#what i’m trying to say is that there’s glitter all over me; my desk and the floor and it’s not funny
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to be honest i feel like my gift wrapping skills get worse every year
#i am in misery#my mum got me wrapping paper but for some reason it’s kind of… leaking?#what i’m trying to say is that there’s glitter all over me; my desk and the floor and it’s not funny#i hate glitter#that shit is straight from hell#christmas#christmas gifts#gift wrapping#random stuff
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Her Girl (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)
Synopsis: Sometimes you have to calm Melissa down, and sometimes you get more than you bargained for when you do.
Words: 1.6k
Warnings: anger, gross men, mentioned violence
“And so all I had to say to him was glitter was for special occasions. To which he told me anything could be a special occasion which really made me reevaluate some things,” you said to the camera crew, brushing some of the green glitter off your hands, “an ordinary day could be a special occasion and maybe we should celebrate-”
A teacher rushed past you, throwing a scared glance back over their shoulder. You watched them go before you began to hear the shouting that was coming from down the hall. One voice, in particular, was very familiar.
“Would you excuse me for a moment?” you said to the camera crew, before following the sounds of conflict.
Bursting into the staff room you found most of the teachers pushed to the outer edges, looking inwards at the centre of the room. Melissa had the neck of a poor teacher’s shirt clutched in her fist, the other brandishing a plastic knife close enough to his eye to cause concern. The murder in her own eyes was also a concern. He was trying to cower away from her but her grip was strong and her anger unstoppable.
“What’s going on?” you whispered to Janine.
“I think he said something she didn’t like,” she whispered back, “she keeps calling him a pig.”
“Are you going to intervene?” Gregory asked, leaning over to you.
At some point in the last three years you’d been teaching at Abbott you’d become the designated person to calm Melissa down. It had started with small things like noticing when the vein beginning to throb in her temple or the way her gaze turned sharp when Janine began to talk. You would usher from the room or distract her until that anger was forgotten. Now, whenever it looked like she was going to kill someone, you were sought out to stop it on school property.
And no one knew why you were the only one that could calm her down. Yourself included.
“You’re pathetic,” Melissa shouted, “you can’t say shit like that. Not about her.”
“I suppose I have to, don’t I?” you sighed.
You stepped into the no man’s land left from the teachers trying to keep out of the way of Melissa’s rage while still watching the fight. There was a sharp intake of breath from behind. You ignored it, pausing at your friend’s shoulder.
“Hey Mel,” you said, keeping your voice light, letting her know you were there without sneaking up on her, “what’s going on?”
“This piece of shit has been running his mouth,” she replied, the knife coming dangerously close to his eye.
“And you’re planning on stabbing him in the eye?” you asked.
“I’m planning on teaching him he can’t say shit like that,” she said.
You eased your way around her until you were able to see her face. You reached up, curling your fingers around her wrist, the one holding the knife, holding it in case a sudden move took his eye out. His gaze flicked down to you then back to the knife, turning cross eyed as he tried to keep it in sight.
“I’m not sure this is the best way of doing that,” you said to her.
She looked to you, those green eyes flashing with an anger that was far beyond what you were used to. If anyone but Melissa had looked at you like that you would have flinched back, but you knew Melissa. You trusted Melissa. She would never hurt you.
“Tell her what you said,” she demanded of the man.
You looked to him, still held in a death grip. He whimpered at the knife wavering in front of his face.
“I was just voicing my admiration for you-“
“Don’t you dare lie right to my face,” Melissa growled before looking back to you, “he said that he’s fantasised about bending you over your desk and that your mouth looks perfect for blowjobs.”
“Ew,” you said looking back at him, sweeping your eyes over his trembling body, “gross.”
“And so I have to take his tongue so he never says it again” she said.
He whimpered again. You sighed, leaning towards Melissa, lowering your voice.
“There are witnesses. Ava is filming. Think this through, Mel. There’s enough evidence for them to take you down if you do anything right now.”
She huffed, eyes finding your face. She allowed her hand to be lowered by the hold you still had on her wrist. You were soft as you plucked the knife out of her hand. She shoved the man back before releasing him, watching him trip over his own feet to sprawl on the ground. You didn’t even bother sparing him a glance before stepping in front of Melissa properly.
“Come on,” you said, keeping your voice low enough that she was the only one who’d hear, “he’s not worth criminal charges.”
The growl low in her throat shouldn’t have done something to you but an angry Melissa had an appeal that was hard to understand. She was staring at you, clearly thinking it over. Your thumb brushed against her pulse point, feeling it beating hard under your touch. She jerked out of your hold.
“Fine,” she ground out.
“Now let’s leave that creep to…” You glanced over your shoulder at him, nose wrinkling at the spreading wet patch, “find new trousers.”
She strode out of the room, other teachers scattering to give her a clear walkway. You followed in her wake, ignoring the whispers that sprung up behind you. Half running, you trailed her into her classroom, watching her hands clenching into fists.
“Mel…”
“Don’t.” She spun on you, “he was outta line.”
“Sure, but he’s hardly the first guy who’s said something gross about me and he’s not going to be last. At least he didn’t come up to me and say it to my face expecting me to jump into bed with him like it’s some kind of compliment,” you said, “c’mon Mel, you know what guys are like.”
“He has no right to say that stuff about you,” she growled.
A slow smile began to stretch over your face. Her scowl deepened.
“Were you defending my honour?” you asked.
She mumbled something under her breath.
“Melissa Schemmenti, you were totally defending my honour,” you laughed.
“He doesn’t get to talk about you like that,” she said.
“Mel, it’s fine,” you reassured.
“No it’s not,” she snapped.
“Why not?” you asked.
“Because you’re my girl.”
Her outburst wasn’t expected by either of you. She blinked, taking a step back as your mouth fell open, watching her. Your heart thudded against your ribs and for the first time with her uncertainty filled your veins.
“What?” Your voice came out in a whisper.
She sighed, looking less than pleased at the situation she’d found herself in.
“Look, everyone here knows your my girl. They know not to talk about you like that,” she said.
“Okay can we cycle back to the bit about me being your girl,” you said, “what?”
She rolled her eyes before both of her hands cupped your cheeks and pulled you in. Lips pressed together, stealing your breath, making your skin tingle with electricity. Your hands found a home on her hips, pulling her closer as she nipped at your bottom lip. Her fingers slid into your hair as she drew back.
“Sweetheart, you’re the only one who didn’t know you were my girl,” she said, “why do you think I let you talk me out of most of my revenge plans? It’s not because I don’t wanna do them.”
“Have I been your girlfriend this entire time without knowing it?” you asked.
“Course not, hon,” she said, “but you will be.”
“I’m so confused,” you said, “can we got back to the bit where you kiss me again?”
She chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on your jaw. The anger had been replaced with something softer, the kind of look that you were more used to seeing directed your way from her. You melted under her touch.
“Look, I had a plan that involved inviting you over and cooking. That human skid mark ruined it but he should have known better. I’m the only one who gets to think those things about you,” she said.
“You think those things about me?” you asked.
Her eyes darted to the side.
“Sometimes.”
“What sort of things do you think?” you asked, tugging on her hips until she was flush against you.
“I might have thought about pinning you to my kitchen counter and eating something…” Her gaze swept down your body, making heat bloom within you, “sweet.”
“You better be planning on following through with those thoughts,” you murmured, “otherwise I’ll be very disappointed.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you,” she whispered, lips pulling up into a smile.
“Then I guess I am your girl.”
You kissed her, deep and longing. Her tongue swept in, sending your thoughts spiralling until there was nothing but her. She seemed to delight in the way you moaned into her mouth, fingers tightening in your hair.
“Alright,” she mumbled against your lips, “tonight. My place. Now get outta here before I do something stupid like bending you over my desk.”
“Now who’s outta line,” you laughed.
She swatted at your ass as you walked out of her classroom. You threw a smile over your shoulder at her, only to find a soft smile already on hers. Your heart fluttered at the sight, your dreams seeming to have come true on a random Thursday.
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𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞—𝑙. 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘 (#⁰³)
✦trope: fluff, spidey-mark, spiderman
✧first pov
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It’s the kind of morning where the sunlight seems to perform, glittering through the leaves of the trees lining our school’s front walk like something alive. The bus, dented and smelling faintly of rubber and stale lunches, sits idling at the curb, and I am hyper-aware of my own heartbeat, the tap-tap-tapping against my ribcage as I shuffle in line to board.
I find a seat by the window, sticking my backpack onto the empty space beside me. I tell myself it’s to save the spot for Jenna, but she’s decided to sit up front, leaving me an island in a sea of noise. The other students buzz with the sort of aimless energy only a field trip can inspire. I watch them, trying to imagine how it would feel to be as light-hearted, their thoughts not tangled in a net of impossible hopes.
Mark climbs onto the bus last, his hair a tousled mess from the wind, a grin playing on his lips as he jokes with his friends. They’re talking about the new exhibit at the science museum, something about rare minerals, but all I can see is the way his shoulders ease back in laughter, the effortless orbit of his friends around him. He’s got this gravity, and I feel caught in it, helpless.
He doesn’t notice me, not yet. He’s recounting some anecdote that has them all leaning in, their expressions lit with shared amusement. I watch his hands as he speaks, animated and sure, the way I imagine Spider-Man’s might be when he’s scaling a skyscraper or swinging between the canyons of New York’s avenues. I try to picture telling him, confessing everything right there in the vibrating hull of the school bus. But the words knot in my throat, unspoken.
We arrive under a sky scrubbed clean by the wind, the museum rising before us like a monument to all things curious and unknown. Our teachers herd us toward the entrance, their voices raised over the clamor. I stay a few steps behind Mark, watching as he squints up at the banners flapping above the entrance, his profile sharp against the pale morning light.
Inside, the museum is a cavern of shadows and echoes, the air cool and tinged with the scent of metal and glass. We wander through the exhibits, the teachers giving us time to explore while they discuss logistics at the front desk. My friends cluster around a display of meteorites, their surfaces pocked and scarred like moons. I drift away, my sneakers silent on the polished floor.
I find him by the Foucault pendulum, standing so close to the barrier that his breath must be fogging the brass plaque explaining the physics of it all. His concentration is a tangible thing, and I watch the way his eyes track the slow, hypnotic swing of the pendulum.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” I say, my voice softer than I intend, barely threading through the hum of distant conversations and the distant echo of footsteps.
He turns, his smile quick and surprised, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to break his private communion with the exhibit. “Hey,” he says. “Yeah, it really is. Did you know—”
But I’m barely listening, too caught up in the way his hair curls just behind his ears, the earnestness of his gaze. I shuffle my feet, feeling suddenly clumsy, the words I’ve rehearsed slipping away like water through fingers.
“So, I was thinking,” I start, but my voice trembles and I have to start again. “I was wondering if—”
An explosion shatters the moment, the sound so loud it seems to consume the air. Screams slice through the museum as people start running, a stampede of fear. Mark’s hand shoots out, grabbing my arm, pulling me close. His body shields mine as the sound reverberates, the ground beneath us shivering with the violence of the blast.
“Are you okay?” he shouts over the noise, his eyes scanning the chaos, always looking for how he can help. I nod, words lost in the tumult.
We move together, his hand firm on my elbow, guiding me towards what I assume is safety. My heart is a wild thing inside my chest, not just from the blast, but from him, from the heat of his hand through the fabric of my shirt.
As we reach a quieter corner, his friends gathering around us, his face is inches from mine, his brow furrowed with concern. The chaos around us blurs into a backdrop as I’m suddenly, acutely aware of his closeness, the faint smell of his cologne mixed with the metallic tang of fear.
“Seriously, are you all right?” His voice is steady, a contrast to the trembling of my own limbs.
I manage a nod, my throat tight. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks to you.” The words tumble out awkwardly, carried more by relief than by courage. The truth is, I want to say so much more, to rewind to the moment before the explosion, to the question I had been about to ask.
He smiles, a quick, reflexive thing that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he scans the area, still in protector mode. His gaze is everywhere, taking in exits, assessing threats, so unlike the carefree high school student he plays in the daylight of ordinary afternoons.
Mark turns back to me, his hand still gripping my arm lightly. “We should keep moving. It’s not safe here.”
As we walk, I can hear the sirens in the distance, the sound growing steadily louder. The museum staff are directing visitors toward emergency exits, their voices calm but urgent over handheld radios.
We reach a side exit, the cool air outside a slap after the stifling fear inside. Police cars and fire trucks are converging on the scene, their lights painting the world in harsh strokes of red and blue. Mark's friends cluster together, everyone speaking at once, trying to make sense of the chaos.
I stand slightly apart, the weight of my unasked question heavier than ever. Just as I gather the remnants of my scattered courage, ready to reach out and touch his arm, to pull him aside and finally speak my truth, he looks over, his expression shifting as he sees something beyond my shoulder.
“Stay here,” he says abruptly, and then he’s gone, melting into the crowd with a swiftness that speaks of more than just urgency—it speaks of necessity, of duty.
The others don’t notice his departure, not at first, caught up in their own relief and recounting of the event. I watch where he disappeared, the cold knot of disappointment settling in my stomach. Not because of the missed chance to confess, but because I know, with a sinking certainty, where he’s gone.
To change, to swing into action as someone else entirely. As Spider-Man.
I wrap my arms around myself, watching as the first responders begin to corral us further away from the building. The sound of distant thuds and muffled shouts suggests that the danger isn’t over, that whatever caused the explosion might still be unfolding inside.
And there, under the relentless sweep of emergency lights, I realize the truth isn’t just in the words I’d failed to say. It’s in this moment, in the pulse of fear and the clarity it brings. It’s in the understanding that my confession wouldn’t just be about a crush; it would be an acknowledgment of his double life, a step into his world of constant peril and masked identities.
As I watch, poised on the edge of something vast and terrifying, a new resolve forms. When this is over, when he comes back, I’ll be waiting. Not just to confess, but to stand by him. Maybe then, he’ll see me not just as a classmate, but as someone who knows the weight of his secrets and chooses to stay.
But for now, I wait, the sirens wailing a lament, the flashing lights casting shadows where I stand—alone but undeterred, ready for whatever comes next.
#spidermark#nct mark lee#mark fanfic#spideymark#nct mark#mark lee imagines#mark lee#kpop fanfic#illumins#kpop au#kpop ff#mark imagines#nct fanfic#nct dream#nct 127#nct#nct imagines#illumins imagines
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makeup.
pairing: johnnie guilbert x reader
summary: you and johnnie are dating and decide to film a video of you doing his makeup
cw: fluff, language, suggestive but nothing major
word count: 1.5k + edited
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“Hey guys! So today I’m here with…”
“Y/N!” you finish, slightly nervous as it’s your first time streaming alone with Johnnie.
Johnnie giggles a little, sensing your nerves. He gently squeezes your thigh under the desk, out of sight of the viewers, letting you know he’s here for you. You grip his hand in return and squeeze, and he grins in response, stating matter-of-factly, “Yes! And this is her first time streaming with me! She’s gonna do great, guys. She’s a hundred times cooler than me as it is.” he gazes into your eyes while he says this, providing you with the comfort you need to get over your fear.
The thought of thousands of people judging your every move is daunting, but you know Johnnie just wants this to be a fun experience for both of you. Plus, his fans have been wanting to see you guys interact on screen for a while now. The edits of you guys together are really cute to be fair, it’s just the sudden fame that comes with dating an internet celebrity has been… a lot. Luckily for the most part, Johnnie’s fans have accepted you with open arms, and they seem genuinely happy to see him finally in a healthy relationship.
“So today…” Johnnie starts, “Y/N and I thought it would be fun for her to do my makeup, you know, since we have such different styles and stuff.”
“Wow… that description was… enlightening” you respond fake-sarcastically, which elicits an equally fake-sarcastic eye roll from Johnnie.
“Alright let’s just get into the makeup then if my girlfriend is gonna start bullying me now…” he trails off, as you begin to laugh and grip his arm, and soon he’s unable to contain his own giggling. Even though you both share a jokingly-sarcastic sense of humor with each other, neither of you can ever get through a bit with a straight face. One of you always ends up dying of laughter and the other can’t stop from joining. Johnnie never laughed this much with anyone– other than maybe Jake. But once you guys started dating a few months ago, Johnnie’s been all smiles.
“Okay, okay!” you say, catching your breath. “So like Johnnie said, our styles are super different. He’s emo and I’m kinda just doing whatever I like at the time. So I figured I would do my typical going-out makeup look for him today.”
“I’m terrified.” he responds, “I’ve seen your going out looks… There's a lot of glitter involved. I mean you look hot but…”
“Oh you’ll be fine.” you snarkily reply, “You always look hot anyway, this’ll just… amplify your beauty!”
He laughs, “Okay… I guess I trust you, girlfriend.” Johnnie has made a habit of calling you girlfriend as much as possible. It started as a joke between you guys– pet names that is. You would call each other pookie and boo bear and stuff like that over text and in instagram comments, eliciting hilarious responses from your fans, who had fun trying to figure out if you were being serious or not. Then one day, he called you girlfriend while greeting you in one of his videos with Jake, and you called him boyfriend in response. Ever since then, you’ve been unironically using those titles for each other. You both know it’s corny, but you don’t care. You’re too in love to care. Neither of you have ever felt this deep of a connection with anyone you’ve dated. Nothing about it can be “cringe” because you’re both too happy with each other to mind.
“Um.. I would hope so, boyfriend.” You roll your eyes at him and he tilts your chin towards his face and kisses you. “Enough PDA, we have work to do!” you back away as he tries to go in for another kiss, “At least let me get started,” you smile back at him, cheekily.
“Guys did you see that? She swerved me. What the fuck? This is so unfair. My girlfriend hates me.” The chat goes crazy, most people going along with the bit and saying stuff like “how dare you y/n😔” and “nooooo she gagged him lmao💀”
“Needy, needy man” you grip his chin and peck him, “There, happy now?”
“Yes… we can start the makeup now” he grins fake-maniacally.
“Okay, I don’t use primer so we’re just gonna jump right in with concealer…”
—
“Stop, stopppp that’s enough!!!” Johnnie pleads in his raspy vocal-fry shout you’ve heard so many times before in his videos with Jake.
“We’re almost done, you’re such a fucking baby” You laugh as he blinks down on the mascara wand for what feels like the hundredth time. “Okay now all we have left is lip gloss. But I figured we could do this the fun way, since you are clearly obsessed with me and wanna kiss me so bad” You flip your hair, “I mean, as you should!”
“Alright we gotta keep this PG for the kids,” Johnnie says in one of his silly voices.
“Since when have your videos ever been PG, sir??”
“Well… I guess you have a point,” he replies, leaning in and kissing you gently on the lips. You lean into it, and hold his cheek. You both pull away after a couple seconds, not wanting to fully start making out, which is where your innocent kisses usually lead. But considering you’re on stream, maybe that could wait until the cameras were off.
You apply your favorite lip gloss to your own lips and smirk at him. He quickly catches on and says, “Oh so we’re chapstick challenging this bitch, huh?”
“Oh yeah.” you laugh, and grip both sides of his face with your hands. At first you plant your lips firmly on his, actually attempting to transfer the lip gloss directly onto his lips. But then, you start planting kisses all over his face, leaving pink sticky smudges wherever your lips decide to land.
“NOOOO!!! NOOO! HELPPP!! I’M BEING ATTACKED BY MY GIRLFRIEND. CHAT SAVE ME” Johnnie yells, gripping the sides of his desk to try and escape your grasp.
“You’ll never escape me!!” you yell, leaping out of your own chair and onto his lap, continuing to plant kisses all over his cheeks and forehead. He grabs your waist with one hand, and your neck with the other, pulling you into a real, passionate kiss. One of your hands grips the headrest of his office chair, while the other cups the base of his neck, playing with his hair.
He gasps for breath after a good twenty seconds, and you two both turn to face the camera, flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire. “Well… sorry about that guys.” He says sheepishly, then turning to you adds, “The editors are about to go crazy on that one.”
“No for real” you respond, giggling, “I don’t mind.”
He gazes into your eyes like you’re the only woman he’s ever loved, “Me neither.” And you can’t stop yourself from grinning.
“How did I get so lucky, guys?” you ask. The chat responses have been super positive since the kiss, with comments ranging from “i feel like i’m interrupting something lol” to “the way he looks at her😭 they’re so in love omg”
“Well, now that I look like a pretty princess, I think we’re gonna call it here, guys. Thank you so much for joining the stream, and if you wanna buy my merch go to johnnieguilbert.com, oh and stream my music.” Johnnie finishes the outro and looks up at you, who is still sitting on his lap, “Anything you wanna add, y/n?”
“Ummm… I guess just that I think this was a really good first one-on-one stream, and you guys all made me feel super comfortable and welcome here, so thank you. Also, look how cute Johnnie looks! He’s so pretty with my pink eyeshadow on. You should do this more often, boyfriend.”
“We’ll see about that, girlfriend.” he giggles, “And I’m glad you felt comfortable today, you’re awesome and I love being able to make content with you. Alright, bye guys.” he switches off the camera. “You did great! Just like I knew you would. I love you.”
It’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud, but you can’t say you weren’t expecting it. The way you act around each other, there’s no other name for it other than true, unconditional, intense love. “I love you too, Johnnie.”
You swing one of your thighs around his legs, straddling him, and he grips your ass with both hands. You wrap your arms around his neck as he leans up to face you. He kisses you like you’re his lifeblood, like he needs you to survive. It’s messy, and primal, and you’re both out of breath and gasping for air, but neither of you want to stop. And in this moment, you know you would do anything to be with him like this, forever. Feeling him, tasting him, breathing him in. You’ve never felt anything quite like this, and you don’t think you’ll ever want to be with anyone else ever again. It's just you and him.
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posted this on ao3 first, and i still have 3 more from my ao3 to repost here! likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3
#sh4wty18#johnnie guilbert#johnnie guilbert fluff#johnnie guilbert x reader#johnnie x reader#johnnie guilbert x you#one shot#fluffy one shot#fluffy#original one shot#cute#johnnie x you
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They're obsessed with each other and I'm obsessed with them.
Hi lovelies!! It's finally here! My very first fic for Cherik Fic Month! I'm so excited to share it with you all!
For this specific fic, I used prompts number 8 and 26; that's Domestics and Cooking.
I hope you all enjoy!!
Sweetest Midnight
The wedding is in two months. Charles Xavier gets to marry his best friend; the love of his life. It still feels surreal sometimes, and he’s often caught staring at the gold band of metal on his finger, marveling, or running his thumb over it—sometimes slipping it off to reveal the cursive string of words etched on the inside, reading serenity, with you.
Two taps, Erik had once said, Just give it two taps if ever you need me, and I’ll be there. I’ll feel it, Charles.
Charles looks at it now, underneath the warm yellow desk light of his study table. He runs a hand through his hair as he sorts through his papers; he’s finally done. A lot earlier than usual; it’s midnight and everyone is asleep—including his Erik, on the couch in the corner of the room.
