party?"

Posing seriously for a few seconds, you let your smile back on your face, facing the man beside you. "I was thinking about it, take a few photos, and head back home. Aren't you?"

"Actually, I was thinking we could ditch it and just hang out. You know, I did promise you some time with Dodger and you could waste a couple hours sleeping." he replied, his hand tightening ever so slightly on your waist. Flashing you a shit-eating smirk, he nudged you a little, pulling you away from the blinding flashes. "What do you say?"

You opened your mouth to answer only to be cut off by your manager, Alexandre coming out of nowhere to rip you away from Chris' arms. The latin man sighed in annoyance, glancing at his watch while giving you the look you've seen too many times before. "You're supposed to be in wardrobe right now. Get your ass backstage, and change before you miss your own performance. As for you, Mr. Evans, Megan wants your ass in a chair."

"I'll see you after." you say, getting dragged by your manager, winking at the actor before walking towards the changing area, the cameras following you until they couldn't enter the area.

Getting ready before a huge performance always calmed you down, maybe it was the smell of makeup or the feel of designer clothing made especially for you, but something about it made you feel comfortable and cozy. It was like a routine, especially with all the music videos and movies you had to film, the makeup, the hair.

They made you sit back, giving you your phone like a child while they made you even more sparkly than before, making sure you'd stand out against the flashing lights during the performance. A performance you made sure no one would ever forget. Smiling, you let your thoughts drift back to a certain super soldier as you were pampered.

—

"Welcome to the People's Choice Awards!"

The room darkened, the blue and pinks lights focusing on the stage as cameras all turned towards your shadow. Making sure your mic was set properly, tried to see past the darkness, to see a familiar face or two but with the headache coming on from the tight half-ponytail didn't help your case. The music started, the beat vibrating, you flipped your hair, and started.

"I've been there all night

I've been there all day (Nicki Minaj)

And boy, got me walkin' side to side (Let then hoes know)"

You rode the bike, belting out in your microphone, the attached headset limiting your movements a little. Gripping the handles, you made eye contact at the camera to your left, winking at it as you pedaled.

"I'm talkin' to ya

See you standing over there with your body

Feeling like I wanna rock with your body

And we don't gotta think 'bout nothin'

I'm comin' at ya

'Cause I know you got a bad reputation

Doesn't matter, 'cause you give me temptation

And we don't gotta think 'bout nothin'"

As you had sung, your eyes had adjusted to the bright spotlight focused on you, seeing a shadow of the one person you wanted to make you walk side to side. While you had answered the reporter's question, you hadn't been completely honest. Some of the lyrics had been written for the Bostonian; or to be more exact, your sex fantasies. With the chorus coming up, you let go of the handles, trying not to fall on your ass as you clapped your hands above your head, the claps matching the beat.

"These friends keep talkin' way too much

Say I should give you up

Can't hear them, no, 'cause I..."

Trying to be bold, you stared at him, his face in particular. The spotlight had blinded you so much that you couldn't see what his reaction was—or anyone's for that matter—but maybe it was a good thing. After all, his gaze always made you blush no matter how hard you tried not to. Pedaling faster, you threw your head back, hoping the motion would draw everyone's—Chris'—eyes on your chest.

"I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side

I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side"

With the help of a shirtless dancer, you got off your bike, taking the sheer jacket from him, and putting it on as you walked towards the front of the stage, moving your hips in to the beat of the song. Resting a hand on a shirtless dancer, you positioned yourself so you were grinding your ass against his crotch, throwing back an arm around his neck.

"Been tryna hide it

Baby, what's it gonna hurt if they don't know?

Makin' everybody think that we solo

Just as long as you know you got me

And boy, I got ya

'Cause tonight I'm making deal with the devil

And I know it's gonna get me in trouble

Just as long as you know you got me"

Sashaying to the little balance beam at the front of the stage, you made sure your hips swayed more than usual.

"These friends keep talkin' way too much

Say I should give you up

Can't hear them, no, 'cause I...

"I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side

I've been here all night

I've been here all day

And boy, got me walkin' side to side"

A few seconds after your note ended, you strike a pose on the balance beam, posing for a few more seconds while the cameras turned their attention away from you and onto the queen of rap herself: Nicki Minaj. The leather, pink bodysuit was identical to yours except for the color, her attitude fitting the badass outfit. She began to walk towards the stage, never breaking eye contact with the camera in front of her while the men pretending to work out to the choreo.

"Uh, yeah

This the new style with the fresh type of flow

Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle

Come through yo, get you this type of blow

If you want a ménage, I got a tricycle

All these bitches' flows is my mini-me

Body smoking, so they call me Young Nicki Chimney

Rappers in they feelings 'cause they feelin' me

Uh, I-I give zero fucks and I got zero chill in me

Kissing me, copped the blue box that say Tiffany

Curry with the shot, just tell 'em to call me Stephanie

Gun pop, then I make my gum pop

I'm the queen of rap"

By the time she had finished her verse, you had caught up with the multitasking of both working out and singing, able to use your full singing capabilities for your high note. Nicki joined you on stage, hyping up the crowd while you built up for the high note, almost every camera pointed at you except for the one focused on capturing the headline-worthy expression slapped on Chris' face.

"These friends keep talkin' way too much

Say I should give em up

Can't hear them, no, 'cause I...

"I've been here all night (Been here all night, baby)

I've been here all day (Been here all night, baby)

And boy, got me walkin' side to side (Side to side)

I've been here all night (Been here all night, baby)

I've been here all day (Been here all day, baby) (Ooh, baby)

And boy, got me walkin' side to side (Side to side)"

Both you and Nicki motioned for the dancers to come towards you, curling your index finger at the sexy men. Singing the refrain, you both made them drop to their knees in front of you, as if they were kneeling at your command.

Just as the last note was sung, everyone clapped, the majority standing up, and more cheered. You noticed Chris hadn't done either, still sitting in his motionless while two camera men pointed their cameras at him. Your eyebrows furrowed, thankfully after the spotlight had shifted over to the miniature stage where the two hosts were babbling about nominations.

You were ushered off the stage along with the queen of rap herself, taking a few backstage photos before quickly returning back to your dressing room to change into your tailored dress. Your mind had wandered to why Chris hadn't applauded—not that he was obliged too, but a little something would've nice, especially with all the days put into the performance.

Taking a deep breath, you entered the big room, filled with your co-stars and other A-list celebrities. Little did you know you'd find out the reason to your question in the morning.

—

The loud ringtone woke you up, the sound obnoxious and borderline abuse to your ears. Beside you, Chris groaned, rolling onto his stomach, trying to muffle the sound of the call with his arm draped over his head. Putting him out his misery, you lazily reached for your phone, pressing the green button with dread, seeing the name across the screen.

"Hello—"

"You're trending on Twitter." Alexandre announced, happy with the results of the previous awards show. While it wasn't something as big as a Grammy or Oscar, judging by the amount of awards you had taken home, you became the people's favorite. "Hold on, lemme rephrase that. You and Chris are trending. Number one, world wide."

Glancing at the man sleeping beside you, you sat up, confused by the information given to you. You blamed Chris for making you stay up so late for your confusion. "Um, why? Did I accidentally have another nip slip?"

"What the hell?" Chris mumbled, rolling onto his back, his arm grazing your bare stomach. He immediately took it back, sitting up to look over your puzzled face. "What's going on?"

You shrugged, putting your phone on speaker so Alexandre could explain. Your manager chuckled, knowing you had stayed the night with Chris. He was just waiting for the day you'd finally have the guts to speak about the growing sexual tension. "Okay, Alex, explain."

"As much as I would love to go into full detail, I have other stuff to do so, I'm going to give you the basics. Chris' reaction to your performance went viral, people are shipping the both of you, and there's been thousands of memes made." Alexandre replied, a smile evident in his voice. "Anyways, I have to go. Got some interviews to schedule. Have fun getting your way out of this, Chris."

Your phone screen went back to the home screen, a picture of your family dog, Buster, smiling widely. Looking at Chris, you saw his eyes widened, his hands coming to rest of his face in embarrassment as he fell back onto the bed with a bounce, his head nearly hitting the headboard. "Oh, fuck."

"Are you going to show me what your face looked like or do I have to scroll through Twitter until I find it? Oh! Maybe they edited it in my performance." you thought out load, tapping on the YouTube app. You hadn't trusted yourself enough to log into your official account, knowing you'd probably make a mistake so you opted for having a secondary account where you could watch cat videos without the anxiety of posting something stupid.

Chris' hand snatched your phone away, tucking it in his pocket, the sweats he had slept in was somehow wrinkled, and his shirt damp from the warmth. "You wanna get some food? I'll cook some bacon but you'll have to make the pancakes 'cause the last time—"

"I wanna see your reaction." you whined, reaching across his stomach for your phone. Chris turned his body away from you, shielding the phone from your reach. "Chris!"

He waved your attempt away, rolling off the bed, his feet hitting the floor before you could fall back on the mattress.You poured, getting on all fours, crawling towards the edge. Chris took a step back, brows furrowing. "It's not important. Let's get you some food."

"Fine." you mumbled, an idea making you light up. Rolling off the bed, you glanced at his phone on the nightstand, exposed and easy to take. With quick reflexes, you grabbed his phone, rolling back on the bed until you reached the other side, making it impossible for him to reach for his phone back.

"Hey!" the Bostonian shouted, launching himself on the bed in attempt to get his phone back. He made a noise as you rushed out of your room, locking yourself in the nearby bathroom, laughing evilly when he threw himself at the door. He yelled out your name, his fist banging on the door. "I'm serious! Don't!"

Ignoring his begging, you opened his phone with your thumbprint. How ironic how much he didn't want you to look at his phone when he was the one who insisted you have the password to it. His arguments became louder as you opened up his Twitter, immediately heading to the trending section, seeing both your names at the number one spot.

"Damn, I look hot." you joked out loud, making Chris silent for a second before pleading for you not to continue. You smirked, scrolling through the tweets, trying to find his reaction. "Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to you? Did you fall on your face or something?"

Chris groaned, banging his head on the door in defeat as he heard your almost inaudible gasp, that quickly turned into little giggles. If he wasn't so embarrassed, he would've broken the door down to hold you in his arms. "Oh, no."

Bursting out into hard laughter, you fell into the large bathtub, hitting your head on the wall but you couldn't care less. The expression on his face during your performance had been borderline comical, the wide eyes, the jaw hanging open, the open hand resting on his chin while his eyes stayed strained on you the whole time, never wavering from your body, the sexy choreography making his jeans tight.

Cackling like the Wicked Witch of the West, tears ran down your cheeks, your stomach cramping from the maniacal laughter. Lifting yourself up from the tub, you stumbled to the door, your loud laugh ringing out towards the whole house. You let Chris in the bathroom, his phone quickly taken from your hand but it was too late. The blush on his cheeks wasn't going away anytime soon. You leaned against him, your head resting on his chest, while you panted out a question. "Why did you look like you were trying to attract flies in your mouth?"

Chris groaned again, covering his eyes with a hand while the other rested on your back. "You're not going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Oh, God, no." you giggled, wiping the tears away, beginning to calm down. Glancing up at him, you noticed everything above the shoulders was gleaming red, the embarrassment too unbearable for him. "Chris, you looked exactly like the first time we were forced to share a bed together."

"Yeah, you have that affect on me."

"You gonna tell me why you looked so ... shocked? Or do I have to search through Twitter and go with whatever fan theory makes the most sense?" you asked, unable to keep the smug grin off your face. Chris closed his eyes, wishing he hadn't made you come to the awards show in the first place. You raised an eyebrow, fingers itching towards his phone. "You know I'll do it, Evans."

The man raised his hands, taking them off of you as he paced around the bathroom, deciding if this embarrassing moment was the right time to finally confess. "It's just, you know, the dance was so ... sexual and hot that I probably wasn't the only one looking at you like that. You can't exactly blame me for being shocked, watching the girl I'm in love with—"

Chris stopped as you be watched the colors drain out of your face, immediately freezing when he realized what he had said. Both of you stared at each other, eyes wide, not moving a muscle, barely blinking; the atmosphere so tense neither of you were breathing, waiting for the other to talk. But neither of you wanted to go first, terrified.

It wasn't until you started to feel dizzy that you realized you hadn't been breathing, letting out a huge breath, trying to relax while Chris did the same, his hands shaking, a nervous tick he got whenever he was anxious. You got the courage to speak first.

"What?"

It was better than nothing.

Chris was so nervous he nearly ran out of the room. There wasn't some kind of handbook or script he could read, helping him tell one of his best friends how head over heels he was for her. So, he said what his brain was stewing. "What?"

"What—what?" you replied, unsure if he even said the L word, so lightheaded by the sudden confession.

The actor stilled, eyes widening even further, while his eyebrows shot up his forehead. "What?"

"What?"

"Say what one more time, Evans, and I will make nothing but mac and cheese for the rest of your stay." you threatened softly, getting tired of not having an answer to your one-worded question.

Chris took a deep breath, hands trembling as he clasped them together, hoping to find the right words, hoping his inner thoughts would come out clear, giving you the answer you asked for. "I'm sorry. What do you want me to say?"

"What you were saying before. You know, before you looked like you saw a ghost and almost stopped breathing. I think that would be a good start." you replied, backing up to take a seat on the plush chair. Chris mirrored your actions, putting down the lid to the toilet before sitting down.

"This isn't the way I wanted you to find out." Chris whispered, his blue eyes trained on the emotions that flashed on your face. Your uncertainty of the situation didn't help his anxiety.

"Okay, um, were you going to tell me in the first place?" you asked, playing with the hem of your shirt—it had been a borrowed Patriots shirt from him. Looking back, you realized all the little things he'd done hadn't been because his platonic love for you. "Or were you just going to keep letting it be this way?"

Fidgeting with his hands, Chris peered through his eyelashes, seeing the hurt flash across your face before you quickly composed it. "Scott was hyping me up, trying to convince me to tell you before you got into another relationship. Do you know the real reason I broke up with Jenny? It hurt like hell when you announced you were engaged. Fuck, I couldn't even pretend to be happy because you were going to have the life I wanted with you, with someone who wasn't me. It was selfish and I got really mad at myself for being a dick."

"But—"

"And then the horrible, horrible relief I felt when you called off the engagement." Chris continued, his heart clenching. "Truth to be told, that was the day I found out I was in love with you, breaking things off with Jenny. Of course, I wanted to wait until you moved on, hoping to be the friend you went to but with my schedule, that was impossible. So, you seemed out comfort in Henry fucking Cavill."

"You're in love with me?" you whispered, hoping this wasn't some kind of cruel dream. If it was, you wouldn't mind staying.

The actor nodded, waiting for you to call him names and rush out. "Yes. You can leave or slap me or whatever you want to do but I love you."

You got up, running a hand through your hair. "Okay."

Chris' heart sank, wishing for any other kind of reaction, wishing you'd do something. Taking a deep breath, he got up. "Is this a goodbye?"

Frowning, you walked up to him, taking his face between with your hands, pressing your lips softly to his. You could feel his heart beat, the little organ beating so hard. You pulled away before he could recover from his shock, before he could kiss you back.

"Hello."

#chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #reader insert #marvel #chris evans x singer!reader #nicki minaj #ariana grande #fluff #side to side #song fic

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lsholland · 3 years

Text

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 (𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 - "𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠?"

Word count: 3.7k

tw: addictions (alcohol, drugs), swearing, disease, murder...

genre: psychological thriller / suspense / drama

Synopsis: Tom Holland is Hollywood's #1 celebrity and is adored all around the world. But this rise to fame hasn't been easy for him. With fame comes his own demons: addiction issues, a relationship that's about to end and...he doesn't know it yet, but he's about to kill an innocent woman. How is he going to get through it?

You can also read it on Wattpad.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

"Tom! Tom!!! TOM!!!" shouts a woman in a black hoodie among a hysterical crowd of young boys and girls trying to get this man's attention. "PLEASE!!! I love you so much" her voice crackles, she's sobbing in despair.

He stops walking and stands right in front of her, a sharpie pen between his fingers and an unnatural grin on his face. Even though these people claim they love him, he's tired of them. It's something with the drama, the screams, and the perpetual inconsideration that drains his energy. His straight face says it all, if only they weren't obsessed with his looks, he'd be pleased to spend time with them. But he knows he's just an object of their fantasies. He forces a smile, or something close to it, and accepts to take a picture with her. He stands next to her, his arms in his back, his fingers intertwined and shakily holding the pen, glancing at the camera lens, lost in his thoughts. His body is present in the moment, but his mind is thousands of kilometres away in the universe that is his brain.

And she's so happy to finally have that precious picture that her smile shows all her impeccable teeth; she's sweating and rapidly breathing and laughing with the same high-pitched voice as everyone else; she's just a typical fangirl. All her friends gather around her and whisper as if they were hiding a secret from an alien.

And onto the next one. Same hysteria, same cry for help, miserable for his attention. She hands him a picture of him in a Spider-Man suit and asks for an autograph while she's filming the scene with her brand-new iPhone.

It has to do with the way they treat him. The way they pretend he doesn't notice their weird behaviour. The way they simply believe he's not a human being. That he must be good-looking, happy, nice, and funny all the time.

"We've gotta go" says his assistant as he presses his shoulder with his hand. Tom looks at him with relief and closes his eyes for a second. He lets out a sigh as a soft smile appears on his angelic face.

"A'ight, I'm sorry guys" he apologises, but that's not enough. Many of them start crying and push through the thin barrier to get a hold of him; like monsters that haven't been fed, like addicts when you can't provide their usual dose of drugs. They look so disappointed and hopeless; leaving now would reduce all his efforts to dust. Keeping a good image and reputation is the key. He doesn't want to be hated.

Guilt rushes through him like a thrill; he glances at his watch and gulps. He gives them another 5 minutes for pictures, autographs, and hugs. Even if he's late. Even if he's going to miss his interview. Because he owes his success to them; or at least he thinks he does.

And when he goes into the back seat of this huge black SUV with no registration plate, he slams the door shut and . . . Peace. Finally, the moment he's been waiting for. The pressure leaves his body like a bubble burst. He sighs and relaxes his muscles, his head falling back on the seat. His eyes are closed; he doesn't say a word for the whole ride. His time alone is so rare and valued.

And when they arrive in front of that gigantic building to pass this final interview, Tom prepares to show his usual bright smile and pretends he's happy. Nobody notices what's hidden in his gaze. But his eyes are telling the truth. His eyes show how hopeless he is. But nobody dares looking into his soul. They only see the superficial layer, the mask he puts on every day. Because nobody knows who he is. Nobody cares about him.

It's so much simpler to ignore sadness in other people. We just tend to believe only good moments are worth sharing. We just pretend we're happy all the time because that's what everyone else does. And why would he show his sadness anyway? He has it all: a girlfriend, loads of money, a caring family, success . . . What can he be sad about?

The interview is done, Tom is in the car, cruising in the city. He's finally going home after a long, tiring, and stressful day.

