#<-- guy who needs to work on promoting. but i just drew this for fun and for my own self happiness...

[ruporas]

tri-trans! happy#tdov 💘

[finn-m-corvex]

Lightning in a Cubicle Pt. 2

Guess what? Finn is in a creative mood so I'm posting double (possibly triple) tonight!! On top of the first Chapter of Even the Earth Trembles, have the second part of Lightning in a Cubicle! I know the office Jay has died down by now, but I still wanted to continue it because I'm having fun with it. Hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it!

Words: 3.2k

No tws! But I do have a taglist: @/rainofthetwilight, @/giftofjay, @/i-love-jay-walker and @/lightning-chicken (just so you guys don't get tagged when I repost this), this is for all of you! Only the people who explicitly said they wanted to be tagged, so if you want to be on the list for pt3 make sure to specify that!

Jay was ready to throw his boss’s stupid potted plant out the window.

“...and that’s why we’re going to need you to start working longer hours,” Mr. Harding was saying, even though Jay could barely hear him over the blood roaring in his ears. “This new intern needs someone to show her the ropes, and we think you’re the best man for the job.”

Yeah, right, Jay thought to himself, I’m just the only one who isn’t married.

Publicly, anyway.

He forced a smile on his face. “Sounds great, sir. When do I start?”

Mr. Harding barely glanced his way. “You start tomorrow, and you better bring in some good reviews or I will have to demote you.”

“Pardon?” Jay wasn’t sure if he had heard that right.

“If this intern doesn't start showing some promise in the first week, then you will be stripped of your title and moved to the I.T. department.”

What?!

“But sir,” Jay said quickly, “I can’t afford to live on my floor with an I.T. salary!”

“That’s not my problem, uh, John,” Mr. Harding waved him off, going back to whatever he had been doing before Jay had come in. “You’re dismissed.”

Jay quickly bit back the retort he was about to give, instead snatching up his suit jacket from the back of the crummy chair that he had been forced to sit in. He had half a mind to not move his boss’s trashcan a few inches to the left so that anything he tried to throw in there would miss. Lightning crackled under his skin, and Jay knew that all it would take was a snap of his fingers to blow the fuse for the whole floor. That would definitely put a dent in Mr. Harding’s plans, and it would make Jay’s day.

Shutting the door behind him, he sighed heavily. Today would not be that day.

Instead of causing a major power outage, Jay walked back to the elevators, briefcase swinging in his hand. The thing had been useless anyway, because apparently in his rush to get to the meeting he was already an hour late for he had forgotten every single one of his important papers. He had only grabbed the papers covered in the doodles that he drew when he was supposed to be doing his work, go figure.

Mr. Harding had raised an eyebrow at the papers, with just a quick flash of interest that Jay had only barely caught. And then he was immediately chewed out to the bone.

Pressing the button for the elevator with much less force than he had on the way up, Jay let his mind wander about what he had to do for the rest of the day. No more meetings, thankfully, but he did have a presentation for the week after that he had to get done sometime soon. Oh, and if he was going to be doing that presentation, then that meant he needed to type up some kind of summary sheet to pass out to the other meeting participants, especially if he wanted to go for that promotion…

Someone snapped their fingers in front of his face, and Jay was shaken back into reality. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I was thinking about something, I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for very long.”

The guy just kept…looking at him. Jay frowned, tilting his head and moving cautiously into the elevator. He swiped his keycard just like he had before, but took a quick glance at the overlay to see what floor the other man was going to.

Floor 1.

Holy shit, who was he in the elevator with?!

Jay snuck glances at him, trying to size him up. His shaggy black hair was strangely familiar, as was the hulking frame that Jay could tell was squeezing into the black suit by the slimmest of margins. He didn’t look like any person Jay had ever seen since he had been in the Administration, and while he definitely didn’t know the thousands of employees personally, he prided himself on being able to usually tell what department everybody was from. But this guy was a complete mystery.

Well, it was as good of a time as any to make some conversation. “Hey, are you new around here by any chance?”

“Huh?” the man blurted, and the two stared at each other. Finally, it clicked with the guy that Jay had asked him a question. “Oh. Y-Yeah, you could say that.”

Maybe he was just shy; Jay knew the feeling. He tried for a warm smile, one without all of the fake corporate bullshit he had been forced to live and breathe for the past five years. “Welcome to the company. What department are you in?”

“Uh,” the guy scratched at his temple, “security?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Jay had been trying for a joke, but the man only looked more spooked. Way to go, Jay. ���I didn’t think security normally wore suits like that.”

“I had my interview today,” the guy said calmly, seeming to have finally found his footing. “So here’s to hoping I get the job. It’s crazy out there, so gotta get anything you can get, right?”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Jay chuckled. He had become an expert in navigating topics that he knew absolutely nothing about; how do you think he managed to worm his way into accounting?

Quiet settled over them, only the low hum of the elevator reaching Jay’s ears. The other man cleared his throat, and Jay pretended to not notice the glances being sent his way. “Where do you work?”

“I’m in accounting,” Jay explained sheepishly. He hoped that the guy hadn’t done the research and found out that he was the only guy in the entire accounting department.

“Accounting?!” he asked, and for some reason he sounded distressed at the idea. Jay was quick to reassure him that he hadn’t cost the company (too) much money in mistakes, something everyone else had found hilarious when he told it at work functions, but the guy kept looking at him with bug eyes, as if the notion of Jay working with numbers terrified him.

Maybe he just didn’t like math. Jay couldn’t say that he liked it very much either.

The elevator dinged; they had reached Jay’s floor. Jay paused when he went to step out, turning back and taking a final look at the man. “Hey, what’s your name?”

He startled, before putting on a small smile that tugged at the corners of Jay’s faintest memories. “It’s Cole.”

“Cole?” Why did that sound so familiar to him? Where had he heard that name before? “Well, I hope you get the job, Cole. You seem like a nice guy.”

Jay waited until the elevator door was closing, watching. Cole shifted his view to keep his eyes locked with Jay for as long as he could, and Jay only barely caught what the man whispered before the doors slid shut with a quiet hiss.

“You too, Jay.”

How did Cole know his name?

Baffled, Jay started making his way back to his office, trying to put the stranger out of his mind. He had work he needed to get done, he didn’t have time for this. Greeting their usual security guard named Luke, Jay swiped his keycard and entered the accounting room, quickly sitting down in his designated cubicle before Shitty Sharon could see that he was back and put him to work. Except he never stopped thinking about the familiar man with the shaggy black hair, something niggling in the back of his brain telling him that the image of Cole in a suit was wrong, that the black ninja should’ve been wearing something else-

A sharp pain shot through his head, making Jay grit his teeth and raise a hand to his temple. He saw an image of Cole in some sort of free-flowing black uniform for only a second before it went away. Pain gone, Jay looked down at his hand as he lowered it, glancing over the scars criss-crossing it like he had a thousand times before.

Cole had similar scars on his own hands, Jay realized as he looked back in his memories.

Sighing, Jay resigned himself to yet another day of getting no work done. Grabbing a fresh sheet of paper and his well-worn pencil, he began to draw.

Never before had he been so glad to make it back to his apartment.

Jay was quick to dump his jacket in its usual spot next to the door, uncaring for the small coat rack that the apartment had come furnished with. Right now, he had placed it strategically over a spot where he had scratched up the hardwood trying to move his new coffee table in, and he knew that if he moved the coat rack now he would not remember to put it back before he had inspection. Usually the briefcase would’ve gone with the jacket on the floor, but instead Jay kept it with him, making an immediate beeline for his desk against the opposite wall.

His apartment really wasn’t much. Just one bedroom and bathroom, a small living room and kitchenette, but Jay hadn’t ever needed a whole lot. Growing up in a junkyard trailer had taught him everything about making a lot out of a little. The desk was by far his most used object, often taking home with him even after he left the office. You never really left that corporate mindset once you settled in, even though Jay had never truly fit the mold.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his curly locks. “I was supposed to go to the grocery store.”

Oh well, he had bigger problems to attend to.

Papers spilled out of his briefcase when he overturned it above his desk, and Jay was quick to toss it aside in favor of organizing the drawings so they weren’t overlapping each other. That presentation was going to be the most rushed thing he had ever done in his life, but it wasn’t important right now.

Right now, he had to figure out who the hell Cole was.

“Who are you?” Jay asked out loud, poring over everything he had spent the past few hours drawing. He quickly flipped the switch on his sidelamp, the sun having gone down long ago, leaving his apartment crawling in familiar shadows that made Jay’s skin crawl for a reason that he couldn’t say. Whenever Jay had to describe his home in the dark, the first words that came to mind were a ship’s brig; he always dreaded thinking about ships in the dark.

There was the one drawing of Cole in the black uniform, something that Jay had learned was called a gi in the multitude of research he had done on his work computer. The gi had triggered something else in Jay’s memory, a flash of bright blue and a harness. Something that he was very familiar with.

Leaving the desk and walking into his bedroom, Jay ignored the unmade bed and the clothes left all over the floor in favor of going to his small wardrobe. On the top sat an innocent looking cardboard box; anybody wouldn’t have thought for more than two seconds about it.

But Jay knew how important the box was.

With shaking hands, he grabbed it and carried it back out to the desk, setting it down with the utmost care. Slowly, almost reverently, Jay opened the top and glanced at the contents within.

A bright blue suit covered in burns and homemade stitches in a pattern he couldn’t recognize. A differently styled gi to the one he had seen Cole in, but Jay was positive that was what it was. It was what he was wearing when he had been rescued by the Administration agents.

“Who are you, Cole?” he repeated, feeling the fabric between his fingers. “Who was I?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t think he would ever know until today.

“Did I know you?” Jay muttered, looking at another one of the drawings. It depicted a raging storm of pitch black clouds that had cost him an entire pen to color, swirling and spiraling. Cole was falling straight into it, and Jay felt pure terror shoot dowm his spine when he saw the finished piece. He had almost felt possessed when he had drawn it.

Jay set the two drawings aside, picking up another one that appeared to be a large arena. Cole was there again, looking agitated as he faced Jay, earth responding to his beck and call and bending to his whim. To Jay’s astonishment, there was electricity sparking from his hands, bolts bigger than anything he had tried to summon since he had been hired by the Administration.

Could he really do that? Summon lightning?

Pain stabbed him in the temple, forcing Jay to clutch the crummy chair to keep himself upright against the intensity of it. He was standing on a ship; it was storming, the rain pelting his skin. Someone was talking to him, giving him an order. A lightning bolt shot out of the sky, and Jay felt like he was looking through someone else’s eyes as the bolt deflected off of his hand and zipped right past the ship.

Jay turned around, suddenly exhausted. “You’re welcome!”

Only to watch in horror as some sort of flying monstrosity soared out of the sky, firing off large missiles straight at the ship. Jay did not think that he could deflect those.

The missiles struck the sails, and Jay could feel both of his hearts plummeting. “There!” Cole yelled, and Jay quickly whipped his head around to get a better look at the man. It was definitely the same guy from the elevator, just younger.

“Can’t see a thing in this storm,” Lloyd said angrily, and Jay was suddenly flung from the memory, landing back in his apartment and falling straight to the floor. He was shaking.

Lloyd?

“Need to draw,” Jay said, and he kept saying it as he forced his chair upright. “Need to draw, need to draw, need to draw…”

Grabbing a pencil and the back of the picture with the arena, Jay got to work. He completely forgot about the trip to the nighttime store on floor 166; he didn’t need breakfast in the morning.

Skipping breakfast was a mistake.

And so was staying up all night.

But Jay had a new mission: stop by the office supply store on floor 140 (he had to check the directory that every new employee was given) and get a corkboard and red yarn. And more paper. Probably some more pencils too, Shitty Sharon was always stingy with how many they could take home.

Not that Jay gave a damn about what she thought, but he did give a damn for his mental health and hygiene.

It finally hit him when he stepped out of the elevator, large mug of coffee in hand, that he had an intern to start training today. An intern that his entire livelihood rested on.

“Fucking hell, Jay,” he muttered, wanting to scrub a hand down his face, except both of them were occupied. “Could you have picked any better time to become a conspiracy theorist?”

Or to walk around carrying incriminating cargo. In an effort to help him remember all of the tasks he had to do today, Jay had written them down on a list carefully hidden in his briefcase, consisting of the following three iteams:

1. Figure out who Cole was, whether or not he had been hired, and where he was last seen in the building

2. Research as much as he could about anyone named Lloyd in the Administration database. Surely they had to have something, right?

3. Stop by the office supply store and pick up the items, and GET CEREAL FROM THE GROCERY STORE!

He had underlined number three four times for emphasis. His boss would be proud of his efforts.

Unfortunately, the universe was not on his side this morning, as the first thing to greet him when he opened the door to the accounting department was a screaming match. Shitty Sharon was red in the face (normal) with her two guarddogs Cutthroat Caren with a C and Bitchy Bethany. Normally, Jay would’ve seen the trio and high-tailed it straight to the men’s room for the next half-hour with the excuse of having bowel problems, but he paused. The three women were picking on some girl he had never seen before; was she the new intern?

“I told you, you have to check the printer before you do anything with it!” the new girl was yelling, and oh my God they were arguing about the printer. Jay had to intervene before this girl lost her head.

“And I told you, girl, that’s not my job! That is the office boy’s job!” Sharon shouted, and her two lackeys nodded behind her back. Typical.

“Ladies!” Jay said loudly before the new girl could interrupt, and all four of them whipped their heads in his direction. The younger girl’s pink hair swished in its ponytail, her face furrowing into one of confusion. “Please, is there any need for this? Sharon, you already know I am your number one printer fixer-upper.”

“Who are you?” she asked bluntly, and Jay chuckled nervously. Her gaze was piercing, her face adorned with markings that Jay vaguely recognized as Imperian.

Imperium?!

Jay was fucked. Royally fucked. He was so fucking hooped.

Sharon looked smug as a bug in a rug. “That is our office boy. Now, run along and go back to whatever kiddie department you came from. I heard they had plenty of room in the daycare on floor 128!”

Gritting her teeth, the pink-haired girl looked furious at the loud cackling of Caren and Bethany, and Jay was quick to snag her sleeve and start dragging her towards his cubicle. “It’s not worth it,” he hissed to her, and to his relief she stopped struggling against his grip and allowed him to lead her away.

His cubicle was not big by any means, and Jay was quick to grab one of the spare rolling chairs on his way and push it with his foot. Setting her down in it, Jay plopped himself down in his actual chair, looking at her with a strange look as she seemed to pick him apart like he was a machine with her gaze.

So he was going to have to break the ice. “I know, they’re pretty bitchy, huh?”

Raising her eyebrow, the girl looked surprised. “Aren’t they your coworkers?”

“Sadly, yes,” Jay said with a roll of his eyes, “but that does not mean I have to be nice. I got over that years ago. Besides, you can't always pick the people you’re surrounded by, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” she leaned back in the chair, “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know somebody named Jay Walker around here? I was supposed to meet him here in accounting, but it looks like it’s just girls? Not that there’s any problem with that, of course, it’s just-”

“I’m Jay Walker,” he chuckled at the girl’s relieved expression. “No worries, kiddo. I’m the only guy in the department, so it’d be pretty easy to find me. I’m guessing you’re my new intern?” A nod. “Great, nice to meet you! What’s your name?”

“Sora,” she said with a small smile. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Walker.”

Jay had a feeling he was going to like this kid.

[sweetescapeartist]

HOW NETWORKING IN THE DB FANDOM IS USED AGAINST EARTHLING FANS

Warning, this is a long post & will probably upset some Saiyan fans. But this is meant for Earthling fans. So...yeah.

Networking.

That's how they do it.

Ppl want Vegeta to cuck Krillin? Network with ppl who have Roshi cuck Krillin. They use their influence to convince others to do what they like. You want to be part of their group and become more popular? Well, you better draw or voice or write or animate stuff they like. This way they can say "Look what this person did for me. Support them." Then they say to that person "Can you do more of that for me? I'll make sure to get your name out there more."

When ppl network, they often make others feel like they owe them "favors." But they don't always do so when they also have common goals. If they dont have common goals as the ones in positions of power, then they better get in line.

Why do you think a lot of these big DB YouTubers, certain artists, certain voice actors, ect know each other? And why do you think they all have similar ideals? Saiyan this, Saiyan that, make fun of Krillin & Yamcha and downplay anything they do, overhype Saiyans, ect. Ppl who don't do those things, they grow their audience at a slower rate OR they are prevented from growing by the influence of ppl who support Earthling hatred.

The fans of Goku, Vegeta, Gohan, or other Saiyans who want to cuck the Earthlings all do networking. This is part of the obsession with Saiyan males x female characters.

(Personally I view that obsession as the same as the obsession of woman being "blacked" or "bleached" or whatever. The Saiyan obsession is race based and with a superiority complex. So when I see posts like the one linked below... Its literally the same as having Saiyan males with all the women because fans present this idea that Saiyans are superior.)

(Replace "black guy" {or a guy of any race} with "Saiyan." When its a Saiyan, its acceptable. If its not a Saiyan, its bad despite both being nearly identical ideas. Ironic. Don't ppl realize that many Saiyan fans use Saiyans the exact same way? They view themselves as Saiyans and hate Earthling men but desire their women. Its the same as "This race is superior and will humiliate the men of this race and take their women." except now they use a fictional alien race instead of real world races.)

MY RESOLVE

I know some about networking because I've worked in the business. I don't like those kinds of jobs, but I have knowledge of how they work. (I'm sure some of y'all have a better understanding of networking than I do.)

If I wanted to (but I have no desire to do so), I could draw 18 x anyone but Krillin or 18 x Saiyans & grow quickly. Then once I'm big, promote Krillin & K18. But that's foolish. I'd be "cut off" in a way. If I'm no longer producing what the big influencers want me to, then I have lost their support as well as the support of their fans who only like me because of my association with the influencers. Then my most popular art would consist of things that I dislike but drew for clout or money. And cause I understand how networking functions, I wont compromise myself just to gain popularity. I'll take the slow route & make it so that ppl either end up enjoying what I do, or make it impossible for them to ignore it.

WE NEED TO NETWORK MORE

Negative networking has made most of the fandom trash on K18. Big influencers promote Krillin being a cuck or 18 leaving him to be with anyone. And like brainless sheep, many in the fandom follow the "popular" ppl. And then when you try to find art of Krillin with 18, most of it is of him getting cucked or it's art where 18 is not with him at all. They make it so you cannot ignore it. Use that tactic against them. We've had to fight against it for years & have come to understand how it works. Flip that on those ppl who have never battled against that strategy, & they will not know what to do. Besides lie & claim victim as they always do. If not that, they try to silence you in multiple ways. But they do that all the time.

There's a reason why my twitter is permanently stuck on "marked as sensitive." I posted facts about Vegeta's flaws when he was evil, then got a bunch of angry Vegeta stans coming my way, then suddenly I'm permanently on "marked as sensitive." And after that, the angry Vegeta stans don't come around as much. A very odd coincidence. But I've seen crazy Vegeta stans threaten to report YouTubers for making videos that made fun of something Vegeta did. Even saw them threaten to report when a YouTuber simply criticized Vegeta when he was evil. This is how they try to silence ppl who they view as a threat. (Twitter won't help me with this either.)

An illustration;

Because most of the population is right-handed, a left-handed swordsman trains to fight battles against right-handed ppl. But how often do right-handed ppl train to combat left-handed people? Never. And when right-handed people face a left-handed swordsman, they are at a disadvantage despite being the majority.

Those "left-handed swordsmen" are the fans of the Earthlings who endure lies & hate all the time. We know how to fight the "right-handed" majority. Been doing so for years. But we've been doing so separately. But if we were to network amongst ourselves? We can change how the fandom views our favorite characters quicker than we may believe. We have to gather & network. Sure we can take on a bunch of hateful liars without help, but think about a group of "left-handed swordsmen." If 1 of us can take on 100, then 100+ of us can take on 10,000+. Being the underdogs makes us stronger.

We can deal with more than they can because they don't have to fight daily lies & hate.

We can reason better than they can because they have no pressure to be accurate.

But they want us divided so that never happens. They want us to fight amongst each other so that their fight against us can be easy.

Of course there would still be debates between us about which Earthling fighter is the strongest (its Krillin btw 😝) but we dont let that divide us in our goal. Do Saiyan fans let it divide them when they argue if Goku, Vegeta, or Gohan are the strongest? No. Many are still very much united against the Earthlings. We need to be the same, but present logic and rationale instead of lies.

Ppl will tell you as the have told me "Why dont you just stop talking about Saiyans or Vegeta and just do your Krillin stuff? I hope you lose everything!" The reality is that they are fearful. Because we speak truth and facts about the characters while they build fanbases around lies. We can easily tear down the lies they built. They want us to be peaceful while their side keeps attacking without mercy. Only a fool remains peaceful.

But if you are a K18 fan, Krillin fan, Yamcha fan, or Earthling fan who doesnt want to meet their "sword" with another "sword" and would rather use a "shield" then, that is fine. Your positivity without combat is also required. What good is a soldier if they do not have ppl to equip them? To help them strategize, to build defenses, to give them knowledge & intel, to motivate them. Not everyone has to fight or lead publicly. Some can lead behind the scenes and fight by continuing to post positivity about the Earthlings.

My only regret in "going to war" against Earthling haters is that it may ruin some friendships I have with friends who love the Saiyans but wish the Earthlings nothing wrong. But fans of Earthlings and fans of Saiyans are not on the same playing field. And until we make it so that were are on the same playing field, some friends will be lost if they refuse to understand logic & reasoning. But if a Saiyan fan understands you? They are a reasonable person but will be considered a "traitor" by the Saiyan stans. They must make their decision. You must make your decision.

I've made my decision, and I still have some of my friends who Saiyan fans. I lost one in particular who claimed they were tired of seeing Krillin in hentai all the time. They said that they did not like Krillin x DB ladies, only if Krillin was with 18. But oddly enough, they enjoyed art of Saiyan characters x 18 and other women. I made sure the friendship ended peacefully, but it ended nonetheless. They had some sort of misinformed bias against Krillin. I dont know where exactly it came from, but I've spoken with popular & influential ppl who inaccurately & purposefully claim that there is more hentai of Krillin with DB women than Saiyan characters & that 18 is not the most used female in DB hentai. Those ppl play victim and poison the minds of others with their lies and use their position of "power" to do so. I've fact checked them and all they can do is deflect because they know they are lying. But their lies have already influenced many.

WHAT WE CAN DO...

I have a lot of ideas, so I'll be reaching out to certain artists I respect to get comms done. I can't draw it all myself 'cause I dont have near enough time. I'm also turning my comic ideas into fics that I can draw later.

But what can we do as a community?

Build a respect for your fellow Earthling fan before you build a trust. Trust without respect can be easily broken. If a fellow Earthling fan doesn't make themself deserving of respect, then leave them be.

Come up with ideas together (as some have reached out to me & I with some of them). This strengthens the respect and trust.

Work together with other Earthling fans who will help make those ideas a reality.

Help promote each other's fics, art, blogs, videos, ect. (Best way to get me to help promote something you've done, then DM something you want me to reblog.) (I'll try to do better in this regard to promote others.)

Give each other corrective criticism when needed and realize that not all cristicism is bad. But if you personally find no use for parts of the criticism, disregard it and continue on.

When an artist cucks Krillin or Yamcha, they will claim to like Krillin or Yamcha in order to protect their butts. But, try flipping their false logic on them and say "You like (insert Saiyan characters here) too. Now cuck them in your next one like you did with Krillin/Yamcha." And keep doing so often. They will either try to find a way out with excuses, refuse, or give in and do it. Then we just keep pressuring them to do so more often. They are weak to pressure if enough is applied. Pressure to be popular is one reason why they cuck Krillin & Yamcha. We just need to do so in our favor. If they like Gohan or Vegeta like how they like Krillin or Yamcha, then why dont they draw the Saiyans getting cucked? Why don't we just apply a little pressure and see what happens? 😉😈

Have each other's backs in disputs if possible, but try to remain more composed than your opponent. But if a Saiyan fan is too ignorant and too stubborn to believe reality, dont waste your time & just leave. No reason to prove your point to someone who denies truth. They are a waste of your time and energy. Let your "opponent" stay wrong sometimes. Most of the time they just want to fuss. A correct person doesn't need to argue if they've made their point clear.

Make sure that you understand the Earthling characters as well as the Saiyan characters. You must know your "enemy" to defeat them. (Which is why I have informative posts about Saiyans on my blog instead of only Earthling information. Knowledge is power.)

My personal addition is our alliance of Earthling fans would exclude Roshi & Oolong fans. And even certain Mr. Satan fans.

I use actual character traits to make my comics and art believable to combat the hatred towards Krillin. They base their cuck/NTR stuff on lies. If we make any stuff where the Earthlings cuck/NTR the Saiyans, then we base it in truth. Lies attract eisier, but truth is undeniable.

Sidenote; Aint it crazy how Saiyan fans will work hand-in-hand with certain Earthling fans who make content of Roshi, Oolong, or Mr. Satan cucking Krillin & Yamcha? (But more often its Krillin.) This is a clever tactic. How so? They promote the idea that Saiyans are stronger and superior while working with people who promote that extremely weaker characters both cuck Krillin & Yamcha. They have managed to weaponize Earthlings against Earthlings for their own gain. They mind little if it effects their favorite Saiyan character so long as it greatly & continuously damages the reputation of certain Earthling characters. (Its a "Do more art of Krillin & Yamcha getting cucked by Roshi & Oolong instead of Goku & Vegeta. Or better yet, since we're friends now, do more art of Saiyans cucking Krillin & Yamcha. You'll have my support and the support of my fans.")