That’s one of the things Charles loves about Erik—maybe it has to do with the fact that they don’t get to spend much time alone together throughout the day, both having classes to teach and training to do, but since he moved into the mansion, he never lets Charles stay up by himself. No matter how tired he is, if Charles has work to do and decides to stay up late, Erik will stubbornly follow him, dragging a blanket along—in case I fall asleep, which I won’t, he always says.
Of course, he always does.
“Erik, darling,” he calls softly before standing and shuffling over to the couch, trailing two fingertips gently over Erik’s brow. “Let’s move to bed.”
Erik whines softly, curling his blanket tighter around himself. “Don’t wanna,” he mumbles, still half-asleep. Charles sighs softly. The last time Erik stayed on the couch the entire night, he didn’t stop complaining about several aches in his body the next day.
He kneels next to the couch and uses a single hand to cup Erik’s jaw. “Please?” he whispers. Erik stirs again, still in the safe space between dreams and reality. Probably without meaning to, he projects a snippet of one of those dreams to Charles.
The taste of cool ice cream is in his mouth all of a sudden, the smell of warm chocolate all-encompassing.
Charles looks at Erik incredulously, fondness seeping from his pores.
He’s dreaming about sweets, Charles thinks to himself, that’s the most precious thing in the world, my God.
“You want dessert, darling?” Charles says through a laugh, burying his face in Erik’s arm.
“Mhm,” Erik murmurs sleepily.
“If you could have anything in the world right now,” Charles says into Erik’s skin, “What would it be?”
It’s a question he asks Erik frequently.
The thing about Erik is that he doesn’t know how to ask for things; he’s not used to being spoiled—and the thing about Charles is that he’s more generous than he lets on. All he does is give, and give, and give.
So Charles asks the question as if it’s hypothetical. And that gives Erik an excuse to ask for what he needs, and it gives Charles an excuse to give him exactly that.
His answer is what Charles expects.
“Brownies,” Erik whispers as his eyes open into narrow slits, gray-green and glittering in the low light.
Charles giggles. It’s another thing of theirs.
The Red Barn Bakery has some of the best brownies in town and Erik is obsessed with them. The two of them are always looking for an excuse to go get brownies and a coffee and neither of them are ever complaining about it.
“You’ll have to get up, then,” Charles sing-songs and laughs as Erik groans. Charles—still fully dressed—lifts himself up off of the ground and grabs his tweed jacket off the back of one of the seats in his study. Erik sits up and glares at him.
“There’s no way I’m getting dressed for this,” he says.
“No problem,” Charles says, trying to contain his laughter—and quite truthfully, his fondness—at the image of a messy-haired Erik standing in the middle of the bakery in his pajama bottoms and his sleep shirt.
~
“No brownies,” The cashier, Alex, says with a regretful look on his face, right as the pair of them walk in, and, “I’m really sorry,” with a pointed look in Erik’s direction. That’s how often they come here. All of the staff know them. And all of the staff know about Erik’s little chocolatey obsession.
Erik scowls and Alex looks vaguely amused.
Charles laughs and orders them coffee—a hazelnut latte for him and a cappuccino for Erik.
“Thank you very much, Alex,” Charles calls cheerfully as they leave. “Enjoy the rest of your—well, morning.”
“I’ll drive,” Charles says mischievously as they reach the parking lot.
They huddle back into the warm car and Charles puts a hand on Erik’s pajama-pant clad knee, watching the way his ring glimmers under the streetlight, his heart swelling.
“Everything’s a lot more fun when you’re here, you know that?” Charles says, running a thumb over the ring and watching as it makes Erik shiver and stop with his coffee halfway to his mouth.
“Thank you for being here.” he whispers, pulling Erik in for a sweet kiss.
When they pull up to the grocery store, Erik looks to him in confusion. Charles just smiles, unbuckles his seatbelt and says, “Let’s go, then,”
Charles forgets about the streak of gray starting to come in where his hair is concerned as they run through the empty aisles like teenagers. They’re ageless. He forgets about the tons and tons of work that there would be to do later, he forgets about all of the issues in his little world.
With Erik, his world is a whole lot bigger, and there are way less issues.
He dumps eggs, milk, cocoa, flour, sugar, butter, a tub of ice cream and some chocolate chips into his basket and watches as the understanding dawns on Erik’s face.
He smiles as Erik presses him back against the shelves, whispering against his mouth, “Thank you. There’s no one on this earth who’s luckier than I am. Not even you. And that’s saying something.”
Charles laughs and before he can even open his mouth for a smart retort, Erik shuts him straight up.
The cashier must notice, right?
The flush on their cheeks.
The way their mouths are red and swollen.
The way their eyes shimmer brighter than anything in the universe.
If she does, she doesn’t say anything. She simply smiles and tells them to have a good night. And oh, oh God, they do.
~
Coming home to a dark mansion will always be less depressing when Erik is with him, Charles thinks.
Later on in the morning, the students will be up and about, their buzz and chatter an integral part of Charles’ life, almost like the crackle of electricity in his brain. He can’t live without it.
But this, this is also something he can’t live without. The quiet that comes with Erik. The serenity. There’s no one he'd rather spend his life with.
With that thought, he runs his thumb over the gold band of metal on his ring finger again. Erik exhales shakily from his spot across the counter, almost dropping the mixing bowl.
“Schatz, if you keep doing that, I don’t think we’ll get done over here,” he says, shooting a pointed look at Charles.
“Sorry!” Charles says, giggling.
“You’re not, are you?” Erik says, making his way around the counter in two quick strides, catching Charles by the arm and pulling him toward him, digging his fingers into his abdomen and tickling.
"Erik!" Charles hiccups through bubbling laughter.
"Shh," Erik says through his giggles, burying his face into Charles’ neck. “You’ll wake the kiddies up.”
Charles pauses, tangling his fingers in Erik’s hair and tugging his head up to look him in the eye; he could list a million and one things he loves about Erik, but one of the things that would definitely go right on top is how fond he clearly is of the kids recently.
He reaches up and presses a kiss to Erik’s mouth; he tastes like brownie batter and coffee and Charles wants to melt into him.
Charles shoves his sudden emotions down as best as he can and says, “Speaking of getting this done,” and he picks up the mixing bowl, “Let’s get this in the oven before you eat it all, hm?”
Erik shoves his shoulder playfully but smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”
Twenty minutes later, Charles is cutting into the fudgiest, warmest brownie in the world and he can’t think of a better person to share it with. He tops it with some ice cream and says to Erik, “Dream come true?”
“Yes, you are,” Erik says, leaning in for another kiss.
They share many more kisses that night. Many, many more kisses that taste like brownies, ice cream, coffee and home.
Later, they brush their teeth side-by-side and giggle like idiots while smiling at each other in the mirror.
“You really ought to get some sleep,” Erik says as they get into bed and as he pulls the sheets over them.
“I really do.” Charles says through a giggle.
It’s going to be a wonderful life, and I get to spend it all with you. Charles thinks with a smile before drifting off.
#revivecherik#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr#x men#x men first class#x men movies#xmen#x men apocalypse#x men dark phoenix#alex summers#cherik
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Win a Date with Javi G, part 1
Javi Gutierrez x female reader x Jack Daniels
Co-written with @absurdthirst
Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+
Word Count: 15.9k
Warnings: Cursing. Food/alcohol. Pure fluff and flirting. A little dirty talk/dirty flirting toward the end.
Summary: You and your best friend are huge fans of Spanish pop star Javi G, and she managed to convince you to enter a contest to win a date with the singer himself. No one is more surprised than you when you actually win. ✨🎶🥰
Notes: Hey Guys! It's my birthday! To celebrate, Keri and I conceived of this little one shot that turned into a smutty, kinky, fluffy two-parter and I hope you love it as much as we do. For all the folx out there who remember the movie "Win a Date with Tad Hamilton", you'll recognize the inspiration right away -- and reader's hometown is inspired by the waterfront town from "Bob's Burgers". We're all over the map here! Special shouts also to my darling @julesonrecord for imaging how much glitter Eurovision Pop Star Javi G would actually be covered in at every show.
Your eyes are on the verge of crossing when the phone rings, books spread out on your desk in your home office and countless tabs open on your laptop as you try to piece together this bit of research to send off to your bosses on deadline. You almost let the call go to voicemail, too absorbed in this odd passage from an even odder book, but something inexplicable tells you to answer it. The call is Private, the word splashed across your screen as it continues to ring, and your cat meows curiously when she jumps up into your lap as you hit the green button to accept. “Hello?”
Jack tilts the handset for his desk phone against his shoulder and enjoys the sound of the voice on the other end. It sounds attractive, being in the business long enough, you can tell by a voice if the person is gonna be a looker. “Howdy ma’am.” He greets you and then says your name. “Is it a convenient time for a talk?”
Howdy? You make a face instinctively, wondering why you've got a cowboy calling you in the middle of the day. Probably a telemarketer, but what the hell. You've got time. Your cat meows again and you sit back in your chair to let her settle into your lap to be pet while you're on the phone. "Sure," you say after a moment. "What can I do for you?"
“Jack Daniels ma’am.” He introduces himself with a grin as he twists in his ergonomic chair and looks at the poster that is plastered up on his wall for the upcoming world tour. “I’m the CEO of Statesman Talent Agency.” He hums. “And I’m callin’ concerning a little contest that you entered. ‘Win a Date with Javi G’? Does that ring a bell?”
"Oh!" Shooting up straight in your chair almost tips your sweet cat onto the floor but you manage to recover and hold onto her. "Uh–yeah, yes. Of course." Entering the contest had been a whim. A decision made after too much wine and giggling with your best friend. Spain's Eurovision winner Javi G was trying to break out in America and you had loved the album he released - as well as everything he had put out in Spain that you had hunted down on the internet. Your best friend had been able to talk you into entering after about the millionth watching of his winning Eurovision performance. You definitely didn't think you would actually get a call about it though.
“Good, good,” Jack chuckles as he takes his boots off his desk and leans forwards. “I’m tickled pink to inform you that you have won our little contest.” He tells you. “You will be flown out to L.A. to accompany Javi to the Grammys as well as the Universal Music Group after party.” He rambles. “Hotel and your dress will be provided of course.”
"I—"You almost hiccup, the disbelieving laughter coming out of you right away. "Seriously?"
“Now ma’am, my momma would whoop me if I was leadin’ a young lady on.” Jack grins at your reaction, imagining you are about to start dancing. “We do need to be discussin’ some of the particulars. The NDA and the legal-ese stuff the blaster lawyers like to prattle on about.” He hums. “Plus we need to film your ‘official’ win for the announcement. Are you gonna be free next week?”
"I–um–yes, sir, I am." There's no fucking reason in the world to have called him sir, but the cowboy thing just sinks into your brain and the manners pop out by accident. "I work from home and my availability can be made flexible." Having a conventional job for unconventional employers has its benefits.
“Good, that’s good, darlin’.” Jack might get shit for his sometimes seemingly sexist way of speaking, but it’s not often. “I’ve got your information right here in front of me and will be sendin’ you an email.” He promises. “Congratulations.”
"Thank you very much, Mr. Daniels." There, that's more appropriate. It doesn't help that you're nearly vibrating in your chair and about three seconds away from laughing so hard you scream. "I look forward to hearing from you."
“Real soon, darlin’” Jack hangs up the phone and hums, your social media account pulled up and he’s looking at a picture of you. “She’s gonna be perfect.” He predicts with a grin.
As soon as you hang up the phone you're a giggling mess, hugging your cat and giving her all the scratches in the world as she looks at you with distinct concern. Immediately pulling up your best friend’s contact info to call her, you're not taking no for an answer – tonight is going to be takeout and a bottle of wine and celebrating. For a girl who has never won anything before, this is a very big first.
******
Four days later, Jack sighs as he walks down the stairs of the G5 he had flown to your closest airport. Squinting at the light, he’s delighted to find the car waiting for him. The little perks of having an international talent agency often outweighed the long hours and constant ass kissing.
“Thirty minute drive, Mr. Daniels.” The driver tells him when he opens the rear door to let the man climb into the nondescript black SUV. “Not much traffic this time of day.”
“Is there a lot a traffic…ever?” Jack asks, far too used to L.A.’s horrendous traffic in the years he has spent living there. It makes a normal town seem positively quaint.
“People still have to get to and from work.” The driver shrugs and closes the door, only opening his mouth again when he climbs behind the wheel. “Town’s Art Crawl is this weekend, so it’ll get busy fast.”
“Art Crawl?” Jack would normally be on his phone, answering emails but the driver has piqued his curiosity. “What is that?”
“The restaurants and businesses down on the wharf by the theme park all display art by local artists,” the man explains as he heads for the highway. The address he was given is an apartment on Ocean Avenue, so he isn’t worried about finding it. That’s just downtown. “It’s a fundraiser for I-dunno-what. People buy the art and can donate to whatever the cause is at raffles and things. Always brings in the crowds, though.”
Jack hums. “Interesting.”
“Town’s got a lot of good stuff goin’ on.” The driver continues. Having a captive audience suits him. “Just had a big party at town hall for New Years. Community theater is opening a show this weekend. More Art Crawl stuff.”
“Hmmmm.” Jack reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone. Maybe Seymour’s Bay isn’t quite as small town U.S.A as he had imagined it to be. “Sounds like this place has some culture.” He says, opening his mail. “You like Javi G?”
The driver glances in his rear view mirror. He was given a name, a time, and an address and nothing else. Now this guy in a Stetson is asking him about some pretty boy pop singer? “Can’t say I’ve heard much,” he says with a shrug. “That’s the kind of stuff my fifteen-year-old daughter listens to.”
“He is going to be touring in the U.S. in the next three months.” Jack tells him, glancing up from his email for a moment. “Tickets go on sale next Monday.” If there’s anything that Jack Daniel’s excels at, it’s promoting his clients. Even if it’s to his driver for the day.
“Yeah?” The man makes a huffing sound, like the wheels in his head needed some extra oomph to get moving. “It’s her birthday soon…”
“Nothing better than tickets for her and her two closest friends to see the concert of the year.” He reaches into his pocket and and pulls out a card. “If you want to really impress her, call that number and my secretary can set you up with VIP passes for a fair price. Meet and greets.”
The rest of the car ride passes with some grateful squawking from the driver and the usual questions about what it’s like to work for celebrities, and by the time the man pulls the car up in front of the big brick building on Ocean Avenue that houses a florist shop on street level and an apartment up above, he probably should have talked himself silly. Instead he pulls the back door open with a beaming smile and waits for this client to exit. “This is it,” he says, excited for whatever is happening that he doesn’t know about. But excited nonetheless.
“Thank you.” Jack nods as he looks at the neat, well kept building. He steps out of the back of the vehicle and reaches for his briefcase, filled with the paperwork that would serve as the agreement for the contest.
The agent’s arrival time was listed in the email you got last night, and you have been hustling all week long to make sure that your apartment is spotless for his arrival. Putting way too much thought into everything as usual, there are tons of drink choices in the fridge, an entire painstakingly assembled charcuterie platter to offer, and a box of macarons from the bakery down the street that makes the best sweets in the entire world. Even Pyewacket is behaving, just lazing happily in a patch of sun on the arm of your leather sofa. You’re dressed decently, styled like an actual adult, everything is perfect. So when the buzzer for your door sounds, you take a deep breath before you answer without panicking. “Coming!” You chirp through the speaker and head straight downstairs.
He waits, looking around the street and peers into the shop to see the bouquets that are on display. They are beautiful, someone with a skilled hand put them together. It’s ideal honestly and he can already see how the promo’s for the advertisement for Javi’s tour will go.
When the back door to the building opens and you step out, you have to hold back a small giggle at first. There’s a man in a Stetson with a Burt Reynolds mustache peering in the shop window right beside your beaten up little car and you clear your throat politely. “Mr. Daniels?”
Seeing you in person, it's even better than your social media page. Your smile is bright, almost irresistible. He reaches up and sweeps his hat off his head and smiles his most charming smile while he says your name. "It is surely a pleasure to meet you."
The features that you noticed from a distance are the least consequential as the man turns to greet you and aims a smile at you that’s brighter than the sun. Oh god, he’s handsome… “It’s really nice to meet you, too.” You put your hand out automatically, meaning to be polite, and motion to the shop beside you. “Beautiful, right? My sister does great work.”
"It’s your sister's shop?" He asks, glancing back over to the window and then back to you. When you nod, Jack grins and straightens up. "Fine work," he praises. "Probably better that most shops that I've seen charge a thousand dollars a setting."
“She ships long distance and does all kinds of special arrangements.” You tell him, puffed up with pride for your hardworking big sister. “I have her card upstairs, and you should pop in before you leave town. Bring something back to your wife or whoever’s at home.”
"No wife." He shakes his head and winks at you. "Yet." He doubts he would ever marry, his life not exactly conducive to having a little lady putter around the house. "But I know that I send flowers all the time to clients and associates."
“I’ll make sure you leave with Kate’s card, then.” Nodding toward the building, you can’t avoid the little shiver that wink gave you, as silly as it is. “Would you like to come up?”
"I never turn down a pretty lady inviting me upstairs." Jack hums, enjoying the way you seem to fluster. You will look amazing on Javi's arm at the Grammys but that doesn't mean that he couldn't flirt with you and pay you a compliment or ten.
It’s just one flight of stairs that opens into your little place, but the meowing is immediate when your black cat pops out of nowhere and starts inspecting the new arrival. “Pyewacket, be nice to Mr. Daniels,” you instruct, giving her fur a ruffle on your way through the living room. “Can I offer you a drink? Something to eat?”
Jack eyes the fluffy black cat as if he might get attacked and edges past it. Never been a cat man, although it seems to be staring at him judgmentally. "I'm good with a drink." He accepts with a nod and looks at the small dining room table. "Perhaps we can go over the contracts and disclosures here?" He asks.
“Of course.” After going through the drink options you end up pouring two glasses of iced tea and setting them down on the clean table. “I understand the basics. Don’t talk about private things that I might see or hear, and to make sure I actually show up at the appointed time and place or legal action can be taken against me.”
"Right." Jack grins, reaching into his briefcase to pull out the paperwork. "There's also a little disclaimer that any and all sexual activity happens with consent of both parties." He winks at you again and shrugs. "Just in case."
“I—um—okay, that’s…” You look at him curiously. “Is that…something that happens? With these things?” It would be the first you’ve ever heard of anything like it — but then again there is also an NDA on your table right now.
"If you and Javi wanted it to." He admits with a small grin. "Animal attraction and all. This just states that neither you nor Javi are required to provide intimate acts and if any transpire that it is of your own free will."
“It seems way more likely that I’ll overhear something, but I get it. You have to protect your client.” And since absolutely fucking nothing is happening without your consent - thank you self defense classes - you nod and pick up a pen. “So what happens? I arrive at some decent but inexpensive hotel, stylist dresses me so I look halfway decent, and I walk down the red carpet with him then get sent back to the hotel? Quick and dirty, as they say?”
Jack snorts and shakes his head. "Oh no." He hums, sending you a cocky smirk. "You will have a suite at the Biltmore Los Angeles and the stylists will be measuring you the day you arrive to make sure the gowns they pull for you to choose from are your size. We have artists come in to do your hair and makeup following a full spa day."
“Oh.” That’s a hell of a lot more than you expected, and you can’t help but feel a little special and a lot flustered. “That’s a hell of a way to make a girl feel special, Mr. Daniels.”
"This is a once in a lifetime event, darlin'." Jack admits with a charming grin. "Javi's startin' off his U.S. tour with a bang."
“Yeah, I—um…my best friend and I actually pre-ordered our tickets the day the email went out.” You look down into your iced tea sheepishly, but you entered a damn contest for a date. They already know you’re a fan. “Fan Club early access tickets…”
"Fan club, huh?" Jack chuckles and he bites his lip. "Well, we'll just have to upgrade our contest winner to VIP tickets." He decides. "Can't have the woman who goes to the Grammys with Javi G watching his concert from anywhere but front row."
Sure you could demure and say it isn’t necessary, but you’re not at all going to turn down that kind of offer. The nearest big concert venue to you is a decent drive away and you and your best friend had already planned on having to get a hotel room for the night on top of everything else. It is going to be an extra big deal now. “I’m very happy to be extra positive publicity for you,” you tell him instead, knowing that that is probably his biggest and main concern. It doesn’t bother you one bit.
"Good." He smiles and nods. "Not necessary but we will take all the social media coverage we can get." He does level you a serious look. "Before the winner is announced...you should probably make security changes to your accounts." He warns. "Just in case."
“What do you mean?” The ink is on the page now, your signature on the dotted line of the contract appointing you the winner of the contest, so you sit up to pay attention.
"Sometimes fans can be...invasive." He's sure he doesn't have to tell you about it if you are part of the fan club but he does want to warn you. "Make sure that you aren't getting random DMs and that you accept friends. I'm sure that as soon as it is announced, you will find you have thousands of new followers overnight."
“It will be a very busy weekend, then, I guess.” The email that had been sent to you said the announcement was coming within days of your contract being signed, so that can only be soon. After all, the Grammys are in three weeks. “I’ll change my passwords and privacy settings and all of that. Lock it down. Thanks for the tip.”
"Don't want this experience to be anything but magical." Jack winks again and snaps his fingers. "Oh! Damn near forgot, Javi recorded you a message."
“Oh, that’s—that’s so sweet.” So what if it was in his contract? Or if it was just a thing he would have done for any person who won the contest? It’s still nice.
Nodding, he pulls out his phone and opens up the video. "I'll send it to you, it's going to be posted on the official Javi G tour site after the announcement of your win as well."
The message pops up on your phone right away while you begin to read the NDA, glad to have just a tiny bit of legal knowledge from this and that over time. This one looks nearly identical to one that you signed for a work event some time ago so you sign it without fear. The last piece is the paper listing sexual activity as unattached to the contest and of the own free will of its participants and you shake your head all over again. How many people really just fall into bed with celebrities just because they’re famous? It seems so silly.
Javier Gutierrez, known as Javi G to his fans, pops up on the screen and he flashes the sweet smile that has melted men and women's hearts across Spain and Europe. Now destined to become a major success in the United States. "Buenos dias!" He waves and says your name. "I cannot tell you how I am looking forward to our date." He seemingly speaks to you, making eye contact with the camera. "Perhaps you will make me not so nervous." He chuckles nervously as he says that and continues on. "We will have a wonderful time at the Grammys and who knows?" He shrugs. "You might inspire a new song, cariño." He blows a kiss to the camera. "See you soon."
“He always seems so sweet.” Who knows if it’s a character or not, but even in his little Instagram posts or things like that, he always seems completely earnest and giddy. Like he can’t believe his good luck or something. “Is there anything else I should know? Before the day, I mean?”
"Javi has requested a brunch, or lunch, depending on how hungover the two of you might be." Jack smirks because he knows that is very likely. "Something simple, low key with no social media. His way of thanking you."
“No dressers for that, I’m assuming?” You tease because it’s in your nature, but you make a mental note to pack your favourite dress to have brunch in. “I can definitely do brunch. Best meal ever invented.”
“L.A. is the city to have it in then.” Jack sweeps up all the signed paperwork and nods. “You will be sent an electronic version of these papers as well. We just like having physical copies.”