He unlocks his phone and checks his text messages. They're plain and all related to his fame or his work. All his conversations are so self-centred. What are his plans? What does he like? And what's his opinion on this subject? He, he, him, him, again and again!

He's so tired and wants to be entertained. This empty space laying in his heart and brain becomes bigger and bigger. It's become harder to ignore it, especially when he's alone like tonight. Besides, he's too used to entertain others that he almost forgets what it's like to be passive and watch people do things. As if the world revolved around him.

Here we go. Instagram. The most toxic of all social media platforms. He scrolls through pictures of his friends. The famous ones on red carpets or photoshoots; the anonymous ones a drink in their hands. They're all so superficial. All the same. And the algorithm showing him pictures fans have taken of him earlier today . . . Icing on the cake. Why would he watch this? He doesn't need it. But he decides to read what the fans say, because he's curious. Or because he's obsessed with what people think of him. He needs to be known, loved, remembered, at the centre of attention – adored. He wouldn't need to sell his soul to the devil because it's already in him, and he's now paying the price of this sin.

The fans he met earlier, who were so happy to finally see their idol, were bullying him on social media. They aren't even aware of it. All these people objectifying him, posting pictures of his family – invading his privacy – and saying he can't 'write' or 'walk' or do anything properly because he's just human. They say they are joking except it's not funny. Tom's feelings are hurt, again. He should have written 'you're' instead of 'your', he should have noticed there was a hole in the grass and not trip . . . These images are roaming in his brain like a car's spinning wheels when you brake at 60 miles per hour; the pressure of the tyres scratching your mind, and the intrusive thoughts that can't be stopped like the wheel. Ever. And you eventually hit the wall.

He glances at the rear-view mirror and see his driver focused on the traffic lights. He glances around to make sure no paparazzi is watching and takes a flask out of his back pocket. His trembling hands poorly hold it, but he needs to drink something to feel better; to feel energised. He spills his boose on the leather seats and sighs with annoyance. Grabbing his hoodie feels like lifting the weight of the world; he manages to wipe it off and savours the sweet taste of vodka. Just one sip can't hurt.

That's how you know it's too late.

"Do you really need it?" says the assistant in the front passenger seat who caught him.

"It's just a drink" Tom replies instantly, frowning his eyebrows.

"I'm just worried about you, you know" he adds as he turns around and looks at him in his eyes.

"There's nothing to worry about," Tom mumbles as he feels relaxed "I can stop if I want to."

"If you say so . . ."

And even the people surrounding him day and night aren't trying to help him. Everyone's aware he's slowly getting addicted and is wasting his potential, everyone but the fans. Everyone pretends to love him, but nobody truly cares. They're just after his money, power, and fame . . .

It's like watching him tiptoeing on the deck's edge of a ferry and being shocked when he eventually falls off in the unforgiving cold, dark sea.

He smiles when the car stops in front of his London house. That's the only place where he feels like he can truly be himself. Or the last of it. After all, who is he really? Spider-Man? An actor that pleases 13-year-old girls? A failure? An impostor? Or no one at all?

What happened to the young boy who was excited about everything and anything? What happened to the one who used to laugh more than he'd breathe?

He is torn. He can't love anymore. He's had many girlfriends, each one more famous and beautiful than the last, but they couldn't bring him back to life. He truly loved them though. He felt good with them and always thought they were a match until he messed up. Making up a behaviour so they'd leave him because he's not strong enough to quit. Because he is just like this. A kid who can't handle success.

He currently has a girlfriend. Everyone loves her. He thinks she's too good for him though. Too beautiful, too clever, and maybe too famous. He feels like she's achieving much more than he is and that scares him. He can't even make love to her without feeling like he's not worth it. So, he ignores her calls, takes days to reply to a text, becomes cold as stone, distant, and unstable. This is how cowards break up. But she holds on to him.

Once he gets home, he sits on his couch and starts watching TV. His stomach is empty; he hasn't eaten all day but the only thing he wants is to drink more. It's like a voice in his brain that takes control of his body. He sees everything but can't do anything about it. The smell, the thirst, the mind that can't think of anything else. His hands are shaking, breathing becomes uneasy, he's uncomfortable in his own skin; he's a stranger to himself until he drinks. He's desperately waiting for someone to help him. But they're all too busy with their own problems.

He tries to drink from his flask, but it is empty.

He groans. "One more isn't gonna hurt" he whispers to himself as he walks towards the kitchen area. He opens the fridge and grabs a cold one.

And another one.

And another one . . .

The saddest thing about the situation is that he truly believes in his excuses. He doesn't realise he desperately needs help.

Now, the fridge is empty. But he still doesn't feel it. He doesn't feel the uninhibited state he wants to reach. He's still a victim of his thoughts; the sadness, the anger, the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending game.

He glances at his 80,000 dollars Rolex and decides it's time for him to go to a bar. He grabs his phone and calls his assistant. No answer. He calls his second assistant then. No answer.

"It's only 2AM, come on!" he grunts.

Only?

He thinks for barely a second and grabs his keys and gets into his car. There's a night bar in Kingston that he absolutely loves, and he knows he's always welcome there.

As a celebrity he's obviously welcome everywhere. But he noticed the way people looked at him with pity when he spent an entire night drinking without speaking to anyone. Alone in his thoughts that only he knows. It's different there, the barmaid usually talks to him and entertains him. And she just doesn't care he's famous, which is rare nowadays.

He's been caught drunk driving many times, but he was always released without a word because he's so famous. As if all the police officers have daughters who worship him.

Maybe his problem is thinking he's above all. He who used to be so humble, kind, and generous.

He parks in front of the venue, but the lights are off. He rolls down the window and squints to read the paper sticked to the door.

The bar is closed for annual leave.

"Fuck it!" he shouts. He checks on his phone if another bar is open tonight. Miss Jackson is. It's not the bar he usually spends his time in, but the beers are good and it's not too crowded for him. He absolutely wants to avoid fans tonight.

Most of them are underage, it's dangerous for him. One mistake and he'd become a paedophile. That's why he swore to himself to never do anything with a fan, no matter how hot they are. It's harder to respect this rule when he's drunk though.

"Let's go then" he says in a lazy way, the alcohol slowly taking control of him.

His eyes are red, everything he sees is blurred. He can't keep his thoughts straight.

He starts the car and puts some music to lighten his mood. He needs this to feel better. If something bad happens while he's drunk it ruins his mood. And when this happens . . . he starts having very dark thoughts. The kind of thoughts you better keep to yourself if you don't want people to be scared for you. Where your life is on the line, and you don't care about tomorrow because you just want to stop it . . . The sadness; the anxiety; the constant fears. Because the only moment you feel happy is when you sleep, as if you were dead. Tom feels like this all the time, and he hides it well.

But now he's focusing on the moment. The boose allows him to feel better. He listens to this pop song and its energy is spreading in his body. He's pushed by the music; the excitement and adrenaline take control over his body. He's ready to go.

He quickly backs up the car. He's so excited to go to the bar to finally drink some more and—

BOOM! His car abruptly stops, it sounds like a crash. An alarm is wailing, echoing in Tom's ears, making him feel dizzy. The shock was so intense he hit his face against the airbag of his steering wheel leaving his skin half-burnt. He passes out.

Tom startles as he wakes up, "what the fuck just happened?" he hisses. He stays still giving time to his brain to proceed the information and checks his rear-view camera. It's been disconnected.

He jumps out of his car and checks what happened. He collided with another vehicle. A much smaller car with a crushed bumper. Tom's car is damaged as well, but he doesn't care, he walks over the small Fiat 500 and scans the surroundings. His heart is pounding; air isn't traveling down to his lungs. He suffocates as if he were trapped in a cage down the ocean. He doesn't control his shaking fingers rubbing against his sweating forehead. His lips are parting, gasping for air, while his eyes are wide open looking straight to the ground.

For a second, he realises that he can be in big trouble if anyone knows about this. This can be enough to be fired by the Marvel Studios and ruin his entire career, his life. No one wants a drunk superstar to ruin a movie's reputation.

He hesitates. He wants to run away. He faintly grabs his head in his weak hands and is heavily panting. He can taste iron on the tip of his tongue. He rubs his forearm against his mouth and feels wobbly at the sight of his own blood.

What is he going to do? Has someone seen what happened? And if he leaves, what happens to the unconscious person in the car? But if he helps them, what guarantees him he's not going to be prosecuted? And lose it all? But what if he leaves and this person dies? What if they die and someone knows he killed them? Each scenario is getting worse and worse.

There's only one viable option for him.

"Hey, are you alright?" he says as he approaches the fuming car.

He glances around, but the street is empty. That's the reason why he usually loves this place; because it's so quiet.

"Are—Are you okay there?" he stutters.

He opens the door and see blood. Dark, thick, red blood. An unconscious woman with blood all over her face is lying on the steering wheel. Her car is so old there is no airbag. The shock must've been tough for her. She might even have a brain injury.

Tom places his hand on this woman's neck to check if her heart is still beating. It's weak. She needs help or she'll die because of his stupidity, because he's a drunk who can't even check his surroundings before backing up his car. Poor woman whose life is on pause for his mistake. She'll die because of him.

He dials 999 on his cell phone and repeats what he's going to say once someone picks up the phone.

"There's a woman—she's injured! Car accident!" he cries. He doesn't even try to make sentences; he just wants this to be over. "Please come quickly"

"What's your name, sir?"

His body is wavering, tears are streaming down his face – it's absolute chaos in his mind. He can't tell his name; he'd rather die than publicly suffer from the consequences of his actions. He needs to fly away; he needs to escape from this nightmare. He needs to leave, and now.

He hangs up in a hurry. No one can know he is drunk, and he almost killed someone. He walks back to his SUV and catches one last glimpse of this woman's body before closing the door and driving away.

As soon as he leaves, he regrets his decision, but sticks to it anyway. His soul is crying for him to go back there and help this dying life, but his cowardice tells him to hide and wait until this is over. He's reaching his lowest point, and the only person he wants to see now is his mum. When she holds him in her arms, the weight of his problems is bearable; he can even feel relaxed. And he wishes she'd be able to do it tonight. But it would kill her to know what monstrosity her son just did . . .

He's home, all alone. It's been a few hours since the incident happened, and Tom can't think of anything else. This woman's face, her blood all over the windshield, her crushed car.

Why didn't she see him? Why was she driving so fast in an empty street at night? So many questions roam in Tom's brain, it's slowly eating him alive.

He's sobering up as the morning lights glow on his face. It's already 6AM and he hasn't slept at all. He watches himself in his bathroom mirror and only see dark circles, pale skin, and the features of a monster. The broken blood vessels in the white of his eyes give him an evil aspect. He raises his arm and see the pink burnt skin, another scar for life. How on earth could he leave a dying woman?

He doesn't only feel remorse; he doesn't recognise himself. He's lost and wonders what happened in his life to be so miserable he considers his career more important than someone else's life.

He firmly rubs his face with the palms of his hands and takes off his clothes in a simple sweep. He crawls onto his bed and covers his body with a weighted blanket. He's almost trying to forget he exists when he squeezes his eyes shut and stops breathing until his lungs pressure him to open his mouth. Nature has done a wonderful job preventing us from suffocating on purpose. What a bummer for Tom; he would be dead already if he could just stop breathing . . .

He takes his phone, his only friend and his worst enemy, and checks the local news. Maybe they've mentioned the accident and he'll be able to know what happened to his woman. Not many articles have been published since last night. He keeps scrolling until he finds what he's been looking for.

25-year-old in coma after accident in Southeast London, fugitive remains unfound

Tom's heart skips a beat; this article must be about her. For a second, he apprehends and hesitates to read the article. But his guilty mind needs to know everything about what happened since he deserted.

As he reads the article, he gently places his hand over his mouth to stop him from crying out loud. The woman was so heavily injured they needed to put her under artificial coma to keep her alive. She was on her way to meet her dying husband, in the same hospital she's at now.

Such an emotional shock inflicts a profound pain to Tom's heart. He sobs in silence and passes out due to sleep deprivation. He's finally at peace; no thought, no nightmare. His mind is off, and his body is fully regenerating. His brain is solely focused on keeping his body alive. His soul is resting for a few hours until his cell phone starts ringing.

Tom wakes up with a start and answers his phone without checking who's on the line.

"Tom, what are you doing? I've been knocking at your door for the past 10 minutes," shouts his brother "what happened to your car? Dude what are you doing? You've gotta get ready for GQ!"

"Wh—What?" he mumbles.

His brother knocks at the door. Tom gets off his bed and walks down the stairs with difficulty. When he opens the door, the lights blind him, it's too sunny outside. He'd rather stay inside for a few more hours.

His brother checks him out and sighs. "Have you been drinking? The photoshoot is in less than an hour and you look like shit"

Tom remains silent, trying to process the information.

"And what happened to your car, man?"

And here it is. Every memory comes back in his mind like fireworks and his feet are failing, he can barely stand still. He grabs his brother by his shoulder and holds him tight in his arms. He's the only one who can really help him feel better. He wants to tell him everything that happened, but he can't admit he's got a problem.

He's lost.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! What do you think so far of the story? Tom is in a very bad situation, I wonder how he's going to get through it?

Please like this post to be in the taglist.

#tom holland #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland fiction #tom holland imagines

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burntmcnuggies · 3 years

Text

HC: Hawks gets a pimple

Hawks x Reader

Warnings: fluff! Slight mention of suggestive sexual intercourse and cursing! But that’s it! Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7K

Hawks was having a good morning so far. The sunlight peeked through the curtains of his spacious penthouse apartment, letting the orange glow illuminate the usually dark room. His avian like eyes peeked open, dark pupils shrinking at the sudden invasion of brightness. He rose a heavy hand up to block out the light, groaning in reluctance to rise from his comfy bed next to you. Both his eyes opened slowly, remembering that you’d spent the night with him. His golden hues focused in on your sleeping face beside him. He loved moments like these, waking up with you beside him —even though he had to leave you. It always made his heart swell with warmth.

Once he lazily picked himself out of bed, careful not to wake you, he sent a few sturdy feathers to collect the fallen ones he’d littered on the floor and to dispose of them. He gave you one last look with a satisfied huff and a genuinely loving smile. His light footsteps padded against the hardwood floors as he went to his closet and began to dress for the day, leaving his pants undone so he could take a leak before he left. He slipped into the bathroom and out of habit sparred a glance at himself in the mirror. His eyes shifted to the toilet until he froze. WAIT—

Hawks jerked back around to the mirror and rushed over to the reflective glass, eyes shrunken and horrified at the rather large white bump that protruded from his skin, an irritated flush of his skin surrounding the small pore. “No, no, no, no, no. Oh fuck, shit, what the hell is that?!” His bare hands rose to gently poke and run his finger along the pus filled pore. He winced at the touch and pain that swelled around his cheek. The dashingly handsome hero had no idea what was now stuck on his face, blemishing his sex appeal and pride.

In a fit of panic he flew to your side and shook you gently awake. “(Y/N). (Y/N) wake up! I need your help!” You stirred and groaned in exhaustion, cracking your eyes open to see your lover with a panicked expression. “Mmm... what’s wrong Keigo?” Your voice was groggy and tired, laced with drowsiness as your body threatened to lull you back to sleep. “There’s something on my face, I-I don’t know what it is. Can you help me cover it up?” Your brows knit together at the urgency in his voice. Why was he freaking out about some cut on his face? He got small scratches all the time. “Keigo it’s just a scratch. Just put a band-aid-“ “ITS WHITE. It’s not a scratch!”

Your eyes opened in confusion and the instant you saw his face your pupils narrowed in on the irritated red patch of skin that dawned his right cheek about an inch or two away from the corner of his lips. “Keigo that’s a pimple. It’s norma-“ “A PIMPLE?!?!” His loud shouting instantly woke you up, and your ears rung in slight irritation at the unexpected squawking. He was urgently pointing towards the small pus head, anxiously awaiting your assistance. “Don’t yell babe... it’s not that big of a deal, everyone gets them-“ “I’m the number two hero, I’m a model, I cannot have some... some white thing on my face!! What’re people gonna think? That I’m dirty? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Never before have you seen Hawks so upset about something so small as a pimple. He did pride himself on his looks. He spent hours preening his feathers to have them look their best for the public to keep up his flashy reputation. He knows he looks good. Was this an insecurity seeping through?

“Should I pop it? Will that get rid of it?” He rose his hands up, ready to do the deed himself without hearing an answer. “No Keigo. That’s the worst thing to do. I know it’s tempting but you just need to clean your face and put some ointment on it.” “Can you buy it for me?” It was cute seeing Hawks so insecure about a pimple. Every gets them at least once in their life, it happens, but you’ve never seen someone freak out as much as Hawks over ONE pimple. “Sure babe, I’ll get you some. But you need to calm down, it’s not that bad-“ “I’m so ugly.” “...yes Hawks one pimple makes you the ugliest man in the world.” “...really...?” His wings dropped, looking at his reflection in horror and sadness. “Oh my god no. I was just kidding Keigo.”

“Don’t play with me like that. This is serious.” “And I’m serious when I tell you it’s gonna be okay and you need to calm down.” He still had a frantic look in his golden eyes once you told him to relax. He nodded and continued to eye the blemish in anger, hoping it would vanish if he glared at it enough. “Tell you what babe, let’s put a little bandaid over it with some Neosporin and you can just say got a little scratch from a fight with a villain. Sound good?” “You’re so smart, love bird. How did I get so damn lucky, or were you the lucky one? It’s always debatable huh?”

Once he was patched up and covered, he finished getting ready and kissed you goodbye, leaving through the balcony window. He ascended to the skies, wind bursting against his face and sweeping his hair back. His mind was still on the pimple that graced his handsome face. He brought his hand up and scratched his chin in thought. As soon as he got to his agency, he would look up all the fastest ways to get rid of a pimple.

“Hey love bird, did ya get the ointment?” “Yep, got it right in the cart.” Your eyes cast down to the ointment resting in the temporarily empty cart awaiting to be filled with groceries. “So I was thinking about what we should have for dinner tonight-“ “Can you pick up a few more things?” Your brows furrowed. “Like what?” “Face masks, face scrub, moisturizer, clay masks, oh! Get the charcoal ones too I heard those fuckin’ hurt but work good! Foam wash, some skin oil, sunscreen-“ “Keigo are you serious... baby that’s so much. It’s just one pim-“ “Sorry love bird, I gotta go, just use the black card okay? Love ya!” He hung up...

You did as he instructed and bought a lot of skin care products for him, along with some packs of chicken and some of his Georgia WAX coffee. Once you got home and put everything away, you started on dinner. It was rare if Hawks even got home on time, but you always made him some for him to heat up —if he didn’t get take out. To your surprise he came home quite earlier. “Hey love bird! Did ya get my stuff?” “Yeah, it’s all in the bathroom, babe.” “Hair clips?” “I already had some Bobby pins.” “You’re the best.”

