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Sunshine City: Three

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read/reblogged/commented on the last chapter. You are all lovely and deserve a Whiskey of your own. This chapter still revolves around the plot of the film, so if you have any questions just let me know! I hope this little story can make you smile at least for a moment. My asks and DMs are always open.

Pairing: (Eventual) Agent Whiskey x F!Reader (No Y/N)

Word Count: 5.7k

Rating For This Chapter: T for guns, blood, injuries

Catch up on the Prologue, Chapters One, and Two here!

Y/N sat at the bar and ordered a cranberry juice.

Butterfly Guy was sitting with Eggsy, Whiskey, and a guy who insisted on being called Merlin in a booth near the window.

“Rough day, sugar?” Paula the bartender asked as she set down the cloudy glass filled with purple-red juice.

“Rough couple of days,” she muttered and handed over a handful of crumpled bills that Paula methodically straightened out before placing them in the till. Paula was basically an agent in her own right. She’d been part of the bar for nearly twenty years and since only Statesmen drank here and knew of its existence, they spoke freely about their work. She probably knew more classified intel than some junior agents.

“You sure I can’t get you anything stronger?” She asked, her bleach blonde hair swiping over her shoulders. “Something with a little more oomph?”

“Just the cranberry juice for now.” She smiled and sipped on the too-bitter drink and resisted puckering her lips at the taste. “But thank you.”

Paula nodded and cast a glance at the table where the agents sat. “You know, Whiskey keeps lookin’ over here.”

She ignored the twisting in her stomach and took a large gulp. “ ‘s just post-mission jitters.”

“Uh-huh,” Paula said with a roll of her eyes. “Sure. When a handsome man looks at me like that…” she drifted off with a raise of her eyebrows.

(But she wouldn’t deny that she noticed Whiskey looking at her a little more often. When they met up after she implanted the tracker in Clara, she noticed Whiskey kept turning away every so often, a hand tucked in his front pocket. It was a common gesture used by men to hide an erection, she knew that—she just didn’t believe he would have one at that moment. They were in the middle of a mission. There was no way he was hiding a boner. But the thought was fun.)

Thankfully, Agent Moonshine started hollering and she sighed into her drink and got up from her barstool and walked behind the bar.

Paula was watching the scene unfold like she hadn’t watched a million bar fights before and looked ready to piss herself. Sunny patted her on the shoulder and signaled for her to hide in the little cubby beneath the register.

The Butterfly Guy quickly made a fool of himself, trying to teach Moonshine and his buddies some manners and she leaned against the sticky bar to watch as Whiskey stood from his seat. It wasn’t the first time she would watch Whiskey kick Moonshine’s ass but it was always fun to witness.

And those tight jeans did wonders for his butt.

While she would never understand his affinity for his lasso or his whip, it was nice to watch him work (and to see Moonshine bleed a little).

As he finished, Moonshine and his hangers-on all unconscious or bleeding enough to keep them still, Whiskey adjusted his hat and let out a whistle. “I feel like a tornado in a trailer park.”

She snorted and finished her drink as Paula slowly came out from the cubby and gaped at the mess. “It looks like a tornado came through here, boss. I think you owe Paula another window.”

“And new glasses!” Paula said with a frown.

She patted Paula’s shoulder again with a promise that the window would be fixed within a handful of hours as the televisions switched from the football game and were overtaken by a wash of yellow and red with an obnoxious chime.

A woman draped in a horrendous yellow outfit with fiery red hair soon filled the screens. “Mr. President, my name is Poppy Adams. I believe the UN has no teeth. So I've selected you, as leader of the free world, to receive this communication. And I invite you to begin negotiations on the largest scale hostage situation in history. A few weeks ago, an engineered virus was released and contained in all varieties of my product: cannabis, cocaine, heroin, opium, ecstasy, and crystal meth.” Each line item popped up on the screen in a pretty font. Cap looked over to see Whiskey already looking at her, lips pulled into a frown. “Some of you are already infected. And this is what you can expect in the coming days. After a brief incubation period, victims present with stage one symptoms: a blue rash. Next, second stage symptoms appear: mania, as the virus enters the brain. Very distressing to the victim and those around them. Stage three: paralysis. Muscles enter a state of catastrophic seizure. And once the muscles of the thorax become affected, breathing becomes impossible.” She watched as one new victim after another was revealed on the screen until blood spurted out of the last man’s eyes and nose, dead for millions to witness. “This leads to a very nasty death within 12 hours. But I have good news to the millions already affected. It doesn't have to be this way. I have an antidote.” Poppy held up a clear vial filled with an amber liquid—and Elton John behind another glass wall.

“What have you done to me, you fucking bitch?” God bless Elton John.

Undeterred by Elton John’s outburst, Poppy continued, “100% effective and ready to ship out worldwide at a moment's notice. I will do this if the following conditions are met. First, you agree to end the war on drugs, once and for all. All classes of substance are legalized paving the way to a new marketplace in which sales are regulated and taxed just like alcohol. And second, my colleagues and I receive full legal immunity. Meet my terms. I look forward to helping you keep our beloved country great, boosting our ailing economy, and easing spending on law enforcement. Or continue this blinkered, outmoded, and, frankly, disastrous exercise in prohibition, and live with blood on your hands. Save lives. Legalize.”

The broadcast ended and the televisions screens quickly flipped back to the football game. Whiskey was at her side in a blink of an eye. His hand brushed down her back. “We gotta talk to Champ, Sunny.”

And that was how she found herself bundled in winter gear on an Italian mountainside. Clara had called Charlie, and thanks to the tracking device she had implanted at Glastonbury, they were able to pick up the conversation. Charlie told Clara (who was now covered in the blue rash) to meet him at the ski resort they’d visited last year so he could give her the antidote. The tracking device could pinpoint their exact location and everyone was betting that the Italian resort was one of the storehouses for the antidote.

But she was also wondering, once again, why she found Whiskey attractive. He was in a terrible blue and white snowsuit that had to have been made in the 1970s. And he still refused to take off his damned cowboy hat. She appreciated the dedication to his aesthetic but it still seemed…ridiculous.

And he’d been grating on her last nerve on the flight over.

Ginger had buzzed in and suggested that Cap be the one to retrieve the antidote because only Clara would recognize her as opposed to Charlie possibly recognizing Eggsy or Butterfly Man (who she was told to call either Galahad or Harry). Whiskey then laughed—loudly—and stated plainly that he would be planning the mission and Ginger should stick to her computers and gadgets. “It isn’t like ya have any experience in the field.”

She really thought about murdering her boss for the rest of the flight. Her plots to kill him only got more creative when he told her to stay at the safe-house when they landed.

She was tired. She was angry.

And that was probably why she finally snapped. “If you didn’t want me to come along, you could have just told Champ. God knows you don’t listen to anyone else.” She hefted her bag filled with her own weapons and ammo higher onto her shoulder and turned away from him, readying to hike up toward the house and stew in her lonesome until the three men returned—hopefully with the antidote in hand.