“Sure. Makes sense.” Another nod, as you wonder why this agent came all the way out here himself. “Do you…need anything else from me? Clothing sizes, probably?” There had been no request for physical indicators of any kind in the contest entry, so it’s not like he has them on file unless he’s a creeper.
Jack shakes his head. “The stylist will measure you when you land in L.A.” He explains. “Women’s sizes are so varied from brand to brand.”
“Okay.” Nervous again, you shrug your shoulders and take the last sip of your iced tea. “So is that it? I really have no idea how this works. Obviously.”
“Well…yeah.” Jack frowns slightly and picks up his tea again. “The ticket will be sent to you, we are flying you out two days before the Grammys, then back home two days after.” He shrugs slightly. “What questions do ya got for me?”
“Wait, it’s four days?” You almost startle at that news, but manage to shut your mouth after a few seconds. “Okay, uh…what arrangements do I have to make for myself? Hotel for the other nights? Flight home? Obviously you guys aren’t buying my meals or anything.”
Jack frowns. “Darlin’, I’m sorry, I guess you didn’t read the fine print.” He tuts, shaking his head. “Everything is included. There and back. You are not going to pay for a thing. At least I hope the $300 a day spending money for meals is enough.” They had wanted to make this contest as popular as possible, garnering attention and excitement for Javi G’s tour and it seems as though you didn’t even know what you were getting.
The disbelieving laugh that that news earns him bursts out of you like an explosion and you end up giggling nervously. “I…had had a lot of wine that night,” you admit. “And I never went back to reread the contest information because I didn’t figure there was any chance I would win.”
“Surprise.” He chuckles and tilts his head. “The prize includes first class flights to L.A. and back, the entire stay at the Biltmore and twelve hundred dollars to be spent at your discretion for food. For four days. And the room service in the hotel is included with the room.”
“I’ll grab a city map and a rental car when I land and I’ll be good to go.” Sitting back in your chair, you blow out a breath and laugh again. “This is a hell of a contest, Mr. Daniels. It’s really a very impressive prize.”
He sighs and rolls his eyes. “I knew there was something they forgot.” He hisses, shaking his head. “We will make sure there’s a car at the hotel.”
“Oh no, that’s not—!” You bite your lip and hope you haven’t gotten some poor office lackey in trouble. “It’s very generous of you.”
“Convertible okay?” He wants to make sure he smooths over this oversight so you are happy as a pig in the mud when you post your stories online. “Drive down Hollywood Boulevard Marilyn style?”
Nearly choking on the first sip of a new glass of tea, your eyes go wide when you look up at him again. “I—that car? The broken down piece of crap you were standing next to downstairs? That’s been my car for seven years and she has been that bad the whole time I’ve had her. A convertible is insane.”
“Then the videos you post – safely – of you driving it with the wind blowing through your hair will be spectacular.” Jack winks.
“Very safely.” You can promise him that with your hand on your heart.
“It’s gonna be a great trip, darlin’.” Jack predicts. “Javi’s gonna love you and you’re gonna feel like a star.”
“I’m very excited.” It felt like a dream to begin with, but now all this? It’s incredible. It’s a fairy tale.
“Perfect.” Jack thinks you’re beautiful and if he didn’t have this contest that needed to be fulfilled, he would be hitting on you. “Only three weeks until you will be in L.A. and posing with Javi on the red carpet.”
******
The first two days in LA are like a whirlwind, posting things to your social media in between sending texts back to your best friend and your sister, doing as many touristy things as you can manage and eating some of the best food you've ever had in your life. This city is like nothing you've ever experienced before and you're enjoying every second of it. The day of the Grammys is an all-day spa treatment for you until you head back to your hotel room. Room service is waiting for you there, and the team of stylists arrive very soon after. The army of dresses that they have with them are all so stunning that you can barely get a good look at one before you're sighing over the next, and they are ready and excited to get to work.
“Knock knock.” Javi can hear the chattering and laughter inside as he stands outside the hotel room with his suit. His hair is already carefully styled and the stylist that is working with you right now is going to finish his look here in your room. Jack had wanted candid photos of you and him getting ready together.
"Oh my god." Sitting at the vanity in the hotel room in your robe and slippers, you swear you nearly fall over right in your chair. "It's you!"
“It’s me.” The door had been left open, due to the people coming in and out of your suite, so he pushes the door open and pops his head inside. “Can I come in?”
"O–of course!" Making sure you're covered by your robe, you get up to offer him your hand and find the smile on your face is even broader than you thought it would be. He's even more handsome in person...how is that possible?
The stylist quickly takes the suit from Javi, leaving him free to take your hand and pull you in for a hug. “Are you excited? I am excited. What a thrilling night!” He rambles, squeezing you tight and pulling back to beam at you, “Jack was right, but he always is.”
"Jack was right you'd be excited?" He smells amazing despite it probably just being soap, and he's so warm that it radiates through you like you're hugging a ball of pure energy in the form of a man. Or maybe the form of a Golden Retriever Man.
“Jack was right that you are even more beautiful than your picture.” Javi corrects with a shy smile.
"I..." What the hell do you even say to that, when it's being said by the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life? "Thank you." Lame. "You're–I mean–you're incredibly sweet." Thank god you stopped yourself before you told him that he is beautiful, too. That would have been a hell of a way to start the night.
Javi frowns slightly as he panics slightly. “I did not mean to offend.” He hastily corrects, biting his lip. “I– I messed it up, didn’t I? Now you are uncomfortable and will not want to attend the Grammys with me.”
"Javi..." Surprising both of you, you reach out and put your hand on his arm. "I got tongue tied. I was about to tell you that you look beautiful instead of saying handsome. It's...you did nothing wrong. I'm just excited and very nervous."
He swallows, taking a deep breath and sighing out softly. “I–I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “Normally I can pretend to be more collected but I am nervous.” He admits.
"It's okay." Both of you end up laughing a little, and you step back to let him further into the room. "We were about to have a great debate over which gown to put me in. Do you want to weigh in?"
“You have not chosen yet?” He is surprised but delighted. “Have you tried any on yet?”
"They took my measurements when I got into the city two days ago and now I get to try stuff on and pretend to be a model." It's completely surreal and you're enjoying every second of it, if you're honest with yourself. The fact that people have whole lives like this is insane.
“You will look incredible.” Javi has no problem slipping into the chair that you had just vacated and he taps his chin as he thinks. “Is there a dress that matches my suit?” He asks the stylist. “Or should we not coordinate?”
The woman tips her head at Javi for a moment before nodding slightly and pulling away to sift through the garment bags that she brought. "We can make your accessories match," she tells him confidently. "You have pearl and gold cufflinks and gold horsebit on velvet loafers. For her," she nods to you while she talks. "I have two velvet gowns. Both will work with gold and pearl accessories." One gown is lush black velvet and the other is seductive red, both in vintage cuts. "How about one of these?"
Javi looks to you for your opinion. You will be wearing the dress after all. “What do you think?” He asks, genuinely wanting your input. “If you would rather something else, that is perfectly fine too.”
"Velvet is great. I'm not upset about that option." You're not upset about any of this, and you step toward the stylist with the dorkiest thumbs up known to man. "Let's try both on and see which one looks better."
Javi chuckles and nods. “That sounds like a perfect plan. Shall we have some champagne?”
Champagne. On Grammy night. With your favourite singer of all time. While you try on designer gowns. If you could go back in time and tell Little You about all this you'd never believe yourself. "Absolutely. Let's do it. You pour and I'll be right back."
Javi knows that the bucket of champagne is going to arrive soon. Jack had assured him that he was ordering one for when you were meeting him. Knowing that some champagne would calm him down.
Disappearing for the time it takes to wiggle into the red dress, you glimpse yourself in the mirror long enough that you almost sigh. It's stunning. Reminiscent of old Hollywood, it fits and flares in all the right places and the back hangs low enough to show off a whole lot of skin. Unfortunately, you note as you step out for Javi to see the dress on you, it's a little hard to walk in because it is so form fitting.
Immediately, Javi frowns when he sees your lips pinched together in concentration. “What is wrong with it?” He asks, leaning forward. It’s stunning, to be sure, but he will not have you uncomfortable for the entire night.
Biting your lip just gives you away even further, and you shrug a little helplessly. "I'm not very good at being elegant, I guess," you have to laugh to not be embarrassed. "It's a little hard to walk in."
Javi nods seriously, his brows pinching together. You look sexy in the dress and he knows it is flattering, but if you aren’t comfortable, it’s not the dress for you. “No.” He decides, shaking his head. “I wish for you to be comfortable.” He flashes a grin with a roll of his eyes. “As comfortable as you can get in a formal dress.”
The horror stories of being sewn into red carpet gowns, not being able to breathe, or walking in one specific way all night are thankfully not in your future, and you smile gratefully. “Okay. I’ll put on the other one. Be right back.”
“It is beautiful though!” Javi calls after you, watching you toddle out of the room into the bedroom of your suite.
He’s right, obviously. It’s a stunning gown and gorgeously made, but the one and only time you ever walk a red carpet is not going to be a night you have to hold your breath and tiptoe in order to exist. The black velvet dress is slightly shorter, the silhouette is much more comfortable, and the intricate pattern in the material is accented by an off-the -shoulder neckline that makes you feel elegant without being too exposed. It’s perfect, and you know the second you walk out that the difference is immediate.
Javi sits up straight in his chair, captivated by both the dress on your body and the shy smile that lights up your face. You feel good in this dress and that makes you even more stunning. “Estás preciosa. Impresionante.” He murmurs as he stands. “Yes, this is – it is beautiful.”
“It’s so comfortable,” you barely stifle a giggle, gleeful and unable to really wrap your head around your own good luck. “You, um…you like it?” As surreal as it is to have this monumentally talented international star sitting there gauging your appearance in red carpet fashion, you don’t feel as nervous as you thought you would. As you did right when he came in. He just had such a positive energy about him that it puts you right at ease.
“It’s is perfect, no?” Javi bobbles his head enthusiastically as he looks at the stylist for some back up. “She looks like she is a celebrity herself.”
“She will be after tonight.” The stylist hums her approval. “Sit down, honey. Have a drink, chat, whatever you like. Just don’t move your head a lot while we’re putting your look together, okay?”
“Drink. Chat. Don’t move,” you laugh lightly at the directions and sit back down again, delighting when Javi himself hands you a glass of champagne. The last two days have been surreal, and this has just leveled up to crazy.
“It is easy to do once you remember not to look at everyone.” Javi assures you, sitting down in the chair that has been set up next to yours for last minute touch ups. It will allow him to chat with you and get to know you before the red carpet. “Are you looking forward to the awards?”
“Yeah, absolutely!” It’s such a once in a lifetime chance for you, what’s not to love? “I have no idea what to really expect, though.” A laugh comes easily but you have to remind yourself not to shrug. “I watch it on TV like most other people, but I have a feeling that a lot of stuff happens that isn’t shown on the broadcast.”
“We will find out together.” Javi admits with a giddy grin. It will be his first American Grammy Awards show and he is looking forward to it. “But we will have fun. I am sure of it.”
“We absolutely will.” Looking at him in the mirror as the stylists go to work on both of you, the whole thing is just…it’s perfect. It’s the story you’ll tell for the rest of your life. That time you reached Peak Awesome by winning a contest.
“And then we have the after parties.” He chuckles with an excited grin. “Sharing a drink with all my favorite artists.”
“Are we supposed to go to certain ones?” You had re-read the contract and contest rules over the last few weeks and there was a lot you had missed in your wine haze when you had entered.
“We will make an appearance for Jack. The main party….” He snaps his fingers, unable to think of the name. “Then we can choose where we would go.”
“Universal Music Group.” You remember that one, considering it’s such a big deal. “Jack did a really amazing job setting all of this up.”
“Jack is wonderful at everything he does.” Javi assures you with a small smile. “He has guaranteed my success in the States.”
“Well,” the smile you aim at him in the mirror is shy. “I already have my ticket for the tour. Jack, um…upgraded it. To VIP. So tonight won’t be the only time you see me, it seems.”
“Wonderful!” Javi lights up happily. “I might have to pull you up on stage with me.” He teases with a small wink. “Croon a few songs while you are there and make everyone in the stadium jealous.”
This man just does not do things by half, does he? It makes you wish you had about three more glasses of champagne to justify this bubbly feeling. “Well…he also put me and my best friend in the front row…so if you wanted to, we’ll be right there.”
“Your best friend? Is she a fan as well?” He asks, his eyes wide and sincere. “Or are you dragging her along for someone to attend with you?”
“She’s a fan, too.” You assure him, watching in the mirror as the stylist carefully sets the curls in his hair. “We watch Eurovision together every year, and the first time you performed for Spain…three years ago? You absolutely should have won, by the way, but we’ve both been fans ever since.”
“Thank you.” Javi still has a hard time accepting compliments, even as long as he has been performing, so a blush darkens his tanned features. “I am grateful that you think so. That is what matters to me, people enjoy my music.”
"There are a lot of us out there." If you thought he was sweet before, now you just want to wrap him up in cuddles and protect him with everything you've got. He's just a nice man who wants people to connect to him, and he's so endearing that it makes you ache. "You have a huge community of fans out there. All over the world."
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He ducks his head, causing his stylist to huff and remind him about staying still. “Oh! Sorry.” He catches your eyes in the mirror and winces, although he is grinning slightly.
"I promise, you do." Considering you're a member of that community, you would know. But either way, you beam his smile back at him in the mirror. "There are a lot of people in the States who are very excited to see you come over here. It's going to be great."
“I hope so.” He gushes. “I have always dreamed of coming over to American music billboards. ‘Crossing over’.”
His excitement is so sweet and pure, and you can't help the way your smile spreads and spreads the more you talk to him. "I don't know anything about distribution or profits or tours or any of that. But as a fan? There are so many of us who are so excited about this. I think it's going to go really well for you."
“Fingers crossed as the saying goes.” Javi is grateful that you seem to be such an encouraging person and his eyes light up. “We should call your friend!”
"Would you mind it?" Your phone is out on the vanity in front of you and you had thirty seconds worth of forethought this morning to change your lockscreen from a picture of Javi to one of you and your friend and your sister in her florist shop so that when he nods and you pick up your phone it isn't a cringeworthy moment.
“Not at all. You should FaceTime her!” He insists, eyes sparkling with the excitement of surprising your friend.
"Her name is Esme." You're practically giggling as you tap your phone screen, and grateful when the stylists move him slightly closer to you while they work so that you can both be seen in the small screen. "She's going to absolutely lose her mind. So...just be warned."
“That is okay.” He grins as he leans over a bit more to smoosh his face next to yours in the screen as you try to connect to your friend.
The phone rings twice before she picks up, but Esme is currently cat sitting for you and it's Pyewacket's face that greets you instead of your best friend's. "Hey Pye!" You coo at your cat, who looks confused as hell to see you in a little window instead of all in front of her. "Es...put the cat down and say hello," you giggle, still making faces at your cat.
“Aren’t you calling for a Pye check in?” Esme laughs as the feline jumps down and she turns the camera towards her face. “So how is it–” Her eyes widen and she starts to squeal. “OH MY GOD, Oh my god! Javi G!”
"I'm calling to say hi," you cackle, nearly keeling over in your chair to the dismay of your stylist. "Javi thought we should give you a call."
“Oh my god, oh my god, hiiiiiiiiiii.” She gasps out, nearly about to pass out from not taking a breath yet. “I can’t believe that I’m talking to you!”
"I told you," you smirk to the man beside you, but it's all good natured. Everyone deserves a little love and encouragement, right? His just comes from fans. "Es, you have to breathe, babe," you remind her over the camera.
“I’m so sorry.” She looks stricken for a moment. Embarrassed that she might be embarrassing Javi G.
“Hello.” Javi finally has a moment to speak and he smiles indulgently into the camera. “Do not be sorry. I am happy to meet you Esme. You have a beautiful name.”
“Y-you’re beautiful,” she giggles, like she isn’t a grown ass woman of thirty. “I mean— ah, my friend is the smart one. I’m okay with that. You’re meeting her, she’s the smart one.”
“Oh, you’re going to lose it even harder at the concert in a couple of months,” you can’t help but laugh, really. Esme wears her heart on her sleeve and doesn’t apologize for it.
“I will send your friend home with an autograph for you. Is that okay?” Javi asks, raising his brows in question.
“That would be amazing!” Esme squeaks. She would be clapping her hands with glee if she didn’t also have to be holding up her phone. “I’m gonna record the whole thing on your DVR tonight, babe,” she promises you eagerly. “You’ll have it to watch over and over.”
“I will talk to you again before she leaves.” Javi promises before kissing his hand. “Ciao Esme!” He knows they can’t keep talking, needing to finish getting ready and there needs to be behind the scenes photos taken.
“I love you, honey, I’ll call you later!” You promise her before having to end the call. The clock is ticking and it’s almost time to go. “That was incredibly sweet of you. I know she’ll never forget that in a million years.”
“It was a small thing.” He shrugs one shoulder and gives you an embarrassed grin. “We will have to call during brunch so you can talk longer.”
“Jack said the brunch was your idea?” You ask, setting your phone back on the vanity. “I think it’s absolutely perfect. Brunch is absolutely my favorite meal.”
“I figured that even though the Grammys are exciting, we won’t get a lot of time to talk.” Javi reasons. “But brunch? Brunch is perfect for talking.”
As if to prove his point, the stylists move over to do a full face of makeup on you and just a few small touches on him - bits of eyeliner and glitter that the naked eye would hardly perceive but that enhances his look so much.
Javi grins in the mirror as you open your mouth so the lipstick can be painted on the interior of them far beyond what women normally do. “It should withstand any eating or drinking,” the stylist tells you when she is done, and she puts the tube down next to your phone. “But keep it with you for touch ups just in case.”
“I am glad I do not have to wear that.” Javi hums.
“It’s not so bad.” Lipstick always feels glamorous to you, adding to that elegant celebrity vibe that tonight is giving you, especially after spending all day at the spa. “Besides,” you grin and it wrinkles your nose. “You have more glitter on than I do.”
“To make me sparkle on camera.” He rolls his eyes but he knows the effect will look good on film.
“It’s cute,” you promise him easily. The jewelry and accessories have come out now – the very last thing before you are ready to get into the car to head to the red carpet.
Javi stands and smiles at you. "Now I must put on my own suit to match your beauty."
The whole thing takes less time than you would think, but by the time you’re ready to take pre-show pictures the stylist who is snapping them for you is making silly jokes about adult prom while he does his tie and you check your purse one last time to make sure you have everything. The night is going to be absolutely incredible and you’re starting to vibrate with excitement.
"I must confess." He takes your hand and leans close. "I have been so nervous for tonight that I have not eaten anything." He whispers. "Have you?"
“I’m the opposite.” His hands seem almost twice the size of yours, enveloping yours and keeping you close. “I’ve been nibbling all day to try to take my mind off being nervous.”
"So you would not want a pit stop by In & Out?" He asks, almost pouting at the idea. "I have a wish for their fries and American Coke."
“Well, I think we have to.” You’ve been nibbling today, picking at fruit and cheese, charcuterie and spiced nuts at the spa. As much tea as you could drink. The room service tray was delicious but definitely picked over. But fast food with a pop star is way better than some of the things you had on your proverbial Bingo card for tonight. “I’ve never had In & Out. We don’t have them where I’m from.”
"We can have the driver swing through the drive through on the way." He grins mischievously and nods. "We can experience it together."
“It will make a very silly story in an interview one day. I think it’s an excellent idea.” His phone goes off on the table again, flashing as it sits beside yours, and you see Jack’s name pop up on the screen. “I think you might have some instructions, or hopefully some encouragements, incoming.”
Javi picks up his phone, his face lighting up when he hears his agent's voice. “Rey,” he hums, grinning at you as he speaks. “We are just about to leave.”
“Está bien, zorro.” Jack’s voice on the other end is pleased and honeyed. “Y’all got everythin’ you need? Clothes fit, stylists done their duty? Car should be downstairs waiting for you.”
“Sí.” Javi bobble his head even if Jack cannot see him. His hand reaches up for the necklace around his neck. “We have already taken some pictures, rey. They are fantastico. She is more beautiful that I imagined.”
“I knew you’d like her.” Jack seems satisfied at the choice, and his voice pitches low for a moment. “Now you two behave and I’ll see you at the party. Buena suerte esta noche.” Good luck tonight.
“Sí.” He hums warmly, smiling as he pulls the phone away to look back at you. “Jack will be joining us at the party.”
“Then we better make sure we have fun before that.” Boldly putting out your hand to him, you nod to the door of the suite. “So we can have plenty to tell him.”
He takes your hand and grins. “Are you enjoying your prize so far?”
“It’s absolutely amazing.” And why does holding his hand feel like the sweetest, giddiest thing in the world? Esme’s going to be hearing about this forever, she really is. You could just melt over it. “I still have two more days here after tonight and I just…it’s more than I ever thought it could be. Going home is going to be such a bummer.”
"Where are you from?" Jack had told him the town, but he couldn't remember off the top of his head. You both are out the door and striding down the hallway with the stylists snapping photos of you. Jack probably told them to do that.
“Seymour’s Bay, New Jersey.” It’s a small town that almost no one has ever heard of, and you shrug a little. “We’re a ninety minute drive from New York City, and we have an old style amusement park. Those are about the only notable things from my town.”
"I see." He nods and once you are on the elevator, he squeezes your hand. "So what do you do, Belleza?"
“It’s…kind of weird.” You admit, feeling very schoolgirl in your beautiful dress while the man of your dreams holds your hands on the way to a very fancy party. “I’m a researcher for a podcast. True crime, a lot of history, some supernatural stuff. Sometimes we talk about movies made about true events and what they got right or wrong. It’s basically me and my cat and a whole lot of books.”
"Interesting." Javi doesn't think it's weird, but he frowns slightly. "Do you do the podcast? Or do you just research for it?"
"I research for it." The frown makes you certain that you've completely weirded him out or made him uncomfortable, and you shrug again. "I studied to be a librarian, but through a series of random events, I ended up becoming a researcher instead. My bosses are great, though, and I can work from home. So it's way better than a lot of other jobs based on just that."
"That is unfortunate." Javi shakes his head. "I think you would be good at the podcast." He smiles. "You have a beautiful voice and I was hoping I could listen to you sometime."
"Anytime you want to hear it, you just give me a call," you joke, never thinking for a million years that he would actually do such a thing.
Javi nods seriously, making a note to himself that he needs to have Jack give him your number. The elevator starts to slow down and he sighs, squeezing your still joined hands. "The car should already be waiting for us."
It is, just as Jack had promised, and the crowd of fans and paparazzi outside that had gotten wind of where he would be are held at bay as you and Javi are ushered quickly into the backseat. More luxurious than any sedan but not quite a limousine, you're glad all over again to be wearing the less cumbersome dress of what you tried on. There is plenty of room to stretch out and be comfortable as the driver pulls quickly away from the hotel entrance.
"I didn't think that there would be so many outside." His eyes widen and he looks back at the crowd that gathered and was still snapping pics as you drive away. "That's crazy."