When he emerged from the bathroom he had a charcoal face mask on, the messily long strands of blonde hair usually sticking up pinned down to his head and away from his face. You couldn’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face and the avoidance of his “manly” patch of scruff on his chin. “Were you worried it would take off your little beard?” “.....yes.” “I wish you’d shave, I hate it.” “Wh-What?! I thought you liked it!” “It looks like pubes on your face.” His face paled, well, as much as you could see. “Baby I’m kidding.” “Oh-“ he sighed in relief. “I was about to say there, you weren’t complainin’ when I ate you out last ni-“ “KEIGO!!!” He laughed at your embarrassment.

After dinner Hawks finally took his face mask off... or well he tried to. He was whining like a baby at how much it hurt. “Ow! Ow! Fuck! Why does it hurt so much?!” “You told me to buy it, you knew the charcoal one was gonna hurt you birdbrain!” “It said it would get rid of it fast!” “Who’s fault is that for telling me to buy it!” “It’s the internet’s fault for tellin’ me it worked fast!” Eventually you ripped the mask from his face and stared at all the tiny hairs and unnoticeable pores. “Hey look, it-“ you looked up at him and stopped once you saw his flushed red face. “Babe you okay?” “I can’t feel my face. Do I still have eyebrows?” You burst out laughing. “Yes Kei’.” “What about my scruff?” “Nope, gone.” “Liar.”

Afterwards you both put on some face masks and lathered each other up in some lotion in a very comforting way, not sexually, although he made some very sly comments that teetered on the edge. Against your wishes, you both ate some chips on the couch watching TV with Hawks shouting and throwing chips. “WHAT THE FUCK!!! THEY CANT KILL HIM OFF LIKE THAT!!!!” “BABE ITS A SHOW!” “ITS MY FAVORITE SHOW HE WAS MY FAVORITE CAUSE HE WAS HOT LIKE ME!!!” You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily at his cute childish antics. His eyes moved over to you, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“I love you, birdie.” Your cheeks flushed. “I love you too...” “Ah, after three years of dating, a year and a half of livin’ together, and you’re still embarrassed with me tellin’ you I love you? We’ve done worse ya know~” “Shut up. You’re... never around much anymore, and it always makes me happy when we spend time together, but... confessing your feelings... it’s a different kind of happiness all together. Words can’t explain how much your words mean to me.” His expression turned sullen. “(Y/N)...” “And I know it’s cheesy, it’s stupid, but... it’s how I feel... knowing you still love me even when we’ve been apart for so long... I love you, Keigo. Whether you have a pimple or not.” He frowned, eyes narrowing. “You ruined it.” “Really? Damn. Nothing gets past you does it?” You both shared in playful laughter until the masks were ready to come off.

The next day his skin was clear, surprisingly, perfect and smooth with the exception of his patch of scruff. He had taken a day off work, which was a bit odd but, heroes need a break too I guess? “Mmm... good mornin’ birdie~” His deep morning voice rumbled against your ear, shaking your core and making a small tingle twinge in the dark pits of your stomach. “M-Morning.” His lips littered the side of your jaw and down your shoulder. “Are you ready for our fun day off, love bird?” “Yeah, I’m uh... pretty excited.” “Oh yeah? Well...” His hand slowly slipped down your night gown, trailing his fingers sneakily to the hem while shifting his fingers up. He pressed into your skin to slip a hand into your panties, but you quickly stopped his hand. “Later.” “Whyyyy?” He whined. “Unlike you, I have work.” “Oh don’t worry! I already called ‘em and them ‘em you were spendin’ a day off with me for... personal reasons.” “........” “I-I love you...?”

Hawks still ended up being cock-blocked that morning, but he was awarded some juicy chicken with a side of pancakes. The morning was full of playful banter, loving gazes, and small kisses. “I booked us a massage today.” “Oh really? When’d you do that?” “Yesterday after I called your work.” “They let you have an appointment last notice?” He laughed. “I am the number two hero, and there are some benefits to being the most popular and handsome man in Japan.” “I think Best Jeanist tops you.” “Why must you always be so mean to me, Birdie.” “I’m mean cause I love you.” “That’s not how that works.” “...” “...” “Keigo.” “I know, I know, we won’t talk about it.” He’s playfully mean and teasing because he loves you too.

Later that afternoon you arrive at the spa and everyone is gawking at Hawks. Who wouldn’t? He is the most handsome man in Japan like he said. Oh, let’s not forget the glares some of his fangirls gave you, it never failed to make you a bit uncomfortable. “Hey there, we’ve got an appointment for two, a couples massage.” “Oh! Y-Yes Hawks everything is ready for you!” “Ah! Great! Thank you sweets~” He cooes out and sends the lady a friendly wink as she left. His slung his arm protectively around your waist and he kissed your cheek. You pouted. “It’s unbelievable what you can do with your charm.” “Tell me about it! I get a lotta free stuff; discounts, free reservations. All that stuff, comes with being so popular, ain’t that right?” “Fuck off.”

The massage was wonderful, absolutely amazing. It took a lot of the stress off your shoulders and gave you a bit of time to just relax and think about nothing. Your mind was blank, enjoying the silence and feel of someone else’s hands just rubbing the pain and stress away. There was also a very fashionable and professional facial. It was then you realized it. “Hawks, did you book these massages just to get the facial for your skin?” “Well yeah, how else am I gonna keep the pores away?” “You do realize I bought you like- tons of stuff for home right?” “Yeah! But this is more relaxing dont’cha think?” “Well... yeah but-“ “Just hush and enjoy the massage love bird.”

You were going to kill him. Bury him six feet under, you wouldn’t even attend his funeral. He wouldn’t even have a funeral you’d hide the body so well. The massage and the facial Hawks had booked cost way over $2K dollars. But with Hawks and his grade A flirting and charm, the price was knocking back to just $1.95K on the bright side... he saved you $500. Even though he paid. “Hawks why did you book such an expensive massage!” “Well, I really wanted the facial but I got more for the bundle, so I just went with that and decided to relax! You can’t tell me you didn’t like it, love bird.” “Of course I liked it, but just don’t spend SO MUCH money. All this over one pimple!” His face flushed. “Keep it down-“ you burst into fits of laughter at his embarrassment, you couldn’t help it.

He wore face masks everyday after the pimple incident and lathered up lotion before bed, making him all slick when he cuddled you. It was such a clear insecurity you never knew he would have, it was honestly very cute. At dinner when he finally returned home, he heaved a heavy sigh of exhaustion. “I’m home love bird.” He called out with a smile. You approached him immediately with his little face mask and gently pinned his bangs back, putting the cool moistened mask onto his smooth face. “Oh? What’s this? Givin’ me some special treatment tonight? What’d I do?”

“You’ve been freaking out the past couple days, so I figured I’d help you out just a bit.” A smile spread over your lips as you helped him out of his hero jacket, leading him down the hall to the bedroom. He laid his head against your lap, wings nudging your knees on either side of you while he laid on the bed calmly. “Thank you love bird...” “You don’t need to thank me, Keigo. And just so you know...” You leaned down and gently pecked his lips, giving him a sweet upside down kiss. “I love you cause you’re you, not because of your looks. It doesn’t matter if you’re covered in thousands of scars and pimples or whatever! As long as you’re my birdie...” His wings fluffed up, eyes going wide. “I’ll love you forever, my avian mate.” It was silent until he spoke up in a very flustered tone.

“...” “...” “Can we fuck?” “You ruined it, Keigo. You ruined it.”

#my hero headcanons #my hero academia #hawks headcanons #hawks bnha #pro hero hawks #hawks x reader #silly headcanon #bnha keigo takami #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader

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gottawriteanegoortwo · 3 years

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Damstache - Stay the Night

(Sometimes... You just gotta be self-indulgent and write a rarepair. Bonus if you finish the fic and completely forget about it)

Damien and Wilford have been taking it slow since their first meeting. This looks at their first night together.

Word count: 1,460

Wilford was sure he was the luckiest man in the world. Somehow, despite his associations with violence and his reputation of actively seeking people in committed relationships he had a chance encounter with a beautiful man who was willing to overlook all that for a promise of honesty. All Damien had to do was smile, and Wilford knew he was doomed from the start. He couldn’t bear to consider the possibility of breaking the young mayor’s heart!

But as they started going on dates to quiet locations that Damien wouldn’t be recognised, Wilford learned something interesting. Damien had been so focused on wanting to do good for others that he had never taken time to look for a romantic partner of any sort and enjoy life beyond work. Anyone else who asked him out had been rejected. Wilford wasn’t sure how he avoided the cut, but he promised himself that he’d make the most of it and show Damien the joys of being in a relationship.

Date night on this occasion was a Friday evening in Wilford’s home. Dinner was ordered to enjoy while they watched a movie. They sat on the couch together, Damien’s head resting on Wilford’s shoulder, hands loosely interlocked. The reporter wasn’t at all surprised when he glanced down to ask Damien something and noticed Damien had dozed off. Being a mayor was exhausting, Wilford had quickly learned, which was why many of their dates were ‘low-energy’. Not that Wilford minded. It was a nice change from his normal approach of ‘fast, frantic and intense’, which in turn allowed him to better appreciate the here and now. Maybe that was why he was able to remember more of their dates.

A door slamming on the TV startled Damien awake, who immediately began apologising for ‘ruining the night'.

“Whoa, angel, it’s okay. Yer exhausted. We can watch it another time. I don’t remember what happened.” Wilford had been a little too preoccupied with doting over his sleeping beauty.

“It might be for the best. I should be able to get a taxi at this time…” Damien slowly stood up so he could start the search for his phone.

“Why don’t ya stay th’ night?” Wilford’s question had Damien freeze.

“I-I don’t think that’s appropriate. You’re a good man, Wilford, but we’ve only been dating three months.” Both men shared an equally confused look.

“Sure it’s appropriate. I wanna share my bed with ya.”

“W-what?” Damien’s face quickly flushed as he scrambled to grab his phone off the coffee table like it was an act of self-defense. “I thought we had agreed to take this slow.”

“I don’t see how…. Ohhhh.” At last, the penny dropped and Wilford laughed in embarrassment. “I wasn’t askin’ if y’d sleep with me. I wanted ta know if y’d sleep with me!”

“That’s the same thing?”

“Noooo! No, no! I mean, like, a sleepover! I give ya some sorta pyjamas, an’ we fall asleep together in my bed! It’d be like cuddlin’ on th’ couch except, y’know, not on a couch. An' we'd have a blanket.” The blathering explanation helped lift the stress off Damien’s shoulders. He glanced down to his phone and, with a wistful smile, put it down on the table.

“I think I’d quite like that.”

He wouldn’t tell Damien, but Wilford went out of his way to make the preparation for bed as goofy and light-hearted as possible. Even if they were simply sharing a bed, the miscommunication had made poor Damien’s nerves jump, and that wasn’t fair at all! It was why they spent a solid twenty minutes going through the contents of Wilford’s wardrobe to decide which pyjamas Damien should wear. According to Wilford, it needed to be ‘as cute as possible’, so not just anything would do. It was also a chance to show off his clothes, like the tank top with a cartoon pair of sneakers wearing matching sunglasses, or his pink bear onesie. The sillier, the better, all to make Damien smile.

“Wait! This oughta do!” A pale grey hoodie was pulled out from a shelf, and Damien was quick to grab the rest of the bundle before it toppled to the floor and return it to the rightful place. “This is a lounge hoodie. It’s made from fluffy pj material so ya can cuddle an’ be all soft in it!” He offered a sleeve to Damien, who couldn’t help but agree that it was exactly as described. It was hastily placed in Damien’s arms as inspiration struck. “Oh! An’ it’d look so cute with these pants! They’re comfy an' stylish.” The pants - black with pink moustaches dotted around them - were held out on full display with such bravado that Damien snorted.

“You really do buy everything that has a moustache theme, don’t you?”

“Bonus points if it’s pink,” Wilford winked.

The pair took turns in the bathroom to perform their night time routines. While waiting for Damien, Wilford began quickly tidying around to make sure everything looked perfect. He made the bed twice, and fluffed the pillows as hard as possible to make them super soft. Then, as he debated whether to grab a teddy bear to give Damien, out came the Mayor.

Damien was not as large as Wilford, which meant the hoodie turned into a glorified night gown. So much so, the end of the sleeves needed to be rolled up to reveal his hands. The pyjama pants had elastic at the waist, so at least they could safely stay in place. With his hair loose and casually brushed to the side, Wilford couldn't ignore the reality that he was dating the cutest man in the entire world. He would gladly kill for Damien.

"It doesn't look too ridiculous, does it?" Damien wrung his hands in a familiar act of nervousness. Wilford hurried over, pulled Damien close, and kissed both cheeks.

"Yer too fuckin' cute, angel."

The couple enjoyed cuddling on the couch, so it was a natural progression once Damien gained a little more confidence about sharing a bed. At first, they sat together like they would on the couch and chatted casually. Then, once Damien grew tired, they settled to sleep, opting to take a half of the bed each. Wilford did find himself staying awake a little longer to make sure Damien was sound asleep, before rolling over and dozing off.

Just as the sun began to rise, Wilford was yanked out of sleep with the sensation of something pressing against his stomach. His eyes shot open in case that blasted librarian in his dream had gone through with their idea of using the ivy from a garden store to put people into giant empty books, only to instead see someone curled up against his side with an arm draped across the reporter’s stomach and their head against his chest. For an instant, he couldn't remember what happened last night, but relief quickly swamped him as the memories came back to him.

“Mornin’, Damien.” Wilford lifted a hand to rest on Damien’s shoulder and rub small circles with his thumb.

“Mmrgh,” the eloquent mayor murmured against Wilford’s chest. He took a long breath in to give himself the energy to move, but only went as far as leaning more against Wilford to look up at him. “Sorry… I felt warmth beside me." His hair was a mess and his eyes were heavy with sleep, but Wilford couldn't shake the fact that Damien was utterly adorable. As though aware of the thoughts bouncing around Wilford's mind, he smiled as he quietly added, "Plus, I've never woken up beside someone before… It's a nice feeling."

"Isn't it? Lyin' in bed, feelin' all relaxed with yer lover beside ya… It's like th' rest of th' world doesn't exist."

Damien hummed in agreement, settling back against Wilford. "I should have believed you last night. I'm sorry if I made things awkw-" Wilford interrupted with a shush and a quick squeeze.

"I should've asked th' question better. I'm sorry for scarin' ya. But I'm glad ya decided ta stay. It's Saturday, an' we're not workin' today…" Wilford trailed off with a raised eyebrow. Damien, with a brain that refused to wake up, squinted at Wilford with a frown as he tried to figure out what was supposed to finish that sentence. Fortunately, Wilford could see the struggle. "It means we can go back ta sleep. Th' world's not lookin' fer us right now."

Now that sounded like a plan Damien could work with. He gave a content hum as he nestled against Wilford again. This time, he felt Wilford's arm keeping him close. As he quickly surrendered to sleep, the thought crossed his mind as to whether this was what 'home' meant.

#writersofmark #Wilford Warfstache #mayor damien #modern au #fanfic #fluff #(read-more is for tidiness! :D )

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justmemewriting · 3 years

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The Sister (Javier Peña x reader) Part 7 - Colonel Carillo

It was the next morning. You woke up in your bed when your alarm rang at 6:30 in the morning.

"God" you groaned when you saw what time it was and you turned back around. You loved your work, but what you didn't like was having to get up super early in the morning.

You slowly got out of your bed and decided that the only way that you could get your day started was with a nice hot cup of coffee. While your coffee was brewing, you got ready and dressed.

As you drank your coffee, you decided that it might be nice to watch some TV to wake up a bit before going over to Steve's to let him give you a ride to the embassy.

You grabbed the remote and turned on the TV not really caring which channel was on since you didn't know any of the channels anyway.

"Ahora, vamos a hablar sobre Pablo Escobar." the voice on the TV said which quickly caught your attention. Normally, people would tell you not to bring your work home and to leave your work at work, but how did anybody expect you to do so? You were working for the Drug Enforcement Administration. Most of the work you never really leaves your mind. Especially when it's Pablo Escobar.

"El narcotraficante Pablo Escoabr ha negociado su estancia en su propio cárcel que la gente llama 'La Catedral'. Escobar empezó su estancia en la semana pasada." the voice continued.

You sighed. You knew that this was what you came here for, but it was still unbelievably frustrating. How was is it possible for Escobar to negotiate his own prison stay under his own terms? Who would let that happen? You decided to save these thoughts for later at the office when you were going to discuss different plans with Javier and Steve on what to do next.

You continued watching some more TV until you decided that it would be time for you to go over to Steve's apartment.

You grabbed your bag, left your apartment and then locked the door behind you. Luckily, Steve's apartment was only a few apartments next to yours, so in case of an emergency, you'd only have to go down the hall.

You knocked on his door and Connie with Olivia in her arm quickly opened it. Yesterday at dinner, Steve had told you that he and Connie were fostering a child which you thought was just the cutest and nicest thing you could imagine. "Hey (Y/N), so there's a slight change of plans" she informed you. "We were wondering if it would be okay if Javi drove you so that Steve and I could take Olivia to go shopping before work?" "Of course, did you talk to Javier about it?" "Yes, just go and knock on his door. He should be ready right about now."

And so, you did. You went and knocked on his door which he quickly opened. He greeted you and the two of you walked to his car. Honestly, you had to admit that Javier looked a little rough, as though he hadn't slept at all last night. "Are you ok?" you asked him with a look of concern on your face. You might have only known him for a couple of days, but you knew that he was Steve's best friend, so you figured that it was alright to worry about him.

"I am, don't worry. I shouldn't let this thing with Escobar get so close to me, really. It's just really hard not to let it," he answered. "I understand. If you want you can take a rain check if you're not feeling up to it," you told him referring to your date, well you didn't really know what to call it, let's just say get-together, this afternoon. "No, that's definitely still on," he told you and smiled at you nicely before focusing back on the road.

Once the two of you arrived at your shared office at the embassy, you decided to just do some regular paperwork until Steve arrived.

Steve arrived around 9 AM which wasn't too bad.

You, Steve and Javier, met up with Colonel Carillo. Carillo's Search Bloc had just been disbanded which was why he was currently packing up his things.

You were the last to enter his office and by the looks of it, Carillo was surprised to see a third face in his office, or in what used to be his office.

"Agent García," you introduced yourself to Carillo and shook his hand. Javier took a seat in front of his desk.

"At least Escobar is in jail and you can leave knowing you helped put him there," Javier told Carillo but you could tell that he didn't even believe his own words. You knew the terms of Escobar's surrender deal and it was honestly nothing more than a slap in the face.

"Jail?" Carillo asked and you looked at him expectantly. "I know your gringos aren't allowed to do flyovers, but I got some photographs, courtesy of the Colombian military. I want you to look at them and tell me if this qualifies as a jail," he told you and handed you the pictures of Escobar's jail.

"What the fuck," you mumbled under your breath. "He's got a fucking soccer field," Steve scoffed.

"Escobar is moving more coke than ever. Without the Colombian government breathing down his neck, all he's gotta worry about is the Cali cartel," Carillo told you.