But his hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop before she could get very far. “That ain’t fair, Sunny.”

She pulled out of his grip with a poorly hidden snarl. “No. You’re not fair. To me. To Ginger. All because of some bullshit you think is right.”

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection. I’ve been in this game a long time-”

“And I’ve been in it longer-”

“-and I can take care of myself. What you’re doing to Ginger is so fucking backwards I’m surprised you can see straight,” she hissed it out like a curse. “I’m tired, Whiskey. I’m so tired of watching her jump through hoops trying to get you to notice that she could outperform half the agents in the field and you want her stuck behind the desk until she dies. I’m tired of you thinking you know best in the field. Why do you even request me to go with you if you’re going to undermine me every step of the way?”

Whiskey’s mouth opened. Then closed.

Her shoulders slumped. Harry and Eggsy both looked like they were very interested in the calibrations of their earpieces and not listening to what just happened. God this whole situation was pathetic. They were trying to save the world and she was waffling between yearning and rage for her stupid boss. She trudged away in the snow toward the safe house and barely heard Whiskey say, “what are you lookin’ at, Butterfly Guy?”

But she continued on, up the mountain and found the small shack of a house and swept the perimeter before settling in. She comm’ed in only to say she reached the safe house. Eggsy responded cheerfully but she didn’t respond when Whiskey also chimed in with a, “good work, Sunny.”

Time ticked by.

There was a commotion on the other end of the comm line when Butterfly Guy wouldn’t respond—and then all she heard was Eggsy and Whiskey screaming. She rolled her eyes. They were so dramatic. But soon, the trio was making their way toward the safe-house and she didn’t bother to open the door when she heard them outside. They all hobbled in, mid-argument.

Eggsy pulled out a small vial and showed it to her with a smile she had to reciprocate. “You got it.”

“We did. A little dicey—Charlie recognized me.”

She glanced at Whiskey who frowned in return. It didn’t matter. Ginger had been right and now he knew it.

“Can I see it, kid?” Whiskey asked with his hand outstretched as he walked toward them. But then his dark eyes tracked to the window and widened. “Get down!” Whiskey all but tackled both Eggsy and her to the dusty ground of the house as bullets started to fly. Glass shattered. Wood splintered.

She watched, unable to do anything from her pinned position, as the small vial was all but knocked from Eggsy’s hand and shattered on the ground.

“You fucking dickhead!” Eggsy hollered as he scrambled out from under Whiskey to look over the spilled antidote, almost uncaring of the bullets whizzing by.

“Fuck you, I just saved your life!” Whiskey retorted.

“Yeah, and cost millions of people theirs!”

She had to slap at Whiskey’s thigh to get him to move off her and she rolled off into the corner when he did. The rain of bullets stopped for a moment and she looked out the window. “They’re reloading.”

Whiskey nodded. “All right, I'll fix their wagons. Cover me, boys!” And then he all but bolted out of the house, guns blazing.

With a roll of her eyes, ignoring how Whiskey had told the ‘boys’ to cover him, she followed suit and ran out into the snow, pulling her guns out from their holsters. The shootout was nothing she hadn’t seen before and, while she didn’t have all the flair most of the Statesmen agents had, she could mow down people just as efficiently. (The acrobatics the Statesmen and Kingsman agents seemed so fond of really just seemed…excessive.)

Whiskey went through the left flank so she went through the unlucky men on the right.

It was easy pickings, really. Despite the heavy artillery and uneven numbers, it was almost too simple of a gunfight. But the adrenaline rush was nice. It had been too long since she had felt her heart beat this fast. Bullets were flying by her head as she dove behind a tree and then twisted to shoot down the other man. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Whiskey pull out his electric lasso and then cut a man in half who came out with a knife.

“Fucking ridiculous,” she muttered as she stood, lowering her guns and quietly thankful that Whiskey wasn’t hurt.

There was a single gunshot and she froze. A familiar cold crept up her torso and one last man stepped out from the tree line with his gun raised right in her direction. The barrel smoked. But his eyes were wide like he couldn’t quite understand that he’d actually managed to shoot her. With a snarl, she pulled her guns up again and fired twice, painting the trees and snow behind him in a spattering of red.

“Sunny!” Whiskey yelled as he spotted her.

She pressed a hand to her stomach and felt the terrible, wet warmth soak her palm. She holstered her guns again and stepped out to look at him, turning ever so slightly to hide the blossoming red from him. “We’re good.”

“You should’ve stayed in the house.”

“You needed back up!” She said, marching toward the house despite feeling her legs shake. Pressing against the wound only made bile rise in her throat.

“The kid and Butterfly Guy-”

“It’s over, boss. Let’s just-”

Whiskey suddenly grabbed at her waist and all but threw her into the house and she nearly lost her footing. She barely had time to recognize the pain suddenly roaring through her system as the adrenaline started to fade.

“Troop carrier coming in. And I’m out of ammo—whaddya got?” He asked, pointedly looking at Eggsy and Harry.

But they were both looking at Whiskey’s hand.

He slowly raised it to his face and saw it covered in blood. His head snapped to the side to look at her. “Sunny?”

Her knees finally buckled and she hit the weathered wood. She shakily caught herself with her other hand, feeling blood slip between her fingers. She coughed and watched as blood splattered against the wood.

“They’ve got Gatling guns!”

Whiskey was yelling. Bullets whizzed by. And the beat of her heart started to drown out everything else.

“Harry, no!” She barely heard Eggsy shout.

And then, in her quickly-hazing vision, she watched Whiskey’s body crumple to the floor beside hers. She reached out a bloody hand toward him without thinking, pressing crimson-colored fingers against his face as if that would stop the bleeding.

“He broke the vial on purpose, Eggsy. If we made it out of here, he was gonna kill us both!”

The world went dark.

The sterile scent of HQ’s medical wing was a welcoming aroma as her eyes opened.

“There you are.” Ginger leaned over her with a soft smile. “How ya feeling?”

“Tired.”

“No pain?” She asked as she helped Cap sit up slowly.

“A bit tender—but I know what feeling shot in the chest feels like so I would prefer this.” She pulled at the bland, cotton-blend shirt she was dressed in and saw her stomach covered in a bit of gauze and tape. Despite Ginger telling her not to, she pulled at the coverings to reveal the mostly-healed bullet wound and then pushed back into the pillows. It looked like it had already been healing for weeks instead of a day or two. Statesmen truly knew how to patch someone up. But then a thought struck her. “Where’s Whiskey?”

And Ginger’s soft, answering smile calmed her suddenly clenching heart. “He’s in the next room over, Cap. He’ll wake up soon. Eggsy gave him the Alpha Gel and it worked like it was supposed to.”

She pushed out a long breath through her nose and nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

Ginger’s watch beeped. She looked at the small screen and sighed. “I will be back. Don’t get into any trouble, okay?”

“I promise nothing.”

Ginger chuckled, having heard that answer many times before, and let herself out of the room.