Because of this, I plan to exact some sort of justice through indisputable facts. Examples being that Roshi is an extremely elderly man who likes getting beaten up by weaker women & watching women he's attracted to be with other guys; (a masochist cuck with E.D.). Oolong would rather peep instead of engage, & the girls he kidnapped made him their servant; (a submissive cuck). Mr. Satan is a coward who is easily turned into a "bitch" by anyone slightly stronger than him and will do whatever they say as he quickly became Majin Buu's servant without even being threatened; (can also be described as a submissive cuck). The battle-addicted Saiyans are built for battle instead of pleasure (small penis size like the primates they're based off of) and prefer combat over family as they gain pleasure from fighting & will leave their wives alone for a loooong time; (NTR anyone?).

°Twitter link that explains more of my thoughts.° 👇

EVENTUAL DISCORD SERVER

I do plan on making a Discord server. That way us like-minded individuals can converse and work together. But one of the rules would be to have some sort of respect for each other. Aint gotta always agree, but if we respect each other, we can still get along and build towards our goals. Keep it as civil as possible amongst ourselves. Many Saiyan fans want us to fight amongst ourselves to make their job easier. Dont give them what they want. And I'm sure some of us in the server will hate Saiyans while others will like them but are tired of them being worshiped because of lies and other dumb reasons. I may have to make a specific channel for ppl who want to vent about Saiyans. We'll figure it out as we go. All in due time.

Also gotta think of a cool name for the server that represents the Earthlings. "Earth's..." Idk. "Defenders of Mankind." Too much? "Earthling Defenders." Maybe? "Earth's Genki Dama." Might be better.... Kinda creativity bankrupt at the moment 😅

[gludgenbell]

Tell us about your your day! Did anything interesting happen?(answer by the end of the day)

04 12 2023;

I missed the bus for school so my sister dropped me and my brother off

My classes are biology, graphic design tech 2, participation in democracy and algebra 2-

So I started the day with biology and learned about the systems in the body; in depth

But it was a short day today so class was not an 95 minutes and I spent 6 minutes getting to my second period because it's at the back of the school

And all biology classes are at the front

I made my shirt yesterday for the shop my class is doing this Friday, and today was a crunch day

We finished more pre-orders, did keychains, more shirts, and stickers especially

I did some promotional video editing on the side

By lunch I was very hungry, was the first one in the cafeteria as usual and went to the wrong meetup spot (where my friends hang out)

Got a bit insecure that I'm always the last person to find out specific things even though I try to ask everyday, but it's whatever and we talked about a guy who didn't like women taking birth control

Because she'll piss it out and it'll end up in the tap water and then everyone will be drinking birth control

And we came to the conclusion that he just wants to be a dad so badly ✊️

Anyways

3rd period was fun, we're writing our own constitution and my friends and I are my teacher's prized group because we always make the projects fun

And now we're collaborating on a for fun storyline about a night school for Knights (because we had to design a school and we came up with: Knight of Bell; the Night School for Knights [18:00-00:00])

Anyways there's this chill guy Kjell who's always in my group and I'm just mentioning him because he's nice

Was late to my 4th, as always, today because I had to piss

Class went surprisingly well, I drew as per usual and worked on requests for my table mates because I mention commissions and they tell me no so a sketched easy request it is

Took the bus home and talked with another friend (she lives in my community) about the night school for Knights and the rival character

My sister picked me up from the bus stop, the dogs in tow, and we went around getting gummies and catching pokemon

I did some more writing for my story spirits of eden and then discussed with my mom possible shirt designs for our upcoming fundraiser (I'm going to Utah for our next next game maybe and since I'm already doing shirt work my parents think it'd be nice to use my art)

(In general also, if I want a shirt design my dad said he'd help me get what I need together)

Then I got nervous because all my art is sketchbook art and no real digital ones at the moment and I'd like to show actual art like everyone wants and I don't have much at the moment...

I asked my younger sister to help me with Mt laundry, then started a sketch of rukkadehvata (hope I spelt it right) and scheduled it for sometime saturday I think?

Around 7ish I started fixing my room; just putting my clothes away

All my siblings and both my parents were home so we gathered and decided to play fnaf 1 (we don't do this extremely often; it's always a treat when we get these nights together) and it was my turn at night 3

I didn't realize Freddy would move and my strategy did not account for him until I kept hearing his music and peeked at the stage

Only to find it

Completely empty

But I lived!

Freaking foxy jumped from phase 1 to 2 in under a second where I flipped the camera twice because I didn't get a good look the first time 😒😒😒

In between that I was playing sky with my wives, and the night will end with me in my room, drawing Rukka again

I did not call with one of my wives as I usually do; but all is well! Another time another time

I'll sleep in an hour

[shorkbrian]

Omg hi so I read your babysitter fic and I was thinking what if bakuogus tired of reader being a brat with him so he brings Kiri over to help him out 🤤 srry im just being horny on anon rn

“C’mon princess, move your ass before I move it for you.”

You huffed at the blonde, opening the car door, stepping outside and slamming it shut. Bakugou shot you a harsh glare, but you weren’t looking at him, instead crouching to tie your shoe.

He gave you a moment to do that, before the man got impatient, clicking his tongue, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Let’s go, it’s not like I have all fucking day.”

You knew for a fact that yes, he did have all day.

Your mom was away again, another business trip. She was working towards a promotion - a position that meant more hours, more work, more travel.

More time being spent with your stupid babysitter.

With your rapist.

He hadn’t touched you, not outright, since that day. Every time your mom suggested having him over for dinner, you conveniently found somewhere to be; out with friends, on a date, having a sleepover. Anything so that you didn’t have to look at Bakugou Katsuki’s stupid, smug little face.

But your mom had surprised you yesterday night, letting you know she’d be leaving in the morning, that Katsuki would be staying over again. There wasn’t any time for you to argue with her, to plead for her to stay, or to take you with her, or for you to stay at a friend’s house, anything but Katsuki.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to avoid him!” She had laughed, before wagging a finger at you. “Don’t be rude. He’s a nice man, and I trust him to keep you safe. He did last time!”

Yeah, and he also assaulted you last time, so maybe he wasn’t as nice of a guy as she thought.

He was taking you to the mall, not even really giving you a choice, just telling you to get dressed, that the two of you were going out.

Now here you were, trudging silently behind the older man, glaring at the ground.

“Bakubro! Over here!”

A loud shout drew your attention, Bakugou grinning as he started veering towards the shouter, a red-haired man waving enthusiastically. You followed behind him obediently, taking stock of this new man.

He was fucking huge, thick thighs bulging against his jeans, biceps straining against the fabric of his navy hoodie. This new guy was handsome too, a wide, sharp smile, soft red eyes, a clean-shaven face.

“’Sup Idiot? You tryin’ to attract the whole mall? Always so damn loud.” Even though he was complaining, it was clear that these two were friends as Bakugou let the other man pull him into a hug. They pounded each other on the back, before the redhead drew back, pushing past the blonde to give you his full attention. 

“Who’s this? Did you get a girlfriend? She looks a little young bro.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” You spat, and the redhead held up his hands in surrender as Bakugou shouldered him to the side.

“It’s the little fucker that I’m looking after as a favor. You know I work security for that office complex?” The redhead nodded. “Yeah, one of the milfs gave me free range of her house as long as I watch her.”

Both men looked at you, and the redhead smiled brightly.

“Ah, well, I’m Kirishima! Nice to meet you, sorry you have to put up with such a grumpy fucke-”

“Hey, shaddup.” Bakugou elbowed him, but Kirishima was already extending a hand for you to shake, and you did so gladly. At least you weren’t the only one who thought Bakugou was a grumpy, stuck up mess.

“’Kay, now can we go? I’m starving’, wanna eat before we do anything else.”

Kirishima winked at you as he threw an arm around your shoulders, his other arm around Bakugou. “Food court? I think they have a pretty good selection here...”

-----

Kirishima was much more tolerable than Bakugou.

He was funny, cracking jokes and making you almost spit out the soda he had bought you, slipping you five dollars behind Bakugou’s back for you to get a drink.

The redhead sat next to you while the three of you ate, including you in the conversation whenever Bakugou seemed to forget about your existence.

As the three of you walked from store-to-store, Kirishima listened to you ramble on about the latest game you’d bought, what you thought of your favorite snack brand trying to collaborate with a fashion company, all your opinions on the music playing faintly through the mall speakers.

It was fun when he grabbed your hand, tugging you away from Bakugou and along with the redhead as he ducked into a random store. It was some street-wear fashion place, and Kirishima wanted your thoughts on if a shirt was his color, or if he could pull off one of the hats that adorned the mannequin in the store window.

The two of you were busy laughing at how the hat couldn’t even press past his spiky hairstyle when you noticed Bakugou, glowering at you both from the outside of the store, lips pulled into the deepest frown.

Kirishima started laughing at the man’s expression, and you quickly followed suit, before Bakugou stalked inside, cuffing his friend on the ear.

What a spoil sport.

You couldn’t deny that by the end of the few hours you’d spent with Kirishima, you found yourself attracted to him. Not only in looks, but also in his goofy personality. You wouldn’t mind being friends with him.

It was easy to exchange numbers with the man, easy to let him lift your spirits.

And then it was time to leave, all three of you grouped at the entrance, saying bye, Bakugou and Kirishima giving each other another bro-hug.

You gave Kirishima a hug, leaning into his warm touch, enjoying his spicy cologne as you pressed your face against his broad chest. He eagerly returned the hug, until Bakugou was scoffing, pulling you out of his embrace.

“We’re in fucking public, you two, chill. Keep your pants on, sluts.”

Kirishima laughed, giving you a cheery wave as Bakugou gripped your hand until it hurt, dragging you out of the mall quickly.

-----

“Why are you being such a brat? You were fuckin’ fine earlier.” The blonde man grumbled, glancing over at you from where he was making dinner.

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your water. “It’s not my fault you have a stick up your ass. All I said is I don’t like when you make food, tastes bad.”

Bakugou huffed, turning off the stove. “Are you fucking serious? You’re just trying to mess with me, aren’t’cha princess?”

“Could you stop calling me that? I’m not your princess.”

“You’re whatever I want you to be, princess.” Bakugou sneered, stomping towards you.

You quickly backpedalled, setting your glass of water down on the counter, stepping back. “I’m going to go set the table!” Was your way out, and Bakugou backed off as you threw open a cupboard, rummaging for plates and cups as he chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, you do that.” 

It wasn’t long before the table was set, Bakugou bringing the food to set it down onto the hotplate in the middle.

Even just a whiff of the food had your eyes watering, the spice through the roof.

“Seriously dude? You know you’re cooking for two people, why the fuck did you make it inedible?!?” 

The blonde man glared at you as he sat down, jaw working, mouth twisting. “You gonna be a bitch-baby about it? Should be fuckin’ grateful that I even made you dinner.”

“Thanks for dinner.” You mumbled, staring tiredly at the food Bakugou was heaping onto his plate. You didn’t feel like eating anymore, his outburst ruining your mood, reminding you of the time when he got angry because you wouldn’t go to bed, wouldn’t listen to him-

“Eat the damn food.” Katsuki snapped, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

You did as he asked, even though it burned your mouth. Dinner was quickly gulped down, followed by desperate swigs of water as you tried to chase away the spice. Bakugou huffing the entire time at your inability to handle the level of spice he preferred.

Afterwards, you gathered up the plates and washed them, conscious of Katsuki hovering in the background of the kitchen, watching you work while he tapped away on his phone.

When the last dish was washed, dried, and put away, you began rummaging in the cupboards, looking for something sweet, something to soothe your tastebuds.

“What’re you doin’, didn’t I just feed you?”

Bakugou’s harsh voice made you flinch, but you kept your back to him. “Was hoping there’d be dessert.”

A long, irritated sigh, then a hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you away from the kitchen cupboards. “Ain’t got any of that shit in the house princess, you don’t need it.”

“But-” Your plead was interrupted by Bakugou rolling his eyes, snorting.

“Why are you being such a whiny baby? Is this cause Kiri was spoilin’ you earlier?”

Jutting your chin out, you glared up into red eyes as you turned around seething. “Maybe I like being treated like a person and not a problem. I don’t even understand why he’s friends with you - you’re mean and crass and stup-”

“So you’re just acting out cause you want some extra attention or some shit? What a brat.” The blonde sneered, leaning back against the counter as he tapped away at his phone again.

“You want Kiri so bad, fine. I’ll have him get you some shitty grocery-store dessert. Then maybe you’ll stop acting like a bitch. Stuff some candy in that mouth, will that keep you quiet, huh?”

It was infuriating, being treated like a child. Ignored, talked down to, unable to assert yourself or make decisions. 

“Whatever.” You huffed, shaking your head as you walked out of the kitchen. “Anything’s better than having to sit here with you.”

-----

The front door opening and the faint rustle of grocery bags caught your ear as you fumed on the couch, angrily questioning “why me?” as to your situation. But the noise meant your new friend was here, and he was much nicer than Bakugou.

Nice enough to have you smiling a bit as you rose to your feet, padding into the dining room as you beelined to the soft murmur of two manly voices.

“Heyyy! Long time no see!” The redhead was dressed in a loose tank top and basketball shorts, shoes discarded somewhere in the hall. 

You’d known he was muscular, but actually seeing his muscles without clothes in the way? You were stunned.

A bright blush encompassed your face when Bakugou snapped his fingers, narrowing his eyes at you. “Ay’, stupid! Focus! He got you a bunch of sweet shit. Rot your teeth out.” While gesturing to the two grocery bags resting on the dinner table.

“Hi Kirishima, thanks for the desserts-”

“Aw, it’s nothing. Bakubro wouldn’t tell me what kinda flavors you like so I kinda got a variety...”

Cupcakes and candy and various other sweet treats were nestled in the bags, and you grinned. “Dude, it’s all good. Wanna sit down and have some too?”

Bakugou snorted while Kiri smiled at you, nodding his head.  The dining chair creaked as his weight settled in it, the redhead pushing the grocery bags towards where you sat, encouraging you to pick anything you wanted.

The two men began to talk about this and that, mundane things about work, odd jobs, what their plans for the weekend were, boring stuff you easily tuned out as you indulged in sweet desserts.

Their attention turned to you when a whine slipped from your lips as frosting fell rom the cupcake you were eating and onto your shirt. Before you reached for a napkin, Kiri was leaning over, invading your space.

“You’re kinda messy, aren't you?” He breathed, a single finger swiping through the frosting on your shirt before the redhead sucked it into his mouth, looking at you through his eyelashes.

“Oh-u-uhm...” Was your elegant reply, tummy filled with butterflies at the fact that his finger had pressed against your skin through your shirt, right underneath your breast. 

He was so hot.

“Yeah, and a fuckin’ brat too. Little bitch can’t stop complaining about every little thing. Shut up the second I mentioned you were coming over.” Bakugou cackled, breaking the mood completely.

But Kirishima’s eyes were still on you as his now-clean finger slipped from his mouth. It was mesmerizing, watching the muscles in his arms shift and move as he leaned closer, slipping his hands underneath your shirt and raising the fabric so he could lick at the frosting still stuck on it.

Your breath stuttered, heat flaring suddenly in your tummy at the action.

And then Bakugou had to ruin it again. 

“You can fuck her if you want, I don’t mind. I told the old bird I would watch her kid for her. Didn’t say nothin’ about not getting her drunk on some cock.”

Eyes squeezing shut, you opened your mouth for some snappy reply, but Kirishima beat you to speaking.

“Yeah? Alright. You good with that baby?”

Wait, good with-?

Kirishima was looking up at you expectantly, fingers still clutched in your shirt, refusing to touch your skin. He was hot. This was hot. It’d be perfect if Bakugou wasn’t here.

“C’mon, just fuck her man, she’s been gaggin’ for your dick since she met you. Stop being a loser and man up.”

The redhead in front of you smiled, sharp teeth on display and gleaming. 

Then your shirt was being pulled over your head, hands gripping at your chest, thumbing over your nipples through your bra.

“W-wai-Kiri! Uhm, can’t we- uhm-”

Your voice was ignored, the redhead’s eyes glued to your chest as he pulled down your bra a bit, until he could palm each breast without anything in-between his warm hands and your soft skin.

“You’re so pretty...”

“She’s a whore.” Bakugou snarked.

Hands migrated to your waist, and you were easily lifted onto the table, Kirishima rising from his seat so he could push at your shoulders until they met the solid wood. Bakugou stayed seated, casually notching his hands behind his head and leaning back as he watched the show unfold before him.

Things were happening so fast, you didn’t know what to say, couldn’t move your hands to push away the broad redhead. This was so confusing. Yes, you wanted him, but you didn’t want Bakugou watching. You didn’t want to do this on the dining room table, didn’t like the quick turn the night had taken.

Your pants were being pulled down before you could organize your thoughts, before you could do much else aside from whimper and press your legs together.

“Hah, cute panties. You always wear stuff like this?” Kirishima asked, sliding a thumb underneath the elastic waistband only so he could snap it against your skin. You gasped at the little sting, unsure what to say, what to do.

“Most of her stuff is stupid girly shit like that, so yes.” 

You tried to throw a glare Bakugou’s way, but with the blonde somewhere behind you sitting at the table, you couldn’t turn your head far enough.

Especially not when you were distracted by Kirishima pushing down the waistband of his shorts. 

“I’m so glad I didn’t wear jeans.” He chuckled, holding his cock at the base as he sat back down again, scooting his chair up to edge of the table where your legs were splayed wide.

“Okay pretty, try and stay still for me. Make as much noise as you wanna, Bakugou and I don’t mind.” And then a warm mouth was pressed up against your cunt, licking at you over your panties, dragging the rough cotton against your most sensitive parts.

“Oh! o-oh, oh-oh-” Was all you could make your mouth manage as the redhead gripped your thighs in his giant hands, pushing them apart and allowing his massive shoulders to fit between them as he bent to lick at your pussy.

It felt... It felt so good, building up pressure in your stomach as your hole clenched around nothing.

Then Kiri did something awful, pulling your panties to the side and nosing into your folds with a pleased grunt. His skin was so warm, and you were so wet, and his nose started bumping against your clit as the man sloppily mouthed at you, and you couldn’t-couldn’t

“Stop-stop! ‘m gonna cum!” You wailed, legs twitching.

Immediately Kirishima drew back, soothing circles getting rubbed into your calves by thick fingers. “You don’t wanna cum in my mouth? Wanna cum on my cock instead? That’s cute.”

He stood up, and you barely got a glimpse of his dick bobbing against his stomach before he was leaning forward and catching your lips in a kiss. It almost scared you, sharp teeth poking menacingly against your lips, dragging across your skin as Kirishima moved his mouth against yours, but the redhead knew how to work with his teeth.

“Man, she really is a slut for you.” Bakugou piped up from behind you. He was a bit breathless, voice scratcher, but you couldn’t focus on that, not when Kirishima was pulling away with a groan, one of his hands fisting his cock.

The redhead gathered the spit in his mouth, leaned down, and let it drip onto your cunt, panties still pushed to the side. It was burning hot, adding to the fire in your tummy, blazing higher and higher.

Heavy breathing and labored panting filled the room as Kirishima edged closer to you, laying his cock flat against your entrance, playing with your panties as he did so until they pressed against his cock as it nestled between the lips of your cunt.

And then he started grinding.

Slow, delicious, absolutely heavenly.

You almost didn’t care about the disgusting little groans coming from Bakugou, the slick sounds of him fucking his fist, the creak of his chair behind you.

Almost.

Your attention was more focused on the pleasurable little zings going up your spine as Kiri rubbed his cock through your folds, all slick and wet. You kept your legs spread wide for him, barely able to breathe at the heat that seemed to fill the space, fill your lungs and steal your voice.

Kiri leaned down to kiss you again, and your hands fisted into his tank top, the material sweaty as it clung to his chest. If you could focus, you’d be trying to pull it off him, see the beautiful skin underneath, the man’s gorgeous body.

But what he was doing with his hips felt so good, you couldn’t even think.

“Kiri-Kiri, gonna-ohmygod-gonna-!”

And you came, shuddering as his cock kept fucking back and forth through your folds, twitching against your clit, veins in his dick pulsing and dragging against your skin.

He wasn’t stopping.

“Unhh, I came, please, wait Kirishima-”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to cum on my cock baby? I’m barely getting warmed up.” A feral smile gleamed bright from his lips. “I don’t play like Bakugou, I like messy girls. Gonna get you so fucked out you can’t even speak, can’t even walk. Won’t give him any trouble then, right? You’ll be good? For us?”

The look in his eye told you that you weren’t going to get a choice.

“Fuck Kiri, turn her over when you fuck her cunt so I can use her mouth.” Bakugou’s voice cut in, and your mood soured even more.

But Kirishima was already agreeing, cock still thrusting against your cunt. 

You didn’t get to make decisions anymore.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Interviews - Henry Cavill x wife/actress reader

Summary: You and Henry have been married for a couple years now, and when you’re both part of the Witcher cast, fun interviews are to be had.

Warning: nothing but a good time, btw I’ve never written anything like this so I hope it’s good enough that I might feel motivated to write more

-Readers Witcher character is loosely based off my Geralt fic from here (just a little self promotion), but in this case you play a full vampire in this Witcher universe

The days have been long and grueling, filming hours upon hours of stunts and regular acting had taken its toll. Not to mention the countless times in hair and make up paired with costume changes and traveling to film on certain locations.

To say being apart of Netflix’s The Witcher was full of tiring days and some accidental bruises would be a huge understatement. But none of that mattered, nor did you bother to complain when through the thick and thin of it all did you have Henry with you along the way. And your favorite big slobbery bear, Kal whenever he was allowed on set.

Fortunately for you in the beginning of all the craziness, the casting and writers had wanted you specifically for the part of Y/C/N in the new series before Henry even auditioned for the role of Geralt, that was soon given to him after you accepted your fresh role of vampiric heroine.

It was ironically strange in a good way, you had watched your dork of a husband play the Witcher: Wild Hunt a few times before, eventually learning of what Geralt of Rivia was, who Y/C/N was in the story, who Yennefer and Ciri were, Tris and even Jaskier.

Who would have thought that you’d finally get to snag a role side by side with Henry in quite literally one of the most fantastic shows you’ve ever heard of. You didn’t even need to see the show yet to know how well it was most likely to be reviewed. Being a key character in the grand storyline was enough to convince you of how amazing it would most certainly turn out in the finished product.

And after all was said and done, you couldn’t believe how well loved and popular the show truly became in the following months after shooting and its eventual release onto Netflix. The after parties and cast celebrations truly made you blessedly grateful for pulling through to the vary end.

Then again you had your mans Henry by your side every step of the way. He was your rock and you were most definitely his. You know life on set would have been far less entertaining and dreadfully long if not for the lovely company of your dear Witcher, Henry. And so far after the fact, you and a good portion of the cast have been placed in random interviews for the majority of the day.

Reason being, The Witcher has at long last finally premiered and as per usual the people and media live for those cast interviews that always reveal some interesting events. So far this morning you’ve done some interviews with Anya that have gone perfectly fine since the two of you seem to click so well.

Also it helps ease the anxiety of your fellow newer cast mates to the world of continuous interviews with an experienced veteran actor like yourself, who’s gone round the ring more times then you can count. Though you can’t help but wonder how Henry’s doing, considering you’ve been separated since the sessions began at 10am, you’ve had lunch and now it’s about 1 in the afternoon with more hours to go.

Luckily for you, you’ve just been informed of another interview with the man of the hour himself. Saying your goodbyes and well wishes to your fellow cast mates, you stand and follow the guide into the advised place. Aka some really nice hotel room that’s been done up real nice for efficient interviewing, complete with the Witcher insignia on a large background poster and three chairs that happen to look rather comfy.

The camera and sound people nod in acknowledgment as you walk in, you nod back no doubt making their day with your friendliness and adorable smile that quite literally lights up a room. Soon you spot the bubbly yet nervous interviewee who instantly welcomes you into her space like you’re an old friend.

You sit, a bit confused as to where your partner happens to be at the moment, the interviewer, Lauren makes small talk before a door opens and her big bright doe eyes go wide in nervous excitement. A telling smile upon her face as she shifts in her chair before looking back to you again with a happy grin.

Henry says a quick hello to the behind the scenes crew before waving to Lauren, you smirk while watching him get comfortable next to you, “Well, well, well. Get lost on your way up, you know they have guides for a reason.” You tease as he chuckles at your humorous jab, relieved to see you again after a couple hours apart.

“Traffic.” He quips with a shrug.

“Uh huh.” You mutter with a shake of your head before drawing your attention back to Laura, “Can’t take him anywhere I swear, he does this all the time.”

She laughs as Henry pretends to gasp at your teasing, you chuckle along with them before she finally collects herself, “Well, welcome back to London. It’s fantastic to have you both in town once again, and your big beautiful faces all over Leicester Square.”

You both laugh, “Right.” Says Henry, “I guess we do look pretty cool.”

“Hell yeah, I mean where else can I see myself with a giant sword on a building? And anyways look at this beautiful mug,” You say gently squeezing Henry’s cheeks in your hand, “he’s literally killing it out there.” They laugh as you give Hen another playful squeeze before letting go and setting your arm against the chairs cushioned armrest. 

“Alight let’s start.” She says enthusiastically before glancing down at her cards then back up to you and Henry. Then into one of the two the cameras, “Hi I’m Lauren from Entertainment Weekly and today we’re here with the two stars of Netflix’s The Witcher.” She says enthusiastically while giving a nod to you two, indicating that the camera is now focused on you both, “Henry Cavill and Y/N Cavill.”