"Some members of your fandom are...a little more zealous than others." No one was overtly rude or acted out or anything like that, which was fortunate, but it's a very good thing that the car's windows are tinted. The further you get from the group, the harder it will be to pick out your nondescript car from all the other black cars with tinted windows in LA.
Javi scoots forward so he can tap on the the divider between the driver and the you. When the window rolls down, he shoots the driver a grin. "Can we stop by In & Out?" He asks. "We want to grab some food and drinks before the red carpet."
The driver chuckles, obviously having heard this request before, and he nods. "Sure thing, Mr. Gutierrez. There's also some drinks in the cooler built into the seat between you, if you want them. Not sure what Mr. Daniels put in."
"I'm sure Jack put in all my favorites." He grins and nods before he sits back. "Jack stocked the drink cooler in here." He tells you before he reaches for the pull down for the seat.
"He seems to think of everything." When Javi pulls the cooler open there are half bottles of Spanish cava from a vineyard on his home island along with a plethora of canned cocktails in every flavour imaginable and, of course, water bottles. You have to admit to being impressed. Jack seems to be an incredibly thorough man. And that thought turns dirty very quickly.
"He does." Javi nods as he pulls out a bottle of the cava and starts to twist to the wire off the cork to open it. "Shall we share a drink before our fries?" He offers.
"Wine and French fries is actually a combination I've done before," you roll your eyes at yourself. "Because I'm clearly the classiest person you know. But yes, absolutely let's celebrate."
"Cava and papas fritas are a match made in Heaven." Javi insists, popping open the bottle and taking a swig directly from it before offering it to you. "I can open your own if you do not wish to share."
"I'm not fussy." He's charmingly normal, and yet also you don't think you've ever met anyone like him before in your life. He is simultaneously vibrating like an overexcited chihuahua and as laid back as any housecat. When he offers you the bottle you take it, enjoying the heady buzz of more bubbly in your system. Nowhere near even tipsy, you're simply relaxed.
"I must confess." He turns towards you with an earnest expression and leans in close. "I am surprised by how normal you are." His eyes widen, realizing how horrible that sounds. "I mean, how normal you are taking all of this" He rushes out, cursing himself for insulting you. "I would be about to jump out of my skin and you are so cool and composed."
"It's partly the bubbly," you admit with a guilty grin. "But..." Pressing your lips together when you move the bottle away from them makes you look even guiltier, but you can't help it. "I'm just trying really really hard not to weird you out. Like Esme's reaction when we called? I've been doing that on the inside for the entire time."
"Do you want to know a secret?" Javi asks, his eyes widening and he leans in closer to you.
"Very much." And you will keep it secret and safe for as long as you live, just glad to have these memories to hold on to.
"I feel like that all the time." His eyes widen in seriousness and he bites his lip. "I am always anxiously bouncing off the walls and wondering if everyone around me thinks I am crazy."
"How many people have ever referred to you as a puppy to your face?" You ask with a grin, knowing that the majority of the American fandom refers to him as a 'golden retriever boyfriend' with maximum affection. His brow furrows in confusion and he tilts his head to the side as he looks at you. Trying to figure out what you mean by that. "It means you're excitable and sweet and you have really positive energy." The last thing you want is for him to think that you're covertly taking a dig at him or something, because it's completely the opposite. "Your happiness is infectious."
"Oh." Javi nods as he smiles at you, understanding what you are saying now. "Then it is a good thing."
"It absolutely is." You would never have said it otherwise, but you feel a little hazy from how close he is. His presence really is intoxicating.
"I look like a puppy, hm?" He asks, leaning in a little more. "A cute puppy?"
It's criminal the way your heart leaps in your chest, but you're flustering before you can even blink. "I think the agreed upon term is...'Golden Retriever Boyfriend'," you admit sheepishly.
"Golden...Retriever...boyfriend..." He says it slowly, letting the words roll on his tongue. Biting his lip again as he thinks about the nickname that he is apparently known by. "Do a lot of people call me that?"
"I–" You could lie. You could. Or play it off. But you just sort of giggle as he passes the bottle back to you to sip from again. "...yeah. At least, in America they do."
"Maybe I should get a dog." He thinks with a grin. "They have such loving little faces and always love you."
"You should do what makes you happy." It's good advice that you can never seem to follow for yourself, but he absolutely deserves all the good things in the world.
"Do you have any pets?" He asks, feeling the car slow down and turn. He looks out the window and grins when he sees the iconic sign for the west coast fast food joint.
"The cat in the phone call?" You grin at the excited look on his face. "She's mine. Pyewacket...like the cat from Bell, Book, and Candle."
"Ohhhh, she was pretty." He nods, grinning. "Sleek looking, have you had her long?"
"She's two now and I've had her since she was twelve weeks old." That beautiful black cat is your favourite roommate and only child, and you love having her. "Someday maybe I'll get her a puppy sibling. But the apartment I live in is a little too small for that right now."
"Mr. G." The driver clears his throat. "We are nearing the window. "What would you and your guest like to eat?" He asks politely.
The two of you collaborate on an order in the backseat just in time for the driver to order at the speaker, and only a few minutes later you have a bag between you and Javi's craving for American Coke is being fulfilled. "Should have enough of a drive to enjoy your snack before we get there," the driver tells you, fully amused before he puts up the separator again.
"I'm so excited." Javi confesses, even as he starts opening napkins to start draping over your lap to protect your dress. "I have heard so many good things about this and have not had time to try it before now."
"Are you that busy getting ready for your tour?" It must be an immense amount of work, but you don't really have any bearing on what goes into it. Not really.
"Rehearsals are normally fifteen hour days." He admits with a rueful grin. "Another reason I have been looking forward to the Grammys. It's a break."
"Fifteen?" That sounds like torture, and you immediately offer him some French fries like an apology. "Please tell me you have all kinds of people whose literal job it is to take care of you, because that's insane."
"Jack makes sure that I am well rested." He assures you, smiling at how thoughtful you are to worry about him. "It will get better. Hard work now to insure that the tour is perfect."
"It will be perfect." Of that you have no doubt. He's an amazing performer with incredible talent and dedication. "And I'm glad you have someone to look out for you. I know...people always say that being famous is lonely, and you're too sweet for that."
"It– it can be lonely." He admits, frowning slightly and reaching for his Coke to take a sip of it. "I do not have many friends." He shouldn't admit this to you. Opening up too much, you could tell people even though there is a NDA that protects him.
"Well that's shitty." Turning to face him completely in the back of the car, you decide that the frown on his face is completely unacceptable and you shake your head. "You have one more. If you want to, I mean. You want to talk to somebody, or vent about your day, or whatever, you just drop me a line, okay? And if you ever want to see the lamest town in New Jersey sometime, I'll take you to the broken-down amusement park for the probably-unsafe rides and rigged carnival games."
"Really?" He asks, surprised by the offer. People often want to be close to him, to get things from him, but it's never an offer to just listen. "That is– that is very nice of you." He chokes out, emotional from the gesture.
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." In a moment that might qualify as juvenile if it didn't feel so honest and pure, you stick out your pinky finger to him and grin. "Pinky promise. Jack has my number and my email, but I'll give it all to you at brunch tomorrow if you really want it. Friends shouldn't be hard to come by for somebody as nice as you are."
His grin lights up his face and he eagerly hooks his finger around yours. "I know it seems silly to not have friends." He admits. "My family kept me isolated. Practicing to become famous was more important than friends."
"My family put pressure on me in other ways. And I know I don't have any kind of demanding career like you do, but I get it. When they decide they know what's best for you they never let go." Squeezing his finger gently in yours, the two of you are back to your snack in no time. "I do shifts in my sister's flower shop to keep them quiet. The whole family are all florists except me."
"Florists?" His brows shoot up and he hums. "They create beauty and they can't understand why it doesn't fulfill you."
"I am...not very artistic," you admit, picking up another French fry. It's official. In & Out is amazing. "I can appreciate beauty, and music, and art, and theater, and all of it. But I'm not good at making it myself. So sometimes I run the cash register for my sister on busy days or help with shipments. But arrangements? Esme and Kate do all that."
"There is nothing wrong with that." He shoves some fries into his mouth and follows it up immediately with a sip of Coke, moaning at the taste of it combined. "You have to have a sip of Coke with your fries."
It's not exotic for you at all, but he is so excited that you lean over and accept a sip of Coke without a second thought. There really is something so fantastically satisfying about simple, greasy fast food while you're all dressed up that is so much fun. "So are you right back to rehearsals tomorrow after brunch, or do you still have time to relax?"
"I will start back rehearsals next week." He tells you with a grin. "The last week before the tour starts. They don't want me to be too tired at the start of the tour." One more week of practice and then the last week before the kickoff will be spent relaxing.
"So you have time to relax and enjoy yourself." That makes you nod with authority you definitely don't have. "Good. You should do things with your time that make you happy. Collect lots of memories. You never know where inspiration can strike, right?"
"I am hoping to." He smiles although there is a hint of secrecy in the curve of his lips as he says it. "There are a lot of things that I wish to experience. Especially if I am going to make the move to America permanent."
"Are you?" That rumor hasn't even hit the most in the know members of the fandom as far as you can tell, and you make the motion of an ‘x’ over your chest. "I signed the NDA, Javi. I won't say a word, I swear. But that's so exciting!"
He flushes again, realizing he has misspoken and yet with your hand reaching out to take his, he relaxes slightly. "I shouldn't have said that, but I'm glad someone knows." He admits, knowing that only his people, Jack, know of his plans.
“And hey.” You squeeze his hand gently, a moron he seems to find reassuring. “Even if I hadn’t signed it? We’re friends now. Friends get excited and keep secrets for each other. It’s part of the deal.”
"Thank you." The last few fries are gone quickly and he carefully starts to wipe his fingers free of salt and grease before he checks his suit for any dropped grains.
“Here.” There’s just a few specks of salt on his lapel but you lift them off in the curve of one of the fake nails that the manicurist at the salon gave you earlier today. “There.” There is no stain or mark left behind. No one would ever know you’ve been naughty. “Perfect.”
“Thank you.” He smiles, reaching up to brush a fry crumb from the corner of your lip. “You still look beautiful. And that was delicious.”
“I should check my lipstick, since it’s the one thing the stylists sent with me.” Having him call you beautiful makes you shy. You’re just a normal girl from a normal little town. Not someone Javi G should be calling beautiful.
“Yes.” Javi nods seriously and picks up your purse to hand you, “I will hold anything you need.”
The ride took less time than you thought, and you’re putting away your lipstick and mirror as the car enters the line to deposit you and Javi on the red carpet. “Don’t be nervous,” you encourage, taking his hand briefly. “You’re going to be amazing. I know it.”
"It is show time." He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment. Clinging to your hand when you try to pull it away and flashes you an apologetic grin when the moment passes. "Sorry." He hums.
“Sorry.” You instinctively apologize at the same time, and the two of you end up feeling silly but thankfully not too awkward. “If you need to grab my hand on the carpet, go for it,” you tell him, right before the car door opens. You’re not going to be mad if there is a picture out there in the world of him sweetly holding onto you for support. Just a nice man being nice to his fan.
Javi slides out of the SUV, adopting a charming smile and lifting an arm and waving to the first wave of fans and photographers, buttoning his jacket and turning to help you out of the car. While there are porters to help guests out of the cars but he wants to do it himself. Flashing you a smile as he reaches for your hand.
What you see on tv is so different from what is happening the second that Javi helps you out of the car. It’s so much louder than you expected and with so many more people everywhere. Red carpet interviews and photos give you the impression that things are all very organized and to some degree they are, but there are far more people milling about than you ever would have guessed. The two of you are ferried into a sort of arrivals line - as you make it down the carpet there will be certain places to stop for photo ops and for interviews, and there are handlers to make sure that you go where you need to. But the sheer scale of the event is so much greater than you had ever thought watching it from home.
"Here we go." Javi murmurs under his breath as he smiles and starts to wave again. It's big and loud and reminds him of stadium tours while he was in Europe. You are new to this and he keeps your hand curled around his and when he drops his hand down, he pats your hand and looks at you. "Are you okay?"
“I’m great,” you admit, thoroughly surprising both of you. The whole thing is massively exciting and you’re just soaking it up. “How are you doing? Nerves okay?”
Surprisingly good. He is normally way more nervous about things like this but you are calming him down with your down to earth friendliness and happiness. "I'm good." He insists with a smile, leaning in and kissing your cheek before his hand drifts up to touch his necklace again.
The crowd apparently loves this moment, fans nearby cheering loudly to see something so sweet in front of them. “They’re loving every second of you,” you promise him, grinning from ear to ear.
He smiles shyly, biting his lip as he looks at you soulfully. "I should have asked if that was okay." He murmurs, hoping you didn't mind it too bad.
“More than okay.” Hell, for all you care the guy can stick his tongue down your throat in the middle of the red carpet. Fuck…that’s a thought that is going to fester…
He smiles and nods, kissing your cheek again and this time he doesn't flush when he pulls back. The permission gives him confidence and he sends you a small wink before an event coordinator comes over to guide you down the carpet.
For the first real time tonight, that sheet of paper you signed concerning the possibility of sex pops back into your mind. Not because a kiss on the cheek is inherently sexual but because the nearness of him is so intoxicating.
The first few stops fly by. Charming and vivacious, Javi manages to win them over with a smile and his enthusiastic love of everything American and the joy of being here. He displays you just as much as he can, gushing over how he is enjoying being here with you and pushing you to talk as well.
The first reporter to not know anything about the contest is the first one to ask him to introduce his girlfriend to the world. He looks eager to hear all about it, thinking he might be getting a scoop, but despite the hand holding you both shake your head politely.
"She is my date." Javi clarifies, leaning in. "But she is beautiful, no?" He asks, looking back at you. "Won a contest and inspired the next song. I swear."
“I’ll be very excited to hear that song when it comes out.” He surely doesn’t mean it, but it’s still a nice thought to have. “I’m honestly just having the best time in the world.”
"We are planning to make sure we enjoy everything." Javi beams, happy you are enjoying yourself and he hopes that you mean that. You are inspiring his next song. He's already come up with the hook in his head and actually cannot wait to jot it down.
“What kind of everything are you enjoying?” Disappointed to not have unearthed gossip, the reporter digs for more. You’re clearly smitten, even if you are just a fan.
“The show, the parties after.” Javi flashes you a grin. “Tomorrow, we will nurse our hangovers with a delicious west coast brunch.”
“You’ll never want to leave LA after this.” The man chuckles to you, and you can’t shrug or risk looking weird.
“I already don’t want to leave,” you admit with a blinding smile. This moment is supposed to be for you and yet all you want to do is make it good for Javi. He chuckles and the two of you move down to the next reporter. Smiling as he grips your hand tightly. “He wanted us to give something away so badly,” you grin guiltily.
“He did. Secret relationships are always titillating.” Javi hums, reaching up and touching his necklace again to calm himself.
“Too bad for them.” Still holding his hand, You flash him the same smile that you had the reporter to hopefully reassure him. “Everything’s going great.”
“Let me know if that changes.” He asks softly, wanting you to enjoy this entire experience. “Although they are going to be jealous of me standing beside someone as beautiful as you are.”
"When you write your song, put that in the lyrics," you tease affectionately. "It will be my favorite forever."
“I will.” Javi nods seriously. “The hook is already written. ‘No star shines as bright as your smile’” He sings softly.
"I—I thought you were just...saying that." The flash of a camera isn't as dramatic as a wasted bulb anymore, but there is now one photographer in the world with an picture of you looking at Javi with soft astonishment written all over your expressive face. "It's...it's beautiful," you murmur back, feeling your cheeks heat up so much you might become your own sun.
“You are beautiful.” Javi counters, unraveling your hand from his arm to kiss the back of it. “Inspiration struck, thanks to you.”
******
If he was enjoying himself before the awards, Javi is ecstatic afterward and you are powerless but to roll along with his excitement at the afterparty. His award for Best Global Performance will be delivered to his LA residence and the adrenaline from his win might never wear off. Happiness looks so well on him, though, and he's all but glowing when you walk into the party together.
"I can't believe I won!" He gushes for about the five thousandth time. It's incredible and he's nearly overwhelmed with how many people, famous artists, came up to congratulate him. "Can you believe that I won?"
"I absolutely can," you assure him just like every time before. He's a brilliant entertainer and it isn't the first award he's ever won, but his desire to break America means that winning a Grammy holds enormous importance for him. "You more than deserve it."
"Is that..." His eyes widen and he cranes his neck over the crowd and then ducks down and around The Weeknd to see better. "Is that Gloria Estefan?" He asks in a near reverent whisper. "Oh my god, it is." He hisses, looking back at you almost panicked. "It's Gloria Estefan!"
"You should say hello." He is very near to a kid in a candy store at this party, and while you are just sort of absorbing the glitz, glimmering chaos around the top of you, he has transformed into a fanboy. It's actually reassuring to see – the way he is acting on the outside is very much how you felt on the inside when he walked into your suite tonight.
"No!" He shakes his head and straightens up, looking back at you like you had suggested he spit in her drink. "I could not possibly. She is...she is iconic. I cannot bother her."
"Did it bother you to meet me?" The question is posed as entirely theoretical, and the hint of a smile on your lips tells him you aren't judging him in the least. "Having someone who admires you tell you that you mean something to them is wonderful, Javi. Don't be afraid."
Javi shakes his head, still too starstruck and he looks back at you, “Maybe after a drink, sí?” He asks, raising his brows at you.
"Well, let's get you a drink, then." There are waiters passing by with trays in every direction and a full bar against the far wall, so getting him whatever drink he wants will not be a problem whatsoever.
“How do you feel? Are you still having fun?” He asks, wanting to make sure that he’s not boring you or you wish you were back in your suite.
"The answer to that will always be yes," you promise him. The two of you have gotten used to walking hand in hand tonight, and now it is natural to put your hand in his as you walk to the bar. "What are we drinking to celebrate your victory?"
“Tell me your favorite drink.” He begs, turning those puppy dog eyes as you call them on you and smiles.
"Usually just wine," you admit, albeit a little sheepishly. "Sparkling or even sangria if there's a party. "But I am absolutely open to trying anything." A rule which goes for more than just cocktails, but he doesn't really need to know that.
“Should we try some of the signature cocktails?” He asks, pointing to the placard with a list of yummy sounding drinks. “Jack should be here soon.”
“Absolutely.” The only way to survive winning this contest has been to go with the flow, so you’re just going to roll with that a while longer. People are already starting to drink and dance, catching snacks from passing trays of hors d’oeuvres or from the long buffet of sumptuous offerings along the wall adjacent to the bar. Tables for chatting and resting sit ready but most people seem ready to party. At the bar, a half dozen specialty cocktails are listed with cheeky names and full descriptions. Some are fruity, some are smokey, some sound downright dangerous. It’s all a matter of taste.
"Award Winning Whiskey Sour." Javi decides, looking at the menu. "I think I will start with that." He looks over at you and waits for your decision.
“The Sweet Victory Raspberry Limoncello Cooler sounds like my speed,” you decide with a grin. An open bar with a reason to celebrate always means trying something wonderful.
"Then that's what you will have." He winks at you and darts off to grab the drinks. It doesn't matter that he is the award winner, he is going to treat you like the star since you are with him.
“Javi!” There is a crowd forming and you end up losing the fast-moving Spaniard in the thick of it, but you just laugh and hang back. You’ll stay where you are and he will find you again. In the meantime, this party is incredible and a few covert pictures won’t hurt anything.
At the bar, Javi orders the drinks, smiling at the bartender and he reaches up to touch his necklace as he looks around the crowd, searching for a Stetson.
“Lookin’ for somebody?” Jack’s voice comes from behind his left shoulder, the warm smirk of amusement evident in his honeyed tone.
"Jack!" Javi lights up again, delighted to see him and he lunges forward to hug his agent. "Can you believe I won?" He knows that Jack had kept tabs on the awards ceremony, even if he had been working while he was watching so he could attend the party.
"Of course I can believe it." He had no doubts about it, but he's glad to see Javi happy. Jack pats his star on the back and looks around before raising an eyebrow at Javi. "Where'd our girl get off to? Run away to powder her nose?"
"I left her..." Javi bites his lip and looks around the crowd before he spots you. "Just there." The bartender brings over the drinks and Javi shoves a generous bill into the man's hands. "Can we also get a glass of whiskey?" He asks, nodding towards Jack. "For my friend."
"Enjoying your night?" Jack asks him, honestly wondering if the sweet shows of companionship he saw during the broadcast were real or if Javi was learning how to charm Americans along with everyone else in the world.
"She is wonderful." Javi confides with a small grin, leaning in closely. "Just like you said she would be. I like her, rey. I really like her."
"I thought you would." That news pleases Jack, who presses a bill into the bartender's hand when he comes back with his whiskey. "She signed on the dotted line, ya know," he reminds Javi under his breath. "Could be a well-deserved way to celebrate."
"Does she know?" Javi asks under his breath, reaching up and touching his necklace again. "What that entails?"
"Not yet." Jack shakes his head and picks up his drink, holding it to his lips a moment and considering the next course of action before he drinks. "If you'd like to tell her, we can. But I'd say let's see how she dances before we go invitin' her to the rodeo."
"No." Jack's idea makes sense and Javi nods. "I want to see her dance. Plus I need to deliver her drink."
"Then lead the way, zorro," Jack murmurs quietly, a smirk gracing his lips.
Javi smiles as he moves through the crowd of people, nodding and slightly awestruck by some of the people who greet him by name. He doesn't stop, eager to get back to you with the drinks and with Jack.
You get one more discreet picture in on your phone before you see Javi reappear with a distinct Stetson-wearing mustachioed cowboy behind him, and you quickly pull up your text messages to fire one off to Esme to cover up the fact that you were being an absolute fangirl for the five minutes he was gone.
"Jack is here." Javi rushes out with a happy smile on his face as if the man's presence behind him isn't announcement enough.
Murmured thanks to Javi for delivering your drink come with a broad smile, and you are right back to beaming when you turn to Jack. "You must be very proud tonight."
"Pleased as punch, darlin'." Jack hums, sending you a small wink. "Only a few things that I can think of that would make me happier and it wouldn't be polite to speak about that in public." He winks again and takes a sip of his whiskey.
When your smile turns shy it seems to please the cowboy even further, and you take a sip of your drink with a happy hum before looking back to Javi. Not that Jack isn't damn fun to look at, but it's Javi's night. "What are you thinking, Javi? Grab something to eat? Get on the dance floor?"
"Dancing." Javi sneaks a look over at Jack before back to you. "I wish to see how you move." He smirks, taking a sip of his whiskey sour and biting his lip.
Well damn. Get a couple of drinks and an award win into Javi Gutierrez and suddenly he's all but purring at you in front of his agent. While a prouder woman might have played it off or demurred, you have reached a point in the night where not caring anymore is a virtue. There are no paparazzi inside this party. No fans to speak of other than you or a few other lucky guests. So Jack is here? Fuck it. Jack's a flirt, too. "Well, come on, then," you toss him a grin after taking a long drink of your cocktail. "I'm sure Jack won't mind guarding our drinks for a few minutes."