She let herself stew for a moment (it was really about an hour). Her life had really gone off the rails since Vegas. It was one thing to secretly harbor amorous thoughts about your boss. It was another to scream at him, get shot, and then see him get shot after seeing him (possibly) thwart any efforts to get the antidote and save millions of people. And she had a chance to say something to Ginger. But she didn’t.

Hm.

She carefully slid off the bed and winced when a bolt of pain zig-zagged through her body as her feet touched the cold floor. Shuffling over to the door, she peered out into the hallway and then stepped out. Whiskey’s holding room was only a few footsteps away.

Should she go in? But then what would she say?

Should she just go back to her room and pretend she was unconscious the entire time and remembered exactly nothing from Italy? But what was she trying to forget anyway?

But, thankfully, Eggsy found her in the middle of the hall and broke her rambling thoughts. He pocketed his phone and looked a bit worried as he noticed her. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Better than I should be after being shot. You?”

He started to nod but then shook his head. “My girlfriend…she, uh, she’s got the blue rash.” He rubbed at his forehead.

“You care about her. Probably more than you should, right?” That was easy to see. Eggsy was a good kid, probably a little too easy to read. “Especially in this line of work.”

“You get it—Kingsmen aren’t allowed to have attachments. And I…” he tried to grasp at the words he needed, “love her.”

“Statesmen doesn’t have that rule. Probably because we’re very bad at following any sort of guideline anyway.” She shrugged and regretted the movement as it pulled at her wound. “But that means you’ve got less than 12 hours. You got a plan?”

Eggsy quickly explained that they had been able to trace Poppy’s location to Cambodia and they were heading out there now. But his eyes quickly widened as he realized he had just revealed a plan to a potentially dangerous adversary.

“Relax, Eggsy. I’m not the one you shot in the head.” She waved him on. “Go. Save the world. Look out for landmines.”

“Landmines?” Eggsy parroted, face scrunching into a confused frown.

“If Poppy’s as crazy as I think she is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has nonsense like that. Who knows? Maybe she has a fleet of man-eating robots, too.”

“What are you on about?”

She shook her head. “I’ve seen some stuff. Don’t worry about it.”

He smiled and started to walk away. “You should come to London when this is all over. I’ll get you a drink!”

She smiled a bit and watched him disappear around a corner before her eyes once again drifted toward Whiskey’s door. “…fuck.” Against her better judgement, she walked up and let the door glide open without a sound. The room was quiet. Whiskey was motionless on the bed, face still covered by the machine to help the Alpha Gel finish its work. His vitals were steady, displayed on large screens across the wall.

He would be fine.

She slipped gingerly into a chair near the bed and resisted the urge to reach out and touch his hand. He just looked so…vulnerable. It was so unlike him. An angry, terrible twisting pulled at her chest. “I’m not sorry I yelled at you, you know.” She wasn’t sure why she was talking to him but the words kept coming anyway. “You need to let Ginger out in the field. She’d be a better agent than me. I don’t know why you’re… I don’t understand you at all, actually. I wish I did, I think. I wish I could understand you and why you do things and say things. I wish I could understand why you make me feel so stupid.”

Maybe being this close to death—again—was making her sentimental. Or maybe the pain medication was making her crazy.

Probably the second option. Hopefully, anyway.

The door opened again and Ginger stepped in. “I knew I’d find you in here.”

“How’d you figure that?”

Ginger gave her a look but didn’t answer. “It is about time we wake him up. You remember how it’s like, right?”

She nodded. She had heard stories about how most agents needed a ‘reminder’ of a traumatic event to bring them back to the present and how their minds could be a bit foggy for a few days after, but she had never seen it in person. But she basically knew what to except--right?

With a flip of a few switches, the machine receded and Whiskey’s eyes opened. He was up and off the bed with a spring in his gait that had her laughing as he gave some terrible pick-up line to Ginger. But the laugh drew his attention and his body went rigid as his eyes landed on her. “Sunny.”

She felt tension she didn’t realize she was holding leech from her shoulders as he smiled at her. “Hey, boss.”

Ginger tucked something back in her pocket and her smile seemed to reach her ears. “I’ll leave you two…alone. But I’m just outside if you need anything.” She then scurried out and left her alone with Whiskey and her hammering heart.

“Sunshine.” The new nickname was all but crushing to her heart, caving in her chest.

She waved him back to the bed and told him to rest before she curled her fingers around his hand. It was warm and calloused and, as cliché as it sounded, seemed to fit hers perfectly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot in the head.”

She almost laughed and her other hand carefully pushed his still-impeccably styled hair away from the bandage covering a small bit of his temple. “Yeah. You look great for a dead man, though.”

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” But he said it with a smile and squeezed her hand. “Say it again.”

“You look great.” And her smile grew, heart a little lighter.

He huffed out a laugh but then a long silence stretched between them. She looked away from his dark eyes but didn’t pull her hand away from his, fearing he’d disappear if she did.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sunshine?” He squeezed at her hand until she looked at him again.

“I’m okay. They fixed me up just fine. A new scar for the collection.”

His smile slowly dropped and he placed his other hand over hers, too. “I saw you drop. You were bleedin’ out and I-”

“I saw you get shot, too, you know. Butterfly Guy has an interesting way of showing he doesn’t trust someone.” She shook the thought away. Harry’s brain was scrambled, too. “I’m just happy you’re okay. Your brain might feel a bit funny for a day or two, but I’ll be here.”

“Where are they now? The Brits?”

“They’re on their way to Cambodia. They think they’ve found Poppy’s base.”

Whiskey all but yanked his hands from hers and threw his legs over the side of the bed before standing on his long legs. She quickly stood too, chair clattering backward. “We’ve gotta go. Tell Ginger to get the Silver Pony on the runway.” He started toward the door before she grabbed at his arm.

“Boss, c’mon. You need to rest-”

“I need to make sure that bitch doesn’t get what she wants.”

She was scrambling then, hands pawing up his arm to grasp at his face. Her heart was in her throat as she looked at him. His dark eyes looked so cold. Unfocused. She knew the Alpha Gel could scramble someone’s brain as it physically repaired it, pushing them into old habits and thoughts and fears. She knew Whiskey wasn’t thinking right at the moment—no matter how soft he had been with her moments ago, this wasn’t her Whiskey. Her mouth went dry. Thoughts raced by as the pit she had felt growing in her stomach expanded to an abyss. She knew what he’d been through. The death of his wife at the hands of some coked-out druggies was an open secret. And she knew her own grief, dealt with it in her own way—not all of it healthy, she knew. But she had to try. She knew the look of a man who wanted vengeance no matter the cost—and, right now, the cost was millions of lives. “Do you know why I don’t drink?”

“We don’t have time for this,” he said as he pulled out of her grip.

“Drunk driver plowed into my dad’s car. I was at the local pool with some friends and Dad piled everyone in to pick me up so we could get ice cream after. They never made it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Do you think I hold it against everyone who likes to put a little something extra in their coffee? Likes to have a little liquid courage to talk to the cute guy across the bar?”