You both smile in acknowledgment as Henry gives a slight nod, “How you doing?”

“I’m great,” She beams, “So, I’ll get right into it, what do you like most about the story? What really drew you into the script that made you say, yes this is going to be awesome?”

Slapping a hand against Henry’s muscular leg, you hum, “I’ll let Hen take this one he’s a real expert on the linguistics of the whole show.”

“Thanks Y/N/N.” Replies Henry, bemused that you’re making him take the first question.

You nod to him knowingly with a smirk, “Of course.” Knowing how much he loves to talk about the show and also because you’d rather have him use his energy to talk about it then do that yourself. Priorities, right, though in your defense it’s been a long day.

“Well I absolutely love the games and the books themselves are phenomenal works of literature.” He explains, his face glowing with that usual glimmer of excitement in his eyes, “The story and the world of the Witcher is just so rich and full of potential that when I signed on for the show, I immediately knew it would be amazing, no doubt.”

You lean into the arm of you chair, “And of course I was there so that’s always a bonus.”

“That too.” He smiles adorably, “That too of course.”

Lauren smiles, “Great. So, what was it like working together, how was it having your characters interact with one another?”

You smile, setting a hand against Henry’s forearm, “This guy right here.” You deadpan before waving him off dramatically, “So annoying, my god he whined all the time and he was such a drama queen dear lord so ugh....” You start cackling before you can even finish the sentence causing Henry to loose it as well and with that the interviewer.

Shaking your head you rest your hand against his shoulder, “I joke, he was a gem to work with as usual...I mean I feel incredibly blessed to be able to act alongside my husband for months and months every single day. It’s a rarity in this line of work and I’m grateful to have shared this experience...and I guess more so this whole adventure with him as well.”

The interviewer aww’s as Henry tilts his head to lean into your hand that’s still resting atop his shoulder before pulling away just as quickly, the intimate sentiment not going unnoticed by you or Lauren who looks to be enjoying your loving yet calm energy with one another. “That’s so sweet, what about you Henry?”

“Oh yes absolutely,” Agrees Henry to your recent statement, “not only did I have her by my side through it all but the dynamic of our characters interacting together was so fun to shoot. I think the audience will really be able to see their relationship grow on screen into something strong and beautiful like in the books.”

Slow clapping you give him a curt nod of approval, “Well said.”

Lauren smirks, “Seems like it. Well, I was able to catch the premier yesterday and I gotta say...it was fantastic! I couldn’t believe how diffident the two of you looked from how you are now.” She gushes enthusiastically.

The corners of Henry’s lips curl into a proud smile for the fellow crew of the Witcher’s, “Oh that’s great then, honestly we gotta give all the props to the costume and makeup team, they’re so talented and know how to make us look like real badasses.” He adds.

You nod in agreement before grinning at a positive memory of your first interaction with Henry as Geralt, “Oh for sure, I remember during the early stages of production when our characters met each other for the first time, before this we came to set together but went separate ways to shoot our own stuff in the meantime so I never got a real look at him.” You recall with a bright smile as Henry watches your every move, beaming just the same.

“It was so funny, I was in the tent with Freya Allen, the wonderful girl who plays Ciri, and then suddenly her eyes got all big and nervous and I was like, that’s not me right? Something weird didn’t just happen with my costume? And then I turned around to find this man, wig on, face a mess, and his eyes looked so fearsome and different...it was a bit startling.” You say with a chuckle, “I clearly wasn’t expecting to see Geralt right then and there. He just looked so unlike Henry.”

“Yeah, I was almost hurt.” Laughs Henry, “She had to like squint and make sure it was me.”

Rolling your eyes, you shrug, “He had some real creepy looking colored contacts, yunno?”

Henry fake scoffs, “You’re one to talk, I mean when I first say her, Y/N’s eyes were red and she had fake blood spattered all over her face and shirt. Oh, and not to mention those fangs they put on your teeth...we probably traumatized poor Freya that day.”

“Oh shit you’re right!” You exclaim with a snort of concealed laughter, “God I completely forgot about how I looked...now since I think about it, I did that a lot too. I would just walk up to people and be completely oblivious as to what kind of nightmare I looked like, honestly I might have scared one of our producers a couple of times.” You add with a half nervous laugh, it’s true, you did scare some of the crew unintentionally. Most of the time.

Lauren lightly chuckles, “That sounds like you were quite the sight to see then.” She says before glancing back down at her notes, “Alright I have’ta ask, is there anything that you two took home with you from set?”

“Besides Henry every night,” He holds back a laugh while covering his mouth as you nonchalantly continue, “Uh, yes actually I got to take home Y/C/N’s wolf ring that I loved so much and just thought was the coolist thing ever and....uh, I might have stolen some socks too.”

“So that’s why after filming the amount of socks of yours I had to fold increased?” Wonders Henry with a surprised snort of realization.

Turning your head to give him a “no shit” kinda look, you look back at Lauren, pointing your thumb at Henry, “Master sleuth right here, but hey, he folds my laundry.”

“Aw that’s great.” Adds Lauren with a smile before turning her attention to Henry, “What about you Henry? Take anything from set?”

“More then Y/N did actually...”

“He just about took the whole makeup trailer most nights, I swear.”

Henry chuckles, “That. Is true.” He agrees with a nod, “Interesting enough, at home I’ve got Geralt’s armor hung up in our living room and a multitude of other nicknacks that I’ve collected during filming.” He adds, glancing over to you, “So uh, yeah, we were fairly lucky to be able to snag what we could.”

Lauren smiles, absentmindedly shuffling her cards, “That’s awesome to have such special memorabilia, you guys really are fortunate.” She adds before reading off from another card, “Alright you two, care to play a game called guess the image? Witcher style.”

Your face perks up at this, you’re a sucker for interview games and Henry knows it, “Are you reading my mind or something, I have been waiting all day for someone to ask about playing a game.” You gush rather enthusiastically. 

He smiles at your adorableness and how excited you’ve just become, Lauren grins, happy that her suggestion has been so well received, “Okay so how it works is, I’ll show you an image on my iPad and then you have to guess who or what I’m showing you.”

“Oh, cool I’ve heard of this,” You reply, turning to Henry with a smirk, “Loser has to clean Kal’s yard poop for a week.”

Rolling his gorgeous blue eyes he chuckles, “You’re on.”

“Alright, the stakes are high, you two ready?” Beams Lauren, holding her iPad to her chest as she awaits an answer.

“Yes, I’m ready to kick his ass.” You quip, leaning an arm against your chair while Henry does about the same, though he does his best to contain his laughter.

“Okay, first image.” She holds up the device to show some sort of weird golden thing, it’s shiny and hard, worst part is that you’re not entirely sure what the hell it could be.

Sensing your confusion Henry nudges your shoulder, though you ignore it before he smartly answers, “Oh, is that...Renfri’s brooch?” Little shit knows exactly what that is, of course he does.

Lauren claps, “Correct.” Zooming out of the image to show the full picture of the golden brooch, “Right on, that’s one point for Mr. Cavill.”

You scoff playfully, “Beginners luck.” While Henry side eyes you with a humorous grin upon his plush lips, he nudges your arm, “I’m going to really enjoy not cleaning up Kal’s grass turds for awhile.” He mutters lightheartedly, though you know deep down he’s being serious, no way is he going to win this, you think. You won’t have it, hopefully the next few pictures aren’t as difficult, Kal duty is not fun by any means.

“Shut up.” You grumble with a dismissive wave of your hand, though just teasing of course.

“Okay next image.” This time the blurred photo looks much more familiar, soon it clicks as to what the obscured blurriness actually is, yes!

“Got it! Anya’s er I guess Yennefer’s dress from the fight at Sodden.” Lauren giggles, zooming the image out to reveal Yennefer in her tasseled blue and purple dress from the battle at Sodden Hill. “I’m amazing I know.” You boast at Henry with a casual little bow in your seat.

“It’s the second question.” He deadpans, eyes crinkling in amusement as you shake your head at him.

“Pffff get outta here.” You mutter back, gently pushing his arm off of your chairs armrest and setting yours in its place while he gives you a fake shocked expression.

In turn you can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips, so instead of saying some sassy remark that would no doubt get a reaction out of him, you turn your attention back over to Lauren who’s looking over her notes again.

“Fantastic,” She says, glancing back up at you and Henry, “you’re both tied with one point each. Alright, anyone know what this is?” She asks showing something red and fuzzy, a bit of dirty skin showing from one corner but with The Witcher this bloody image could literally be anything.

The both of you squint, puzzled as to what this could be, “Y/N you got any ideas.” Wonders Henry, brows furrowed as his face contorts into deep concentrated thought.

Raising a brow, you hum, “If I knew I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Fair point.” He chuckles.

Lauren smiles, “Any guesses?”

 After a few concentrated moments, Henry shrugs in defeat,  “I’m stumped.” He admits as you study the image harder, mind racing to put the pieces together as to what the hell you’re looking at.

“No, I think I might know this....erm is it...me?” You wonder, voice raising in question, hoping to be correct about this or face the teasing of Henry.

Lauren quickly zooms out of the obscured image, “It is!” She says excitedly, revealing the picture of you from your characters debut in episode 2 where you save a girl from a werewolf, your mouth is covered in blood and so is most of your costumes chest area and left arm from the struggle. Not to mention the make-up teams fun 20 minutes of throwing fake sticky blood all over you to get the right look for the taxing scene.

You grimace a bit, “Oh god that was quite the day on set,” You recall with a half smile, “I was doing stunts all day covered in that red syrupy dye, I think it took a week to get out of my skin.”

Henry suddenly snorts with laughter, “Right! That reminds me, I thought Kal had gotten cut or something, it was just Y/N who had hugged him not realizing she still had some fake blood on her arm.”

“Jeez that’s right, I felt so bad, but I couldn’t stop laughing once we realized it was just me.”

Lauren grins, excited to hear some hidden information about little things that happens behind the scenes, “Oh wow that must have been a sight, alright Henry, Y/N’s taken the lead with a two to one score.” She says as you playfully nudge his strong shoulder. “Second to last image, what is this?”

Without missing a single beat Henry replies, “Jaskier.”

Squinting at the image you lean closer to the iPad, “How the hell do you see Jaskier?”

Smiling the interviewer zooms out to reveal the bards full outfit from the banquet scene, though he’s in the background of a fight between Geralt and some Cintran knights. “Right on!” She exclaims as you lean back into your seat dumbfounded, shoulder flush against Henry’s as he clutches your arm and squeezes it affectionately.

Ignoring his silent show of victory you shrug, “And they say he’s just another pretty face,” Earning a laugh from Lauren and some of the crew as you smirk at the camera, face them shifting to apologetic, “also I’m so sorry Joey you beautiful bastard apparently I’m blind. Uh, we don’t have to dwell on it, Lauren whatcha got?”

“You guys are both tied with two points each, last chance to win.” She replies before glancing down at her iPad, “Alright, what is this?” She asks, her iPad showing that of fuzzy bright colors, with a small corner smear of dull white that clearly wouldn’t make much sense to the untrained eye.

Smirking you glance at a puzzled Henry before sitting up in your seat, feeling rather good about yourself, “Would that happen to be, Hen in Stregobor’s illusion?” You answer with, though sounding a bit as a question considering you aren’t entirely confident as to what image this is.

Lauren’s brows raise in surprise, “Henry, looks like we have a winner. Y/N you are correct.” She beams, enlarging the image to reveal Geralt’s side profile as he talks to the old wizard while the background stays colorful and shrouded in various arrays of sunlight..

Shaking your fist victoriously in the air you give a couple enthusiastic whoop whoops while Henry simply takes it like a champ, “Have fun cleaning up Karl’s monster turds, cause this lucky lady doesn’t have to.” You boast as Henry and the crew laugh.

“Well that was something,” Beams Lauren, “I’m so glad to have chatted for a bit about your guys’ amazing new series, and maybe ended a relationship in the process.” She says jokingly as both you and Henry chuckle.

Patting his thigh affectionately, you smirk, “He’s a tough old bear, but yeah, it was awesome having you talk to us.”

“Yes, take care now.” Adds Henry while the interviewer Lauren stands, saying her goodbyes as she goes to exit the room.

The camera crew take a small break to adjust things and whatnot as you and Henry wait patiently for the next interviewer. He turns, an adorable smile pulling at his lips while you pretend to ignore his fiery gaze. “Well that went pretty well, minus the fact that I’m on Kal poop duty for a week...but uh...” He leans in close to you now, “I missed you all morning.”

Breaking out into a smile you raise a brow, “Boring without me huh?”

“Always.”

You casually shrug, “I figured as much. Don’t worry, we have a hotel all to ourselves tonight.” Your brows wiggle suggestively causing your blue eyed lover to shake his head with amusement.

“Say it louder next time.” He jokes.

Side eyeing the oblivious crew you begin to speak a couple octaves louder, “Henry I can’t wait to fu..” Suddenly his hand presses against your mouth before you’re able to call any attention to yourself. He gives you a warning look before slowly pulling his hand from your mouth.

You grin mischievously, “I wasn’t gonna say that...”

“Sure Y/N,” He mutters in your ear as a new interviewer walks into the room and finds their chair, “and I’m wasn’t going to make you scream tonight.”

Your brows raise in surprise and admittedly slight arousal at his choice of wording in this room of all places. Eyeing him up, face still showing surprise, you finally break out into a satisfied smirk. “You know what? I think you should consider changing your offer.”

He thinks deeply for a moment, though you know he’s only pretending to get you riled up, “Hrmm...maybe, possibly, should I? Should we? You are my co-star after all, that wouldn’t be very professional now would it Y/N?” He states with a shit eating grin, all done while the crew and interviewer get ready, minding their business and completely unaware to yourself and Henry’s teasing.

Scoffing playfully you lightly swat his arm, “We are way past being professional.”

He chuckles, looking from you to the rest of the room, “Oh, they have no idea.”

[casifer-is-king]

Private Investigator

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x fem!reader

Rated: T

Warnings: some language, infidelity.

A/N: This is my first piece of writing in like five years.... I'm gonna warn everyone right now that this is probably not great hahaha. But it was impossible for me to get this idea out of my head and once I started writing it just kind of kept going.... And since it's all written out now, I might as well post it. So if you read this, thank you so very much 🥺💜 This is cross posted on AO3 under my username BlondiMarie.

You always gave your husband the benefit of the doubt. Even when all of your friends warned you about their suspicions. So, when it came down to you telling them you weren't going to confront him about anything without proof, they took it to heart and got planning.

That is how you found yourself in a crowded coffee shop during the lunch rush. Your two best friends, Ashley and Erin, sit across from you as you all wait for the Private Investigator that they had found who knows where. Supposedly, though, he was very qualified. And prompt, you noted, as the man you assumed was here to meet you walked up to your table three minutes before the appointed time.

"You must be my 12:30 meeting?" he asks."I'm Frankie Morales."

"It's nice to meet you," Ashley speaks up, then goes around introducing you all.

Frankie shakes hands with each of you before taking the empty seat next to you. In the crowded room, his chair is set close to your side and you can feel the heat of his body next to yours. He's definitely a cute guy you notice, in a rough, outdoorsy kind of way. His hair curls out from under a worn baseball cap and his facial hair is scruffy, but kept short with a patch along his jaw that doesn't seem to grow.

“So how can I help you ladies?” he asks.

“Well it's really for our friend here,” Erin states, gesturing to you. “It's her husband. We are pretty certain he's cheating on her.”

Frankie glances over at you. “Pretty certain, huh?” he asks as the waitress brings a cup of coffee over and places it in front of him. You find yourself suddenly distracted as he tears open two sugar packets with long, deft fingers, then picks up the spoon to stir it in.

Realizing that he's probably waiting for an answer, you feel yourself blush faintly. “They are pretty certain. I just want to be sure either way. I don't have any specific proof that he's cheating,” you say, finally tearing your eyes away from his hands. He's thoughtlessly twisting the spoon between his index finger and thumb. It's somehow entrancing, the way his fingers move.

“But he's definitely pretty shady,” Ashley steps in. “Suddenly he's working long hours at work, coming home late from the bars and claiming he's with his friends. Plus when is the last time he even took you out?”

The question is pointed at you, but you ignore it by looking into your tea cup instead. It had been months since the two of you had gone on a real date. It's something you both enjoyed a lot in the early years of your relationship - going out to a new restaurant every weekend and ordering three course meals just for the fun of it.

"Yeah, I see this shit all the time," he assures, saving you from having to answer. "If he's doing anything he shouldn't be, I'll find out."

Your friends and him discuss his rates and when payment is due before they rush off, both having to get back to work.

"Did you have to get going too?" Frankie asks you when it's just the two of you left at the table.

"Not yet," you reply.

"That's good." He ducks his head a little so you can't see his eyes anymore, "I was wondering if I could ask a few more questions. Like about your husband's schedule and where he likes to spend his time."

“Of course. He works at an architecture company downtown. It used to be a Monday through Friday, 8 to 5 type of job. But the past few months he's been working late, sometimes he's even going in on Saturdays. Says it's some big project and he's expecting a promotion by the end of it.”

Frankie takes note of your husband's workplace on one of the tiny napkins. When he sees that you're watching him, he ducks his eyes from view again. “Forgot my notebook,” he says sheepishly.

You crack a smile at his embarrassment, but don't say anything, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable. You continue on like nothing happened. “He goes out with his friends a lot, but he's always been that way. I stopped going with him a while ago. He said it brings their team spirit down when he always has to explain the game to me.”

“Not big into sports?” Frankie asks, and you can detect a bit of teasing in his tone.

“Not even a little bit,” you laugh openly.

Frankie makes a little bullet point on his napkin and writes, ‘X sports,’ on it. “Any specific places your husband goes to watch the games?”

“Usually Sally's, over on 7th street,” you provide.

“Yeah, I know it. They do the karaoke after the game,” Frankie states nonchalantly.

“Yes! That's why we agreed on that bar. I'm a sucker for bad karaoke,” you laugh.

“You should see my friend Pope after he gets a few drinks in him,” Frankie chuckled. “Man can't even sing when he's sober, let alone drunk off his ass.”

“Those are just the best performances, though,” you say with a smile.

“It's definitely something,” Frankie nods with a snort.

Your phone chimes an alarm, alerting you off your next meeting you need to get to. "I'm sorry, I actually do have to go now," you apologize, actually feeling sorry that you had to leave this conversation. Frankie is easy to talk to, and an attentive listener.

"Oh, right. Well maybe I could get your number? Ya know, just in case I have any other questions as I go?" Frankie asks quietly, dipping his head again and fiddling with his long-empty coffee cup.

"Of course!" You agree readily, taking his offered phone and adding your details into his contacts. "And thank you again for doing this. It may end up being nothing, but my friends are very overzealous."

"It's not a problem. Just doing my job. I'll let you know what I come up with either way," Frankie replies with a small smile.

As you walk out together, he holds the door open for you and your turn to him once you both come out onto the sidewalk. "Does it often end up ending well? For people you've looked into in the past..." you ask.

Frankie squints a little and his eyes show flecks of warm caramel in the sunshine. "Not often," he replies finally.

You nod, your heart dropping faintly. His honesty is appreciated though, so you grace him with a small smile. "Thank you again."

You don't hear from Frankie for the next few days, but you do think of him. Especially any time your husband does something that makes your gut do that little tug of dread.

It's five days later that you get a text.

Game night tonight. Did your husband happen to say if he was going out? Frankie asks.

You reply maybe a bit too quickly, of course he is. He's leaving here soon to meet up with the guys.

You feel a little less self conscious when it's barely a second later and Frankie is already typing back. Well let's hope that's where he'll actually be.

He'd never miss a game XD, you reply. Sports are like religion to those guys. So you get to just go to the bar and watch them watch the game? Sounds fun hah.

No one ever said it was a glamorous job, Frankie sends back. But it's always a perk when I can drink and watch some football while I'm at it.

You send back some laughing emojis, and set your phone down to heat up some dinner.

Your husband sweeps through the kitchen, grabbing his keys and jacket. “I'm meeting the guys now,” he says.

“Ok, have a good time,” you reply, turning to face him. He nods, pulling on a hat. “I love you.”

“You too,” he replies briskly, dropping a faint kiss on your forehead and walking out the door.

You sigh, plating your food and wandering back to the living room to watch something on TV while you ate.

Your phone flashes a notification and you look down to see Frankie had sent another text.

How have you been doing? He asks.

As well as can be expected, you text back.

Try not to stress too much. I'll let you know if I find anything out, he replies.

It makes you smile, even if you know there's no way you'll stop stressing at this point.

The weeks went by and texts from Frankie became more frequent. He'd ask a few questions about your husband, then branch off into asking about your day. Those conversations then opened up to you both telling stories about your jobs, which would lead to talking about other aspects of your life. You talked a lot about your pasts - he tells you about how he grew up, some funny and interesting stories from his time in Delta Force, and about his best friend's MMA fights.

You tell him about your family, tell him stories about all the ridiculous people you come across at your job, and do a lot of venting about your crumbling marriage and husband.

You feel bad every time you bring it up, but it's always so much easier to talk to Frankie than it is even Ashley and Erin. At least with him, each of your concerns weren't met with a look of pity and “I told you so,” retort.

The marriage has been spiraling for several months now, and maybe hiring a private investigator was the push you needed to really bring the issues to light. You noticed more often when your husband chose to spend nights out “with the guys” and when he'd go into the other room to check his phone. And when you finally point out the lack of time he spends with you anymore, he gets automatically defensive.

You felt alone in your relationship and it was starting to make you feel bitter. He was definitely hiding something, and you trusted that Frankie would find out for you.

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

Frankie had been working this job for a few weeks now. He'd worked a ton of infidelity investigations since he'd lost his pilot license and finally got clean. But this one was different. He wasn't sure what drew him to her, but he couldn't help but want to know her.

Was it professional to text your client every day asking her if Sally from the overnight shift left a pile of work behind for her to deal with for the fourth day in a row? Probably not. But that didn't stop him from trying to glean any little piece of information about her that he could.

He kept it friendly, though, trying not to cross farther from that line between client and something more. But she was a sweet woman, and she had seemed so quiet at that first meeting in the coffee shop. And sad. Like she didn't want to get caught up in the things her friends were saying, but somewhere deep down knew what they were saying was true.

And, dammit, Frankie always had a soft spot for sweet, sad women.

Which is why he is spending his seventh night in a row sitting in his car across the street from her husband's workplace. During their earlier conversation she had mentioned that her husband claimed he was working late tonight. But in the weeks that Frankie had been on this case, the man never worked late once.

Right on time, his target exited the building. He was not alone this time, though, having his arm around a brunette that Frankie recognized as one of his co-workers that he had gone to lunch with a couple times.

Frankie snapped a few pictures of them together, the target’s arm pulling the brunette closer than appropriate, in Frankie's opinion. They both got into his car and Frankie began to follow behind.

Just as they parked at some restaurant across town, Frankie's phone rings and Benny's name lights up the screen.

“Hey,” Frankie greets.

“Dude, where are you?” Benny asks, his voice pitched a bit higher than usual.

“I'm working,” Frankie replied, keeping a close watch as his target is sat conveniently at a window table.

“Come on, Fish, it's Friday night! Will and I are already at the bar drinking.”

Frankie checks the clock and scoffs a bit when he sees it's only 1830. “Sorry, Benny, but I have to work late tonight.”

“You make your own hours. Isn't that why you chose that damned job? So you can decide when you do and don't work. So just decide you can't work tonight and get your ass over here!” Benny all but whines. “What's the deal with this case, Fish? I thought it was a simple cheating husband. You're not usually so obsessive over these ones.”

And leave it to Benny to call him out on his abnormal behavior. “I'm gonna close this case tonight, I have a feeling. Sorry, brother, but I'll see you tomorrow afternoon for practice,” Frankie placates his best friend.

“Sure, ok man. See ya then,” Benny finally gives in.

It's another boring hour of staring at his target before they are finally on the move again. Back to what Frankie assumes is the brunette's house, where they both go inside and Frankie adjusts himself in his seat to find a comfy position for the foreseeable future.

It's another two hours later when the door finally opens and Frankie scrambles to get his camera up, keeping his head down. He hopes for a little luck and is rewarded when both parties enter the doorway and embrace with a final, passionate kiss.

Frankie's camera keeps clicking away, even as his anger continues to rise. He has to hold himself back from throwing himself out of the car and punching his target in the face. He wants to know why her husband would bother with another woman when he has her at home waiting. Wants to know why her husband would throw away everything he has with the sweet woman who was so trusting at the start of all this. But that would definitely be crossing a line, and Frankie has never felt the need to go that far before. So he reins himself and waits until the target has driven away and the brunette has closed the door behind her, before he drives home himself to develop the pictures and complete his paperwork.

Developing pictures at home can be time consuming, but Frankie usually finds comfort in the task. It's a hobby he took up to distract himself from his cravings, and the darkroom usually brings him comfort after particularly stressful days. Tonight, though, watching these images fade onto the photo paper, he is angry. He knows this news is going to crush her, regardless of her suspicions. And while this is usually the case with clients, Frankie isn't sure that he could handle it if you broke down in front of him as some women have in the past.

He's learned so much about her in the past few weeks, from her favorite color to her favorite song when she was 10, and all of these things have endeared her to him in a way no other person has before. And he's opened up to her in return; in a way he hasn't any other woman in his past. But she makes it easy.

It's late when Frankie has finished compiling the file, so he decides not to text her yet and strips down for bed and drifts off, hoping for at least a few hours of restful, dreamless sleep.