You said your goodbyes and left his office.

"I think there's only one way really," you told your two partners standing in front of the board in your office. "And that would be?" Steve asked you. "We have to prove that Escobar is violating the terms of his agreement. If we can prove that he isn't following the agreement we can get him extradited or at least into a prison that he didn't build himself. I mean, look at what he calls a prison. There's got to be something going on there that is violating against his deal," you explained to which Javier nodded in response.

"I agree," he told you. "And if I have learnt anything about Escobar in the past, it is that there's definitely something he's hiding that violates his terms. Now, we only have to find it."

"Let's just hope that we'll be able to find something on him" Steve answered.

It was already late when you decided that it was time for you to call it a day. Steve had already left so it was only you and Javier left in your office.

"So, you wanna go to the bar directly, or do you want me to drive you home first?" Javier asked you grabbing his jacket. "Let's just go there directly," you told him and with that, the two of you were on your way.

In the end, the two of you decided to go to the bar that was right across the street from your apartment complex so it wouldn't have really mattered anyway. Once you arrived at the bar, you sat down at the table and waited for a waiter to come and take your order.

"I can't tell you how much I need a drink right now," you told Javier to which he chuckled in response. "I think I can imagine," he told you laughing.

When the waiter came, Javier ordered two glasses of tequila for the two of you which you two finished rather quickly. Next, Javier, he actually told you to call him Javi, ordered two cocktails because he thought the names were funny but he had never tried them before.

"So, (Y/N). I have to admit, if I didn't know better, I would've never guessed that you are Steve's sister," he told you. "How come?" "Well, you two are completely different. You're just a lot more outgoing. Plus, you can speak Spanish." You chuckled. "That is true. Steve couldn't speak Spanish to save his life," you said and laughed.

"Now, Javi, tell me something about yourself. I mean, Connie has told me some things, but I'd rather have you tell me some things," you told him. "Well, what did Connie tell you about me?" he asked you and chuckled.

"Well," you said and chuckled. "She told me that you had somewhat of a reputation as what some might call a playboy or a macho." Javi put his hand over his chest and acted as though he was deeply hurt to which you laughed in response.

"So, it's true then?" you asked him. "I guess. But I wasn't always like that," he told you "A few years back, I was actually engaged and about to get married." "Good for you," you answered and took a sip of your cocktail which actually wasn't too bad. "So, why aren't you married now? If I may ask." "Well, I kinda left her at the altar," he explained to you. You slightly choked on your drink and laughed. "Don't think badly of me now, okay?" he told you. "Of course not, don't worry. I'm sure you had your reasons. Besides, I'm not perfect either and I haven't had the best dating history myself, so who am I to judge," you told him.

"Hmmm. I didn't know that you also had a bad side?" he asked you jokingly. "Well, there's a lot that you don't know about me yet, Javier Pena."

The rest of the night was just as fun and went smoothly as well. By the end of the night, you were sure that you and Javi were both more than tipsy which is why he walked to your apartment door to ensure that nothing bad was going to happen to you. You weren't sure if he was going to be able to defend you with the amount of alcohol that he had, but it was still very nice of him.

"I had a great time," you told Javi as you were trying to open your door. It proved to be a lot more difficult when you had a little something drink, but after a few seconds, you managed to open it.

"Me too. We should definitely make this a regular thing, " he told you. "Next time we should go dancing though because Steve never wanted to dance with me" You laughed. "Sure, Javi. Thanks again." "Of course. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night (Y/N)," he told you and walked over to his apartment. "Good night," you told him and closed the door behind you.

What a night.

#javier peña imagine #javier peña #javi #javier peña x reader #steve murphy x reader #steve #narcos x reader #narcos imagine #narcos

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medea10 · 3 years

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My Review of Trigun

How did I get into this anime? Let’s just say this was one of those animes that used to air on Saturday nights back in the day that I would every now and then come across while waiting for either Full Metal Alchemist, InuYasha, or Cowboy Bebop to air. But I never did watch a full episode or know a damn thing about this anime. So I’m just jumping into this anime blindfolded. All I know is that this was Johnny Yong Bosch’s first anime role.

Who is Vash the Stampede?

A frequent question that comes up throughout the series! Rumor has it that he wears a long, red trench coat and sports a Mohawk hairstyle. Some say he’s a notorious lecher. Many recount him shooting up their villages to a pile of rubble just for the heck of it. He has quite the reputation as he has a $$60,000,000,000 bounty on his head and is often known as the “Humanoid Typhoon”.

In reality, Vash the Stampede is…a bit of a dingus. He just happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and things kinda get out of hand. But that doesn’t stop two insurance agents (Milly Thompson and Meryl Stryfe) from following him around to confirm Vash’s identity and keep his actions to a minimum. At first, it’s hard to tell if he’s a stupid-genius or just flighty and gets lucky one too many times. But when shit goes down, don’t be surprised when you see this doofus get serious.

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: Okay, what sad company did this use to belong to, Geneon, Bandai, or ADV Films? Oh, Geneon! That means good voice actors from L.A. put in really shitty roles. On the contrary, this was a fairly decent English dub. And on a severely positive note, this was indeed Johnny Yong Bosch’s very first anime role (and a main role at that). This was like fresh off his time as a Power Ranger! And I gotta give props for giving this guy a chance at voice acting. This role was the launching point to what has been a very successful career for Bosch. As for the sub, let’s just say I’m happy any time I get to hear Hiromi Tsuru in something besides Dragon Ball. Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

JAPANESE CAST: *Vash is played by Masaya Onosaka (known for Bill on Pokemon, Isaac on Baccano, Jadeite on Sailor Moon, Kero on Cardcaptor Sakura, Leeron on Gurren Lagann, France on Hetalia, and Spandam on One Piece)

*Meryl is played by Hiromi Tsuru (known for Bulma on DBZ, Ukyo on Ranma ½, Yubel on YGO GX, and Mika on Gravitation) [R.I.P.]

*Milly is played by Satsuki Yukino (known for Kagome on InuYasha, Mion/Shion on Higurashi, Tae on Gintama, Amakata on Free!, Hiiragi on Natsume Yuujinchou, Mutsumi on Love Hina, and Yoruichi on Bleach)

ENGLISH CAST: *Vash is played by Johnny Yong Bosch (known for Ichigo on Bleach, Lelouch on Code Geass, Makoto on Free!, Izaya on Durarara, Artemis on Sailor Moon redub, Koizumi on Haruhi Suzumiya, and Yukio on Blue Exorcist)

*Meryl is played by Dorothy Elias-Fahn (known for Kaoru on Rurouni Kenshin, Naru on Love Hina, Tomoe on Rozen Maiden, Hakuei on Magi, Houki on Fushigi Yugi, and Amane on Tenchi Muyo GXP)

*Milly is played by Lia Sargent (known for Dorothy on The Big O and Judy on Cowboy Bebop)

FAVORITE CHARACTER: Milly! I don’t need a reason, it’s Milly!

SHIPPING: I didn’t really start thinking about shipping until more than halfway into this series. I thought there might be something between Vash and Meryl, but then again maybe not! Then I saw the backstory of Vash’s “younger days” and falling for the one woman who showed him compassion.

Yes, this is the same woman we consistently see in Vash’s flashbacks, Rem. Ooh boy, it’s one of those stories! So yeah, never mind my thinking with Vash x Meryl ever happening. I feel like Vash will mourn Rem’s death for a long time that I don’t think the whole thing with Meryl will ever work.

And as for Wolfwood x Milly…

FUUUUUUUCK! WHY DID YOU RUIN THIS CUTE COUPLE?!

MILLY WAS HEART-BROKEN!

…At least she got to have one night of passion with Wolfy-boy before the unthinkable happened.

THAT DARN CAT: If you watched this series, you might have noticed a little black cat spotted in nearly every episode. It’s there in the opening theme. It’s there in random places throughout the series. It’s there in the ending theme. What’s up with this cat? Well, there are a lot of theories surrounding this particular cat (or Kuroneko). Some say it’s really Rem inside that cat since you see it in literally every episode around Vash. Others say it’s because the creator of Trigun wanted to just mess with your minds with the kitty walking around in random places and towns. Seriously, it will always appear in every new town Vash and the gang comes across! As an avid cat enthusiast, I’m fine with whatever the result. Just as long as no harm comes to the little Kuroneko.

HALFWAY POINT: Halfway into the series we notice something more when it comes to Mr. Vash the Stampede. First of all, those horrifying scars all over his body! Second, that mysterious girl he often thinks about. I mean, we see flashes of her in the opening sequence. And third, the reason why he never kills. Vash has the ability of causing so much damage when pushed to a breaking point. One of the many reasons why he’s known as the “humanoid typhoon”! And that was perfectly shown when Vash chases the residents out of a town (so there would be no casualties), totally demolished the town during a fight, and made an indent on the moon!

But the story takes a sharp-left turn into WTF territory when we learn about WHAT exactly Vash is. Vash is a plant. Vash also has a brother named Knives. And while Vash has a mentality that all beings have a right to live, Knives has a “kill them all and let God sort them out” point of view. Now the existence of Vash and Knives came with a lot of controversy, especially in the ship that they were on. But that girl who Vash cares for, Rem cared for them regardless of what they were. Rem had high hopes for a peaceful world with coexistence. Too bad Knives had other motives and killed her.

ENDING TO TV SERIES: Vash has tried so hard to keep Milly, Meryl, and Wolfwood out of harm’s way. He knows there are some pretty bad people after him, including his polar-opposite brother, Knives. Vash hates death and wants to save as many people as humanly possible. He doesn’t want to see any more needless death. Probably from his flashbacks and losing Rem! Unfortunately, this doesn’t go so well.

I can see how iconic this death was now after witnessing it. Wolfwood, the priest who would hook up with Vash every now and then when they’re up against some ruffians, now finds himself in a crucial decision. He gets orders that he must eliminate Vash. And Wolfwood ends up dying instead in a very dramatic death scene. God-damn! And just that scene where Milly is sobbing freakin’ eats you up inside.

At least she had one night of passion before the unfortunate happened!

Vash hates the thought of having to kill anyone. But he might not have a choice if Knives is coming after him and even hires a powerful foe from a previous episode and the guy that killed Wolfwood to take you out. Once Vash met up with Knives, he winds up having some pretty sick flashbacks of Knives. But our homeboy was able to take out Knives, the desert area gets water, and…

I’m gonna have to read the fucking manga for more, right?

Tap dancing fuck!

BADLANDS RUMBLE: 12 years after the series ended, Japan decides to release a side-story in the form of a movie, bringing back our favorite characters like Vash, Wolfwood, Milly, and Meryl. And yes, reuniting the cast…in Japan.

By 2010, Geneon was as good as dead and FUNimation licensed Trigun. In short, they managed to get Johnny Young Bosch to reprise his role as Vash the Stampede. But everyone else was replaced. And surprisingly, the people they got to do Wolfwood and Milly were pretty freakin’ close to their original voices. Meryl’s voice, come on I know Luci Christian any-damn-where! Vash helps a young lady take out a big-bad guy (who turns out to be his father). And it has the feel of the original series where it’s set in a western town with lots of booze and shoot-em-ups! It’s an interesting side-story to the Trigun trilogy.

Trigun was a pretty good anime. I mean, not one of my favorites, but I can definitely see a lot of people sticking by this classic. Maybe you can chalk up my blah attitude to the fact that I’m not fond of westerns and I kinda took it out on Trigun. Or the fact that there was so much more that the anime could have covered before the end and the ending kinda felt off to me! Like I thought I was expecting more. But I suppose that’s what mangas are for. To be honest, the stories that really grabbed my attention were the back-stories with Vash and Knives and Wolfwood’s final episode.

*sniffles* At least Milly got one night of passion before he died!

If you would like to check out Trigun, all the episodes are available through FUNimation and Hulu (in both Japanese and English). And if you really like the anime, why not purchase the hard copies? Both the series and movie are available for home video.

Okay, that took me a while, but I’m glad to finish Trigun. What’s next on the FUNimation list?

EEHHHHHEEEHHHE

Fuck is that supposed to mean? What is that? Is that even in English?

YOU WILL BE HORRIBLY MUTILATED: The Isekai

Do you mean Re:Zero? That’s great…but that review’s not ready yet. And it probably won’t be until after April 2021! So let’s cast caution to the wind and pick another FUNimation licensed anime.

You’re watching Sarazanmai next. It’s best if you don’t ask questions.

Sarazanmai? The fuck does that even mean?!

OH. MY. GOD.

#trigun #vash the stampede #meryl stryfe #milly thompson #nicholas d wolfwood #knives millions #anime review

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imagining-supernatural · 4 years

Text

The Work Call

Part 18 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: You call your boss to get some work to do in your free time and do a little flirting ;)

Word Count: 2,258

With Sebastian off in Georgia for a week, you felt like a teenager whose parents just left her home for alone for the first time. Suddenly, you could break all of the rules. Not that your rule-breaking was something that would get you in too much trouble…

Since the press seemed to have gotten it through their heads that you were off limits, you finally had your privacy and space back again. As a result, you were taking advantage of the last few weeks of autumn before the snow came. After your hospital appointments, you walked down the street to a cute little café and sat in one of the over-sized, plush chairs for a bit. You’d either bring a book or your laptop.

On Wednesday, the café cat apparently decided you were okay and hopped up into your lap, purring loudly as you read. You’d snapped a quick selfie and sent it off to Sebastian.

Me: [image attached] Don’t be surprised if you come home this weekend and I’ve catnapped ol’ Misty here

Sebastian: What if I’m allergic to cats?

Me: Sucks to be you, I guess

Me: The apartment’s lonely without you

You stared at the last text you’d sent, suddenly overthinking it. Sure, you were married. And, sure, you were wearing his ring now. But you two hadn’t really discussed what that meant, exactly. So was that last text too strong? Too forward?

Hell, you didn’t even know what you’d meant by it.

Sebastian: Don’t know how I feel about being able to be replaced by a cat

Sebastian: Maybe I need to up my game

Up his game?

Shit, it had been so long since you’d flirted with anyone. So long since you’d even considered a relationship. After your hellish life growing up, you’d put all of your focus into school. You were determined to set yourself up for a better life than the one you were born into. Then you graduated and worked hard to secure your place at your job. School only taught you so much, and you needed to be able to apply what you learned to real life.

Once you felt secure in your professional life and you were finally ready to start exploring a relationship, you found out you had cancer.

So to say you were woefully underprepared for this situation would be the understatement of the year.

Me: Luckily for you, I like Jenny’s coffee so much that I don’t want her to hate me for stealing her cat

Sebastian: You still thought a cat would replace me

Sebastian: That hurts, sweetheart

Sweetheart. In writing.

Me: I’ll find some way to make you feel better this weekend

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Why did you never read over your texts before you sent them?

At least you hadn’t put a winky face emoji. Now that would have been a disaster.

Not that you didn’t want your relationship with Sebastian to keep going. You did. But there was a lot more pressure riding on this than there was back in high school when you went to the prom with Brad Trayton, or in college when you slept with the guy from your Chemistry 101 lab three times before having to break it off with him because he always smelled like bacon.

This was Sebastian Fucking Stan. And you were married to the guy. And you were in a literal life or death situation. If things went badly with him, that would make the rest of your cancer treatment very awkward, to say the least.

Sebastian: I’m sure you will…

Sebastian: I gotta go to a script reading rn. Skype tonight?

Me: Of course

You’d been Skyping with Seb at least twice a day since he left on Sunday night. It was almost like he never left, in that regard.

But with him gone, you found that you had a lot of free time on your hands. With your body starting to get used to the cancer treatment, you also had a bit more energy and nowhere to put that energy to good use.

So you called your old boss back home, dialing his direct extension to avoid getting his assistant. The press might have backed off, but thanks to the updates from Jasmin, people who knew you were still reeling over your marriage.

“Plathway.”

“Hey, Brendon, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, and you could just imagine him leaning back in his chair. Brendon Plathway was your mentor and had grown into a close friend. Of everyone in your life, you would say he was the closest thing to a good father figure you had. “How are you doing? I’ve seen your name on Facebook a few times.”

“I’m doing pretty good, all things considered. I’m in a clinical study in New York and the doctors are optimistic that it’ll work. They’re hoping I’ll get the tumor out sometime in February.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Brendon said. “And that husband of yours… he treating you well?”

“It’s not… it’s not quite like that. But yeah. He’s great.” It was a pretty decent segue into the reason for your call. “He’s actually out of town, shooting for a TV show. So I have a bit of time on my hands and was hoping—”

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

The unfamiliar voice interrupted you before you could finish. You looked up to see a guy about your age with a newsboy bag, notebook, and tape recorder.

A fucking journalist.

“I thought it was you. You mind if I ask you a few questions?” He didn’t say it like a question, nor did he give you time to respond before he sat on a stool beside you and set up shop on the small table. “If I could write an article on you, it would just—”

“I’m actually on a phone call right now.”

“Oh, I won’t take too long. I just can’t pass up this opportunity. You’re quite the enigma. No one’s gotten your side of the story.”

“And neither will you. I’m not going to answer any questions.”

He completely ignored you, flicked on the recorder, and put his pen to paper. “People have been saying that you planned your rendezvous with Sebastian Stan in Vegas. What do you say to that?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have no comment for you.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the chance to get your story out there. There are some nasty rumors spreading—”

You cut him off before he could continue. “I know my story and the people I care about know my story. I will not be answering any questions for you today.”

“Do you feel no guilt for being the reason Sebastian Stan’s reputation has taken a massive hit?”

“I’m going to give you one more chance to leave me the fuck alone before I call the cops.” He opened his mouth, but you spoke over him, voice lowering to a red-hot hiss. “And if you write a single word of this conversation or make any sort of insinuations that I said anything at all, I will slap you and whatever blog or magazine you work for with a libel lawsuit. Don’t even think about trying to manipulate your recording because you’re not the only one who has been recording this conversation. The phone call you interrupted was with my boss and it’s company policy to record all incoming and outgoing phone calls. He’s a witness that I repeatedly rejected your attempt to start an interview and anything else you say can be construed as harassment. Have I made myself clear?”

He stared at you, wide eyed. Guess he hadn’t expected a cancer patient to be so blunt. Nevertheless, he gathered his things and stood. Just before walking away, he muttered, “You didn’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

Once he was gone, you groaned. “Sorry about that, Bren.”

“Is that something you have to deal with often? That’s horrible.”

“No. Not since I got sick because stupid reporters were sticking their germy microphones in my face and Seb threatened them with lawyers.”

Brendon hmphed. “Well, you sounded like you had that speech prepared. Sounded like you’d said it a few times.”

“Before he left, Seb made sure I knew how to threaten any reporters like that. Luckily this was the first time I’ve had to remember what he told me.” The reporter had shaken you, and it took a few deep breaths before you felt calm enough to continue with your conversation. “Anyway, back to my original reason for calling… Are there are projects I could jump on long distance? I’ll probably only be able to put in about ten to fifteen good hours of work a week, but it’d be nice to have something to do other than wait for new episodes of my shows to come on Hulu.”

