#hell there are a few of them I could do without even wearing a wig
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Happy Halloween!
‘Nes, picture this. Gates open at dusk. Nobody leaves until dawn. There’s a whole section of rides. A zombie maze. And a haunted house with three floors.’
Nesta wrinkled up her nose and slapped the brochure that Cassian had thrust under her nose away. ‘Why would I want to picture it when you have jammed it so close to my face that it is the only thing I can see?’
‘So, is that a yes?’
Cassian waited for her answer, an excited smile dominating his expression. Nesta hated Halloween. Hated anything to do with it. Hated motion activated skeletons that gave a warble when she walked by, hated the lurid orange colour that plastered every aisle, and absolutely despised the smell of rotting pumpkins. He knew it.
‘Yes, you may go. I will stay here with the lights off so nobody rings my doorbell.’
Cassian let out a snore. ‘You’re no fun.’
Horror movies were fine. Nothing particularly scared her about them. The acting was generally terrible, the effects even worse, and all of them put women through hell while they wore few clothes. It was the ridiculous hype weeks before that she hated. There was absolutely no need for it.
‘Go and play with Rhys or Azriel,’ she said, reaching around him for her book.
‘They are already coming. I have to buy the tickets and I’m going to look like an idiot if you don’t come along.’
Nesta snorted. ‘I have bad news, Cassian. You look like an idiot regardless of my presence.’
Cassian clutched his chest. ‘Ouch. Somebody hasn’t had their nap today.’
Maybe her words had been a little bit too harsh. For a few weeks now, she had been debating their relationship and the merits of continuing it. They had more bad days than good. Arguments were their common currency. The relationship was becoming stagnant. He made it difficult to visualise a future when he still had the mental age of a teenage boy and lived in Rhysand's basement. But Cassian was also kind and funny, willing to cut the heart from his chest for his family. It wasn’t fair to keep hurting his feelings when her mind swung one way. She knew they were close to breaking point, he did too.
‘Fine. Book the tickets.’
A kiss was pressed to her cheek. ‘You are the best.’
***
Halloween dawned on them. Nesta had begrudgingly agreed to wear a costume for their night time festivities. She’d have sworn that Cassian preferred Halloween over Christmas as he’d barely been able to contain his excitement in the run up to the holiday. Nesta had lost count of the amount of times she’d returned home from work to a prank that had her clenching her jaw shut or threatening to take back the key she had offered to him for her home.
‘It’s called trick or treat, Nes. You can’t just eat candy without the trick side.’
‘I pay for the candy, so I can do what I want,’ she snapped. ‘Save your pranks for April Fool’s Day. It’s named after you.’
Cassian gave a slight grimace then hurried towards the bedroom. It had been a long day at work and now she was expected to stay up all night at a ridiculous spooktacular, as they called it, which meant she’d be grumpy all weekend from a lack of sleep.
When Cassian returned, he was whistling a tune and carrying a red bucket filled with water that he tipped down the sink.
‘Was that meant to fall on my head?’
‘I’m pleading the fifth,’ he replied.
Nesta let out a low laugh. ‘Oh, I could have really decorated the place in the spirit of things if that had happened to me.’
‘If I ever turn up dead one day, you have made so many threats that you will be the prime suspect.’
They got ready at her place. She opted for Morticia Addams because it meant she only needed to purchase a crappy wig and wear a dress she rarely wore, rather than buy a plastic costume that was a fire hazard. His phone was buzzing constantly. She risked a glimpse at the screen and it was plastered with messages from Feyre, Mor, Rhys, and Azriel telling them to hurry up because they needed to go. Cassian was still in the bathroom. She’d heard him grunting and swearing in between his razor buzzing. He’d stayed quiet on his costume, telling her it would be a big secret.
When he finally did emerge, Nesta burst out laughing.
‘What the hell are you supposed to be?’
‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’
His face was bright red and caked in face paint. It was all over his hands and neck too. Cassian had even shaved off most of the scruff on his face, but left a soul patch in its stead.
‘You look like a fucking tomato!’
Trying to hold onto his dignity, Cassian added a pair of plastic red horns to his head and picked up a pitchfork.
‘I’m the devil,’ he said in a tone that sounded as if he’d like the earth to split under his feet so hell could call him home. ‘I saw a tutorial, but it seems I lack the skills with face paint and liquid latex to do it justice.’
Nesta couldn’t muster a reply. He looked hilarious. It was only when she scanned his body that she took in the tight-fitting, red Lycra outfit which wouldn’t be out of place in an eighties fitness video - and the knee high black boots over it.
‘Are you the devil from The Powerpuff Girls or what?’
He let out a long groan as his phone continued to buzz with notifications.
‘Go and wash it off. Please. I am begging you.’
‘I tried! It has stained my skin bright red so I look like I’m having an allergic reaction. It’s better if it stays on.’
‘Really?’ Nesta threw up her hands. ‘We will be late. It’s dark. Nobody will notice how bad it looks.’
They hurried down the road where the rest of their group was waiting for them by Rhys’ car. Azriel, the designated driver because he never needed sleep, honked the horn in greeting. Rhys and Feyre had matched their outfits as Harley Quinn and the Joker. Mor had dressed as some sort of sexy red riding hood in a gingham dress that skimmed her thighs matched with knee high socks and a red hood.
Feyre let out a horrified shriek of laughter. ‘What the fuck are you, Cass?’
He turned to Nesta, eyes pleading. ‘You said they wouldn’t notice in the dark.’
‘You are glowing red,’ remarked Rhys. ‘Even the man in the moon can see you.’
In a bad mood, Cassian clambered into the back of the car. It lowered beneath his weight. Nesta had to press her lips together to stop her laughter from making the situation worse. She wasn’t able to make eye contact with Feyre or that would set her off.
‘I’ll try and talk to him,’ said Mor as they began to file into the car.
It left Nesta riding shotgun with Azriel. She scanned him for some sort of clue to his costume, but in the end, she needed to ask.
‘An axe murderer,’ he replied, pulling a plastic axe from his coat. ‘They look like everybody else.’
‘Good choice.’
The key turned in the ignition and he grumbled, ‘I hate Halloween.’
***
If one more dumbass jumped out at Nesta in the queue, she would punch them. She didn’t care if it was their job to scare guests. Anybody who got paid to shout boo needed a better job.
‘Is it too late to turn back?’
Azriel drawled out a laugh. ‘I don’t think Cass will ever forgive us if we leave.’
Her overgrown boyfriend was alight with anticipation. He didn’t need to crane his neck to look towards the start of the queue as he was gigantic, but he still lamented that they’re arrived too late. There were so many better costumes he could have gone for. The iron giant. Frankenstein’s monster. Mothman. Not a tomato with an outfit so tight that everybody could see his dick print.
A bored, middle-aged woman sat at the ticket booth. She scanned their tickets with as much zeal as one of the undead then they were in the grounds of the Spooktacular. What a stupid name.
As if preparing for battle, Cassian drew them into a circle and held the map of park out in the centre. A finger pointed to where they currently were. ‘Everybody is flocking in here. The rides will be busy now, and most of the night, so it doesn’t matter when we go on them. There will be time, before you ask, Morrigan. The haunted house is only accessible via the maze. It’s meant to be shit-your-pants scary, but only for those brave enough to make it through the zombie maze.’
‘Cass, you know it’s not real, right?’
He held up a hand in Rhys’ face, ignoring his question. ‘We need to get to the other side of the park, tackle the maze, do the haunted house while it’s not too busy to get the full experience. There’s a cinema showing old black and white films we can check out, food stands over on this part. I think there’s a costume competition.’
‘You’ll be entering that,’ said Azriel, a smirk on his lips.
‘He’ll scare everybody with that thing,’ said Rhys, pointing to Cassian’s crotch.
Cassian shushed them. ‘Don’t interrupt. I’ll lose my train of thought. I’ve lost it. Fireworks mark the end of the celebrations. If we make it to dawn then we get a survivor’s medal.’
‘You mean we won’t get locked in? I can leave whenever I want?’ Nesta pressed her hands together in prayer.
‘We’re staying until the end.’
‘Yeah, Nesta. Don’t you want a crappy plastic medal at the end?’ Feyre teased.
Nesta was not a night person. She had never been a night person. She could wake up at five in the morning as fresh as a daisy to begin her day – but ask her to stay awake until that time? Not a chance. If she stayed with Cassian, this would be her life every Halloween.
‘Let’s go team,’ he called and led the way towards the monstrously large maze.
She lurked at the back with Azriel. Nesta gave him a soft elbow in the side. ‘Let’s go team.’
‘Don’t,’ he replied, warning in his voice.
‘I feel like we’re in an episode of Scooby-Doo.’
Azriel gave a chuckle. ‘If he says let’s split up gang, I’m going with you. We’ll go and find a beer.’
The maze was ridiculously high. And enormous. Even Cassian was not tall enough to peer over the hedges to find the way. It would take them forever to bumble their way through to the promised haunted house. There likely wasn’t even a haunted house on the other side. Hopefully it was the car park and they could go home.
A smoke machine was working its hardest to pump the hedges with mist. Spooky, she thought with disdain. The way was lit with jack-o-lanterns. Through the hedges, Nesta could make out the low groaning of zombies and the terrified shrieks of patrons as they tried to find their way along the twisting paths.
‘Cass, you should just lift me onto your shoulders,’ called Mor.
Ugh. Yes, I’m sure you’d love to have your bare thighs around his face again, Nesta thought.
It was a few times, long ago, apparently. They were friends. It hadn’t meant anything. But they still took trips together alone and her name was still in his phone with a few heart emojis that she had apparently put there and they flirted relentlessly still. Everything was just perfect.
A zombie burst out from one of the turns they could take. His arms were outstretched, flaking fake blood on his chin. Rhys shrieked.
‘Fuck,’ he breathed.
‘Sorry man,’ the zombie replied, breaking character with his laughter, then went back down the passage he’d been lurking.
At least five times, they hit a dead end. Cassian was adamant he could find the way through without any help. They had met no end of zombies too. It was freezing cold, fake smoke was irritating her lungs, and they were nowhere closer to the damn haunted house waiting on the other side. This was on its way to being one of the worst nights of her entire life.
Their group was beginning to stretch out. Mor, after shrieking like a banshee for the eighth time, had locked onto Cassian at the front for safety. There was a gap at the front. Azriel was talking to Rhys about work as if this was a normal activity for them to engage in, while Feyre had her hand in Rhys’ as she ate a candied apple. Nesta trailed at the back, forgotten, eating candy.
It could not be more obvious to Nesta that she was not part of this group. It was an uncomfortable truth. She kept throwing it back, but like the tide, it came back to her again and again. Whilst she did not expect to be on the same page as her significant other for everything, fundamentally, Nesta and Cassian were too different for the long term. Each step through the mist felt like it was pulling a veil away rather than hiding it; they were not meant to be. In the pit of her stomach, Nesta knew when they left the spooktacular scarefest, she’d need to have that conversation with him and end it for good.
Screams sounded followed by the thump of shoes.
Nesta threw herself backwards into a hedge as a hoard of screaming teenagers came galloping down the narrow space of a crossroads. Behind them was a swarm of zombies who were thoroughly enjoying their job.
When the dust settled, Nesta froze.
‘Oh no.’
Her group had been swept up with the screaming and running. She had lost them.
After waiting a while in the hope that they might come back for her, it seemed obvious that they hadn’t even realised she was missing. She tried not to be hurt by it, but tears still prickled her eyes.
There was no cell signal in this damn place. There was also no turning back. She was too deep into the maze to retrace her fumbling steps and find the way. She had to follow the sounds of screams to try and catch up to the massive group. Perhaps it was the workers’ way of clearing out the maze before it became too congested. Nesta would find her way through and meet them by the haunted house.
At a fork, Nesta paused. It was only her and pumpkins. Neither way offered any insight to the group’s whereabouts. There were still screams, but they came in every direction, as far as the amusement park. There was a chocolate coin in her bag of candy. The foil featured a skull on one side, crossbones on the other.
‘Heads I go left.’
Nesta flipped the coin.
‘Right it is.’
It was eerie to be alone. Nesta shivered against the cold. It was surely close to midnight by now. She risked a glance upwards – a full moon. Why was that panicking her? None of this was real. A full moon meant nothing. None of this was real.
A zombie stepped into her path. Her face was painted grey with blood splattered all over it. Before she could even begin groaning, Nesta held up a finger. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
‘Oh, come on.’
In her marching, she encountered two more zombies. One of them, she threatened to punch and was told she’d receive assault charges if she did.
‘You can address the charges to the Addams Family residence.’
This was turning into an actual nightmare. She was cold and tired and wanted to go home. Why didn’t she take up Elain’s offer of a cosy night in watching chick flicks?
Logic would guide her through this. She just needed to remember which way she had originally been facing, figure out which direction she was turning through and she would find her way. It was easy. Easy peasy.
‘You’re going in circles,’ one of the zombies said. ‘I’ve seen you three times now.’
‘You are joking.’
Sure enough, at his feet was a knobbly pumpkin that was particularly grotesque. She had seen it before.
With a noise that could earn her employment with the other zombies, Nesta pressed herself into the hedge. ‘I am going to be in this maze for the rest of my life.’
Something came over her. Perhaps it was the full moon. Perhaps it was being in a relationship with an overgrown child who had abandoned her in the damn maze that she didn’t want to be in to begin with. Nesta started ripping off leaves and throwing them at the ground as if it might solve anything. She even kicked the hedge then immediately regretted it when a scratch raised up on her ankle.
‘What did that hedge ever do to you, Morticia?’
A deep, smooth voice jerked her attention away from battering the hedge.
The man had gone all out on his costume. He wore a fine blue suit with a golden patterned brocade and a billowing white shirt. A few drops of blood stained it crimson. It didn’t look cheap at all. His red hair was drawn back against the nape of his neck. He tilted his head which revealed the sharp points of his incisors. No fake plastic fangs.
‘It trapped me inside,’ she answered. ‘Dracula?’
‘Lestat. Close enough.’
‘Have you lost your friends too?’
‘No, I come to Halloween events alone,’ he replied, the sarcastic tone impossible to miss.
Nesta’s brow bunched. ‘I wonder if I can make one of these branches into a stake to ram through your chest.’
It made him laugh. It was a rich thing that sent goosebumps skittering along her skin.
‘Walk together?’
Nesta should have shut down the offer immediately. Wandering around with strange men dressed as vampires at night wouldn’t lead to anything good – but as it was, she was lost in this fucking maze and it was better to have company even if he did end up draining her blood.
They debated each fork, chose each path carefully as if it was a puzzle that they might be able to crack rather than a random route a mad farmer had decided. The man, Eris, shucked off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
At a dead end sat the Grim Reaper. A black hood was pulled down over their face and a scythe was held in one hand.
‘You have come to the end of your journey, weary soul. You must answer the riddle that was foretold.’
Eris scoffed. ‘That’s a terrible rhyme. It barely even rhymes.’
‘Yeah, well, you try saying it for eight hours a night,’ the Grim Reaper retorted. ‘Are you done? Can I carry on?’
The utter shock of being spoken back to was plastered onto Eris’ expression. It clearly did not happen often. Nesta held back her laughter; Eris had been good at getting them through the maze plus he’d let her wear his expensive jacket.
‘I protect. I stand tall. My purpose is to strike fear in all. What am I?’
‘The cops,’ Nesta offered.
Eris buried his laugh with a cough. ‘I think the answer is a scarecrow.’
The Grim Reaper stood. ‘Curses, you have solved my riddle,’ he said, voice unimaginably bored. The gate behind him creaked open. ‘You have found your freedom… for now.’
A pale hand gestured for Nesta to lead the way out of the maze and she had never been so glad to leave a place before.
‘That is a man who hates his job,’ said Eris, lips close to her ear.
The haunted house loomed in front of them. More squeals and shrieks echoed from within. It was not as big as Cassian had made it out to be, but it certainly looked haunted. Spiderwebs hung from the awning so that they dripped all the way to the steps. The wrought-iron fence was rusted and crooked, running the length of the property, save for the squeaking gate. On a hidden speaker, a child’s eerie laughter sounded on a loop along with come play with me.
‘If they have hired child actors for this bit, I won’t hesitate to hit them,’ Nesta said.
‘Stick close, fair maiden, and we will find our way through.’
Nesta pouted. She searched for a worker but there were no signs of any. This was why costumes were an utterly ridiculous idea. ‘I should wait here to see if my friends appear.’
‘Some friends, abandoning you.’
‘Yours did,’ she pointed out.
Eris held up his hands. ‘Mine are brothers. Every year we try and lose at least one of us.’
‘Well, one of mine is a sister and another is a soon to be ex-boyfriend.’
Her breath fogged in the air from the cold. There didn’t seem to be any sign of them coming through the gate. By the time they did emerge, Nesta would have turned into an icicle.
‘You go. Don’t waste your time with me.’
‘I will never abandon you. Especially not on Halloween when there’s a full moon in the sky.’
Nesta raised her brows. ‘Oh yeah? What might get me?’
Another group had made it out of the maze and were making a racket as they hurried towards the house’s gate. Eris pointed at them. His amber eyes tracked over their costumes. ‘There could be killer clowns or… hot dogs on the loose.’
Indeed, one was dressed in an inflatable hot dog costume.
‘Do you think they’re like werewolves? The full moon turns her into a hot dog?’
‘I’m more likely to do damage than she is,’ Nesta grumbled. ‘I am so hungry and so tired. You know what, I have another idea.’
Nesta pulled open the purple gate that they had come through, much to the Grim Reaper’s shock.
‘Do we have to do the haunted house? Isn’t there another route back to the main part?’
‘There are three routes out of the maze. Two of them lead back to the park. You, lucky devils, found the only path to the Horrifying Haunted Mansion. You must go through it.’
‘I believe that goes against safety regulations,’ said Eris.
‘Minimum wage. Zero hour contract. Talk to my boss.’
***
‘Two more rooms to go through.’
That was two rooms too many, Nesta thought. She had lost count of the amount of times she had screamed. Most of the Spooktacular had been hit-acular instead. Not this haunted house. It was not for the faint hearted. She had expected plastic masks hanging from strings or glow in the dark skeletons that swung into her from fraying ropes.
This was horrid.
After the first monster had come sprinting across the room at them under a deluge of strobe lights, Nesta had clung onto Eris like a koala. There was not point in feigning bravery when everything in this house seemed hellbent on giving her a heart attack; the actors hired for this part were deranged. Nesta had gone from keeping close to Eris, to walking behind him, fingers digging into his billowing shirt, to burying her face practically in his armpit and relying on him to guide her through.
She wished Cassian was here.
Not for comfort, but so he could be traumatised by this fucking place instead.
Eris blew out a breath. ‘There’s blood seeping out from under the door. I’ll carry you.’
Was this guy for real?
If he dropped her, Nesta would kill him though.
Carefully, Nesta was lifted by Eris, so she tucked her face into the crook of his neck.
‘What’s in the room?’
‘Do you really want me to describe it?’
Yes. No. She wasn’t sure.
After peeping open one eye, she wished she hadn’t. People were manacled from the ceiling, heads lolling uncomfortably. Raw meat hung from hooks. As Eris had described, fake blood soaked the floor. She was fairly certain it was fake blood. It better have been fake blood. Jars filled with severed limbs, eyeballs, and organs lined the wall. It looked like something out of Saw.
‘The raw meat is bad enough but if they’ve used animal blood, it’s a health violation. I’ll have them shut down,’ Eris muttered.
Nesta screwed her eyes shut.
‘Whoever made this place was an absolute freak. And not in a good way.’
Eris’ laugh made a rumble deep in his chest. ‘What’s the good way?’
‘The kinky sexy way,’ she said, before she could stop herself.
‘Ah, like handcuffs instead of manacles?’
‘No comment.’
Although Nesta had known the man for only an hour, she already could tell that he’d be grinning at her comment. And something about that had her pressing a smile against his skin in return.
‘What would be your absolute nightmare? In the final room, what do you not want to see?’
‘Oh my god. Is this going to be a strange set up meant only for me? I hope it’s not a million dollars. I’m afraid of becoming a millionaire.’
Was it bad that her first thought went to Cassian down on one knee proposing to her with all of his friends there to witness it? That would be a nightmare. He'd trap her so she couldn't say no. She cared about him. Loved him. But she wasn’t in love with him. Wasn’t sure if she ever had been. Lust had made her get carried away and before she knew it, there was pressure from all sides to make it something more. Never again would she tangle herself with a man that her sisters already knew. It made everything more complex.
She was set down on the creaking floorboards. ‘Do I want to open my eyes?’
‘Probably not,’ he supplied.
They were faced with a narrow corridor. At the end of it was the backdoor. Freedom beckoned.
‘We’ll run for it.’
There were circular holes cut into the wall that Nesta had a sinking feeling meant hands were going to try and grab it.
‘If you grope me,’ she called, ‘I will be contacting my lawyer.’
‘Ready to run?’
‘Hold my hand,’ she begged, clinging onto Eris. If her heart wasn’t hammering so hard, she might have felt pathetic. As it was, her friends had ditched her in a zombie maze and this vampire had swooped in to save her.
With her hand locked firmly into Eris’, they sprinted towards the backdoor. Sure enough, black-gloved hands shot out as they ran, grabbing onto clothing and limbs. When they burst through the door, they tangled in sticky cobwebs that had her shrieking.
‘You survived!’
Another Grim Reaper stood before them using their scythe to point in the direction they were to go.
Nesta threw her arms around Eris, feeling the hard muscle of his body. She was reluctant to ever let him go. He seemed to be of the same attitude, because he’d set off down the dimly lit path with one arm hooking her to him.
A feeling of disappointment settled on her tongue. If Nesta had entered that house with her group, Cassian would have gravitated to Mor and supported her through it. She’d have been at the back still, squealing and panicking unless Azriel took pity on her.
Thank goodness for Eris.
‘I wouldn’t have survived that without you.’
‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘If we’d have turned the lights on, it would have been crappy fake blood and local thespians getting too into it. The darkness makes everything a bit scarier. You did great.’
‘Eris, I’d have sat on the floor and refused to move. How were you so calm?’
Eris tipped back his head in low, false laughter. ‘Oh, compared to my father, that house was a leisurely jaunt. I am starving. I couldn’t work out if it was your stomach grumbling or a prisoner of the house. What about a late dinner?’
***
‘There has to be something. Something in the past that made you hate Halloween.’
Nesta tugged a slice of pizza from the rest, marvelling at the stringy cheese drooping from it. ‘It wasn’t even Halloween. Goosebumps.’
‘The books? I mean when you’re ten, they’re truly scary,’ Eris teased.
She chewed down a mouthful of pizza. They’d found the cluster of food stalls with tired workers who looked as if they were counting down the hours until dawn so they could go home. A large seating area was in the middle of the stands so they’d set up camp there, Nesta still in Eris’ jacket. There was a cage with a few bats in that Eris commented was a food standard violation to have them so close to people dining.
‘No, the show. There was one episode. It freaked me out.’
‘The sponge under the sink?’
‘Seriously? No.’
‘Oh! Night of the Living Dummy – with Slappy? My brother hated that. We actually bought a Slappy and put it in his bed. He cried for hours.’
‘The one at Horrorland with those green things. Then it turns out they’re on a monster game show. But the start of the episode really did a number on me.’
Eris put his arm across her back and stroked up and down. ‘You poor thing. I hated Are You Afraid of The Dark with that monster in the swimming pool. I made my little brother sleep in my bed. Told my mother he was the one afraid, not me.’
They ate the rest of their shared pizza in a hush that wasn’t unpleasant. They’d both opted for coffee to keep them awake – and keep them warm. His knee was pressed to her thigh. A hand rested on top of his leg and Nesta had the mad urge to hold onto it like she had in the haunted house. Something held her back – a loyalty to Cassian that he had never deserved.
Positioned near the heaviest traffic of the park, Nesta was scanning the crowds for signs of her group. Many people had left. Only a few idiots would remain until the dawn – her group included.
‘You can go,’ Nesta insisted. ‘Won’t your brothers drive off if you’re not with them?’
Eris rummaged into the pocket of the jacket she was wearing – because he’d refused its return – and pulled out a set of car keys. ‘We all drove separately. We don’t like each other enough to car pool.’
That was a wise idea. Nesta wished she’d have taken her own transport so she could have turned around at the gates and gone home. She supposed she’d not have met Eris if she had done that. Some things were worth enduring.
‘This soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend. Is it because he left you in the maze?’
Generally, Nesta was not a person who liked to share her business with other people. It felt a lot like airing dirty laundry. She did not care for gossip – her own or otherwise. But she had few friends. The two she did have thought Cassian was wonderful because Nesta had never been able to be honest about the problems in the relationship and cast him in a bad light.