Jack chuckles and takes your drink from you, making sure that his fingers linger over yours and he practically coos at you. "Enjoy yourself now, darlin'." He encourages, grinning at you like he's the cat that is edging closer to the canary.
"I'll try to keep up," you tease Javi as he leads you out onto the dance floor. Considering how many of his performances you've seen on television, you know how well he can move. It really will be trying to keep up with a pro tonight.
Jack watches with interest as Javi pulls you into his arms and starts to move. It's obvious that you are infatuated with Javi and he doesn't blame you. It's a part of his charm, his ability to draw people in.
The song has a beat to move to, thank god – something hip hop and Latinx that makes for fantastic party music at the beginning of a night. There are no speeches here, no cameras to pose for, only people enjoying themselves, so that is exactly what you decide to do when you put both arms around Javi's neck. When are you ever going to get a chance like this again in your life? Never is when, so you're damn well going to enjoy every second of it for everything it's worth.
Javi laughs breathlessly as he twirls you around and dips you. Happy that your dress allows for you to move so easily. He wouldn't have been able to dance with you like this if you had worn the red dress. And it would be a shame to not get to press his body to yours like this.
"I think we picked the right dress," you laugh breathlessly, obviously having the same thought as him at this moment. This fairy tale - your fairy tale - keeps getting better and better at every turn.
"Depends on how it looks on the floor." Javi teases, pulling you closer and flashing you a grin.
"I–" The shock on your face is abundantly evident. For all the teasing, or flirtatiousness, or even the fleeting sweet moments you've shared tonight? Neither of you has been as bold as to make that kind of comment or make any intentions known. On your end it seemed utterly ridiculous to even think he would be interested, assuming his gestures to simply be those of a sweet man with good manners. But maybe it is actually more than that? "Now that is a very interesting question," you admit, lips curling up into a grin.
"Sí?" He asks, eyes widening slightly in shock as if he is surprised that the line actually worked. Jack's presence has given him confidence that he normally does not possess or represses because of his poor self esteem, but the grin on your face captivates him. "You would like to find out? With me?"
Thinking about it for a second, you end up surprising yourself and laugh a little right out loud. "You know..." you shake your head in amusement. "I was really about to say that I was only serious if you were actually interested in me for me and not in some wish fulfillment thing about fucking a fan. But honestly? I don't really care what the motivation is. I'm one hundred percent on board. We'll dance, we'll drink, we'll go back to the hotel and have a night. Why the hell not?"
If you had told him that he was the world wide star, top of the charts for all the countries, he couldn't have looked any happier about your agreement. "Yes!" He crows happily and pulls you even closer to kiss your cheek. Since you are in public, he would not cause a scene.
He is nearly crushing you to him as he revels in your agreement, and you have to admit - this whole contest, this trip, this night, all of it - it's so surreal that why shouldn't it include sleeping with an internationally known musician that you've had a crush on for literal years? That's completely tracks with the tone of the whole thing. Esme and Kate are never going to believe half of what actually happened even before this.
When the song ends, Javi pulls away and he searches your eyes. "Do you want to stay?" He asks. "Or do you want to go?"
"Jack won't be upset if we don't stay longer?" After all, you had really only been here for what feels like a few minutes. Perhaps it was as long as a whole half hour, who knows. And Jack seems like a man who prefers to do things 'right'.
"Why don't we see what he wants to do?" Javi asks, taking your hand and leading you off the dance floor. "I need my drink anyway!"
There is definitely something you're missing here, unless Javi is about to ask his agent's permission to take you back to the hotel, but since you're already decided to just roll with it you let him drag you back to the table where Jack is waiting and gratefully accept your drink from the tall, dark, and handsome Southerner when he offers it back to you.
Javi is nearly bouncing on his toes with anticipation, grinning as he takes his drink from Jack and tosses it back quickly. “I would like to go back to the house, rey.” He tells Jack before he turns to you. “Unless you would be more comfortable in your hotel room, of course.”
"It's where my stuff is," you point out needlessly. "But nobody ever died because they were embarrassed about a walk of shame."
“There’s no shame in that walk, darlin’.” Jack smirks, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Maybe a little hitch in your step dependin’ on how hard you’ve been ridden is all.”
"Traditionally is it not the lady who does the riding?" Throwing caution to the wind, you have another sip of your drink and tilt your head at Jack. "What's the song? Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy?"
“Oh you are perfect, darlin’.” He chuckles, leaning in and chucking your chin with his fingers. “How’d you like to find out?”
For a second you freeze, not sure that you've understood him correctly, and you look between the two men to find Javi looking just on the edge of nervousness and Jack smirking confidently. Well that's a surprise... But really, is it a bad one? Hell no. Cowboy Burt Reynolds is a look you didn't know you were into until a month ago when Jack Daniel's showed up at your apartment, and you're just going to throw up your hands and go with the flow. "Ya know what?" You toss back the end of your drink, enjoying the way the bubbles go straight to your head - you're making the decision with a clear head but you might be a little floaty by the time you get back to wherever you're going if you have another. "Sure. Let's go find out."
“Really?” Javi’s eyes widen happily and he reaches for your hand, “You know he is talking about…” He looks around and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Both of us, sí?”
"I understood that part," you promise him, squeezing his hand just as you have every other time that he has been nervous tonight. "And I've got no clue why you're asking, or why you're asking me, but since I'm never going to get an offer like this again?" You shrug again and end up laughing a little. "Let's go."
“You will not regret it.” He promises you, turning and beaming at Jack. “I want you to know that you have the most exquisite taste, rey.” He hums. “I feel relaxed already.”
"Okay." Setting your glass down on the table beside you and picking up your evening bag instead, you look between them curiously. "I thought your name was Jack?" You ask quietly. "Not Ray?"
Javi flushes and he ducks his head in embarrassment, reaching up and touching his necklace. Jack chuckles and decides to answer for him. He sets down his whiskey after he drains it. “Not ‘Ray’ like ‘Howdy my name’s Ray’.” He explains. “‘Rey’.” He exaggerates the punctuations slightly. “My little zorro named me his king the first night he skipped a step or ten on his own walk of shame.”
"Zorro?" As far as you know, that's just a guy in a mask with a sword running around Mexico in the movies, but clearly it means something different. Whatever it means, though, one thing seems to be growing clearer: Jack is much more than just Javi's agent.
“Fox.” Jack smirks, reaching out to run his finger down Javi’s smooth jaw with tender affection. “He’s my sexy fox, isn’t he?” He asks, looking up at you. “Or foxy?”
The absolute hard right into unbelievable that an already crazy night has taken makes your whole body feel like it's been instantly set on fire and like your system has been flooded with instant arousal all at once. Jack is his dom...that makes so much sense... "He's been very good tonight," you tell Jack, humming a little to see how Javi lights up at the praise. "He should definitely be rewarded for it."
“That’s good.” Jack coos, smirk growing wider when he sees that you understand the dynamic and are either intrigued or approving. “I bet his cock is aching for some attention, isn’t it, zorro?”
"Por favor, mi rey," Javi turns his wide eyes on Jack, the very same ones he has used on you multiple times tonight. The party is so raucous all around you that barely anyone has even noticed you, and the three of you seem to have entered your own little world anyway.
“Now that you know this…” Jack turns his dark gaze on you. “Are you still willing to go home with us? The agreement doesn’t cover me. But a good old fashioned verbal consent will do.”
"I thought it was a little weird when that page was in with the others, but...anything can happen in the world, right?" You smirk at Jack, feeling far bolder than you ever thought you could. "Now I see you were just being thorough for your man. That's very considerate, Jack. And...I think that deserves a reward, too."
Jack arches a brow and a slow smirk rides across his face. “What kind of reward are we talkin’ about, darlin’?” He asks, interested in see what you think is a reward.
Cheeks on fire, your eyes slide away for a second to compose yourself so you can look back at him. "I was really hoping you'd just be impressed that I was being cheeky and I'd have the car ride to think up something creative," you admit sheepishly. "Called my bluff."
He tosses his head back and laughs. A deep, belly laugh that rolls through his body. Javi squirms slightly, his own grin on his face and Jack finally looks back at you with pure admiration in his expression. “Good for you, darlin’.” He chortles, reaching out and pulling you close so he can whisper in your ear. “Might have to spank you for that, but only if you want me to.”
There’s no way he can know that he’s offering you something that you very much enjoy, but he’ll most likely be able to figure it out by the way you reflexively shiver a little at the suggestion. “We should get going,” you tell them most, nodding with as much authority as you can. “Sounds like our own party is going to be far more fun.”
“Oh it will be, darlin’.” Javi whimpers in agreement with Jack and he takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “You don't seem surprised.” He murmurs as Jack guides you both towards the exit.
"I decided about ten minutes ago to just throw up my hands tonight and go with the flow, so I'm just leaving all of my confusion and surprise for tomorrow when I think about what happened." You lace your fingers through Javi's and offer him a smile. "I basically have decided that all of this is just an amazing dream and so anything can happen."
"That is a good way to look at things." Jack hums, his hand sliding to your back as he leans close. "I thought I was dreaming the first time Javi begged to suck my cock, now I hope to never wake up." He teases. "Why don't we go see what kind of fevered dream we can cook up for you?"
______
Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse
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#Pedro Pascal#Pedro Pascal character fanfiction#Pedro Pascal fanfic#Javi Gutierrez#Javi Gutierrez x reader#Javi Gutierrez x you#Javi Gutierrez x female reader#Javi Gutierrez x f!reader#Javi Gutierrez x Jack Daniels#The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent#TUWOMT#Kingsman Golden Circle#crossover#Pop Star AU#birthday fic
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Danny stares at the glowing sticky note sitting innocuously on his notebook.
"Mister Fenton," Lancer says, drawing his attention up, "since you seem to be so studiously staring at your notes, perhaps you know the answer to my question."
Danny blinks.
He looks at the note once more before looking up.
"Is it 42?"
The class erupts in giggles as Lancer sighs. "That may be the answer to life but no that doesn't answer my question. Miss Sanchez, perhaps you know."
Danny tunes out to pick up the green sticky. Glowing blue ink glitters as it moves.
A single hand may lift a stone, but many can move the boulder.
Danny flips the note over, and back.
"What's that?" Tucker whispers, leaning forward on his desk to be closer to Danny.
"Bewildering, I need to visit Grandfather I guess."
"The mysterious one that you never mentioned before the C.A.T.S?" Sam asks.
"Mister Fenton," Lancer walks over. "There is no note passing in my class."
"But I wasn't-"
"Wow Fentina, don't know how you didn't expect to get caught with something that bright," Dash laughs.
"Pass it over," Lancer holds his hands out.
Huffing a sigh, Danny passes it to Lancer.
Or tries to.
The note passes through Lancer's hand.
Lancer blinks.
Danny blinks.
Lancer grabs the note again, fingers passing through.
"Wuthering Heights!" Lancer frowns, trying once more. "I'm losing my touch."
Danny flips the note and wiggles it. The sticky note does not make a noise. It does glow brighter however.
Lancer grabs Danny's wrists to move the note around to see it better.
"...Mister Fenton," he stares at the glittery ink, leaning closer.
"...yes Mr. Lancer?"
"This doesn't look like it's English."
"That's 'cause it's not."
"How the fuck-"
"Language!"
"Does Fentoenail know more languages?" Dash asks.
"I bet it's some made up chicken scratch from one of his nerdy books," Paulina comments.
"This looks like cuneiform," Lancer says.
"Common mistake, it's actually Akkadian," Danny corrects before slapping a hand over his mouth.
"Isn't that that dead city you were complaining about at lunch?" Tucker asks.
"...no?"
"Convincing," Lancer deadpans. "Will you care to read for the class what your little note says?"
Danny opens his mouth and then closes it.
The note shimmers in his hand.
"Would you believe me if I said what note?"
"Now Mister Fenton, we can all clearly see…"
Danny opens his hand as the note fades into nothing.
"I don't have a note." Danny gives his best innocent smile.
Lancer and half the class gapes at him.
The bell rings.
Nobody moves.
Danny wiggles his fingers a bit, "Can you let go please?"
"Oh, yes, certainly," Lancer mumbles, stepping away.
Danny pulls his hand to his chest, grabbing his stuff with his other hand. "So uh, bye?"
Lancer makes no move to stop him as he leaves, Sam and Tucker hot on his heels.
"How did you do that?" Tucker asks, catching his elbow and spinning him to a stop.
"I didn't do anything," Danny puts a hand up in surrender, "It was written on ghost paper so it dissolved on its own."
"I know your parents are wack but ghost paper, really?" Sam arches an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You said it was from your grandfather."
"Yeah, it is-was, look can we just not do this now?" Danny glances over Sam's shoulder at Dash looking over the crowd.
Tucker follows his line of sight and starts moving again, hand still on Danny's elbow.
"Yep, we're moving," he says. "So about the ghost paper-"
"I dunno, they just use it to leave notes on my stuff," Danny says as they duck down a hallway.
"So it's not one of your parents' weird inventions?" Sam asks.
"No," snort, "Definitely not. If it's not a weapon, they don't want anything to do with it."
"Think he'd be willing to share some with us?" Sam's eyes are bright with an idea.
Danny looks over his shoulder to her and them ahead to where Tucker is leading them through the halls.
"You know, I think he might." He smiles back, "Are you guys free tonight?"
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Omg would you do a Xander version of your Grayson childhood friends to lovers!? Your writing is so good!!!
xander hawthorne childhood friends to lovers
i literally love xander so much my absolute fav, thankyou sm for the requesttt
this one is super dialogue heavy sorry about that 😭 will post a pt 2 of the after math, when ur actually together!!
wc: 3.6k
you two both went to the same school, you weren’t ever in the same class apart from 4th grade.
one time he was flying a paper airplane that exploded glitter (a very xander-like invention) around the class.
you were both following it with your eyes, and it ended up hitting you and landing at your feet. your arms, your school uniform, your legs, and your shoes were covered in glitter.
his head shot up, and he made eye contact with you, you both immediately started laughing.
“i’m really sorry,” he says in between laughs.
“it’s fine” you say with a small smile. “it’s no big deal.”
“well, i think you look very nice all glittery ” he says, sounding as honest as a 9 year old could get.
“thanks i think..” you say, unsure of what his words even meant. you ended up laughing anyway.
you never really talked much after that, but one year there was a robotics club in the 8th grade. you and xander were the only ones who attended.
naturally, with xanders outgoing personality, you two quickly broke the ice and were having great conversation.
“you know, i was trying to figure out how you looked so familiar, and i realised…” xander pauses for dramatic effect “you were the glitter girl of 4th grade!"
“the glitter girl?” you counter, with an eyebrow raised.
“yes!” he beamed, standing up from his seat next to you on the desk and demonstrating.
“little 9 year old me was standing here, flying my paper-glitter-gadget, and you were standing right about” he says, taking a few steps forward. “here!”
you watch in silence with a smile threatening to tug at your lips, “coming back to you yet?” he says, looking at you with a classic xander smile—a contagious, expressive, all-consuming smile that makes anyone witnessing it feel like he practically invented the action.
“no..” you say as you rest your hand on your head “but keep going." you gesture your hands in a forward motion.
“alright, my fantastic-glitter-bomb-paper-gadget was flying up in the air, like this,” he says as he moves his hand in the air doing unnecessary but very xander-like spins and sound effects.
“wasn’t it called your flying glitter-paper-gadget?” “paper-glitter” he corrected as he stands up straight with one arm to his side and one pointing at you. “and yes, but i came up with a better name for it.”
“i don’t know if that’s better,” you mutter under your breath with a small laugh, looking down at your lap.
“what did you say?” he questions you playfully.
“nothing” you respond far too quickly for your liking.
“no no, what was that? don’t shy away now” he repeats as he takes a step forward towards you and crouches down next to you.
“nothing!” you emphasize your answer, shaking your head at him with a small smile.
“you said something, go on,” he says with a smile as he tilts his head “i’m all ears, and eyes, and hands- i have all my 5 senses in tact. but that’s not the point, please, continue.” he rambles on.
you giggle; his way of speaking is unlike anyone you’ve known before, but you love it. you feel as if his brain is on a different wave length that everyone else needs to catch up on.
“i said that i don’t know if your new name is better, that’s all." you say, looking down at him slightly due to his crouched position.
“hm, paper-glitter-gadget it is then,” he says as he stands up and continues his demonstration.
“wait…” you say to yourself as he’s about to continue, “i think i do remember you!” you voice gradually gets louder.
“oh?” he asks as he turns around and pauses his demonstration, putting his hands down and walking towards you.
“youre the guy who exploded purple glitter all over me!” you exclaim with a finger pointing at him while you laugh.
“i was just getting to that part, actually, but yes!” he replies with a finger pointed at you and a small chuckle.
“i had glitter on me for months! im pretty sure i have glitter embedded in my dna now.”
“yeah well, what can i say, it’s like if i were elsa but a boy, and instead of ice powers.. i had glitter powers,” he says looking at you with a crooked smile.
“that’s not… you could’ve just said you had glitter powers” you say with a light chuckle
“where’s the fun in that?”
the rest of the afternoon went great, with xander’s witty and charming personality, and his unwavering ability to make you laugh.
every time you finished talking to him, you felt the immediate need to go back, just one more word, one more exchange. he had that effect on you.
he loved talking to someone who wasn’t the stereotypical rich, superficial, hobbiless person in heights country day. not to mention he found you extremely funny, and the way you responded to his banter made him want to speak to you for as long as he possibly could, which with his ability to talk, is forever.
you two would have sleepovers all the time
xander talks through movies all the time.
“i predict that that girl is actually the murderer; she’s much too quiet for my liking”
“xander, i love you, but please stop talking,” you say through a laugh as you turn your head toward him,
“shutting up now." surprisingly, he does actually shut up—not because you told him to, but because you said, “i love you.”
he sits through the rest of the movie in silence, contemplating your words and running them over in his mind.
friendly? non friendly? spur of the moment? what even was that?
you on the other hand, were silently freaking out because you couldn’t believe you just said that.
“xander is smart enough to think it’s friendly, right?” you thought to yourself
at the end of the movie, when the murderer was revealed, you tap him and point to the tv “look, you were right, she was the murderer after all,” you say quietly,
xander is not one to be caught off guard, but right now he was.
“what?” he murmurs as he looks at you, then at the tv, and back to you once he’s processed your words “oh,” he chuckles slightly “well, im just always right like that aren’t i?”
you laugh in response and shake your head, leaning back into your seat. “you’re crazy” you say, and he’s there sitting, silently hoping that “i love you” wasn’t so friendly.
the first day back in 11th grade, you, thea, rebecca, and xander all sat at a table together
thea said something along the lines of a compliment, and you smiled at her and said thanked her, returning a compliment back to her.
xander had an unreadable expression on his face, and thea turned his attention to him.
“relax, i’m not stealing your girlfriend.”
“um, we aren’t..” “we aren’t together” you both say at the same time
thea snorts, but somehow it sounds like the most elegant thing coming from her.
“are you sure? i mean, by the way you look at each other, i would’ve thought you two were married with kids,” she says as he rests her hand on her chin and moves forward.
by this point, you’re sure your face is as red as your school tie right now, you look over to xander who’s simply smiling uncomfortable and says “thankyou thea, for your input, and your ability to make any situation ever awkward.”
“of course,” she says with a sweet smile, and she leans back and looks over at rebecca, who looks like she’s trying to hold in a laugh but still gives warning eyes to thea.
xander looks over at you, notices your flushed face, and mentally makes note of it.
ever since then, he’s always been “flirty” with you, and it drives you to the brink of insanity.
he does it partly because he finds it amusing and partly because he’s genuinely speaking his mind when he compliments you.
one time, you were late to school because you overestimated your time to get ready after you washed your hair.
you didn’t have time to straighten it or curl it how you usually would, so you decided to leave it as it was and call it a day.
your first period that day was a free one that you’d spend with xander.
you arrived at your designated spot, and he was already there, seemingly waiting for you with untouched scones on the table.
“hey, sorry i’m late” you say as you sit down next to him in the booth.
“it’s fine, i was just sitting here, looking at the scones, thinking how lucky i am to exist in a universe where these exist. can you imagine if-” he says as he tears his attention away from the scones and looks at you.
his eyebrows shoot up in amusement, and you pause the unpacking of your bag to look at him “what?”
“nothing” he replies, shaking his head with a smile.
“actually,” he suddenly starts speaking in a lower register and leans forward. “did you do something different to your hair?” he begins to twist some around his finger.
“um,” you say slightly nervously due to his closeness to you. you have been friends for years and he still had this effect on you.
“i didn’t have time to style it today, i just left it natural” you continue.
“hm, it looks good, i like it” he says before leaning back and retreating his hand. “you should do it like that more often” he suggests pointing a finger at your hair.
a beat of silence passes before he continues
“anyway!” he says back in his louder, usual xander voice. “i was sitting here, and i thought- can you imagine if scones didn’t exist? it’s like, imagining if oxygen didn’t exist. i don’t think i’d even be alive honestly, i don’t want to think about what the world would be without them”
midway through his rambling, he looks over at you and notices you avoiding eye contact, your facial expressions and your reddened cheeks, telling him everything he needs to know. (your eyes were saying “what the fuck just happened?”)
he’s always trying to get you as flustered as possible, not in a mean fuckboy way but because he genuinely likes you and thinks you’re adorable
one time you two were shopping for snacks as your movie night was that day, and an old lady came up to you guys and said you two looked so adorable, and that you two reminded her of her and her husband back in the day.
you wanted to cry on the spot, give her the biggest hug ever, and also disappear because you and xander were not together. yet
xander just played into it, wrapping his arms around your shoulder, and you instinctively leaned your head on his shoulder. “that’s the sweetest thing i’ve heard today, thank you,” he says in a real, genuine voice. no hint of playfulness.
as you looked at him and he looked down at you with the faintest of smiles, the world suddenly went silent and you came to a realization. you realized, you were totally head over heels for him. you jumped in head first, you were so far gone to the point of no return.
“yeah, we are lucky to have each other” you almost whisper, still looking at xander, then tearing your eyes away from him and looking back at the lady.
she snorts, “consider him to be the lucky one, young lady. although i won’t lie, he is quite handsome.”
you all start laughing, and the lady walks away, sending you her farewells.
“that lady was so sweet,” you say as you’re both standing at the self-checkout stands.
“i think the one thing we can take away from that conversation is that im ‘quite handsome’” he replies as he pays for your snacks and carries the bags, looking at you with a wide grin on his face.
“okay xander” you say as you roll your eyes playfully.
“so you don’t disagree?” you two are walking out of the store now, he looks down at you and raises an eyebrow.
“i think you’re forgetting she said you’re the lucky one,” you counter sarcastically as he opens the car door for you and you get in.
he shakes his head while smiling and looks at you, leaning his arms on the top of the car.
“i actually wish i could forget something,” he tilts his head and looks away from you as if he’s made a new discovery. “too many things are happening in my mind. i never get a minute of silence up there!” he closes your door, and gets in the drivers seat.
around halfway through the drive back to your house, it started to rain.
“shit, it’s raining.”
“language” he warns, drawing out the end of the word, he squints his eyes and looks closer out the window and to his surprise, it is raining
“oh shit, it is raining!” he says through a surprised chuckle as he turns to look at you briefly, and then back to the road.