Whiskey’s face twisted and his eyes seemed to dilate before he scrunched them shut. A shaking hand pushed through his hair.

“I work at a distillery for a man named Whiskey.”

Another silence stretched between them. She would swear he could hear her heartbeat in the quiet of the room.

A careful hand reached out to touch his wrist, too afraid to do much else. “Stay,” she whispered. “Stay with me.”

And his eyes finally opened.

Champ smiled and congratulated them on a job well done. It was a week since the entire Golden Circle situation had been handled. Tequila was well. Whiskey’s mind was clear. And their profits had never been higher.

Merlin, Harry, and Eggsy were standing at the end of the table and each held a glass of amber liquid as everyone raised a toast. Whiskey was sitting across from his Sunny, golden glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He probably should have been listening to what was Champ was saying but all he could see was how she licked her lips after taking a sip of her cranberry juice.

Statesmen, knowing an ally when they saw one, had purchased a distillery in Scotland. It was the perfect guise to help Kingsman rebuild and keep their money looking “clean.” Yes, he should have listened.

Because the Kid opened his mouth and said Kingsman needed more agents.

“I think Ginger would be a great Kingsman,” Sunny said with a smile.

Ginger, tucked into a corner a drink of her own, smiled in return. “I…”

“Agreed,” Whiskey heard himself saying. And he quickly realized that he meant it.

Ginger’s eyes went wide and she nearly sloshed the entirety of her drink across her shirt.

Champ laughed. “Alrighty then. Ginger Ale, well, I guess you’ll get a new code name, won’t ya?”

But the Kid’s smile widened. “And I was thinking Cap could come, too.” He turned to her and shrugged a shoulder. “Whaddya say, Cap? I’ll show you the real London.”

Whiskey looked at her, feeling like someone had shoved their fist down his throat. Don’t go. Don’t leave.

“I always wanted to be a knight of the round table.”

The men at the end of the table cheered again and Ginger walked over to knock their glasses together.

And while everyone continued to pat themselves on the back for completing the mission, all he could feel was cold.

The revelry eventually died down and Whiskey found himself the last one seated at the table. Everyone else filtered out to ready for the next mission—or the move to London. It was just him and Champ. The older man plopped down in the seat beside him and refilled his empty glass.

“London is only a few hours by plane from New York.”

He took a long pull from his glass.

“I’ve never known you to wait for something you wanted, Whiskey. But sure seemed to drag your ass on this one.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Champ?” He finally asked after another large gulp of alcohol.

But Champ just shook his head with a throaty chuckle. “You two are a mess.”

Royal weddings were…an event, she was finding.

After nearly losing Princess Tilde to the Golden Circle, Eggsy actually proposed. And with Harry now known as Arthur and presiding over Kingsman, the rules changed. Attachments were allowed. And because Tilde knew his fellow Kingsman were like Eggsy’s family, they were invited to the wedding. A handful of Statesmen, too. It had been a year since Poppy’s demise in Cambodia and the world was (mostly) at peace. Kingsman managed to salvage quite a bit from the wreckage of their former bases and Statesmen funded the rest of their necessary rebuilds. It was slow-going, and a handful of new agents were still finding their footing after graduating from the selection process.

“Please tell me Tequila is not wearing jeans,” she muttered.

Ginger, now known as Agent Percival, rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile as she spotted the jean-clad man amid the rest of the American crowd. “I could but that would be a lie.” She paused. “But Whiskey certainly dressed for the occasion.”

She leaned forward just the slightest bit to see Whiskey dressed in a fine tuxedo. “Is that one of ours?”

Ginger hummed. “He came in a few days ago for a fitting.”

She swallowed the saliva filling her mouth and turned back to watch Eggsy nervously fidget with his cufflinks at the end of the aisle. “Looks good.”

The ceremony finished after the vows and a bit of perfunctory reading and singing before the guests were all chauffeured over to the reception space at the royal palace. “You know, Merlin told me that you and Whiskey are quite fond of using emojis in your emails,” Ginger said as dinner was cleared away and dessert started to be served.

Her glass of water nearly slipped from her grip as embarrassment washed over her. “I was told those were private.”

“Nothing’s private in our line of work,” Ginger said with a pat to her hand. “But you haven’t really explained what is going on between you two.”

She rubbed at her temples. How could she possibly explain that she knew Whiskey, while his brain was still scrambled, wanted to let everyone infected with the Blue Rash die? How could she explain that she, despite all that, missed his smile and stupid mustache? Missed how he had terrible pick-up lines that always made her roll her eyes? Missed how she always seemed a little lighter whenever he would waltz into her office in New York?

Their constant contact devolved away from work and missions and into their private lives. He would ask after Bela and she would ask him to tell her about the view from his office window. It was now a strange sort of friendship that she treasured and protected despite how they hadn’t seen each other in person in over a year. She had taken the position at Kingsman, took the code name Agent Mordred, moved to London. It should have been a clean break. She could have kept their communications purely professional. But she didn’t. She just couldn’t truly let him go.

But on the outside, she shrugged as her hands dropped away from her face.

“It looks like I’ll be able to see for myself because he’s on his way over here.��

Her head snapped up at the sound of Ginger’s smug tone and, sure enough, Whiskey was on his way over, walking through the dancing crowd and wandering guests, right toward their table.

“But oh no. Would you look at that, I need more champagne.” Ginger then scampered off and left her alone.

Whiskey easily took Ginger’s vacated seat and smiled at her. “Hey, Sunshine.”

“Hey, bos-Whiskey.”

He chuckled at her slip. His head tilted to the side as he looked at her, eyes trailing down her form and she resisted a shiver like a teenaged girl but was silently thankful for the designer dress that fit her like a glove in a soft blue silk. “You look good.”

“You too.” And he did. The tuxedo was impeccably cut and the darkest black. A pristine white shirt was held back with a matching cummerbund and a black bowtie was slightly crooked around his neck. She reached out and straightened it.

He reached up to keep her hand pressed against his chest with a small smile. “I miss you.” It was whispered like a secret.

“We talk every day.” But she didn’t pull her hand away.

“ ‘s not the same and you know it.” He squeezed her hand. “Dance with me?” Wordlessly, he led her out onto the dance floor and pulled her close.

His expensive cologne made her mind swim but she resisted the urge to rest her cheek against his shoulder despite every nerve in her body telling her to do so. The music was slow, soft, and romantic. The lighting was low and accentuated by flickering candles that danced across the golden walls of the royal ballroom. If she could let herself remember anything—it would be this moment. Held in the arms of the man she loved even if it was just for a tiny sliver of time.

“I never thanked you, you know.”

“For what?”

“Saving me. My head was a mess—even before Butterfly Guy put a bullet in it. It took me a while but I…” He shook his head. “You’ve given me a second chance.”

She cocked her head to the side with a smile. “To save the world?”

Whiskey’s smile was small and his cheeks reddened the slightest bit but his dark eyes never left her face. His grip on her hand and waist tightened the slightest bit. “A second chance at everything.”