It felt different to be dressed as Morticia Addams, sharing a pizza with Lestat de Lioncourt. Eris was a stranger who she’d never see again. What did it matter if she spilt her heart to him?
‘That was the final nail in the coffin. I didn’t want to come here, but he doesn’t really take no as an option. If I didn’t come tonight, I wouldn’t hear the end of it. I’m boring. I’m no fun. None of his friend’s girlfriends kick up such a fuss. He also slept with his friend and she’s still around all the time. I can’t voice that it makes me uncomfortable because then I’m being jealous and controlling.’ She took a sip of the too-hot coffee to act as a distraction. ‘We’re not compatible. I keep trying to resurrect a dying relationship – but why? I’m not even happy with him. I’m not myself with him.’ Nesta gave a yowl of frustration. ‘I change myself for him all the time – I hate dressing up.’
Nesta focused on the blurring lights of one of the stalls to distract herself.
Carefully, Eris’ hand landed on the back of her head to slip her wig off. His fingers twined in her scrunchie at the nap of her neck to pull that loose so her hair fell freely then he handed her a napkin to wipe away the crimson lipstick staining her.
‘Thank you.’
Eris gave a tight smile in response. ‘I think you’re wonderful as you are. Kicking hedges, threatening to stake me through the heart, or taking the slices with the most cheese on.’
‘You caught that?’
‘Next time, I get the cheesiest slices. Let me drive you home.’
There could be nothing more foolish than accepting a ride from a stranger, but it was tempting. He’d proved himself to be polite and charming, never putting his hands on her more than he needed to – and sometimes Nesta had wished they did linger on her.
‘I ought to stay. Get my survivor’s medal.’
Eris cocked his head to one side. ‘Why?’
Because Cassian would be annoyed with her if she didn’t stay. They’d talk about it for weeks afterwards, how Nesta was the only one who didn’t follow through with the plan or how she ruined the evening by getting lost in the maze. Everything could be spiralled back to being her fault somehow. She didn’t want the crappy medal. The only good moment of the night had been meeting Eris.
‘I have heated seats.’
‘Sold,’ Nesta said, rising to her feet.
Eris offered her an arm to take, ever the gentleman. As the night grew colder by the moment, his warmth was welcomed. They weaved through goblins and ghouls, witches and werewolves, as they crossed the funfair. Nesta still kept a look out for Cassian or Feyre but couldn’t see them.
‘You don’t want to go on the big wheel? The ghost train?’
‘I have had enough of Halloween. I want to go home, go to bed, and tomorrow I’m staying on the couch eating candy all day.’
Eris made a low groan that was almost erotic. ‘I am envious of your life.’
‘What is your plan?’
‘Try not to get too excited but I am a health and safety executive.’
‘Ooh, safety standards and worker rights. Tell me more.’
He gave her a soft nudge in the ribs. ‘I studied law because I like arguing. It turns out I like ruining fun too. I’m coming back here tomorrow when it’s light to shut down half the park. The maze was too narrow, it breeched safety standards. If there had been an evacuation, it fell short of requirements. And as for the murder house, well, that will be feeling the full wrath of health and safety laws.’
Nesta tipped her head back and made a moan to rival Eris’ one. ‘Oh, I love it when you talk OSHA.’
‘It’s not the most exciting job, I’ll admit. It pays well. There is travel involved. I’m high up the ladder already.’
‘Did you actually come here with brothers?’
‘Nesta,’ he sighed, amber eyes snagging on her. ‘Do you think my hobby is walking around dressed as a vampire picking up abandoned women in mazes?’
‘We all have our hobbies, Eris.’
‘My brothers and I always check one out as civilians. They’re into it. It gives me a chance to see the on-the-ground running before I swoop in and they have time to hide their atrocities’
The car park was far emptier than it had been when they’d pulled up that evening. At her request, they’d gone to check if Rhysand’s car was still there. Her heart sank at the empty space. They had gone. At some point, the group had just left, left without her.
Eris must have read something in her face because he stopped walking and pulled her into a tight embrace. She burrowed against his chest, so fed up of being an afterthought.
‘I know what it will be. It will be my fault because I got lost. Not theirs for running off. I will have ruined their whole evening.’ Her voice came out muffled against his shirt.
His arms encased her. She fit naturally to his body as two pieces of a puzzle. Lips pressed to her forehead. ‘You deserve far better than this. You’re wasted on people like that.’
For a while, they remained cuddling in the car park, neither one quite ready to stop it. It was only when a man dressed as Jack Skellington wolf-whistled at them did they reluctantly peel apart. Eris brushed away her gratitude for the comfort, but he kept his arm around her as they walked.
When they reached his car, it was worth more than she had in her bank account. He held the door open for her, those manners gleaming. ‘My lady.’
‘If you call me that again, I may let you drink my blood.’
He pushed away her hair so his fingers could trail the vein of her neck. It was tantalisingly slow then he drew back and closed the car door, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
Nesta had to stop herself from squealing and kicking her legs as he walked around to the driver’s side. If she met a man like Eris each time she was abandoned in a maze, she’d go to Spooktaculars more often.
On the drive home, her phone finally started to ping with messages as she received signal. They gradually became more frantic then angry as if she was deliberately avoiding them. Rather than message Cassian, who would undoubtedly blow up her phone if he found out she was riding home with a stranger, she messaged Feyre. It was a simple thing.
You left me behind in the maze. No signal. Thanks for waiting. Found my own way home.
‘I should probably say it now before we get to my door. I don’t sleep with men on the first date so don’t try and come into my house.’
Eris gestured to himself as he drove. ‘I need an invitation to enter a home.’
True to his word, at the door, Eris did not try to convince her to let him in. The house was dark which meant Cassian wasn’t up waiting for her.
‘Thank you for looking after me.’
He swept into a bow. ‘It was my honour. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight,’ she replied.
Coldness slipped over her body – and not from the weather. Eris smiled and gave a wave as he walked down the garden path. He waited by his car for her to unlock the house, to see her safely inside, but Nesta felt was numb. Eris had done what she had asked. He hadn’t pushed his luck or tried for a kiss or more. He’d been a shining example of a gentleman all night. So why was she annoyed he hadn’t tried to get her into bed?
***
The soft vibrations of her phone dragged her out of sleep at eleven.
‘I’ve been so stressed,’ Cassian said as a greeting.
Not worried enough to search the park for her, not worried enough to wait at the gates, not worried enough to come to her house.
‘I had to stay at Mor’s. You had the key. I’m still bright red.’
‘Don’t call me for the rest of the day,’ replied Nesta and she hung up the phone.
It had never felt so good. She wished she still had a flip phone so she could slam the two halves together; it gleaned more satisfaction that way. A couple more times, Cassian tried to call then Mor’s phone number flashed up on her screen – a crappy attempt to get into contact.
Nesta ignored it.
She was tired and in a rotten mood as she knew she would be the morning after a crap Halloween Spooktacular. Although, it hadn’t all been bad.
After shuffling to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, Nesta spotted the note pushed through the post box that was sat on the door mat. It was a sloping, elegant script that was almost too small for her to read easily.
Trick or treat. Check behind the plant pot.
Reluctantly, Nesta opened the front door a few inches in her pyjamas, half-expecting an egg to be thrown at her. Behind the large, ceramic plant pot on the stoop was a paper bag filled with candy and chocolate. There was an envelope tucked inside. Her name was on the front in the same looping handwriting.
Nesta,
I realised in my excitement to share OSHA guidelines with you that I never asked you what you did for a living. That must be rectified. I understand that you are in the midst of emotional upheaval and I completely understand if you are not ready to date – presuming the soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend has been bestowed his new title.
Please call me. I promise I won’t force you through any mazes or haunted houses. Enjoy your day – here’s more candy to get you through.
Yours eternally,
Eris.
At the bottom of his letter was his number so Nesta needed to restrain herself from calling him then and there with bird nest hair and pyjamas.
No, the Spooktacular had not been all bad.
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what’s your eta? || 03: kissing a fool
ship: kyle broflovski x fem!reader
synopsis: Y/N finds herself on a park bench, soaking in the rays of sunlight. Kyle finds himself having to accompany Ike to the park. Cartman finds himself walking down the snow-covered sidewalk, looking for someone to help him escape from his troubles and worries. Tolkien finds himself at his front door, answering a knock he never knew he dreaded.
Would unintentionally adding gasoline to an already raging wildfire save the environment, or would it destroy it even more?
wc: ≈ 3330
everyone's in high school, canon divergence, based off of s21 e7 (doubling down), y/n is NOT heidi turner. slightly ooc, whatever.
read on ao3 | prev | masterlist | playlist
notes: FINALLY POSTING IT TO TUMBLR HELL YEAH also i designed the logo myself it took me an hour so um. never doing that shit again
You sat there, on a bench, watching lazily as Soleil sat on the playground swings with her friends and Dallas went to play basketball. Your parents had asked you to take your two siblings outside, because, apparently, as your mom had put it, they needed some vitamin D.
So there you were, just basking in the sunlight and letting the cool Colorado breeze brush against your cheeks. Soft clouds dotted the sky like paint on a canvas, making for a rather nostalgic sight.
It reminded you of your childhood, when times were funner and you were still in elementary. You thought back to your memories fondly, smiling lightly at the memory of Wendy and a few Iraqis shooting your fourth-grade substitute teacher, Ms. Ellen into the sun. Though a bit harsh, the memory was actually a bit amusing and you let out a soft chuckle as the story replayed in your head
There were even more memories you wanted to reminisce about, but something else was on your mind.
That very thought was the extremely fresh break-up between you and Eric Cartman. It had happened the night prior, and now you were wondering how you would face him at school that following Monday. Thank god it was Saturday so you’d have a chance to try and avoid him.
Of course, you weren’t completely safe.
There was always the possibility of him coming to your house and waiting for you outside, or, even worse, knocking on the door and witnessing him bothering and pestering your family in trying to get them to ask you if you’d ever get back with him. It was quite the specific scenario, but it had happened before and he had done it to you multiple times in the past.
That wouldn’t happen, you were sure of it. Your tactic of avoiding him like the plague and making yourself unrecognizable had seemingly worked, due to the fact that you were wearing a mask and you had one of Soleil’s wigs on.
“Y/N, is that you?” A familiar voice broke through your thoughts, interrupting the quiet cloud of tranquility you had surrounded yourself with.
Your ears filled back with the noises of a basketball dribbling against the pavement and young kids playing on the playground, as you tilted your head upwards to meet the eyes of the one who was speaking to you.
“.. Oh. Hey, Kyle.” You smiled gently, taking the mask off and tossing it into a nearby trashcan, deciding to ditch your corny disguise. Even if Eric did find you, there was a pretty low chance that he would try anything to get back with you in front of Kyle. You felt pretty safe. “Hold on.”
You sped-walked over to where Soleil was, taking the tacky wig off of your head and tossing it playfully at her and her friends. Before you could witness her reaction, you quickly sped back to where Kyle stood, giving him a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”
“Were you trying to avoid Cartman?” He laughs, and it was genuinely one of the sweetest sounds you’ve heard in a long time—or, ever. His laugh wasn’t filled with any sort of vitriol or mockery, no, he was actually laughing at your attempts to hide from your now ex-boyfriend. And it felt nice, having a guy laugh at you without a glint of distaste and hate in his eyes.
“Obviously.” You smile back, playfully nudging him as you pull your mask off and toss it into a nearby trash bin. The two of you bickered for a moment, bursting into laughter afterward as you both collapsed down onto the bench you were just sitting on minutes before. “So, why are you out here?”
“My little brother’s playing basketball with his friends, hockey rink was closed.” Kyle answers, jerking his thumb back to point over at one of the guys on the basketball court. The boy he was pointing at was a young, black-haired teen who looked as if he was around Dallas’s age. Soft, light freckles peppered his cheeks like stars filling the voids of space, and he had beady dark eyes that had depths to them like no other.
“Same.” You smiled, pointing over to your brother as he shot a hoop. You quickly realized that the two of your siblings were friends, and a thought struck. If I ever wanted to hang out with him, I could just drag my brother along as an excuse.
You brushed away those thoughts, sighing softly. Those were irrelevant and random, you didn’t like him. You did not have a crush on Kyle Broflovski. You reaffirmed and reaffirmed that thought endlessly until it was etched into your memories. You couldn’t fall for someone new yet. You had just broken up with your now ex-boyfriend.
“You doing alright?” Kyle asks softly, his voice causing your train of thought to come to an immediate halt as you nod and give him a sheepish smile.
“Just processing.” You reply, yawning and stretching your arms out as the rays of sunlight illuminate your skin and give you an ethereal glow. You had been feeling prettier ever since you sent that break-up text, but that was most likely just a placebo effect.
“Yeah, I get it.” The curlyhead shoots you a reassuring smile, shoving his hands into his pockets as the two of you slowly began to walk along the trail. Delicate, beautiful flowers greeted your eyes as you moved along, and the greenery of nature was quite pleasant to lay your eyes upon.
The noises of various cars passing by and the sound of children playing around on the grass faded into the back of your mind as a soft, almost unnoticeable smile graced your lips. For the first time in a while, you felt at peace, as if chaos and despair was no more in your life.
Because you genuinely felt that way.
Yes, it had only been about a day since you ended it off with Eric Cartman. But would it be so wrong to say that you were having the time of your life? Your dad had made your favorite breakfast that morning, your siblings were acting sweeter than usual (of course, it could probably just be the fact that they found out you were now free from Eric’s grasp), and overall, you felt more relaxed and calm.
The soft, chilly Colorado breeze brushed against your cheeks, causing you to shiver and tremble slightly as you sighed and rubbed your hands. I should’ve worn more than just sweatpants and a t-shirt.
Kyle quickly took notice of this as he eyed you in his peripheral, glancing over with worry. “Cold?”
“Yeah.” You nodded sheepishly, averting your eyes from his gaze as you looked down and acted as if rubbing your hands together was the most interesting and entertaining thing in the world.
“Well, you’re only wearing sweats.” He chuckles lightly, but shrugs his jacket off of his shoulders and wraps it around yours, giving you an embrace of comfort and warmth instead of actually hugging you. It’d be very awkward if he did, and still, he was your ex’s best friend! You couldn’t do that, right?
However, the back of your mind attempted to justify such fantasies. Firstly, Eric Cartman was horrible, and it’d be more of a gift to society if you did something remotely bad to him. Secondly, he barely even hugged you when the two of you were dating. You were the one to have to initiate hugs, and even then, he had only hugged back around five times.
Five was a very generous overstatement.
You sighed, your breath carrying away your thoughts as it traveled through the breeze and away from your mind. You should just savor the moment of tranquility and peace, because you knew Eric wouldn’t let up once you both were at school. You had to block his and his mother’s phone number because he couldn’t stop spam-texting and calling you, begging for you to come back to him.
“School’s gonna be miserable for me now.” You chuckle dryly, trying to force out the mental images of Eric and his attempts to get back with you during class. If he does anything like cling to my leg or try to kiss me in front of everyone, I’m gonna kill myse—
“Just.. stay safe, alright?” Kyle just sighs, running a hand through his tousled curls as he yawned and cracked his knuckles. “We know how he is.”
You chuckled, crossing your arms as the two of you descended down the path. “I’m gonna jump out of a window if he tries anything during lunch.”
He laughs softly at your little joke, finding your attempts to lighten the mood quite amusing, yet his eyes were still filled with concern. He tentatively reached out, taking one of your hands into his and squeezing it lightly. “Make sure he doesn’t get to your head.”
…?
A blizzard blanketed the small mountain town of South Park as soft snowflakes flowed down to the ground, giving everything a wintery glow.
Eric Cartman stepped down the chilly streets, tears streaming down his cheeks as he slowly wrapped his blanket tighter around his frame. Did he feel genuine sadness after the breakup? If he was being completely, completely honest, yes. It did hurt. Just a little, not enough to destroy him but enough to sting.
The break-up text was sudden and unexpected, and every asinine statement she had sent him sunk into his veins. It was all her fault, all Y/N L/N. What had he done to deserve this? He was the sweetest, kindest boyfriend to ever grace this earth, and suddenly, she leaves? It was true love, pure endearment, infatuation, wasn’t it?
The way Y/N gazed at him while they were on their dates, the way she protected and took care of him, the way she would relentlessly shield him from ridicule.. and now, she just got up and left? How dare she!
He sighed, the snow crunching underneath his feet as he descended the chilly streets. Cars passing had just assumed that he was aimlessly wandering, taking a walk to calm himself down as they noticed his tear-streaked cheeks, but in reality, he was heading to someone’s house.
Cartman shivers a little, tightening the embrace of the plush blanket as he cursed under his breath and treaded through the treacherous terrain (which was just a feet of snow). He saw the faint lights of a very familiar mansion in the distance, one he knew he could seek asylum in, even if he was trying to seek asylum from his own worries and troubles.
He finds himself at the front door of Tolkien Black’s house, or, rather, mansion, ringing the doorbell and pouting softly as he sobbed.
A few seconds later, footsteps approached the foyer and the door swung open, revealing Tolkien just standing there in sweats and a tank top. A look of pure, unfiltered annoyance sat on his face as he took in the scene.
Cartman was covered in snow, wearing thin pants and a hoodie that could barely protect him from the chills of the Colorado mountains. Cold tears ran down his (probably) frozen cheeks, and an aura of sadness flowed from his consciousness. “Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y/N…”
This words were strained and slurred, voice broken with emotions as his hands tightened their grip on the blanket that was wrapped around his torso. He whimpered softly, a small little pout forming on his dry lips.
Tolkien rolls his eyes, heaving a sigh as he shut the door in his face. He walked away, thinking that Cartman would simply leave, but of course, he repeatedly slammed his finger against the doorbell, hoping that the door would be opened once more.
“What the hell do you want?” Tolkien crossed his arms, ignoring the soft sobs and whimpers of the boy before him.
“Y-Y-Y/N broke up with me…” Cartman sniffled, shivering as his tears fell from his cheeks to the blanket that he covered himself with. He looked up from his feet to meet the other boy’s eyes, ignoring the obvious vexation that was reflected.
“... So?”
“I have nothing now, Tolkien. She was my whole world. My everything. Can- can I just stay here with you, please?” Cartman whimpered, clasping his hands together as he gave him a pleading look.
With each and every passing second, Tolkien became increasingly annoyed with the sheer presence of Cartman alone. It wasn’t his problem that Y/N left, so frankly, why should he care?
“What!? Why!? You still have a house!” Tolkien exclaimed, running a hand through his black hair as he rolled his eyes, his hand latching onto the doorknob and gripping it tightly. He was extremely close to slamming the door shut in his face again.
“I know how you feel now, Tolkien - to be pissed off at the world. To feel completely screwed over by society. I totally get it now. I wanna do what you guys do.. like go disrespect the flag and flip over cars and stuff.”
Tolkien slammed the door shut again, causing some warm air to waft into Cartman’s face. Just as he turned around to go back up to his room, the doorbell rang again. And again. And again. Cartman continuously rang the doorbell, trying to get Tolkien to open the door—which he did. He heaved a sigh and turned back around, answering the door for what he hoped would be the last time.
“Tolkien, pleeease! I'm sorry! I really am! Pleeeeeaaaas-” Cartman whined, a small pout laying on his lips. Snowflakes drifted down to the ground behind him, chills crawling down his spine from the weather he was subjecting himself to. Yes, he could’ve stayed home and let his mother pamper him as he cried, but that was just so not fun.
“Get outta here!” Tolkien groaned, rubbing his eyes in annoyance as he suddenly felt the presence of one of his family members behind him. He tilted his head slightly, seeing his mother, Linda appeared, blinking in confusion at the sight before her. A boy who had also attended SPHS with her son was standing there, sobbing miserably in the snow, while Tolkien just watched and gleamed in the comfort of the warm foyer.
“What’s going on?” She questions, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow as the cold air breezed into her face and brushed against her cheeks.
“... Nothing, mom.” Tolkien sighed, uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands in his pockets as he glared at the shivering boy. Cartman was still on his front porch, holding onto the blanket tightly as he pouted again.
“Y/N broke up with me..” Cartman said, forcing his voice to be more obnoxious than ever. He stretched the end of his sentence out, his words sounding more of like a whine, causing Tolkien to grow even more annoyed.
“Tolkien, he’s freezing.” Linda sighed, turning away from her son. She ignored how Tolkien’s fingers dug into the doorknob; brushing off the sheer anger in his eyes. “Come in.”
…?
Annoyance.
Annoyance was the one word that could perfectly describe how Tolkien really felt in that moment. He felt vexed, like the universe had turned on him and put him into a horrible situation, as revenge for something. Here he was, having a perfectly normal and relaxed evening when all of a sudden, Eric Cartman just had to turn up at his door, crying and sniffling over Heidi, and his mother just had to sympathize and let him inside.
The Black family (and their guest) was inside the dining room, all eating dinner like usual. Linda had prepared soup, and Cartman was grateful for the generous treatment. Somewhat grateful. You could never be certain with someone like him.
Tolkien sighed, and turned his head to look out of the window, admiring the night sky before him. The gorgeous white snowflakes continued to pour from the sky, adding layers upon layers to the soft blanket of snow that gently covered the town. The sight outside was beautiful, streetlights glowing brightly in the dark, cloudy atmosphere that the snowstorm was causing. The warmth of the interior lights of everyone’s homes heavily contrasted the starless, cloudy sky that overlooked the milky-white ground.
“Are you guys almost done with the soup?” Cartman asked, his words cutting through the awkward silence as he looked up from his soup bowl. The peaceful, quiet dinner had now been interrupted due to his words. Hell, dinner wasn’t even peaceful—with him around. He had been quietly sobbing throughout the meal, the heartache beginning to affect other parts of him.
“... Don’t you like it, Eric?” Linda raises an eyebrow.
“Well yeah, no, it's great. It's just- well, what time do you guys usually go out and disrespect the flag and stuff?” He asks, tilting his head.
The three family members all looked at each other in confusion, before Tolkien’s dad, Steve Black, spoke up.
“... What?” Steve asked in bewilderment, his expression filled with genuine disbelief. He lowered his utensils, his mind trying to comprehend what the boy was saying. What the hell is this kid talking about?
Cartman gasped, before beginning to speak once more. “Don’t tell me… did you guys already disrespect the flag and flip over cars? Did I miss it?”
Steve furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, the gears in his brain turning and twisting as he tried to comprehend exactly what Cartman was talking about.
“What the hell are you talking about?!”
There was a brief moment of silence as everyone tried desperately to figure out what the hell Cartman was saying, before Tolkien interjected into the conversation.
“... I told you not to let him in-”
“Please! I don't know what to do with all this anger and hurt!” Cartman whined, rubbing his eyes for dramatic effect. Tolkien rolled his eyes in annoyance, and turned away to look out of the window — admiring the gorgeous white sheet of snow that covered the land around his home.
“I'm sorry your girlfriend broke up with you, Eric, but maybe you'll get back together. Maybe she still loves you.” Linda spoke softly, in an attempt to comfort the poor boy. Her reassuring tone was enough to calm Cartman a bit, yet he still felt feelings of anguish and despair.
“No, no, we've broken up before, but this time it's different. I can tell. Something's changed with her. She won't even answer my phone calls.” Cartman pouted, tuning his voice to a higher pitch for sympathy. Curiosity began to brew up around the two parents, and Steve decided to pry in a little.
“If you don’t mind me asking… who’s your girlfriend?”
Cartman looked up from his now-empty soup bowl, and let out a deep, sad sigh as he began to answer the question. “Y/N..”
“Y/N? Y/N L/N? Like, the L/N’s daughter?” Steve raised an eyebrow, his lips parting slightly as he went lost in thought. He swore he saw that girl with someone while he was driving to the store.. it couldn’t have been her, right? Maybe it was someone else who looked like her. Or maybe she had a twin sister..?
“Yeah..” Cartman sighed again, another wave of sadness hitting him as he answered Steve’s question. He didn’t know why he had been asked that, but it didn’t matter to him. The only thing that mattered was the fact that she was gone. Y/N had left.
“I thought she was with Kyle Broflovski. I saw them holding hands at the park earlier.”
#i always post chapters to tumblr late#okay#erm#julysn#julia’s fics .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚#fanfiction#south park#south park x reader#south park fanfiction#south park x fem reader#south park fanfics#kyle broflovski x reader#kyle brovlofski#kyle broflovski#kyle broflovski headcanons
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Imma need more if president Kai office au, that was hilarious and idc if it’s platonic or romantic
Okay, let's do platonic president Dad Kai and his baby reader. So, I'm seeing baby reader getting into braiding and since she can't do her own her hair because her small chubby hands can't reach that far back, nor does she have a doll that has proper hair to practice on, she goes to her father for help.