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

You got a text from Frankie late the next morning, hey, dulzura. What are your plans today?

Finally my day off lol, you text back.

Think you could pencil me into your busy schedule? Say in an hour?

Frankie had yet to schedule another meeting, opting to ask any questions he had between texts about their days. With a sinking feeling, you quickly type out, definitely. How about the same café as before?

Sounds good. I'll see you then.

You got ready with a sense of dread. You knew that this meant Frankie had found something. There was that small chance that he came up with nothing in these past few weeks, but the more realistic side of you knew how this would end.

The drive to the coffee shop was short, and the parking lot was thankfully much less crowded than last time. Walking in, you spotted Frankie right away at the same table by the windows. You placed your order before heading over to the table. He was stirring a cup of coffee again, but quickly turned his whole focus toward you as you sag across from him.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Frankie asked. “Your friends couldn't make it?”

“I'm good. It's nice to see you again,” you answered. “I actually didn't tell them. I kinda wanted to find out the truth privately. I'll tell them as soon as I've processed whatever you have to tell me. I'm assuming that's why you wanted to meet? You found what we were looking for?”

Frankie's hand moves to the back of his neck as he gives a slow nod. He pulls a yellow envelope from the chair next to him and places it on the table between you. “Yeah. I have some pictures here.”

You begin to reach out, but stop short before touching the folder. You know if you look now, in the middle of this café, you'll just break down when you see the proof of your husband's affair.

“Please just tell me,” you implore, eyes looking up, but not quite reaching his.

Frankie is quiet for a moment, studying you with his chocolate eyes. Finally he lets out a short sigh and responds, “Andrew's having an affair with a coworker. Looks like it's been around five months.”

The news hits you directly in the chest. It makes it hard to breathe. Knowing it was likely that he was cheating and having picture proof of it are two different things. You feel like it shouldn't hurt this much, but can't help the way your body collapses into itself.

“I know it's not the news you wanted,” Frankie starts, but you cut him off.

“No, but it's what I needed to know. So thank you. I appreciate all the work you put into it. I'm really sorry, but Ashley just went out of town and she won't be back for two weeks. I can get Erin's half of your fee, then get the rest as soon as Ash is back.” You quickly switch to the business end of the meeting, hoping to delay having to come to terms with this new information.

Frankie looks a little whiplashed at the sudden change in topic, but catches up quickly. “It's really not a big deal. I'm not too worried about two weeks. How about we just meet up again once you all have everything together. No stress.”

His hands are fiddling with his coffee cup again, and you focus on them as one index finger absently caresses the handle of the cup, the thumb of his other hand moving up and down the opposite side of it. You're caught off guard again by the movement of his fingers. It's sensual, how his large hands and long fingers massage the warm ceramic.

You're distracted from your observation of those hands when the barista sets your to-go tea in front of you. Finally looking up again, you see Frankie's brows have pinched together, forming a little worry line between them.

“I'll get it to you as soon as possible,” you finally fall back into conversation.

“That's fine. Really, don't stress about it,” Frankie reiterates.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask softly after a brief pause.

“Of course, hermosa.”

“Why did you become a private investigator?”

The question catches Frankie off guard for a second time; you can tell by the subtle widening of his eyes followed by a brief knitting of his brows. Then he quickly hides his eyes behind the bill of his baseball cap, feigning stirring his coffee a couple times. Not used to being able to see his face when the two of you have conversations, you realized he's actually quite expressive. He must know it too, because you note his hidden eyes as something you'd seen him do the first time you met him.

“You don't have to tell me,” you extended a way out for him, noting his sudden discomfort.

“No, it's fine. Um, remember when I told you before how I moved on from being a pilot to this?” At your nod, Frankie continued on slowly, like he was forming each word in his head twice before speaking it. “Well, it was less that I moved on and more that I lost my license. Uh, addiction issues. I know how that sounds! But I swear I'm clean now and -”

You can sense Frankie spiraling, so you impulsively reach out and place one of your hands on his large one. “You don't have to plead your case with me, Frankie. I'm not judging you.”

Frankie freezes momentarily, then relaxes. You feel one of his long fingers twitch on the tabletop under yours and quickly remove your hand. There's a little sigh from him before he continues, “well, anyway, this was kinda just something that fell in my lap. My friend, Ironhead, works with enlisted still and heard it's pretty easy to get into if you have the background and patience for sittin’ around and waiting. Well, I had the experience with my past in Delta Force, figured the patients would come along as I go. Never did like surveillance gigs.”

The last sentence seems like an afterthought, but you catch the mild disdain in his voice and it makes you smile to see the man in front of you sounding so petulant. “Ok, but Ironhead is an interesting name,” you comment.

Frankie huffed a laugh. “His call-sign actually. Most of us had one on my squad.”

“Oh really? And what was yours?”

“Catfish,” Frankie responds immediately.

“Catfish?” You repeat. “Where did that one come from?” you laugh a little bit.

“And that's a story for a different day,” Frankie responds with a laugh of his own.

After another small pause, your eyes drift back down to the inconspicuous envelope sitting on the table in front of you. With another small smile and a nod, you reach for the envelope. “I better get going. Lots of errands to get through on my day off.” It's a lie, but you figure a swift exit is necessary in this moment.

Frankie nods, then shifts his hat to run a hand through his already messy curls. Hat back in place, he stands and gestures that he'll walk you out.

Back outside, in the bright afternoon sun, Frankie looks down at you as he walks you all the way to your car. His eyes are caramel again, but they hold a bit of something akin to sadness in them. He drops his head, those eyes disappearing behind the bill of his cap, and slides his hands into his pockets, shoulders curving inward. “I really am sorry,” he begins. “I had hoped it would be different this time. You deserve better than some cabrón who can't see that he already has something great right in front of him.”

Frankie sounds so sincere that it stops you short. You look up at him as he peeks from under his hat. His mouth is twisted into a frown under his mustache. And that's all it takes for your eyes to begin to fill with tears.

In an instant, Frankie's arms are around you. He doesn't hesitate to pull you into a loose hug. One you could easily step away from if you had the care to do so. Instead, you step forward and accept the comfort. In a second, his arms close around you tighter and you're wrapped in his warmth, face pressed into his brown jacket. Trying not to fall apart right here in the parking lot, you catalog how his arms feel around you, and how warm his chest is.

His jacket smells like an auto garage, faintly like oil, but his shirt underneath smells woodsy - probably whatever cologne he sprayed on this morning - and, underneath that, clean like fresh linen. It's a comforting scent, and you breathe it in for a second longer than probably necessary before you finally lean back. He drops his arms immediately and takes half a step back.

“I am so sorry,” you apologize instantly.

“No, don't be. You have no reason to be. Just, um, get home safe ok?” That worry line is present between his eyes again. “Text me when you get home.”

“I'll be ok,” you assure him. You climb into your car and allow him to close the door gently for you. He steps back and gives a tiny wave before he turns and walks over to his own truck.

The drive home is a bit of a blur. You call Erin and Ashley on the way to tell them the news. Erin is instantly in her car and on her way over. “We are gonna change the locks and have ourselves a movie night,” she proclaims.

Ashley frets over not being there, but you assure her you're okay and she should enjoy her vacation. You only called because she'd freak if you told Erin before her.

Erin gets to your house 30 minutes later with a box of cheap wine and a bag full of snacks. You talk her out of changing the locks, but it doesn't matter either way because when you text Andrew to tell him you're having a girls night he tells you he's going to be out late anyway and not to wait up.

Your heart drops the way it always does when you suspect a lie. This time, though, it's not just speculation. You have the proof right in front of you, in an unopened manila envelope partially covered in chip bags.

“So is that them?” Erin speaks, noticing your gaze on the offending envelope.

“I guess so. Pictures and proof of my husband's affair with some front desk girl at his office.” Your tone is mild, but you feel a pressure building behind your eyes once more and that crushing weight settling over your sternum.

“Have you looked yet?” Erin asked.

“Nope.”

“Are you gonna?”

“We can open them together,” you suggest.

But before she can answer, your phone beeps to alert you that you got a new text message.

Hey, bonita, is everything ok? You never texted me… You safe?

His words bring a small smile to your face. Frankie always has a way of making you feel like he truly cares. Checking in often, but never overstepping into being overbearing. It's a warm welcome compared to the icy breeze of you and your husband's cohabitation of the same home, but never really living together.

You type out, yes. Sorry. Erin insisted on a girls night, and hit send.

That's good. Did she bring the salsa verde doritos?

Your smile grows at the mention of your favorite chips. Of course he'd remember something as silly as that. Frankie had a knack for remembering little details. Things you sometimes even forgot to had ever mentioned he would bring up weeks later in a random conversation. It's probably just a Frankie Morales thing, but it still always made you feel just a little special that he remembered such details.

“What has you suddenly shining like the sun?” Erin questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you know you're blushing, but you try to play it cool. “Just Frankie checking in. Making sure you're taking care of me.”

“Um, of course I'm taking care of you! Who else is gonna do it?” Erin jokes, pushing your shoulder teasingly. “Unless Mr. Morales was trying to volunteer for the job?”

“He's just being kind,” you roll your eyes at Erin's implication. “He's been very supportive through this whole thing.”

“Supportive, huh? And what kind of support might he be offering?” In a swift motion your phone is suddenly in your best friends hands and she's danced off to the other side of the room. Ignoring your protests and attempts to claim back your property, she starts swiping through weeks of conversation between you and Frankie. “Holy shit! Have you two even stopped talking since you met?”

“Come on, Erin,” you beg, “he’s just been asking for more information for his investigation and making sure I'm okay.”

“Two days ago you told him about the goldfish you got in college that died within the week. Was that pertinent information to his investigation?”

Seizing an opportunity, you snatched your phone back, clutching it to your chest. “Shouldn't you be trying to cheer me up?”

“Looks like your new bestie Frankie should be here instead,” she snarks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh shut it and pour me some wine,” you reply with an exaggerated eye roll.

While your friend is busy you quickly type out a response to Frankie. She's pretty much the worst. Brought bbq instead even though she knows I hate them.

Frankie's reply is quick, or maybe that's why she brought them. So she wouldn't have to share with you, avara.

I don't know what you just called me, but I know I'm offended.

Frankie's reply is a long string of laughing emojis.

With the photos forgotten, you let Erin put on some 80’s movie and tried your best to enjoy the night. The envelope would still be there tomorrow, so for tonight you just relax.

It will probably be the last time you'll be able to in a while anyway.

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

Frankie hasn't heard from her in a few days. She doesn't text as often and it doesn't feel like his place to bother her.

Today, though, he woke up late after being out late on a surveillance job to a text from her. I'm kicking him out. I can't stand to live here with him anymore. I just want him gone and out of my life.

Squinting down at the bright screen if his phone, Frankie replies, is there anything I can do for you, bonita?

Recommend me a great divorce lawyer? Is her response. He knows it's sarcasm, but he shoots her a list of a few lawyers he knows of and trusts anyway.

Frankie was glad she wasn't going to stick around with the bastard. He'd seen that enough times to know it never works out anyway, and always makes things worse in the end.

You're amazing Frankie. Thank you for everything. I also have your payment in full btw. Do you have time this weekend to meet and grab it?

You really don't need to thank me, dulzura. I just want to help. This Sunday is good for me. At the café?

Her reply takes a little longer this time, so Frankie finally drags himself out of bed. A quick look at the time tells him he barely has time for a shower before he has to meet Ironhead and Benny for their planned fishing trip. Once Frankie is back, she had finally replied with a simple, yes.

She had rarely been short in her texts before, and it made Frankie's stomach sink a little. Shooting off a quick, let me know if there's anything you need, he pockets the phone and heads out.

A few more days pass with minimal texts. Frankie makes a point to text at least once a day. Maybe it's intrusive, but she never complains about it. And, if he's honest with himself, he misses her too much to stop now.

He realizes that she has become a fixture in his life. Going from texting multiple times throughout the day to barely a good morning text over his morning coffee makes him twitchy and he feels like he's always wondering what she's doing.

Sunday finally comes and Frankie is at the café ten minutes early, ready to finally see her in person. Ready to hold a conversation with her, even if only for a moment. But the ten minutes pass, then another ten and his leg starts to bounce under the table. She's never been late before, and Frankie checks his phone for a 20th time to make sure she hasn't texted to tell him she's had a change of plans. He decides to shoot her a text himself to make sure she didn't forget about their meeting.

Twenty more minutes with no response to his text and Frankie is back in his truck. He's already talked himself out of driving to her house and just knocking on the door several times. But as his truck rumbles to life and he exits the parking lot, he ends up turning left instead of right. Going to her house would be viewed as crossing some line in Frankie's eyes. He's never gone to a clients home without invitation before. Generally it's best to go about as if you don't even have that information, just to keep people from getting creeped out.

Frankie justifies his actions now by telling himself he just needs to see that she's okay. That her not showing up is abnormal and thus deserving of investigation.

When he pulls up to the curb across from her house, he notes the two cars in the driveway. His heart drops as he sees that one of them is her husband’s, parked neatly behind hers. Frankie knows she had told him she was kicking Andrew out, but his heart drops as he realizes maybe she had reconciled with him and he moved back. Frankie wonders if that's why she had been so distant lately.

He's about to just pull away when he notices the front door open and there she is. She has her arms full of boxes which she unceremoniously drops onto the sidewalk outside. She looks frazzled, but unharmed, Frankie takes a mental note. But she's yelling back into the house, her face red with anger.

Andrew shows himself in that moment, coming outside to scream something in her face. In the next moment, he's grabbing her roughly by the arm and trying to force her back into the house.

Frankie is out of his truck before he really has time to think. He's across the street and reaching them with quick, efficient steps in only a moment, which causes a pause in the fighting for a second. Frankie takes advantage of their confusion to gently pull her away from Andrew's loosened grip and moving her so that he is between the fighting couple.

Andrew, for his part, still has a look of surprise that has rendered him frozen in his spot. Whether that's from the way Frankie had barged into the situation or the pure anger that is radiating off Frankie's body, it's hard to say. But it gives Frankie the window he needs to pull back his fist and firmly plant it into Andrew's nose. Frankie hears the snap and feels the familiar give of a nose breaking under his knuckles.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he growls. “And I suggest not coming back around. Don't come near her, don't call her, don't even think about her.”

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

Once Andrew has run off, finally taking the remainder of his belongings with him, you're left alone with an angry Frankie, his fists still clenched and his shoulders tense.

Honestly, he's sexy as hell and you definitely notice. Anybody would be blind not to, you think to yourself.

You usher him inside, through to your kitchen, and pour two glasses of whiskey, sliding one over to him.

“I'm sorry I barged in,” Frankie apologizes after he takes a large gulp of his drink. “I didn't hear from you today and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Shit, your money! I am so sorry.”

“It's fine, hermosa. I'm not worried about the money. I was worried about you.”

His declaration freezes both of you for a moment, before you lift your own cup to your lips and take a sizable sip.

“He was supposed to come by while I was out today, but he showed up early. I guess he's been trying to get ahold of me,” you finally break the silence.

“You guess?” Frankie repeats back.

“Well, I blocked his number cuz I got tired of his constant calls and texts. He thinks I'm being irrational and we should work this out. But I've also heard that he's been staying with his side piece ever since I kicked him out, so….”

Frankie shoots back the rest of his alcohol. “I can get you paperwork for a restraining order,” he offers.

You smile at that because of course Frankie would offer you more help. “I think you already did enough for me,” you reply.

Frankie's hand goes to the back of his neck and his head dips low, “I shouldn't have hit him. That's just gonna cause you more trouble.��

“Don't worry about that,” you chastise gently. “He got what was coming to him and he knows it. It's just that, you have done a lot for me in general these past few weeks. A lot more than I think I can pay you back for.” Speaking of which, you turn to your purse on the counter, digging through it to pull out the check written out to Frankie.

“Maybe you can pay me back with dinner,” Frankie aims for nonchalants.

It draws a breathy laugh from your throat. “It would take a lot of dinners to cover your fee.”

“Well, we could start with one and see where it goes from there.”

✨✨Part 2✨✨

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Seven-Part One)

Summary: A day before Tony Stark’s charity ball, (Y/N) is assigned her very-first mission as an Avenger and needless to say, she finds herself under extreme pressure not to fail.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: The Spanish in this chapter was translated with Google Translate, so I’m sorry if there’s a mistake in it.

A/N: I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Seven (Part I) July 10th, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“Hurry up, (Y/L/N), your Quinjet’s gonna be leaving soon and we still have to see if your suit’s working okay!”

As Bruce scolded Tony for being too pushy, (Y/N) finished fastening her sword to her belt with quaking fingers. After three months of extensive daily training, she was finally going on her first field mission as an Avenger; according to Director Fury and Steve, she had excelled in both magical and physical training and was finally ready to put her skills to good use. (Y/N) was excited, of course, but she was also a complete nervous wreck. What if I make a mistake and put the others in danger, she asked herself for the tenth time that day. She knew how much her teammates would be counting on her on this mission, and she was terrified of such high expectations resting squarely on her shoulders.

To distract herself from the butterflies in her stomach, she looked into the floor-length mirror and examined her brand-new uniform. It reminded her of Natasha’s full-body leather suit, but there were several distinct differences; (Y/N)’s bodysuit was made of black and purple leather, it included pieces of black leather armor and matching fingerless gloves and she wore knee-high leather wedge boots, silver arm circlets and gauntlets on her forearms. A long purple cloak hung from her shoulders by silver-toned clasps, and her sheathed sword hung from her waist. She couldn’t help but smile at her reflection, her new suit making her feel just as empowered as the tower’s two resident Asgardians. Smoothing down her hair one last time, she took a deep breath and drew back the curtain separating her from the rest of the lab, causing both men to turn and gape.

Tony’s eyebrows raised and his mouth hung open almost comically. “Damn, (Y/L/N), you look…”

“Fantastic!” Bruce smiled widely.

“I was gonna say ‘badass’ but ‘fantastic’ works too.” The billionaire gestured for her to stand on a short stool before continuing. “We designed the leather of the suit to be breathable and flexible, the armor’s bullet-proof and it can even withstand extreme heat and cold to a certain degree.” Tony pointed to her silver gauntlets as he paced around her. “FYI, these were partly inspired by our little bonding incident a few weeks back, (Y/L/N), remember? They’re not vibranium like Capsicle’s shield but they’re still bullet-proof in case any get through your magic.”

(Y/N) twisted her forearms to examine the gauntlets better. “That’s amazing, Tony!” The billionaire smiled proudly at her compliment. “But, what about my glasses? I can’t wear them on missions and you guys know my eyes don’t react well to contact lenses…”

Bruce’s eyes gleamed with triumph. “That problem had us stumped for a while, but last week we finally managed invent a solution that didn’t involve cutting into your corneas with a laser.” He handed her a pair of metal-framed glasses and held her regular pair for her. “Put these on and press the button on the right side of the frame, please.”

“Oh, my goodness…” (Y/N)’s mouth fell open as she followed his instructions and examined her reflection in the mirror Bruce held up. The glasses had flickered once before turning completely invisible, making it look as if she didn’t wear glasses at all. “How did you two geniuses manage this?”

Both scientists looked pleased with her reaction. “Well, we just adapted the same cloaking technology that S.H.I.E.L.D. used on their helicarrier and improved upon it; anyone attacking you won’t realize you’re wearing glasses unless they sock you in the eye, which is something I’m pretty sure you’d stop from happening.”

“The lenses are bullet-proof, scratch and glare-resistant, they’re fitted so they won’t fall off and we made several pairs just in case something happens to these ones.” Bruce set down the mirror and picked up his clipboard to jot down some notes. “Now, does everything feel all right? Nothing’s too tight or too loose?”

Shaking her head, (Y/N) moved her arms and legs to be sure. “Everything feels perfect.” The moment Bruce finished writing down his notes, she jumped down from her stool and gave him a tight hug, smiling when she felt him slowly return it. “Thank you, Bruce.” She pulled away from him and gave Tony a hug, which he was much quicker to return. “And thank you too, Tony. The suit is wonderful and I feel much safer now that I have it!”

“No problem, (Y/N), we just want to make sure you’re protected when you go out there.”

“Yeah, Stevie Nicks, you should always use protection.” Tony smirked playfully as (Y/N) blushed and Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose in mild exasperation at his suggestive comment.

Just then, Natasha walked in, dressed in her standard black leather bodysuit with her hair braided over her shoulder. “Nice suit, (Y/N)! Cap wanted me to tell you that the Quinjet’s leaving in five, so you’d better hurry up.”

“Thank you, Nat, I’ll be there in a minute,” She turned back to the two men as Natasha left and grinned. “Well, wish me luck!”

Bruce gave her a smile. “Good luck, (Y/N).”

Tony’s smirk widened. “Yeah, not that you need it, though; you’re gonna kick so much ass out there in that getup.”

Chuckling lightly, (Y/N) gave them one last glance before leaving the lab; on the way to the elevator, she heard someone call her name and turned to see Loki hurrying to catch up with her. Her heart beat even faster in her chest when she noticed that he was wearing her favorite outfit: fitted black slacks and an emerald-green dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his long black hair hanging loose around his shoulders. She mentally chastised herself before saying, “Hi Loki, what are you up to?”

“I couldn’t very well let my best friend leave on her first mission without wishing her luck now, could I?” Loki flashed her a grin, but she could see the uneasiness in his eyes. “You look positively fearsome in that armor, by the way. How are you feeling?”

“Thanks, and I guess I feel a little nervous,” She said truthfully as they stepped into the elevator, knowing better than to lie to him. “I don’t want to be the one responsible for any of the others getting hurt.”

Loki gently took her hand and held it between his own as the elevator rose, making her faintly blush at the contact. “Lady (Y/N), I can assure you that you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Our teammates can take care of themselves, and as long as you remember all the training you’ve excelled at over these past few months, you’ll be able to protect them and yourself if the need arises. Remember, everyone in this tower believes in you, but none more so than I.”

Looking into his sincere green eyes, she could feel her nervousness slowly begin to melt away and she smiled up at him. “Thank you, Loki, that really helped.”

“I’m glad I could be of assistance,” He grinned before letting go of her hand. “And please try to hurry back, I don’t think I could handle going to Stark’s charity ball tomorrow evening and watch everyone make fools of themselves by myself.”

Stark Industries hosted over a hundred charity events for dozens of different causes and organizations every year, but one of the only ones held personally by the billionaire included an annual charity ball to raise money for children’s hospitals across the country. Since the Avengers had begun using the tower as their base three years ago, the ball had become increasingly popular as more and more people were willing to donate to attend and meet the heroes. (Y/N) was excited to go and promote such a worthy cause, but she was also excited for an entirely different reason: two weeks ago, Loki had asked her to accompany him as his date. She could vividly remember the moment he’d asked her…

“Loki? Loki, are you in there?” (Y/N) knocked on his door before sighing. “Listen, Steve told me that you haven’t been having a good day so I brought you some snacks. We can watch a movie, if you want? Trust me, nothing will cheer you up more than chocolate chip cookies and A Knight’s Tale! It’s about a squire who poses as a knight and competes in jousting tourna-”

“What’s jousting?”

(Y/N) shrieked and spun around to face a laughing Loki, pressing her free hand to her chest and smiling despite herself. “Loki, that wasn’t funny! I almost had a heart attack!”

Loki continued to snicker. “Apologies, my lady, but I couldn’t resist the temptation.”

“So, I take it that you’re having a better day now?” She followed him into his room and sat in her usual place on his couch, handing him his cookies with a raised brow.

He nodded, a cheerful look on his face. “Significantly better, actually. I suddenly remembered that Stark’s charity ball is in two weeks and that I’ll be able to enjoy it with you. That is, if you wish to accompany me…”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Loki, who else would I go with?” (Y/N) mirrored his bright smile before gesturing to the television across from them. “So, snacks and a movie?” As they watched A Knight’s Tale, (Y/N) concluded that Loki was only asking her to accompany him as a friend; she was a little disappointed, of course, but she wasn’t going to allow her emotions to ruin a fun night for her and her best friend.

(Y/N) chuckled to herself as the memory faded; they stepped out of the elevator and walked to the floor’s glass doors. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back in no time.” Before he could reply, they stepped out into the tower’s small hangar where a Quinjet was being prepared for departure on the protruding helipad.

“There you are, (Y/N), we’re almost ready to leave!” Steve called from the Quinjet’s ramp as he slung his shield onto his back and adjusted his helmet’s jaw strap.

Loki gave her a reassuring smile. “Good luck on your first mission, Lady (Y/N).” He leaned down to give her a hug but to her surprise, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her up off her feet; she giggled in surprise and he laughed, gently swaying her from side-to-side as she wrapped her arms around his neck and experienced the now-familiar fluttering in the pit of her stomach. “And please, stay safe.”

“I will, Loki, I have an important engagement tomorrow night that I can’t miss, remember?” She joked, feeling a swell of pride when he chuckled lightly. “I’ll be safe, I promise.”

He set her gently on her feet and she reluctantly pulled away from his arms, giving him one last smile before following Steve into the Quinjet. The ramp closed behind them and (Y/N) quickly strapped herself into the seat next to a familiar face as the plane lifted into the air.

“Hi Scott, I haven’t seen you in a while!” (Y/N) had met Scott Lang during her first month as an Avenger; he was in awe that she was half-Light Elf and had nearly fainted from excitement when she gave him a small demonstration of her powers, and she was equally amazed with his suit’s ability to change sizes and the way he was able to communicate with ants. He wasn’t in the tower often but whenever he was, they got along very well. “How are you? How’s Cassie doing?”