She chuckled and ignored how her chest tightened. Reading into it would only make it hurt.

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @spookyold-saintjm @honestlystop @paryl @fioccodineveautunnale @lackofhonor

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey #kingsman the golden circle

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crazy-little-cool-cat · 5 years

Text

Hand in Glove - Chapter 27 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: ask game is ON until Sunday. While I’m writing, please send asks for the characters. Not only do I love your questions, it helps me stay in the zone. Also, updated my writing playlist because some songs needed to be added and I do what I want.

Warnings: Slight/implied smut, shit gets a bit weird, nothing unusual.

Word Count: Less than 4K, which is lovely, because I seriously thought this chapter is like a standalone novel.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14 , Chapter 15 , Chapter 16 , Chapter 17 , Chapter 18 , Chapter 19 , Chapter 20 , Chapter 21 , Chapter 22 , Chapter 23 , Chapter 24, Chapter 25 , Chapter 26

"Fiercely and forever, Jones."

Ben and Annie leaned into each other, their foreheads pressed together. Annie sat in Ben's lap, one hand wrapped around the column of his neck, the other around his broad shoulders. Rocking them both back and forth, Ben let out the most confusing noise - something between a sob and a laugh.

"I don't even have an engagement ring to give you."

"I don't want one." Annie opened her eyes and looked at him through her lashes,close-up. The reality of what had just happened settling in. "I don't want a wedding."

Ben's eyes opened and stared into her own. "Come again?"

"I don't want this to be a big deal." Annie didn't break eye-contact. "I don't want people to know we're doing this."

"So no one's allowed to know we're getting married, then?" Ben leaned back, his arms relaxing around Annie. "Why?"

"It's nobody's business."

"I'm pretty sure our friends and families will want to celebrate this." Ben scoffed.

"I don't give a flying fuck, actually." Annie shrugged. "They're not doing this. We are."

"Are you sure about that?"

"About what?" Annie raised an eyebrow.

"That we're doing this. It doesn't sound like we're doing this." Ben started to push Annie off him but she clung on. "Are you ashamed of our relationship or something?"

"Of course not."

"So you just don't want people to know we're doing this?" Ben was incredulous. "For no reason? Just because?"

"If people know," Annie started, carefully choosing her words, "if they're involved - if they're invested in it - and this all falls apart, just imagine how much fun they'll have watching us crash and burn."

"Huh." Ben bit the inside of his cheek. "So, what, we elope? Tell no one? You won't take my name?"

"We'll get legally married. No big, fancy event. No tux and wedding gown." Annie explained. "No invitations. No paps. Just us."

"So we'll be the only ones to know we're married?"

"Well, no. We could tell family and friends after the fact." Annie shrugged. "We can exchange rings if you want. I'll take your name. All I need is a little hyphen next to mine."

"Right." Ben chuckled bitterly.

"What?"

"Nothing." he shrugged and pushed Annie off his lap.

"What is it?" Annie asked, still sitting on the floor, as Ben got up and looked for his smokes.

"Nothing. Everything's fine."

"It clearly isn't." Annie stood up as well and blocked the front door. "Talk to me."

"Do you really want to get married, Annie?" Ben asked as he reached for his jacket from the coat rack, "or are you just -"

"Yes!" Annie cried as Ben put his jacket on. "Yes!"

"Just without anyone knowing?"

"Ben, think about it." Annie crossed her arms. "You're getting seriously famous. Internationally. You're the best looking man on earth. Do you know how many people will wish us nothing but the worst? How many people will -"

"Who gives a bloody shit?!"

"I do!" Annie squared her shoulders. "It'll take us 29 days to get married from the day we give our notice."

"I can't bel -" Ben stopped mid-sentence, "wait, how do you know that?"

"I checked."

“What do you mean?”

“I checked what the process is.” Annie shrugged. “Because this is something I want to do. With you.”

Ben looked up at the ceiling and scratched the side of his nose, scoffing.

“Wait,” he said when he looked down and took in Annie’s puzzled face. “You actually checked that? When?”

“In the car. Before I drove home.”

“So when you said you’re ‘not sure’ if you want to get married, before?”

“Yeah, I lied.” Annie cringed. “Mostly to myself, if that’s any consolation.”

“You’re unbelievable.” Ben shook his head in awe. “29 days?”

“29 days. But we have to give notice. Only then we can start counting down.”

“Do we need documents or something?”

“I guess. Didn’t check that far…” Annie bit her bottom lip. “I got kind of freaked out with myself for looking it up in the first place.”

“I’m not following.” Ben started to take a fag out of the box. “Can you move, please?”

“Ben, I never wanted to get married. Growing up with my parents, seeing what marriage was like?” Annie explained. “It was like having an out-of-body experience. I was looking it up and looking at myself doing that and just flipped. I walked up to our stoop ready to kick your head off for changing me and turning me into this… This… thing! But then I saw you and -”

“You know your parents aren’t the best example of a healthy marriage.”

“Yeah. But when I saw you, it’s like our entire relationship played over in my brain.” Annie’s cheeks started reddening. “Fuck-marry-kill. It hit me. I want this. I’ve wanted this since before I even realized I want this.”

“You are so bloody weird.”

“I know.” Annie grinned. “But I do want this. I really, really want this. But on my terms.”

“What about my terms? They don’t matter?”

“Not when you’re not around much... No.” Annie smirked.

“You cheeky little dwarf!” Ben dropped his cigarette box and picked Annie up, throwing her body over his shoulder and smacking her bum. “Fine. Fine. We’ll do it on your terms.”

###

“Cut!”

Jamie and Annie exhaled and slumped their shoulders, their royal stance relaxing. They knew another take was coming and stayed in place. Jamie put a loose strand of Annie’s hair back where it should have been while Annie adjusted his costume.

“So? Elvis has left the building?” Jamie asked, looking at his poor attempt at fixing Annie’s hair and hoping no one will notice.

“Yep, left in the middle of last night.” Annie kept her voice low and her face straight.

“Is everything… you know,” Jamie frowned, “alright?”

“We’re getting married.”

Jamie choked on his own spit and started coughing frantically.

“Wrong pipe?” Annie asked with a lopsided smile.

“You’re getting -” he realized how loud he was and composed himself, “you’re getting married?!”

“Legally, yeah.” Annie nodded slightly. “Nothing big.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Annie said and rolled on her feet, rocking from her toes to her heels, stretching her arms back. “I know. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Wait, what?”

“Action!” the director yelled.

###

“Hey, buddy.” Ben smiled and put the phone on speaker as he wolfed down his lunch. “How’s the tour?”

“Ben Cardy is having a blast, lemme tell ya.” Joe’s words slurred slightly.

“Are you drunk?” Ben put his sandwich down.

“One would say that I could possibly be, yes.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“We’re going to a karaoke bar!” Joe announced. “I’m Winnie The Pooh.”

“Of course you are.” Ben chuckled. “So, I see you’re having fun without me.”

“Meh.” Joe shrugged. “What else is happening? How was the weekend?”