You peek into his office and see him working on some papers. Kai sees your small head and he nods at you to come in, pushing away from his desk to let you jump into his lap. "What is it, princess?"
"I- I want to braid your hair! Can I? Please?"
Kai sighs. He's a man in his late 30s, president to the greatest country in the world, and a kid wants to braid his hair-
"Stop moving, dad!" You giggled, gently yanking his head. Kai smiled and leaned his head back for you. He continued working though, one hand writing down some notes while the other held a phone.
"No- no, I can't pass that bill. Why? Because its sexist, Jeff! Oh yeah? You threatening me? Well, you know what? I'm gonna pass that cancelling student loans bill, and now you can answer your billionaire clients about what's it gonna cost them!" Kai slammed the phone down before sighing as your tiny fingers continued playing with his hair. A few minutes later, he heard you let out a frustrated huff.
Kai turned his head towards you. Your brows were furrowed and you were pouting. Utterly adorable. "What's wrong, doll?"
"Your hair's too short to braid!" You complained.
Kai's brows rose. "Oh, um honey sorry- oh. Oh- oh, where are you going?" He watched you hop off the couch and stomp out of the room.
-
A few days passed by and Kai forgot about the whole braiding thing. He had been a little busy with some official duties so he hadn't been able to give time to you. So today, he'd decided to spend some quality time with you. But when he went to your room, he didn't find you there.
He asked one of the maids, who told him that you were in Miruko's (who is Kai's publicist) office. And when Kai went there, he saw Miruko on the floor while you sat on her bed, braiding her hair. Miruko held up a mirror and admired her hairstyle. "Wow, Y/n! You did a really great job!" She hugged you and tickled you a bit. "I feel like a princess!"
-
The very next day, Miruko was sent off to a meeting abroad. Kai's too possessive of you, to jealous for you to give your love and attention to someone else.
After having breakfast with Kai, he saw you getting up. "Where are you running off to?"
"Miruko! Wanna braid her hair."
"Oh, but Miruko is gone. Just for a few days." He saw your face fall. "But if you want, you can braid my hair."
You shook you head. "Its too short."
Kai hummed. "Well, I have an idea for that."
-
You were happily braiding your father's hair. Or- a wig that your dad was wearing. Long, silly black hair, Kai had ordered it a day ago so that you could happily style his hair however you wanted without feeling the need to go to someone else.
He'd brought you out to the garden because you wanted to place flowers in his hair as you braided it. He thought it was a good idea to spend some quality time with you.
Kai did however make one grave mistake.
He forgot about the paparazzi.
Boy were they having a field day snapping pictures of their president wearing a silly wig as the baby of the country played with his hair. Hell, you'd even used some of your own hair accessories.
The newspapers and articles were filled with pictures of you brushing the President's hair with your very small, glittery princess hairbrush. And a few pictures of Kai scowling at the cameras too.
All kinds of headlines were made, especially about Kai's "transition to being a mother", or "does baby Y/n want a mother? MAMA Kai to the rescue!" And so on.
Well all jokes aside, Kai did have a picture of you laughing as you braid his hair, framed in his office.
#yandere kai chisaki#yandere kai#yandere president dad kai#yandere president kai#yandere overhaul x reader#yandere overhaul#yandere bnha#bnha headcanons#yandere mha#bnha imagines
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Pairing: tomura shigaraki x reader
Content: Reader is a streamer, AFAB/female reader, Non con(?), reader is into it, reader has a "perfect" body + not specified eye color skin tone nor hair length and color(?) , readers wearing a medium lengthed pencil skirt, non con(?), Sub reader
Side note: yes, tomura has a finger or two lifted up every time he grips onto something. No asking why I don't bother just putting it in.🤬
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I slightly bite my lower lip angrily at the fact I failed to kill the creeper without it exploding
"Damn it... Now there's a hole in the ground!"
Grabbing the dirt blocks, Not bothering to fill it in and just covered the top in return of chat spamming; "How could you do that?!" "Fill the hole up.." "Cursed."
I scoffed a little confused, "since was not filling up a creeper explosion cursed..?"
I notice a chat, with the same user I always see in almost every livestream I do and repost videos of my livestreams. "It wasn't cursed ever."
I found it a little cute, Having a long term fan always coming onto my streams.. "Thanks for agreeing, AFORP" I always noticed that user even though the chats were honestly a bit fast at updating.
After a few minutes in the livestream.. Almost finished building your minecraft base and a mob spawner farm.
[ AFORP has donated 270 ---- ]
Do you love me?
I listened to the text to speech while half focused on the game, "Sure I do." I replied barely really caring at all not noticing who even donated...as the chat spammed wtfs or stuff like did you get a boyfriend.
After a while, I decide to end the stream after 2 and a half hours. Finally getting to stretch and fall into my warm mattress grabbing my phone. I noticed I was starting to run low on cash and desperately needed to pay a LOT of bills...
Boldly deciding to start an onlyfans, Setting it up overnight before getting some sleep and continuing in the morning...
...
I post the pictures embarrassingly, in hope of getting some cash. Desperate times are desperate needs.
Surprisingly, and shockingly. The first one to comment on the video about my recently updated bio with the OF link was AFORP..
"God you look so fuckin' pretty.. Just wann' rip you apart so bad." I read, Taking it as sarcasm replying to his comment; "Do it." Thinking he wouldn't...
Oh you were so wrong and in for one hell of a ride of your life.
...
..
. (switching to 3rd person pov)
..
...
Your legs were spread apart as his legs were between them, with your hands completely being pushed down against the mattress with his open palms lifting some fingers up making sure to not decay the bed,
As your wildly jackhammering your legs panicking since you're very much aware of the fact he's the one of the infamous notorious villains, He takes his hands away from yours to scratch his neck with one of his.
"Weren't you the one who told me to do this? Why are you so afraid now?" You backed up in the corner of your bed completely terrified for your life.
As he just practically climbed on the bed, Heading towards you. "E ...—eek! What do you want from me?!" You yelled out squirming closing your eyes, knees into your face ready to brace any pain
"Are you fuckin' stupid? A lil' disappointin for my favorite streamer who was apparently fearless to be afraid of me." He grabbed your hand, Forcing you to lay down on your back having him hover over you. You took a bit processing what he meant..
"are you AFORP...? suddenly I'm not so scared of you.." Your eyes looked into his, Confusingly having the most notorious villain wrapped around your finger.
"You should be cause I'm gonna fuck your brains out till you cry and beg." He flips you over having you lay on your chest this time, Grabbing onto your hair yanking it so hard as if hes trying to find out if you're wearing a wig..
"Wh...–what the fucck– stop! Stop! that hurts!!" You cry out already telling him to stop, "How about you be an obedient little slut? Can't believe you're already begging when I only just yanked on your hair."
Slapping your clothed cunt, Having you yelp at his action... As he works his zipper down, shortly before lifting up your skirt and folding it to get a better view of your ass.
"God you look so fuckin' perfect with those laced panties, How about you spread your legs a bit wider?" He lets go of your hair, Making you almost just fall onto the mattress face flat... Luckily you got on your arms.. But.
At this point, you just give in and obey him spreading your legs a bit wide open, if you knew he could practically just kill you within 5 seconds if you disobeyed would you still try to rebel against him? No. exactly.
You look behind you to look at what he's even doing.. "Well If I'm your favorite streamer do you mind going gentle atleast.." He scoffed, "Sure, whatever. That's the least best thing I could probably do for you." He enters slowly, but fuck he was still so fucking rough and painful.
"W—wait don't you have a condom..? What if you'll get me pregnant I don't want to be known as the most infamous villains wife or whatever..." He takes a hand to his neck, Scratching it annoyingly.. "I know what I'm doing. I won't cum inside, happy? Now stop fuckin' talking before I might hurt your dumbass."
You could feel every hot, rough inch and veins of him inside of you. God he was pretty ugly from far away but you had to admit he was a lot hotter in this time close up.. I guess he grew up a little bit. And his hair is longer– wait why do you care about that? Anyway continuing...
sloppily thrusting inside of you, hitting your g-spot every single thrust... Shortly moving onto a quicker rough pace with you squirming against his length..
A few fingers slide down near your velvet lines, rubbing his fingers against your cute little bead "Godd you're so wet, I bet you were hoping for something like this to happen. Just...heelplesssly wat–tching me ...—po..-und you like a whoor...re" Although you desperately tried to cover your mouth with the palm of your hand, low soft moans escaped your lips..
"f.... –fuck..Mmngh, Aa..Ah! ssh —..hiit.." You whimpered, squirming and shaking badly under his touch, A streamer who was apparently fearless ruined in around 4 minutes..
His length abusing your cunt, as a finger rubs against your clit in circular motions consistently after sliding it up and down..
You were already about to have your 2nd orgasm, feeling the same knot in your stomach about to rip as tears dripped down onto the bed sheets accompanied with drool
You could feel him shortly pulling out, releasing it all over your back as you just collapsed exhaustedly..
"Don't worry, I won't just leave you here. I guess I'll help clean you up... Didn't get you to beg at all but whatever" But he ended up doing it only after a few minutes of playing around with your chest and a 2 minute break...
...
You wake up to be alone, with a completely different set of clothes and snacks on your desk.. Confused about what happened. (yea you barely remember anything 🫡)
#shigaraki smut#tomura smut#bnha shigaraki#female reader#tomura shiragaki#tomura x reader#shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura shigaraki x reader smut#tomura shigaraki smut
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won't find out until we grow (percabeth drabble)
i don't care that it's not halloween. shut up and let me be me
"Are you ready yet? Hurry up!"
Annabeth turned back to the mirror, satisfied with the precision of her eyeliner and dabbing a few final touches underneath. Everyone claimed girls took forever to get ready, but whoever had originally said that clearly hadn't met Percy, who had been in the bedroom for far too long. They were going to be late if they didn't leave in the next ten minutes, and the last time they were late, they'd endured hours of ridicule from their idiot friends, speculating on the reasons why.
Percy's voice emerged from behind the door, sounding extremely perturbed. "Annabeth... what is this?"
"Your costume!" She shouted back. "Come on, put it on already!"
"It's so ugly. This pattern is making my eyes bleed."
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, fashionista. This is what people wore before they had Thrasher hoodies and sweatpants, alright?"
It went quiet; presumably, he knew she'd won, and had given up and started getting dressed. She stepped back to get a better view of herself in the mirror, smoothing out her long, dark hair so it lay flat. Then Percy spoke up again, this time even less certain than before.
"...Even the mustache?"
"Especially the mustache," She insisted, double checking her purse. "No one will know who you are without it."
"I don't even know who this is!"
"He was big in the seventies!" She called out. "Now come on!"
He paused. "Is that... tell me that's not a wig."
Annabeth grinned, glad he couldn't see her. "Well, I didn't think you'd be up for growing your hair out. I'm wearing one too, what's the big deal?"
"The big deal is, you look stunning and I look like I should be in jail."
She stifled her laugh behind her fist. "Then it's right. Look, we have to nail this because I am not losing this costume contest to Hazel for the second year in a row. Piper let me know what she's doing, and we don't have a chance in hell unless we commit."
Percy went quiet. "What's she doing?"
"Annie."
"Fuck it," She heard him curse from the other room, "She's capitalising on how cute she is. She's an evil genius. Okay, I'll do it. We have to beat her."
"Thank you." Annabeth shot a quick text into the groupchat, letting everyone know they'd be leaving shortly. "And hey, if you're up for karaoke, we can score extra points with this one duet. Just trust me."
"I always trust you," He grumbled, "That's the problem. Alright. Don't laugh."
The bedroom door swung open. Annabeth bit her lip, hard.
It was better than she'd expected. The bell bottoms, the garish shirt, the pageboy haircut and fake mustache, and better still, Percy's unimpressed expression. A lesser person would've been intimidated, but Annabeth knew better than to buy into his looks - the fact that she'd gotten him into the costume in the first place was proof enough that he couldn't fight her on it.
He joined her by the mirror, sulking even as he wrapped an arm around her exposed waist. She beamed and posed, appraising them as a couple. True to character, almost her entire midriff was bare, with bright colours and stripes leading down to flared trousers that made her legs look a mile long. The long, dark, straight wig was the exact opposite of her natural hair, which she'd braided back and tucked into a low bun as best as she could, but she kinda liked it. The retro makeup she'd been practising certainly helped, and sure, she'd got the better end of the deal - Cher had been a fashion icon ever since she'd walked into Studio City - but in her opinion, Percy made an excellent Sonny.
"Well?"
Percy blinked. "The longer I look, the more I start to like it. Get me away from this mirror."
She laughed. "We look amazing! We have to take a pic for your mom."
"What? No." Percy looked horrified.
"I already promised! Look, smile!"
---
"Alright, alright," Percy's voice echoed through the room, the cheap micropphone giving it a tinny, muffled quality. "You guys are all sadists for enjoying this, so as a thank you for voting me and Annabeth the best costume of the night, we are now going to assault your ears with the cheesiest duet known to man."
"THAT'S MY BOY!" Jason yelled.
"YEAH, GET IT PERCY!" Frank added.
He slipped an arm around Annabeth's waist. "You know, Paul loves this song."
She kissed his cheek. "I know. Piper's recording it for him."
Percy blanched. "What? No!"
"Too late!" Annabeth beamed. "They say we're young and we don't know..."
#enjoy xoxo#my writing#percabeth#couldn't get this idea out of my head. it's just so me#also my dream costume idc
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It Happened One Mission
For @hanleiacelebration
Prompt: Anniversary
His legs were longer and could usually outrun her. But it had been crazy getting out then through the terminal and it was easier for her to dart around things. He lost sight of her a couple times but then she’d pop up a few feet away. It pissed him off a bit that she never seemed too concerned about keeping an eye on him but that was the Princess. She only had eyes for the Rebellion.
Han watched Leia dash inside the small transport then almost tripped over an old woman struggling with her bag. He somehow managed to not fall down, or knock the woman over, or swear too loudly at her. She was flustered, rattling on about getting to her daughter’s, the wheels on her bag were broken, she was going to miss her transport.
“Where?” He was shouting, which he knew probably wouldn’t help but the station was busy and he didn’t have much time.
“Where is my daughter?” The old lady looked around her and Han wondered if this was a dementia thing. “She’s on Capra. That’s where I’m going.”
“Your transport! Where’s your damn transport?”
She pointed to the ship maybe fifty feet away. Han grabbed the woman’s bag and ran inside. He shoved the bag on the luggage rack above an empty seat then raced back out. He heard a faint thank you but didn’t look back. He slid inside his own transport just as the doors closed and locked behind him.
Han took a few seconds to collect himself. Catch his breath. The car was crowded and loud and all seemed to know each other. They were talking, yelling across the seats, already sharing snacks and drinks, and taking up too damn much space in Han’s opinion.
He looked around but didn’t spot her right away. She was too short to be seen over the high seats anyway and likely tucked low to stay hidden. He moved down the aisle, keeping an eye out for her short wig and hat that she insisted on calling a bonnet just to bug him.
She’d been getting on his nerves non-stop this mission. It was supposed to be a quick job, in and out, but she kept coming up with detours. She told him he could mind his own business, find a card game or cheap cantina to entertain himself, but she had things to do. She wanted to see the training facility for herself, get some holos, and that led them to the vehicle pool. It was his idea to talk to the mechanics and that got them to the distribution centre where everything went to hell. They got out without too much blaster fire and only a few guards on their tail but it was one more time his life ended up on the line for some holos and a datachip. The pay, if there was any, was shit and there was definitely no glory. The Princess barely said thank you most of the time. Acted like he was the one who owed her something.
Two women, looked like a mother and daughter, were turned around in their seats with arms crossed on top. They were both talking and laughing and reminded Han of an advert. Probably selling insurance or housewares. Some over-the-top display of what a happy family was supposed to look like.
“This isn’t even all of us!” The mother’s voice carried over the rest of the noise which was kind of remarkable. “I have two brothers and their families coming in from Westlin.”
“And plenty we aren’t actually related to.” The daughter wasn’t as loud but just as enthusiastic. “They’ve collected a lot of people over the years.”
Han would’ve walked right past if she hadn’t answered them.
“I almost wish I could come with you. It sounds like a wonderful reunion.”
Leia wasn’t wearing the hat anymore, probably shoved in her bag, and had on a different jacket. She was sitting forward, practically on the edge of her seat. Her cheeks were still lightly flushed from their run. The adrenaline rush of making it out with all their info intact.
He plopped down in the seat beside her and expected to see a scowl. She’d been pissed at him for taking the nearest—and best option in that moment—exit out of the control room and setting off an alarm. Called him every insult she could muster while racing down the stairs. Said she was done with his idiotic schemes. But when she turned to look at him as he sat down, her eyes were bright. He might have said she looked happy if he didn’t know better.
“You made it. Thought I’d finally lost you for good.”
It was a jab but she was smiling.
“Gabbi, do you have the tickets?” A man called from across the aisle. He was rummaging through a bag and looking stressed.
“Duty calls.” The mother laughed and turned away. “Yes, husband dear. Everything is in order.”
More people got involved in the discussion. It was bizarre. Jokes and comments came all over. Everyone seemed to know the husband would have a moment of panic and Gabbi would have it all under control. Even the husband was laughing. Didn’t mind the ribbing. Agreed that he shouldn’t have doubted his wife’s organizational skills. Han tried to take it all in. Who the hell were these people?
“It’s their sixtieth wedding anniversary.”
He turned to Leia and she snickered at his obvious look of confusion. She leaned forward, over his lap, and pointed a few rows ahead.
“Up there.” The only thing visible was an elbow on an arm rest. “Gabbi’s parents. They are all going to Bercolt because that’s where they got married. All the kids, grandkids, friends.”
Leia sat back in her seat, resting her hands in her lap.
“Sounds exhausting.” He leaned back, resting his head against the seat. This flight already felt too long.
“Does everything have to be a problem with you?” She sounded frustrated. “Is it so hard to believe that a group of people like each other and want to spend time together?”
“Yeah.” He looked at her with full sneer disguised as a smile. “Fifty says there’s a fight before we land. Hundred it’s a fist fight.”
“You’re on.” She held out a hand to shake on it. She didn’t normally accept his bets so he was a little thrown off. “I will expect payment in full when we arrive.”
“Sure, sister.” He shook her hand. “Don’t worry. I pay my debts faster than your accountants.”
“Hmmm.” She raised an eyebrow. “I know of at least one Hutt who might disagree with that statement.”
The announcement to buckle in as the transport made the jump to lightspeed prevented him from responding but that was just as well. He couldn’t really argue with her point about Jabba.
They had a few hours flight and Han realized he didn’t have much to keep him occupied. Just sitting wasn’t going to cut it.
He felt the exhaustion catching up with him. They should’ve been on the Falcon but the stabilizers started acting up so they landed on Bercolt for repairs. Leia was furious. She ranted about his hunk of junk bucket of bolts ship and why did she ever think the Falcon would get the job done. Han was just as mad—at his damn ship for falling apart again—cos it felt like she was actually saying he was the one letting her down when he was doing every damn thing in his power to help—and spent as much time yelling as he did on repairs. When he and Chewie finally admitted they needed a new part, Leia announced she would take the transport on her own. That brought on more arguing but they ended up on the transport together. He was too wired, too aware that anything could go wrong, to get any sleep on that leg. Leia, however, conked out almost as soon as they hit hyperspace. Her head resting against his shoulder almost the entire way.
It was the opposite now. She was talking to Gabbi and her daughter but Han didn’t catch much of the conversation. Something about Gabbi’s parents running a dry goods shop that didn’t hold Han’s interest. He was lazily staring at her jacket. Finally noticed she hadn’t change jackets but turned hers inside out. Smart. Probably had that worked out earlier. Knew it was an option. Leia liked to know the options. Knew how to think on her feet. And looked good doing it. The jacket looked good on her. The exposed lining. It was a light blue and looked soft. So soft. Probably as soft as something. There was something he couldn’t quite name. Tip on his tongue.
“Honey cake?”
Han’s eyes shot open and he was set to knock the guy down if Leia didn’t grab his arm. The man leaning over Han was a lot older than Gabbi’s husband, probably in his eighties. He held out the container with honey cake, urging Leia to take a piece.
“My wife makes it. The best you’ll ever try.”
“Thank you.” Leia was cheery as she took some. Gave Han a quick nod to take his own. “It smells delicious.”
Han shook his head. First at Leia then the old man. He knew his eyes were probably a bit too wide but he’d been in a deep sleep only seconds earlier. This was a lot to take in all at once if he was expected to sit still and not rush at this man to get him the fuck away. Han didn’t like anyone standing so close.
The man walked off and Han turned back to Leia when he felt her move beside him. She rearranged herself in the seat, pulling her legs up and folding them beneath her. She cradled the cake in one hand.
“You were snoring.” She let out a soft laugh. “You look like you slept next to a magnet.”
He ran a hand over his head, thinking for some reason she meant his hair. He blinked a few times hoping to clear things up.
“How long was I out?” His voice was sounding rough.
“Maybe two hours.”
She broke off a piece of cake and put it in her mouth, careful not to lose a crumb. She always ate like that. Didn’t want anything to go to waste. Even when they were in the field and surviving on ration bars and meal replacement boxes. Slow and methodical. He watched her mouth for a few too many seconds.
“You missed a lot of juicy stuff. Gabbi and Harlon, that’s her daughter.” Leia nodded toward the seats in front of them. “They told me all about redecorating Harlon’s daughter’s room. Ruthy. That’s the daughter. Granddaughter. She’s sitting a few rows back with her father. All the cousins wanted to sit together so the fathers are back there pretending to keep watch. That’s how Gabbi described it. Pretending. Ruthy came up here a few times. She’s maybe seven and very cute.”
How or why was Leia still so energized? Didn’t she have a report to write? Plan some mission that would eventually get him killed?
“Why are you in such a good mood?”
Leia’s face fell very briefly but she put another piece of cake in her mouth and shrugged.
“Why do you insist on being such an ass?”
What the hell did that mean? She’d been tense before. Upset. Worried about the
mission than pissed when they ran into trouble. He was checking in on her and she snapped at him.
“Guess some people just bring it out in me.”
That got the reaction he was after though it wasn’t as satisfying as he hoped. She spun in her seat to face forward dropping her feet to the floor. She took a few obvious and deep breaths. Han waited for the comeback. The back and forth that fueled most of their interactions.
“I’m not falling for this time.” Leia put her hands in her lap again. “What about being surrounded by a happy, multi-generational family celebrating love and sharing honey-cake could put you in such a foul mood?”
“Never trust a happy crowd. All this talking and moving around is distraction. You should be checking your pockets instead of giving me a hard time.”
“I am not giving you a hard time.” She narrowed her eyes at him when she realized she almost took the bait. “No one in this car is a thief. Other than you, of course.”
“What the hell you done with the Princess? Two years straight, all I hear from you is the Rebellion. It’s the only thing that matters, all you want to think about, the only thing worth your time. Now suddenly it’s all baked goods and true love?”
“First of all, you know better than anyone that I do on occasion think about other things.”
A corner of her mouth went up in a half-smile and he felt caught. Yeah, he knew she had plenty else to say when she wanted but admitting that wasn’t going to help him make his point. He was losing sight of that point but felt certain he had one.
“It was a good day.” She turned in her seat. Rested her head against the seat while looking at him. “Things veered a bit off course but we got more than we anticipated. Information we can use. Information we desperately need. Take the day as a win, Han. It might be awhile before the next one.”
He felt wide awake. Ready for something. Another thing he couldn’t name.
“Do you know what you need?” She sat up again and Han knew he should probably be nervous. Alarm bells should be going off. “You need to learn more about Ruthy’s sticker collection.”
She leaned over him and called for Ruthy.
“More? Do I know anything about Ruthy’s sticker collection?”
“Trust me.” Leia was still leaning over him, waving down the aisle. “Once you know anything about the collection, you’ll never forget it.”
Han felt almost paralyzed at first and it didn’t help that Leia couldn’t stop laughing beside him. Ruthy stood in the aisle and rested the book on his lap. She went through every page and described every sticker in detail. It was a blur of names and storylines and superpowers he didn’t understand until he started asking questions. It still didn’t quite make sense after that but it was a hell of a lot more fun.
Ruthy’s stickers led to her older brother coming by to talk sports and his favourite team. Their little brother was, well, Han had no idea how old he was other than young. Not great at walking and didn’t say much. Gabbi spent a lot of time watching him. Called him her little bantha bear, which made no sense but Han could see the appeal.