Scott smiled, a gleam in his eyes that he got whenever anyone mentioned his five-year-old daughter. “Ah, I’m good, my buddies and I just opened up our security company – we call it X-CON, get it? – and Cassie’s doing great; I helped her read through a picture-book version of Charlotte’s Web and she’s been reading it all by herself for the past week!”

(Y/N) grinned, the pride in his voice filling her with happiness. “That’s wonderful, tell her I said ‘congratulations’! And congratulations to you for your company; I take it they let you come up with the name yourself?”

As the Quinjet continued to fly, (Y/N) continued talking to the energetic man, thankful that he was there to keep her mind off the nervousness surrounding her swiftly-approaching first mission.

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

Two hours later, they had reached their destination: the Dominican Republic on the island of Hispaniola. Their mission was simple, to destroy a large weapons compound that was operated by a terrorist organization with known ties to Hydra. Scott would go in first and disable the nearly-impenetrable security system before splitting off with Natasha while (Y/N) and Steve stayed together; each group would then plant a batch of explosives around the vast compound. The explosives were rigged to a detonator Natasha held, but it was still imperative they get out as quickly as possible in case of any complications. Please let everything turn out all right, (Y/N) silently prayed as they trekked closer to the compound and took cover twenty yards away behind a fallen tree. The moment Steve gave him the signal, Scott pressed a button on the glove of his suit and instantly shrunk, and a moment later, the tiny outline of an ant could be seen in the fading moonlight, flying quickly towards the compound’s concrete wall.

“Don’t tell Tony, but I think your suit’s way cooler than his, Lang.” Natasha’s lips curled into a smile but her eyes continued to scan the area for any threats.

(Y/N) heard Scott’s soft chuckle through her comm link. “Black Widow likes my suit more than Iron Man’s? Awesome.”

“All right, you both remember the plan, right?” Steve looked up from his explosives-filled satchel and glanced at the two of them.

“We’ve been over the plan twenty times, Cap, we’re fine.” Natasha rolled her eyes but grew serious when she caught sight of (Y/N)’s face. “We’re fine, right (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) nodded once, trying to mask her nervousness with a smile. “Yeah, of course, Nat.”

“Hey super-dudes, I just disabled the security system so come on in whenever you’re ready! But, you might wanna hurry ‘cause I have to turn it back on after one minute so they won’t get suspicious…which you already know ‘cause we went over the plan on the Quinjet. My bad. And I just realized, (Y/N), you’re the only one of us who doesn’t have a cool superhero name and that’s just not acceptable, so I’m gonna make one up for you, okay?”

She couldn’t help but smile at Scott’s unique way of calming her jittery nerves. “Okay Scott, go ahead and make up a cool superhero name for me.”

“Time to go.” Steve pulled his shield onto his arm and gave her an encouraging smile. “We’ll be fine, (Y/N), don’t worry.” The two of them crept silently towards the compound and Steve motioned for her to get behind him before swiftly pulling the unlocked front door open. He immediately threw his shield, hitting the three surprised guards in the heads and catching it as they crumpled to the ground. Silently marveling at Steve’s impressive throwing skills, (Y/N) followed him as they continued down the vast hall.

“Cap, (Y/N), you’ve got two armed guards heading straight towards you on your left, and a couple of others coming up from behind.” Natasha said, revealing that she had already reached the compound’s control room.

Steve glanced at (Y/N) and gestured for her to take the lead before turning to prepare for the attack, and she immediately knew what she had to do. Taking a deep breath and concentrating all her energy into her hands, she summoned two balls of purple magic in her palms; the moment the two men turned the corner in front of them, she thrust her hands and magic outwards, engulfing the men in swirls of purple magic and causing them to slam into each other and then into the concrete wall behind them. They hit the wall with a sickening crunch and fell to the ground, unconscious. Behind her, Steve threw his shield and took out the other two guards.

Natasha chuckled through the earpiece. “Nicely done, Bad-Ass; Scott and I are onto Phase Two, so you two are on your own. We’ll meet you at the rendezvous point when we’re done.”

The two Avengers continued down the halls of the compound, occasionally coming across the remnants of Natasha and Scott’s handiwork but strangely no more armed men. In no time, they reached the compound’s warehouse, which was filled with hundreds of wooden crates. Weapons, (Y/N) thought as she frowned in disgust. This particular terrorist organization was responsible for half a dozen attacks around the world in recent years that had resulted in countless civilian casualties, so she had no problem with working to take them down along with Hydra.

They quickly began planting the explosives all around the vast room but just as they finished, at least two dozen armed guards burst in. Steve immediately ran into battle, but (Y/N) froze in fear, her legs unwilling to move. Time seemed to slow around her as a familiar feminine voice spoke in her head: “Kiddo, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent…”

You’ve spent three months training for this exact moment, (Y/N) thought to herself, now it’s time to show the world its newest Avenger. She unsheathed her sword and charged at the men; she sliced through their guns like butter before they could pull the triggers and deflected their knife attacks with ease, twirling and ducking around them and using their slowness to her advantage as she slashed at them. She was vaguely aware of Steve fighting nearby but she was entirely focused on her task of incapacitating her attackers. Her luck left her, however, when she kicked an attacker to the ground; the last man standing took her by surprise then with a hard punch to the stomach and wrenched her arm behind her back, causing her to gasp in pain and drop her sword.

“No eres tan dura ahora, ¿verdad, puta?” The man growled into her ear as he pointed a knife to her chest, its tip puncturing the exposed skin along her collarbone.

“Todavía no has visto nada.” She replied, elbowing him hard in the stomach and ducking under his arm as he doubled over in pain. Rolling out of the way, she picked up her fallen sword and raised it just in time to block his knife attack; she countered it by twisting the knife out of his hands and slamming the hilt of her sword against his head. Her attacker fell to the ground like a stone, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, (Y/N) looked around for Steve and saw that he was locked in combat with a larger man. She was about to hurry to his aid when she caught sight of a sniper crouching atop a tower of crates and pointing a rifle at Steve’s unaware back. Without a moment of thought, she sheathed her sword and ran into the line of fire just as the sniper pulled the trigger. Time seemed to slow down and she could practically see the bullet flying through the air; raising both her hands and summoning her magic, she was rewarded with the sight of the bullet ricocheting away and a millisecond later, the sight of the sniper being engulfed in a swirling purple cloud and thrown roughly against the wall before falling to the ground.

She turned to see Steve standing over his defeated attacker, a stunned expression on his face. (Y/N) only breathed a sigh of relief, her pride and relief overtaking her earlier nervousness.

“Wait, you speak Spanish?”

Scott’s legitimately confused tone causing her to stifle a smile. “Yes, Scott, I speak some Spanish. A little French, as well.”

“As much as I’d love to learn more about Trilingual (Y/N), we’ve got a mission to finish. Scott and I are already at the rendezvous-”

Just then, the unmistakable sounds of thundering footsteps echoed from the hall; it sounded as if nearly fifty heavily-armed men were approaching, all heading right for them. When they turned to look through the small window of the door, they could clearly make out the bazookas the first several men held in their arms as they approached. They plan on sacrificing their weapons and their lives just to kill us, she thought with a horrified gasp.

(Y/N) quickly used her magic to keep the door barred and whirled around to face Steve, an undoubtedly insane plan coming to mind. “Nat, you have the detonator. Press the button when I tell you to.”

“But you and Steve are still in there!”

“Nat, if we don’t blow this place to hell right now, then they’ll be the ones to do it! Besides,” Steve’s confident blue eyes never left hers as he gave her an encouraging nod. “(Y/N) has a plan.”

Natasha remained silent for several moments. “All right, tell me when.”

“I really hope your crazy idea works, (Y/N), or else you two are gonna be toast.”

Hurrying to the center of the warehouse, (Y/N) knelt, pulling Steve down with her, and held her arms up above their heads; she was grateful that the super soldier wrapped an arm around her waist and raised his shield as a precaution, as things were about to become much shakier. Summoning every ounce of strength and power she could without passing out, she created a swirling bubble of purple magic to fully surround them. I love you, Loki, she thought just before shouting out, “Now!”

Explosions went off around them and caused the earth to quake, enormous balls of fire to expand across the room and the warehouse to begin crumbling away around them. To her great relief, her magical force-field held, deflecting the fire and debris and keeping the air inside fresh, but her arms began to shake with effort. All of a sudden, it felt as if she was lifting an immeasurable weight but she continued to hold her magic in place despite the pain. I have to protect Steve, I have to protect Steve, she repeated in her head, gritting her teeth and concentrating all her remaining energy on her magic. That last bit of effort did the trick; yelling in pain, magic pulsed outwards from the force field, vaporizing everything within fifty feet of them and extinguishing the blazing fires. She collapsed against Steve and struggled to remain conscious, the force field surrounding them finally fading away; they both immediately began coughing as their lungs filled with smoky air.

“C’mon (Y/N), stay with me,” Wasting no time, Steve stood and pulled her into his arms, quickly carrying her through the thick smoke and towards the distant tree line. “I’ve got you, can you stay awake for me? Stay awake, (Y/N), we’re almost there, just keep your eyes open…”

She opened her mouth to respond but could only violently cough; after blacking out for what only felt like a moment, she blinked her eyes open and realized that they were back on the Quinjet and already in the air. Her head was resting in Steve’s lap, and Natasha and Scott were leaning over her; all three of them had equally concerned expressions on their faces. “(Y/N)! Thank God you’re okay!”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly and looked up at all three beaming Avengers. “Did…did we finish the mission? Who’s flying the Quinjet?”

“Don’t worry, I put it on autopilot and yeah,” Natasha nodded, a proud smile stretching across her face. “Yeah, we finished the mission all thanks to you, Bad-Ass. Seriously, what you did was fucking amazing, (Y/N).”

Steve grinned; he had taken off his helmet while she was unconscious, and the parts of his face that hadn’t been covered were streaked with soot. “Not too shabby for your first mission, doll.”

“And while you were off being awesome, I came up with the perfect superhero name for you,” Scott grinned triumphantly before continuing. “How about ‘The Cosmic Sorceress?’ ‘Cause based off what Captain America here told us and what we saw ourselves, you showed a lot of bad guys that you’re a scary-ass force to be reckoned with, and bad-assery like that deserves a name to match.”

(Y/N) thought for a moment, a smile slowly stretching across her face as she looked up at her fellow Avengers. “You know what? I love it, Scott.”

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

Spanish Translations: No eres tan dura ahora, ¿verdad, puta?-You're not so tough now, are you bitch? Todavía no has visto nada-You haven't seen anything yet.

A/N: (Y/N) finally has a ‘made-up name’ like the others! Sorry to leave you in suspense, but Loki and (Y/N)’s ‘date’ will be the next chapter so stay tuned! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Seven-Part Two

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[bopbopstyles]

1. December 26th, 2016

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 6.4k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

A/N: welcome to chapter one of THE ONLY EXCEPTION! i’m so flipping excited i could scream!!!!!! this fic is going to be a long boi so buckle up. also thank you to @meetmeinfleetwood​ for supporting this fic from the start ilysm!!!! xoxo, willa

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Y/N’s dad had been having these Christmas parties for the past five years or so, each time on the 26th of December, each time packed with music industry people and lots of bottles of tequila and red wine. Her first time had been two years ago, and she had found it surprisingly enjoyable—she had expected it to be boring and to want to leave after the first hour. Instead, it was full of people she had known since she was a kid, musicians and producers and her dad’s old A&R guys who she had grown up hanging out with in recording studios and backstage at her dad’s shows. They had come to family dinners before and after her parents’ divorce, and so when she ran into them at the parties it was easy to catch them up on her life and suddenly it was after midnight and the party was emptying out. 

This year she had volunteered to help set up. Her dad had rented a massive house out in the hills and it came already decorated, but it was on Y/N to make sure there were chairs set up for the music circle, a massive bar laid out and plenty of glasses ready. Her dad’s friend was making the food, eager to use the opportunity to promote the new restaurant he was opening, so when Y/N opened the door it already smelled like garlic and olive oil, her favorite scents on earth. 

“Karl!” She called through the house, shutting the heavy oak door behind her. Her arms were laden with boxes of plastic glasses—her dad was too scared of the guests breaking glass ones—and she wandered into the kitchen. The tall ceilings of the entryway where a massive Christmas tree sat adorned with ornaments gave way to a modern, sleek kitchen. Karl twirled around to greet her, a grin on his face. “Smells delicious in here.”

He set down his spatula and came over, grabbing a box and giving her a kiss on each cheek. “Hello, darling. Are there more in the car?” 

She shook her head, unwinding her scarf from her neck and placing it on the counter. Karl had been her father’s college roommate and somehow they’d stayed close over the years, every one of Y/N’s birthdays spent at one of Karl’s restaurants with all of her favorite dishes made special, a birthday cannoli with a candle in it for her to blow out. “This is all of the glasses. Dad told me to get the bar ready—he’s bringing the booze in a bit.”

“Hope there’s a glass of wine in there for the chef,” Karl said and Y/N chuckled—there always was a bottle of Karl’s favorite expensive wine set aside when he did one of these things and he knew it. It was part of the pay, her father always said. “Want to taste test?”

“Always.” Y/N joined Karl at the stove, eagerly tasting the sauce he was cooking. It was a simple sage butter sauce, but Karl always excelled at the most simple dishes. “Delicious, as usual,” she said. 

Karl jabbered her ear off about the updates on the restaurant—they’d run into problems finding a good sous chef and he was about to do the job himself if he didn’t find someone soon—while Y/N decided where to set up the bar. Finally, she settled on a high table against the glass wall in the wide hallway between the kitchen and the sprawling dining room, which opened up onto the patio. She tugged open the accordion glass doors and breathed in the cool Los Angeles air, thankful for a relatively cold evening, since she always got overheated at parties like this, where people were crammed into every corner. Her dad seemed to know more people every year. Satisfied with the position of the table, she set out the glasses and paper napkins, before asking Karl if he had an extra cooler he’d brought with. She’d forgotten to ask her dad for one before she had left. She filled it with ice and set it next to the table with a scoop, and grabbed the special shot glasses her father had told her to bring, placing them on the table next to a bouquet of flowers. 

Her job done, she wandered through the rest of the house. It was gorgeous—she wondered how her father had found it. If she remembered correctly, he had said something about it being an official venue for music and parties, he’d done a private gig here a few years back and the owners had loved him enough to offer it for this party. It’s not like anyone really had gigs on December 26th anyway. She closed all the doors to the back bedrooms, remembering her father’s request, and set up a coat closet of sorts out of the bedroom closest to the front, before heading to change into her outfit for the evening. 

“Y/N!” She was securing her favorite pair of earrings in her ears when she heard her father’s voice through the halls of the house. “Where ya at, sweetheart?”

“One sec, Dad!” She grabbed the hanger she had kept her top on and shoved it into her massive purse, settling it into the back corner of the room for safety. Her father was waiting for her in the kitchen with Karl, also getting a sample of the sauce she had tried earlier. 

“Hi you,” her father said when she came in. His salt and pepper hair was balding a bit, but his bright smile was what drew people in, olive skin that tanned easily in the California sun. Y/N had selected his suit for the evening, a maroon red and a black tie, something a bit out of the ordinary for him, but Y/N loved it. “Look gorgeous.”

She hugged her father tightly. She had spent Christmas with her mother, as usual, so this was the first time she’d seen her dad during the holidays. “Not too bad yourself, captain.”

“Ha!” Her father pinched her cheek softly, just as he had when she was a child. “I’ve got your present in the car, come grab it with me?”

“Sure.” They had decided to exchange gifts at the party and Y/N had hers tucked in the back pocket of her jeans—dinner on her at Karl’s new restaurant, something she’d discussed with the owner a few weeks ago. Her father’s car sat in the driveway, trunk open where boxes of alcohol laid waiting to be carried inside. “That my gift?”

“You wish,” her dad answered, and Y/N gave him a pouty look that he just shook his head at. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn’t help but hope it was cash—she needed a new computer and was running a bit short. She knew her dad would help if she asked, but she hated asking him for money. 

She took the envelope and opened it, a sheet of paper and something thicker hiding between its folds. She opened the letter and found a homemade coupon of sorts, just as she had done for him. 

TWO TICKETS TO ANY SHOW IN LA - NON-REFUNDABLE, FUN REQUIRED!

“Papa,” she said, giving him a beaming smile. “My favorite!” She threw her arms around his neck and he chuckled, hugging her right back. 

“Just give me a few weeks heads up, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and looked back down at the letter, eyes running over her dad’s sweet words of love and pride. It was their thing—homemade cards always, never store bought, despite that neither of them could draw. “Thank you.” 

“Welcome, sweetheart.”

“Now yours!” She reached into her pocket and pulled out his envelope, aptly addressed, Dad, and handed it over. Her father read her card as well, and chuckled at her drawing of them at dinner together. 

He kissed her forehead gently. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said, squeezing his side. “Now let’s get all this booze out of your car before I drive away with it!” Her dad laughed and followed her to the back of the car, them each grabbing a carton of wine. There had to be enough for over a hundred people, Y/N thought to herself. Who would be new this year?

The party was in full swing, her dad’s favorite music playing softly through the speaker system, people littered all over the house with the alcohol flowing. Karl was cooking up a storm in the kitchen, his food a massive hit, and Y/N couldn’t have been happier for him. She’d caught up with her dad’s friends and people who were essentially her godparents, sharing how her job was going (fine) and her relationship prospects (non-existent), sipping tequila and red wine on rotation. 

Y/N leaned against the patio railing overlooking the hills, a glass of tequila on the rocks settled in between her palms. She could hear her father’s voice in the distance calling people to come and start the music, the scrape of chairs and strumming of guitars. It was about time for her to go in, but she lingered, relishing the quiet of the night and the biting air wrapping around her. Since she didn’t play an instrument, despite her father’s attempts, this part of the evening was the part where she just sat back and observed. And also usually got quite drunk since all she had to do was drink and sing along. 

“Y/N, right?” She turned around, eyes focusing on the person standing a few feet away. “I’m Harry.”

Harry Styles. How had he ended up here, and how had she not seen him yet? “Nice to meet you,” she answered, standing up straight and taking a sip of her drink. “Not going in to play?”

He shook his head. “Bit nervous, if I’m honest. Lot of talent in that room.”

She cocked her head to the side as he joined her at the railing. “You’re plenty talented,” she told him. It was true. She was a huge fan of his, had been for a while, following his work in One Direction since its inception, and now in the solo career her dad had mentioned. He was recording with some guys out at The Village a few months ago and called her at the end of the day, saying he ran into Harry Styles in the middle of a session doing some solo stuff. Said it sounded good, which she wasn’t surprised by in the slightest. 

But Harry just chuckled. “Nah, those people are legends,” he said. She knew who he was talking about, too. One of the Dixie Chicks was there, some guys who had written with John Mayer and Kanye West, a dozen other Grammy-nominated musicians, some record label execs who had practically formed the industry as they knew it today, the A&R people who had found them. It was intimidating, definitely, but for Harry she didn’t think it would be. 

“Just people.” She sipped on her drink, studying him. He was in a long black coat, a loose black v-neck silk shirt and red and white plaid pants that tapered at the leg, his cropped curls falling into his face slightly. He also had a tequila on the rocks gripped in his hand, rings adorning every one of his fingers. A skull, a red stone, a silver band, amongst them. “Having fun?”

He smiles at her, thankful for the change of topic. “Loads. Haven’t been at a party like this in a while.”

“What do you mean?”

The breeze passed between them, ruffling his hair a bit. “I don’t know. Just, people who didn’t really give a shit about me, if you know what I mean? Holidays can be a bit much sometimes.”

She nodded as if she understood what it felt like to be a popstar of his fame, which she didn’t, but she could imagine. “Didn’t go home?”

“My mum and sister came here, actually,” he said. “They were craving a respite from the cold English winters.”

“Well, this is definitely a respite,” Y/N said, and Harry chuckled.

Silence stretched between them and Y/N tapped her fingernails against her cup. Maybe it was time to go inside, she thought. “So, Y/N, what do you do?”

His question pulled her out of her head easily. “Brand strategy,” she answered, thankful for a comfortable topic. “I work mostly with fashion and product companies, preferably sustainable ones.”

“You like it?”

“Love it.” She did. She loved her work—she’d gone to school for it and thrown herself into it after school, loving pitching projects for clients and helping them understand their core purpose and how they could grow and evolve  most authentically. “It was that or books, but I decided this was a bit more profitable. Also wasn’t too keen on living in New York.”

Harry nodded, twirling his glass in his hands. She took the opportunity to run her eyes across his face—he was gorgeous in this way that you weren’t sure was real. It was interesting to see how much he’d grown up. At 22, his cheekbones were cut and his jaw defined, his former long locks he had recently cut and Y/N liked these more, she decided. “What are your favorite writers?” He asked, pulling Y/N back into the conversation. 

“That’s like asking which one of your children is your favorite,” she joked, and he chuckled, the sound music to Y/N’s ears. “Dunno, really. I read so much it’s hard to choose, you know? Reading a Louise Erdrich book right now that’s absolutely stellar. The Round House—you should give it a go if you’ve got the time.”

He pulled out his phone and she watched him type in the name to his Notes app, the action making her smile. “Been looking for a new book,” he said. “Just been reading The New Yorker and my mum about took my head off for not reading enough.” They both laughed, the sound filling the night air. 

“Harry!” A man was standing in the doorway to the patio, a guitar in hand. “Come sing, mate.”

Harry glanced back at Y/N. “Coming?”

Y/N nodded and followed him inside, refilling her glass on the way. Harry handed her his, and she did the same, giving them both another glass of tequila to sip on while they listened to the circle of musicians. Someone had decided to do some Christmas tunes she Y/N smiled when she heard her father’s voice—he’d made it a bit country, just like he loved to do with popular songs. He’d grown up on a steady diet of folk music and country, just as Y/N had, and he always joked it was in his blood. Harry took a seat next to his friend who Y/N didn’t recognize—probably some producer her dad had met recently, maybe one of the guys from The Village if that was how they’d connected, and Y/N grabbed the seat her dad had saved for her next to him. 

She joined in immediately, knowing this rendition of “The Little Drummer Boy” by heart, since it was the same one he had made up when Y/N was eight or nine. Karl was in the circle too, a plate of food in his hands and his bottle of red wine on the ground, and he gave her a warm smile. This was her favorite part of the night—feeling a part of something her father loved so dearly. When he gave her a kiss to her temple and introduced her to the group, she couldn’t help but find Harry’s eyes, his irises twinkling back at her under the lights. 

At one o’clock, people finally began filtering out of the party, and Harry decided it was probably time for him to head. Jeff, who had invited him to come with, had already left, exhausted from the holidays with family, but Harry had stayed, hoping to talk to Y/N for a little while longer. He had unfortunately failed to catch her, though, the music running long and after it had wrapped up people had tugged her in for hugs and conversation. Despite knowing who she was through her father, he was still in awe of how intimately she knew all of these people. He overheard snippets of her conversations, asking about children and partners, parents who had cancer and career-defining moments she’d missed out on because of work. Harry was in this world too, but many of the people at this party were a bit older than his usual set—they belonged to the group of his heroes, rather than necessarily people he felt were his peers. He was still getting his solo career together, still only a boyband member in their eyes. He tried not to feel less than, but sometimes it was hard when you were sat next to Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks with utterly nothing to say but awe-inspired ramblings. 

Finally, Y/N was alone, the older couple she was talking to having left for the door, and Harry seized the opportunity. “Y/N,” he said, and her head popped up from her phone to look at him. Her dark brown hair was soft against her skin, and he eagerly wondered what it felt like against his skin, brown eyes that searched his soul. “I loved talking to you earlier.”

She smiled and Harry loved it when she did. Lit up the whole room, just about. “Me too. Glad you came—with Jeff, yeah?”

He nodded. “He introduced me to your dad when we were at The Village.” Y/N nodded as well, obviously having figured out the story. “I—I was wondering, would you want to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to chat more, get to know you.” He restrained the urge to bounce on his heels, nervous in front of her. He felt like a kid asking out his crush, but that’s what this was, a crush. Even if it came to nothing, she was kind, interesting, and fit into the world he revolved in. It wasn’t the most important thing, but he appreciated it all the same. 

“Oh,” she said, tone somber. “Sorry, Harry, but I don’t date musicians. Get home safe, yeah?” She turned away from him, feet carrying her back into the living room, presumably finding her father.

What? She didn’t date musicians? “I’m sorry—what?”

Y/N turned back to look at him. “I just don’t. Bit of a rule.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Don’t feel the need to explain it. Bye, Harry.” Then, she walked away and Harry was left in shock. The abrupt change in tone was like whiplash—she had seemed so interested, involved in their conversation, only to tell him she didn’t date musicians? What the fuck kind of rule was that? 

He huffed and tugged out his phone to tell his driver he was ready, and went outside, leaving behind Y/N and her confusing rule. But this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her, he decided. He wanted to know why she had this rule, this stupid rule that was stopping her from getting to know him. It wasn’t like he even asked her to date him, just to get coffee for Pete’s sake. Harry sat down in the car and pulled out his phone, composing a text to Jeff. 

Could I write with Peter? Seemed like a great guy, really talented. Maybe if she got to Y/N’s dad, he could earn some brownie points. Maybe then she’d bend her rules for him, because despite their short conversation, Harry was intrigued. 

Definitely, Jeff replied. I’ll text him tomorrow.

Harry closed his phone and smiled. Hopefully this worked, because Harry was dying to know more about this rule of hers. 