“hey, what about your language?”
he continues to rant on about the rain, and you look at him with a smile laughing here and there - but your mind is elsewhere. you are deathly afraid of thunderstorms, and you're afraid your night with xander is going to be ruined.
by now, the rain has rapidly increased in severity, and there's no doubt that there’s going to be thunder and lightning soon enough.
“this is gonna be so fun, we can do all sorts of things! i vote we should watch the scariest movies to ever walk this earth- actually, they don’t walk, they just exist. i vote we should watch the scariest movies to exist!” he says, smiling as he turns his head to look at you, one hand on the wheel and one resting on his own lap. his smile suddenly drops as he notices your unusual silence
“you’re awfully quiet; what’s wrong?”
you look out the window and then down at your lap, fiddling with your hands
“i don’t know, i just don’t really like the rain, heavy rain. it scares me. it’s stupid, just forget it." you wave a hand through the air and look back out the window
he reaches his hand over to yours and settles on your thigh, then switches his focus back and forthfrom you and the road, ultimately settling on you when he stops at a red light. “it’s not stupid. we can watch that one movie you love to make you forget about the rain? yeah? 10 things i like about you?” he says giving you an encouraging smile.
you try to bite back your own smile “okay… fine” you say looking at him, “and it’s 10 things i hate about you.” you say, raising your eyebrows
“you have things you hate about me? let alone 10 of them? i’m offended” he says, putting a hand to his chest in fake agony.
“eh, you’ll survive”
“honestly, i’m not so sure i will,” he says as he puts his hand back on the wheel when the light turns green, his other hand still staying next to yours on your thigh.
when you finally reach your house, you are both running out of the car in the rain to your front door.
when you finally reach it, you’re both panting and out of breath.
“oh my god,” you mutter under your breath.
“somebody open the door” you groan while repeatedly ringing the doorbell and knocking, but it seems to be overpowered by the rain.
xander chuckles at your frustrated antics “don’t you have a key?”
“oh, right,” you say defeatedly as your arms fall back to your sides, and then you dig in your pockets to find them.
your hands fiddle with them as they are wet, and you can’t seem to hold it properly.
you look up at xander, your face asking him for help. “help please?” you ask as you raise your hand with the keys towards his
“anything for you,” he says half jokingly (100% true) as he takes the keys from your hands and unlocks the door.
you’re about to walk in but you notice xanders intense gaze and the fact that he’s simply standing there, unmoving.
you turn to look at him, and hes unsurprisingly already looking at you.
he takes a step forward and moves some of your wet hair out of your face.
“xander, what are you doing? we should get inside.”
he saw no point in beating around the bush. “i love you.”
“what?” you barely whisper, your face showing your shock.
“i love you, and im tired of pretending that i can just be friends with you. i can’t. it’s killing me every day,” he takes a deep breath in “from the day in 4th grade, to the robotics club, to hanging out with you everyday, i love you. everything about you, the way you feel for everyone, the way you smile, the way you say my name, the way you- the way you are. just you.” a small smile starts to spread across your face, unable to hide your emotions. “and every day im with you, i fall inlove with something new about you. like today, it’s the fact that you don’t like the rain, i don’t know why i love it, well i do- because it’s you. and that’s what runs through my mind 24/7. you” he finishes his long winded confession out of breath, sounding as genuine as ever.
you stay staring at him for a few moments with pure love and adoration in your eyes.
“now’s usually the part where you speak,” xander says as he gestures his hand for you to speak, still breathless. and for the first time in your 4ish years of being friends with him, you notice a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
“i-“ you were genuinely too stunned to speak “fuck it” you mutter, as you lean in to kiss him.
your arms wrap around his neck, his around your waist, and you’re on your tiptoes. he notices and cranes his neck towards you, crouching down so you can stand normally.
his hands move towards your face and neck, and you shiver and pull away.
“what?” he asks looking like a deer in headlights
“you’re hands are freezing” you say through a giggle,
“oh,” he says, and he starts to laugh. “we should probably get inside,” he continues.
“we probably should.”
“yeah, any second now”
“yep” you look into his eyes and notice a new sparkle in them.
neither of you move, just staring into each other's eyes until you hear a loud bang, your head whips in its direction, and you see lightning.
“okay, that’s our sign to actually get inside” you dryly chuckle as you grab xander’s hand and he follows you inside.
you spent the rest of your movie night cuddled up together, watching cheesy rom-coms on your couch.
you end up falling asleep halfway through the second movie.
he’s rambling on, and he suddenly cuts himself off, noticing your silence, and looks down at you.
when he notices you’re sleeping, he smiles to himself, switches off the tv, and carries you in bridal style to your bed.
halfway through the walk to your bed your eyes start to flutter open and you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows as you take in your surroundings. “xan? what happened to the movie?”
“you fell asleep,” he states matter-of-factly “it’s okay; we can continue another time” he says softly, not wanting to disturb your peace.
he places you on your bed and pulls the cover over you. he kisses your forehead and then stands to look at you for a moment, then begins to walk away.
you open your eyes slightly and prop yourself up on your elbows, then you see his retreating figure “where are you going?”
“oh, well you’re going to sleep, i figured you’d want your peace” he responds.
doesn’t he realize he’s your peace?
you shake your head “no, i want you." his eyebrows shoot up in amusement, and you mentally curse yourself for what you just said
“i mean, can you stay with me?”
you had the best sleep of your life that night cuddled with him. he held you like if he held you any looser you'd dissapear out of his arms.
and he stayed true to his word; you did finish the movie the next day.
a few days later, you were thinking about the confession he made, and you realized you never said anything back.
you decided to write a letter explaining your feelings - and all that you feel for him.
the letter ended up being two pages long.
you came to his house, gave it to him, and watched him read it with hopeful eyes.
he wanted to cry, laugh, and kiss you all at the same time.
he ultimately ended up settling on the last one.
you’re now laying on his bed, a vinyl playing frank oceans “blonde” in the background which you’ve both decided on as your album.
“does this mean we’re officially together now?” you ask, raising your head from his chest to look at him in the eye.
“we’ve been officially together since that day in 4th grade, you just didn’t know it yet”he says looking down at you with a sarcastic smile, which you laugh at and hit his chest playfully. “i love you” you say,
“i love you too.”
that letter you gave him is one of his prized possessions- his most prized possesion.
it’s pinned to his wall next to trophies and famous physicians and inventors he loves, and a picture of scones, which is a major sign that he’s a goner for you.
jameson teased him about it the first time he saw it.
jameson also had a black eye the next day!
everyone you know is so happy that you two are officially together, but not happier than you two.
thankyou so much for this requesttt, this was a super long one 😭😭 we all need a xander in our lives
#xander hawthorne x reader#xander hawthorne#grayson hawthorne#jameson hawthorne#the brothers hawthorne#the final gambit#the grandest game#the hawthorne legacy#the inheritance games#nash hawthorne
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❤ ENEMIES TO LOVERS W/ MIRIO TOGATA FT. SHORT READER ❤
Repost of the fic because my dumb ass DELETED IT :((
WARNINGS: swearing, slight suggestibe themes. bickering and general bullfuckery with my scrungly <3
You absolutely despised how positive this man was, why is he so loud all the time? why does he tell lame jokes? how is he always so smiley? isn’t it tiring?
You scoffed whenever he entered the room, you rolled your eyes when he addressed you and did all sorts of rude things just to get a rise out of him.
Of course he noticed all the stank faces you threw at him for just breathing in your general direction. And quite frankly he’s had enough.
That’s perfectly fine, two can play that game.
“Ey Mirio, you got the notes to the class? Your fucking lamp post of a body was blocking my view from the board.”
“Bold of you to assume I was even taking notes, Lord Farquad.”
After that its CONSTANT BICKERINGGGG. The both of you keep trying to find some way or the other to get on the others nerves.
Very entertaining to see you two fight, “Better than Love Island” quotes Tamaki.
“You have the personality equivalent to a wet sock covered in glitter”
“Real.”
“Talking with you feels like putting on an itchy sweater that’s six sizes too small.”
“Fells like I’m pouring straight bleach into my eyes when I look at you.”
“FUCK YOU, GO TO HELL”
“Noted. Savin’ u a seat, you want the kiddie size or are you big enough to sit in the regular ones?”
Does the stupidest things to get your attention, takes out all your pen cartridges, blunts your sharpener, flicks erasers at you, messes with ur binder notes mixing subjects, sending u pictures of minion tic tacts saying “Look its you <3”, vandalizing your textbooks ect ect.
Unrelated but he’s got u saved as “Fucky Faced Chihuahua” cause he heard you got him saved as “Sentient Shitstain”
He’ll shove his hand to cover your entire face to silence you.
“Ah pupupupuh shut.”
Favourite past time is commenting on your height and watching you get all huffy and red about it. Constantly using your head as an arm rest, putting your favourite mug on the top shelf and hiding the stool you use loves seeing you jump to get it and snatching stuff from your desk which you left unattended dangling it over your head. He is fully entertained when you bark at him.
He’s normally un-phased at your snarky comments and playfully goes along but one rare occasions he’ll let you have it.
“God help you if you interrupt me one more time for I am going to pour cement into your ears”
“YOU LYING, CHEATING, DUSTY LITTLE FUCK TRUMPET-”
“Your smooth brain cant even recall what a participant phrase is, let alone you being able to comprehend the concept itself.”
Zero chill during sparring session. none at all.
Oh you think you’re besting him bc you manages to land a singular punch on him? bet, he’ll body slam you further asserting how small you are compared to the absolute giant he is.
Somewhere along the lines the bickering and taunting turns into passive aggressive flirting and its just glorious.
“I am going to smother you with a pillow shut the fuck up”
“BET, who’s dorm?”
“That is the ugliest fucking shirt i have ever seen you wear.”
“take it off then if you have a problem with it??”
“…”
“...wAIT-”
#mirio togata#mirio#mirio togata x reader#mirio x reader#mirio togara x y/n#mirio x you#mirio togata x you#mirio x y/n#mha mirio togata#mha fanfiction#mirio togata headcanons#mirio headcanons#mirio togata fanfiction#mha x reader#bhna x reader
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Request: So, I was thinking about Elle Woods (random, I know lol), BUT what if Y/n was similar to Elle Woods (also BUBBLES FROM POWERPUFF GIRLS) in that she’s REALLY girly, like pink/glitter ALL OVER, very bubbly, but instead of her being a lawyer with pink all over, she’s an assassin with pink all over?? And I’m talking EVERY PINK lol- Clothes, accessories, weapons, etc…. Similarly to how Elle isn’t taken seriously as a lawyer (at first) because of her demeanor and how she dresses, Y/n isn’t taken seriously (at first) as an assassin because of how she acts and dresses? BUT like Elle, Y/n is REALLY good at her job… Anyways, somehow meeting Tan and they fall in love??? Lemon being (slightly) amused at Y/n and Tan’s banter? But also Tan being really soft for her?? By @kpopgirlbtssvt
SORRY I TRIED TO COMMENT ANS SAY I WOILD DO IT BUT IM SHADOWBANNED SO I CANT ): I MISSED YOU THO AND I MISS WRITING FOR TAN SO… :3 hope it’s good love!
Lipstick
“You sure you’re an assassin?” A man said, you huffed and crossed your arms, you were currently sitting on top of the man, knife in hand.
“Look, sir, I’m trying to kill you right now and if you keep questioning me I can’t really do my job.” You said, then stabbed him in the neck before he could say anything else.
“Fucking prick.” You mumbled, putting the pink knife in the sink not too far away. You wiped your bloody hands, and then you looked down at your clothes.
“Aww man! That was my favorite shirt.” You pouted, and tried to swipe as much blood as you could off of it.
You sighed and took a picture of the body, sending it to your boss who would then send it over to the person who hired you.
You cleaned up the knife, and quickly went on your way as if nothing had happened.
You texted your boss “Is that the only mission you got for me today? (:”
“I mean, I have another one if you want to..”
“How much is it?”
“A lot. This guys offering 500k, but you’d have to be partnered up.”
“… with who?”
“The twins.”
———————————————————————
That’s how you were now with the twins, standing outside the building full of people.
“Why can’t we jus.. I dunno, go in?” You turned to them both, you all currently on the roof.
“What the fuck do you mean?” Tangerine asked.
“Watch.” You said, dropping down from the roof and going up to some guards. Tangerine and lemon mentally groaned in annoyance.
“Heyyy..”
“Who are you?” One asked.
“I think she’s the bosses sons girlfriend.” Another one said, you nodded.
“Yeah. Peter!” You made up a random name. You said it cheery and with a smile.
“Yeah, alright.” The one at the door mumbled, opening it up. You looked back at the twins and winked.
“They’re fucking daft.” Lemon said.
“Right? There’s no way-“
You opened the door in the back, and motioned for them to come.
They both furrowed their eyebrows and came in anyways.
Sneakily crouching around, you all found the room that the man was in.
But there was a guard outside, so you grabbed the knife on your hip and came up behind the man. You jumped on him and covered his mouth and nose, then repeatedly stabbing him in the neck while doing so.
The man fell, and you yelped when you almost fell too, but they had both caught the body before it hit the ground. You slowly and carefully dropped down, tangerine helping you while doing so.
“Aww, that’s so sweet.” You whispered to him, kissing his hand. “What a gentleman.”
“Shut it.” He whispered back.
You smirked and opened the door slowly, the man was sleeping on his desk.
“So we jus’ gotta bring him in?” You whispered.
Tangerine and Lemon knew the drill, and Lemon handed him the body bag.
“I’m not used to this at all.” You shook your head. You were more used to actual jobs were you killed, not kidnapping ones.
The man started to scream when you punched him in the face, knocking him out quickly. The both of them quickly put him in the bag, and dragged him into the back again.
“Why the fuck do you have a pink car again?” Tangerine asked, quickly throwing the car door open as some guards came your way.
“Cause it’s pretty.” You shrugged, and you went into the back, grabbing a gun, and shooting the guards on by one, hiding behind your door when they shot at you.
“Drive, drive drive!” You shouted, quickly getting into the car, and ducking down, tangerine sped off and Lemon had thrown the body in the back with you.
You laughed and then you realized something.
“Damnit, now my cars all ruined.” You pouted, and shook your head to yourself.
“What the fuck was that? You coulda’ gotten all of us killed!” Tangerine shouted angrily, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.
“Oh relax, I know what I’m doing.” You said, putting your feet onto the other seats, tangerine tan a hand through his hair and Lemon just staring ahead in disbelief.
——————————————————————-
That’s how it all started. It’s now been two years of you, Lemon and Tangerine working together now, you all simply fit, and had the best performance.
“Get your dirty hands off her.” Tangerine had practically growled, the person you guys were fighting currently on top of you, pretty much wrestling you.
He ran straight into him, knocking him onto the ground and some glass. You furrowed your eyebrows and held your hand to your cheek, which the man had punched hardly.
You sat up and watched them fight now, holding your elbow that had glass in it. You looked up at Lemon and scooted over to him. He just looked down at you and then back to tangerine. He punched the man in the face repeatedly, then pulled out his gun and shot him, his brains going splattering all on the cold tile floor.
“Oh. That’s.. lovely…?” You mumbled, and looked at Tangerine.
He looked at you and then Lemon, you both stared at him in shock slightly. He stood up, and buttoned his shirt back up, fixing his hair and looking at you both.
“What?”
“Nothing, mate, nothing.” Lemon shook his head.
“That was hot.” You blurted out, both of them looked at you now.
Tangerine rolled his eyes as he dragged the body, hiding it behind the counter and taking a picture of it. He came up to you.
“You alright?” He asked.
“Just some glass in my elbow.. and pretty sure I got a bruise on my cheek but.. I’m fine.”
He nodded and went past you, You stared at him, admiring his face.
“Quit staring.” He said when he passed you. He would be lying if he said he didn’t secretly like it.
“Can’t help myself.” You shrugged, and walked next to him. Lemon snickered at you both.
“What?” He looked to lemon.
“You two are adorable, honestly.” Lemon said, putting his hands up in defense when tangerine gave him a look.
That made his ego bigger than it needed to be, he looked at you when you weren’t paying attention again and Lemon hit his shoulder and nodded to you as if saying “go for it, man.”
Lemon walked away from you both, and entered the drivers seat.
He looked at you and you looked back, smiling at him.
“Staring problem, Tan?” You teased.
“Was jus’ wondering if you wanted to go out on Saturday.” He said, messing with one of the rings on his fingers.
“Is Tangerine asking me out on a date?” You gasped and smiled.
“No one said it was a-“
“So it’s not a date?”
“I mean… yeah it is actually.” He said.
You smiled at him again, kissing his cheek. The pink lipstick staining his cheek, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I’d love to.”
He looked at you again, his usually cold and hard glare turned into a soft and loving one every time he looked at you. You just didn’t notice it until now.
———————————————————-
He took you inside, Lemon waiting in your living room for him.
He sat you down on the closed toilet seat, and he reached for your arm, which you let him grab. He was on his knees as he examined it, noticing small pieces of glass scattered in your arm and elbow.
He grabbed tweezers, cleaning them with rubbing alcohol first, and then he slowly started to removed the pieces.
You winced in pain. He held your arm with his other hand, trying to get you to stay still.
“Jus’ a few more, yeah?” He said, you nodded with your eyes screwed shut.
After a while, he finally got all the pieces out. The pain was horrible, but felt somewhat better now.
He looked up at you, still on his knees.
“You alright?”
“I’m fine, shit, just hurts.” You mumbled.
“Sorry, I shoulda been there earlier.”
“It’s not your fault, tan.” You said, and he was now standing in front of you, he helped you stand up.
“Thank you.” You said.
“Of course.” He looked at you, glancing at your soft lips for a moment.
You noticed, and decided to take action. You leaned to him, and kissed him. He grabbed your hips, pulling you closer, your chests touching now.
Your hands were in his hair, and he shut the bathroom door quickly with his foot, he went to the floor, and you straddled him now, giggling quietly when you looked at his now pink face.
“What?” He asked.
“My lipsticks all on you.”
He blushed at the realization, he hadn’t even realized until now.
He shrugged. “Whatever.” He kissed you again, feverishly, cupping your cheeks.
This man would be the death of you.
#tangerine bullet train#bullet train#tangerine x reader#bullet train x reader#aaron taylor johnson#aaron taylor johnson x reader
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Misty Memories Cold
When you wake in Fíli’s bed with no recollection of anything after a disaster in Mirkwood, he’s ready to risk anything, even his uncle’s wrath, to bring back what you had together.
The gown fits like a glove, hugging your figure up top and flaring out into a long skirt past your waist. Long, dark blue sleeves hang loosely from your arms, the velvet fluttering with every movement.
“It looks good on you,” Fíli remarks as he does your hair. His fingers dance past your fresh stitches and he lays the elegant braid down to hide them. His bead glitters at the end of your marriage braid. “There. That should keep them out of sight.”
Meanwhile, you awkwardly fumble with the corset laces on your back. Too tight, squeezing your sides painfully, but then too loose, your chest threatening to spill out. “Can’t I just wear my own bra?!” you snap in frustration.
Fíli’s hands cover yours. “Breathe in, not too deep.” You do, and he tightens the laces and tucks them beneath a silver ribbon around your waist, tying it into a neat bow. He moves next to your shoulders, kneading at them in an attempt to relieve your tension. His thumb rubs over your necklace, an intricate, twisting chain Fíli explained was a gift from Thorin.
“One last thing,” he says quietly, leaving you in front of the mirror as he fetches something from the wardrobe. He returns with a silver circlet and places it gently on your brow. The delicate web wraps around your head, a star-shaped sapphire mounted in the center. It matches his own crown, nestled in his thick hair.
“You look beautiful,” Fíli murmurs with a tender smile, resting his chin on your head. Half-closed eyes sweep up and down your reflection, and his smile brings out the dimples hidden beneath his beard. Pure adoration. “I’m the luckiest dwarf in the world.”
Your eyes drop to your feet. Dwarves are not particularly fond of heels, so instead you wear sensible yet elegant flats. “Do I have to go?” you whisper. The idea of being on display for a kingdom you don’t know makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.
Fíli’s smile falters. “It is expected. You are my wife, you are Erebor’s princess—the people love you.”
“Can’t you just say I’m sick or something?”
“There will only be more questions, and I am not a good liar,” he points out. “You cannot hide in here forever.” His voice is gentle, but tinged with a warning.
Wary of what awaits you on the other side of the doors, you haven’t left the royal suite at all—not even for meals. Fíli or Dís would bring you a plate, and Kíli would slip you extra desserts with a wink. Every time someone remarked that they hadn’t seen you in a few days, the others would merely agree, comment on how dedicated you are to your duties as princess, and steer the conversation in a different direction. You duck your head in shame and turn away.
“Y/N, please…” Fíli follows you over to his desk in the corner of the room.
Pushing aside parchment and empty inkwells, you brace yourself against the desk. You lean forward and let your head drop with a sigh.
Arms wrap around your waist. Fíli leans down to whisper in your ear. “Please, Y/N,” he repeats. “I want you there with me.” His warm breath fans over your neck and you suppress a shiver. It takes everything in you not to stiffen as his chest rests against your back.
You’re slowly getting accustomed to Fíli’s… touchiness. His need to feel your body, if only to reassure him that you are real. At least he’s warm compared to the chill that lingers in the halls.
You let out a shuddering sigh. “Okay.”
Your breath catches in your chest as you, Fíli, and Kíli approach the enormous, stone doors. They are open already, revealing hundreds of dwarves milling around inside. Your pulse quickens. This is what you had feared, what kept you hiding for over a week. The kingdom all watching you while you try to pretend nothing is wrong.
The long tables have been moved to the side to create a more spacious area for dancing. You spot Bofur straddling a large barrel near the doors while Dori gives him directions. He brightens up and raises a hand in greeting as you enter the hall.
“Hi Bofur.” You squint up at him. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to get this cursed thing open,” Bofur puffs. He pauses and looks down at you. “Something wrong? You look a bit pale.”
You give Bofur a strained smile. “Just… just a bit of a stomachache, that’s all.”
He raises an eyebrow, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Stomachache, eh? I don’t suppose there’s anything else going on in there?”
You stare at him blankly. Then it hits you. “Oh! No, absolutely not!”
Bofur seems taken aback at your reaction, but Dori gives you a friendly nudge. “No need to be upset, lass. These things can take some time. Just keep at it, eh?”
“What was that about?” you hiss under your breath to Fíli as the dwarves’ attention returns to the barrel of ale.
Fili links your arms as you approach the high table. “It’s, ah, a bit of an open secret that we are—or were—trying for a baby. Thanks to a certain younger brother.” He gives Kíli a pointed look over his shoulder.
Kíli feigns innocence, but he can’t hide his mischievous smirk. “What? All I did was warn them in case you started making too much noise!”
“You have no shame,” Fíli snorts. He glances back to you. “I did tell you they’d ask questions if you claimed you felt ill.”
Thorin and Dís give you guarded looks as Fíli pulls out your chair. You try to smile, but it comes off more as a tight-lipped grimace.