Leia asked everyone questions. She might’ve been working recruitment but he was pretty sure she was just curious. She wanted to learn everything about these people in the time they had. She laughed at their stories. Listened and absorbed and stored them all.
Han looked up when he heard a loud clearing of a throat. The old man stood at the front and raised both his arms. Han watched as the man waited until everyone, including the non-family members in the car, quieted down and looked at him. There were a couple of giggles and someone clapped. Han exchanged a quick glance with Leia. She looked more curious than his perplexed.
“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do.” The man’s singing voice was full and strong. Rich. “I'm half-crazy all for the love of you.”
Someone clapped and someone else let out a whoop.
“It won't be a stylish marriage. I can't afford a carriage.” He stretched his arms out wide and looked down at his wife. “But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a speeder bike built for two.”
The entire car burst into applause. Han looked over at Leia, sitting on the edge of her seat again and clapping. She was tearing up but looked happy.
“We will go tandem as man and wife.” The man helped his wife stand then draped an arm over her shoulder. “Peddling away down the road of life.”
Han didn’t exactly know what to do. He’d been in plenty of cantinas when beings started singing, usually very drunk and likely right before a brawl broke out. He wasn’t sure how he should react and if he should find cover for him and Leia in case things got messy. The old man continued to sing while he and his wife swayed. She rested a hand on his chest and laughed.
When the verse was done, Han turned back to Leia with a what the fuck just happened look but then a dozen people or more started singing the chorus. Back to Daisy and the speeder bike built for two. This time, everyone was swaying in their seats, including Leia.
A different guy, maybe a few years younger than Han, stood up. He was sitting far back in the car and Han thought he was with a different group but it was hard to tell. He jumped right into the next verse. Something about dark roads and bright lights in the dazzling eyes. That was the only part of the song that Han really understood. The young guy finished up, there was more cheering, then the chorus. More people were singing, filling the space with dozens of voices.
“How does everyone know this song?” Han stretched around his seat to look behind him. It was verging on rowdy but there was no brawl in sight. This was obviously something the family did often enough, including roping in strangers. He turned back to Leia. “You know this song?”
She could’ve rolled her eyes and said, Of course. Made a crack about everyone knowing this song. But instead she smiled and tilted her head. She nodded a few times and laughed, and when the chorus started up again she sang along.
Everyone was in on it now. He knew if he scanned the car, the old man would be at the front with his wife, her hand still on his chest, both of them swaying. Gabbi would be holding her grandson. Her husband would be standing at his seat, waving his arms like a conductor. But Han didn’t look around, didn’t scan the car. He kept his eyes locked on Leia.
There were still tears, welling up but refusing to drop. Her cheeks were getting that rosy tinge again. Not from running or adrenaline but taking in everything thing in the room. The happiness these people felt being together. And then he felt it. It was coming from her not the room. He wasn’t going to call it happiness cos that seemed like a leap and joy wasn’t a thing he acknowledged but he did wonder for a second what a bursting heart might feel like.
“You'll take the lead in each trip we take.”
Her voice was unexpected. Rich and full and haunting. Leia speaking could drive him mental, in good and bad ways, and he’d imagined sounds she might make in bed more than a few times. Singing, though. Her singing voice could crack a guy wide open. It felt like an invitation. A promise. The unimaginable.
“Then if I don't do well, I will permit you to use the brake.”
Her hand brushed against his. He moved his fingers to wrap around hers but she pulled away too quickly.
“My beautiful little Daisy Bell.”
Leia’s face went bright red as everyone cheered. Han clapped along with them. Whistled a few times and called out, “Nice, Sweetheart!” She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment and collapsed against the back of her seat as the crowd sang the final round of the chorus.
She didn’t sing along. The almost-tears were gone and her blush was starting to fade. Han twisted in his seat so he was facing her, shielding her from view. He reached out and pushed the bangs back, repositioning her wig that was slightly askew. She didn’t dart away when his fingers gently caressed her temple.
The song was done and Han could hear laughter, one of the kids let out a happy shriek, chatter as everyone settled back down. Leia sat up straighter and cleared her throat. She was trying to restore order. Probably planned on getting back to preparing her report and making plans for when they landed on Bercolt. Han chuckled and she raised an eyebrow, wondering what he thought was so funny.
He knew better than to admit what was on his mind. He shrugged instead. Repositioned himself in his seat. Gave her a bit of space so they could continue to enjoy this moment. Each other.
She could go back to her work and plans. Slip back into their arguments and insults. Do whatever she thought was needed to return to the normal they’d been living for two years. It was all fine with Han cos he knew the truth. There was no going back after this one.
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49340953
#hanleiaweek2023#hanleiacelebration#star wars fanfic#star wars fanfiction#day 1: anniversary#it happened one night#more info on ao3#terrible at titles#was going to write a song for a sing-a-long#i am NOT a songwriter#everythingisanexperiment#hanleia#han x leia
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Gossip Girl, Ep.2x09 – I Know What You Did Last Summit (Spoilers)
This post is going to be a little different then the other ones I have put out for this season. For the first 30 minutes or so, I honestly didn’t think I was really going to post much on this episode because it seemed like we we’re rehashing the last two episodes. Also, ENOUGH WITH ALL THE PLOTS ENDING AT ONE EVENT! However, the last 15 minutes sets up quite a few things going into the finale.
I would just skip to the last 15 minutes, but there are things that happen in the episode that need to be addressed before we get to that. However, I won’t really be breaking down each storyline as much. Just the things that are important to the third act.
Obie is in the hospital after his beat down. His sister comes to see him. We find out it was his sister who paid some guys to beat him up and film it. Then, she had them send the film to GG. Why? To get mommy dearest back into the country. And it works. Obie tells GG to send out the info.
But GG can’t. See, as this was going on, Monet’s father has issued an ultimatum to GG; stop posting or I’ll give the first person who gives me your name a million dollars. Now, the show almost makes it seem like he’s doing this because he felt bad for his daughter; but it’s ultimately a red herring.
Kate goes to Camille under the guise that she’s worried about Monet’s grades. And, long story short, Kate is invited to this weekend summit in order to tutor Monet; because how else are we getting Kate there? She’s also told by Camille that Camille doesn’t agree with her husband’s bounty. Later that night GG tries to get Camille to get rid of the bounty. Camille says she has information on her husband that would force him to stop; but she won’t send it to GG. If GG wants it, she’ll have to get it in person. GG, naturally, refuses; but Camille says she’ll have an invite ready for her at the summit. She just has to pick it up at the front desk. However, afterwards, we see that Camille and her husband are trying to trick GG into revealing herself. Also, Monet’s listening to the conversation.
We also find out that Nick has decided to stop working for the De Haan’s. In fact, he’s just rented some office space in order to start his own practice.
And then we have the rest of the crew. Julien is still trying to stop GG and get Audrey to talk to her. Meanwhile, Max accidentally told Audrey and Aki that he loves them; which shocks the hell out of everyone that he’s the one to say it first and so they don’t respond. Which makes Max think there’s something wrong. At the same time, Julien has…you know what? I don’t even understand how Julien could even think this was a good idea and wouldn’t turn everyone against her. Julien learned from Zoya last episode about the girl who kissed Aki and this episode she learned about what Max said from Luna. She sets it up for Audrey and Aki to go to a hotel thinking the were meeting Max, but instead the girl is there. Who has the audacity to make it sound like Aki kissed her, when it was the other way around. Someone comes in and takes a picture and runs away. The plan, I guess, was to send this to GG to make it look like Aki and Audrey were cheating on Max or I don’t know where this is going. In the end, everyone besides Max (Who’s currently turning down advances from Obie’s sister) and Obie confront Julien and make it clear that she needs to stay away from them.
Well, almost everyone. Monet tells Julien that she knows her mother is planning on finding out who GG is. Monet wants Julien to tail her mother at the summit and find out who she meets so they can expose GG themselves. And I have to wonder, that horrendous wig Julien wears…are they making fun of the horrible blond wig they kept putting on Veronica Lodge in Riverdale whenever Veronica “went under cover;” because they have mentioned the show before and it just seems like....
So, let’s get to the last 15 minutes. Jordan has shown Kate a way to be able to…she Zooms Camille without a camera and uses a device to disguise her voice (because this is something Kate clearly couldn’t have come up with herself). Long story short, Kate gets Camille (or, at least, she thinks she got Camille) to accidentally reveal that the information is on a USB drive with a trusted employee at the party. Kate, knowing Nick is there, hangs up on Camille and is able to get the USB without Nick knowing. And, of course, nobody sees her do it (except Camille saw her with the bag, so…). At which point, GG goes on a tear.
First, she posts that Mr. De Haan is guilty of illegally busting unions. Then, she releases the information that Obie’s mother knew about the soil under the condos before the condos were built. Finally, even though she has no reason to do so other than we need more drama, she posts that Aki cheated on the thruple and Audrey knew about it; but they didn’t tell Max (how does she even know they didn’t?).
So, at the end of the episode, Max is just done with Aki and Audrey as he doesn’t know where he stands with them. That he’s pretty much the third wheel. Which…honestly, this may have worked at the beginning of the season, but Max hasn’t really be the third wheel; Aki has. Anyway, Max leaves the summit and it looks like he’s going to hook up with Obie’s sister.
Aki, on the other hand, finally looses his cool (in the most calm and supportive way possible) and calls Julien out. He basically tells her that she’s exactly like GG and the reason why GG bothers her so much is because GG reminds Julien of how she used to treat her friends and it makes her feel guilty. But he also makes it clear to Audrey that they are also to blame as they never made Max aware of how they felt.
While that’s going on, Obie and his mother have left the summit. Obie’s mother tells him the FBI are waiting and she’s going to make sure that they believe he and his sister knew nothing about this. Obie says if his mom wants he and his sister to comply with the FBI, that they would. Obie’s mother tells him that his sister won’t be involved at all. It’s at this point Obie finds out that the condos were his sister’s project and the mother had covered everything up in order to protect her. Honestly, I’m not too surprised by this. I figured that, if there was going to be a twist, it would most likely be that the sister would be involved with the project. And, let’s face it, she had the shit kicked out of her brother in order to get the mother back into the country; not the most moral person in the world.
But the worst thing that happens is when Mr. De Haan calls a press conference and announces that it was Nick who illegally busted unions (I’m guessing the documents were doctored). And why did they choose Nick to sacrifice? Because Mr. De Haan knew Nick was about to open his own legal practice. Now, it’s quite possible that Nick’s career is ruined and it’s...well it’s not all Kate’s fault as the De Haan’s were the one to set him up; but Kate is also to blame.
Of course, Kate contacts Camille as GG and accuses her Camille of using her. Camille acknowledges that was true and, what’s more, she knows no one came for that guest pass. Meaning, Camille has narrowed GG down to one of a hundred people.
But a couple of good things come from this. First of all, Monet has the realization that her parents are kind of shitty people and maybe she doesn’t want to be like them. Because of this, she texts Julien and let her know exactly what her parents had done.
Second, Julien actually does seem to realize she helped cause this mess. Although taking blame for the Nick situation is a bit of a stretch. Still, Julien decides to not pursue this anymore. However, Zoya makes it clear that it wasn’t that Julien was wrong to go after GG; it was how she was doing it. But now, Zoya is going to help Julien take GG down.
#gossip girl#gossip girl spoilers#julien calloway#zoya lott#audrey hope#max wolfe#monet de haan#camille de haan#kate ketter#aki menzies#luna la#obie bergmann iv#nick lott
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I haven’t played the demo yet but these two have my favourite designs ;u;
(The kickstarter for Women of Xal by @projecttrinity still has stretch goals to reach!! and you can help greenlight it for steam!!!)
#women of xal#wox#axay#axay quinn#naxia#naxia vexis#my art#edit: thank you!! updated the tags ;u;#this screen has once again eaten the saturation but hopefully just for me#*tries not to think about all the mistakes I made and get on with my life*#but that's how it goes the first time you draw anything right???#actually have I been remembering this tag at all#first time drawing#come to think of it these are... relatively simple outfits#I could cOSPLAY THEM#hell there are a few of them I could do without even wearing a wig#and merixa has glasses which would make it even easier#hYPE TRAIN
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Bernard Figures It Out
Was reading through all the comments on @frostbittenbucky's post and all I could think of was that it was Bernard talking to Tim. Then I got to thinking...
"I've connected the two dots."
"You didn't connect shit."
"I've connected them."
Bernard figures out Tim's a superhero... sort of.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tim fidgetted nervously as he waited on the front porch of his boyfriend’s house. Bernard had sounded so serious when he’d called during Tim’s lunch to ask him to come over after work so they could talk about something.
Which Tim had done, after spending an entire board meeting just going over the past week trying to figure out what he’d done.
The only thing he could think of was that he’d ducked out halfway through their lunch date on Wednesday to give Duke some backup, but Bernard had seemed understanding when Tim explained there was an emergency at GRC Labs. It couldn’t have been a tipping point, either, since Tim had managed to only flake on three other dates over the past few months they’d been dating. Kate had been happy to cover for him as often as she could “out of queer solidarity” when she found out Tim was dating a boy for the first time and Tim had managed to trick Bruce into covering a few actual Wayne Enterprises emergencies for him when they came up.
There had to be a reason Bernard was breaking up with him, though. Had he missed something? He definitely wasn’t forgetting an important day. He was good with days and Tam was even better, so she would have reminded him on the off chance that he had forgotten.
What was he missing?
Bernard was smiling when he opened the door, but there was a nervous energy to it that had Tim’s stomach sinking. “Hey, Tim.”
“Hey.” Tim gave his own nervous smile then slipped inside.
They went into the living room and sat down on the couch.
Tim frowned when Bernard grabbed a manila folder off the coffee table. Crud, had he screwed up enough that Bernard had had to make a list? He knew he was new to dating a guy, but he hadn’t thought he’d done that bad. He’d really been trying, especially with how his and Stephanie’s relationship had fallen apart at the end. “What -”
“Just let me speak, Tim,” Bernard said, waiting for Tim’s nod. “Okay, so you know Clark Kent, right?”
Tim blinked as Bernard opened the folder to show a picture of Clark. It looked like one of the employee pictures from the Planet’s website, with his dorky “I’m just a humble country boy” smile and the golden globe from their roof photoshopped in as the background. “Uh, yeah? I think so. He works for the Daily Planet, right? I think he’s worked at a few of Bruce’s events. Not a lot of outside reporters are willing to come to Gotham.”
“Exactly!” Bernard said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Tim.
“What?”
He pulled out the picture to show the next page was an article titled, “DAILY PLANET REPORTER… BATMAN!?”
A wave of relief washed over Tim and he placed his face in his hands. “Were you up all night on the hero conspiracy boards again?”
“No. I mean, I found this on a board and was up all night thinking about it, but I found it reasonably early.”
“One in the morning isn’t reasonable, Bernard.”
“Says the guy who’s always wide awake when I call to infodump.”
“Touché.” Tim leaned against Bernard and gave him a smile. “So tell me, why is some reporter from Metropolis from all places Batman.”
“First of all, living in Metropolis is the perfect cover. Everyone assumes Batman would live in Gotham, no one would consider he could be from anywhere else. Metropolis is outside the GMA, but close enough that the commute is still possible.”
“But it’s Metropolis.”
“And who would think Gotham’s Dark Knight lives in the sunshine capital? Plus, I hear he disappears a lot on the job. There’s gotta be a reason for it!”
Tim made a note to let Clark know he needs to cut back on the disappearing act some since people are catching on.
“And have you seen the guy? He is swol AF, babe.”
“Please don’t call me babe while you’re talking about how hot another guy is.” Especially Tim’s honorary uncle.
“You know I prefer twinks.”
“BERNARD!”
“I’m just saying,” he continued, ignoring Tim’s shout. “The guy is definitely hiding something! Besides, Kent is an investigative reporter. He’s gotta know a lot about cases and the underground and detective work.”
Not as much as he likes people to think, but more than he likes people to know Superman does, Tim mused. “But what about the other vigilantes?”
“Well, Kent has a cousin…” Bernard flipped through a folder and pulled out a picture of Kara. It looked like a screenshot of her interviewing Lena for CatCo. “She’s obviously the latest Batgirl. Look at her hair. And the first Batgirl and the current Batwoman were obviously Lois Lane, the red hair is just a wig. Did you see how she kicked butt at that last event she went to? She’s not as subtle as Kent. That means their son is the latest Robin. He’s exactly the right size.”
Oh, Damian better not hear about this, Tim cackled internally. His youngest brother hated being reminded that Jon was the same height as him despite their two years age difference. Damian definitely took after Talia when it came to body type, no matter what he said.
“And Kent also has a brother.” This time he pulled out a picture of Kon. The clone must have been caught by a reporter out shopping with Ma since he was carrying some paper bags and glaring at whoever was behind the camera. “At least, he’s supposedly Kent’s brother, but he was a teenager when he first showed up with the Kents. A lot of people think he’s actually Kent’s son, that Kent got a girl pregnant when they were teenagers and something happened to the mom so Kent had to take him in. Now the Kents are trying to hide it by saying the two are brothers.”
That was… scarily accurate actually. Especially given Luthor and Clark were close friends at the time that Kon would have theoretically been born.
“And that beef would explain why the younger Kent brother went all crime lord on Gotham for a while before reconnecting with the family.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah, Kent Jr.’s got the perfect build for Red Hood.”
Tim bit back a comment on how Kon was shorter than Jason by a good foot. Timothy Drake-Wayne should not know that. Add Jason to the list of people who can’t hear this theory.
“And then there’s this girl,” Bernard picked up a picture of Lois, Jon, and Natasha Irons walking down the street together. “No one’s sure exactly who she is, but she’s been spotted with the Kents a few times. I think the cover story is that she’s Jon’s babysitter.”
“And the actual story?”
“She’s Black Bat, obviously. That’s why she wears a mask that fully covers her face. She doesn’t want to stand out as the only African American Bat.”
“Isn’t Signal also Black?”
“Yeah, but he works in the daytime so he’s already a standout.”
“And who is Signal in this? And what about Nightwing and Red Robin?”
“Well, Nightwing’s just a Blüd who came to Gotham. He doesn’t count.”
Ouch. Sorry, Dick.
“And Red Robin is obviously an older Robin, the one who was Robin when we were kids. Kent wanted to keep him on, and I don’t blame him. As for Signal, he’s got the same backstory as all the other Robins Kent picked up, he just went the Signal route because he didn’t fit the usual Robin mold.”
“Because the female Robin fit the mold,” Tim snorted. Robin Mold, as if he and his brothers were even the same ethnicity. Or even had the same hair color. Jason dyes his hair, Dick’s is brown-black, Tim’s is pure black, and Damian’s is more a dark brown and it’s only getting lighter as he gets older.
“She didn’t, that’s the point. Kent tried to give breaking the Robin mold a chance by letting his cousin have a go at it, but he realized it just didn’t work so she went back to being Spoiler and he got a new Robin.”
Not touching that with a ten-foot pole. “Right, and where does he get the usual Robins? Please tell me you’re not back on the secret government orphanages theory.”
“No, no, no. Kent travels sometimes for his job, right? And a lot of the time he’s going to places that have been hit by disasters or major crimes. So he’ll take in some of the displaced children to train as his robins.”
Tim pressed his face back into his hands.
“You see it, right?”
Honestly, Tim was just wondering how his boyfriend could be so close, and yet so far off. “How would Kent even afford taking care of a bunch of secret -- possibly illegally acquired -- children without anyone noticing?”
“Simple. Bruce Wayne is funding him.”
“Bernard, I love you, but what the heck?” Tim blushed and looked up as he realized what he’d said, but Bernard didn’t seem to notice as he steamrolled ahead.
“It’d also explain how he can afford all the gear and how he’d be able to travel to Gotham or anywhere else Batman goes without anyone noticing. He probably has a secret Batplane or something.”
“Why would Bruce do that?”
“Because Wayne cares about Gotham, everyone knows that, and this way he can make sure someone’s taking care of the city without anyone putting two and two together.”
“And two plus two is?”
Bernard gave him a hard look. “I’m not stupid, Tim. Bruce Wayne is obviously Superman. His face is right there.”
Oh, the others are going to love this! Too bad I can’t tell Damian or Jason. Jason especially would have loved this. “Right. Bruce is Superman.”
“He is. Superman is known for being nice and Bruce Wayne’s basically all that’s keeping the city running at this point. That’s nice as hell.”
Oh my god.
“And Wayne does charity for the victims of cataclysms, doesn't he? I bet he first saves people from them as Superman and then builds them new homes for free.”
Oh my god! Why am I not recording this!?
“And the Wayne’s were rich enough to hide the fact they adopted an alien baby.”
Tim raised an eyebrow. “If you’re about to tell me this is why Bruce’s parents got killed, you might want to stop while you’re ahead.”
“It’d make sense. There’re all sorts of unanswered questions about their deaths,” Bernard muttered under his breath, flipping through the folder. He pulled out another picture of Kara. This time she was in full Supergirl attire with a bus held overhead. “So if Wayne is Superman, then that’d mean your ex-girlfriend could be Supergirl. They look a lot alike and it’d explain how she got involved with you all.”
“Bernard, she has a human dad. You know, Cluemaster. The supervillain.”
“Yeah, her dad. But we don’t know anything about her mom!”
“Let me guess…”
Bernard pulled out a picture of Karen. She and Helena were suited up and talking to a group of cops, two goons held over each of Karen’s shoulders. “Her mom could be Power Girl! Some makeup and a wig and she could look just like Crystal Brown! And Damian Wayne is obviously the new Superboy! That’s why his background is such a mystery, right? He had to stay a secret until he could control his alien superpowers. That’s why he’s always so mean. It’s a cover since everyone knows Superboy is super sweet!”
Sure, when he’s not helping Damian pull pranks or using his adorable powers to put the blame on Kon and I. “No, Bernard. Damian and Steph are just very human hellspawn. And Bruce and Crystal are human too. I can’t believe you called me over here just to tell me you think Superman is both Batman’s sugar daddy and my adoptive dad.”
“Well, that’s not exactly why I called you over,” Bernard admitted, the nervous energy coming back. He grabbed Tim’s hands. “Tim -”
Tim’s stomach sank. “You are breaking up with me!”
“What? No! I don’t want to break up!”
“Why are you acting all nervous and serious then!?” Tim asked, pulling his hands away to throw them up in the air.
Bernard shook the folder. “Because I’m trying to tell you I figured out you’re Superboy!”
Tim’s brain blue-screened and his hands slowly dropped. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I know you’re Superboy. The older one, obviously. By the way, you and Damian really need to figure out separate names.”
Forget Jason and Damian, Kon can never find out about this. He’d never let me live it down. “Bernard, you called me a twink five minutes ago. Su-” Shoot, I can not risk getting Kon’s attention! “The older one might not be as big as Superman, but he’s not a twink.”
“Well, yeah, that’s the shapeshifting at work.”
“The what?”
“Obviously you Kryptonians can shapeshift. Why else would you look so much like humans?”
… Why do Kryptonians look so much like humans? Was there some - Wait, no! Break into the Fortress of Solitude for research later! Reassure your boyfriend that you’re not an alien now! “Bernard -”
“And that explains why your step-mom was so hot.”
“Gross.”
“She and your dad were actors hired by Luthor so you could have a normal life! But now Bruce has custody so he adopted you.”
“No.”
“That’s why you and your dad were so weird with each other when I met him.”
“We were weird because he’d just gotten out of a coma not long before to find that his wife was dead so he decided to actually be a dad for once in his life, but overcompensated and became a helicopter parent to a kid who was mostly on his own for his entire life!” Tim blurted out. “I am not an alien, Bernard!”
“Well, not technically since you were cloned from Superman on Earth.”
“Oh my god! You were just talking about Steph being Supergirl! Why would I date my dad’s cousin?”
Bernard blinked. “Supergirl and Superman are cousins?”
Right, Timothy Drake-Wayne wasn’t supposed to know that. “I thought they’d said something like that before, yeah. Are people seriously saying I’m Superboy on the internet?”
“NO! No, I swear I would have led with that if I thought your identity was compromised. A few people have mentioned Wayne and Damian, but not you or Steph or Jason.”
“Wh-Jason!? You think Jason was an alien too!”
“No, not exactly, but a few times when I’ve visited I swear I’ve seen a guy in the manor who looks like Jason. It’s just been out of the corner of my eye and he’s gone whenever I look so I’ve always thought it was just Dick or Bruce or some picture of Jason that my mind was playing tricks with, but it makes sense now that I know Wayne is Superman. He must have been able to heal Jason with alien tech, but couldn’t say anything because that would give away that he’s Superman.”