Y/N’s eyes narrowed when she pulled into her dad’s driveway. There was another car sat in the drive, a black 4-door SUV she’d never seen before, the windows tinted so she couldn’t see in. It reminded her of those cars the FBI drives in crime dramas, which obviously led her to a part of her brain that was not necessarily a hopeful place. She scrambled to grab her bag from work and her keys, launching herself from her car and towards her dad’s door. 

“Dad!” She called into the house, slamming the door shut behind her. “Whose car is in the drive? Didn’t tell me we’d be having company!” Gripping the wall for balance she toed off her shoes and set her bag on the floor next to the door, shrugging off her coat and setting it on a hook. “Dad?”

“He’s in the toilet.”

Her head whipped around and found Harry Styles standing in her hallway, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. As much as she had planned to forget about him after the party, never really expecting to see him again, she hadn’t been able to. And now he was in her house, hair pushed back from his face, a grin painted on his lips. It was irritating how gorgeous he was. “The fuck are you doing here?”

A hand went up to scratch the back of his neck and for a second Y/N regretted being quite so aggressive. “‘M writing with your dad,” he explained. “Guess he didn’t tell you.”

“No,” she answered. She brushed past him into the living room where, as Harry had said, it was obvious they had been writing. Her dad’s treasured old Gibson guitar leaning against his favorite armchair where he’d set it, computers out with GarageBand up for recording demos, papers with scribbles strewn across the coffee table. “Good session?��� She decided that there was no way he was here just to pursue her—he was there for professional reasons, after all. Her dad and Harry must’ve hit it off at the party last week. There was also the fact that her dad was a really fucking good songwriter, so of course Harry would want to work with him. Ever since he’d stopped touring, her dad had started doing mainly writing, his songs appearing on records from everyone from up-and-coming artists the label found him to John Legend. 

Harry just nodded. Her eyes drifted to his own guitar, a soft brown wood that had obviously seen some heavy use and travel. She recognized it from her dad’s own guitars that he used to take on the road with him, the nicks and faded wood at the base of the bridge. 

“Y/N!” Her dad’s voice fell through the silence of the room as he re-entered. He was wearing his favorite old UCLA shirt, where she’d just graduated from not too long ago. “Home earlier than usual. Was going to give you a heads up about this one,” he pointed to Harry then, “but I see you’ve already found out.”

Her eyes drifted to Harry, who stood awkwardly next to the couch, unsure if he should sit or stand. “Finished my projects early and didn’t have any meetings, so thought I’d get out early and surprise you.”

“Well,” her father said, giving her a quick hug, “glad you did. I’m getting hungry, how about you?” She nodded, she was always ravenous after work. “Harry, would you want to stay for dinner?”

No, she thought. The last thing she wanted was to sit at a table with a guy she’d rejected and her father and eat an awkward dinner on a Friday night. She just wanted a massive glass of red wine, her delicious romance novel from her bedside table, and maybe lighting a fire in the pit in the backyard. 

Instead, Harry said, “Sure. Don’t want to impose though.”

“Nonsense! Y/N why don’t you go change and Harry and I can tidy up from working. We were about done anyway.” Her dad kissed the top of her head sweetly and she just did as he said, Harry a forgotten thought behind her as she went to her room upstairs. 

It was her childhood bedroom which she had been residing in for a month now. How her landlord could put her out for this long was beyond her, but she hadn’t had the energy to fight it—plus, it was an opportunity to spend some quality time with her workaholic father. So she was spending her evenings in her light blue colored room, sleeping between her soft pink sheets, and picking her work clothes that butted up against remnants from high school she’d left behind as memories. Y/N pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt that probably belonged to an ex-fling from college—Daniel maybe? Y/N couldn’t remember. Slipping on a pair of socks to keep her feet warm from the tile floors of the kitchen, she left her room, tugging her door shut so if Harry went exploring he wouldn’t stumble into her room. 

Downstairs, Harry was sat at the kitchen island with a glass of wine and a smile on his face, deep in conversation with her dad about Fleetwood Mac’s chord progressions. A glass of red was waiting for her on the counter and she picked it up, wandering over to where her dad was cooking

“Whatcha making?” She asked, peeking into the pot. 

“Pasta,” he replied. “Now stop being a nosy Nelly and talk to our guest while I try to focus on not burning the pasta.”

“Dad you haven’t even put it in yet.”

Her dad shooed her from the stove and she chuckled, backing away. “Get out of here, ya pest.”

She turned to Harry, realizing her dad was actively trying to get them to hang out. He was so annoying sometimes. “How do you feel about a fire?”

“Positively,” he answered and she led him outside into her backyard. 

It was chilly out, but nothing too bad. She set her glass on the table and went over to the stack of wood her dad kept against the fence, picking up some logs and carrying them over to the fire pit they’d had for years. At first it was so Y/N could roast marshmallows at home, her father trying to do anything to get her to come over to his house more after the divorce, and as time had gone on it had become her favorite place in the whole house. When her dad was out of town and she came over to check up on the house in high school, she’d bring her weed and smoke out here under the stars. 

Harry sidled up next to her and picked up a few logs, following her to the fire pit. “This is cool,” he said, words breaking their silence. 

Y/N dropped the logs into the fire and looked up at him. “Favorite part of the whole house.” A box of matches sat next to the door and she grabbed them, as well as some kindling, and brought it over to the logs, setting the kindling under the logs before lighting them. The fire leaped up, the wood nice and dry from the lack of rain recently. “So, who got in touch with who?”

Harry looked at her in confusion. “Huh?”

She settled into one of the chairs set by the fire, wine tucked between her fingers. “The writing. You or my dad?”

“Oh,” he answered, joining her in the chair next to her. “Me, actually. Through Jeff.”

As expected. “And?”

“He’s really good,” Harry said, to which Y/N chuckled. 

“That he is.”

“What was it like growing up with him as your dad?” He asked, breaking the silence between them.

Y/N shifted in her chair. She’d been asked this question so many times over the years, but it still was hard to answer. “Hard, if I’m being honest,” she told him, truth surprising her. But she had a feeling Harry would get it to a certain extent. He was a hugely popular star, after all. She’d heard rumors that he was a part of a movie coming out this year, something historical. “Like, my parents are divorced, which I assume you know.” He nodded,  probably having figured it out by now. “And with my dad’s tour schedule when I was in school, I didn’t see him all that much, especially in elementary and middle school. He was gone all the time, even missed my birthday a couple times because of tour dates, so I just didn’t really know him that well, I guess. Fuck, sorry, this is a lot,” she breathed out, realizing she was rambling. Harry was just surprisingly easy to talk to, his eyes steady on her, intently listening to her every word. Boys didn’t usually listen to her like this.

“S’fine,” he replied. “When did it change, if you don’t mind me asking? Seem so close now.”

The fire, having grown by now, crackled in front of them. “Late high school, but mainly when I was in college. My mom moved to San Francisco for a job and I went to UCLA, so my dad was closest. Came over to do my laundry sometimes, have a home cooked meal, he’d take me to dinner, that stuff. Came to football games with me, sometimes, which he always tried to be interested in but never succeeded.” Harry chuckled at that and Y/N smiled at the sound. Harry was obnoxiously pretty. Like, impossibly pretty in this way where you couldn’t help but look at him again to make sure that yes, he was a real person. And it was really fucking distracting. “His touring kind of stopped when I went into college too,” she added, trying to refocus on the conversation. “Started writing mainly, putting out music only when it suited him. He’s a lot happier now, I think.”

“That’s good,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “I’m glad you guys were able to have that kind of relationship, even if it was later.”

Y/N blinked at him, his words so kind and honest. “Me too.”

“Always been one of my fears, if I’m being honest,” he said, words soft in the cool night air. Sun was starting to set and it was getting dark around them, the light of the fire putting an orange ember to his face. “About having kids with my career, you know? I want to be a dad, but it’s like…how do I do that while being gone all the time?” His honesty shocked her, but then again Harry Styles seemed to be excelling at that in every regard. “Sorry, that’s a lot to unload on you.”

“No it isn’t,” she reassured him. “Just told you about all my daddy issues, yeah?” He chuckled, and it lightened the mood just enough. “You’ll figure it out.”

Harry nodded, taking another sip of his wine and she did the same. It was her favorite, the one her dad bought multiple of whenever she came to stay. Even though they’d gotten closer over the years, his desire to make his house perfect for her never seemed to fade. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Shoot.”

“The rule—I—why is that?”

Well, fuck. This was the exact conversation she didn’t want to have, the one she was hoping he wouldn’t bring up. “It’s actually related to what you were just saying,” she said slowly. He’d get it after everything she’d explained and the fears he shared, right? “I don’t date musicians because they’re always gone.”

Harry was quiet, absorbing her answer. It was true, they always were gone—she had every right to her rule, she told herself. She didn’t want a repeat of what her parents had experienced, what she’d experienced. Her dad’s job had ruined everything in their family, ripping her parents apart, keeping him away from her for more of the year than he was home. She didn’t want the same thing for her kids. “That’s a pretty broad stroke, isn’t it?” Harry said though, pushing back against her. “Like all musicians. Kinda a generalization ‘bout us.”

“You said it yourself,” she said, leaning forward in her chair and resting her elbows on her thighs. “You’re gone all the time. How do you build a life with someone who isn’t there half the time?”

“Devil’s advocate,” Harry said, setting his wine on the arm of his chair, “but hypothetically you’re dating someone who tours all the time. But they make you a priority, coming home and seeing you, putting your relationship first. That wouldn’t matter? You wouldn’t even take the chance that it could work out okay?”

This time it was Y/N who was quiet. “I mean, musicians only have so much control over their schedules,” she said, remembering the excuses her dad used to tell her. “Plus, it’s not the relationship that’s the problem. It’s the part when you get to marriage and kids.”

“…So it’s better to just avoid the whole thing entirely?”

Y/N nodded, her logic laid out in front of her. She’d never had to do this before—most times, guys just took her at her word and dropped it all together. Harry pushed though, wanting to understand in a way the others didn’t care enough to do. “It’s safer.”

“But then you miss out on the opportunity to fall in love with someone,” Harry says, his words like rocks in her stomach. “And what if that person was a musician?”

Y/N had a feeling they were no longer talking in hypotheticals. “We can fall in love with tons of different people.”

“No soulmates and shit for you, then?” She shook her head. She didn’t believe in all that crap, never had. Relationships were about work, effort, time. The person was important, but the life that person led mattered more to her. How much they’d prioritize the relationship, the kind of life they wanted to build. “That’s kind of depressing,” Harry said. 

The fire crackled and popped. “I don’t think so. It’s…practical.”

“Love isn’t supposed to be practical, Y/N.”

Y/N found herself speechless. She didn’t have an answer for him. She’d never been in love before, that was for sure. Hadn’t found that kind of love that people like Harry write songs about and she’d often found herself wondering when it was going to happen for her. There just hadn’t been any guys that were right for her yet. 

“Y/N! Harry!” She turned and her dad was in the doorway, pasta sauce splattered on his shirt. He’d always been a messy cook. “Dinner’s ready.”

Y/N took one last look at Harry before grabbing her wine and heading inside, Harry following at her heels. 

After dinner, Harry decided this was his last chance at Y/N. He couldn’t exactly use the same excuse twice and after understanding her rule, he was determined to be the exception. He helped Y/N clear the plates while her dad settled in at the TV in the other room, telling them it was his time to watch the nightly news and they could clean up since he had cooked. Harry had missed being in a home like this, the kind where he got told to clean up from dinner and there was calm and normal conversation at the table, Y/N talking about her day at work and Harry sharing about his activities from his mum’s visit. It brought him a kind of peace he didn’t know he needed. 

The plate clattered on the counter as he set it down, Y/N turning, her hands soapy with the water from the dishes. “Gonna break our dishes,” she said with a snort. “Be careful, please.”

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly. He’d cleared the table, so he grabbed a dish rag from the peg and joined Y/N at the sink, taking the clean dishes from the rack and drying them, stacking them on the counter since he didn’t know where they belonged in the cabinets. 

They worked in silence, the only sound her dad’s TV from the other room. He could hear Rachel Maddow’s show on NBC, the same one he liked to watch, learning from her commentary on American politics that he was still trying to wrap his brain around. 

“Y/N,” he said when they’d finished the dishes. “I promise I heard everything you said earlier.” She looked at him with curiosity in her eyes, trying to figure out where he was going with this. Harry tried to pick his words delicately, wanting to make sure she knew he did hear her, he was just entranced by her and couldn’t give her up. “But what is the likelihood you would be willing to give it a shot? With me?”

She took the dish towel from his hands and dried her own, considering his words. The waiting was killing him, but he didn’t want to rush her. He knew what her worries were and he was asking her to put them aside. 

“We’ll take it slow,” he told her, stumbling over the words. “Promise. You set the pace, you decide about commitments. I just…” Can’t stop thinking about you.

But then Y/N surprised him by saying, “I know. I feel that way too.” His eyes widened, not believing the words from her mouth. “I’ll give it a shot,” she said slowly. “Better make the date good.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t ask again unless you’d like me to change my mind.”

“Can I get your number then?” She nodded and read it off, Harry typing the numbers into his phone next to her name. Then Harry shut up and just smiled at her, following her like a puppy dog into the other room where her dad sat watching TV. She curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket her dad had so it would cover part of her and his heart softened at how sweet she looked. He loved seeing her like this, at home, comfortable in her space. “I’m going to head out,” he said. “Thank you so much for dinner, Peter.”

Y/N’s dad turned from the TV and gave him a wide smile. “Of course, Harry. You’re welcome anytime—wouldn’t want you to get lonely out here!”

His eyes drifted to Y/N and he knew that with her around, there was never anyway he could be lonely.

TAGLIST

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019

Would you like to know when I update The Only Exception? Let me know here!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 4TH @ NOON CST

[nowandajenn]

Hard To Get

Pairng: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: None, except for Chris being doggedly persistent lol

Chris watches as you and a group of your best friends come into the bar, laughing and joking, arms slung over each other’s shoulders. 

“Hey, Mike! How are ya?” one of the girls calls out, smiling ear to ear. 

“Better than some, worse than others….” Mike, the owner says. 

“Annoyed by all!” you both say in unison, laughing. 

Mike turns to the server, a young guy in his late 20s who’s only been working there for about two weeks. 

“You give this girl whatever she wants tonight, on the house. It’s her birthday.” he says. 

You step forward and press a big kiss to his cheek and throw your arms around him. 

“You’re the best!” you exclaim. 

Chris doesn’t know exactly what it is exactly that draws him in; if it’s your smile, or the way you laugh, or if it’s the mischevious twinkle in your eye, but all he knows is he wants more. 

45 minutes later, Chris is watching as you’re bent over the pool table in the corner, trying to find the perfect angle to take your shot. You’re not dressed to the nines or anything, but you make a pair of skinny jeans that make your ass pop, and a purple sequined halter top that affords him a nice view of your cleavage look like the most amazing outfit in the world.

“Would you just go over and talk to her already?” Josh asks him.

“I’m working up to it.” Chris says defensively. 

“Well, you better hurry it up before this place closes and you lose your chance forever.”

“Not forever. She obviously comes in here a lot. She seems like she knows the owner pretty well.”

“Yeah, but knowing your luck, you won’t be back in town for months, and by that time, she might be coming in with a new boyfriend. So just shoot your shot already.” 

“You’re a real dick, you know that?”

Josh just smirks. 

You sit down at the bar to take a break from dancing and to order some wings and more drinks for you and your friends. After a spectacularly shitty week that saw you passed over for a promotion that you deserved and being stood up by a blind date (never again), spending your birthday out with your best girlfriends is the perfect way to unwind and forget about it all. 

You’re waiting for your food and sipping your beer when a guy who looks remarkably like Chris Evans sits down next to you. 

“Hey, can I get a Stella?” he asks the bartender. He nods and gets the beer from the cooler and then pops the top and sets it in front of him. 

“Cheers.” he says. You flash him a smile and touch your bottle of Sam Adams to his beer before you both take a drink. 

“So, I heard it’s your birthday.” he says. 

You laugh and look down at your watch. 

“Only for another half an hour, technically.” you tell him. 

“It’s my birthday too.” 

“No kidding?” you ask. 

“Nope. 39.” 

You laugh. “Prove it.”

He pulls out his ID, holding his thumb over the address as you scan it. 

Holy shit, this IS Chris Evans!!

Your eyes settle on the date of birth, and sure enough, it’s June 13th, 1981. 

“Well, happy birthday to us.” you say with a grin, and you clink your bottle against his once more. 

“Did you want to dance?” Chris asks. 

“Oh…..I…..” you turn around and look towards where your friends are congregated. 

“I’m really flattered, I am, but I don’t want to be an asshole and bail on my friends, you know?” 

You feel bad immediately when you see his face fall slightly. 

“It’s okay. I understand. You should go have fun. You’re only young once.” he tells me. 

You apologize once more before slipping off the barstool and heading back to your friends.

2am finds you outside, sweaty and needing some fresh air after dancing your ass off without taking a break. 

You’re just about to light your cigarette when you hear a voice coming from your left side. 

“Can I bum a smoke?” 

You almost drop your lighter; you really thought you were the only one out here.

“Jesus Christ, make a noise!” you say, holding your hand over your heart. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Chris says. 

You fish your pack out of your purse and pull out a cigarette and hand it to Chris and then hand him your lighter. 

“You smoke but you don’t carry cigarettes?” you ask. 

“I’m more of a social smoker. I try not to make it a habit.” he explains. 

You make small talk as you smoke, and you laugh at his cheesy dad jokes. He really is cute and funny and charming, but you’re really not looking for anything right now. Especially not with someone famous. You can only imagine what a headache THAT must be. 

“So, you ready to dance with me now?” he asks, smirking. 

You laugh. “My God, you are tenacious as hell.” 

He shrugs. “Well, I didn’t get this far in life by being shy and keeping quiet. I don’t know what it is….but I saw you and my heart just kind of skipped. I know that sounds so stupid and cliche’, but something just drew me to you.” he says. 

You sigh. 

“Can I be really honest with you?” you ask. 

He nods. 

“I’m coming off of a really shitty week. Actually, it’s been a pretty shitty year. It’s kind of just been a string of disappointments all in a row. And I promised myself that I would start off 35 the right way. I’m going to find a new job, I’m not going to get wrapped up in guys and their bullshit. I’ve spent way too much time focused on other people and their happiness, that I’ve completely ignored my own. I like you. I really do, but I’m just not looking to fall into the same habits. It’s nothing against you. It’s just the fact that I’ve been burned one too many times and I’m kinda over it.” 

“I get it. Honestly, I do. Trust me, I’ve been where you are now. It’s exhausting being hurt so many times.” he says. 

Before you can say anything else, he gives you a beautiful smile before stubbing out his cigarette and turning to go back inside. 

Again, you feel like an asshole. 

About thirty minutes before last call, all hell breaks loose. Your friends have all decided to call it a night, citing early mornings and needing to relieve babysitters as reasons for bailing, but you’ve decided to stick around a little longer. 

A group of really drunk dudes have decided to throw down and you’re just desperately trying not to get in the way. You don’t feel like being smooshed to death by one of the assholes. 

A beer bottle gets thrown your way, and before you can even wince or make a move, you’re hitting the floor and there’s a huge weight on top of you. You crack one eye open to see what’s happening, to find Chris on top of you. 

“Hi.” you breathe out. 

“Hi. Sorry. I saw that bottle headed your way, and I just kind of….”

“Decided to throw yourself on me?” you ask, laughing. 

He looks down, between himself and you and shrugs. 

“Pretty much, yeah.” 

By the time you both get up off the floor, the fight has broken up, and the offending parties have been escorted out. 

“Thank you. For saving me from death by beer bottle.” you tell him. 

“I don’t think it would have been THAT bad, honestly.” he chuckles. 

“Still….thank you.”

You don’t know what comes over you, but you raise up on your toes and press a soft kiss to Chris’ lips. 

The two of you just stand there for a moment, staring at each other, trying to process exactly what just happened. 

“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t-”

You don’t get a chance to finish because Chris wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer before pressing his lips against yours, and kissing you soundly. 

By the time you break apart for air, they’re calling last call, and you’re trying to get the oxygen back to your brain. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” 

You nod. “Mmmhmm. Yeah. I do.” 

 The Usual Suspects: @averyrogers83 @wordywarriorwrites @imanuglywombat @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @hlkwrites @reminiscingrogers @mom—nicole @jtargaryen18 @alexakeyloveloki @kelbabyblue @sarahp879 @moonlessnight14 @mojean13 @mrskokitztelford @artisticrogers1972 @southerngracela @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @mybesttobobcratchit @gracethegeek9902 @mdemontespan1667 @marvelfansworld @capslut2014 @dispatchvampire @jamielea81 @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @southerngracela​ @what-is-your-plan-today @letsdisneythings​ @theladybiers @lexeeehhh @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @autumnrose40 @donutloverxo​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @jessayw

@smediumsmeatbae

Kinktober 2020: @saiyanprincessswanie​ @superquirky-blog

[felassan]

Highlights and insights from the MELE launch cast & crew reunion panel

[rewatch link] [highlights & insights from the N7 Day 2020 reunion]

In case a text format is better for anyone (in terms of accessibility for example). Cut for length.

Some paraphrasing.

If anyone’s interested in just the line-reading session, it starts at timestamp ~1:04:45.

In addition to the cast and crew from the N7 Day reunion, at this reunion also in attendance were: 

Mac Walters (Project Director for MELE, Lead Writer of the og MET)

Melanie Faulknor (Lead Producer for MELE)

Crystal McCord (Producer for MELE)

Fred Tatasciore (Saren)

Seth Green (Joker)

Kimberly Brooks (Ash)

Ash Sroka (Tali)

This was the biggest reunion / meetup of the cast so far, and some of the cast and crew were meeting for the first time here.

It’s been so long since the og MET that PW & KW are getting to watch their kids experience playing it for the first time

JHale doesn’t play but since MELE she’s been sneaking around Twitch jumping into peoples’ MELE livestreams to lurk, watch and comment a bit

What drew Seth to the character of Joker? The whole concept of the game. He likes games and MET’s mechanics (different trees of adventure, stacking reputation, choices carrying between games) at the time were the most sophisticated that he’d ever heard pitched. He thought this was new and exciting and wanted to be a part of it. For the character they cast him based on his personality traits (i.e. he sounds quite similar to Joker personality-wise)

Would Seth ever want to play Joker again if the opportunity presented itself? Sure, he loves the character, and if the writers ever had more things to explore/expand with Joker he’d be down for it. 