“Let me poke around the office a bit. I know there’s a big one coming up next week. Rachel’s heading that one. You’ve worked with her before right? She’d probably appreciate your input. Trent is in the middle of one for a pharmaceutical company, but he’s not feeling too sure about it. I’ll see if he wants you to try and hack the system and find holes.”

“Anything. I’ve worked with both of them before and I think we work well together. I did quite a few initial proposals before I left for Vegas and I enjoyed those more than most people do.”

He promised he’d send any projects your way that he could. After a few more minutes of catching up, you ended the call and headed outside to wait for Sean in the chilly fall air.

“How was the reading?” you asked later that night. “Any juicy plot lines?”

“Not that I can tell you,” Seb replied. The phone in his hand shifted as he settled further into the hotel bed that Marvel was putting him up in. “But it was good. We’ll start shooting tomorrow.”

“Excited to lube up your arm?”

He laughed, head falling back against the headboard. “I take it you finally did some research on me?”

“A little. The hospital was running behind today, so I was there a bit longer than I planned and I fell down the YouTube abyss of interviews. Anthony seems like a fun guy to work with.”

Sebastian grinned. “He is. Speaking of work, did you call your boss?”

“Yeah.” The reminder of the phone call – or rather of the interruption – made your roll your eyes.

“Didn’t go well?”

“No, no. It did.” You knew your news was not going to go over well with Seb, so you took a minute to get settled into the bed. It had been a long day and laying down felt good. You turned your laptop on its side so your face would still be the right way on Seb’s phone. “Brendon’s gonna check around work and find some projects and work to throw my way. That’s all good.”

“Then what is it?”

With a deep sigh, you began. “While I was on the phone with him, some hipster reporter dude interrupted.”

“Son of a—”

“It took a minute to get it through his thick skull that I was not going to give him a story but he finally left. It just kinda took a bit out of me.”

“God, Y/N. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it’s not,” you agreed softly. “But you prepared me. I handled it. Then Sean made me eat dinner with him and his wife. She’s an amazing cook. Sometime when you’re home, they want to have both of us over. And when this is all over, we definitely need to think of a hell of a way to thank him for everything. He’s done so much more than a driver gets paid to.”

The two of you brainstormed for a bit about how to repay Sean for his kindness and friendship. Then your conversation moved on to different subjects, bouncing around for a bit until you yawned for the third time in five minutes.

“You seem more tired than usual. You doing okay?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I haven’t been sleeping well, but that’s your fault.”

“My fault?” he asked.

“Yeah. You made me sleep next to you for two weeks then you just up and leave me alone. It’s rude, Mr. Stan.”

Something in your words sparked something in his eyes that filled you with… excitement?

“Well, Mrs. Stan…” His words were accompanied by a wink that stopped your heart. Forget your brain tumor. Sebastian was going to be the source of your death. “You only have two more nights before I’m home for the weekend.”

Flirting? Were you flirting?

“Two nights with you and five nights without you is just not a fraction I like.”

My god, you were flirting.

“If you can convince Marvel to move their studios to New York, I’m all game. Until then, we’ll have to make the best of those two nights.”

“Make the best of them, hmm?”

“Yeah,” he said in a low voice. “Mackie’s commentary on The Voice isn’t as good as yours. I’ve been waiting to watch the new episodes until I’m with you.”

The unexpected twist made you laugh out loud. It didn’t escape your attention how his eyes crinkled at the sound, affection flooding his expression. “The Voice on Friday and Dancing With The Stars on Saturday?”

“I’ll pen it in my calendar, sweetheart.”

“Ooo. I’m pen-worthy. That’s so much better than pencil-worthy.”

“You’re white-out-worthy, baby. I’d white-out plans I have with someone else to pen in plans with you.”

Fucking hell. Baby was a new one.

If he’d put on half this much charm on you in Vegas when you were drunk, it was no wonder you’d married him.

“Then I guess I need to go erase the pencil plans I had for Saturday evening and make room for you. Maybe even buy a special pen just for you.”

“Maybe wait for tomorrow? You’ve had a long day. Seems like you need a good night’s rest.”

“You too, hun.” The pet name felt foreign on your tongue, but it somehow felt… right? “Shooting starts tomorrow. You need to be ready to keep up with Mackie’s energy.”

“He wants to meet’cha, you know. Apparently I haven’t shut up about you.’

“Gimme a few more weeks to get used to this treatment and maybe I can spend more than three seconds around him without needing a nap,” you joked. “Unless he only has that energy when there’s a camera on him…?”

Seb laughed. “That is him all the damn time.”

“Then I better let you go for the night. You’ve spent the last few weeks shlumping around with me. Gotta get your rest to keep up with him tomorrow.”

“And you gotta get your rest so you can hand out candy tomorrow.”

“I’m excited for that, actually. Trick or Treating really slowed down back in Utah lately. I think last year I got, like, maybe three groups of kids?”

“You’ll get your fill this year. A lot of the kids in the apartment complex go to every door. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting sick.”

It took twenty more minutes before you were finally able to say your goodbyes and hang up. You stared at your phone for a moment before placing it on the side table beside Sebastian’s bed and turning off the light.

Houston, we've got some flirting!!! Also can we just take a minute to appreciate how amazing Sean is? But things seem to be looking up!

CHAPTER 19: THE LONG DAY

#sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfic #fluff

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theimpossibleg1rl · 4 years

Text

Faking It | Mini Series | One.

Actor!Bucky Barnes x OFC Alex Pierce

Warnings: language, angst, smut in later chapters

James 'Bucky' Barnes is one of the most famous, sought after young actors in the world. Alex Pierce is the up and comer with a few credits under her belt. What happens when their PR people suggest a "fake" relationship to boost their images?

tags: @dreams-in-blxck @badassbaker | tags open

“Absolutely not.” Alex huffed, holding the phone away from her ear. She wasn’t that desperate. And he was the last person on earth that she wanted anything to do with. He had quite the reputation. It was no well-kept secret that James Barnes was what the tabloids referred to as a “womanizer.”

That was something she had no interest in getting involved with.

“Lex,” Jane, her agent, sighed into the phone, “you have two big projects coming up and he just landed a role in a big franchise. You both need this. And his reps are determined to clean up his image. You’d be good for that.” James certainly made no secrets of his “extra curricular activities.”

She ran a hand through her long blonde hair before pulling it into a braid. “He’s...ugh, Jane! Why him? Can’t you get someone else if you’re really determined to do this to me? There’s gotta be some other single guys.”

“His people have asked for you specifically, Alexandra. They want you.”

She sighed heavily into the phone. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

****

James Barnes reportedly dating newcomer Alex Pierce. The pair were spotted at dinner in Soho. A source close to the pair say they looked very cozy and comfortable with each other.

“They definitely looked like a couple,” the source commented. “Holding hands, very interested in the conversation.”

“Jesus,” Alex groaned, “I literally haven’t even met him yet,” she lamented to Maria. “I barely agreed and it’s starting.” She stared at the phone, almost unable to believe how fast it moved. “How in the hell was I ‘supposedly seen with him in Soho?’ This is insane.”

“The machine works fast,” Maria hummed, scrolling through her own phone. “On the plus side, he’s fucking gorgeous, Alex. Did you see that scene in The End? Holy fuck. His ass is outta this world.”

Alex had seen it. And as much as Maria was right, that didn’t excuse his off-set behavior. How was his PR planning to make him look like he’d done a complete one eighty? Faking a relationship didn’t necessarily seem like the best course of action here.

****

“She’s gorgeous,” Steve marveled, eyes locked onto his phone screen. Bucky was lounging on the sofa, legs up on the coffee table. His eyes were closed and he merely hummed in response. “You seen her movies yet? They want you to.”

Bucky shrugged. It didn’t matter. Six months to a year. He could fake his way through nearly anything. He did it every time he promised some chick he’d call her as he sent them on their way. He never called them. Why should he? They only wanted one thing.

“You paying any attention to anything I’ve said, Buck?”

“It’s all bullshit anyway, Stevie. They wanna make me a ‘bad boy gone good’. They’re tired of my fucking around. Doesn’t look good for the studio,” he muttered in a mocking tone. He rolled his eyes. He was perfectly happy doing what he was doing. He was a young man, plenty of pussy. Who needed a commitment?

“Well, it’s already all over the gossip blogs. Everyone’s talkin’ about it,” Steve hummed, skimming the comments. “People think you make a hot couple. They aren’t wrong.”

Bucky honestly didn’t give a shit. It was just another acting gig to him.

****

“Barnes,” Tony, his agent growled, ripping the phone from his hands, earning a deathly look. “Pay attention. Look alive. She’s here.”

The door opened and Jane escorted Alex inside the office. Bucky looked up, pushing his sunglasses up to the top of his head. Holy fuck. Steve wasn’t wrong. This might actually be better than he’d hoped. She was gorgeous. A goddess with long flowing blonde hair and a killer body.

Bucky wanted to get his mouth on her.

“James, this is Alex,” Jane introduced and Alex held out a hand. If he was beautiful on screen, it didn’t come close to real life. His blue eyes were piercing. His chestnut brown hair looked soft to the touch. His plump lips were perfect. He made her weak in the knees.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Nice to finally meet you, Doll,” he coped, his voice like honey. Alex melted a bit at his tone. Get your shit together, she reminded herself. It’s a job. Just a job. It’s not real, Alex. He doesn’t give a damn. If anything, worse comes to worse, you’re just another notch in his belt,

“You too,” she replied, keeping her cool, flashing him a blinding smile.

And action.

****

“The paps will be waiting outside the restaurant,” Jane told them both. “Step outside, hold hands, ignore them. Pretend they’re not there.”

Bucky nodded, looking at Alex for a long moment. He wondered what was going on inside her head. She seemed relaxed, that was a good thing. They could do this. Their jobs were to pretend. That’s all this was. In six months, she’d be out of his life. Simple.

****

“You’re all over the internet!,” Wanda squealed, shoving her phone in Alex’s face. “Yeah, yeah. I know what we look like, Wan,” she sighed. She’d seen them. They’d blown up within minutes. And this was only the beginning of this mess.

“You look good,” Maria agreed from her spot on the sofa.

“It’s all pretend, ladies,” Alex reminded them. She tried not to think about Bucky. How perfectly his hand fit in hers. How good he smelled. How he smiled at her like she was everything. He was a damn good actor, there was no doubt about that.

James Barnes and Alex Pierce take a stroll in NYC. Looks like the “bad boy” may have settled down. Sources close to the pair say that he’s telling friends that she’s the one.

*they’re cute!*

*aww! They look happy!*

*super hot together!*

Alex groaned. The one? Really? Who came up with this shit? They’d known each other for a week, not spending more than a few hours together. She didn’t know a damn thing about his private life. She figured she could Google it, but that seemed weird. It was just performance art, right? Nothing more.

****

Bucky scrolled through the comment sections, smiling a bit. “So she’s the one, huh?,” Clint teased, tossing a beer at him. Bucky caught it and laughed. “It’s all bullshit, Barton. Some asshole is actually paid to write this shit. It’s a fuckin’ joke.”

“She’s hot as fuck though,” he grinned, plopping down beside him, popping open his beer. “If you’re lucky, you’ll get something outta it, ya know?,” he added with a smirk and a shrug of his shoulders.

Bucky nodded, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah maybe? I don’t know. I don’t even know her.”

“Never stopped you before,” Sam piped up and Bucky threw his bottle cap at his head. “I’m supposed to be transformed, Wilson,” he said sarcastically, “she’s the one who’s gonna change me, didn’t you know?”

Sam and Clint laughed. It seemed extremely unlikely that any woman would have the ability.

Of course, Winnie Barnes had always pressed him to try and settle down. Find a nice girl. Get married. Have a couple of kids. Be a good man. But Bucky had other plans for his life the minute he got his first big paycheck and the first time some girl recognized him from the shitty TV show he was on.

Settling down was something he’d lost any kind of interest in a long time ago.

No one was gonna change that.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes mini series #bucky barnes smut #marvel au #bucky x ofc #marve series

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oddeyevibes · 3 years

Text

TLND Ch1: The Theatrics of it All

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Vice City or any of it’s characters, I only own my OCs. Also, many of the images and gifs used are not 100% representative of the story, there are chosen to help create ✨~ambiance~✨.

Summary: Tommy has come to Vice City to kill people for money. For him, it’s business and a duty as a member of the Forelli crime family. Dallas has come to Vice City to kill people for money. For her, it’s business and an art form and a lifestyle that has been apart of her family for a long time. A lot might not see it, but they were made for each other.

Trigger Warning: Blood, graphic depictions of violence

Prickle Pine, Las Venturas

1986

Most people in Prickle Pine always associated with people their neighbors have never seen. This is usually where the rich elites always found hanging out in the Strip lived anyway. So some old couple with nothing better to do but to people-watch probably wouldn’t be calling the authorities any time soon on seeing strange people come out of different houses every day of the week because it was too natural at this point.

So when a midnight blue Sentinel XS pulled up to the Michaels house. No people-watchers thought it was too suspect to see them get a wealthy-looking visitor. The front door opened revealing a man in a faded red and white striped bathrobe known as Bane Michaels. A middle-aged white man who made an infamous name for himself by helping produce some of those pornographic, action-oriented movies the porn industry has ever seen.

He was regular on The Strip and many of his more prudish neighbors came to know him for always having younger women visit while his much more older wife, went off to the hospital for treatment. People watchers merely thought it was another one of those visits.

Bane stood in the doorway a jittery mess as the driver of the Sentinel stepped out of the vehicle. By the look of her outfit, you’d be forgiven for thinking this was a woman whose husband died in “mysterious” circumstances. She was wearing a black pencil dress with a pair of black peep-toe wedges along with some thick-rimmed black sunglasses and a black shoulder purse to make the outfit look a little more perfect. For Bane, she was like an angel of death walking towards his door. This was the woman that would help solve his problems.

“Well...don’t you look excited to see me.” She commented.

Bane moved aside and let her into the house, immediately locking the door and showing her to the spacious living room which looked like it never left the 60s. It didn’t help that there was a TV playing an old sitcom of that era.

The woman sat down on one of the single-seated couches across from Bane who relaxed as he sat down, waiting for the good news. “Well?”

“I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you are now a widow, Mr. Michaels.”

Bane’s smile grew wide. “Hahaha! Thank you! Thank you SO much!” The man quickly stood up, grabbing the woman’s hand and shaking it frantically, much to the woman’s clear disdain. She yanked her hand out of his grasp. The man took the hint and sat back down. “Y’know, I heard about you from Carlos. I was so sure he was going to do the job until he recommended you.”

The woman shrugged. “Carlos got wrapped up in a more steady gig.”

Bane took the hint and nodded. “Once the life insurance comes through, I promise you, you’ll get your money. Never done something like this before so I’m not quite sure how long it’ll take.”

“Well, I have. Just make sure you don’t say or do anything stupid and suspicious. Remember, when the hospital calls, you don’t know she’s dead.” The way the woman spoke held an air of both sultriness and coldness. Bane was definitely talking to someone who has experience. “Unless they called already and you messed it up.”

Bane shook his head. “Nope, no call yet. Why don’t we…” Bane scooted forward a bit and flashed the woman a smirk. “Maybe we can wait together?” He asked.

The woman tilted her head to the side. “Are you trying to flirt with me?” She asked with a blunt tone of voice. There was no hint of reciprocation in her words.

Bane shrugged. “Well,” He casually leaned back against the seat. “I am a single man after all.”

“You’re wife’s body not even if a coffin yet.”

“That old broad’s been dead for years. Shame though...she was a real cougar, that one. It was fun running around with an older woman. Especially, when they’re loaded. The probably is, what we men want from an older woman gets lost REAL fast when age starts catching up with them.” He continued going on. “Tits start sagging, they need every pill in the fucking book to keep functioning, hair starts going gray, y’know?” He asked with a chuckle, but the woman didn’t respond. Once he realized she wasn’t going to laugh, he sighed and kept going. “Only reason I stayed with her was because of the money. Porn is nice and all but I wanted to do more. I wanna be big but in this city, you gotta pay big to win big, y’know? Edie, love her to death, but she wasn’t going to understand what I needed. I couldn’t let her divorce me either, she’d take her money and run, leaving me with nothing.”

“So you plan to find some young girl?”

He nodded. “Unless you’re willing to fill the position?”

“No.”

Bane chuckled. “Worth a shot.” The brown-haired man stood up and went over to a brown foyer table holding a variety of liquor bottles as well as a couple of whiskey glasses. He proceeded to pour himself a glass as the nearby landline phone began ringing. A smirk on his face, Bane waltz over to answer, prepared to pretend to be heartbroken.

“Michaels Residence, Bane speaking.”

“.....Michaels Residence?” The evil smirk on Bane’s face slowly disappeared. The man glanced back to the woman sitting on his couch. She was currently paying him no mind as she watched the silent erratic movements of the sitcom still playing. He turned his back towards her and continued the conversation. “Edie?” He asked in a terrified whisper.

“I’m not even in the dirt yet and you’ve already claimed my house?” The older woman said and the smile could be heard in her voice. Bane didn’t say anything in response. “What? No funny remark? You used to be made of them, Baney.”

“You’re alive?” He whispered, not wanting to alert the woman behind him since he planned on giving her a piece of his mind.

“Of course I am. You tried to pay for the Montoya’s to kill me using life insurance? I got something more reliable...an owed favor.” There was so much vile as she said the last part of her sentence.

PHT!

If the walls had eyes, they would be covered in the blood that quickly shot out of Bane’s forehead. With the little thinking energy he had left, the man’s eyes had shot up to try and catch a glimpse of the hole in his head. In a second, his body fell forward, colliding with the wall and crashing down on the table, knocking over the different bottles and sending them to the floor with a series of loud crashes as the phone in his hand was let go and fell in one of the puddles that began soaking the ugly colored carpet.

Turning his back to the woman proved to be a fatal mistake. His last mistake. Once he did, she had quietly made her way over to him, calmly pulling out a suppressed .22 pistol and waited for her moment to pull the trigger.

The woman flashed a satisfied smirk as she put away her gun before bending down to pick up the phone. “Ms. Rubio?”

“I wish I could’ve been there to see the look on his face.” The older woman sounded more than happy with the outcome.

“Well, he was very scared if that makes you feel better.”

“I suppose that’ll do.”

“You never told my cousin what you wanted in terms of body disposal.”

“I have some guys of my own. I want to see what’s left of the fucker. If it wasn’t for MY money, that ingrate wouldn’t have what we had now. To think that son of a bitch was plotting to kill me.”

“Small world though.”

“Indeed. When are you and your cousin leaving Las Venturas?”

“Should be by the end of this week.”

“Should have your money by then.”

“No need. This is a favor, remember?”

“I always tip.” The line went dead.

The woman shrugged and hung up the phone. She took a long look at the corpse before letting out a single chuckle and leaving the residence, locking the bottom lock behind her. As far as the neighbors knew, the woman in black that left Eden Rubio’s house was another young fling of Bane’s.