Damn it Jason! And damn it Bernard! I’m dating the smartest moron in the world! “Bruce did not bring Jason back with alien technology and none of us are aliens!”
“It’s okay, Tim. I won’t tell anyone.”
Tim grabbed Bernard by the jacket and pulled him into a kiss. When he started to feel lightheaded, he pulled back, “Could someone whose skin is as solid as stone kiss like that?”
Bernard blinked dazedly at him for a moment. “How do you know what Superboy’s skin feels like?”
Tim screamed internally. “He’s saved me from a kidnapping before.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I can get you the police report if you want.”
“Huh… And the others?”
“Not Supers. I can stab Damian the next time we’re at the manor if that’ll prove none of us are aliens.” He’d rather stab Jason, but that would probably only confirm to Bernard that Bruce used alien technology to bring him back.
“You probably shouldn’t stab your brother if he isn’t an alien.”
Tim rolled his eyes. “I won’t stab him anywhere deadly.”
“That’s not the point,” Bernard said slowly.
“He’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.”
“So do you believe I’m not an alien now?” Tim huffed, letting go of Bernard’s jacket.
The blond’s eyes dipped down to Tim’s lips. “If I say no, will you kiss me like that again?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Tim said, but he kissed him anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Okay, but I still say Clark Kent is definitely Batman.”
“Sure, Bernard.”
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Pedro Pascal and Lena Headey
Head to head interview
Hunger Magazine, Issue 6. Released December 28, 2014. Photoshoot October 15, 2013.
Thirteen million. That's the number of people, on average, who tuned into each episode of the third season of Game of Thrones. Among them was Chilean actor Pedro Pascal, who was as enthralled by the sex and slaughter as the rest of us. But little did he know that within a few months he'd be pitching up on the shores of Belfast to join the cast as Oberyn Martell, affectionately known as the Red Viper. Sound ominous? It is. The Red Viper is GoTs newest anti-hero, “sexy and charming but driven by hate”. Sounds like he'll be right at home.
Pedro, on the other hand, though he looks good on paper, wasn't the obvious choice for the role. Expecting a big name to ride into King’s Landing, the show's fans took to forums to express their concerns as soon as the news broke. So is he worried? Like hell he is. “The fans had the part cast in their minds already. They knew who they wanted and it certainly was not me. But I'm not stupid, | presumed that people were going to say ‘who the fuck is this guy’. Since I anticipated the reaction it didn't throw me off.”
“There are so many different ways to go into battle with yourself when you're trying to get a job. I felt a certain amount of pressure because I wanted to make everyone happy. The fan base is so specific and, as a fan myself, I understand the relationship that they have with the show. The Red Viper is the best part I've ever played, and in season four shocks come at the most unexpected times. You might think you know, but you have no idea,” he explains.
Looks like the Red Viper could be in line to fill a Walter-White-sized-hole in television, but to test the theory we pit Pascal against Lena Headey, aka the Queen. Because if you can come away from Cersei unscathed, you can handle anything.
LH: So, Pedro, you come into Game of Thrones in season four, playing a pretty major character. Does that fill you with joy or dread?
PP: I'd say it fills me with joy because it’s a really fucking fun part. He’s a badass. He comes up against a lot of the main characters in the show. I'm very aware of the show. I watch it like a fan.
LH: Were you a fan before you arrived in Belfast?
PP: Yeah, I was a proper fan. I was caught up in the drama of it before I even auditioned for the part. I was already up to speed.
LH: I remember meeting you and thinking, “he fucking loves the show’.
PP: I kissed your ass.
LH: Well, it worked. We're friends now.
PP: I was like a tourist visiting the set, and yet I had to act with you and be in a scene with the characters that I had such a specific association with already.
LH: So you’re saying it’s boring?
PP: No, it wasn’t boring at all. It was extremely, relentlessly surreal.
LH: And who were your favourite characters up until that point?
PP: Not you.
LH: I realise that!
PP: There are too many characters to have a favourite, but I was fascinated by the Lannisters because they're so frightening. They scared me and then you would come in and pull sympathy from your audience somehow, and I found that rather fascinating. The Northerners were so easy to like or get behind, but it was quite something to see people sympathise with a Lannister, after you made people see things from their perspective.
LH: Speaking of being slightly ambiguous as a character, you come in as a major player and a very well-loved character in the eyes of people who read the books, and he’s somewhat of an anti-hero. Did you base him on anyone?
PP: What does an anti-hero mean exactly?
LH: It means he doesn't wear deodorant, doesn't it? [Laughs]. Someone you shouldn't champion, but you do, like Walter White in Breaking Bad.
PP: No, | didn’t really base him on anyone.
LH: Did you take anything from classic movies that you thought you could use and spin to your advantage playing the Red Viper?
PP: God, that’s a good question. I probably did subconsciously. Now I feel under the spotlight because I need to think of somebody, and I have so many in my mind! I think that’s something that is happening a lot in TV today: the anti-heroes are central to these television shows, and people are really getting behind them, even though they're not necessarily the most moral characters. So I'd say that ‘ve become more familiar with the character who's obviously very flawed but gets you on their side — you have complicated feelings about them. But I think I saw the story too much from this character's perspective to perceive any flaws.
LH: He has some.
PP: I know, from the outside. But I don't see any of them. What are his flaws?
LH: His flaws? He's a dirty bastard!
PP: Why is he a dirty bastard? He likes to fucking fight, for sure.
LH: Back to you as an actor. You've done it for a long time and, as we all know, the path is not always golden, and sometimes you think, “fuck it” and you want to leave it and do something else. Have there been moments where you wanted to give up?
PP: Yes, there have been moments where I came very close to giving up. But I never had anything to fall back on. I think you can understand that.
LH: Because were stupid?
PP: We're stupid.
LH: I can't even make pizza!
PP: We don’t have any other skills.
LH: None at all!
PP: And that’s the odd conundrum. You get to a point where you think, “This isn’t going to happen. This isn’t sustainable. I'm too exhausted, and it can't be good for me.” There were moments where I truly did try to formulate an idea of what I'd do. I thought I'd go back to school, start pre-med again and go to medical school or something like that.
LH: But that didn't happen, you just thought about it?
PP: Yes, I'd have thoughts, but it was still fantasy really. But at the time it felt like a practical life plan. Do you know what I mean?
LH: Yeah of course, you need to pay the fucking rent.
PP: Exactly. You just try to escape from the chaos of what you're feeling by trying to create order in your life. Order seems like a solution to save you from the pain of acting!
LH: It's a mental pain. Who was the first person you called when you got the role?
PP: My sister.
LH: Does she watch the show?
PP: Yes, she does.
LH: Pedro Pascal... or Pablo as I called you when I had too much wine, which was deeply insulting.
PP: Even family members have done that to me! Do I look more like a Pablo? Because it happens with about ninety-five percent of the people I meet.
LH: No, I think I’m just an ignorant drunk person.
PP: No, you were an ignorant drunk person that night is what you're saying.
LH: And now I’m educated.
PP: [Whispers] But | want you to call me Pablo.
LH: Ok, Pablo! When you first arrived on set in Northern Ireland, what was your feeling showing up to a bunch of British actors? Did it feel different to doing an American project?
PP: Yes, but I loved it. It wasn’t intimidating. I found it surreal because I’d watched and loved the show. I hadn't had the opportunity to work on something that I was really familiar with before, so it was overwhelming. But it was far more delightful than intimidating. Also you guys were really cool. Everyone was friendly.
LH: Oh, that’s just fake.
PP: Well, you guys were good at it!
LH: We know Game of Thrones is very popular obviously. Do you have any thoughts, or fears, about what this is going to bring you in terms of exposure?
PP: I have hope.
LH: Oh, God. I don’t mean to shatter that, but give it up.
PP: I don’t know really. It’s all been filmed, and now I'm back to my normal routine, so I haven't really thought about it. I remember when we finished filming and we were on our way to the airport, you asked me, “How does it feel you're all done?” and I couldn't really answer.
LH: You were quite emotional that day.
PP: I was very emotional because I’d had such an amazing time doing the part. Also just being there immersed in the experience... You described it to me best. You told me how I'd be feeling.
LH: We don't know your character's backstory when you enter the show, and you have some rather brutal scenes. Anyone who has read the books will know what I’m talking about.
PP: My character comes in, he stirs a bunch of shit up, and then he makes this fucking enormous exit. Now can | ask you a question?
LH: What is it? I’m not going to sleep with you. Give it up.
PP: Oh, come on! This has gone to shit and it’s your fault, so good luck to whoever has to edit it! But anyway, sometimes I'd hang out with the cast members and we'd go to dinner and they would get stopped constantly. There was no denying who they played because they were so recognisable, but you got away with it because you have this beautiful blonde wig on in the show, and in real life you are...
LH: Grey?
PP: {Laughs] No! You have beautiful chestnut hair! Is it liberating to not be recognised the way some of the other cast members are?
LH: Yes, it is liberating.
PP: Liberating being able to walk down an alley in Dubrovnik without being stopped?
LH: Yes, except sometimes | get recognised in the weirdest places. A woman was emptying my bag at Heathrow Airport's security gates and just went, “Are you the Queen?” while rummaging through my underwear. It was so fucking weird.
PP: It seems they're more respectful to you?
LH: Because they're frightened. Wait until they meet the Viper.
PP: Well, that covers it.
LH: I think we're going to get our own show out of this, you know
youtube
Interested in learning more about Pedro? Check out Pedro Pascal Unofficial on Pinterest!
#pedro pascal#lena headey#hunger magazine#shot October 2013#published December 2014#game of thrones#queen cersei#prince oberyn#oberyn#oberyn martell#hunger tv
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MHA boys on take your kid to work day
Hello! New post with 3 of my loves! Just them reacting to your kids visting them at work Bakugou and Aizawa are fluff and just a hint sad while Izuku’s is fluff and crack! Reader is neutral.
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Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Aizawa Shouta x Reader, Midoriya Izuku x Reader
They react to their kids coming to visit them on bring your kid to work day
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BAKUGOU KATSUKI
When little Kaori said she wanted to go with Bakugou to bring your kid to work day, who she called Papa, you were a little hurt but decided hey you could use this as an excuse to hang out with him as well. A sort of family day at Bakugou's agency. Bakugou on the other hand was less than thrilled he did not want his baby girl anywhere near the dangerous agency or on the field with him. He also couldn't say no so, here you were with your daughter all dressed in his official costume merch, bouncing on your hip with joy.
“We at daddy work now?” She said as she glanced around.
“Little girl even if you ask every two minutes it won't make us get there faster.” You said with a smile.
“Otay!” She said with her cute slur. She didn't get the chance to ask the question again as you entered the building.
“Oh look who it is!” A voice boomed out to you both. You recognize it as Kirishima, Kaori's partner in crime. Next to him was Bakugou who was giving you a goofy smile.
“Uncle Eiji! Uncle Eiji!” The little girl roared as she ran to meet him, slipping from your arms. She dashed into his rams and giggled as he threw her into the air.
“Oi you little brat! What about papa, just forgot all about me? Im wounded.” Bakugou said in a playful tone. The little girl gasped and grabbed bakugou's leg when she was back on the ground.
“No papa don't be wounded! I didn't forgot you!” She said into his leg, bakugou picked her up with a chuckle and came to your side.
“Yeah don't worry she didn’t forget about her precious papa. You all she could talk about I didn’t think I would find someone who talks about you more than you do but then again she is your kid.” You said making yourself and Kirishima laugh.
“OUR kid! You talk about me just as much, i'm the best husband and dad and hero, of course she’s gonna brag about me to anyone with ears.” He said ruffling her hair as he placed her down next to him.
“Papa, c’mon we gotta do papa works!” The little girl said, bouncing around the lobby.
“Oh yeah! You wanna see papa and me kick some ass?! You gotta take all in so you can be a great hero too someday!” Kiri said, further riling the girl up.
“Yay! Gonna watch you and papa kick ass and take names!!” The girl said not watching how her parents' faces paled. Kirishima only laughed and told you he was gonna take Kaori on a tour of his office real quick.
“Stop being such a bad influence on my daughter shitty hair!” Your husband roared after the pair of giggling retreating figures.
“Him? Puppy eyed, soft, and cuddly Kirishima Eijirou, badly influencing Kaori? It's all you babe, the little girl is so in love with you she does everything you do, just a bit cuter.” You said as you pecked his check.
“She isn't like me, stop saying that.” He said seriously with a grunt.
“She is, you are her hero. She wants to be just like you, what's the problem with that? You’ve been pushing her away every since she said she wanted to come here.” You said glaring at him.’
“I have not.” He said looking away from you.
“Yes you have, Katsuki, just talk to me cause you're gonna break your daughters heart. Every night you used to tell her stories of your patrols. Buy her you and Eijirou’s hero merch, hell even deku’s. Kids arent dumb shes is going to notice you stopped doing those things.” You said grabbing his chin and making him meet your eyes.
“She shouldn't want to be like me, okay!! I never want her to be a Pro-hero! I never want her to have scars on every inch of her body’s and be insecure about how she looks! I never want her to have nightmares of screams or the people she couldn’t save. I don’t want to worry that one day she might not come home, okay. And all the shit I went through at UA!? No way.” He whisper shouted at you.
“You're getting way ahead of yourself baby. Kaori isn’t even in school yet and barely has bloomed into her quirk. She isn’t getting any battle scars just bumps and bruises. It’s easy to worry about the what if’s but it’s even easier to just focus on her laugh or her smile when she talks about you. Love your also forgetting you are more than a pro hero, your a good man who’s funny, brave, and little wild. That’s who Kaori wants to be like not Dynamight, she wants to be like her papa, Bakugou Katsuki.” You said caressing his cheeks. He considered your words with flushed cheeks, before he let out a sigh but before he could respond Kaori came crashing to him.
“Papa! Papa! Papa!” The girl said jumping up and down with her hands up. Bakugou laughed but picked her up nonetheless.
“C’mon papa! We gots to go do paperworks! Uncle kiri said we do that then we go kickass!” She said wigging with happiness in his arms, you laughed as he paled again.
“Sure baby girl but please don’t say that bad word, papa doesn’t like it.” He said as he walked towards his office.
“To bads! I wanna be just like you papa and you say it so I’m gonna say it too!” She said, pulling at his cheeks.
“You damn brat just listen to me! If you’re gonna try to be like me at least be a better version not a copy pasted person which means no cussing!” He yelled gently at her.
“Okay papa! Does this mean you’ll teach me how to be as great as papa! Wanna be just like you ‘member” she said with determination.
“Don’t say anymore no no words today and hell yeah I will! I’ll teach you how to be even better than Papa.” Bakugou said not looking at Kaori but looking at you. His look was saying what his mouth couldn’t, he was done thinking of what could happen years from now. Right now he just wanted to do whatever made his little girl smile whatever that means.
AIZAWA SHOUTA
“Tell me you did not.” Aizawa said to his blonde friend.
“I did, you can't be mad!” Hizashi said with a chuckle.
“I can be and I am. I told you I didn't want them here.” he said lowly.
“There are a bunch of pros here, security is super tight and they know not to call you or me by our government names or to say their full names and besides Y/n is gonna be here the whole time.” The blonde said, trying to calm down his friend.
“No matter how tight our security is, stuff seems to slip through the cracks and put the students in danger. I don't need any villains learning I have not one not two but three huge and very exploitable weaknesses.” He said as they neared his rooms where his students were waiting.
“They are wearing face masks and hoods. Any part of them that is distinguishable is being hidden, its gonna be fine. Don't act like you aren't excited to see them, its been 4 days i know you're itching to see them.” Hizashi said as his friend went into his classroom. He had only gotten about halfway through the class when the door opened and you were seen in the doorway.
“Dada!!” The little one year old said in your arms skirming for her dad. The whole class craned their necks to see you, your one year old, and your 4 year old.
“Hello Eraserhead!” You laughed as you went to sit at an open desk placing both of the kids on your lap. The class glanced from the kids to their teacher and back again.
“Sensei! You have kids! And you're married!” A blonde one yelled.
“Denki stop yelling you're gonna give me a headache. Yes I do, which I hope you can all keep them a secret.” He said with a sigh.
“You're such a grump I don't know how they tolerate you. Hello, I am Y/n, this little one is Kumiko, and this one is Shira.” You said as you waved at them, Kumiko copied you and gave the kids a lazy wave to which all the kids cooed at. Aizawa smiled and went back to explaining what the class would be doing for the rest of class period which was just some research on a few different kinds of hero agency.
“Hello my pretty girls.” Aizawa said taking the bouncing girl from you.
“Hi daddy! Can I help you with your work!” Shira said with a toothy smile, she had a sort of fascination with quirks.
“To be honest sweet thing they are learning big words right now, words too big for you but im sure they would love to talk to you and tell you about their quirks.” He said ruffling her hair. Then his quirk activated as he looked at his class.
“Say anything inappropriate, lose control of your quirk and hurt her and I'll expel you.” He said menacingly to which all the kids nodded in fear. That's all Shira needed to hear before she walked over to a group of students.
“She was so excited when I told her we were going to see you, I think she's going to be a teacher someday.” You said gazing up at Aizawa who was playing with Kumiko.
“Uh uh sweet talk like that isn't gonna work. I told you it is too dangerous for them to be here.” He said with a pout.
“I remember saying there isn't a safer place than with you!” You said with a small smile.
“Well have it your way as usual when Shira or Kumiko start acting like one of these brats you and Mic will be to blame.” He said with a sigh.
“Well Mr. Easerhead, I'll be prepared for punishment! I think i have nothing to fear though the smile on your face says everything you can't.” You said as he played with your daughter. The day went like this. You and Aizawa playing with Kumiko and Shira floating about the classroom, The day had almost went by without any event when Shira louds cries were heard. Aizawa handed Kumiko to you and was at her side in a second. She rushed into his torso and cried even more. The class all had their fingers pointed to 3 of the boys.
“What’s wrong sweetheart?” He spoke to her softly. Her little fist rubbed at her eyes.
“I told then that you were the best hero and then green one was like ‘thats All might’ and then the blonde one was like ‘yeah he really great person’ then the red and white one was like ‘yeah he is number 1’ they dumb assholes anyway cus he not 1 anymore dats ‘devor! You're the best hero, aren't you daddy?” The girl said as she looked at her dad with stars in her eyes. You were just laughing as quietly as you could.
“Im anything you want me to be sweetheart but don't say asshole it's a naughty word for adults.” He said, wiping the drying tears from her cheeks.
“But the blonde one said it alot.” She said with a pout.
“Did he now? Well in that case I forgot you have a 3 mile run today, and it's a test. Be back before class is over which is roughly 30 no 27 minutes or you'll be put on cleaning duty for the whole school including the dorms.” He said and the class was off just like that. Your small family watched from the window as the students ran with Shira sometimes yelling out the window.
“And don't stop until you finished you lazy wannabe heroes!” She shouted with a happy smile.
“Did I say it right daddy?” She said wiggling in his arms.
“Yes you did sweetheart.” He said with a proud smile.
MIDORIYA IZUKU
You and the twins had been at Izuku’s agency for a while and he was going insane. The boys were 3 and nothing like their father. They were wild, loud and adventurous. They didn't and wouldn't stay still. The office loved it but Izuku was about to have a heart attack, Tatsuo was missing. He was only 3 and couldn't really open the door or operate an elevator so you, Bakugou, and Uraraka were not all that worried but poor Izuku was.
“Deku calm the fuck down. He’s been gone for like 2 minutes maybe he couldn't have got far.” Bakugou said to his stressing friend who was putting Toshi back into his leash backpack thing.
“It only takes 1 second to get hurt or die, Kacchan. I’ve failed as a parent.” He said, sounding too serious. You couldn't stop your laughter now.
“Honey, our kids are too predictable. Just get a bag of C-A-N-D-Y from their bag and shake, Tatsuo will come running.” You said with a small smile taking Toshi from him.
“Oh good thinking!” He said getting a bag and shaking like crazy. Soon little footsteps were heard and Tatsuo emerged from behind Izuku smiling like crazy.
“Daddy, can I have a candy, pretty please!” He said with his cute smile almost making his father forget he ran from then.
“Only if you promise to never wander off like that again!” Izuku said as sternly as he could, but it wasn't very stern at all. The boy nodded at him and stuck out his hand but when he did Izuku noticed blood all over his hand and fainted within seconds. You and Bakugou went to find bandages and a first aid-kit for Tatsou while Uraraka got water to wake up Izuku.
“Oh my gosh! Does he need stitches or something! We should take him to the hospital.” Izuku said as he shot awake. The people around all laughed at the green haired boy.
“No babe, he was just playing with a stapler and staple his hands…. A few times but he’s fine.” You said pointing to the two boys who were watching Bakugou make very small explosions.
“Tatsuo! Toshi! Don't get too close you could get hurt! We should go home babe, hey Uravity take over for me I’m going home!!” He yelled shakily. You weren't sure what you were gonna do with your worrywart husband, especially when the boys do or don't get quirks. He couldn't handle them now without needing an inhaler. He damn sure couldn't if they got quirks, you could picture it now. A funeral caused by your rambunctious kids for your husband. ‘Here lies a lovely but overbearing and worrywart father.’
#bakugou x y/n#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou fluff#bnha bakugou#aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta x reader#bnha aizawa#aizawa shouta#midoriya x reader#midoriya izuku#deku x reader#bnha midoriya#mha fanfiction#mha deku#bnha x reader
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Vienna Waits For You -7- William Nylander
A/N: All previous parts are linked in my masterlist. Just straight angst. Really nothing but angsty angst.
“I feel like there’s something I missed,” Jackson’s voice broke Avalyn’s dazed state.
They were in between takes, several members of the crew were huddled around a series of monitors trying to figure out how to make the scene feel a little more natural and believable. Across the set, which was really an ice rink, William and a few of the other Leafs were dressed in a fictional team’s warmups. Most of them had wigs or some form of prosthetics on so they wouldn’t be automatically recognizable. But even with a brown wig, William still stood out to her.
“No, you nailed all of the dialog, I don’t think it has anything to do with us,” Avalyn shrugged, not able to tear her eyes away from the men across from her.
“No, I know the scene was fine. I’m talking about the look you have,” He nudged her with his shoulder, “Did you sleep with him?”
Avalyn nearly choked, not expecting that to be his assessment. Although, when it came to her, Jackson was always very blunt and to the point. Especially on set where they didn’t get much time to dance around conversations. But this…this wasn’t a discussion she was expecting to have.
“What kind of a question is that? I most certainly did not sleep with him!” She was careful not to be too loud, but still made sure Jackson fully understood the gravity of his question.
“You know I wouldn’t be judging if you did. You know we’re long beyond judging.”
“I didn’t sleep with him,” She repeated again, “I kissed him…but it didn’t go further than that, even if I wanted it to.”
“Do we need to like, girl chat about this?”
She shook her head slowly, “No. I’m fine.”
He knew she wasn’t though. He could see it in her eyes and the way she looked at William. There was a sort of longing that Jackson hadn’t seen from her. Like her heart was somehow walking outside of her body now and she’d yet to figure it out. But she was masochistic, she wouldn’t do anything about it as long as her managers still had something to hold over her.
“You know, they can’t control who you love, Avey,” He said smiling softly at his best friend, “I’m going to see what’s going on with the footage.”
She nodded, not really paying attention to Jackson anymore. She just couldn’t take her eyes off of William in that stupid wig. To anyone who didn’t know him, he probably still looked just as attractive. But she hated seeing him like that…like someone who wasn’t himself. Maybe that’s how he felt about her, whenever he said that he preferred her more without a glam squad working for hours to get her camera ready.
William seemed to feel her looking at him, he smiled before excusing himself from the group of his teammates. Slowly he made his way over to Avalyn. Watching her work…he finally saw the beauty in her job. The way she was able to turn a flat script into a person, a whole story and life…he wasn’t sure he could really understand how she was even able to do any of it.
“Having fun?” He questioned, sitting down next to her.
She shrugged before reaching up and tugging a strand of his wig, “This is worse up close.”
He stretched at his head, his nose scrunching up as he did, “It’s itchy as hell too.”
Avalyn had to suppress a laugh, “It’s just not you.”
He smiled before tugging a chunk of her hair in return, “But this… this is you.”
She fought back a smile. One thing she already loved about this show was that her hair stayed almost completely natural. Her messy, unruly waves were on full display. For once she didn’t have layers of makeup caked on either, but rather light layers to even her skin and complement. Rather than completely change her. She was even allowed to wear her glasses.
“It’s funny, I’m still playing someone else, yet I haven’t felt more like myself in a long time.”