“Relax, natha,” Dís whispers. “Just breathe and smile. The rest will come naturally.”
Naturally. Sure.
To avoid thinking about… anything, really, you look out over the gathering. You raise an eyebrow when you spy a small group of noticeably taller guests. There’s a familiar redhead among them. Kíli, bless his heart, is trying his best not to stare. If Thorin’s scowl is anything to go by, he’s not doing a very good job.
“Hell of a birthday party,” you mutter to Fíli. “Elves? Thorin really let Dís invite elves?”
“She talked him into it,” he says with a shrug. “Said it’s good for diplomacy, a show of good-will. They were supposed to be here for trade negotiations anyway.”
“Including her?”
“That was most likely Amad’s doing as well. She doesn’t have quite the vendetta against elves that Thorin does.” His voice drops into an even lower whisper. “She likes her, thinks she’d be good for Kíli. Keep him grounded, perhaps. All she has to do is convince Thorin.”
“She’s got her work cut out for her there,” you snort.
Fíli hums in agreement, but he too scans the crowd. “Glóin’s missing,” he comments. “Shame, I would have liked to see Gimli. It’s been quite a while.”
“Did Glóin not stay in Erebor?” It’s hard for you to fathom, the idea of breaking the Company, of anyone being absent.
“An agonizing decision. He didn’t want to relocate his entire family.” Fíli pauses and chuckles. “Gimli practically begged to come on the quest—we took bets on whether or not he’d follow–”
But his words are drowned out by music starting from the band in the far corner of the room. Excited couples move to the center of the hall.
Dís reaches across the table to shake Fíli’s arm. “It is your celebration,” she murmurs. “Go have fun.”
“I believe that is your cue, Y/N,” Kíli adds with a wink.
Fíli kicks his brother underneath the table, but stands and offers you a hand. “May I have this dance?”
“Do I know how to dance?” you whisper frantically as you take his hand. You lift your skirt as he leads you down the steps to the dance floor. “I’m pretty sure I don’t know how to dance!”
“I taught you,” he whispers back. “Just don’t think about it. Let your body do the work.” He places one hand on the small of your back, the other holding yours. A violin comes to life, and suddenly the world fades. It’s just you and Fíli. He starts off gently, slowly, picking up speed. “Don’t look at your feet, look at me. Trust yourself.”
You nod stiffly, still feeling clumsier than a newborn giraffe compared to the surprising grace with which Fíli moves. Though perhaps it shouldn’t be such a surprise, given how skillfully he maneuvers with his swords during a fight. You begin to relax into the rhythm and let him guide you through the steps until muscle memory takes over.
“Get ready,” he murmurs, releasing your hand and gripping your waist firmly. He lifts you up and spins so your skirt flows out around you. Then in one smooth motion, he dips you low. The music fades, and he straightens up, eyes locked with yours. He leans in until his mustache beads hit your face and his nose brushes yours. But then he stops, eyes worried, questioning.
There’s hundreds of curious eyes on you both, burning like dragon fire, waiting to see what their prince and princess will do next.
Conscious of your audience, you stand on your toes and carefully press your lips to his. Instantly, his arm around your waist tightens. Fíli lifts you off your feet, hugging you against his body and pulling your head closer with his free hand. Your kiss was soft, chaste. His is rough, desperate. You aren’t quite ready for it, and decline his tongue’s request to explore your mouth. You squirm in his grip.
Fíli releases you and your lips. There’s scattered applause from the room as Fíli sets you back on your feet. “I told you I taught you how to dance.” But there’s no teasing lilt to his voice, no cheeky wink to signal amusement. He won’t make eye contact.
For the rest of the night, it’s like pulling teeth to get a word out of him. Dís and Thorin exchange looks of concern when he quickly excuses himself from his own party after dessert. Then their eyes turn to you.
“He, uh… I think I’m ready to turn in as well,” you mumble. “G’night.”
In your chambers, you carefully remove your dress and slip into your nightgown, very aware of Fíli’s gaze on you. But when you try to meet his eyes, he always seems to be looking elsewhere. You sigh as you pull pins out, letting the braid fall from your hair. Silence hangs heavily, neither of you speaking a word for what seems like hours.
“Was it real?” Fíli asks abruptly.
“Was what real?”
“You know what I mean. When we danced, when we were finished… was it real?” Or was it just what was expected of you?” His voice is clipped, bitter.
You turn to look at him on the edge of the bed, shaking your head in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”
Fíli stares at the floor. “I am trying so hard,” he mutters at last, running a hand down his face. He looks up at you, eyes dull. “I miss my wife.”
Your heart sinks. “Fíli, I’m right here.”
“But you’re not,” he replies sharply. “You are somewhere, and I cannot reach you.” He stands from the bed, taking your face into his hands. “How often do I tell you that I love you?”
“Every day.”
“And how many times have you said it back?”
You open your mouth, but the words won’t follow. It’s been a week, but you can’t recall ever saying it. Tears well up in your eyes.
As if your silence confirmed something in his mind, Fíli’s hands drop from your face. “Right, then.” He nods slowly and turns away. “I… I need to think.”
Though he hasn’t asked you to leave, he would never, you make for the door. “Happy birthday,” you whisper before heading down the hallway.
Kíli’s room? No, he probably snuck Tauriel in there. Dís? She would want to talk about it, and you’re not in the mood for solutions. What you need is quiet companionship.
So your feet carry you past the living room, down the hall, to a wooden door rimmed with gold.
“Thorin?” Your voice is small. For a moment, you worry he won’t hear you on the other side.
Heavy footsteps precede the door opening. Thorin looks down at you, book in hand, mildly irritated at being interrupted. He softens when he sees your expression, wide-eyed and hurt. Heaving a sigh, Thorin opens his door further. “Come in.”
You follow him inside, curling up on a plush chair by the dying fire.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing.”
“Do not insult my intelligence. You are a worse liar than Fíli.”
“Nothing,” you insist. “He just… wants to be alone for a bit. That’s all.”
Thorin snorts and shakes his head, but there’s pity on his face as well. How can the girl curled up and shivering in the chair be the same brave woman from their quest?
Your vision is almost completely obscured by tears, but you refuse to let yourself cry in front of the king. Your king. And your uncle, now, you suppose. He drapes a blanket over your shoulders.
That’ll do it. That simple, kind gesture is all it takes for you to break down.
Thorin stares at you in alarm as you sob into the blanket. He hasn’t had to deal with something like this since the boys were children. After waffling back and forth on what to do, he settles on patting your shoulder awkwardly. “Stay, if you’d like,” he mumbles. He extinguishes the candles he had been reading by and crosses back over to the enormous bed in the corner of the room.
You’re swallowed in darkness, the gloom broken only by faint moonlight and dying embers. Without Fíli’s furnace of a body next to you, the mountain’s chill creeps in beneath your blanket.
It will be a long night.
“Oh come on, every lady must know how to dance!” Kíli rolled his eyes in exasperation.
You shook your head and crossed your arms, sinking further against the mossy log by the fire. “I’m not a lady.” you grumbled. The bark dug into your back, and you missed the warmth and proper beds you had in Lake-town.
“Well then, we must teach you!” Fíli jumped up and offered his hand with a cheeky smile and exaggerated bow. “Oh, most fair and lovely maiden, may I have this dance?”
You looked over to Thorin, hoping he would scold his nephews for their teasing. But he merely raised an eyebrow at you, sucking on his pipe. It was the same guarded, skeptical look he’d given you and Fíli after the escape from Mirkwood.
Fíli hardly left your side ever since—usually dragging Kíli along. He would wrap his arm around your waist, or duck his head to nuzzle your ear and whisper things that made you snicker as you half-heartedly tried to push him away.
Even Thorin, not exactly known for being perceptive, could see what was happening. He’d seen the look before on his sister’s face, many years ago. Fíli was in love, smitten, even. There was no other way to describe it.
He had found his One.
And if the glow in your eyes and blush on your cheeks whenever you met Fíli’s gaze were anything to go by, so had you.
When your silent plea to Thorin went unanswered, you sighed and accepted Fíli’s hand. “Fine. Just don’t crush my feet or anything.” Not for the first time, you marveled at how easily Fíli could pull you up.
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be the one stepping on anyone’s toes tonight,” he chuckled. With one arm around your waist, he took your hand. “Just mirror what I’m doing,” he instructed. You gave your audience a nervous glance, but Fili squeezed your hand, beckoning you to look back up at him. “Just the two of us.”
As he stepped backwards, you stepped forward. When he stepped to the side, you followed.
Fíli smiled. “There you go, you’re getting it!” But he moved a bit too quickly, and your momentum sent you stumbling over a tree root rising from your makeshift dance floor. His arm shot out to catch you, his large hand splayed across your chest. You both turned scarlet when you realized what his palm was cupping. Immediately, he moved his hand lower, but that did nothing but bring his fingers dangerously close to the forbidden zone.
“Careful,” you hissed under your breath, sneaking a peek at the Company. Everyone was watching. “You’re a bit too far south.”
He turned even redder and released you. “Maybe we can practice when we have a more… suitable venue?”
“You can’t be finished yet, Fíli,” Bofur scolded with a grin. “You haven’t shown her the best part!”
“It’s not nearly as fun while she’s wearing trousers,” Fíli grumbled. “She needs a dress for it to work properly.”
Indignation stirred in your chest, and crossed your arms, glaring up at the blonde prince. Your face was still flushed red from the almost intimate moment between the pair of you. “I’m terribly sorry I’m not lady-like enough for your tastes,” you huffed.
“It’s not that!” he sputtered with wide eyes. “It’s…” You could almost see the gears in his head turning, weighing his options to salvage the moment. “It’s like this.”
Suddenly, his hands gripped your waist, and he raised you up in the air. With practiced ease, Fíli spun both of you around. Your hair fanned out around you like a halo. Just as you finished the turn, he dipped you down low, so low you were surprised he didn’t fall over himself.
Everything went still. You held your breath while he started breathing harder. You spared another look at the Company.
they’re staring they’re staring oh god have we kissed in front of thorin before i don’t think we’ve kissed in front of thorin oh no what’s he going to–
Fíli quickly reclaimed your attention as he rubbed his nose against yours, his mustache beads cool against your heated skin. And then his lips were on yours, warm and soft, driving any thoughts of self-consciousness from your mind. He ran his fingers through your hair, and you reached up to fist your hands in his own locks, both of you pulling each other closer.
“I suppose this is official now?” you whispered when he finally broke away for air.
Fíli’s only response was a lopsided smile.
Someone let out a whistle—Kíli, of course. Fíli rolled his eyes and straightened up, his fingers still tangled in your hair.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind you. You tensed, afraid to turn around in fear of what you might find on Thorin’s face. Fíli rubbed his hand up and down your back. Searching his face and not finding any anger or defiance as he looked at his uncle, you spared a look over your shoulder.
It wasn’t what you expected. Thorin looked tired, stern, yes, but almost relieved. As if he had carried a heavy burden for miles, and finally laid it down.
“Thorin, I–” you began.
He cut you off with a small shake of his head. “Just… be good to each other.” He put a strong hand on Fíli’s shoulder and said something in Khuzdûl. You didn’t understand the words, but Fíli’s face brightened. Other members of the Company began whispering among themselves.
“What?” You exchanged a confused look with Bilbo, the only other person not fluent in the dwarves’ native tongue. “What did he say?”
Fíli just smiled. “Nothing important,” he assured you. He sat down and pulled you into his lap, pausing to press his nose into your hair to inhale your scent. You hardly imagined you smelled good, but he let his nose linger. Then he carded his fingers through your hair, ridding it of tangles and knots until he had a soft, neat canvas for his artistry. Taking the strands into his hands, he wove an intricate braid, humming as he did so.
Fíli looked again to Thorin, then Kíli. His brother nodded, a genuine, non-teasing smile on his face.
Reassured by his family’s approval, he removed one of his own beads and fixed it at the end of your new courting braid.
As soon as he secured it, cheers rose from the rest of the Company. Small bags and pieces of gold flew across camp—were they betting on you and Fíli? Kíli wiggled his eyebrows at you as his pile of coins grew.
But as the gold stopped flying and the losers stopped grumbling, you realized that Thorin had the biggest pile of them all.
He caught your eye, face perfectly impassive, and winked.
#fanfiction#fíli#kíli#fili x you#fili x reader#the hobbit#thorin oakenshield#dís#angst and hurt/comfort#it gets angstier before it gets fluffier#don’t say i didn’t warn you#everybody lives
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fucking the attitude away | Tom Kaulitz
it was one of those days, your period had to come and you were feeling moody. usually you were always sweet and calm but when it was that time of the month, for two-three days you were always pouting, complaining or just being mean with your answers. it was out of your control and you felt bad right after and that lead to crying.
today, you were sitting on your bed just searching through the internet and trying to make a good research for your university but you didn’t know where to start and it was frustrating you.
it didn’t help that your boyfriend Tom kept nagging you. “what you doing?” he sang out again, throwing a sock right at you. you huffed and glared at him meanwhile you picked up the sock and threw it towards him. “i told you already, stop it.”
he mimicked your voice, “what’s more important than me?” he said with a sly smirk.
“my homework. now leave me alone.” you sternly said, your eyes never leaving your computer.
tom furrowed his eyebrows together, suddenly becoming serious, “what’s with the attitude?”
“well you keep being an asshole.” you rolled your eyes and only after that you realised what you had said. oh oh.
tom got up from his seat infront of the desk and quickly walked towards the bed, picking up your computer and throwing it across the room.
you gasped widening your eyes at him, “my computer! tom what the fuck?!”
you actually didn’t care about it. you knew tom would’ve bought you another one if it was broken. but now you were horny and your plan was about to begin.
“watch your mouth.” he demanded as he grabbed you by your legs and dragged you to the edge of the bed where he was standing, “also, roll your eyes at me again and see what happens.”
you liked where this was going so why not play with him?
“oh really? what will happen? you’ll punish me?” you asked ironically even though you knew what was about to go down.
tom scoffed and smirked at you before placing himself on top of you, his knees on both of your sides as his left hand pinned your arms above your head. with just his right hand he began to take off his belt before using it to tie your arms together.
you faked trying to get away but it couldn’t happen, he was stronger and bigger than you were.
“let’s see if you keep acting like a little bitch after i’m done fucking you hard.” he raised your skirt so that he could see your black laced panties, the ones he liked. his eyes glittered at the sight.
“you’re all talk.” you kept pushing his buttons knowing it would work. you could see it in his face. the need to put you in your place and show you who’s in charge.
tom let out a small sarcastic laugh while shaking his head, “you have no idea what i’m going to do to you. i’ll make you cry. you won’t be able to walk.” as soon as he finished his sentence he moved your panties a bit out of the way, and just when you thought he was about to finger you, he put his length all in you without a warning.
you threw your head back, screaming his name while he pounded in you like an animal. he wasn’t stopping, he just kept pushing in you harder and harder, faster and faster, as he sucked on your neck leaving red spots all over it.
“not talking now huh?” you could feel his hot breath on your neck as he spoke, sending you shivers across your spine.
he played with your clit for awhile making you moan even louder, his name a mantra that you kept reciting.
“you’re such a slut for me, aren’t you? you needed my cock so you could shut up, fucking whore.” he kept degrading you, wrapping his hand around your neck.
“say it. say you’re my slut.” he demanded looking into your eyes as he kept pushing, but once you were not answering he stopped for a moment.
“say it or i won’t go on.”
you collected the strength left in you and tried to speak, “i-i am your slut, daddy. i-i only need you.”
those words made him groan and he started his pace again, even faster this time. his hand was still around your neck as he watched himself slide in and out of you, the sight made his stomach twirl and he felt himself getting closer. “you’re taking it so well for me.”
you rolled your eyes at the back of your head, feeling close to your high as well as tom kept going in and out of you. you felt him so deep in you.
“this is the only way you can roll your eyes at me.” he commented before biting his lower lip.
“i-i’m close!” you moaned out arching your back, tears streaming down your cheeks because of the pleasure.
he nodded frantically, “shit. me too baby.” he let go of your neck and placed his hands at the sides of your head.
he stared deeply in your eyes and at that point both of you were a moaning mess, he kept groaning and cussing while you kept whimpering and crying out.
“be a good girl and come with daddy. okay? let’s come together.” you nodded at his words as you felt like you were about to pass out from the intensity of the moment. he crushed your lips on yours, kissing you sloppily and before you knew, you both let go and came together. you moaned into the kiss before he bit your lower lip.
breathing heavily, he fell on top of you closing his eyes. you wrapped your arms around his back, your hand playing with his hair.
“next time you need to fuck just say it, don’t make me mad.” he mumbled making you laugh.
“i did it on purpose, you’re hot when you get mad.” you said making him raise his head and look at you with tired but lustful eyes.
“make me mad some more then?”
hope you guys liked it!
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“Minister.”
Hermione’s steps don’t even falter when she hears the voice of her most irritating Wizengamot opponent. Her eyes flick up, a quick once over, just long enough to note that Draco Malfoy is staring at her with his glittering silver eyes. His pale hair is combed neatly back, and he is dressed as always in imposing black robes with silver detailing and standing beside her lift as if an impending invitation is assumed.
Her lips press together into a flat line and she doesn’t say a word of acknowledgement until she reaches the lift.
Her undersecretaries and assistants all line up behind her, waiting as the lift descends towards them.
“What brings you here today, Malfoy?” she finally asks in a cool voice, not looking at him again.
He pivots, standing shoulder to shoulder with her. “Familial duties, as always, Minister. I am after all the steward of my family's legacy.”
Her stomach flutters and she forces herself to keep her eyes on the lift.
“Indeed. And these matters involve me?”
There is a brief pause and she glances at him out of the corner of her eye. His expression is as placid and indifferent as a lake. “I fear the matter rests entirely upon you.”
The lift chimes as it lands, and she looks away.
“Then I hope you scheduled something with my secretary,” she says in a cold voice as she steps on the lift. Her retort elicits a few quiet chuckles.
She expects him to push his luck, dangle a vote or even presumptuously step in beside her, just to see how she’ll react, but Malfoy just stands there as the undersecretaries flow past, crowding into the lift beside her, trying to appear respectful while being unwilling to wait for the next lift. The politics of being seen in proximity to the Minister is an endless circus.
“Happy birthday, Madame Minister,” Malfoy says with a thin smirk, his voice lifting into a lilting taunt as he stands watching her and the doors slide shut between them.
Hermione winces as everyone in the lift turns and begins cooing congratulations and wishing her a happy birthday and she’s forced to smile and thank them, but inside all she’s thinking about is that, of course he didn’t schedule anything with her secretary.
She lets out a nearly soundless breath.
“Are you alright, Minister?” asks the senior assistant to some undersecretary who’s crammed obsequiously under her elbow.
She forces a smile, staring ahead. “Of course. I’m fine.”
—
“How did you get in here?”
She’s barely inside her office, but her arms are already indignantly crossed.
Malfoy is sitting in her office, seated across from her desk, pouring himself tea.
He would have had to run up at least seven flights of stairs to have gotten here first.
He glances up, a slight flush on his cheeks. He did run.
“Your secretary let me in.”
“She just let you walk in?” She finds this hard to believe as Hermione's appointment book is treated as sacrosanct.
He glances at her slyly. “I have an appointment.”
Her stomach flips, and it takes physical effort to keep her expression neutral. Her heart flutters. “You — did schedule something then?”
He stands and walks over to her, and every inch of him groomed and imposing as he closes in on her.
“Eight months ago, as a matter of fact. In my free time, which I have considerably more than you due to being both titled and wealthy, I have discovered that it takes a tremendous amount of planning to kidnap a Minister of Magic out of her office.”
“To do what?” is all she manages to say, not even having time to back away before he wraps an arm around her waist and they both vanish.
“Take me back!” she shouts the instant they land and then she smacks him. He doesn't even flinch.
“You’re going to get arrested! There are alarms and wards on that entire floor!” she says, trying to extricate herself as he walks her backwards, his fingers already on the buttons of her robes, sliding them off to puddle on the floor.
She tries to push him away. “They could kill you if they think I'm kidnapped! Take me back. Draco, I’m Traced. You can’t just — portkey the Minister of Magic out of her office! Do you have any idea what kind of a security breach that is?”
“I do,” he presses his lips against the curve of her throat and nuzzles her as he finds the zipper on her skirt. “That’s why I said it took planning. Stop talking.”
“But —“ she loses a shoe in the thick rug, and lets the other slide off, simultaneously pushing him away and gripping his robes, trying to shake some sense into him. “Someone will notice. The aurors will blow up your entire house —“
He has a hand tangled in her hair at the base of her neck, and he kisses her, deep and long, swallowing at least ten objections, his hands cradling her face. He doesn’t stop until her eyes lose focus, and she stops trying to squirm free. She relents for a moment and kisses him back because she has missed him. So, so much more than she has wanted to admit even to herself.
He draws back and kisses the very tip of her nose. “I have planned this extensively. No one is going to burst in.”
“Harry—“
“Is aware. Disgusted but aware. I am not entirely suicidal. Your best friend in law enforcement is not going to dispatch anyone or burst through the windows himself shouting expelliarmus. I promised to have you back by noon.”
She’s silent for a moment, glancing around the room. “You really planned this.”
He only looks a little aggrieved. “Yes. As I said, tremendous planning. Now please, send the Minister of Magic who lives in your head away and let me have Hermione Granger to myself for a few hours on her birthday.”
She exhales. “You said you weren’t coming to my birthday. I didn’t think I’d see you today.”
He’s silent for a moment. “Tricking the Wizengamot into thinking we’re in opposition has been a successful strategy in slipping your legislation through on both sides of the aisle. Unfortunately, that means you can’t have dinner with only close friends and invite me. We can’t have it both ways.”
She looks down. “I’m sorry.”
He tilts her face back up and smirks. “Don’t apologise, it was my idea and I’m still very proud of it. I quite enjoy manipulating hateful old inbreds into passing your agenda to spite you." He presses his hands over his heart. "Now that everyone saw you snub me so cruelly at the lifts, no one is going to realise that I snuck up and spirited you away.”
She smiles at that, resting her forehead against his chest, basking in the moment.
He tilts her chin up and kisses her slowly. “Now, as previously stated, I am dire need of your assistance. Please allow me to spend the next two hours betraying all the values and traditions of my name and family with you,” his hand slithers beneath her shirt. “Assuming that it’s acceptable to you, Madam Minister.”
—-
Afterwards, his finger trail lazily along her spine as she sits beside him, trying to get her hair to stop frizzing in every direction. Even after years of practice, her curls still sometimes rebel beyond her capacity to tame them.
Finally defeated, she goes over to the mirror, meeting his eyes in the reflection as she coats Sleekeazy on her hands and scrunches it into her hair. He watches her through lowered lashes, looking positively angelic lying in the middle of the bed as if he hadn’t been engaged in a number of entirely depraved things only ten minutes earlier.
But when she looks up at him again, the smile on his face has slipped away, and he’s studying her wistfully, quickly averting his eyes when she catches him.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
He sighs. “I just wish I’d fallen in love with you the first time I saw you.”