Several days later

Portland, Liberty City

Marco’s Bistro

“Tommy Vercetti? Shit...didn’t think they ever let him out.”

Sonny Forelli had a loud voice. Everyone in the Forelli family knew that. Hell, everyone in the families knew that. It wasn’t a voice that commanded respect but one that wanted fear. The Don of the Forelli family reveled in the fact that others feared him and if he felt someone didn’t fear him, he would take care of them. The idea of catching more bees with honey was a concept lost this Forelli man. He was a man-sized brat but no one in the Forelli Family would call him out on it.

The Don was currently sitting in his brother’s bistro alongside two associates, Casio Graci and Vincent Moreno, who had informed the man that Tommy Vercetti was officially let out of prison. The man that was now known as the ‘Harwood Butcher’ was sentenced away fifteen years ago on 11 counts of manslaughter. The thing is: he was only supposed to kill one guy.

No one besides Sonny knows the specifics of what happened and how a simple hit by a Forelli mobster turned into a bloodbath. It worked out though for the Forelli family’s reputation among the families. If someone like Tommy Vercetti was working for the Forellis, the other families kept their ears perked for any more Forelli men. Sonny didn’t like to admit it, but Tommy helped him...again.

Only a few men in the family knew this, but Sonny despised Tommy’s very existence. No one was dumb enough to comment on it though, out of fear of Sonny’s wrath. No one knew the specifics of it but it was clearly some sort of paranoia. The thought that everyone would look at Tommy the way they SHOULD’VE been looking at Sonny. There were some outside of Sonny’s close circle that had ideas but they were thrown out of the window upon hearing Sonny and the Forellis kept Vercetti from getting the death penalty.

“He kept his head down,” Casio explained. “It helps people forget.”

Sonny chuckled. “People will remember soon enough. When they see him walking down the streets of their neighborhood, it’ll be bad for business.”

The two associates glanced between each other with worried expressions. Cutting Tommy loose was probably not the best idea cause then one of the other families might take him in. Can’t have a hitman like Tommy working the Sindacos, the Sicilians, or the Leones. Definitely not the Leones.

Casio looked at Sonny. “Well, what are we gonna do Sonny?”

The Don sat back in chair thinking for a moment. Truth be told, Sonny didn’t want Tommy anywhere near him. He didn’t want him asking too many questions upon returning. Fifteen years? Vercetti was definitely simmering with curiosity. “Alright,” He leaned in towards the table, his face illuminating a bit more under the green light. His gesture causing the others to do the same. “We treat’em like an old friend and keep him busy out of town, ok?”

The two looked confused.

Sonny leaned back in his seat once more. “We been talking about expanding down south, right? Vice City is 24-Carat gold these days. The Columbians, the Mexicans, hell, even those Cuban refugees are cutting themselves a piece of some nice action.”

Vincent shook his head. “But it’s all drugs, Sonny. None of the families will touch that shit.”

The only reason Vice City had become a gold mind was because of drugs. Not just any drugs but the classic white girl, Cocaine. Most of the Italian mob stationed in Liberty City didn’t go anywhere near drugs. The most they dealt with being weed. Florida, Vice City, in particular, was a place where cocaine was becoming the wave. As of now, it was unknown territory to the families.

“Times are changing. The families can’t keep their backs turned while our enemies reap the rewards. So, we send someone down to do the dirty work for us and cut ourselves a nice quiet slice, ok?” He explained. Sonny looked over to Casio, “who’s our contact down there?”

“Ken Rosenberg,” Casio replied with an eye roll. “Schmuck of a lawyer. How’s he gonna hold Vercetti’s leash?”

“We don’t need him to. We just set him loose in Vice City, we give him a little cash to get started. Ok? Give it a few months,” Sonny relaxed in his chair. “Then we go down, pay him a little visit, okay? See how he's doing.”

Escobar International

Vice City

Tommy’s been down south maybe like...once. It was only a business trip and he’d stood in as one of Sonny’s bodyguards. The was fifteen years ago back in 1970 and he knew the city had probably changed a lot since then. The man wasn’t someone into the latest trends but still, the thought of missing out on a whole decade did something to him mentally. After all, he was barely an adult when he got locked up but hand the bodies of professionals that’s been in the game long before his birth.

Tommy thought about a lot while on the inside. He was grateful for the Forellis for keeping him off death row, he really was, but he was also suspicious of the events in Harwood. Unfortunately, Tommy would have to keep his questions to himself since the first thing that happened upon being released from prison was him being sent to Vice City.

Now instead of killing men left and right which, granted, he may have to do anyway, Tommy was meant to simply help the Forellis make some deals down south. Setting themselves up amidst all the other gangs that have claimed territory in the city.

He didn’t really know what his face looked like but it apparently caught Lee’s attention. “Don’t be so nervous Vercetti,” Lee advised, catching the man’s attention from watching the plane land through its window. “Harry and I have done deals like this before. Simple procedure, go in and out, hasn’t changed since you’ve been locked up.”

Tommy felt annoyed. “I know how these things work.” He shot back with a mild attitude.

Lee didn’t say anything or indicated that he was offended at the response, merely shrugged and went back to reading the magazine. “ Big Shot Porn Producer Reported Dead...robbery gone wrong? ” The man muttered.

Tommy turned his attention back to the window, trying to get back on his previous train of thought.

The air in Vice City was most certainly dry. Tommy almost felt sorry for anyone who didn’t dress down enough. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the bugs here were plenty and HUGE. The worst he dealt with in Liberty City were big ass rats and roaches and flies if a place was filthy enough. Here, the bugs have 34 wings and are always out to cross boundaries. Tommy wished he could’ve stayed inside the airport where the air was cool and the bugs were kept at bay.

But the sight of a white Admiral pulling up provided some quick relief. Though, the appearance of a frantic, curly-haired man in a white suit sort of dimmed in down. He never met Rosenberg but from what Casio and some of the others told him, Rosenberg was easily startled, like a lamb.

The car stopped before the three men and Ken got out, leaning on top of the car’s roof to greet the men. “Hey, hey, guys! It’s, uh, Ken Rosenberg here!” The man shouted. “Hey! Heh, heh, hey, great, hey!”

‘I hate this guy already.’ Tommy thought to himself.

He and the others not replying sent a chill down Ken’s spine, making the neurotic man even more nervous. The Forelli lawyer let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, uh, I’m gonna drive you guys to the meet, ok?” The three nodded and began entering the car, Tommy found himself situated in the back sitting next to Lee once again. Meanwhile, Rosenberg kept explaining the whole deal. “Now, I’ve talked to the suppliers and they’re very keen to start a business relationship, so, uh, if all goes well, we should, uh, be doing very nicely for ourselves, which is, y’know, good.”

With everyone situated in the vehicle, Ken began driving and explained the whole all the way to the docks about the sellers they’ll be purchasing from. Tommy wasn’t too bothered to make any type of comment or even inquire more about, a tiny part hoping Lee or Harry would do that for him, especially Harry, considering that he was the one sitting next to Ken and getting the most of the yammering. To no avail though.

The now 35-year-old let out a silent, annoyed breath as he looked out the window watching his new residence for the new months pass by him in a blur. This would all look nice to gander at if he wasn’t on business. ‘Maybe some other time…’ he thought. For now...just get the deal done was all that was on his mind.

Vice City Docks

Upon the vehicle pulling up to the docks, Tommy was a little on edge. Maybe it was because, in Liberty City, every hour was working hours, he assumed that the docks would be filled with workers paid to mind their own business with maybe one or two ‘ upstanding citizens ’ trying to play the hero.

However, the Vice City docks were damn near-deserted. No sign of anyone clocking in. Maybe the people they were selling to had those types of connections. To make a bunch of construction workers disappear with a snap of their fingers. But, since they weren’t already here, Tommy kind of tossed out that line of thinking.

The sound of a helicopter getting louder caught the attention of the four men in the car. Shaking off the jetlag and gaining their full attention.

“Ok, that’s them in the chopper,” Ken stated. “Ok, here’s the deal,” Harry and Lee began exiting the car while Tommy stayed to hear the rest of the stipulations. “They want a straight exchange on open ground. Alright?”

Tommy nodded, “Right.”, before exiting the car and walking with the other two Forelli men. Meanwhile, one of the dealers, a slightly overweight dark-skinned man wearing a red shirt holding two briefcases, no doubt the product, exited the chopper while his pilot waited and made his way over to meet Tommy and the others.

Once all four had come face to face the deal started. Tommy’s done these before. It was nothing new and nothing had changed. In and out. Get this over with and once all is said and done, focus on finding out what happened back in Hardwood. This is was the only reason Tommy didn’t make a fuss about immediately being put back to work upon being released. He wanted to ease everyone else who worked with him in order to get them talking. A good 20 minutes and he can get to work.

“You got it?” He asked the man in the red shirt.

The man smirked. From the demeanor, Tommy could tell that this man was someone who didn’t take nonsense much like him. “One hundred percent pure grade-A Columbian.” The man replied, placing the two silver cases before the trio.

Tommy gestured his head towards the cases. “Let me see’em.”

The man stopped for a second, looking up at Tommy. “The greens?”

Harry and Lee opened the cases they were holding, showcasing the money. “Tens and twenties,” Tommy replied, “used.”

The man nodded with a smirk, straightening up his posture. “Then I think we got a deal, my friend. Hahaha--”

They only needed a few more minutes to get this deal done but life showed that it had other plans when the sound of multiple gunshots rang out across the docks.

Tommy instinctively ducked as the bodies of both Harry, Lee, and most likely the man in the red shirt. The guy in the copter most likely lifted off and got the hell out of dodge.

That left Tommy to sprint like the wind towards Rosenberg’s car. Taking the phrase ‘leap of faith’ to a literal level when he vaulted through the open window of the backseat. Rosenberg peeled out as Tommy shouted for him to get out there.

Just like fifteen years ago, a ‘simple’ job went terrible in an instant. Between the adrenaline rush of the shootout and the deja vu from back then, the escape from the stocks turned out to be a blurry one for Tommy Vercetti.

The only words that came to his mind were ‘ah shit’ as Rosenberg frantically whimpered in the front seat.

Next Chapter ⏩

#GTA fic #Tommy Vercetti x OC #The Lady Next Door

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dear-kumari · 3 years

Text

Had to take a power nap after finishing PMMM (both the main series and Rebellion). I was halfheartedly trying to work while binge-watching, so there may have been a couple of things (e.g. Shaft-isms) that I missed. Overall, though, I think I followed everything pretty well.

Some initial, spoiler-light thoughts:

Rebellion is a gorgeous film, and I especially love what they did with the gratuitous transformation sequences. The TV series does well for, well, a TV series, but there are definitely moments of jank and just meh aesthetics. Rebellion definitely fit my vision of “Shaft does magical girl anime” more than the show.

That said, watching this much unfiltered Shaft at once was very exhausting. Head tilts and collage are fun and all, but I got real tired of those little continuity-breaking inserts/cuts real quick. You gotta show some restraint, guys.

Wasn’t as dark or as edgy as I thought it’d be, given its reputation. (This is good.)

Most emotional scene for me was the last interaction between Madoka and her mom. I was absolutely stone-faced until that one, and I can’t even explain what it did right besides maybe catch my hormones at a bad time.

I can’t say I got attached to any of the characters, but I also can’t guarantee that I won’t think about Homura or Sayaka a week from now and suddenly love them. idk, I’ll let it simmer.

The TV series is structurally really neat — like, “turn this into class curriculum” neat. Kinda wanted to kick myself about halfway through when I realized that Madoka probably wouldn’t become a magical girl until the end of the show and that it’s all building to her wish.

I don’t have any deep thoughts about the big twist in Rebellion. I was waiting all along to find out why Homura is a seemingly controversial character, so I guess I just took it in stride. As pretty as the film is, though, I can’t say it felt super necessary.

I also don’t have any deep thoughts about the series as a whole, save for my fascination with the show’s idea of framing human history as a metanarrative of female suffering. There are points where it’s goofy af (anime!Cleopatra and the implication that many great historical women were magical girls made me lol), but I actually really bought it on a certain level. Why not view history through the lens of women’s unsung sacrifices and dreams? idk, I know I’m fixating on something that’s tertiary to the main story, but it’s a neat little kernel of something.

All in all, I’m glad I watched it and I don’t feel like it wasted my time. It’s something I’ll be able to unpack more in the future.

#Kumari comments #Puella Magi Madoka Magica #Madoka Magica #Shaft #Puella Magi Madoka Magica: Rebellion #PMMM Rebellion #yes I know it's 6AM

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emily64cooper · 4 years

Text

If I Lose Everything in the Fire (I’m sending all my love to you)

Title: If I Lose Everything in the Fire (I’m sending all my love to you)

Author: emily64cooper

Rating: PG-13 for language

Fandom: The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (tv)

Characters/Pairing: Susie, Lenny/Midge, Mentions: Sophie Lennon, Joel Maisel

Summary: Susie turned around to leave and instantly began berating herself for speaking to a comedic legend like Lenny Bruce like that. Still, she moved very slowly, hoping that he would stop her. She really didn’t want to have to involve Joel in this.

(Or, after getting kicked off the tour, Susie can't go comfort Midge, so she sends the next best person she can think of: Lenny Bruce).

Author’s Note: Takes place immediately post-season 3. Like, immediately.

“You again.”

She'd caught him coming off an act at a club in midtown. The club was ritzy by midtown standards, much nicer than the Gaslight, but still enough beer on the floor to remind you you weren't at the Copa. She'd kill to get Midge into a place like this of her own accord, without having to rely on someone else's reputation. She’d hoped they were heading toward that, but she wasn’t so sure now.

“Hi Lenny. Nice to see you too,” Susie said. She was already mad enough at herself for having to come down here, she didn’t have time to deal with his sarcastic bullshit.

“Aren't you supposed to be in Europe?" he questioned, pulling out and lighting a cigarette.

“I need your help.” Fuck, she hated that. She hated saying those words. She hated that they were true. Fuck.

“I expected nothing less.”

“It’s about Midge.”

"She talk about the pregnant friend again? Disparage the Sophie Lennon?" Lenny asked, feigning disinterest by leaning back against a post.

Midge was always vehement that she and Lenny were just friends, but the fact that he was clearly pretending to be so casual about two of the hardest moments of Midge's comedy career was telling. Just what it was telling her, Susie wasn't really sure, but it reinforced her decision to seek him out for this. "What? No."

Lenny sighed. “Look, you know I like her, but at some point my reputation’s going to take a hit if I keep playing gigs for free, and, uh, between you and me, I don’t think it can stand to get much lower.”

“This isn’t about that,” Susie cried out, exasperated. It was time to pull out the big guns: “She needs you.”

He looked at his feet and took a long drag from his cigarette before meeting her eyes again. “Is she, uh, okay?”

“Yes. I think. But her career's back in the shitter.”

“And you expect me to do what?”

“I’m not asking you to do another gig. She messed up. And she’s alone and sad and she needs a friend. And I can’t do it, so it’s gotta be you or she’ll turn back to that asshole ex-husband of hers and god knows that is the last fuckin’ thing she needs. Miriam is not going to be insignificant and he makes her turn into a fuckin’ nobody.” God, Susie hated that guy. He represented everything wrong with men. He'd had a perfect woman like Midge and he'd thrown her away like fucking garbage.

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” he responded quietly.

Susie let out a breath. “Thank you. Asshole.” Fuck. She'd just called Lenny Bruce an asshole. And had been kind of a jerk to him in general. She was losing her goddamn mind. "I am so sorry, uh, Mr. Bruce, sir."

Lenny smirked at her. “Where is she?” he asked after a moment.

Susie looked at her feet and mumbled a response.

“I’m sorry, I don’t subscribe to the Strasbourg Method, I don’t speak mumble. You’ll have to speak up.”

“I don’t know, okay?” She exclaimed. “Look, she said some shit she shouldn’t have and Shy kicked her off the tour. She was upset, and after she had a good cry, she told me she needed to go figure out if it was still all worth it, whatever the hell that means, and just took off in a cab before I could stop her.”

“Midge got kicked off the tour?”

“Yes! Jesus fuck, Lenny, keep up. Look, I need you to go find her.”

“I’m sorry, isn’t it a manager’s job to manage her client?”

“Fine, if I’d’ve known you were gonna be a fucking prick about it, I wouldn’t have come. I’ll just go fuck off and find her fucking dick of an ex-husband to help Midge. Thanks for nothing, asshole.”

She turned around to leave and instantly began berating herself for speaking to a comic legend like Lenny Bruce like that. Still, she moved very slowly, hoping that he would stop her. She really didn’t want to have to involve Joel in this.

“Wait,” Lenny said finally.

“Oh thank God,” she mumbled, turning around.

He looked past her for a moment, then chuckled quietly to himself. “I know where she is.”

“Great... so are you gonna go or?“

“I’ll get her.”

Susie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” They stood looking at each other awkwardly for a few moments. “So I’ll just-“ Susie said, motioning toward the exit.

“Yeah,” Lenny said with a curt nod.

She took two steps out the door then heard him call her back.

“Hey,” he said. He sounded... not like Lenny Bruce. He sounded melancholic. He sounded sad. “Why me?”

“What?”

“There are other people in her life you could have come to, more important people, her parents for example, her former ex-husband. I bet even the doctor would leave a man’s chest open on his operating table just to chase after her. But me, I’m just a background character in her story. I’m not a leading man here. Why did you come to me?” He asked.

Susie would have laughed at the absurdity of Lenny Bruce standing so uncertain before her had his entire being not been shining with sincerity as he asked. This was a side to him she didn’t expect. This was a Lenny Bruce with demons, with self-doubt and self-loathing. Was this sincerity something that Midge was privy to? Because Susie definitely didn’t know how to handle it.

She could only put out so many metaphorical fires in one night.

"Oh, uh," she hesitated. Honestly, she wasn't sure why she'd come to him. She hadn’t even thought to ask anyone else – except Joel, but ew. Not if she could help it. But now that they were out of jobs, Susie needed to find a way to make Midge’s money back fast, so she couldn’t try to track her down. And if she couldn't go after Midge when she was down, Lenny Bruce was the next best choice. "Well, uh, you seem like you care about her, or whatever. And she uh, she told me a little bit about that night in Florida."

Lenny's interest piqued at the mention of Florida. "Oh," he said quietly. "She did, huh?” He cleared his throat and looked anywhere but at her. “She, uh, tell you how it ended?"

"She did not," Susie responded slowly. She knew Midge had left some things out when she'd told her about the date she insisted was not a date, she'd acted as nervous as a whore in church about the whole thing. And now Lenny Bruce stood before her, melancholic. And shy, almost? Something more had definitely happened between them.

"Look, far be it from me to give advice about love or relationships, I don't know the first thing about that shit. The longest relationship I ever had was with a plunger. God, I loved Pamela, may she rest in peace." She took a moment of silence for her beloved plunger, who Jackie had killed one afternoon at the Gaslight. They'd held a funeral. It had been beautiful, yet tragic. She breathed deeply and shucked it off, then turned back to Lenny. Right, she reminded herself, Lenny Bruce needed emotional support. What a weird fucking day.