Avalyn tried not to pay any attention to the warmth that spread throughout her. Or the electricity that seemed to jump between the two of them. She tried not to blush just thinking about the kiss they shared, or how she wished it could have gone further.
Netflix would be announcing the show in the next few weeks, which meant everyone would know that she was in Toronto. There would be no more hiding, no more lying to convince people that she wasn’t the one in the photo with William. Avalyn couldn’t be selfish anymore, not when his career was at stake. She wouldn’t allow anything to happen to him because of her.
“It’s cool watching you work,” He mentioned casually.
“I guess I’ll have to come to a game then, so I can actually see you work, and not watch highlights after the fact.”
There was a sense of playfulness between the two. Avalyn was hoping it would cover just how much she wanted their situation to be different. William was hoping it would make her comfortable. But in the end, they really wanted the same thing. They wanted each other.
“I’ll get you a jersey then. Maybe mine?”
“Oh, real smooth Nylander,” She laughed, shoving her shoulder into his.
“Worth a shot.”
“Hey Avey! Get over here for a sec, need your opinion!” Jackson called from the series of monitors.
“Duty calls,” She sighed, “Go get some snacks from Craft, if anyone harps on you, tell them I sent you.”
She winked at him as she walked away, hoping he didn’t notice how she was nearly shaking. She could keep toeing this line, as long as she felt like she still had some level of power over him. If only William knew that he held all of the cards, all of the power, she was completely at his mercy. If he decided to take this, whatever it was, further she would hardly be able to stop herself from falling head first with him.
“Trying to figure out what style works best,” Jackson explained once she reached the group huddled around the monitors, “You’re a producer too, so you get a say.”
“Well, you said you wanted this to be like the Friday Night Lights of the hockey world right?” Avalyn asked the director and creator, “Maybe try a few shots like that? No fancy angles or close coverages unless you really need it. Let the camera crew do what feels right.”
“You know what, one of our key members of the crew worked on Friday Night Lights back in the day, he’s running the cameras,” Eric explained, “It just might work. Not to copy them, but bring back that simple nostalgic way of shooting.”
“Alright, we’ll give it a try,” The director agreed, before telling the AD to round up the crew.
Jackson slung his arm over Avalyn’s shoulder, flashing a big smile, “Alright kiddo, let’s get some work done.”
After a long day on set, Avalyn collapsed on her couch. Another body followed her movements, long blond hair fanning out behind him. The whole car ride back to her apartment William kept talking about how tired he was, but how cool he thought the whole experience was.
Avalyn remembered that feeling from the first time she was on her first big set, surrounded by huge Hollywood stars. The way all of it seemed like a dream somehow, like she was peering behind the curtain and seeing all types of things that she wasn’t supposed to. But William already knew everyone on set, thanks to the month spent preparing, and the extra few weeks of training. He still couldn’t help but feel in awe though. Mostly of Avalyn.
“You look worse than you do after a game,” She laughed, pushing his hair out of his face.
“I didn’t realize how exhausting your job is,” He huffed, turning slightly to face her, “But shit, you’re amazing.”
She blushed, looking away from him to try to hide it, “I’ve just spent my whole life doing that. I’m not nearly as talented as some people in the business.”
There was a long silence. Avalyn almost thought William fell asleep, until he slowly stood and walked over to her wall of bookshelves. Never in the whole time he’d been coming to her apartment had he actually gone over to take note of all of them. He never questioned them, or why she loved them so much.
“So, why don’t you have a TV? Anytime you want to watch something, it’s on your computer. And I think I’ve only seen you watch hockey movies, or some old historical thing.”
Avalyn shrugged, feeling like her skin was crawling, “Books could still be real. Movies and TV….all they are is smoke and mirrors.”
“So…books,” He scanned her shelves, before pulling out a book being held together by tape, “I should’ve pegged you for someone who loved the Bronte sisters.”
“Emily is my favorite, second only to the wonderful Jane Austen.”
“Please tell me you have an equally tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice in your bedroom.”
“Only for when I want to feel superior to a man with a good fortune who is undoubtedly in want of a wife,” She matched his joking tone, not even noticing the fluttering in her chest.
“Ah, of course. I should have guessed,” He carefully put the book back on the shelf, “So English Lit mostly?”
“A lot of historical fiction and biographies,” She shrugged, “But yes, I have all of the greats. English and American.”
“Well, you truly are an accomplished woman. Can you draw and play the piano too?”
She held back a laugh, “I can hardly draw a stick figure, but I can play enough. I feel like I should be really shocked that you’ve seen Pride and Prejudice.”
“Only the Keira Knightly version,” He pointed out, “My little sisters love it. We watch it a lot during the summers.”
He plopped back down on the couch, his arms stretching out across the back, “You’d love summer in Sweden, there’s nothing like it.”
“I passed through once after we finished a shoot. But I couldn’t stop to enjoy it.”
“Well, you’ll have to come by sometime. My sisters would love to meet you,” He said it as if there was no real weight to his words.
Her heart seemed to jump a little when he looked back over at her. There was something about the way that he was so relaxed in her home. He was familiar with every part of her living room and kitchen, comfortable with it. They spent more time here than anywhere else.
“Maybe I will one of these days,” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she thought it did.
“I wish I could kiss you again.”
Avalyn suddenly felt the need to put as much distance between the two as she could, “They’re going to announce the show in the next few weeks. Everyone will know I’m here, which means I won’t have as much freedom as I’ve had.”
“Doesn’t mean-”
“It means, William, that this has to stop. I won’t let you risk your whole career for something that won’t last.”
He moved to be closer to her, she could feel the heat from his body where their legs now touched, “I hate to break it to you Ava, but you can’t make that decision for me.”
“I could cut you out of my life,” She said, regretting it the instant the words left her mouth.
“No, you wouldn’t.” He challenged.
But there was no bite to his words, his voice was low and soft. She felt it to her very core. Warmth started to spread throughout her. She could fight it though. She could get control over herself and make sure he stayed free of her.
“Will. Please.”
“For once in your life Ava, do something that you want to do,” It was the way he said her name, his name for her. Avalyn thought she would melt, “But if you say no, and I mean really say it. Because you don’t want this…I’ll walk out and this will be over.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” She admitted softly, “I- I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve known Jackson my whole life, and he knows me, really knows me. But you…Will, you see me. It scares the shit out of me. When you first met me, I was more worried that you’d join up with Margot to try to ruin everything I spent my whole life building. Now I’m scared shitless because somehow…somehow you see through all of the bullshit I fake.”
“Only because I care. Albeit maybe a little too much, but god I care.”
She found it hard to get air into her lungs, hard to even think. She was sure her hands were shaking. She didn’t want to let him walk out, because she knew she really would lose him that way. But she wasn’t sure how she could allow him to stay either.
“If you stay….this is all we can have. Empty apartments and dark corners if we’re lucky. We could never go out publicly, couldn’t post about us on social media,” She took a deep breath, one that made her whole body shake, “I wouldn’t be able to come to your games without it being a cast outing or with…or with Jackson, as a date.”
“I don’t care,” His voice was soft as he reached for her, seeming to only need to be closer.
But her hand stopped his, gently pulling it away from her face. He could see her breaking, every moment bringing them closer to the edge of some sort of precipice that they wouldn’t be able to step back from. They could feel it, both of them, like they were about to free fall into something neither one was prepared for.
“You wouldn’t be able to tell your family. We’d only know each other in passing, or professionally. But even then…we’d have to act like strangers. I lied about you once and it made me physically sick. Will, I don’t know if I could do that all the time. I don’t-”
She let him fully reach for her this time. He held her tightly as tears began to fall down her cheeks. He knew he couldn’t ask her for this. No matter how much they might want to live this life together, this love story; he knew it would break her. Her whole life was carefully calculated and planned out, until she came to Toronto. But he wouldn’t ask her to destroy what little bit of her heart that her parents hadn’t yet crushed. Truth was, he loved her too much for that.
William wasn’t even sure how it was possible, but he knew by the way his chest tightened as he held her. Somehow, he could find a way to free her from all of this life. He wanted her to have all of the good things that life had to offer. He wanted her to be free.
“Then know, whatever happens… I know you Ava, I see you,” His voice was so soft she almost didn’t hear it, “I love you.”
She was sure he could hear her heart breaking as he kissed the top of her head. This was a new feeling for her, the brokenness deep within her all while her heart seemed to fly at his words and touch. But her mind knew this was it, even if her heart wasn’t ready for it yet. So, Avalyn clutched onto William, just for a few more moments.
“I love you,” Her voice was that of a person who was truly shattered.
She forced herself to look up at him, one last time where she could really see it all. His eyes were full of tears he wouldn’t let fall. She gently reached up, thumb stoking his cheek. There was so much she wanted to remember. Like her, William was someone different when it was just them. She wanted to remember this version of him.
“We’ll always have this,” He whispered, trying to reassure them both.
She grabbed his hand again, gently pulling him to follow her, “I want to play you something.”
A fresh set of tears fell from her eyes as she walked backwards to her bedroom. She tried to calm her shaking body. Her old keyboard sat in the corner of her plain bedroom. William tried not to think about how big of a step this had to be for her. Her room was the one place she really didn’t have to hide anything. The door was always closed when he came. Now, he was standing in the middle of it, watching as she slowly lowered herself onto the bench, before turning to beckon him over as well.
“My uh- my parents loved Billy Joel when I was little. Love for his music is probably the only good thing they’ve ever really given me,” Her voice shook with uncertainty, “I haven’t played this for anyone before. I don’t… I don’t play for people, even Jackson.”
“Then you don’t have to.”
“No,” She was quick to say, needing him to understand, “If this is all we have…then I want you to have this too. A little bit of light in the dark.”
Slowly her fingers found the keys, playing a soft melody that she hummed often. William was able to recognize it quickly, although he didn’t actually know the song. Her eyes were closed as she played, tears still slipping down. His chest felt heavy at the sight. But then her voice filled the room, soft and beautiful and broken.
He sat so still the entire time, watching her. Her beautiful self. He didn’t think it was possible to feel so many things all at once, but she once again was proving to him that he knew nothing. He wanted to hold her, to bring her out with him. A far cry from how he felt when they first met. Back when he thought he knew all he needed to about Avalyn Bradshaw Kreitzburg. Back when he thought everything was cut and dry with members of the Hollywood elite. He was so wrong, about everything. He only wished they would have more time together. But they would hardly be able to see one another anymore, not with their schedules becoming crazier and crazier by the second. His season was becoming more intense, and she was on set almost every spare second. This would be it for them.
“Vienna waits for you….”
She played the last few notes and the room fell silent. Avalyn hung her head, trying to pull herself together for just a few more moments. She would say goodbye and somehow keep going. This would just become a small moment in time, William would become a blip on the timeline that she might one day tell people about at a party.
“So…now we have Vienna too,” She said softly, “And it’ll always be waiting.”
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Life size mannequin.
Erik’s girl uses him as a mannequin but Erik takes it too far and it back fires.
If you were to ask Y/N how she gets everything done she wouldn’t be able to give you a straight forward answer. Juggling school, a full time job, and a side hussle isn’t for the delicate and inadequate. Staying up until 2 AM with flash cards sprawled out on the living room table and a ratty mannequin head between her legs every night, Y/N fights much needed rest to recharge for the next days events. That’s not the only thing her teeming life has to offer. Y/N’s new boyfriend, Erik would be seen as a distraction to some but she can hold her own without slacking on her studies, missing a days work, or forgetting to do a clients hair. He’s handsome, fun, intriguing, smart, and that dick...it needs its own SSN and certificate. It’s own area code even. If she had to admit it, whenever her mind drifted to their bodies tangled in her sheets, moaning and groaning, she lost focus just a little bit.
Y/N is off on a Friday for once and instead of catching up on rest, Y/N decided to use her entire day making a closure wig for a friend and client. It’s a 24 inch body wave natural black lace frontal. No shedding, very soft, bouncy, with overall great quality. If only her lousy mannequin head would keep still!!! Y/N gave up after the mannequin head slipped from her grip. She usually has a wig stand with a mannequin head attached to the end but all of them are covered with other wigs that didn’t need to be ruined. The old fashioned way brought her back to how frustrating it was to practice. And to make things worse, Erik is strolling back and forth in front of her naked after his shower and completely ignoring her closet stocked with plenty of towels. When he stopped in front of her, his strapping thighs and that lethal weapon dangling she felt her face grow warm and her belly grow butterflies.
“You’re not helping, jerk,” Y/N said as she continued sewing. She was almost finished.
“I haven’t seen you in a few days and the one time I have a chance to spend time with you, this is what you do.”
“This wig is past due, Erik. I was supposed to get this to her two days ago. Thank God she had some shit going on herself otherwise I would be losing a client.”
Erik gave up trying to seduce Y/N and grabbed a pair of briefs from his travel bag.
“Whatever, you owe me some after this,” Erik sat down on the bed, leaning on one elbow, “You really into this.”
“And?” Y/N sassed.
“I’m just saying. Why not be a full time hair stylist?”
“Because I don’t want to do this for a living. Why else would I be in school for something that has nothing to do with hair? It’s just money to make on the side.”
The mannequin slipped again and Erik burst out laughing.
“I wanna see you try it since you find my struggle funny.”
“Oh, you don’t want me to do it I’ll fuck that whole wig up.”
Y/N ignored his smart remark.
“I’ll come over there and mess that shit right up and make you start over.”
“Erik, I’m not in the mood right now leave me alone,” Y/N cut her eyes at him, “Try me if you want I will take the end of this needle and dig it in one of them keloids. Make it pop like bubble wrap, think I’m playing.”
“You forget you’re talking to someone with a pain kink. Why you think my pain receptors fucked up?”
“So, you mean to tell me, if I boil some hot water right now and pour it on your leg...you wouldn’t feel pain?”
Erik frowned his face into a mug at Y/N as he cocked his head back. The widening of his eyes is what made her giggle.
“You don’t know how to love me all you wanna do is hurt a nigga. What is wrong with you?”
“I’m only messing with you—”
“No you’re not. If I say some shit you don’t like I get slapped upside my head. If I want to be in a playing mood you threaten me with that little fist of yours. Just admit it, you enjoy tormenting me.”
“You’re so Goddamn dramatic,” Y/N tilted her mannequin head forward, “Can you do me a huge favor?”
“If it involves getting up off this bed the answer is fuck no,” Erik said while lying on his back now with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed.
“I already know you’re about to say no but...I want you to let me use you as my mannequin.”
“Huh?”
The way his voice rose an octave has Y/N laughing.
“Can you let me put this wig on you so I can finish this?”
Erik’s brows shot up as his eyes landed on her, “Why? So you can sneak and take a picture? I’m not falling for that.”
“Erik c’mon now. I just need your head for a second and that’s it.”
“I can think of other ways you can use my head but instead you wanna put some weave on me.”
Erik sat up and swung his legs around to face Y/N. Erik leans forward on his knees, staring at the wig with a steady blink.
“What size is that shit anyway? You know I have locs so...how the hell is that supposed to fit on my head?”
“I’ll just...fit it over that pineapple on top of your head.”
“Jokes,” Erik reached up and took out the elastic band that held his tapered locs. Shaking his head, his locs fell over his eyes, “I’m not putting that on my head.”
“Not even for me?” Y/N pouts, “Not your favorite girl?”
“I know you, Y/N. You’re gonna put that shit on my head, take a picture, and post it. I’m not falling for the shit. I told you that.”
“Whatever. You got a big ass dome anyway and this wig is average size.”
“Now you’re tryna clown me?” Erik said with a half smirk on his full lips flashing a bit of his gold canines.
“It’s like...mad wide from front to back...no wonder you keep your hair long—”
“I know you ain’t talking shit with that ginormous ass forehead, girl.”
“I thought you said all the fine girls got big foreheads?” Y/N bat her lashes at Erik.
“That’s what’s helping you out. First time I saw you I was thinking damn, this bitch got a big ass forehead. And don’t think I forgot about how you played me when you sent that cropped picture.”
“Boy, fuck you!!” Y/N shouted over Erik’s laughter.
“I was—I was looking at the picture like where the rest of her face go?!”
Y/N glared at Erik as he dissolved into laughter.
“It’s really not that funny. Now are you gonna help me or not?!”
“Aight, I’ll do it this one time.” Erik sat up with one hand resting against his abdomen while the other wiped away tears, “Where do you want me?”
“On the floor between my legs, DUH where the fuck else would you be?”
He began dying laughing again from Y/N’s obvious annoyance. Erik took his place on the floor while Y/N climbed behind him onto the bed with each leg dangling on either side of him. Y/N takes the wig from the mannequin and before she placed it on Erik she tilted his head back more for easier access. Grabbing the half-done wig, Y/N fluffed out the ends before arranging it over Erik’s locs. Even at their short length it was a challenge to fit the wig the way she needed it.
“Can you PLEASE keep still?” Y/N prompted.
“I’m not even moving. This wig just don’t fit.”
Y/N applied force and wiggled it over his locs causing Erik’s head to rock back and forth aggressively. He growled before reaching behind him to grab her hands. The wig looked much shorter on him in the back from how prominent his back and shoulders are. Erik turned to face her with his lips tight and face frowned, the wig making him look ridiculous and silly. Y/N folded her lips into her mouth but the urge to laugh caused her cheeks to puff out.
“If only you knew how tight my fucking head feels right now. I can’t even smile without this shit feeling like my scalp is being pulled. This better come off when we’re done or that’s your ass.”
“Erik, turn around. I only have one section to do and then you’re free. Next time, don’t ask me to help you with shit if you’re gonna act like this.”
Erik sucked his teeth and faced forward so Y/N could continue. He lowered his head so she could work on the back area.
“Can I ask you something, babe?” Y/N said.
“What?” Erik replied.
“Do you mind modeling this for me—”
“See, I knew this shit—”
Erik stood up before Y/N could wrap her arms around him. He walked over to the full body mirror in her room to look at himself and that’s when he couldn’t hold back his own laughter.
“Yo, what the fuck do you have on my head!” Erik played with the strands while turning his head from side to side, “I look like James Brown, AYE!!!!”
Y/N was in stitches when he mimicked James Brown in the mirror. She fell back against her bed hollering from the way he looked.
“Nah, I’m not drunk right now I need to be drunk to enjoy this,” Erik leaned into the mirror, “I look better than half the bitches that come in here to get their hair done. Let me find out.”
“You are so STUPID!!!!” Y/N yelled between giggles.
“I’ll be back,” Erik left the room with the wig swaying from side to side since it wasn’t fully secure.
“Where are you going?!” Y/N shouted from the bed.
Erik didn’t respond to her loud voice. When he returned two minutes later he had a cup in one hand and his bottle of Hennessy in the other. Erik sat both the cup and the bottle on Y/N’s cluttered dresser to make himself a drink.
“This was supposed to be a quick thing now you’re drinking.”
Y/N watched Erik from her relaxed spot on the bed. Erik took two sips of his drink before standing in front of her mirror again.
“What are you doing?!”
Y/N couldn’t even finish her words when Erik started shimmying his shoulders and snapping his fingers to a soundless beat. Hooting with laughter Y/N could feel wetness on her cheeks.
“IM DONE!!!”
“This shit give bad bitches super powers.” Erik said
“Let me find out you wanna wear a weave now.” Y/N jokes.
Erik brought his cup to his lips and drank more Hennessy while moving his hips. This was too good not to get a video. With Erik being his usual silly self, Y/N snatched up her phone from the floor before pulling up her Instagram to record him. On her story, Y/N focused the camera on her boyfriend when he started singing the lyrics to Lady Marmalade.
“Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, da da. Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, here!!”
“Oh my God!!” Y/N cried out with a chuckle before ending the video. She uploaded it to her story before quickly tossing her phone towards the end of the bed.
“Creole Lady Marmalade!!!!!!!!”
“You hardly had anything to drink and you’re acting like this? Lord.”
“Aight, I’m done for now,” Erik made his way back over to Y/N with his cup, “put on a movie or something.”
“Ohhhhhh!!! So you’re asking me to pick this time?! I get to make a decision, Erik?! Wowwwwwwwww!!!”
“Girl, shut up.”
Y/N chose a random movie for background noise while she finished. She was surprised at how content he was and it made her consider asking him to help more in the future. It was fun and it made her laugh. That’s one thing about Erik that she adores. He matches her sense of humor. Y/N heard a vibration and when she glanced over to look at her phone the screen is still black. Between her legs she could see Erik staring at a text message from his Lock Screen
“What the fuck is this nigga talking ‘bout.”
“Erik keep still—”
“Nigga who is Miss Man?!”
Y/N paused to peer over Erik’s shoulder.
“This nigga just called me Miss Man from Scary Movie.”
Erik tapped on the microphone on his keyboard to speak.
“Who the fuck randomly texts somebody that at 11 PM? Fucking weirdo ass nigga. Let me find out you want Miss Man for yourself.”
“Who is Miss Man— OH! The PE teacher that was sniffing the underwear?!!! hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!”
“This nigga...he said all you need is the underwear, skirt, nails, and makeup—wait.”
“And some long ass balls!!” Y/N snickered.
Erik whipped his head around and when Y/N met his fiery eyes she swallowed her laugh and it left an uncomfortable lump in her throat.
“Did you post me online wearing this wig, Y/N?”
“No.”
“I’m gonna ask you again. Did you post me online in this wig?
“Mm—mm. I did no such thing.”
“Then let me see your phone.”
Erik reached out for Y/N’s phone but she snatched it away. Erik moved his head to the side to flip some of the wig hair form his face but it fell forward again disobeying him.
“Did I? Uhhhh—OKAY OKAY!!”
It happened so fast. Erik has Y/N by the waist and up in the air.
“Yes, I did!! I’ll delete it.”
“You don’t listen to shit I tell you to do—”
“It was cute! You looked cute with it on—”
“You know what’s about to happen right?! I told you not to do that shit!”
“Erik, it’s all in fun. I’ll get rid of it—”
“That shit is embarrassing! What if I posted you online at your worse?”
“I don’t have a bad moment I always look good.” Y/N sasses.
“Says the girl that always complains about me taking off guard pics.”
“Erik, you’re not even at your worse. You act like I posted you looking bummy!”
Y/N kept her word and went to Instagram to delete. When she got there, she was met with at least ten DMs replying to her story.
Corythemua_: gurllll who is that? 👀 ooooh he is fione!!! Is he into guys?
Jermaine_87: Wtf is he doing?! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 let me text this nigga
Katriceee: how did you convince him to do this?! LOL
Amethyst1993: when he find out about this you are in trouble girl!!!
“did you delete the video yet?! Don’t let me find out it’s still there!”
“It’s gone! Happy?! What happened to being in a playing mood?!!”
“Now all my friends texting me and clowning me! You play too many games. Hurry up and help me take this shit off!”
Erik brushed some strands from his lips with his fingertips and Y/N squealed. Nothing he could say or do would make her listen. He looked absolutely hilarious with the wavy tresses of the wig moving in tandem with his brawny physique.
“Erik, I can’t take you seriously with that wig on.”
“Then take this off!!”
Erik attempts to pull it off but suddenly stops when he realizes he needs help.
“I want this shit off now, Y/N.”
“FINE! Come here.”
Y/N tapped the floor with her foot for Erik to take a seat. When he does, Y/N does the opposite of what he asks and begins to place his hair into two buns. She silently laughed behind him, praying that he wouldn’t hear her falling apart. When she was finished, Erik assumed she was done because he didn’t feel the hair tickling his skin. When he stood up to look in the mirror, Erik groaned loudly at his appearance before flexing his jaw at her threateningly to make her listen. It didn’t work at all for him. She couldn’t stop laughing.
“You look so crazy!!!!!” Y/N hugged her sides and rolled on the bed with laughter, “And that evil look is making it even funnier!!”
“I’m about to beat your ass if you don’t take this shit off!!! It wouldn’t be funny if this shit stuck now would it?!!! I gotta go to work and all that nah take this off—
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”
“Aight, are you finished?!” Erik said impatiently.
“Baby...you don’t understand...oh my God.”
“Y/N, for real, take this dumb ass wig off before I cut it off!”
“Okay okay!! Before I do...you gotta do one last thing for me...pretty please? With caramel sauce and a cherry on top? I’ll do whatever you want if you do this last thing for me.”
“.....”
“PLEASE BABY?!!”
“.....”
“Erik, look, it’ll be funny! I just want you to cat walk for me and then I’m done—”
“Ahhhhh HELL no—”
“Please—”
“For what?! So you can keep laughing?!”
“I’ll suck your dick, lick your balls—”
“Girl, that won’t work on me—”
“You sure about that?”