She laughs, trying not to let the afterglow slip away so quickly, but it is always awful when she has to go, and he has to let her and then wait for her to have time for him again or invent ways to see her that won’t raise eyebrows.
“We were eleven, and my hair and teeth were atrocious then, and you were wearing enough hair product to drown a seabird. We’re much better matched now. Even if everyone thinks we’re political enemies.”
He doesn’t smile. “Still, I wish I had. I wish all those years at Hogwarts had been different. I wish I’d spent my whole life loving you. I feel like now, no matter how much time we have, it will never be enough and I can’t fix that and it’s my fault.”
She worries at the inside of her lip and glances at the clock, the hands are dangerously close to noon. She should go.
No. This is more important.
She climbs back into the bed next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing across his chest.
"You should go," he says. "The portkey is on the table."
She shakes her head. “Marry me.”
He goes still, not even breathing for several seconds.
“When?” he finally asks. Such a careful question.
She sits up, taking his hand in hers, running her fingertips across the back of his knuckles before entwining her fingers with him. “Now.” Then she sighs. “Well, not right this minute, but soon. Marry me soon.”
He sits up, pressing a kiss against her bare shoulder. “You know that will ruin the trick, and I know you have more you want to do.”
She shakes her head. “No. We’ve already passed the ones that mattered most. Let’s stop. Let's be done now. I don’t like hiding you. I don’t want you to have to keep pretending to still be someone you’re not anymore just so I can pass the things I want in the Wizengamot. It isn’t fair to you. We’ve made a difference. Of course, there will always be more, but it costs too much.”
He wraps an arm around her shoulders, resting his chin on her head. “Don’t. I’m just sulking because I already miss you. Don't mind me.”
She shakes her head again, twisting free and then straddling him in the bed so she can meet his eyes and study him.
The expression in them is guarded.
It’s a subtle wall, but she’s learned to spot it, the way he attempts to distance himself from things when he doesn’t want to let on that it matters to him. And this matters to him.
“I mind,” she says softly. “I don’t want to wait until it’s politically convenient to choose you. I want to choose you now.”
He says nothing.
She can see him calculating, trying to deduce if she really, truly wants this or if she’s just doing it for him.
She nuzzles his face to keep him from spiralling into an infinity of possibilities, kissing across his sharp cheekbones. “Say you’ll marry me, Draco Malfoy. For my birthday.”
He closes his eyes, hiding his tell from her.
She kisses both his eyelids. “Marry me,” she whispers. "Please."
He wraps his arms around her waist, bare skin against bare skin, exhaling unsteadily as if he’s struggling to stay composed, but his voice is still light when he speaks.
“I was under the impression that this was my moment of glory. Remember the elaborate kidnapping out of the Minister’s office? I had to make my own portkey. It took months of research. You’re really going to overshadow all my hard work by proposing to me right now?”
She brushes his hair off his face and kisses his forehead. “Yes. I’m afraid so. Cooperate with your Minister. I’m very popular in the polls.”
He gives a dry laugh but when he speaks, his voice is gruff and he sounds like he’s going to cry and he’s still avoiding her eyes, he is miles away from that cold, supercilious aristocrat who sweeps through the Wizengamot chambers and constantly votes against her with coldly glittering eyes.
“Alright. If you’re sure it’s what you want.”
She wraps her arms around his shoulders. "I am quite sure."
The clock chimes, signalling noon but neither of them pays any attention.
They’re both redressing half an hour later, and it’s still not been enough time but it will do for now. They will have so much time soon. Draco glances at her as he buttons his shirt. “So we’re engaged, and I didn’t even get to propose. I’m not used to this. Does that mean I get the ring?”
She laughs as she clasps her bra behind her back. “Yes. I suppose so. I’ve never actually looked into it. I’ll have to pick something out, unless you prefer to.”
He gives her a wounded look before glancing demurely away. “Of course you have to pick it out. I won’t tolerate half-hearted measures. I require much wooing, intricate courtship displays, and the gift of something shiny before I can be prevailed into matrimony.”
She snorts as she tucks her shirt it into her skirt and slips into her shoes.
“Alright. I’ll be sure to get something very shiny with lots of snakes and dragon motifs.”
He looks at her in abject horror. “On second thought, perhaps we should pick it out together.”
Her eyes are dancing but she retains her mock solemnity as she pulls her robes onto her shoulders. “Only if you want. I don’t want you feeling insufficiently courted. Will you come to my birthday now?”
He looks uncertain again. “Are you sure? The Wizangamot assembles Thursday, shouldn’t we —“
“No,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “I don’t want to wait.”
His eyes narrow as he studies her. “Who are you and what have you done with the overthinking woman I’ve been working with all these years? Not that I’m complaining about this sudden upheaval of rule and order, I do, after all, thrive on chaos, but I’m not sure I know you.”
Hermione just shrugs. “It turns out the Minister of Magic is very possessive and tired of waiting to be happy."
He still looks doubtful.
Has she really turned into someone considered predictable and orderly?
She huffs. "Stop staring at me like I've sprouted a second head. They say that women reach a point where they stop caring about what anyone thinks. I suppose I reached it today. If you're going to change your mind, you'd better run now."
He smiles then. "Never."
He picks up the portkey, and they go spinning away, back to the Ministry but into a new life.
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Flight of the Night | Chapter 7
Word count: 0.8K
A/N: A little chapter, in between assignments.
The following evening Cassian relays all that happened with Feyre and the Weaver to me as I get ready to go out.
We’re dragging Rhys along to finally loosen up a little bit, I fasten the buttons on my satin shirt. “And you’re going to the Mortal Realm tomorrow?”
Cassian nods from his place at my desk, eyeing the pieces of jewellery strewn across it. “Remind me why I’m coming and you’re not?”
“Rhys is asking Mor.” I roll my eyes, “Not that she’ll want to go, but he’ll try.”
Cassian twirls around in the chair with one of the rings in his hands, fiddling with it. “I know, but why am I coming? You’re better with words out of the two of us.”
My eyes glitter in amusement as I give him a grin. “He’ll want the extra protection.”
He looks unimpressed as he says, “That’s not a reason to leave you here, we’re equal in power.”
Now it’s my turn to look unimpressed, I gesture towards one of his Siphons with my head and make my way to where he’s sitting.
“Oh come on, you’re just as much a warrior as I am.”
I laugh softly and pick up my rings, gliding them over the correct fingers, “We’ll see what Mor says.”
❧ ⸻ ☙
Just as I thought, Mor was not in the mood to join the others in the Mortal Realm, no matter how much Rhys pestered her about it.
We had taken up a booth, the five of us, at Rita’s. Cassian and Azriel are well into their drinking binge, I watch as Cassian loses the card game again and Azriel grins.
I smile softly, rolling my eyes when Cass groans from beside me and downs his drink in defeat.
“Why don’t you take Lyssa instead?” I tune into Mor and Rhys’s conversation when she drops my name.
Looking to the end of the booth, both of them are looking at me. I hadn’t realised they were still bickering about tomorrow. “What?”
“Three Illyrians might be pushing it for the humans.” Rhys reasons with her.
Mor sighs, “I think it would be good for them to see another female.”
While Rhys thinks it over I turn my attention back to the two Illyrians, right as Azriel slaps his hand flat on the table. My eyes widen and my brows furrow, immediately scanning the environment for a potential threat. Only when I hear Cassian’s boisterous laugh do I realise Az lost this round. I shake my head at the two of them.
“Lyss, you’re going with us tomorrow.” Rhys orders and I nod to him, showing I’ve heard his statement.
Cassian falls on me, throwing his arms around my body. “I told you!”
“Okay, now that that’s settled. Let’s get you drunk.” Mor says to Rhys, her hand shooting up to signal the waiter.
A couple of hours and many drinks later, I’m on the dancefloor with Mor and Cass, while Az and Rhys keep drinking in the booth, watching us.
Mor’s red dress, matching my shirt, twirls around her as she herself twirls all over the dancefloor. Cassian struggling to catch up to her, his intoxication becoming clearer as he trips over his feet.
I saunter over to the booth, my eyes hooded as I grin at the two males before me. Azriel starts shaking his head, before I reach them, but he’s too late to shuffle back into the booth as I grab his wrists, pulling.
The soft whine that leaves his lips has me throwing my head back in a laugh, but I push on, pulling him successfully from the booth and over to the dancefloor. Rhys follows suit, going over to Cassian and Mor, who drag him along instantly.
Once he’s on the dancefloor, surrounded by other fae, it doesn’t take long for Azriel to start moving to the beat. The liquor in his system quickly taking over his senses and I move along with him, enjoying his company.
My arms raise and my body moves on it’s own, letting the music take over. The dimmed lights filtering through my closed eyelids, a hand slides over my abdomen and they fly open again.
I recognise Azriel’s overwhelming scent as he pulls me back flush against his body, resting his chin on my shoulder and I close my eyes again. Dancing on. My body singing.
We break apart forcefully as an out of breath Mor crashes into us, followed by Cassian and Rhys.
“I need a drink,” Mor says as the three of them lead us back to the booth and we spend the rest of the night, talking and drinking amongst ourselves, often taking a break with a little dance.
A/N: I've finally finished ACOSF! I need more! But anyway, I've decided to not follow the books exactly, the storyline will be the same, but I won't be including all of the chapter in this story. Only the ones of importance to Lyssa's character or to the story will be included. Until I start branching off to tell Lyssa's story. Which will probably take place after ACOSF - that is if I don't change my mind once I've read AHOFAS.
This is what I had in mind for Lyssa's outfit for this chapter (but you are of course free to imagine anything) Let me know if you want me to continue adding these!:
Taglist: @inloveallthetime @mybestfriendmademe @blackgirlmagicforever @dreammoutlouddd
#acotar#acotar fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar fic#acotar imagine#acotar x oc#acotar x reader#flight of the night#acomaf#azriel#cassian#rhysand#mor acotar#morrigan#rhys acotar#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#cassian acotar#general cassian#high lord rhysand
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kate for someone reason thinking jamie is homophobic not sure why or how but she does (sara has me obsessed with the idea that they can’t stand each other now lol) and then him introducing her to gary and she’s like 🤯 ft. micah in the corner like you didn’t know he never shuts up about him???
god Kate and Jamie literally CANNOT STAND EACH OTHER!!! I'm OBSESSED with that dynamic tbh!!!!!!! As always. this one is much longer than intended...
Also, don't need to have read it but this is technically intended to tie in to my fic Happy wife, happy life (but tldr Jamie regularly calls Gary his wife partly to keep their relationship under wraps but mostly bc. he finds it funny to call Gary his wife.)
---
“Obviously we’re done for the season right before pride month kicks off,” one of the CBS producers is saying, eyes darting over something on an iPad. “And since you four have been pretty popular we were thinking of including you in some of those ad campaigns, so if I could just get some dates off of all of you –”
“No,” Jamie says immediately.
All three of his colleagues snap their heads up to him, but only Kate looks at him coolly and says “no?”
Micah, because he’s Micah, chuckles and slaps Jamie in the shoulder, trying to diffuse some of the new tension in the air. “Not like you to turn down extra cash, Carra.”
Jamie rolls his eyes, pretends not to notice the way Kate’s eyes are burning into him. “Check my contract. Wish I could, honest,” he says to the producer, feeling very very glad that he had a clause added to his contract specifically so that he doesn’t have to take part in things like this, “But it just wouldn’t be do-able. You lot ‘ave fun, though, with yer rainbows and yer glitter.”
Kate just looks at him incredulously. “This is one thing you decide to take a stand on, mister ‘I don’t care about politics’?”
Rainbows just don’t really suit Jamie, is the thing. Nor does the extra scrutiny that comes from wearing rainbows.
Doesn’t really matter to him what Kate thinks of him, though, so he just shrugs and continues packing up his stuff for the day.
*
“Jamie – Jamie, I finally got onto Raya, can you have a look at my profile?”
Jamie looks up at Micah with a frown. “What the fuck is a Raya?”
“It’s a dating app,” Kate says from her end of the desk, in that unimpressed tone of hers that makes Jamie wonder why she’s bothering to insert herself into the conversation at all.
“An exclusive dating app,” Micah corrects, wiggling his phone in front of Jamie.
“Weren’t you already seeing someone?” asks Jamie, but he accepts the phone with a sigh and puts his glasses on. “I don’t – I’ve never used one of these things, what am I meant to be lookin’ at?”
Micah shrugs. “Didn’t work out,” he says breezily. “How have you never used a dating app, you’ve not been married that long. And look at yourself, you can’t tell me you weren’t a player before Mrs Carra came along.”
Jamie had got around a bit, in his playing days. Not much, mind, because he’d had to be careful, but he’d done alright. Unfortunately – and this is not something he’ll ever admit to anyone, even under duress – any thoughts of that had gone out the window the moment he’d walked onto the Sky campus after retiring.
“You���re right,” he says with a wink, “look at me. As if I’d need an app to find myself a bird. Why’d you want me to look at this, I’m not exactly your target audience. ‘less there’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ us,” he adds, elbowing Micah and waggling his eyebrows.
Kate looks on unimpressed as the two of them double over in laughter. “Not that any of us would have a problem if you were, right Jamie?” she says haughtily.
Jamie catches Micah’s eye and has to fight back another bout of laughter. “Dunno,” he says, “I can think of one or two problems I’d ‘ave if Big Meeks here suddenly tried hittin’ on me.”
Micah bursts out laughing again, his hand clapping to Jamie’s forearm, and Jamie can’t help but join in – it’s infectious, okay?
“God,” Micah says, wiping a tear from his eye, “can you imagine how your missus would react. I’d never be able to work in television again.”
“Nah, she’d prob’ly send you a fruit basket, thank you for taking me off ‘er hands.”
Kate clears her throat and the two of them sober immediately at the sight of her raised eyebrow. “Maybe cool it with the outdated banter,” she says, “or do I need to remind you boys that you’re not in a dressing room anymore?”
She storms off, he heels click-clicking away as Jamie and Micah look at each other and try (and fail) not to start laughing again.
*
“You didn’t want to bring your wife to the end of season party, then?” Kate asks politely, looking slowly around the room.
“Huh?” Jamie says eloquently, because he’s had a couple of glasses of prosecco and he’s not thinking as quickly as he usually might. “Oh, the missus. Yeah, she’s here but – I dunno, she’s a bit shy, like. You didn’t invite Malik?”
Kate rolls her eyes, the way she always does when Jamie mentions her boyfriend. “Well, he lives in America. So.”
“Carra,” an annoying voice calls from just behind him, “Carra, come over ‘n meet Schmeichel? I’ve not seen ‘im in years, d’you know, I think I’d forgot how tall he was.”
Jamie puts a hand on the small of Gary’s back to keep him from bouncing around too much (the man is such a lightweight, it’s embarrassing), and says “I’ve already met Peter, you dolt. I work with ‘im, remember?”
Gary squints at him for a second. “You drag me all the way down to London, and then y’can’t even be bothered to –” he finally seems to realise that Jamie had been talking to someone, because he quickly shakes his head around a bit and holds a hand out to Kate with a smile. “You’re Kate, right? I love what you do on the show, honest, I’m always sayin’ people need to be meaner to James here.”
Jamie thinks he sees Kate blush a bit, like she hadn’t realised anyone else had noticed her dislike of Jamie, but she takes Gary’s offered hand anyway. “And of course you’re the famous Gary Neville, I’ve heard a lot about you,” she greets. “But aren't you still with Sky? What brings you to our little operation here?”
“Scopin’ out the competition,” he says with a wink, then turns back to Jamie. “Carra – Peter?”
“I said no! I’ll talk to him later, stop badgerin’ me.”
“Did you two travel down from Manchester together?” asks Kate, “You know, Jamie seems so invested in my relationship but none of us have ever met his wife, do you know where she’s got to?”
“Ah, his fuckin’ wife,” Gary mutters, smirking up at Jamie. Jamie winks in reply and slips his hand down a bit to pinch him on the arse.
Micah comes over, his tuxedo strained against his biceps, and he pulls Gary away from Jamie to throw an arm around his shoulder in a half-hug.
(Gary squirms a bit at the unexpected contact, but he still gives Micah a friendly pat on the chest.)
“Big Nev! It’s been ages, man – Jamie told us you were coming, but he’s promised that before and not delivered.”
“Been pretty busy, up in Manchester,” Gary says with a shrug, carefully extracting himself from under Micah’s arm and returning to Jamie’s side. “But I’m obliged to do the plus one thing at least two –” (“Three,” Jamie corrects,) “—fine, three times a year, and I figure there’re worse places to be.”
“Aw, you love it really,” Micah says. “I’ve always kind of wondered what it’s like to be a WAG.”
Gary rolls his eyes. “It’s a thankless job, to be fair.” He pokes Jamie in the bicep and adds “I’m going back to talk t' Peter, you miserable old twat. Honest, I’m always talkin' to Scousers fer you.”
“I already know –” Jamie starts to protest, but Gary’s already wandered off. “Ugh. Sorry about ‘im. You can’t take Mancs anywhere, can ya?”
The two Mancs he’s talking to look at him, unimpressed.
“He seemed nice,” Kate says carefully.
“He’s not,” Jamie replies.
*
“Good summer?” Micah asks, their first show back after the break.
“Brilliant,” Jamie replies with a grin. “It were my turn to choose the destination, so –”
“Ibiza?”
He nods. “Ibiza. The house was done just in time, too.”
“You know, I can’t really imagine Gary in Ibiza.”
“Oh, he hates it. Complained the whole time, but he does that wherever we go.”
He becomes aware that Kate is watching them from across the desk, not trying to hide that she’s listening to their conversation with curiosity. Jamie nods to her, all polite like. “Hows about you, Kate, good summer?”
“It was fine, I –” she shakes her head. “Sorry, you’re saying you go on holiday with Gary Neville?”
Micah scoffs. “Who else would he go with?” he asks, and Jamie points to him in agreement.
“I dunno, his wife?”
Jamie blinks.
He thought he’d got all this out the way, dragging Gary along to the party a couple of months ago. Apparently not.
“Gary is my wife,” he says, then suddenly feels very stupid saying that to someone who’s not already in on the joke, so he corrects to “my husband, I mean. Obviously he’s not – he’s a man. Obviously.”
Kate’s eyes are wide, unblinking. She looks between Jamie and Micah, lips pressed together while her brain seems to be buffering.
“You’re married to a man?” she says eventually. “But you’re not gay, I mean – you’re –”
Jamie, who last time he checked definitely was gay, raises an eyebrow, amused. “I’m what?”
“You’re a footballer,” she attempts, and oh, this is far too easy.
“Bit ‘omophobic, that, sayin’ footballers can’t be gay,” he replies, holding back a smirk.
“Oh shut up, you know what I – you’re a lad! You’re always with the banter, and the…”
Thierry wanders over, freshly brewed cup of tea in hand. “What have you two done this time?” he asks, looking pointedly at Jamie and Micah.
Jamie raises his hands to protest his innocence.
“Thierry,” Kate asks, reaching a hand out towards him, “did you know Jamie’s married to a man?”
Thierry rolls his eyes. “Ugh, fucking Neville,” he replies, and goes to sit down.
#thank you for the prompt I LOVED this and also. I've been waiting for an excuse to write more for that fic so heheeee here we are#carraville#drabbles#also in this universe since i never got into it in the main fic or in this drabble. jamie and gary got together after valencia#except it was more like a weird situationship/fwb thing for years and then they spent lockdown together and when things opened up were like#'hey why dont we get married lol'. and now are very happy together (always insulting each other)#wife gary saga
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Goth-Pod Ep 7: Metropolis vs Gotham
Welcome back to goth pod! Will Juda Boone see a city rivalry put to rest? Seems unlikely in a 4 minute episode! But join us anyway for the question: Metropolis or Gotham?
[goth-pod is a fictional, in-universe podcast based on the DC comics universe. Juda Boone is an original fictional character, not based on any real person or known comic book character.]
Transcript under the cut
Hello everyone and welcome back to Goth-Pod! Your Gotham based podcast. I am, of course, your favorite unconquered tri-state area and host, Juda Boone
I can't believe I'm about to say this, but this episode is sponsored by Wayne Enterprise.
Wayne Enterprise is a multi-faceted company based out of Gotham. The rebranding of their tech line is scheduled for the first of the new month, so keep an eye out for that. They sent over an entire box of Wayne Tech recording equipment and I am more than stoked to try it out.
Whoever got our last joke episode on the desk of Bruce Wayne or Bruce Wayne's Team, I am simultaneously mortified and honored.
Now, onto today's episode.
Metropolis is Gotham’s sister city. Some say they can see the glittering skyscrapers from across the bay on a clear day- but I have never known a clear day in Gotham in my life, so I don't know where they got that.
But, if she’s our sister city, why the ever-so-loud rivalry?
Before we continue, I am noting that I will not be touching on the Superman / Batman debate. That would be a whole different episode.
We posted a poll on our socials with the simple question: Metropolis or Gotham? This poll resulted in 139 votes. 21% voted Metropolis. 79% voted Gotham
But I think that's to be expected from our audience. We're Gotham based. Before I'm a host, I'm a Gothamite. I've had 23 years to develop my bias for my home city, something I think our listeners can relate to.
And it comes down to that key word: Home. The pride and possessiveness that comes with a sense of belonging. I'm sure the results would've been different if we were Metropolis-based.
Really, I get it! I’ve heard just about every verbose rant about “How could anyone live in a city like Gotham?” And there are points I agree with! I understand the deep, deep flaws that my city is trying to find solutions for.
Just like I’m sure Metropolis is dealing with Lexcorp running more than half the city with Lex Luthor’s selfish, greedy charm. While you’re handling your gentrification, we’re celebrating the preservation of our historic district.
Or how Gotham U beat the Metropolis Bulldogs this past sports season! Maybe it’s all the sunshine getting in the players eyes? Good luck next year, everyone.
“Oh but I would be afraid to walk home at night!”
Well that's the difference between us! You’re afraid to walk at night. We know how to punch a clown in the face by the time we’re 10!
[Clears throat]
What I meant to say was. Um...
People can feel.. Protective. When something feels like a kindred spirit. Gotham City is a place few people understand. But we, its citizens, it’s children are what makes it. We too stand tall and strange alongside our buildings. We too have our shadows and our secrets that we dare not share with the rest of the world.
Metropolis is a beautiful city. And so is Gotham. To me, Metropolis is beautiful like a sister. Shining with potential, smiling while leaving you behind.
Gotham is beautiful like a mother. Old and scolding. Giving a type of tough love that takes time to understand.
I love my city. I hope my words, in this episode and others, can help others love it the same way.
Thank you for joining me. I’m Juda, you’re listening to Goth-Pod. Until next time, stay safe, Gotham.
#my family CHEERED when i told them about the sponsorship#thank u mr. wayne#dc comics#batman#dcu#batman comics#gothamite#gotham city#gotham#dc universe#gothamite rp#gotham rp#bruce wayne#superman#kal el#lex luthor#metropolis#wayne enterprises#((yes those poll results are legit from my personal acct))#the batman#metropolis vs gotham#goth pod#fictional podcast#dc podcast#gotham podcast#this one is one of my favorites#only in gotham
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