"I don't know if you slept together, or didn't sleep together or whatever the fuck happened between you. I don’t need to know. But you obviously like her. And Midge can be a moron when it comes to men - have you met Joel? - but you mean something to her. Something special. Just give her time."

Lenny smirked at her around his cigarette, then tossed it and put it out with the toe of his shoe. She watched as he grabbed his jacket, then moved to follow her out the door. "Uh, thanks, for that," he said finally, grimacing slightly and scratching the back of his neck.

"You're, uh, welcome," Susie responded. They looked at each other awkwardly for the second time that night. "Right, so I'm gonna go," she said at last.

"Yeah," Lenny nodded, shoving his hands in his pocket.

She turned to leave, then turned back around. "For the record, she'll be happy it's you. If that uh, if that means anything."

He smiled tightly at her. "Thanks," he said. He turned to leave and gave her a little wave. "See ya, Susie," he said over his shoulder, walking away.

“Yeah, see ya,” she responded slowly. She shook her head a little - offering relationship advice to Lenny freakin’ Bruce was definitely not a thing Susie ever thought she’d do - and kept moving.

She desperately wanted to be the one drowning her sorrows with Midge, but she couldn’t be. Susie didn’t think she could really even face Midge right now. How do you tell your best friend and probably only client – she doubted Sophie would want her as a manager after that verbal sparring match outside the theater – that you lost every cent they’d made? No, she had to get their money back fast and she needed time and space to figure out how to do that without letting Midge know she’d been the one to lose it all in the first place.

Besides, she knew Midge was in good hands with Lenny. She could trust him to find her and take care of her the way she deserved to be taken care of.

Midge needed to be with someone who loved her. And tonight, that meant Lenny freaking Bruce.

Susie shook her head at herself incredulously and picked up her pace. “Weird fucking day.”

#the marvelous mrs. maisel #tmmm #tmmm fic #fanfiction #fanfic #lenny x midge #midge x lenny #susie myerson #tmmm spoilers #protective friends protecting their friends #my favorite subgenre #in which the author doesn't know how to end a fanfic #lenny bruce #miriam x lenny #midge maisel

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athena-athena · 4 years

Text

Snowed In - Steve Rogers x Reader

Request from @celticheart72: “Had a one-night stand and now you’re snowed in” with Steve Rogers.

Thanks for requesting this one, @celticheart72! ❤❤ To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle this at first, but once I started writing, I really got into it. haha It ended up a lot longer than originally planned (~2300 words!), but I hope you like it!

(Let’s hope the third time’s the charm because Tumblr has been a pain tonight and has eaten my first two posts, as well as the original ask for this prompt.)

Warnings: Implied sex. One-night stand.

Tagged List: @bigbandbombshell @trashpandaorigins (I’m not going to use my normal tagged list for these, so if you’d like to be added to my temporary tagged list for this holiday bingo, just let me know!)

You walked into the cabin you were sharing with Marta, your co-worker in one of the labs at Stark Industries, as well as your best friend, and looked around in awe.

“This place is amazing!”

“Did you think Tony Stark would rent a place that wasn’t amazing?”

“I still can’t believe he rented the entire ski lodge for his employees. Most people just give gift cards.”

“I can’t believe he didn’t just buy the entire ski lodge.”

You laughed and dropped your suitcase and garment bag on the bed, then walked to the window and rested your hands on the windowsill as you gazed out at the scene. “This view is beautiful. And look! It’s starting to snow!”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t snow too much to make us miss the holiday party tonight! What do you think of this dress?”

You turned from the window to look at the dress Marta was holding up for your inspection. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks! It cost almost my entire paycheck this week. What did you bring to wear tonight?”

You unzipped your garment bag and held up your dress, which was floor-length and ivory, spangled with silver and gold stars. “I didn’t pay nearly as much as you did. There are such things as clearance sales, you know?”

“Oh my god, that’s gorgeous! You’re going to turn more than a few heads tonight.”

“I highly doubt that.” You laughed again and hung your dress up, stopping to admire the way it sparkled in the light before you returned to your suitcase and finished unpacking. “It’s not too over the top, is it?”

“No way! It’s perfect, don’t worry.”

You walked into the lobby of the hotel with Marta later than evening, still feeling self-conscious about your dress.

“Will you stop messing with your dress? You look amazing, so stop worrying about it.”

“I’m just not used to wearing stuff like this.” It was cut a little deeper in the front than anything else you’d ever worn, and you reached your hand up to cover the front of it again.

Marta grabbed your hand and held it tightly to her side. “Stop! It’s not that revealing and you’re just drawing more attention to it by keeping your hands up there. Besides, with all the Avengers here tonight, I’m sure most people will be too busy staring at them to worry about how low your dress is cut.”

“You’re right.” You squeezed Marta’s hand and the two of you walked into the ballroom together.

“Promise me you’ll have a good time tonight.”

“I promise, Marta, I’ll try to have a good time.”

“Don’t just stand next to the wall all night! That dress does not deserve to be hidden in the shadows. And how many opportunities will you have to hang out with the Avengers?”

“Well, we do work for Stark Industries, it’s not impossible to think we may bump into them again.”

“Yeah, but this is the perfect opportunity to really get to talk to them! I wonder where Thor is. Do you see him?” She stood on the tips of her toes as she tried to spot him among the crowd.

You smiled at your friend’s eagerness. “I’m sure you’ll find him soon.”

The two of you mingled for a while, bumping into Tony and Pepper briefly. Pepper gushed about your dress while Marta pressed Tony for information about Thor’s whereabouts.

You managed to pull Marta away eventually, and, as you dragged her over to the edge of the room, said in a teasing tone, “You could be a little more subtle about your crush on Thor, you know?”

“Why? I don’t care if he knows.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s go get drinks.”

The two of you maneuvered through the crowd, which was made a little trickier by your floor-length dress. You glanced down to make sure you’d lifted it enough to keep from tripping on the hem when someone suddenly bumped into you.

A hand grabbed your arm, firmly but gently, and a voice next to your ear said, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m -” You stopped talking, momentarily stunned, as you looked into the blue eyes of Steve Rogers. You shook your head slightly. “Sorry, yeah, I’m fine.”

He let go of your arm, but stayed close to you. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You were fine, except for your burning cheeks and the embarrassment you could feel rolling off of you in waves.

“Well, I’m sorry for bumping into you. I should have been watching where I was going.”

“It’s fine! It’s not your fault.”

“Can I at least get you a drink to make up for it?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that! It’s okay, I promise.”

He smiled. “I’d feel better about it if I could get that drink for you.”

You returned his smile. “Okay, thanks.”

You noticed Marta a little way ahead of you as she turned around to look for you in the crowd. She gave you a thumbs up when she saw you with Steve.

You blushed again and steered Steve to a bar set up on the other side of the room from Marta, who you knew would be only too happy to embarrass you with her enthusiasm.

When you reached the bar, Steve asked what you wanted to drink. You told him and took the opportunity to admire his profile. You’d seen him on TV before but you’d never been this close and you were a bit awed by how handsome he was.

“Here you go.”

He handed your drink to you, effectively shaking you out of your thoughts. You blushed again and hoped that his super-soldier abilities didn’t include mind-reading.

He led you through the crowd again, cupping your elbow lightly with one hand. He nodded to Natasha as the two of you passed her, and though she raised her brows at him, she didn’t stop walking. He found a small table in the corner of the ballroom that wasn’t as crowded as the rest of the room, and the two of you sat down with your drinks.

You were nervous at first, but he quickly put you at ease with his calm presence and interesting conversation. He asked about your job in the Stark Labs and listened attentively as you told him about one of your new projects.

You weren’t aware of just how much time had passed until Steve asked if he could walk you back to your cabin.

Before you knew what you were saying, the words, “I thought I might just go to your cabin instead” slipped out, tinged with a slightly flirty tone. Your face flushed red and you immediately regretted the drinks you’d had. “I am so sorry, I can’t believe I said that!”

Far from looking appalled, Steve was smiling. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

You returned his smile, though your face was still red, and said, “Well, what are we waiting for?”

When you awoke, it took a couple of seconds for you to remember where you were. When you glanced over and noticed the man asleep next to you, his bare shoulders gleaming in the moonlight, the events of the previous night rushed back to you. You were thankful your companion was still asleep so he wouldn’t see the red staining your cheeks.

You hoped it was still early enough that you would be able to make it back to your cabin before anyone noticed you’d spent the night with Steve. You stood up, pulled one of the blankets off the bed, and wrapped it around you, then went searching for your purse. You found it and slipped your phone out. Luckily, it had enough charge left for you to see the time – 2:45 A.M. - but on the other hand, you could also see the numerous texts and missed calls from Marta wondering where you were.

You groaned quietly and sent a quick text letting her know you were okay and would be back to the cabin soon. Your phone buzzed almost as soon as you’d slipped it back in your bag, and you pulled it back out to see that Marta was calling.

You walked into the living room and quietly closed the bedroom door behind you, then answered Marta’s call.

“Hello?”

“Where are you? I’ve been worried sick!”

“I’m sorry! I left the party with Steve and then I fell asleep and -”

“Steve? Steve Rogers?”

“Yeah.”

“You slept with Captain America?”

“I didn’t say I slept with -”

“Oh, come on! You didn’t have to say it.”

“Okay, fine.”

“So, how was it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe some other time. I’ve got to get back to our cabin before anyone notices where I’ve been. I don’t want to ruin Captain America’s reputation or something.”

“First of all, I don’t think you have to worry about that. Secondly, have you looked outside lately? Actually, don’t bother answering that. I know you’ve been too busy to take time to look outside.”

“Why would I look outside?” You asked as you made your way to a window, still holding the blanket up with one hand while you held the phone to your ear with the other.

“Because you, my dear, are snowed in with Captain America.”

“What?” Sure enough, when you pulled the curtain aside, you could tell you wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while.

“Oh, no!”

You heard the door behind you open and Steve asked, “What’s wrong?”

You whirled around, cheeks bright red, as you tried to hitch the blanket up a little higher. “I’m sorry I woke you up!” You suddenly remembered Marta, then murmured into the phone, ��Gotta go, I’ll call you later.”

“It’s fine.” He waved away your concern. “Why did you say ‘oh no’? Has something happened?”

“Oh, well, kinda. We’re just, um, snowed in.”

He crossed the room and stood beside you as he looked out the window. “Wow, it’s really coming down out there! Must be at least 3 feet already.”

“I’m sorry if this has made things awkward...” you trailed off as he turned from the window to look at you.

“Why would it make things awkward?”

“I just… you know, the whole world knows Captain America, and I didn’t want you to be embarrassed if it got out that you were with, um, me, because I’m not… you know...”

“You’re not what? Not good enough for me?”

You tried smiling, but you were afraid it looked more like a grimace. “Yeah.”

“That’s not true.”

His stern voice made butterflies erupt in your stomach even though you knew it shouldn’t have, and you willed your cheeks to return to a normal color.

“I just thought...”

His voice softened slightly. “You just thought that since I’m an Avenger I’d only want to be with someone who had the title superhero?”

“Yeah,” you answered quietly, looking down at the blanket you were still keeping wrapped around you, embarrassed at this unexpected turn in the conversation.

“Well, I promise I don’t want to date any of the other Avengers.”

You looked up to see him smiling, and you returned it, glad that he didn’t seem angry about being snowed in with you. “Okay.”

“And, listen, I don’t mind if people know you’ve been here all night. I’m a grown man, I don’t care what people say about me, but if you’d rather keep it quiet, I can call Tony and see if he can get this snow moved so we can get you back to your cabin relatively quietly before everyone wakes up.”

“No, you don’t have to do that. I doubt he’d be happy about getting woken up at three in the morning just to shovel snow.”

Steve laughed. “He’d get over it. It’d probably teach him not to rent an entire ski lodge for his next holiday party.”

“I doubt shoveling a little snow would keep Tony Stark from planning another elaborate party.”

Steve laughed again. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

You shivered slightly, and Steve immediately took a step closer to you, though he stopped before he got too close. “Sorry, you must be freezing. Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll sleep out here on the couch?”

You blushed again. “Don’t be silly! I mean, you know, we’ve already… already been in bed together, so why bother sleeping on the couch now?”

“Are you sure?”

You smiled. “Positive.”

His own smile widened. “Okay.”

The next morning, Steve handed you a pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt he’d pulled out of his suitcase. “I brought them to work out in, but I haven’t had a chance yet, so I promise they’re clean.”

You smiled and said, “They’re perfect, thanks.”

He left the room as you dressed, and you quickly pulled on the clothes he’d let you borrow. They were a little too big, but were still comfortable. You brushed your teeth and hair, then joined Steve in the living room, where he’d lit a fire in the fireplace and set two cups of coffee on the table in front of the couch.

“I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee, so you can add whatever you like,” he told you, motioning to the tray of coffee, which was filled with a variety of sugar, milk, and sweeteners.

“Thanks.” You sat next to him on the couch, pulled a blanket over your legs, and picked up one of the cups of coffee, relishing the warmth of it before picking up a packet of sugar to add to it.

After you finished fixing your coffee, you leaned back and pulled your feet up on the couch, then smiled at him. “Is it still snowing?”

“Yeah, it is. I checked the weather forecast and it’s supposed to keep snowing all day. I talked to Tony and he’s working with the ski lodge owners to get some snowplows up here.”

“I’m in no hurry to leave.”

He smiled at your words. “I know we said no strings at the party last night, but I was wondering if you’d like to go get dinner with me. After the snow clears up, of course.”

You smiled brightly. “I’d love that!”

His smile widened. “It’s a date, then.”

As the two of you spent the morning talking in front of the fireplace, you thanked your lucky stars for the snow that was still falling outside, and for the continued lack of snowplows.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #the avengers #steve rogers fanfiction #captain american fanfiction #the avengers fanfiction

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Flavors of Poison (part one)

[Sweet Shop AU]

TW: Alcohol, Pot, Discussion of sexual assault

———————

Cockatrice Kiss

The barn smells of sweet alfalfa and wet hay, a pleasant, earthy aroma to contrast the sugary one of Sweet Thrills. Bessie paws around on the wall before finding the light switch and flips it on, watching the weaving of rainbow fairy lights along the ceiling flicker to life and cast their soft colorful glow across the wooden building.

Even though it’s been two years since the barn was made, she still can’t help but be proud of it when she goes in each time.

It took several paychecks to make the structure, with Aragon paying some of the expenses to cover a few tools or planks of wood Bessie just couldn’t afford. After four months of endless work in the London rain and cold and several WikiHow searches on how to build a stable (with pictures), it was finally finished: the perfect, twenty foot by fifteen foot barn.

When you first enter, you get a view of the wide space behind a short fence and gate: a haven of soft hay that sprinkles the dirt like golden snow. A wide wooden box is situated in the far left corner with two heat lamps sitting atop a grate covering the carved holes in the top. Beside it is the large, oval-shaped watering tin, which contents are murky and need to be cleaned out soon, and the long feed trough, where the remnants of a grainy breakfast remain. A ball sits quietly in the center, waiting to be played with again. Its usual user is dozing in the right corner, but it’s sort of hard to tell if she’s asleep or not because of her long bangs.

“Hyde?” Bessie called softly.

She noticed the creature’s big, fuzzy ears flick upwards and the highland heifer rises to her feet.

Her coat is a beautiful orange-red color, apart from her bangs, which fade to a silver dun shade. The locks are stringy, like ribbons of steel that blanket over her dark eyes. Horns, still not fully grown, curve upwards, menacing despite their short length.

The young heifer, Hyde, bounds up to the gate, lowing loudly, which makes Bessie giggle. She stamps her hooves into the dirt, throwing up dust into the air, watching as Bessie goes to the tack area and gets her feed. She nearly knocks the girl down when she’s walking into the pen.

“Hey!” Bessie yelped when Hyde’s snout pokes into her belly, “I know you’re hungry, just hang on a moment!”

Hyde moos again, lashing her tail as she watches and reluctantly allows Bessie to do her job. Once the oats are poured into the trough, she dives in, munching happily on her dinner.

“Chubby,” Bessie said, poking the heifer’s stomach.

As if she understood (Bessie liked to think she could), Hyde lows in between chews and flicked Bessie with her long, furry tail.

“My apologies, madam!” Bessie giggled, rubbing her hand down Hyde’s spine. “Sorry I’m so late. Will you ever forgive me?”

Hyde made a muffled cow noise and Bessie smiled.

“Sleep well, beautiful. I’ll see you in the morning.”

With that, she gathered her bag, which she had left at the door, and walked out.

The trek to the house wasn’t long- she was soon unlocking the front door and stepping into the warmth of the home.

It was dark, as she expected. It was ten at night, after all, and Cathy had school the next day. Bessie couldn’t help but smile fondly at the memory of the time she and the twelve-year-old stayed up all night building on a Minecraft world together (yeah, it’s a little childish for her to partake in at her age, but she couldn’t say no to Cathy, and a “quick build” quickly turned into a giant kingdom fit for a queen- and a dragon named Hroar.)

Bessie walks past the kitchen, not bothering with dinner despite being hungry. She didn’t want to make too much noise and wake anyone up, so she just made a beeline for her downstairs bedroom-

However, she was stopped by a sharp voice.

“Dinner’s in the fridge.”

Bessie froze, slightly startled. She turned slowly to find Aragon sitting on the couch in the living room, her legs crossed neatly over one another and her hands resting in her lap. Her facial features are calm, smooth, and her eyebrows are raised, but Bessie can’t help but think the woman is annoyed with her.

“Hey, Catalina,” The girl whispered, hunching her shoulders around her neck.

“Hello, Elizabeth.” Aragon replied, “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“I picked something up,” Bessie lied.

Aragon’s eyebrows arched higher.

“No...” Bessie sighed.

“I’ve told you not to lie to me,” Aragon said. She stands up and walks to the kitchen, and Bessie follows with her head lowered.

“I’m sorry...” Bessie whispered.

Aragon pulls a platter of casserole out of the fridge and put it in the microwave, then turned to Bessie. Her eyes soften when she saw how pitiful the girl looked.

“It’s quite alright, dear,” She said. “I just worry about you. You need to eat.”

“I do!” Bessie said, then quickly lowered her voice. “I’m just- I’m tired.”

“Were you too tired to eat yesterday, too?” Aragon said, then added before Bessie could counter, “And the day before that?”

Bessie shut her mouth and lowered her head, finding the floor much more interesting. She hears a soft clucking sound and her chin is being lifted.

“I’m not doing this to be rude,” Aragon said, “I love you very much, my special girl.”

“I love you, too,” Bessie whispered. Her bottom lip quivers slightly, not because of what was said, but rather because of the amount of love this woman has for her, despite knowing what she has done.

Before either of them can say anything else, a tiny voice sounds from behind them.