Y/N poked her tongue out and started doing tricks with it to show off her tongue ring. Erik’s eyes squinted at her but she could tell from his breathing that he wouldn’t be able to fight it much longer. He even said so himself that her head game makes him weak and no woman before her has ever made him weak.
“...from here to the bed and that’s it.”
Y/N smiled victoriously.
Erik placed his hands on his tapered waistline before lowering his head. Y/N could hear him silently laughing to himself before he lifted his head displaying an adorable dimpled smile. He started strutting towards Y/N with stiff hips and two left feet. All this from her flicking her tongue. Y/N stared at him with her mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He had a focused look on his face and the wig with its two buns flopped up and down messily like bunny ears. He struck a pose with his hip jutted out before he started to vogue. At that point, Y/N couldn’t take it any longer. She had to grab onto Erik so she could catch her breath. Soon, Erik’s deep laugh could be heard.
“You get on my nerves,” Erik sat beside Y/N, “now, can you take this off of me?!”
“Turn around,” Y/N took down the buns before carefully sliding the wig off from front to back, “You’re off the hook after that I’m gonna go back to using this mannequin head.”
“Yeah, finish up so I can spank that ass for posting me on social media.”
Y/N did a double take, “I’m still in trouble?!”
“Yeah, you’re not off the hook.”
The remaining time Y/N finished her clients wig, she thought up all possible ways he could punish her this time.
“Can I have a kiss?” Y/N asked with a sweet sounding voice.
“Yes,” Erik poked his thick, moist lips out and Y/N pressed her soft lips against them.
“Mmm...still in trouble, ma,” Erik whispered.
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Just One Mission (Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Champagne’s Daughter!Reader)
Inspo: I Like It, I Love It by Tim McGraw
Summary: Your father, Champ, runs Statesman, and you’re his best- and only- female agent. Your normal partner, Tequila, is out, leaving you with another agent. Normally this would be fine, but it’s with Whiskey, who practically ignores you, despite the fact that you’re crushing hard on him. You’re sent to the county fair to track an undercover bad guy under the guise of being a couple for your latest mission, and it starts to feel more and more like something is happening, not just between your fictional couple.
WC: 5.1k
Warnings: language, obvious mentions of alcohol (this is Statesman after all)
A/N: Can I get a yeehaw for our favorite cowboy? Biggest of thank yous to @remmysbounty for helping me name this!
“You can’t be serious. Why can’t anything ever be straightforward around here? Why do I always have to go play make-believe?” You asked, pushing your glasses back up your nose to clarify his hologram. You move from where you stand, against the window showing the New York skyline, to walk towards the meeting table.
Champ gives a chuckle, as if he knows everything. Of course he does. He’s your boss and he never fails to make that known. “You came into this job knowing you’d be doing undercover work, Amaretto,” Champ says with a pointed look. You bite down on your lip to avoid cussing and look down to avoid his eyes. “Plus, you’re our best. And our only lady.”
“Whose fault is that?” you grumble, crossing your arms. Normally it doesn’t bother you much, but today you wished more women worked in the field. “Why can’t I go with Tequila? Him and I work well together, you know that,” you ask, hating your voice and your tone. You sound like a whiny teen complaining to her dad. Honestly, it was close enough, and maybe even worse: you were a fully grown woman complaining to her dad.
Your father, Champ, sighs and removes his hat. “For God’s sake, ‘Retto. Tequila’s mission has been extended. I’m sorry to tell you that Agent Whiskey will be your partner for just one mission, for one night.”
“Dad, I-”
“That’s Champ when you’re in here, Amaretto,” he chides, which makes you groan and plop down on an office chair, kicking your legs up onto the table and crossing them. “It’s a small mission. You can handle it. Whiskey’ll treat you right.”
As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you knew you could handle it. You would be more than fine pretending to be Whiskey’s sweetheart for the evening. It was what came after that you didn’t want. You had known Jack for a while now, and had been hiding a crush ever since the man first entered your life.
You had been a Statesman ever since your father revealed to you that he wasn’t just the head of the Kentucky distillery- he was the head of a spy organization under the same name. Your career here hadn’t been long, but you were already proving that the skills must run in the family. You were the first female field agent, had a perfect mission record, and no unnecessary kills or injuries. That impressed Jack as much as the rest of the facility, maybe even more. You were a stunning and sharp woman with brains to match.
As much as Whiskey wanted to flirt with you, to tell you just what he thought of you, he held back. Your father held his job by a string. In order to hold back everything he thought, he kept a distance. You were the only woman in the company Whiskey didn’t flirt with. “He hates me,” you say sharply to your father, telling him what you really thought Whiskey’s opinion of you was. He complimented every woman around him, but he actively avoided you. When you had talked in the past, it was brief and he had always found an excuse to leave. How else could you take that?
“Prob’ly just jitters around the boss’s girl,” your father drawls, and you want to scream and shout and throw a temper tantrum. “Besides, you both have roles. Neither of you have to be yourself.”
Stopping you before you can launch into a rant, a knock comes at the meeting room door. You look and- speak of the devil- Whiskey peeks his head in, finding you alone in the meeting room. “Sorry. Heard ya talking, you in a meeting?”
Your father laughs as he hears the man’s voice. “Tell him to put on the glasses,” he tells you, only audible through your earpiece. You relay the message to him and once Jack’s glasses are on, he straightens a little, addressing your father. “Good to see you, Whiskey. Just telling Amaretto about the mission,” Champ tells him, and you roll your eyes.
“Right, that mission. Next week?” He asks, clarifying, eyes darting to you briefly before finding your father again.
“You got it.” A knock comes at the meeting room in Kentucky, and your father turns for a moment, then back to the two of you. “Ginger’s callin’. Talk to you later, darlin’, and you too, Whiskey.” He takes off his glasses and the image of him disappears.
You remove your legs from the table, swiveling your chair and removing your glasses. “How exciting, huh?” You ask dryly, eyes finding Whiskey’s. “The hottest week of the summer and he’s sending us to Alabama to spend a night outside.”
Jack chuckles a little, your sarcasm penetrating through the shield he has up specifically to deflect you. “At the county fair, no less. Couldn’t these idiots set up shop in a refrigerated warehouse?” He sighs, adjusting his hat.
Tearing your eyes from him, you look out of the impressive window instead. “Sure to be a fun time,” you shake your head. He looks so handsome, and it makes you want to punch something. “Why my father loves to put me in these situations, I’ll never know. He’d never do this to Julep,” you lament. “I must be the expendable kid.”
“Julep is 17,” Whiskey reminds you, raising a brow. “You’re the only one of age, and you’re probably the only competent one too. He showed me a video of Rosé at the gun range and good Lord, how the hell did a man like that birth something so clumsy?”
“Why do you know so much about my sisters?” You ask him, tilting your head.
“Your father never shuts up about ‘em. He shows them off constantly,” he shrugs. “Shows us videos, pictures. Even knew plenty about you before you came.” You raise an eyebrow at that, and he shakes his head quickly. “Barely anything personal. Hell, I don’t know your real name. He’s never called you or your sisters anything but your nicknames.”
You stand, gathering the folder you brought into the room with you. “Well, that’s a comfort. I’m not Champ’s daughter, I’m Agent Amaretto, and that’s the way I’d like to keep it,” you say, your voice slipping away from sharp and into flirtation. Whiskey’s deadpan slips into a smile and you press the folder into his chest as you walk past him, and out of the room. The smile grows wider as he turns to follow you.
-
Whiskey was right. It’s the hottest week of the summer, the August heat making you feel sticky and swollen, and you’re in Alabama. Disgusting. You look in the mirror and groan as you look at yourself. You were told that you and Jack need to blend into the atmosphere of the county fair, and you sighed.
The past week, the two of you had prepped for your mission, slowly melting the thick layer of ice that subdued both your crush and his flirtation. He had slowly slipped into his regular self around you, which you didn’t notice. You didn’t know the real him. You had become more of yourself too; less sharp, more smiles, even a few laughs at his terrible southern euphemisms and adages. He finally called you darlin’ and sugar and sweet thing, and you felt your face warm more than it should. You let your walls down by the time you got on the plane, joking around with him and making actual conversation. During the flight, the two of you had enjoyed picking cover names, deciding on Beau and Jolene Pruitt, a newly married couple. Both were native Alabamians with thick drawls, not that it would be out of character for Jack.
Getting to wear casual clothing around that man excited you far more than it should, and you had spent a stupid amount of time picking out something that would fit in but also look nice. The wardrobe women had packed you plenty of options to mix and match from, and you settled on something that seemed to be a mix between your cover and yourself. You wore short denim cutoffs, ripped and distressed, with cowboy boots to match. You also wore a white tank top and a red, white, and blue flannel, either to be worn open or tied around your waist. A large gold cross pendant rested on your cleavage, as many women around here similarly had. It was imperative that neither you nor Whiskey could be recognized, and you had been given a wig of thick hair the opposite of your natural color, plaited into two French braids that were long and ended around your waist. No mission was complete without your gold, wire-rimmed Statesman glasses.
You have to admit, you enjoy this look, minus the gaudy jewelry. You get to show off a little bit more than you normally would, and you secretly hope Whiskey may up his flirtation with you. You’re recognizable to someone who would know you, but the change of hair color and the glasses are a solid cover-up. You snap a picture in the mirror, sending it off to the ladies in the wardrobe department. you ladies spoil me- I love getting to look cute for a change!
The women reply a moment later with a picture of all of them. You’re always cute, sugar! Show that man what he’s missing!
So, maybe you had confided to the wardrobe ladies that you found Jack attractive. Who didn’t? They agreed, but all showered you with attention and insisted you should make a move on this mission. You had said no, but they had hounded you over and over until you told them yes. It was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that.
A knock comes at your hotel door, and you smile before you can stop yourself. You force yourself to drop it, tossing one of the braided tails over your shoulder, and open the door. “Well there, Beau,” you drawl as you see Whiskey, but you stop and laugh a little as you scan his body.
His reaction is the exact same, after a brief scan of your outfit. You both break into laughter. Jack is wearing cowboy boots, jeans, a white t-shirt, and a flannel with a different pattern but the same colors- red, white, and blue. “Stealing my thunder with the outfit, I see. Are you going to put your costume on or what?” You ask teasingly, and he shakes his head.
“Believe it or not, Jolene, this is my costume. Seems the only different thing about being Beau is my name.” He grins wide at you, adjusting his similarly gold-rimmed aviators that rest beneath his classic Stetson.
You shake your head but smile. “Why am I not surprised?” You tease, turning and grabbing your phone and the large bulletproof purse you’d be carrying tonight. “The ladies in the wardrobe department are going to love this,” you chuckle, and then freeze for a second.
They did this on purpose.
Whiskey has the same thought as you. He had confided in the ladies in the wardrobe department that he found you absolutely stunning but unattainable, due to the fact that your father was the control of his… everything. They had chattered excitedly, telling him that he should make his move on the mission too. He had done the exact same as you- said yes, but as an appeasement. “Well, they sure are. We’ll have to get someone to take a picture of us while we’re there.”
You nod, your heart skipping a beat at the fact that he wants a photo of this. It’s just for the mission, of course, you tell yourself and brush it off. “Oh, and that’ll be perfect cover. Of course these two would want a photo taken of them. We can do it right in front of the marks- better yet, we can ask them to take the picture,” you chuckle happily and sling the heavy purse over your body.
“Or we can take a picture now,” he chuckles, nodding to the mirror you just took a picture in a moment ago.
“Sure,” you nod and lead him over to it. “Uh… smile?” You laugh and hold out your flannel for the photo. Jack makes finger guns and gives the camera a seductive face in the mirror, making you laugh. “Jesus, I thought you were the smooth agent.”
“Smoother than you. You’re smooth like a gravel road in a dry spell, look at that pose,” he says and zooms in on the picture. “Pose like you have some confidence in that pretty little head, honey,” he teases. “Copy me.” He makes the same pose, and you mimic it, taking a picture before bursting out laughing. “Much better,” he nods as he looks at the image. “Better send me that,” he nudges your side before walking to the door. “Well, Jo, let’s get this show on the road.”
Smiling at the picture, you send the image to the wardrobe ladies. very subtle, Charlotte! You fire off before pocketing your phone and following him along. “Aw, Jo and Beau,” you coo, your personas snapping into place as soon as you leave the hotel room, clutching his arm.
The two of you meander down through the hotel, finding your way to the parking lot. You break away from him to sit in the Bronco (of course he brought it) but you find yourself missing the contact of your arms intertwined. It’s probably for the best though, you think to yourself. If you have to keep touching him all night, it’s quite possible the Alabama heat may melt whatever’s left of the iceberg you’ve built to hold back your crush on him.
-
A man bumps into you, and Whiskey is at your defense before you can defend yourself. “Watch it, cowboy,” Jack fires back, his hand resting on the small of your back. You smile up at him, practically making heart eyes. It looks in character, and you’re glad for that, but it’s entirely you.
“My hero,” you giggle and place your hand on his chest.
“Just for you, sugar,” he says sweetly and you beam up at him. He looks around, as you do, but the two of you rest there. It’s hot, unbearably, but yet you enjoy the contact your body makes with his. Both of you wear your flannels around your waist, allowing your grip on his arm to hold his strong muscles directly. It’s definitely enjoyable. “You hungry, honey?” He asks.
You have to admit, you haven’t eaten much today, mainly out of nerves for the mission. But everything is going just swimmingly: you have eyes on the target, have a plan to infiltrate them later, and are now just biding time to seem normal. “I… yeah, I am,” you nod and look up at him. “How ‘bout some cotton candy?”
“Now, darlin’, if you’re hungry, that ain’t gonna do the trick,” he says and raises an eyebrow, removing his aviators and hooking them on his collar. “This is the county fair, for cryin’ out loud. Let’s get you something deep fried.” You nod in agreement and the two of you wander over to a stand selling various deep-fried atrocities. You smile and chuckle, letting him order for the two of you. The vendor hands you each a ridiculously large corn dog, and you laugh.
The smell of the food makes your stomach growl. “Oh god, I didn’t realize just how hungry I was,” you moan as you bite into the food, your thick accent dropping. “Good choice, babe,” you tell him, smiling at how easily it comes.
“I know you, sugar,” he teases, leading you to a picnic table where he sits across from you, munching on his own. No one else is around here, allowing you to speak freely. “Really, I do. I found out your real name the other day,” he says with a smile, and you nearly choke on the breading, halfway down your throat. He finally says your name aloud, drawing it out, making it sound like it’s coated in honey and dripping with flirtation.
You look down at your food, biting your lip. “Who told you that?” you ask, still staring down.
Jack chuckles at that, ignoring the question. “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he teases, and you chuckle, shaking your head. The flirtation is much better than the stone-cold silence before a week ago, but it doesn’t do anything for the growing crush you have on the man. “Champ must’ve known you’d be a stunner.”
“Have you heard of nominative determinism?” you ask as you look up, tilting your head and twirling one of the long braids of your wig around your finger. The words sound funny with the thick accent you’re putting on. Whiskey shakes his head. “It’s this theory that your name shapes who you become. So, if you said that my name was chosen for beauty, I would grow to become my name, so I’d be beautiful.” He nods a little at that. “Do you believe in that kind of thing?” you ask him genuinely, tilting your head and taking another bite of the corn dog.
“Clearly,” he chuckles through a mouthful of food before swallowing it. “Your name is pretty, you’re pretty. Someone has a name with a bad reputation, they become it.”
“Your mama named you Jack Daniels, you become Agent Whiskey,” you tease with a growing smile, accentuating that drawl that you’ve perfectly picked up from your father and the mustached man in front of you. “I’ve thought about that a lot with you. Did they assign you that name because of your name? My dad never talked about work with us before I became an agent.”
Whiskey shakes his head at you but does give a laugh. “Prob’ly, just thought it’d be funny, I ‘spose. They needed a new Agent Whiskey anyway, I believe. Last one died or retired, they never told me. Filling the vacancy while making a pun out of it. Your father has a sense of humor, doesn’t he? ‘S sure great at givin’ nicknames.”
You shake your head at that. “Don’t I know it. He’s been calling me Amaretto since I could give him sass back. Told me I was a little bitter, just like the word means in Italian. Julep’s too sweet, Rosé is a mix of gentle and bold. No one calls us by our real names unless we’re in trouble,” you chuckle. “You should hear my mama shout when Julep gets in trouble. She nearly shakes the house, and Julep likes to avoid it by pretending she can’t hear her. She’ll hide in her room, and my mama just shouts and shouts until the neighbors come over to make sure the family’s all still alive. It’s in a loving way, of course, nothing bad.” You shake your head, clearing the topic from yourself. “But it’s like your mama knew you’d get into something with alcohol. That’s odd.”
Jack chuckles and takes the last bite of his food. He doesn’t respond, just cleans up his little area and waits for you to be done, watching you with his chin resting in his palm. You smile as you notice that, looking away, and he does too. The two of you stand and walk along again. He offers his hand, to hold it, and you take it. You’re not entirely sure that he did that as Beau, and you’re certain you didn’t take his hand as Jolene.
Walking through the midway, you catch your mark out of the corner of your eye. “Go time,” you murmur to the man, dropping his hand. “Sir,” you ask and pat the man’s shoulder as he walks past. He stops and you shoot him a cheesy, massive grin. “Hi there, would you mind takin’ a picture for my husband and I?”
The man nods. “Sure, ma’am. Where do you-”
“Oh wonderful. Here,” you say and position the man, handing him your phone, then move back to stand by Jack. “Beau, honey, here,” you say as you position the two of you for the camera. You wrap his arm around your waist and place your hand on his chest, grinning ear to ear. He’s doing the same.
“How ‘bout this?” he asks, swooping you up and holding you bridal style.
You squeal into his ear, laughing. You almost call him by his real name but stop yourself. “Beau, quit!” You giggle and smack his chest teasingly, playing along with it and smiling for the photo. He lets you down only to pick you up again, hoisting you onto his back, piggyback style. Finding no other choice, you wrap your arms and legs around him, and he rests his hands on your thighs to hold you up. “Beau Pruitt!” You exclaim, emphasizing the words, hoping that the man taking your photos registers the name, knowing it’s not someone threatening. He’d probably take your phone and run if he heard you call the man holding you up by his real name.
He finally lets you down and you thank the man, taking the phone back and continuing to walk along, naturally lacing your fingers through Jack’s. “What was that?” you ask lowly, smiling despite the pretend annoyance in your voice.
“Playin’ the part, sugar,” he shrugs and smiles at you. As you wander through the midway, Jack’s eye catches on a brightly colored, massive teddy bear hanging from the rafters. When Jack gets a plan, he goes all in. “You know what, honey, if this is to be a proper date, I am gonna win you a teddy bear,” he chuckles, grabbing his wallet.
You quickly push the hand holding his wallet down. “Don’t be ridiculous, babe. I don’t need a teddy bear,” you laugh.
“I am takin’ you on a date to the county fair. It’s only fitting that I win you a teddy bear!” He argues back, laughing. He hands a bill to the attendant, earning him quite a few balls to toss at the stacked milk jugs. “Here we go. This is for the big, tie-dye one up there,” he declares before hurling a ball.
It hits the top jug and Jack winces. “Ah fuck. Bad shoulder,” he chuckles, picking up another.
“Then why the hell are you doing this, Beau?” you ask, catching yourself before you can call him Jack and holding down his arm. “I don’t need the teddy bear!”
“I already paid the attendant,” he chuckles and leans in to your face, taunting you. He uses your distraction to slip his arm from your grasp, throwing it and hitting the second row of bottles. “Hell yeah!” Jack crows excitedly, arms in the air. You laugh at his excitement and decide to let it happen.
He throws three more balls before he knocks down the whole final row, whooping excitedly. “That one, if you please,” he tells the attendant and points to the large bear hanging from the ceiling of the booth. The attendant takes it down and hands it to him, and he promptly hands it to you, beaming. “For you, my dear,” he says, pride radiating from him.
“I love it,” you laugh and hug the massive bear to your chest, kissing its forehead. “I think I’ll name him… Whiskey.”
He grins at that and takes your hand again, leading you through the crowd.
-
The rest of the night passes more like a date would than a mission. You and Jack converse happily, simply avoiding real names but talking like you would between friends. His hand rests in yours the whole night, and you enjoy it. The sun begins to go down and the humidity lessens, as does the stifling heat. It’s almost cool now; the both of you wear your flannels properly now, unbuttoned in the front. You munch contently on some cotton candy you finally convinced Jack to buy, even feeding him some to further your ruse. Sighing, you look around and take in the absolute perfection that is this tiny county fair. The sunset is beautiful and the lights of the carnival section are starting to come on. You start to speak until you hear a too-familiar voice through your earpiece.
“Amaretto, Whiskey. They set up shop in the pig barn, but they’re at their most vulnerable. Time to move.”
You both groan as you hear your father’s voice. You look down at your interlocked hands between the two of you, then up quickly, remembering. Your father can see what you see with these glasses on. His voice comes in through your earpiece alone now. “See, I told ya it wouldn’t be so bad to spend a little time with Whiskey. I’ve noticed you’re not hating it.”
You shake your head and pull out your earpiece, tucking it in your pocket and murmuring a curse to your father. Jack notices and you simply shrug. “Wasn’t working right. You’re gonna have to relay the messages for me.”
He nods then pauses, listening. He chuckles and turns to you. “He says to put it back in, he knows you can hear him just fine.”
You groan and put it back in with a frown. “Next time you want to have family dinner, count on one less plate,” you hiss through the piece, making both Jack and your father laugh. “Whatever, get us to the pig barn then.”
Your father guides the two of you through your mission. They’re indeed at their weakest, just four men loading their van with their backs to you. Luckily, they’re the four that Statesman wants. You and Whiskey each easily take out two, leaving them tranquilized on the ground. “Pops, they’re good. Send in the recon van.” A few moments later, the van rushes in through the utility door, and two recon members load the men into the van. You and Whiskey give them a nod, smiling at them and thanking them before leaving the barn.
The voice comes through on just your earpiece again. “Take the rest of the night off. I know you want to.”
He’s right, you do want to, and so for once, you listen to your damn father. “The rest of the night is up to us,” you say as you turn to Whiskey, removing your earpiece and your glasses and putting them in your bag. You reach for his earpiece, taking it out too, both of you almost shivering at the contact of your wrist to his cheek as you take it out. Jack catches your palm and plants a kiss to it and you grin. “Would you like to stick around, maybe go on some rides?” you ask and put away his earpiece before sliding your hand into his. “As Whiskey and Amaretto?”
Jack grins at you. “I thought you’d never ask.”
The rest of the evening is spent on rides and eating ice cream, getting squished into Jack’s side on the Scrambler and flipped around on the Slingshot. You both laugh practically all night, overjoyed. You check your watch and look up excitedly, eyes lighting. “The fireworks are gonna go off in ten minutes.” You look at the wait for the ferris wheel- it’s about as long. “Let’s go on the ferris wheel to watch it.”
Jack nods. “Whatever you say, sugar,” he nods, lagging for a moment as you start to run to the next ride, then catching up and pulling you into his chest, kissing your head. You laugh at the feeling of being trapped in his arms and wrap your arms around him too, allowing the bear hug to last a moment longer than it should.
The both of you wait in line for a few minutes, continuing the conversation you’d been having before.
The line eventually shortens enough for the two of you to get on, and you sit, hands on the lap bar. Whiskey sits next to you, draping his arm across your shoulders. You look up at him and smile, scooting into his side. You give a little whoop of excitement as the ride starts moving, and you jump at a loud bang.
You timed it perfectly.
The sky lights with different colors, a variety of fireworks lighting off and illuminating the dark night sky. The stars are clear all the way out here, in the middle of Alabama, and you beam at the image. You pull out your phone to snap some pictures but Jack holds your hand down. “The pictures never do it justice, darlin’. Just look up at those and remember ‘em real hard.”
Laughing softly, you rest your head on Jack’s shoulder as you watch. It’s stunning, absolutely gorgeous, and you look at Jack for a moment to find he’s not watching the sky, but has his eyes trained on your face, watching your reaction.
The moment is perfect. He can handle the rejection, he decides, if he has to, but he has to move now. “Can I kiss you, Amaretto?” He murmurs quietly, his face already moving close to yours. You give an answer in the form of a gesture: taking his face in your hands and closing the gap. The kiss is perfect, his soft lips tasting of the cotton candy you finally persuaded him to buy a few hours ago.
He sighs softly, his hand finding the side of your face as well. He breaks away for a moment and looks at your lovely face, grinning at the way your eyes reflect only his face, the dark night sky, and the colorful fireworks. “I think your pops named you wrong. Furthest thing from bitter. You’re the sweetest, most perfect thing I ever did taste,” he drawls before closing the space again, pressing his lips to yours. Your heart pounds in time with the bursts in the sky, erratic and loud, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re finally kissing the man you’ve been crushing on since the moment your father introduced you to the Statesman.