“Annie and I got into a bit of a messy fight.” Ben recounted. “Almost broke up but then we sorted it all out and now we’re going to get ma - haaaaaah -”

“Ben?” Joe’s voice rose an octave. “Hello? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben shook his head clear, “we’re going to get… Um... Marigolds. For our garden.”

Ben’s eyebrows knotted as he thought about what he just said.

“Marigolds?”

“Uh-huh. Annie wants ‘em.” Ben smacked his forehead and pursed his lips.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, anyways.” Ben was suddenly in a rush. “I better get going. Have fun without me!”

“Are you sure everything’s alright?”

“Yep. Everything’s perfect. Talk soon!”

Ben hung up the call and groaned. This is a secret he’s going to struggle to keep.

###

“Cut! Right! Great job, you two!” the director called out, finally giving Annie and Jamie their lunch break.

“You’re getting married?!” Jamie wrapped an arm around Annie and hissed. “What?!”

“Yeah.”

“And I can’t tell anyone because…?”

“I said so.”

“What?!”

“Yep.” Annie popped the ‘p’. “So, there’s that.”

“Annie, are you going through a psychotic break? Are you hearing voices and seeing things? Are you… are you high right now?!” Jamie put both of his hands on her shoulders, scrutinizing her face for any sign of insanity or intoxication. “Can you hear colors? Taste voices?”

“I’m not -” Annie started. “What?!”

“Exactly!”

“Why are you freaking out?” Annie raised an eyebrow, her head tilted curiously. “You’re allegedly engaged, too. Shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“Allegedly?” Jamie blinked at Annie.

“C’mon, Jamie.” Annie took one of his hands and led him towards the trailers. “It’s a PR stunt. Everybody knows.”

“Pardon?”

“What, we have a huge fight, and you go on a whole mental meltdown,” Annie looked over her shoulder as she tugged him along, “and suddenly you meet Alison -”

“Madison.”

“Madison.” Annie corrected herself, rolling her eyes. “Right. Anyways, Madison suddenly pops out of the blue?”

“You are so…” Jamie stopped in his tracks. “I can’t even begin to -”

“What?”

“You’re definitely high on something.” Jamie snickered and brushed past her. “Go get help, Annie! Addiction is a disease!”

“Fuck off!” Annie laughed and flipped him off before she chased after him.

“You met her! She babysat your demonic little lovechild!”

“I wasn’t saying she’s made up, I was saying your engagement is a fraud.”

“It’s not a fraud.”

“When’s the wedding, then?”

“November 25th!” Jamie shot back.

“Of what year?” Annie smirked, tongue-in-cheek.

“Get over here!” Jamie pulled Annie’s hand and shoved her into his trailer, laughing.

Neither of them noticed Clara and Mike standing near the vending machines and staring at them, out of ear-shot but definitely within sight.

###

“Dr. McCarthy,” Annie’s voice cracked slightly as she tried to stay comfortable and relaxed, legs spread wide open, “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Hypothetically,” Annie started, “if we were to remove the IUD, how long would it take for the effects to… Er... Stop?”

“Hypothetically, of course,” Dr. McCarthy said with a knowing smile, “for someone your age and without any health conditions… Anywhere between four to six months, technically.”

Annie looked at the fluorescent ceiling lights as she tried to do the math - Rory’s 7 months old now, which means Annie will be fertile again when Rory is 11 months old, and if she conceives quickly, that means Rory will have a baby brother or sister before she’s even two years old.

“Oh.” Annie finally said, frowning. “What are the chances of that happening? Conceiving right when that timeframe of four months ends?”

“That depends on so many factors, really,” Dr. McCarthy rolled her chair back and took off her latex gloves. “Are we still hypothetical?”

“Of course.”

“Considering it only took one time for you and Ben to conceive,” Dr. McCarthy started, “I’d say your chances aren’t bad at all. Then again, when actively trying for a baby the stress and anticipation of it alone can affect conception and then - who knows?”

“Is it alright if I call Ben and put him on speaker phone while we discuss this?” Annie fidgeted with the hem of her t-shirt.

“Go ahead.” Dr. McCarthy smiled and brought over Annie’s backpack.

Annie fished around inside and pulled out her phone, quickly calling Ben.

“Hello?” Ben’s voice came through.

“I’m at Dr. McCarthy’s -” Annie started.

“Is something wrong?” Ben cut her off.

“No, why would anything be wrong?” Annie groaned. “I asked her about taking the IUD out.” Annie waited for Ben’s response, but was answered with silence and the noises of traffic and passers-by. “Hello?”

“Are you pulling my leg right now?”

“She most certainly isn’t!” Dr. McCarthy chimed in. “I was just explaining to Annie that it could take four to six months to be able to conceive again but it depends on many, many factors. Stress is a big one of them.”

“I see…” Ben urged her to carry on.

“So even if we do take it out, there’s no guarantee you’ll have another right after that timeframe of the effects wearing off. Could take as long as a year, even.”

“Oh!” Annie sounded chipper. “Well, then!”

“I really wouldn’t advise messing with your hormones like that, Annabelle.” Dr. McCarthy sighed. “Once I remove this, you’ll have cramps, mood swings, spotting…”

“Take it out.” Ben said.

“Ben!”

“What?” he laughed. “Take it out. We’ll forget it’s not even there. If a baby happens -”

“Stop talking!” Annie commanded. “I’ll call you when I get home?”

“Take it out, doc!” Ben said hurriedly before hanging up.

“Well?” Dr. McCarthy looked at Annie expectantly. “What’s it gonna be?”

###

Ben laid on his hotel bed, drumming his fingers on his belly and wiggling his toes. He knew Rory should be asleep by now, and waited for Annie’s call, his phone right next to his body. When it finally rang, a huge smile appeared on his face as he took the call.

“So you were lying about not being ready for another baby, too?” Ben purred smugly.

“Oh no,” Annie’s smirk was audible. “I’m not ready for another baby.”

“So you didn’t take it out, then?”

“No. Not just yet, anyways.” Annie’s voice was like liquid sunshine for Ben. Even though she said something he wasn’t happy about, he couldn’t help but feel at ease. “After you’re done with this film, we’ll discuss it again.”

“That’s more than I could ever ask for.” Ben played with the strings on the waistband of his sweatpants. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Not ruling it out altogether.” Ben bit the tip of his tongue. “Not pulling another Annie…”

“Oh, sod off.” Annie rolled her eyes.

“I almost blurted out we’re getting married.” Ben confessed and shut his eyes tight, prepared for impact. “Ended up telling Joe we’re getting marigolds for our garden.”

“Marigolds?” Annie scoffed.

“Well, what was I supposed to say?!” Ben quipped.

“Mangos? Magic 8 balls? Macchinettas?” Annie suggested. “Maine-coon-fucking-cats?!”

“Oh. Those are good options.”

“Ben, you swore on your own life and you best believe I will kill you if you tell anyone about this.” Annie hissed.

“I know.”