Seth said that it’s a different kind of fan that approach him about this project. The fans have spent many many hours in an intimate exchange with “him” that he hasn’t been a part of, but they experienced it nonetheless. “I’ve hugged a lot of strangers, you know what I’m saying? It’s great, you get an interaction with fans that you never get as a performer in any other experience”

Seth has been a space guy since he was little, it inspires him

With the state of the world the way it is now [covid, masks etc], does Ash think Tali’s story will be more impactful now than it was before? Ash hopes so, and that anything they do here will have a positive impact on a bigger level. Ultimately that’s why most of them do what they do, they want to reach people in deep ways. She hopes Tali is an inspiration in courage, bravery, standing up for what’s right and thinking about the greater good

The [MELE I think] dev team had a last team meeting with Greg Zeschuk, one of the founders of BioWare, who they had invited to it. He was regaling them with stories of the inception of Mass Effect. “You would imagine this sort of well-laid out, drawing boards everywhere... [but] it was basically just a napkin sketch in a Greek taverna with him and Casey going ‘We wanna do a space opera’, and then it took off”

The process of creating lore through development is very organic. A lot of it comes from character and story development. It builds up over the course of the game’s development. They did the codex entries at the end, the idea being that if they saved them for as late as they could, then they could pull from the story, characters and meaningful moments, and build them from there

PW wrote a bunch of the codex entries, elevator banter & lots of little bits of lore. They describe their time on the og MET as being a “baby writer”. They originally came in after Mac had back surgery and a junior writer was needed to fill in. “It was really fun, it was us sitting in a room together going ‘What do you think a hanar or a krogan thinks about this or that’?” For a first project for them this was an amazing experience - the world building itself creatively with all these awesome people

They tried to add multiplayer in every game but only got it to work in ME3

They had a lot of plots laid out in ME1 that they called “global plots”. These were outside the core critical path and would take players from planet to planet, and were sprawling stories. They pulled out a lot of really interesting concepts and ideas from these that did make it into the game, but all of the global plots ended up getting cut due to time. Mac still has old diagrams and spreadsheets which detailed how all of these would have come together

Q. If you all had to take a long-distance road-trip with two squadmates, who would you take and why? PW: “Jack and Mordin. Mordin because the drive would never lack for things to talk about at length quickly, Jack because you know you wouldn’t pay for the room. You wouldn’t know how you’d get the room, but you wouldn’t be paying for it.” Courtenay: “I’d take Mordin because there’d be singing, and FemShep just to have this thing - happen. In the room that I get for free.” JHale at this point fistpumped while saying “Yeess” [then I think what she said was “steaming hot”]

Seeing as asari are long-lived, how open is Ali to one day reprising her role as Liara? “She’s a character very close to my heart, it was such a great opportunity. In some games that we work on the character has already been created or voiced by someone else, but this was really a group effort. When I first went into the booth, the only thing I’d seen of her was a sort of like, rendering, and we slowly kind of came to her voice and presence. I would love to bring Liara back any time... hey, she can live a really long time guys. :D”

Caroline and people who do what she does (Creative Performance Director) are so critical to the quality of games. Caroline: “This group of people are extraordinary. We were lucky to have such an extraordinary cast. Every [recording] session was new and challenging. It was a labor of love. I’m tearing up right now thinking about it. I’m remembering my last session with Jen, she was the last session, just sobbing and sobbing”. When JHale was trying to say the lines of Shepard’s goodbye with Garrus, a line hit her like a tonne of bricks and she was in tears and was like “Shepard does not cry”. “It took me a second, I got it out and took another run at it, it was in there but stuffed down as it should have been, and I finished the line [and there was silence in the booth when usually Caroline would have been talking to give direction or instruction] Did we lose her? Did Skype crash?” and it transpired that what had happened was that Caroline was in floods of tears

ME was the first time Keythe had ever come across branching dialogue. “Normally when we work on a script and it’s from page 1 to 100. In this it was get to page 5, then go back to page 2 and play it a little differently. The skill and the fun and joy of it was to be able to go back and play a scene in a different way, with different writing, with different outcomes. This was not only a challenge but a real treat. So to all the writers who dreamed up how this build-your-own-adventure plays out, you have my undying respect. It was a real pleasure”

VEDA is a proprietary system that BW use to record the dialogue, which is the closest way of having it feel like having people in the booth together (it’s all digital and VAs get to hear the line someone else has done in that scene). Caroline really pushed for this because of the amount of time etc that was wasted due to lack of this sort of thing on ME1. William: “It was a god send for me, thank you, getting to hear a cue from Jen or Mark.” Ali: “Us being able to bounce off each other helps make it more real. This for me was the most real acting experience on a game I had ever had - the writing being so good, Caroline helping us through, being able to hear each other.” JHale was always early coming in to record relative to the others so only got to use VEDA a few times - a bit of Liara content and the scene with Anderson towards the end. “Those two times, oh my god it was amazing”. VEDA being a thing also helps from a scheduling standpoint

Seth and Tricia Helfer (EDI) only got to be in the booth actually together 1 time, to record/shoot a piece of promotional video. “We actually got to record a scene together and we were like ‘oh my god this is the best thing ever’. It was great, even though I had to stand on a stool. She’s the best”

Seth: “As an actor, the kind of opportunity to do this kind of material in games just didn’t exist.” Fred: “Oh, never! I had never had a villain part that was complicated like that. In a game? Never before, it was really interesting”

Raphael always goes back to the fact that ME brought more women into gaming than any other game before it. “The writing and the complexity of the relationships gave us so much ballast”. “This set this apart from running, shooting, gunning, looting”

JHale: “What I noticed in the times before when I got to be around fans, there was a huge hunger among women in the gaming world for something they could really jump into. They were starving for something which fed them what they deserved and needed”

Mac: “[praising Caroline] Caroline would often come to us as writers and challenge us and say, as an example, ‘Do we really need another male character to do this? Why are we writing another male character for this?’ She pushed that very early and to the betterment of everything we created”

PW: “Karin and Cookie and all of the editors across the trilogy, [were critical in] making sure that Shepard sounded consistent - [especially since] we had a large writing team, writers came and went, Mac is the only one with a significant writing contribution on each of the games”

PW: “[on game dev] It’s a process of getting hundreds of people pointed in the same direction, all believing that this is something worth doing”

Ash: “Having all the different possibilities and avenues, going back to play them all out in the different ways [really helped to round the character of Tali out and make her feel like a natural person]”.

VAs only get paid for the original recording sessions, not again (as in they don’t any royalties or anything from something like the remaster)

In MELE, they left all the original credits at the end of each game in

Fred: “It’s creating in five dimensions [because of all the outcomes and relationships etc]”. Seth: “The cool thing is that the audience feels that. They’re immediately struck by how dense, thought-out, prepared and planned the entire universe is”

How was it for the new MELE devs coming onto this? Crystal: “I knew it [the series and fans’ love for it] was big, but I didn’t know it was BIG! Working on MELE there was this infectious excitement. Being part of it was so exciting.” Melanie: “I came on at ME3, I had a 3 or 4 year honeymoon period with BioWare. Coming onto MELE, I’m getting really emotional. One of my first meetings originally was going into a cinematic review for an epic Tali scene in ME3”. Crystal: “On MELE, we had an hour or 2 every day where the team came together to play the game. In those reviews, a lot of the devs who worked on the original would tell all these stories. It was really fun to hear all the inside stories on ME’s creation and be a part of that”

DC: “Should this unit get vaccinated?” Ash: “Of course”

How do they think ME will be viewed in the next 10-20 years, what do they think its legacy will be? A piece of history, ground-breaking. It broke down some barriers and opened doors for people. It’s a powerful, powerful community. It’ll continue to age quite well and be enjoyed by a new generation, it’s original and evergreen and there’s a lot in it that people go back to. There’s a lot of universal things in it (personal experiences, like there will always be love, people fighting to belong, trying to make sense of their pasts etc)

JHale and Alix did the “I love you Shepard, now go save the world again” Shep-Sam exchange and both got teary. It was then Seth’s turn to line-read: “Jesus Christ, now that I’m good and choked up, fucking mess”. Ali was also actually crying from it

Seth: “It can’t be overstated, this community is so large and global, it is one of the most powerful fandoms that I’ve ever been greeted with. Thank you”. Ash: “It’s the most amazing group of fans ever. We’re all so grateful”

Some funny anecdotes/stories:

PW didn’t realize that Alix could do different accents. They remember a time when they were listening in the booth and an Alliance soldier was complaining about the gear had been given. They said “Wow that’s really good, who is that?” and the VO producer said “That’s Alix, Patrick”, “because she wasn’t doing her [normal British accent but was doing a Californian accent instead]. Alix roasted me later for not recognizing her voice and never let me heard the end of it”

Alix: “[on Sam’s toothbrush] Caroline’s like, ‘So then she pulls her toothbrush’ and I’m like ‘What? Sorry? A toothbrush?’ and obviously it’s funny now as everyone knows that Sam’s thing is her toothbrush. Caroline’s like ‘Yeah, you’ve gotta like, flirt, over the toothbrush’ and I’m like ‘Who wrote this - a frickin toothbrush, are you kidding me? Really guys?’ ANYWAY. I was wrong and it worked. :D”

Fred: “I remember a 12 year old kid coming up to me and being like [flat tone] ‘Oh yeah. I killed you’.”

Keythe: “The other assasin I play is Kellogg in Fallout 4. People come up to me like ‘Omg. I love you so much. And then I fucking KILLED you!’”

Courtenay once went out to dinner in NZ with a few prominent people from the Game of Thrones cast. “Everyone around was making a big deal out of it like ‘Omg, it’s so-and-so from GoT’. I was feeling a bit like ‘Hi, I’m here, just nobody’. And I looked around in the restaurant and there's one guy in the corner and he’s got an N7 shirt on and he’s just looking at me like [knowing look, does a peace sign]. And I’m like ‘I got one! I love you guys!’”

PW: “I have a question for the cast members, because I don’t know if JHale has done this to all of you or if she just does it to the devs. Show of hands if Jen has ever made you do push-ups.” JHale: “It’s just you guys”

Karin: “One of my favorite editing files that I ever had was a ME file. It was before Seth was coming in for a session. I opened it up and it was just 20, 25 lines with the word ‘Shit’, over and over again, and I was like, ‘This file is perfect, I don’t need to do anything to it, have fun!’”

Seth: “Didn’t we do a track that’s like 60 seconds of laughing? Escalating laughing? I don’t know about other actors but for me getting into a laughing fit is kind of like trying to get into a crying fit, it takes the same level of commitment, you start to follow a path until like you’re hysterically uncontrollably laughing. I remember looking through the glass, and I’m deep in it at this point, and I make eye contact, and I can see from the other side of the booth and they’re like [making ‘okay you can stop’ now gestures] - ‘Like that’s plenty, we got it’ and I was like ‘okay, okay [dying]’”

JHale: “The craziest thing Mark and I had to deal with was how many times we had to say ‘I should go’”. Mark: “We also, Caroline and I tended to use that as short hand when I needed to go to the bathroom”

The panel host: “The first time I interviewed Ali was a decade ago. She did the ‘I’ll flay you alive with my mind’ line halfway through, it was my first interview and I literally fell out of my seat [from being star-struck]”

Ash line-read Tali’s drunk omni-tattoo scene and in response DC said “I totally get why people wanna romanticize all these characters :D”. Karin: “We’ve had more than one person come up to us and show us actual tattoos that looked like that”

[source]

[holycow99]

石田お寿司 12/9/21 stream translation Part 8

This is not the full translation of the stream. I only translated the parts I could understand & interpret or parts I found interesting/important. I’m still a beginner in Japanese, so the translations may not be accurate. If you want to repost, please repost at your own risk.

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(t/n: ** means translation may not be accurate.)

*He started drawing choujin X.

I: I’m gonna do my work. It’s gonna be a work streaming onwards. Whoever is sleepy can sleep.

*Showing the screen.

I: This is the 2nd chapter. I’m doing this for the magazine. Even though I’ve done this chapter before, I’m still drawing it. This is what I’ve been doing.  Pitiful, isn’t it? I’m doing this because I want to though. Then, I’m gonna casually draw this for a bit.

C: Looks tough.

I: Not at all. Which page should I do? So exciting!

I: The bgm is called Cry by Queen Bee.

I: I wasn’t told to do this by Young Jump or anything. I voluntarily wanted to do it. I asked them to let me do it.

C: Tell us your favourite panel.

I: Hmm…I wonder. I don’t know.

I: I’ve been doing the manuscript by myself, along with the background as a challenge. When I was able draw the background pretty well, I thought, surprisingly, working this way was better. So, I got carried away and had fun drawing them. I drew too much to the point the pages piled up. It didn’t need these many pages. You can’t have these many pages for the comic, so it’s difficult. The 70 something pages for chapter 2 is gonna be compressed to fit the magazine. I feel embarrassed. I was like “what is this super big spread?!”

I: My goal is to update 3 chapters this month while creating chapter 2 ver 2, and there are coloured parts in between the pages for the magazine. I’m not supposed to do that either… It’s troublesome.

*Someone commented there’s a weird URL. (t/n: the highlight of the stream.)

I: There’s a weird URL? Should I delete it? Which one? Oh, it’s an R-18 URL. “Hot Girls and Boys”. This is definitely an adult URL! Maybe I should check out. Hahaha! I’ll pin this message! What should I do with it? Then…I’m blocking it.

C: Sensei, check it out for us.

I: I’ll take a look at it for a bit later. The virus might corrupt my manuscripts.

C: That’ll be a problem.

I: Do you mean me pinning the message? Oh, you mean my manuscript getting corrupted. That’s okay. It’ll be a corrupted version of chapter 2. The virus version. I have to quickly make ver.3 if that happens. Choujin X adult ver. Adult sites often put X in their URL. That kind of info came out when I searched about the letter ‘X’. Therefore, I wanna do that kind of collaboration, please. I’ll be waiting for it. To shueisha, To Ninohara Matsuo, please make it happen. I’m looking forward to your cooperation.

*Someone commented for him to try get his files corrupted by adult site’s virus for the 30,000 commemoration.

I: That’s a good idea! Try getting corrupted by pc virus. Let’s do it, by all means. Don’t hesitate to tell me any sites filled with virus.

*People commented they can see the comment being pinned.

I: It’s because it’s being pinned. Really? I can’t even unpin it! Why? Amazing. The comment is strong. How about If I randomly pin another comment? Is there any interesting comment? MM, comment something interesting.

*The comments had already been unpinned.

I: I don’t know whether MM is still here or not. They must use the word ‘On the contrary’ in the comment. Something like, “On the contrary, adult sites are…” That person only comment contradictory stuffs.

C: MM’s syntax.

I: That’s a nice one. “On the contrary,…” even though it isn’t. Has MM gone? I’m curious. Maybe he’s thinking of what “on the contrary” stuff to comment. “On the contrary, open the URL.” Haha. “On the contrary, try getting corrupted by the virus.” On the contrary, how about I spread the virus to you guys? You’ll see adult stuffs if you open it.

*Someone commented Ishida would be on Yahoo News if that happened.

I: That’s good. Let’s do it. I’ll add trying to spread the virus into the 30,000 subscribers’ commemoration proposal.

C: I can’t handle the virus.

I: That’s right. The pc will be heavy if there’s virus.

*Someone asked why he wanted to be a mangaka.

I: I’ve told this before, but because I didn’t wanna get a job. I thought it’d be easy being a mangaka. Then, I thought of retiring when I was in my 30s after I’ve earned enough money. Haha. I thought of having an easy life. These were my thoughts when I was 19. But reality is…how do I put it? There’s still more to life.

C: Is it as what you’ve planned?

I: Is it? I did become a mangaka. I’m amazed by that fact. I wondered whether I was gonna be one when I was aiming for it. I thought of being a mangaka and I really did become one.

C: What anime did you obsessed with lately?

I: I don’t have one. I’ve been watching movies only. I watch them if the anime is the laid-back, calming type.

*Ishida mentioned that Goubaru started doing something so passionately, but he couldn’t understand why Goubaru’s doing it. Goubaru tried to explain to Ishida but he was unable to understand what he’s doing anymore in the end. Ishida ended up giving advice to Goubaru.

(t/n: I couldn’t translate the part above properly, so I just summarized it.)

* The adult websites comment came back in the chat.

I: It’s here again. This thing is super famous. I’ve blocked them though. Should I block it? How should I do it? Report it or using moderator? What is moderator? Something like a management or some sort? Would it disappear if I report it?  

C: Moderator is someone who’d ban it for you.

I: I see. A guard. That’s good. But if the moderator is a nasty person, like S******, they’ll ban stuffs randomly. They’ll be playing around with it.

*Talking about the weird comment again.

I: Erotic websites also appear in my stream. Isn’t it amazing? The only thing I’ve got before was a URL for a ramen blog. I should’ve taken a look at the site secretly after that. It was a ramen blog, but the name of the blog was something related to excretion.

*Ishida imitating the ramen blog’s comment.

I: “I’ve written reviews about ramen that I ate.” The content is okay, but the blog name is…, but he might’ve been a good person. But he’s probably not if he put out his url there. Like what are you trying to promote? I’m still regretting not taking a look at it.

*Ishida finding page to draw.

I: I’ll draw this. It looks fun. Is it okay for me to show these drawings? Well, you’re gonna read this in Tonari Young Jump in the end. I’ve drawn it, so it’s okay.

C: Until what time are you gonna stream?

I: I haven’t decided it.

C: You’ve been streaming for almost 4 hours.

I: That’s nice. This can be a record.

*Someone asked if he’s day and night became reverse when working at home.

I: Yes, definitely. That’s basically what’s happening now. I’m currently a nocturnal maybe. I wake up at wrong hours.

*Searching for bgm

C: Please play something that wouldn’t get you banned.

I: I won’t be banned, but I’ll get a copyright notice, just like Juuzou’s video. I got a notice saying I wasn’t allowed to monetise the video. I wasn’t going to. I can’t play songs I usually play because of the copyright.

C: Try getting your account banned for the commemoration project.

C: Copyright is bothersome.

I: You can’t help it. Everyone is protected that way.

*Ishida forgetting Chandra/Chandler’s outfit.

I: Did he wear a tie? He does, doesn’t he? Ah, he does.

C: It looks like Animal Rap at a glance.

I: Quite a while ago, I forgot if it was the drawing stream or not, I was drawing while animal rap videos were playing, right? During the night of the day chapter 2 was released probably, I did a streaming with animal rap videos playing on the screen. I said I wanted to see the final battle. I thought of uploading animal rap video after the stream. Now, I can start uploading them. I’ll upload animal rap video while drawing Choujin X. Need to see the conclusion of it. Are you guys anticipating it? Haha. I’m the one who anticipates it the most.

C: I wan you to bring back the Vtuber.

I: That thing? It’s a nuisance. Hahaha.

C: Is the name of the smoke guy supposed to be Chandra or it is translation error?

I: Is there translation error? I don’t know though.

I: I’ve drawn until B Block’s match for Animal Rap. The 2nd match is over, so another 4 matches to go? Or 3 matches? Huh? Let me scribble (the matches’ chart) , since I’m dumb. It’s like this, right? Until which match did I draw? I’ve drawn the B Block’s matches but I haven’t uploaded them yet. So, I have another 3 matches. So fast! The first match was super long.

*Someone wanted Animal Rap to continue forever.

I: That’s tough. Endless stuffs are tough. It’s good because it ends.

Part 9

[electrictoes]

Maybe We Could Be

For @dailysvu's Amanda Rollins Week

Day 3: Friends to Lovers Characters: Amanda Rollins, Sonny Carisi, Minor OCs Relationship: Amanda Rollins / Sonny Carisi Warnings: None

Read on AO3

Amanda had a problem - it was a small, solvable problem, and she even had a plan for how to deal with it. Step one, though, was convincing Sonny to go along with it. Four years ago, she thinks, he would’ve jumped at opportunity, but now he was frowning at her across the room. “You want me to lie to your cousin?”

She crossed the short distance from the door to sit in the chair opposite him. “It’s not actually lying, you know,” she said.

“I think it technically is,” Carisi countered, looking over at her from behind his desk.

Amanda leaned forward on the desk, all but fluttering her eyelashes him, “Think of it as going undercover.”

“I’m not a cop anymore,” Sonny told her, leaning back in his chair. 

“What, so you’ve forgotten how to do it, is that what you’re saying?” She grinned at him like it was a challenge, but he didn’t take the bait.

“No, but this isn’t going undercover.”

“Sure it is - you’re undercover as my boyfriend.” Amanda caught the way his expression changed - almost minutely, his eyes widening slightly, his mouth dropping open for a microsecond before he closed it. “Come on, Dominick, please?”

He sighed, sitting upright. “I’m not sayin' no, I’m just sayin' it’s lying and I don’t know why you want to pretend to be somebody that you’re not,” his expression was serious, and she knew he meant what he was saying, “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your life - you’ve got a lot going for you.”

That stung a little - the accusation that she was ashamed - but she knew that he wasn’t exactly wrong about that - people who were content with their lives don’t ask their friends to be fake dates to dinner with their family members. “I didn’t say I was ashamed; I said, my cousin is coming to town and she will go back home with stories about how little Amanda still doesn’t have her shit together, and I’ll be getting phone calls, my mom and everyone… it’s just easier if Katie can go back to Georgia tellin’ everyone I’m happily shacked up with a nice guy.”

Sonny’s voice was low, concerned. “I thought you didn’t care what they thought?”

“I don’t…or at least, I try not to,” Amanda insisted, then reached over, laying her hand atop his where it rested idly on the desk. “But c'mon, it’ll be fun - you and me, playing romantic for the night.” 

He frowned, but he didn’t move away. “I don’t know.”

“What?” She asked playfully, “The idea of playing my boyfriend so horrifying to you?”

“Not the boyfriend part,” he shrugged, “The playing part.”

Amanda’s own mouth dropped open then, the humour from the moment gone as she looked at him. “Dominick-”  

He shook his head, “Look, I’ll do it… of course I’ll do it, you knew that before you walked in here. But I’m not - for the record - I’m not totally on board with pretendin’.”

 Despite his reservations, Sonny was definitely playing the part - he met her at her apartment, stopping by early enough say goodnight to the girls before they left; he was dressed to impress in a dark blue suit she hadn’t seen on him before - Katie’s fiance was an architect and they had chosen a fancier restaurant than Amanda would’ve expected, although admittedly she hadn’t seen Katie in person for almost ten years.

When she answered the door he didn’t react quite quickly enough to school his expression - she saw his eyes roam over her, and she found she didn’t mind - she returned the favour as he stepped into the apartment to say a quick hello to the girls while she grabbed her coat and bag.

She kissed both of the girls goodbye, and thanked Sienna before they left, ignoring the grins on both Jesse and Sienna’s faces as she followed Sonny out of the apartment. 

He reached for her arm once the door had closed behind them, resting his fingers just below her elbow as she turned to look at him, “Hey… you uh, you look- that’s,” he took a quick breath, “You look beautiful.”

Amanda was surprised to find herself feeling shy about the compliment, endeared by the awkward way he had stumbled over his words, the blush creeping across his cheeks. His fingers slipped from her arm, catching her own before he drew his hand back, her heart thudding in her chest at just that small amount of contact.

Step two of Amanda’s plan was simple - convince Katie she was madly in love with Sonny, which wasn’t going to be hard to do, and make sure she went back to Georgia with stories about how happy Amanda was. When Katie had called to say she coming up to New York for a long weekend with her fiance Amanda couldn’t find an excuse to decline the invitation - and she liked Katie; they’d never been close - Katie was ten years younger than her, and Amanda’s trips back to Loganville were few and far between once she moved to Atlanta; Katie had been just a kid at the time- but they got along fine. Amanda’s reluctance came less from not wanting to see Katie, and more from wanting to avoid yet more judgement - her mother, her aunts, cousins… everyone had an opinion on Amanda’s life and the choices they felt she’d made. Being a single mom with kids from two different fathers had rendered Amanda the topic of family gossip, and she was tired of it. She wished she didn’t care what they said about her, but no matter how far she ran and how much she tried to remold her life, there would always be a part of her that was the same angry seventeen year old kid who was trying to outrun a reputation she didn’t want anymore. 

Sonny held out a hand for her as they got out of the cab, and she took it gratefully, gripping a little tighter than she probably should’ve, trying to ground herself; if it bothered him, he didn’t show it. He led the way towards the restaurant and she tugged on his arm before he went in, stopping them where they stood. “Hey, Sonny.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said, voice low, “For this, and for, uh, for always having my back.”

He nodded, smiling down at her, “I know you already know what I think about this, and I’m gonna go along with whatever you want, but you don’t need to pretend to be anything you’re not, okay?”

“I know. I know, can we just… can you just be my boyfriend tonight? Be my partner, like you’ve always been?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but they were interrupted by a familiar voice, “Oh, Amanda!” Katie said as she approached them, and Amanda released Sonny’s hand to return the hug Katie gave her. 

When they pulled apart she saw Sonny was shaking hands with a tall, dark-haired man who Amanda presumed was Katie’s fiance. “I’m so excited to see you!” Katie enthused, “And who’s this?” she gestured towards Sonny - Amanda had told Katie she’d be bringing a date but hadn’t given any more information than that - and she was sure Katie’s mother and sisters would’ve had their own suggestions as to who Amanda’s date could be.

Sonny, prepared as ever, extended his hand to Katie, “Dominick Carisi,” he said with a smile, “I’m Amanda’s boyfriend.”

“Is that so?” Katie said as she shook his hand; she turned to Amanda and gave a wink so unsubtle Jesse could do better.  “This is my fiance, John,” she said, gesturing to the man with her.

“I figured,” Amanda said, shaking the hand he offered. “Nice to meet you.”

“Shall we?” Sonny gestured towards the door and Amanda took the opportunity to slide her hand back into his; nerves creeping up now that Katie was here and she was faced with keeping up a charade. Maybe Sonny had been right - maybe it was lying, but as he slipped his fingers into the gaps between hers, she wasn’t so sure that pretending they were together was an outright lie.

As they sat down to dinner, Amanda tried to keep the conversation light, tried to steer back to questions about Katie and John’s upcoming wedding, about their trip to New York, about family members back home. She didn’t know if Katie was genuinely curious or if she’d been instructed to find out as much as possible about Amanda’s life, but she was full of questions for Amanda herself.

She asked about the girls - how they were getting on, what they were interested in; it was all lighthearted and easy, until she turned towards Sonny, “And have you met the girls yet, Dominick?” she asked - Amanda could practically hear her Aunt Sarah in the question, and she frowned. Sonny, of course, wasn’t fazed.

“Yeah, I’ve known them their whole lives,” he said honestly. “They’re amazing kids.”

“Sonny is actually their godfather,” Amanda explained, “We, uh, we were friends for a long time before we got together… it just took us a while to admit to our feelings.”

“Oh right,” Katie said, “That’s great. It’s good to be friends first - John and I were friends in college.”

Amanda took the opportunity to ask Katie more about the two of them - and they made it partway through their main courses before the conversation drifted back to Amanda again. 

“How’s the detective thing going, Amanda? I still can’t believe you’re a cop, the stories Kim and Allie used to tell me when I was a kid!” 

“Um,” Amanda glanced sideways at Sonny, apprehensive about the stories Katie could tell; third-hand or not, they weren’t likely to portray her in the best light, "It's good."

Sonny reached over, putting his right hand on top of her left, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin, “Amanda actually got promoted last year,” he said, proudly. 

Amanda shrugged, “It was a long time coming, but yeah. Things are going really well at work,” she shared a small smile with Sonny, “Even if I still miss having this guy at my side.”

John turned towards Sonny, “You a cop too?” 

“Not anymore. I used to be - that’s how we met, but, uh, I’m a prosecutor now.”

“A lawyer?” Katie looked impressed - she gave Amanda yet another unsubtle look. That was a fact that would definitely be going back to Georgia with her.

“He’s a damn good ADA,” Amanda said; she turned her hand over beneath Sonny’s, lacing their fingers together. Her turn to be proud.

The rest of the meal was uneventful; whatever agenda Katie had been given by their family, it seemed to fade away as time went on - Sonny charmed Katie with ease and the conversation remained casual all the way through dessert. Sonny’s hand kept finding its way back to hers, and she was hyper-aware of his proximity, but she was enjoying it; that thought back in her head, that maybe this didn’t have to be a lie.

When they left the restaurant, they were headed in different directions, and Amanda broke away from Sonny to say goodbye to Katie - a lingering hug before Katie pulled back, smiling at her. “It’s so good to see you,” she said, “You’ll come to the wedding, right? You and the girls?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And bring him,” she nodded towards Sonny. 