A particularly loud firework startles you and you jump, breaking your kiss and grinning at him, the adrenaline from both the scare and the kiss pounding its way through your body. You look at him and want to say something but can’t find the words. You simply giggle and look into his eyes, making him laugh too. You sit there for a moment, laughing, while the ferris wheel stays stationary. As it moves, you cling to his chest again, looking up and beaming at him. “Kiss me again, cowboy,” you demand, and he chuckles.
“Any time, sugar,” he says with a smile as he takes your chin in his hand and kisses you again.
#agent whiskey x reader#jack daniels x reader#agent jack daniels x reader#Pedro Pascal#pedro pascal x reader#agent jack whiskey daniels x reader#agent jack whiskey daniels#kingsman: the golden circle#agent jack daniels#pedro pascal fanfiction#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#i am a simp#agent whiskey
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Can ya do like smut like exhibition kink with Tom and mean dom Tom x reader pls 🥺
i made this a halloween blurb––surprise!
you didn’t really understand the reality of the whole clark kent/superman disguise until tonight. you were wearing a black cat costume, the bodysuit, the wig, the mask and all, and no one seemed to recognize you––which you were grateful for, because halloween was supposed to be a fun night and you didn’t want to spend it worrying about the paparazzi catching and exposing you.
tom, of course, decided to be spider-man, and he even wore one of his actual suits from the movie––the stealth one to be precise, it just matched more with your costume. and how he managed to convince the studio to let him borrow it? you had no idea. but you weren’t complaining. he looked hot. and so did you.
to be completely honest you weren’t too sure who’s party this was exactly, but you saw a few familiar faces, z, harry and harrison were around somewhere so you weren’t too worried.
so far you’d been having a great time––it was honestly comical seeing people notice you and make comments that were a little bit ironic.
“hey dude!” one over enthusiastic guy had shouted over the music when he approached you and tom, “night monkey! haha dope man, super realistic too––”
tom had squeezed your waist as if to say, if only he knew. but he responded, amused, “haha thanks man, appreciate it!”
you could tell tom was smiling behind the mask, since his goggles were up, you could see his eyes crinkled as he looked at the young man––but that soon changed when he kept talking. his eyes shifted to you and a smirk appeared on his face, “and i mean black cat––” he paused to look you up and down, his eyes lingering a little too long on the exposed skin of your chest. “wow i mean, you are one lucky spider,” he looked back to tom who was now less than amused, his eyes staring dead at him.
“trust me,” his voice was clipped, “i know,” he pulled you closer to him, his fingers digging into your waist through the skin tight leather. you quickly thanked the man, not wanting to cause a scene since he was clearly drunk, and pulled tom away to get a drink.
when you settled down with your drinks by the counter, you took a sip and stared at tom sensually over the rim of your cup, deciding to have a little fun––it was halloween after all.
he could see in your eyes that you were planning something and he warned you not to play any games tonight––you could tell he wasn’t going to be nice if you did. so of course you just had to.
just as he pulled his mask back down after downing his drink, you stepped closer to him, practically nuzzling into him like a cat. you slid one hand up behind his neck and lifted your thigh up, making tom grip your leg to steady you. you nuzzled your face into the side of his mask and giggled sinfully, “no need to be mad tommy, you know i’m all yours” you slid a hand down, biting your lip, “but tell me,” you grabbed his bulge, knowing it was sensitive since he decided to go bare tonight, “how you holding up in there?”
you barely heard him growl over the music, before he grabbed your hand and dragged you upstairs to find a vacant room. you could feel your heart racing, the wind blowing past you as he pulled you along. it wasn’t long before he found a room, quickly ushering you inside and locking the door.
you could see him scanning the room, but what he was looking for, you had no idea. he made his way over to the window and opened the curtains, before pulling his mask off and throwing it aside. you made your way over to him and looked out the window, noticing all the people scattered in the backyard. none of them were paying attention, but if anyone were to look up, you’d be right there, getting your back blown out.
he smirked as he watched you going through all these thoughts––he’d never put you in an uncomfortable situation, he knew you liked this. he wasted no time and pulled the zipper of your costume down, exposing your breasts. he squeezed them, the almost harsh material in comparison to his soft fingertips contrasting on your skin, making your nipples pebble immediately. he tugged them harshly before grabbed your cheeks with one hand, and your throat with the other and you gasped.
“you don’t get to touch,” he completely disregarded your pout, “you don’t even get to look at me.” he turned you around and pushed you against the window.
“why even lock the door if we’re doing this in front of the window?” you couldn’t help but ask. you felt him come up behind you and whisper in your ear and your breath hitched.
“they can watch me pound this little pussy, and see exactly who you belong to––but there’s no way in hell i’m letting anyone interrupt me while i put you in your place.”
he slid the material down your arms and pushed it past your ass. you could hear him suck in a breath at the surprise you had for him.
“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered to himself. you shook your bare ass eagerly for him, teasing him even further.
“thought you’d be lonely if you were the only one going commando. didn’t wanna let you have all the fun––”
he cut you off with a loud smack on your ass and you whimpered. “always have to be such a fucking tease don’t you?” he wrapped his hand around your throat from behind, “always such a. needy. slut.”
you felt yourself shiver from his words and before you could even respond, he bent down and spread your cheeks before burying his face in you. you sighed and clutched the window sill for support, pressing your face against the cold glass. tom’s tongue quickly made it’s way through your folds, the wet slurping noises were deafening but you were way too far gone to be embarrassed. he was eagerly licking you up, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he sucked on your clit.
at first, you were glancing out the window, worrying about whether or not people would see you, but as tom went on, you stopped caring. he was hitting all the right places in all the right ways, going straight to make you cum, instead of taking his time as usual. soon, you were ready to tip over the edge. you whined, gripping the window harder. “m’gonna cum tom––”
without so much as a warning, he pulled away from you, his hand coming up to smack you once again when you made a sound of protest. luckily for tom, they managed to put a zip in this suit so he easily pulled himself out and immediately thrust himself inside of you. you gasped and within seconds, he was pounding into you, his fingers dug into your waist as he pulled you back to him from the force of his thrusts.
“f–fuck tommy!”
“yeah that’s right,” he brought a hand around to squeeze at your breast before bringing it back to it’s spot on your waist, “say my name, let everyone know who you belong to.”
you whined and his thrusts got even harder and faster. your fingers were pressed up against the glass as you looked out at everyone, oblivious underneath you both. you were panting so much, you could see the condensation start to form on the window, and tom noticed as well.
“aww is my dumb little kitty being fucked so good she can’t even breathe properly?”
you moaned at his degrading words and you could tell he was smirking at the sight of you. “that’s it, just stay there and get my cock wet. that’s all your good for tonight.”
he pressed you further into the window so your breasts were pushed up against the glass, and the cold was both refreshing and shocking against your skin, hard nipples pebbled against the glass. the fact that anyone would be able to clearly see you was both embarrassing and exhilarating.
“christ-–”
you could tell tom was close, “you gonna cum in me baby?”
“you want me to cum in that messy pussy, darling?”
you nodded as best you could with your head against the glass.
“aww well that’s too bad.” he pulled out, stroking himself slowly to calm himself down. “sluts don’t get what they want.”
before you could complain, he spoke up, and it was probably for the best. “on your knees, come on.”
you turned around and lowered yourself in front of his cock, the leather bunched around your knees, restricting your movements. you looked up at him and he bit his lip, speeding up his movements. “open up.”
you licked your lips and opened your mouth eagerly, ready to be good, hoping he’d let you cum. he slid himself into your inviting mouth and groaned at the feeling of how wet and warm you were.
“can you taste yourself on my cock, darling?” you nodded as best you could around him, “can you taste how much of a slut you are?” you moaned and he chuckled at how desperate you sounded.
“gonna use this pretty little mouth of yours––” he started thrusting into your mouth slowly as you bobbed your head, “and you’re gonna stay there like the cock hungry whore you are and take it.”
you were licking, slurping and sucking his cock the way he liked, your hands on your lap, barely even acknowledging the burn you felt in your thighs as they stretched the leather.
tom put his hands on your cheeks and looked you in the eyes as he got close again, “you gonna swallow all my cum like a good girl?” you hummed and he cursed, closing his eyes as he thrusted into your mouth, his cock throbbing as he shot his load down your throat. “f––fuck, that’s it.” he thrusted slowly a few more times before pulling out and rubbing the tip along your parted lips. “go on,” his eyes were glaring at you, daring you to defy him.
you looked up at him innocently and swallowed it all, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out to show him and even going so far as to licking a stripe up his cock and sucking the tip until he pulled away.
“cheeky little thing you are.”
you smirked up at him and he licked his lips, zipping himself back up again.
you didn’t even try to hide your disappointment. “aww what’s wrong?” he pouted, “you didn’t actually think i’d let you cum tonight, did you?”
you opened and closed your mouth a few times, unsure of what to say.
he brought his thumb to your lips, his hand tilting your jaw up as he leaned down to your level to whisper in your ear. “i told you,” he bit your earlobe before pulling away to look at the desperate look in your eyes. “sluts don’t get what they want.” he tilted his head teasingly, “you know what they do get though?” he paused to look you up and down and you felt yourself shiver under his gaze. “they get punished.”
he kissed you roughly for a few moments and grabbed his mask off the floor as you tried to catch your breath. he stepped back and crossed his arms. “now get dressed, i’d like to enjoy the rest of the party.”
#happy halloween :)#halloween blurb#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland smut#tom holland ask#tom holland blurb#dom!tom holland#dom!tom holland blurb#dom!tom holland smut#dom!tom holland x reader
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Wearing THAT
[Dewey Finn X Female Reader]
Summary: Reader teases Dewey in a Poison Ivy costume. You have a really hard time saying exactly what you want... Masterlist Next
Word count: 3.1k words (no beta)
Warning(s): 17+ | teasing, lots of teasing and boners, lap sitting, near nudity, touching
AN: only Thots here, thots about Dewey Finn also is Ned British? He's British in my head
This was some sort of test. It had to be. God was testing him through you and you were not playing fair. It’s a costume party not a competition, you pompous little sycophant. And yet he can’t help but tug at the collar of his shirt. It’s not even anywhere near his throat but why else would he feel so constricted? It’s certainly not because of you…
You walked into his shared apartment wearing that and you had no idea the effect it had on him.
Dewey watches you sling an arm around Ned and kiss Patty’s cheek in greeting. “Hi guys! Thanks for inviting me, I’ve been dying to put this on.”
“Oh you look lovely,” Patty coos. She plucks at one of the plastic leaves on your corset. “Did you make this?! It’s so intricate.”
You bark out a laugh. “Oh hell no! I have this cousin, right? And him and his fiancé own this shop where they make costumes for movies and theatre and if you pay ‘em right, ‘personal use.’ And they don’t ask questions what ain’t their business either.”
“Well, I’m sold.” Ned raises his beer for a toast and Patty clinks it with her bottle of mysterious green juice. “Prost! What’s the name of the shop? Wanna see if they’re online– you know, for... support.”
“Ned,” Patty swatted his empty hand (no need to be shy, we already know they’re freaky).
You pat your friends on their backs and take a step towards the kitchen. “Gonna get myself a beer.”
“Oh honey you don’t have to do that. Dewey!” The man in question nearly covered himself in his own drink when he heard his name. “Be a good host and get this lady her beer!”
“Yes captain,” Dewey salutes and Patty can do nothing but glare in her Star Trek yellow shirt costume. Original series, of course, nothing but the best for Patricia Di Marco.
Dewey takes a hold of the moment he has his back to you to take deep, calming breaths. He will not let this be the end of him. Your friendship means so much more to him than that and a little fancy green corset was not going to make him fuck things up with you.
He’s ready for you when he hands you your beer. Your one arm hug is appreciated because he’s sporting a bit of wood and he’d hate to find out your corset isn’t thick enough to hide it– or god forbid you feel him on your thigh. And god, your thighs… those sheer green nylon tights were doing unspeakable things to him. Maybe if he kept you close and kept your legs out of his peripherals he could make it through the night without embarrassing himself.
Or maybe not.
“Are yoooouuu a college student?,” you ask and point at his inconspicuous clothes.
“Actually– ” he opens the buttons of his shirt to reveal another shirt with a superman logo on it and buttons it back up clumsily as you laugh. “Ssshhh! Don’t tell anybody. Protect my secret.”
“Of course,” you giggle. God you feel good hanging off him– usually he loves how physical you are but he has to figure out a way to keep his distance without offending you and quickly. “You like mine?”
The way you pick up a thick swirling red lock and direct his attention to the very thing he’s trying not to look at is killing him. Of course you look even better up close. The leaves of your corset give the thing depth and texture, your gloves are fingerless and go over your elbows, and your heels are high, like make- him- feel- his- below- average- height high.
“I like these.” Dewey plucks at the ring of leaves at the top of your gloves. It’s a way to keep his mind off your everything else. “Did you dye your hair?”
“It’s a wig.” You tug on the top and then the bottom, wincing a little. “Sew in, so don’t go snatch it.”
“I would never!”
“Poison Ivy, eh? Think that’s one of Dewey’s favorites,” Ned blabs.
Dewey sends him a death glare so powerful Ned chokes on his beer but you’re looking at your Spock-dressed friend so you can’t see it.
“Oh, really?” You return your gaze to Dewey and say, “well you must be loving this, then.”
Dewey swallows. No words come to him and there is nothing to stop the awkward silence that follows. You appear unbothered by it, maintaining eye contact as you smile almost knowingly…
“We should play twister,” he says with the most unsure voice ever.
“We don’t even have twister,” Patty mumbled. “Come on, there are like twenty other games setup, let’s play!”
~
Dewey gives it a minute and when he’s free from you, he catches Ned by his pointy green ear and drags him into the hall. “Hey? What the fuck are you doing?”
“Whah– what are you talking about?” Ned slaps at the hand fisted in his shirt but Dewey doesn’t budge.
“You can’t just go telling people I’m into them, dude! Do you know how close you came to giving me away?!”
Ned scoffed. “Her? I hardly think she’s ignorant to your feelings, you’re not like that Steven from Austin fellow.”
“– Are you talking about stone cold Steve Austin?"Dewey buries his face in his hands- "It’s his last name, not his birthplace–”
“And besides…” Ned peeks around the corner to see you in the middle of some sort of posing game. Everybody's trying to take the form of some sort of vehicle, and you've got Chloe in a headlock and Vance's leg in the other hand. Ned never got to finish his thought because someone dropped a huge bowl of popcorn and that too became a game of ‘how many can you eat off the floor before Patty cleans it up.’ Ned’s got to help and he’s got to help now.
Dewey finds himself on the couch with his fifth beer of the evening. Vance, Jeremiah, and Chloe are talking baseball stats when suddenly Dewey’s vision is filled with green and red just before you sit down. Right between his legs. He unconsciously scoots up to make room for you and before he catches on to your game, you nestle into his space by the arm of the couch and sling your legs across his like you belong there.
Ok, something is definitely up with you.
Would he describe you as cuddly? A little. Perhaps a more appropriate word would be… hands on. Long before he started wanting more than friendship with you, you two were always just touching. Your presence and your love language was physical. Dewey never felt like you were invading his personal space or overstepping his boundaries because he simply had none with you and the feeling was mutual. But this was something else. Something that wasn’t there before.
Was it him? Was he fucking up his perfectly in sync companionship with you because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants or (his heart for that matter)? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drag you closer or push you flat on your ass right now.
You were listening to Chloe chew Vance out for hating Gritty the mascot when you felt Dewey plant a hand on your forehead. “Hey, are you feeling ok?”
You gently shake him off and raise a single eyebrow. He seems serious, his voice gone all soft and making you feel gooey inside.
“You just seem… I dunno,” he fumbles, “do you want me to take you home after this?”
Hellooooo opening! “Actually, can I stay here tonight?”
“Yeah, of course.” Fuck, who said that? Dewey? Ah, shit…
“Thanks,” oh oh you should not be rubbing his thigh right now… “I think I’ll go change here in a minute.”
Oh please do, please please puh-leeaaase–
~
After a brilliant movie drinking game (which Dewey tapped out of), the crowd began to disband. 24 became 20, then 18, then 12. You went out to your car to grab your overnight stuff and Dewey was hoping for a brief reprieve from the assault of your visage. He just needed a few more people to leave so he can sequester himself and rub one out– you know, get his head straight. Ever since you left his lap he’s been rock hard, there’s not enough blood flowing to his brain. The guest count is down to 3– 2 with you in your car, and he can’t wait anymore.
Dewey slipped into the only bathroom in the house and prayed to god nobody noticed him. He barely got his hand wrapped around his shaft when Patty’s fist banged on the door demanding he help clean up. Sulking and agitated, Dewey managed to calm down while cleaning up red solo cups, glass beer bottles, cans, and small pocket sized objects that would need to be returned to the guests after their hangovers subsided (no keys, thankfully, everybody’s got a DD). His “predicament’ is nearly forgotten when you finally return with a bundle of clothes, disappear into the bathroom and reemerge in loose sleepwear with your makeup wiped clean and uh… braless.
You catch him looking. Dewey– surprisingly sober after he gave up drinking half way through his sixth beer– does nothing short of raise a slightly irritated eyebrow at you. “Cold in here, huh?”
“Shut up. You know how uncomfortable it is to sleep in a bra?”
You help him collect a couple bottles that rolled under the couch and walk with him down to Ned’s car. Patty would sort the recyclables from the trash in the morning (late morning, she did a couple rounds of tequila shots thanks to you). It’s almost like the party never happened; you’re shooting the shit again and everything is right in the world. He’s got no ulterior reaction to putting a hand on your hip– that’s just a normal thing in your perfectly platonic relationship. God, he really must have been imagining things, he was beginning to think you were actually trying to flirt with him!
Ned’s bent over the kitchen sink with Patty and holding her hair back. He looks up as you enter the apartment and shakes his head. You and Dewey make yourself scarce by slipping into the shared bathroom to hide. You try to giggle quietly as Dewey surveys the skincare products you covered the counter with. He points to your head and asks, “you wearing that to bed?”
“It’s sewed in, I’m not taking this off for three weeks at least,” you answer. “Get my money’s worth. I can work it like my natural hair.”
Dewey nods. You rub your arm nervously and look for something to say, something to circle back to the whole point of showing up looking like a sexed up goddess. What do guys like? Girls wearing their clothes, right? But you need to phrase it perfectly…
“Dewey?” He looks up from the scrubby lip balm in his hands. “I’m not quite ready to go to sleep yet and it… it is a little chilly in your place. Can I wear your jacket?”
Just to bring your meaning home, you tug on his sleeve– the very jacket on his back. You don’t want just any jacket, you want that one, already warm and scented by him. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance past you like he was reluctant to comply. And yet…
“Yeah, here.” He slips out of it with ease and drapes it over your shoulders. You miss the sigh of relief he makes when you pull the zipper closed and obscure your pebbling nipples. “Think I’m gonna go help Ned put Patty to bed.”
Ned was a scrawny little thing and couldn’t carry her by himself, and she needed to be carried. Competitive by nature, it’s easy to talk her into virtually anything, especially if it feels like girl time. You need Patty in a deep sleep for your plans tonight (sorry not sorry). Dewey’s very sexy as he bears most of Patty’s weight. She’s clinging to Ned, arms around his neck and babbling incoherently while Dewey’s got an arm around her waist and legs, keeping Ned on his feet. You skirt ahead of them and open the bedroom door, help pull her shoes off, her captain insignia, her earrings, you even wipe the spit from her lips and the eyeliner smeared on her cheek.
“You’re my favorite ever,” she whimpers, “I love you so much, you’re like my best friend ever…”
You shush her gently. “You say that about everybody when you’re drunk, baby. I promise I’ll make you a fat breakfast in the morning but you gotta go to sleep now, OK?”
Patty nods. She snuggles into her pillow just as Ned is taking up position as the big spoon when she looks back up at you and asks, “can we go for a run together?”
You blink evenly. “Yes.” You already regret it as she smiles big and wide. It would be just your luck this is the one thing she doesn't forget in the morning.
Finally it's just you and Dewey in the hallway. It feels like you're standing between two choices: his open bedroom door and the living room. But it seems like only you can feel the weight of it.
"Are you sure you want to stay over?," Dewey asks, "you can use my bed."
You perk up out of your heavy mood. "Really?"
"Yeah, I'll take the couch tonight."
He can't possibly miss the way you instantly deflate but he's still not putting the pieces of the puzzle together. "Dewey. I'm not going to kick you out of your own room."
He shrugs. "Suit yourself. I'll grab a few blankets."
There's a storage closet in the main building with this one extra soft blanket that Dewey knows you'll love. You on the other hand have got no more patience left. Once the man leaves, you stomp your foot and decide to try one final act.
Dewey returns to the apartment to find an empty, quiet living room. Ned and Patty are in bed, but where are you? He wanders past the bathroom door because it's dark inside and checks his room. There you are reclining on his bed. He could have sworn you were wearing pants before but your legs are bare and his jacket hugs the tops of your thighs. He also could have sworn you were wearing a shirt. He finds both items folded neatly beside you with your underwear right on top.
Oh…
This cannot be happening right now. He just survived tonight by the skin of his teeth and now you were doing this to him. He’s going to pull his hair out, going to scream, it’s so frustrating because he can’t just ask you what you want– you’ll turn the question back on him and he’ll fuck it up. He lets the blanket fall from his grip and with a heavy sigh he whispers in a weak voice, “straight answers only. What are you doing to me? Why you doin’ this?”
You cock your head and answer leisurely, your eye drifting across the items in his room. “You know that’s not how I roll, but if you want me to address the elephant in the room: I'm naked in your bed right now."
Against his better judgement, Dewey moves closer. "I can see that."
One step closer and your eyes find him again. Like an invitation you lean back more, even uncross your legs but go no further. Dewey swallows his tongue and waits for you to elaborate and every second is agonizingly slow.
"You think you can just walk around here with your pretty face and cocky little attitude like it’s nothing,” you said accusingly.
Dewey glared at you. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”
“Well we're in agreement then,” you’re almost sneering at him, but he knows it’s because you’re really frustrated with yourself, “I look and I touch and I feel but I don’t know, you know?”
“Not a clue,” he sighs and sits himself beside you. He’s done trying to keep his distance. “Let’s go back to you being naked in my bed.”
“Do you like it?”
“Do I like it?,” he repeats incredulously. Dewey leans back on his elbow to look you over from top to bottom. You look damn good in nothing but his jacket. You’ve got the long ends of your red hair in braids that sweep down to your navel. The zipper rests tantalizingly right below your ribcage. Dewey dares to reach out a mollifying hand and give a tiny stroke to that silver keeper. He cannot bring himself to speak above a whisper as he nods, “yeah, I… I like it.”
The tension leaves your shoulders and you wear a small grin. “It’s not too late to take it back. Say no, and I’ll put my clothes back on and sleep on the couch like none of this ever happened. This,” you point between the two of you, “doesn’t change unless we want it to.”
… this was real. In answer, Dewey’s chin wrinkles and he watches his finger travel upwards, drawing a light line up the expanse of your chest between your breasts to feel you shiver at his touch. Thing is he doesn’t want to say no, but wouldn’t it be better? Safer? He asks the question he’s been dying to know all night. “What do you want from me?”
“Whatever I can get,” you answer truthfully. “Whatever you’ll allow. Don’t trouble yourself with labels and things ‘cause what we have has always been so much more than that.”
Dewey feels a weight lift off of his chest. His hand works around your waist and drags you closer, halfway under him and he rests his perspiring forehead on your breastbone. Whatever happens next happens, for better or for worse.
You’re not troubled when Dewey moves the jacket to expose one of your breasts, however you are taken aback when he bites you. You barely manage to stifle your yelp when you feel him growl against your flesh and the sound vibrates straight to your core. Dewey drags his head up and stares you dead in the eye as he kneads your savaged breast.
“All night,” he growls, “all fucking night for this? We could have done this ages ago. The salon, the drive in, Chloe’s cat’s birthday– grocery shopping last week. But no, instead you pick a party full of people and you’ve had me riled up for hours.”
Dewey pinches your hardened peak and you keen. “‘m sorry…”
“No you’re not, but don’t worry: you will be.”
AN: Check Out Part 2 @hoodoo12 @go-commander-kim @escape-your-grape @softbeej @imma-fucking-nerd @werwulfy
#Dewey Finn#Dewey Finn x reader#three bees writing#🐝🐝🐝✒#black reader insert#🖤❤💛#dewey finn x female reader
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