“I told Jamie.” Annie said. “He’ll help us hide it. You’d better not say a bloody word to anyone. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Annie.” Ben sighed. “Are you done yelling at me, now?”

###

Clara walked into Jamie’s trailer to find Annie lounging about, flipping through a magazine, in regular clothes.

“What are you doing here?” Clara asked. “Thought you finished filming for today hours ago.”

“Jamie is treating Rory and me to dinner.” Annie said, not looking up from her magazine. “Might as well wait for him here and go pick her up together. Then straight for dinner.”

“Huh.” Clara crossed her arms.

“What?” Annie flipped the page.

“You’re so… chummy.” Clara noted. “Thought you two hated each other and were only friendly for appearance’s sake.”

“I don’t hate Jamie. Never did.” Annie laughed, eyes fixed on the glossy pages in her hand. “What are you doing here?”

“What?” Clara seemed shocked by the mere question.

“This is Jamie’s trailer, why are you here?” Annie finally looked over at her best friend. “Need something?”

“Was going to borrow a smoke, actually.” Clara said with a huff. “Is that alright with you, your majesty?” Annie gestured with her hand and shrugged. Clara found Jamie’s pack of smokes and took one, hesitating before leaving the trailer. “Is everything alright with Ben?”

“Sure,” Annie nodded. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

###

“Cut!” the director called, breaking Annie’s and Jamie’s kiss. They were re-doing a scene from one of the earlier episodes that came out ‘wonky’. They kissed passionately and abruptly stopped for an hour now. They couldn’t help but burst out laughing every time the director called out ‘cut!’. Their lips were raw and puffy.

“Can we please end this already?” Jamie cried dramatically.

“Oh, as if you’re suffering!” Annie snorted.

“Touch ups!” the director ordered and Annie and Jamie stood still like dolls, getting their make-up fixed.

“They seem to be enjoying this…” Clara mused from behind the monitors.

“What’s that?” Mike asked, distracted by a cute intern walking by.

“Look at them.” Clara nodded at the two. “Lovey-dovey all of a sudden.”

“They’re just getting along.” Mike shrugged. “Let them live.”

“They never just get along.” Clara bit her thumbnail. “Not like this.”

Annie and Jamie got back in their places, making funny faces at each other while the lighting crew worked it’s magic. When everything was all set, the director called ‘action!’ - and Annie and Jamie were kissing with fervour, once again.

Clara watched them through the monitor and squinted, her mouth puckered up as she tried to make sense of this new situation. Jamie’s hand worked it’s way up Annie’s waist and cupped her breast, making Clara gasp with realisation.

“She’s cheating on Ben!” Clara whisper-screamed at Mike. “Oh my God!”

“She is not -” Mike started and then watched the make-out session unfold on the monitor. “Oh. Crap. That’s...”

###

“Gwil?” Annie answered her phone in utter confusion. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah! Just, you know, missed my Banana.” Gwilym said, a weird cheeriness in his voice. “How’s Rory?”

“Great! She’s just starting to stand up without holding onto anything for, like, split-seconds and -”

“Oh, that’s great!” Gwilym cut her short. “And Ben?”

“You probably talk to him more often than I do.” Annie noted. “I should be asking you that question, not the other way around.”

“Funny.” Gwilym scoffed. “So… Everything’s good, then?”

“Gwilly, you’re starting to creep me out.” Annie sat down on the closest chair she could find, her dress rustling. “Is everything okay? Are you cry-baby-drunk again?”

“What? No!” Gwilym retorted. “I’m fine! Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah?” Annie furrowed her brows. “Oh no. Is this the onset of Dementia? I know that as you get older it’s a condition and all and you’re basically elderly but -”

“Yeah, you’re just fine.” Gwilym laughed. “Anyways, everything’s great. I’m not drunk. Don’t have Dementia. Just… wanted to check up on you, I guess.”

“That’s nice. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Banana. Call me whenever!” Gwilym almost commanded. “Anytime you need to talk or vent or -”

“Gwil, what’s going on?”

“Just… if you need me, I’m right here, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, now.” Annie lilted.

“Bye, Banana.” Gwil said before hanging up.

Annie put her phone on the table next to her and stared blankly into the air in front of her. She didn’t even notice Jamie walked up to her until he stood mere feet away from her, snapping his fingers to wake her from her odd trance-like state.

“Gwil just called,” Annie looked up at her read-headed co-star and, now, confidant, “asking if everything’s alright with Rory and Ben and me...?”

###

Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. Annie had just finished a scene with Mike and felt absolutely knackered. She didn’t even see Ben standing around behind the monitors until she physically almost walked right past him, tired and dazed. She stopped in her tracks and looked to the side, a big smile lighting up her face.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Picking you up so we could go take Rory home and have some us time.” Ben held his arms out for Annie to walk into. “Long week?”

“So long. Re-shoots abundant and Clara is acting very, very iffy.”

“Iffy? How?” Ben rubbed Annie’s back as they hugged.

“Not sure…” Annie released Ben from her embrace and took his hand. “I need to change out of this and then we can leave.”

“Actually… we still have a whole hour before Rory’s pickup time...” Ben smirked and pulled her back to him, his chest flat against her back and his voice sending shivers down her spine. “I have a better idea, your majesty.”

###

Clara was just on her way to her car when she passed by Annie’s trailer and heard moaning. Looking over at Jamie’s trailer, she noticed all lights were off and that it seemed desolate. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and adjusted her tote’s straps.

Muttering to herself, she walked over to Annie’s trailer. Now was her chance to catch Annie and Jamie in the act and tear into them. Let them know that they are both making the worst mistake of their lives. That she’s going to tell Ben and… What’s-her-name. That she’s not going to keep their little secret anymore. That what they are doing, although very characteristic of them both, is a super shitty thing to do.

She tiptoed up the three steps and took a deep breath. Then, she reached for the handle and barged in.

“Alright, arseholes!” Clara started before screaming like a banshee.

Ben was stark naked and thrusting, his head thrown back in pleasure, his tongue sticking out between his teeth, standing behind Annie. One of his feet on the coffee table, the other on the floor. Annie, still in some parts of her costume, was bent over, holding onto the leather sofa armrest, in complete disarray.

“What the fuck? Ben!” Clara eyed him. She scanned his figure, from head to toe. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

“Clara you have to stop walking in to people’s trailers like that.” Annie fumbled for something to cover herself and Ben with. “What the bloody hell?!”

“I thought you were here with…” Clara’s voice drifted.

“With who?!” Annie snapped.

“I just -” Clara shook her head. “Never mind. Sorry for, uh, interrupting.”

###

“We will, we will rock you...” Ben sang quietly, bouncing Rory gently in his arms twice and giving her bum a soft pat. “We will, we will rock you...”

After fifteen minutes of bounce-bounce-pats, Rory finally fell back to sleep. Ben grabbed the baby monitor and went to his and Annie’s bedroom, pleasantly surprised to find her awake and typing away on her laptop.