“It might be a bit too soon for that,” Amanda deflected, not sure Sonny would agree to keep up the fake boyfriend ruse for the length of a trip to Atlanta.

Katie shook her head. “The way he’s looking at you? You might be engaged by then.”

Amanda turned her head, following Katie’s gaze towards Sonny - he was watching her, but his eyes dropped away when he saw he’d been caught out.

“Send me the invite, and I’ll RSVP once I know,” Amanda said, not wanting to explore Katie’s idea further. “It was great to see you,” she said, and she meant it - despite the third degree Katie had given them early on, she’d enjoyed their company, and she was glad that she’d accepted the invitation - and even more glad that Sonny had agreed to come along. 

As they bid goodnight to Katie and John, Sonny’s arm came around Amanda’s shoulders, and he didn’t remove it once they were out of sight. Amanda leaned into him, twisting to hug him properly - she’d meant it as a thank you hug, but he drew her in close enough that she caught the scent of his cologne, and she wound her arms up and around his neck. They were standing far too close now for pretence - and there was no excuse now either, no way she could convince herself this was part of their little undercover operation. 

Neither of them made a move to take things further, but they held each other close for a full minute before she broke away.

When she got into bed that night it was with a smile on her face and butterflies in her stomach - she felt like a kid again; fifteen years old and home from a first date with a boy who’d just about gotten up the courage to hold her hand. Hopes and possibilities swirling through her head, and she was too wrapped up in the memory of his arms around her to even chastise herself for the giddy, lovestruck somersaults her heart was doing.

When she stopped by his office the next day, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it as she had done earlier in the week; him watching her from his desk; a smile hiding behind the suspicion on his face. “What do you want me to do now?” he asked - the look on his face said he knew something was coming and he was resigned to the fact that he’d agree to whatever it was, so long as it would make her happy.

She was ready to throw him out of his groove, though.

“You were wrong,” she said, simply.

He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips, “And how do you work that one out?”

“It wasn’t lying. Last night, at dinner with Katie.”

He frowned, leaning forward again, and much as she’d done the last time they’d talked about this, she took the seat opposite him, a defiant look on her face. 

“It wasn’t lying because I wasn’t pretending. And I don’t think you were either.”

He took a second to respond, studying her face for a moment, uncertainty in his expression, “You wanna loop me in on what’s happenin’ here?”

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true the whole night - everything I said about how we met, how our relationship changed over time, none of that was a lie.”

In another echo of their earlier conversation, there was a brief second where his eyes widened; the disbelief on his face lingered longer this time, though. His voice was low when he responded, gesturing between them with his right hand, “I told her I was your boyfriend.”

“Maybe that wasn’t a lie,” she said, reaching across the desk and taking the hand he had in the air into her own, “Maybe it was just… a little early.”

“Amanda?”

“I wasn’t pretending to have feelings for you, Dominick,” she brought his hand down to the desk, their fingers still intertwined. 

“You, uh, you weren’t?” He asked, his eyes moving between her face and their joined hands.

“You said your problem with the whole thing was the pretence,” she said, struggling now to remember the words she’d rehearsed in her head on the way over here. “But I think we just haven’t, uh, admitted the truth to each other - about how we both feel, about how… how if we’re not together, we- we should be.”

Sonny smiled - at first, a small, giddy little smile, then a grin that was equal parts joy and mischief, “I’m pretty sure that still qualifies as lying,” he said, looking pleased with himself. 

“Don’t go all lawyer on me,” Amanda said, “Lose the argument for once; it might be worth it.”

 Four months later they flew down to Atlanta for Katie’s wedding. 

No undercover operation required. 

[jenthebug]

@emilyheals tagged me for 9 happy moments from 2020.

Much obliged!

1. Valentines Day. Life was still somewhat normal, at least in terms of Covid. Husband and I went to the Japanese arcade, wandered over to the microbrewery and pizzeria next door, had many many beers, and just enjoyed each other’s company and had fun.

2. Grocery store thank you cards. I switched to curbside pickup as soon as Covid became a thing, because my immune system is weak from chemo. One of the first observations I had when picking up groceries is that the job of delivering them has gotta suck. So I started drawing thank you cards. I draw one for every grocery pickup order.

3. I got a dishwasher! They say experiences bring more happiness than objects. This particular object gives me the experience of not having to hand-wash dishes every morning, so it brings me daily happiness.

4. Definitely NOT my colonoscopy, but guess what? Afterward, after more than 24 hours of not having solid food, after having a completely empty digestive system, I got a reward: Breakfast from the BEST diner. And when poor Husband needed a colonoscopy, I returned the favor. I have weirdly good memories of sitting around at home, eating pancakes and bitching about “the lemon dirt water from hell.”

5. Getting closer with Squish. New friend has been promoted to Best Friend! She’s so sweet and genuine, so caring, and I can’t wait to go back to hanging out with her all the time. She’s one of the few friends who rarely talks about my cancer. She’ll ask how I’m feeling and what I need, of course...and then go off about her sister or house hunting or work; or she’ll ask me about Momo or Jay or video games; and suddenly I’m pleasantly distracted and it’s awesome.

6. One particular day in the summer when everything was warm and bright and green and in bloom! I went to a park with Momo and walked around for about an hour, then sat and ate lunch and drew for about an hour. I reminded myself, “You’re gonna miss this when it’s cold and snowy.” (I really do.) I reminded myself, “You’re gonna miss this when you can’t go outside anymore.”

7. Halloween. I was Krillin! Jay was a plague doctor! We saw animals and hung out! After not seeing him for months at that point, it was so refreshing and so fun.

8. Finding GlitchCat7′s stream on Twitch: twitch.tv/glitchcat7 . He’s a kaizo Super Mario World player more than anything. Kaizo is basically virtuoso-level Super Mario World, played on homebrewed courses. It’s like the difference between some kid riding a snowboard down a green-circle hill, and Chloe Kim landing a 1080 on a halfpipe. It’s not just the tricks, though. Glitch is a genuinely cool, accepting, welcoming guy. When I told him that he’s the only person besides me that Jay follows on twitch, he sent Jay a care package full of merch and an encouraging note! So cool.

9. Drives with Jay. When he stays with me, we go for drives on weekends. We’ve been to Ft. Collins, Manitou Springs, Fairplay, and a loop around Laramie and Cheyenne (did not get out of the car in WY, their mask mandates are somewhere between LOL and NOPE). We found this funky metal dino and her funky metal baby in Manitou Spgs.

I tag (with no obligation, of course) @fatmaninalittlesuit @robinruns @gingermuscles @elisetheviking @fitnessgeekandcoffeefreak

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Masterlist

Edit 03/31/21

REQUESTS: I don’t do detailed requests (i.e., where the character, plot, and tone are all set in your mind), however, please feel free to send me suggestions for people I could write for and/ or prompts, premises, or just whether you want something fluffy/ smutty, etc. I’m pretty open about who I write for, although my familiarity level varies and some people speak to me more than others. I prefer to focus on people who don’t get as much love and attention from other writers because there’s already SO MUCH GOOD FANFIC OUT THERE and I’m still pretty new to this.

Edit 01/22/21

I’ve added short descriptions to serve as a guide.

*

I figured it was time I started one of these so that my fiction posts are a little easier to find in the mess. I’ll try my best to make sure it’s up to date. These stories are intended solely for an adult audience (18+) and contain strong language, violence, explicit sexual content, and mature themes. There are specific content advisories given on the individual posts. 

WWE (Raw & Smackdown)

Mustafi Ali

In A Parallel Universe

You and Mustafa have been friends through some tough times. But was it ever something more than friendship?

Aleister Black (see AEW: Malakai Black)

Drew McIntyre

All Kinds of Love

You and Drew have loved each other for years, through good times and bad. There’s just one problem...

Kevin Owens

Better Late Than Never?

You were slow to realize your feelings for Kevin and now you don’t know if your moment has passed. 

Damian Priest

Fall and Prey

Are you traumatized by your ex or obsessed with him? Or both?

Fortune’s Rule

Even when you’re gifted the opportunity to escape from your past, fate might have other ideas. 

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Sami Zayn

A Fine Line

You're supposed to be checking up on Sami to make sure his paranoia isn't impacting his work. But you're not convinced he's as deluded as some people think.

WWE (NXT & NXT UK)

Finn Balor

The Guardian’s Oath: 

19th century. Helen was raised by the church and assigned as a governess to the home of Feargal Devitt. However, she is caught up in a dark mystery involving her employer and the mythical demon Finn Balor.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen

Shotzi Blackheart

The Call of the Wild Woman

Sometimes you meet a person who makes you question everything about yourself.

Adam Cole

Life of the Party

Desperate to get you back in the dating scene, some friends bring you to a swingers’ party. 

Cameron Grimes

Animal Magnetism

You’re a city girl who feels more at home in the country, occasionally admiring the wildlife. 

Karrion Kross/ Scarlett Bordeaux

You’re Invited

You’re a simple lab rat but somehow you’ve captured the attention of NXT sensations Scarlet Bordeaux and Karrion Kross. 

Fall and Prey

Are you traumatized by your ex or obsessed with him? Or both?

Candice Le Rae

Girl Time

It’s simple: You’re a lesbian and Candice isn’t. Except when she is. 

Dexter Lumis

Unsavory Dealings

No one knows about you and Roderick Strong, or at least that’s what you thought.

Ember Moon

Babes in Toyland

Sometimes unconventional couples have the most fun. (F/F)

Samoa Joe

The Wages of Sin

Being a computer tech is pretty ordinary until you find a client with a lot of kinky secrets.

Roderick Strong

Unsavory Dealings

No one knows about you and Roderick Strong, or at least that’s what you thought.

AEW

Darby Allin

The Camera Doesn’t Lie

In the midst of a wild party, you meet someone who likes to capture intimate moments.

Trust Fall

Darby is that one friend who can persuade you to do things normal people wouldn't.

Lance Archer

One More Temptation

Being a sex worker is fine until fate connects you with the kind of man you’ve sworn to avoid.

Malakai Black

The Escape Route

18th-19th century. Ursula is running to escape from charges of witchcraft and murder, but when she seeks shelter in an apparently abandoned church, she finds more than she bargained for. 

Whisky Secrets (sequel)

You're desperately in love with Aleister but he sees you as just the friend to run to when he's broken. This is a sequel to Whisky Secrets by Ghost of Viper Writes.

Down by the River

Grace Johnson lives in the shadow of her church minister brother in a Depression-era town threatened by the presence of Malakai Black and his "family", a group of outcasts who have built a camp on the shores of the river.

Part one Part two Part three Part Four Part five Part Six

Eddie Kingston

Water Seeks Its Own Level

You and Eddie have a history and you’re not eager to think about it. 

The Green-Eyed Monster

Sequel to Water Seeks Its Own Level. You’ve somehow found yourself caught up in the ropes of your no-strings-attached relationship. 

Kenny Omega

The Sensitivity of Horses

As Hangman’s wife, it breaks your heart to see him suffering. 

F**k and Run

It didn’t feel like a fleeting thing...

Hangman Adam Page

The Sensitivity of Horses

As Hangman’s wife, it breaks your heart to see him suffering. 

Anxious Millennial Love

Your job is to make sure AEW talent isn’t doing anything reckless. But it’s possible that you are. 

NJPW

David Finlay

Place Your Bets

You were absolutely certain Jay could beat his old rival David Finlay and now you’re in a bit of a bind.

Raise the Stakes

A sequel to Place Your Bets. You know you should keep your work and personal life separate but that ship has sailed and your lifeboat is leaking.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part fourteen Part fourteen (alternate)

El Phantasmo

Boiling Over

You didn't like him when he was dating your best friend and he didn't like you.

Waking Up Alone

Breaking up just sucks, especially when you're not sure you wanted to.

Kenta

Words Better Left Unsaid

There are some things that Kenta just doesn’t want to hear you say.

Will Ospreay

Bad Guy

Lauren is 100% sure what she wants until she changes her mind. And she always changes her mind.

Zack Sabre Jr. 

Bad Guy

Lauren is 100% sure what she wants until she changes her mind. And she always changes her mind.

Hiromu Takahashi

Takes the Cake

You’re 40, recently divorced, and working yourself to death. So is Hiromu trying to make everything better or worse?

Shingo Takagi

His Consolation

Being a gay man in New Japan is already risky, and then you feel compelled to comfort Shingo over his bad G1 start. (M/M)

Tama Tonga

Bad Bromance

You’d love to kill Tama for destroying your relationship with his brother. 

Jay White

Shelter 

Late Medieval period. Is it a family emergency or political intrigue that’s led you to the home of Jay White, the young man who first stirred romantic feelings in you?

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Stripped

Working in a strip club exposes you to a lot of men, but Jay seems to need something more than usual. 

Place Your Bets

You were absolutely certain Jay could beat his old rival David Finlay and now you’re in a bit of a bind.

Raise the Stakes

A sequel to Place Your Bets. You know you should keep your work and personal life separate but that ship has sailed and your lifeboat is leaking.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fourteen (alternate)

Other Promotions

Bea Priestley

Bad Guy

Lauren is 100% sure what she wants until she changes her mind. And she always changes her mind.

[twomoonstwosuns]

dinner.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, age gap (reader over 18), things aren’t fluffy anymore.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: i really appreciate the love for the last chapter, i am truly glad you enjoyed it. i am my own worst critic and sometimes i feel unsure about what i write and need some validation.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Heels were not fun to wear in the middle of winter. 

Heels plus invisible ice equaled a disaster waiting to happen, even to the most experienced heel-wearers. You tried to avoid getting dressed up during the winter as much as you could for that very reason. However, dinner at Calrissian’s required a little more effort than a nice pair of pants and a nice top, which is how you found yourself in a fitted dress with heels, hair curled and makeup intricately done, sipping on a glass of wine that cost way more than it should.

You were practically counting the minutes until you could leave. You were going straight to Poe’s afterwards, a newly bought surprise for him hugging your body just underneath your dress.

“How’s my niece or nephew doing?” You asked as Tallie sat down on your right. She was four months pregnant and just beginning to show.

“I am hungry all the time and I have the weirdest cravings, so don’t judge whatever I choose to eat tonight. You know I actually had Chris go get me pickles and ice cream last night?” You gave her a disgusted look. “I’m a walking pregnancy cliché.”

“Are you guys going to find out the sex?”

“We haven’t decided. Chris and I keep going back and forth on whether we want to know or not. I have an appointment next week and I’m hoping we’ll make a decision right then and there.”

“If you do find out, promise me you won’t do an over-the-top stupid cheesy gender reveal. Just get cake or something.”

“I promise.” You clinked your wine glass against her glass of water to seal the deal. Your mother suddenly standing up from her end of the table with an excited gasp caught your attention.

“Leia, it’s so good to see you!”

She greeted a woman with graying hair done up in an intricate braid. You recognized the woman immediately. You were too blindsided at the coincidence of running into her to question how your mother knew her. The two women hugged before your mother beckoned you and Tallie over.  

“Tallie, Y/N, this is Dr. Organa.”

You shook Leia’s outstretched hand, an awed smile on your face.

“I know,” you said dumbly. “I mean, I go to your school.”

“I thought I’d seen you around campus before. Lots of students, but I’m good with faces.” Leia gave you a kind smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, ma’am.”

“Are Ben and Han not coming?” Your mother asked, looking around towards the entrance. Leia chuckled.

“My husband and son are late, as usual.” You furrowed your brow.

“Wait, you’re—you’re Ben’s mom?”

“Why did you think she was here?” Tallie asked. You shot her a glare before looking back at Leia.

“I’m sorry, I—you go by Organa not Solo, so I didn’t realize—”

“One thing I learned is that you don’t need your husband’s last name if you don’t want it. Doesn’t mean I love him any less. But I’ve got the doctorate, not him.”

She sent you a wink and you smiled nervously. You took a giant sip of wine as you came to an unsettling realization: you were about to dine with your ex-boyfriend’s mom who also happened to be the president of the university your current boyfriend, who you weren’t supposed to be dating in the first place, taught at and who would be interviewing for a promotion with very soon.

You had a feeling it would be a long night.  

“There they are!”

The booming voice of Han Solo caused many heads to turn, yet he didn’t seem to care. He was just as roguish and scruffy looking as you remembered, a look that worked quite well for him. His graying hair didn’t slow him down.

You practically did a double take when you saw the man trailing behind him.

He was taller than his father now. The freckles and moles that marked his face were as prominent as ever and jet-black hair had grown out to brush the top of his shoulders. He smiled as he greeted your mom, his dimples deep. He was no longer the tall boy with big ears that stuck out and a goofy smile.

Ben Solo was a man.  

Your breath caught when he looked at you, memories of high school flooding back. Deep brown eyes looked you up and down, like he was trying to remember what you looked like the last time he saw you.

“Hi,” your voice was breathy, nervous. Ben gave you a shy smile, feeling the same awkward tension in the air. You stared at him, still not believing how much older he looked after four years. Han interrupted your moment by patting you on the back and giving you a short hug.

When they were seated, a waiter came around with the wine list and menus for the newcomers. Conversation stalled as everyone looked at the menu, starting up again when the waiter came and left with his or her orders. A toast to old friends was made before Han launched into some story about a trip to Africa he was planning, with Leia, Tallie, and your mother listening intently. You turned your body towards Ben.

“Tell me about Europe.”

Ben leaned forward onto his elbows, his broad frame taking up a lot of space.

“I dropped out of school.” He admitted, his voice deeper than you remember. You tilted your head in a concerned way. He waved it off like it was nothing. “I thought I knew what I wanted to do but after last year I realized I had no clue. So I dropped out and I’ve been traveling ever since. I’ve been all over, not staying in a place long enough to get attached but long enough to get to know some of the locals, the best hide away spots.”

You were joyfully envious of him. “That’s awesome, though. I hope I get to travel like you have someday.” You nodded your head in the direction of his parents. “How’d they take it?”

“Upset at first.” He shrugged with a small grin. “Dad not as much.”

“He’s always been a ‘oh-you’re-going-somewhere-count-me-in’ kind of person, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t changed much.”

You smiled politely. “So what’re you going to do now?”

“I’m not sure. Travel more. Do an internship. I haven’t decided.”

It was nice to catch up with Ben on the last four years. You had always loved talking to him, even before you dated. Ben was very passionate person, always gushing about something he loved when someone expressed interest in it. He saw the beauty in things; the tiny, unique details that a lot of people didn’t bother to look for.

It was one of the things that initially drew you to him. Coincidentally, it was one of the things that drew you to Poe as well.

“How’s Chewie doing?” You asked, remembering the brown labradoodle that the Solos had had since Ben was a child. 

“He’s---”

“Y/N, are you seeing anyone these days?”

You were so caught up in conversation with Ben that you didn’t hear the other conversation switch from travel stories to Tallie’s relationship and pregnancy. Your eyes snapped up to Han and then to your mother and to Ben. You cleared your throat uncomfortably. Were you really about to tell your mom, sister and ex that you were in a relationship? You saw Leia looking at you with the same interested look as your mother and you knew you couldn’t say anything.

“I’m just trying to make it through the semester so I can graduate.”

“That’s technically not a ‘no’.” Tallie pointed out. You glared at her. Ben placed his hand on your arm. 

“Chewie’s old but still good.”

You smiled appreciatively as the food came, and not a moment too soon. As you ate, Ben asked about you, how school was going, what you chose for your major, and your plans for the future. You reminisced about high school, the good and the cringey moments. He avoided asking more questions about your dating life and you had never been more grateful.

Dessert was to go, the opportunity to sample it too good to pass up but stomachs full from the delicious meal you had just eaten. You snagged a few bites of your dessert before deciding to give the rest to Poe. You practically pushed your mother and sister out of the restaurant. Despite having a nice time, you really just wanted to go see Poe.  

“Hey,” Ben put a hand on your forearm as you stepped into the chill of the night. “I just wanted to say I heard about your dad. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile. “It’s been…it’s been weird.”

“You can always reach out if you want to talk about it. I’m a good listener.”

“Yeah, I know you are,” you said. “It was good to see you, Ben.”

You opened your arms for a friendly hug. He stepped in, towering over you as you gave him a couple friendly pats on the back. Ben lingered into your touch a little bit and you cleared your throat awkwardly as you pulled away.

“I’ll see you around,” you yelled back as you found your car, getting in before you could see the way Ben watched you leave with a small smile and an optimistic look on his face.

》 》 》

“I brought you cheesecake!” you sang as you entered Poe’s apartment. He looked up at the sound of your heels against the hardwood floor of his kitchen. “It is phenomenal. I did sneak a few bites but the rest is yours and you are going to love it.”

You leaned over to give Poe a quick kiss hello but he quickly grabbed the lapel of your coat before you backed away. His hands slid underneath your open coat to rest on your waist as he softly pecked your lips several times. After five months worth of kisses, he still took your breath away like it was the first time. Poe smiled contently as he pulled away, keeping you close to him. He kissed the tip of your thumb as you wiped the away lipstick that was smudged on his face.

“How was dinner?” You shrugged.

“Not as boring as I thought it was going to be.”

“Well, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you. I froze my ass off wearing this though.”

“Then you are a very beautiful popsicle.”

“Well if you think I look beautiful now, then you are going to love what I have on underneath.”

Poe practically growled as his head fell onto your shoulder, his lips finding where your neck met your collarbone. It was exactly the reaction you were hoping for, but you needed to talk to him first. With a light chuckle, you gently pushed him towards the counter and held the fork out to him.  

“You need to eat this cheesecake first,” you said, the tone of your voice becoming a little less light-hearted. “And there’s something I have to tell you that’s kind of important.”

Poe stepped away from you and grabbed the fork, taking the box with the cheesecake in it and leaning against the back of the counter. You wrung your hands nervously and cleared your throat as Poe took a bite of the cheesecake, his brown eyes looking at you expectedly. You took a deep breath. Truth time.

“First of all, the family I went to dinner with tonight, the Solos? They’re family friends but their son Ben and I were in a relationship in high school.”

Poe froze mid-chew and was still for a moment before nodding slowly. He kept looking down, like he didn’t want to be bothered by what you were saying but couldn’t help it.

“Ben’s mother…is Leia Organa.” Poe finally looked up at you, his brow furrowed.

“President Organa?!” He asked in disbelief. You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know.”

“How could you not know?”

His curt tone surprised you. It honestly felt like no big deal to you. In fact, you thought he’d welcome the information even if it wasn’t good news, but instead you felt judged; like you were dumb for not knowing something so general about the person you were dating.

“I never met her.” You kept your voice calm. “She was teaching somewhere in Europe when we dated. She goes by Organa, not Solo, so I never made the connection.”

Poe nodded in understanding, stabbing the cheesecake unnecessarily hard. You flinched. “Is that it?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

An awkward silence filled the apartment. Neither of you said a word and neither of you so much as glanced at each other.

“So Ben…” You looked back at him and stared with eyebrows raised, waiting to see where he was going to go. “Did you tell him you’re dating someone?”

“No.” It was Poe’s turn to stare at you and wait for a response. “I couldn’t tell my mother, my sister, my ex, and my ex’s parents I was seeing somebody. They’d press me for information and…Poe’s not a very common name. Leia would’ve made the connection, she knows I’m a student here.”

“So, your ex still thinks you’re single.”

“It’s not like he’s still in love with me after four years.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And even if he was, who cares? I’m with you. I’m in a relationship with you.”

“But he doesn’t know that, so he thinks he still has a chance. If he wants it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I was just being honest with you, Poe.”

“I appreciate it.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, I can tell.”

Poe scoffed right back, a hand going on his hip. You recognized this stance. You hadn’t seen it from him but you’d seen it before. He was bracing for a fight. “You’re being honest, but it doesn’t mean I have to like what you’re telling me.”

“Would you rather I have not told you?” When Poe didn’t answer, you sighed heavily. “Not that my life is any of his business anymore, but I’ll tell him if that’s what you want. And I’ll tell my mom and sister even though I’m not ready.”

“Don’t do that,” Poe said, frustration starting to rise in him. “Don’t act like I’m telling you what to do. I’m not telling you what to do.”

“No it’s fine, I’ll tell them. I don’t know how my mom will take it given what she’s gone through, but I’ll tell her. It’s clearly what you want.”

Poe ran a hand through his hair. “Y/N, she’s going to deal with it with the rest of her life. There may never be a perfect time to tell her something she might not be happy with.”

“My parents were married for twenty-eight years! Twenty-eight years and my dad up and left, knowing that he was breaking her heart. He willingly broke her heart.”

“I understand—“

“No, you don’t. Your mom didn’t willingly leave you.”

Poe clenched his jaw. You quietly gasped at your own words and your eyes cast downward in shame. Your lips rolled in as your ears picked up the sound of a heavy sigh.

“Poe, I didn’t—“

Poe shook his head and walked into his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. Your chin dropped to your chest and swore under your breath. Calling his name, you walked towards his door. The only sound that was heard was the sound of Beebs’ collar jingling as he looked up at the sudden noise. You hung around for a few minutes, not hearing anything on the other side of his bedroom door, before walking back into the kitchen.

There were a million things you wanted to say, but you didn’t know where to start. You wanted to apologize and chastise him for walking off at the same time. You wanted to barge into his room and make him talk to you. But him ignoring you was a sign that you both needed time to cool off before you said something you’d regret.

You reluctantly walked out the door with tears swimming in your eyes and a heavy weight in your chest.

tag list [open!] - @ah-callie @darksideofclarke @gloomygoregirl @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @fanfiction-trashpile @afootnoteinyourhappiness @easterncryptid @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @umchrisevans @galaxy-of-stories @seeking-a-great--perhaps