“Mama?”

Aragon and Bessie turn around to see Cathy standing by the steps, rubbing her eyes with her fist, which is hooded by her pajama sleeve. Her hair is in complete disarray, making it look like the wild mane of a lion.

“I’m right here, baby,” Aragon walks to her goddaughter. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“I just woke up because I heard voices,” Cathy said, then peeks around Aragon. “Bessie’s home!”

“Hey, Cat,” Bessie waved slightly, allowing a small smile to ghost across her lips.

“You need to get back to bed,” Aragon said, then looked at Bessie. “Elizabeth, please eat, alright?”

“I will.” Bessie assured her. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night, Bessie!”

Once the two of them retreat upstairs, Bessie takes the plate of casserole out of the microwave, takes four bites, then throws the rest away, hiding it beneath other pieces of rubbish.

———

“EEUCK!!” Anne spit loudly, “You smell like a barn!”

Bessie wrinkled her nose in her coworker’s direction, slightly miffed by her dramatic reaction to the scent of cow clinging to her body.

“I didn’t have time to shower after taking care of Hyde because SOMEONE signed me up for the morning shift.” Bessie said, shooting another accusing look at Anne.

“I had already signed up for this shift and I don’t really like any of the other workers, so I didn’t want to work it with someone I couldn’t get along with!” Anne said.

“How selfless of you,” Bessie said dryly. As she’s watering Herman after switching the ‘CLOSED’ sign to ‘OPEN’ she notices Anne perk up, beaming about something.

“What?” Bessie looked at her curiously.

“There’s a party this evening,” Anne explained, “One of the frats at the college is hosting it.”

“Ah.” Bessie nodded, preparing to leave it at that, but Anne goes on.

“We gotta go!”

“No way.” Bessie immediately said.

“Come on, B, you haven’t been to a single party yet. You have to go at least once!” Anne said.

“Anne-”

“Please!” Anne was begging at this point. “Please, B! I won’t leave you alone, I promise! And if it isn’t fun or it things go bad or you get uncomfortable, then we can leave immediately! I swear it!”

Bessie looked at her coworker, who was pleading like a puppy. She’s always had a hard time saying no to people...

She sighed.

“Fine.”

“YES!!” Anne threw her arms up into the air, then hugged Bessie tightly, “Oh, thank you, B! Thank you! You won’t regret this!”

Somehow, Bessie thinks she will.

———

She expected it to play out like the same old story you read about or hear about on TV: Girl with a wild streak and some issues goes to her first legal frat party, gets drunk, and winds up in bed with a guy who ditches her and posts pictures of them doing it on the school's website. Girl is shattered, her reputation ruined and possibly ends up with a baby to sour the deal more.

So, Bessie kept a sharp eye on Anne that night, to protect her from even the slightest chance of that happening. Sure, Anne was much bigger and tougher than her, but the issues could linger and Anne was awfully fascinated by the alcoholic drinks on display.

“Just one wine cooler each, maybe two,” Bessie said, her eyes darting around everywhere. “Don't drink the punch, keep an eye on your food and drink, don't talk to anyone slurring-”

“Honey, you need to loosen up. The old Anne might have gotten herself into some deep crap, but the new Anne will be just fine. Trust me.”

Bessie didn’t know much about “old Anne” and what exactly she had gotten herself into in the past, as the two of them hadn’t known each other in high school (Anne said was living in France, but moved to London for college), but she decided to try to trust her friend.

However, it does not ease her fears.

“But-”

“Don't worry, I'll stick by you the whole night. For your sake, of course.” Anne smiled at Bessie, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. “Come on!”

Pushing their way through the dancing bodies, Anne and Bessie ventured deeper into the party house. The smell of weed, alcohol, and mixed vapes was overbearing. A girl who was dressed in a lacy, but tight black dress pushed past Bessie, her perfume almost gagging her when she pressed against her on accident. Stepping back, Bessie dodged her friends as they hurried after her, calling out a mixture of profanities as they spilled their drinks.

“Bessie!” Someone yelled across the party. Bessie whipped around, trying to pick out whoever called her name. Suddenly a sort of-friend from chemistry appeared at her elbow, shoving a drink into her hand. He smiled at her.

“I didn’t think you would come, girl, it’s cool that you did!”

Bessie smiled awkwardly, wiping the sweat gathering on her brow. The house was twice the temperature as outside, the multiple hot bodies dancing around the small building only serving to amplify the humidity that built up.

“I figured I better come at least once, or else you guys will never forgive me,” Bessie said before cautiously sipping from her glass. The burning of alcohol was unfamiliar. Still, it warmed her chest- she kind of enjoyed the bite.

“Do you wanna smoke?” Her kinda-friend asked, waggling a joint in front of her eyes.

“No, I’m- I’m okay.” She stammered.

“Come on!”

“No, really, I’m okay.”

Her kinda-friend frowned, taking a drag himself before speaking, “Whatever dude, if you hated pot smokers you should have said.”

Bessie felt guilt build as she opened her mouth to explain, but instead her kinda-friend disappeared into the mass of dancing bodies. The music was turned up, causing the bass to thump loudly in her ears, and she completely missed Anne saying something to her, so the young woman had to shake her elbow to get her attention.

“Do not smoke.” Anne said, as if she were Bessie’s mum. Bessie couldn’t help but smile at her sternness.

“Aye, aye,”

Anne smiled, then immediately whipped around afterwards, tugging excitedly on Bessie’s arm. She points to a table that several people are gathered at.

“Let’s go take shots!”

Bessie allowed Anne to lead her to the table, where the college kids were passing out shots of UV and vodka and tequila. Bessie grabbed one as it was shoved into her hands, her last glass disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

Several shots later, Bessie was pleasantly buzzed, leaning towards drunk. Her system wasn’t used to processing alcohol- it made her a lightweight. She laughed at one of the girls as she started to hack at the burn of the alcohol, while Anne bounced at her side, still hanging onto her arm, this time with both hands, as she chortled.

“Bessie?”

Through the music, Bessie heard a familiar, warm voice, and turned around to see none other than Anna.

The young woman was dressed in a red and black flannel and jeans and she was holding a glass of beer. The lights of the house cast a slight glow over her dark skin, neatly combed black hair, and friendly smile.

“Anna!” Bessie lit up. She pats Anne’s hands, causing her coworker to let go, and she hurries over to Anna.

“I didn’t know you went to parties.” Anna said.

“I usually don’t,” Bessie replied, then hiccuped. A blush flames red on her cheeks and she quickly covered her mouth. Above her, Anna laughed.

“I can tell,” She said. “You’re adorable.”

Bessie went to say something else, but just hiccuped again. She clenched her fingers tighter around her jaw, her blush creeping up to her ears and making them as hot as the rest of her body thanks to the heat inside of the house.

“You poor thing,” Anna cooed sympathetically. “First time drinking?”

Bessie nodded, not risking speaking again.

“Ah,” Anna nodded. “That explains it.” She wrapped an arm around Bessie’s shoulders and frowned. “Darling, you’re so hot... How long have you been here? Have you drank water at all?”

Bessie shrugged, then squeaks out through her fingers, “An hour? And...ah...no.”

“Let’s go get you some,” Anna decided.

After Bessie tells Anne where she’s going, she lets Anna lead her to the kitchen, which is surprisingly probably the least crowded room in the whole house, since the drink and snack stands were set up in other areas.

Anna gently presses Bessie into a chair at the dining room table and swaps her glass of tequila for a red plastic cup of water. It soothes her burning throat, washing away the sting of strong alcohol, which she is really starting to feel the effects of.

(Is is called “Fireball” because it makes it feel like a fireball is burning in your stomach?)

Bessie doesn’t register the cool fingers brushing her flushed, clammy cheek for a moment, but she’s leaning into them before she even notices they’re touching her. She pried open her eyelids to see Anna kneeling in front of her, an amused, but concerned look on her face.

“Someone isn’t handling her alcohol too well,” The dark-skinned woman teased lightheartedly.

Bessie replied with a “Mmmm” then a hiccup. Anna laughed.

“Honey, I think you should stick to water for the rest of the night.” Anna said, brushing a sweaty lock of hair out of Bessie’s damp face. “Wanna take your jacket off? You might be a little cooler.”

Bessie nodded and set her cup of water down so she could remove her jacket (with Anna’s help, of course. Her fingers were a little clumsy).

As they did so, a voice piped up.

“Elizabeth Blount?”

Bessie and Anna both look up to see a man with unruly brown hair and shrewd hazel eyes looking at them from the kitchen island. Bessie recognizes him as Thomas Cromwell, a kid who used to go to high school with her. They didn’t end up going to the same college, so he must have been invited or the party was open to students from other campuses, too.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Elizabeth Blount!” Thomas laughed, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Especially with all your clothes on!”

Bessie’s blood runs cold. At her side, Anna’s brows knit together in concern. The older woman stands up protectively.

“Who are you?” She demands.

“Thomas Cromwell,” Thomas answers openly, “Who are you? Someone new Elizabeth has tied to her bed?”

Rage flashes in Anna’s eyes.

“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that.” She seethed.

Thomas is unfazed by her anger.

“You don’t know, do you?” He tilted his head, “Elizabeth hasn’t told you? Better yet: You didn’t hear? You must not be around here. The Whore of London was big talk for everyone when we were in high school.” He leaned in, not one bit wry of Anna’s clenched, readied fists. “Just a fair warning: Don’t go to the bathroom. She’ll try to molest you.”

Bessie leapt up and raced through the crowd of people. She heard yelling behind her- she thinks it’s Anne because Anna had to be preoccupied with Thomas to go after her.

But why would she? Anna must think she’s disgusting now.

That revelation brings tears to Bessie’s eyes. She was going to lose Anna- she didn’t want to lose Anna. She liked Anna a lot. She made her smile and laugh and made the world feel good again.

She needed Anna.

But Anna doesn’t need her. Not anymore. She’s not going to visit her ever again.

Tears flow fast from Bessie’s eyes as she shoves through all the people. Some stare at her in annoyance for being pushed, others are curious as to why she’s crying, and a handful are genuinely concerned. Right as she gets to the door, a cup is thrust into her hands and she just takes it.

Cool night air stings against her burning skin, like dry ice on bare flesh.

Bessie ran away from the frat house until her legs screamed in pain and she finally had to slow down. She took a few deep breaths and sipped from the cup she was holding. Whatever its contents were burned her mouth intensely, searing down her throat as if she was swallowing molten lava, and she nearly spit it back up. However, she forced herself to choke it down and drink it all.

She’s left sputtering and frothing liquor at the lips, but she desperately needed the relief it’ll cause. Alcohol was a depressant, after all. Bessie didn’t think it was possible for her to get even more depressed, but here she was.

It was going to be a long walk home.

#sweet shop au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #anna of cleves #bessie on the bass #catherine of aragon #catherine parr #anne boleyn #thomas cromwell #banna #bessie x cleves #tw: alcohol #tw: drugs #tw: pot

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kristallioness · 4 years

Photo

2016 | 2017 | 2018

*quietly sneaks back in*... Happy New THIS Year, my dear followers! In Estonia, we have this saying that if you wish someone a 'happy new year' after Three Kings' Day (the 6th of January), you gotta have a bottle of alcohol with you and give them a drink. *lol*

Anyways, I would like to apologize for the sudden disappearance that happened prior to Christmas. I was just busy travelling back home for the holidays, unpacking and putting away my stuff, watching some great, traditional movies or shows on TV, and most importantly, working on those 2 latest masterpieces that I posted (which barely got 30 notes each.. *sigh*).

But as you can (and probably will) see, the year of the yellow earth pig (i.e. my dad's year) was a rollercoaster of emotions and accomplishments, or lacking thereof.

My creative side seems to have suffered the most due to lack of leisure time. I only managed to finish 3 full digital drawings and left behind several sketches or unfinished WIPs (2 of which are revealed here under the months of June and November for the first time, I intend to finish the Korrasami one btw). At least I got to start 2020 with a completed drawing on the very 1st day, ha-ha! Perhaps that's a good omen for this year?

If so, then I hope I'll find the time to finish the rest of the 2019 Inktober prompts, since I only did 4/31 this past October (even though I'd thought of ideas for all of them). I brought all the necessary drawing utensils and sheets of paper with me, so whenever I'm in the mood, I'll try to sketch another one.

*calculates for the nth time*.. I wrote 18,110 words worth of fanfiction, plus 820 words for the UYLD prompts (making the total 18,930). Technically, you can count another 8k+ in there, since it comes from that unfinished story (of Aang taking care of a flu-ridden Katara, as illustrated by the September sketch), which I haven't finished within the last 4 months or so. Plus, I barely wrote 1/5 of the amount compared to 2018.. *hides in shame*

Then again, I was an excellent pupil for picking up an actual book and reading through 150+ pages (which means I have ~300 pages to go). I'm talking about the new Kyoshi novel that came out. As I once said, I haven't voluntarily read a book in years make that 2 years ago (most of the reading I've done in my life is either Tom & Jerry comics, now the Avatar comic trilogies and art books as well as fanfiction online, or compulsory reading during school). But this novel is freaking fantastic superb!

Not only that, I bought all the new comic trilogies and managed to read them through. Damn, did they give me feels.. especially "Ruins of the Empire" (ngl I squeed so hard when I saw the Korrasami farewell kiss on the 1st page of the 2nd part). I can't wait to read the 3rd part this year!

However, I failed to rewatch Avatar last year, and I haven't seen Korra since.. 2016, I believe? Wow, that's 4 whole years.. But I intend to fix that mistake starting from 2020. Hopefully I'm in the mood to start my rewatch this weekend tonight. *fingers crossed*

But as I said, I had much less time to focus on my hobbies since 2019 was the year for finally moving on with my life (sort of, I'm still working on it). I still remember how down I'd been feeling for a while and how valid those emotions really were. The first quarter of the year (+ like a month or two) was a continuous descent into desperation and feelings of utter failure, which already started around the 2nd half of 2018 and only continued to deepen around that time.

Everything began to change when I was first chosen to be part of a 2-month summer internship in an IT company, and I had to start building a new nest in a new location in Tallinn this May. And now, I feel like I've hit the jackpot by getting a permanent job in another IT company this October.

I got the opportunity to work in two different fields, in two different teams within a year. I met some awesome colleagues (a lot of whom are foreigners) and got the chance to really put my English skills to the test.

Thanks to the new job, I also had to go to a free health check, which went really-really well. Despite my nervousness in the beginning, I feel much more relaxed about my physical (and mental) health, cause the results showed that everything's okay (something I'd been worried about since March 2017).

Speaking of health or staying healthy, there were a few sports events that I went to, too. Our team held the first winter team event (it was the first one for me, at least) by going to do archery in a range on the outskirts of the capital.

I watched the football match between 2 teams of our local league at my hometown together with my dad on his birthday. Our home team won the match and came in 4th place overall in the league this year, which is their best result so far (I'm really proud!). And merely days before I started work, I visited the Tallinn International Horse Show for the first time (also with my dad). I last got to watch horses jump over fences or dance to their musical programs ~ 10 years ago, and I loved it!

Event-wise 2019 was pretty full of them. As has become tradition, I went to the Defence Forces parade on our 101st Independence Day (which seemed rather bleak compared to the centennial, even more so since we didn't have ANY snow at the time).

What will hopefully become new traditions, I visited the television tower on the Restoration of Independence Day (where Uku Suviste gave a free concert in the evening), and went to the Veteran's Rock concert (to honour our war veterans) on our Freedom Square on the 23rd of April (since I'm residing in the capital now, I should be able to go again this year).

To continue with the centennial celebrations (yes, some things are STILL turning 100), I saw and explored inside the armoured train no. 7 called "Wabadus" ("Freedom") in the Baltic Station. This armoured train was one of the keys that led our country to victory during the War of Independence from 1918-1920.

There was an even bigger (150th) anniversary to celebrate in the beginning of July, when I attended our Song and Dance Festival. This was a really important, if not the biggest event of the year. I intend to make a longer post about my experience, cause it's something that you foreigners need to see for yourself. I can't simply describe or put it into words, I have to show you some videos and photos.

But while we're on the topic of concerts, I should mention that I went to 2 more at the beginning of June - Bon Jovi and Sting - as well as 2 that were part of Christmas tours in December - Elina Nechayeva and Rolf Roosalu.

Besides that, I went to 6 different festivals, half of which I'd been to several times before, such as the Türi Flower Fair, Jäneda Farm Days (where I went on my first helicopter ride for my 25th birthday present) and the Christmas market in the Old Town of Tallinn.

The other half is comprised of festivals that I'd been considering going to for a while, or which took place for the first time. The latter applies to the Black Food Festival, whereas the "Valgus Kõnnib" ("Wandering Lights") and the duck rally, both of which took place in Kadriorg, fall under the first category.

The duck rally is a charity event held in the beginning of June. Regular people can buy at least one (or several) rubber bath duckies for different prices, which will then be dumped into a tiny stream that'll carry them towards the finish line. This event has grown more popular each year, and the money the Estonian Association of Parents of Children with Cancer (sorry, long name in English!) collects is donated to the Cancer Treatment Fund.

*wipes forehead*.. Phew! I'm surprised, that's a whole lotta positivity for 2019. I think there's one more important, but seriously negative topic I haven't covered yet, but I feel should be mentioned and explained.

When it comes to politics, 2019 was a complete disaster for us. EKRE (Eesti Konservatiivne Rahvaerakond in Estonian, or Estonia's Conservative People's Party in English) i.e. our populist/nazi/pro-Trump party is in the government as of April 2019, thanks to 100,000+ idiots (out of our population of 1.3 million) who voted for them and gave them 19/101 seats in the Parliament.

No, I am NOT going to apologize for calling them a nazi party, because their main leaders have repeatedly supported ideology that's common to nazis (they use aggressive rhetoric, blame the media for making them look bad, downgrade women, minorities, are racist, anti-semitic etc...). And I will not apologize in front of the people who voted for them, because "thanks" to this, EKRE has dragged our country's reputation straight through a mud puddle (not to mention the scandals that have accompanied 5 of their ministers, 3 of who have THANKFULLY stepped down from their positions) and.. *swears like the British*.. it's BLOODY EMBARRASSING.

I am done being nice, I have at least some kind of prejudice about anyone who supports them or their ideals. And I will certainly not let Estonia end up like America. So that is why I participated in two protest events against EKRE and our current government (because the 2 other parties, who were willing to form the coalition with them, are spineless jellyfish that simply seek to hold onto their current positions of power). I'm willing to take bets as to when our government falls (the sooner the better).

*shakes off the frustration*.. Brrr! So besides that, I guess the only downside to 2019 was my spare time falling back in the list of priorities (which shows in the empty square of July).

2020 is gonna be the year of the white metal rat. I can only hope (and take action so) that it'll be just as eventful, and much more creative than 2019. Thank you all for following me (or lurking anonymously) for so long, especially to the bloggers who've offered me support through better or worse! *raises a glass* Here's to 2020!.. *sip*

#personal #shards of Kristal

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