“So, I took a day off for errands and such on Monday,” Annie said without looking up from the screen, “just to get everything clarified and figure out exactly what we need to do for the marriage thing.”

Ben put the baby monitor on the nightstand and collapsed onto the bed beside her.

“Annie,” he started, rolling over on his back. “When you said Jamie was helping us hide it…”

“Oh, right.” Annie smiled devilishly. “So, the plan is to make everybody think there’s something going on with Jamie and me.”

“Aha.” Ben propped himself up on his elbows. “Why must everyone think that something is going on with you two?”

“Because that will give me the perfect excuse to leave early and not hang out with Clara as much.” Annie explained, pulling the laptop screen down. “You know how nosey she is. She gave you a great demonstration earlier.”

“So when she barged in -”

“She probably thought I was with Jamie.” Annie’s eyes widened with realisation. “Oh my God. Gwilym.”

“Not a name I’d ever expect to hear my wife call out in our bed.”

“No, shut up. Twat.” Annie laughed. “I meant the phone call. He called me all concerned and -”

“You think Clara might’ve said something?”

“She did scare you into thinking I’m breaking up with you when I went to Jamie’s last week.” Annie shrugged. “Remember? ‘Start praying’ and all?”

“It would be so much easier to just tell everyone -”

“Ben, for the love of God, stop talking.” Annie said, clamping Ben’s mouth shut with her fingers. “We’re doing this on my terms, otherwise you’re not getting another baby.”

“Oh, that’s low.” Ben mumbled through closed lips.

#########

TAGLIST: @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @qweenly @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @justgivemethekeys @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @deacy-dearest @pinkmarvel @onceuponadetectivedemigod

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emblemevents-newyear · 5 years

Text

Set 1: Howling Wyverns vs. Pride of Hoshido

"Good morning, everyone! We've seen some very...entertaining matches so far, haven't we? So let’s get right into it! Next up we have..."

HOWLING WYVERNS VS. PRIDE OF HOSHIDO

"Everyone, take your places...On your marks, get set, go!"

"Preparations comes first, of course! Captain Nora's giving everyone a good glance-over, while Adal on the other team is checking his side. Swampy seems to have missed the memo, though, as she attempts to fire a nonexistent ball...Remember, you have to load the cannons yourself!”

"Now Gaius loads up his cannon with alarming speed, firing straight ahead -- or so he thinks?! It goes straight for Bat instead! And Yuuto’s cannon hits Tiki’s chest...er...I hope you guys warm up to this soon.” (Bat [HW] and Tiki [PoH] eliminated!)

"First Mate Morgan attempts to load her cannon and fire straight at Cap -- I mean, Lord Admiral Corrin -- and she misses...Now, she's trying again, but she forgets to turn the cannon around! That's the wrong direction, Morgan! Oh no...Maybe she should take it a little slower next time..."

"On the other hand, Lydia blows a ball through the enemy ship's mast. A good try, but that's not worth any points...And First Mate Corona responds in kind. Now we have both ships with holes in the mast -- and not a point for either..."

"Er, anyway, Vevela looks very focused as she prepares to aim, releasing a shot with such force, it's hit First Mate Morgan AND Clara before it bounces away! I wonder how she did that...through sheer force of will? (Morgan [HW] and Clara [HW] eliminated! +6 to PoH)

“Carrie hits Aqua’s leg. (+1 to HW) And now, uh...I'm seeing some friendly fire here. Haru misfires and hits Nora's leg, Admiral Corrin gets Yuuto's leg instead of...wherever he was firing, and...Karin and Captain Nora bump into each other very awkwardly. Rather than hit the rest of Mikoto, Captain Nora's ball hits the...foot. Gaius also gets Adal’s foot...Is that good aim?" (+4 to HW)

"Pride of Hoshido is scrambling to get a few hits back, but I don't think this is working out too well...Admiral Corrin is trying to see how everyone's doing and -- Oh, gods, Laegjarn's got her cannon the wrong way! R-right in the head...Sorry, you won't get points for that!"

"Uh, with that, to the next round -- Yuuto attempts another quick load, and this time he's landed one on Captain Nora’s torso! (+3 to PoH) Swampy tries to fire off again, but it’s another bust -- she hits herself! (Swampy [PoH] eliminated) Laegjarn aims again and -- hits Vevela instead. Yuuto and Mikoto bump into each other while rushing to load the cannons, Aqua misfires onto First Mate Corona, and...well, let's just say Hoshido's teamwork needs some...er...work. In the chaos, Carrie lands a hit on Admiral Corrin's arm, but the poor ship masts are taking hits instead...Maybe we need a little break."

"Lydia loads up a cannon just waiting to fire and -- Oh no, Captain Nora gets caught in it! Friendly fire, guys...Well, at least Captain Nora and Laegjarn manage to hit each others' arms! (+1 to HW, +1 to PoH) Gaius gets Admiral Corrin's foot...again with the feet? (+2 to HW) At least it seems the Wyverns are learning to watch out for their friendly fire, as Karin and Haru duck safely out of the way as their teammates’ shots fly past them and into the enemy ship. Hoshido, on the other hand...Yuuto and Vevela bumped into each other heading for the same cannon, and First Mate Corona loads hers all too hasty! She's firing all over the place, and it's spun -- back towards her! Not only does the cannonball bounce off First Mate Corona's torso, it hits Aqua on its path too! Sorry Aqua, you're out! Guys, I'm getting kind of worried about you...!" (Aqua [PoH] eliminated)

"Mikoto reloads quickly and...hits herself in the torso instead. Oof. (Mikoto [PoH] eliminated) Haru, trying to hit someone amidst the gauging and scrambling, hits Karin square in the chest instead... (Karin [HW] eliminated) And it is not Laegjarn's day, as she’s ending her rather disastrous career with a self-destruction to the torso! (Laegjarn [PoH] eliminated) Meanwhile, Adal and Carrie exchange arm hits, and Captain Nora barrels a ball towards Admiral Corrin's hand. (+3 to HW, +1 to PoH) And oh -- Vevela and Gaius look like their trying to hit each other, and they...hit themselves instead. That's a double knockout...!" (Gaius [HW] and Vevela [PoH] eliminated)

"Now we've only got four members of each team left...Captain Nora, Haru, Carrie, and Lydia of the Wyverns...Against Admiral Corrin, First Mate Corona, Adal, and Yuuto of the Pride of Hoshido. We're in the last stretch, everyone! Give it your best shot!"

"Well, actually, I guess everyone is cooling down for a second. Carrie and Lydia observe the situation from the crow’s nest, then scramble back down to discuss their strategy, while Pride of Hoshido eyes the other team and reloads their cannons. Who will make a move first...?"

"It’s Yuuto, who tries to get a sneaky hit on the enemy team, but Adal happens to be rushing by! Sorry, Adal, you’re out! (Adal [PoH] eliminated) While the others stand by, Captain Nora aims low, but...I think that’s a little too low! The ball bounces rather miraculously and hits Haru’s head... (Haru [HW] eliminated) Then, suddenly the barrage kicks up again! I'm having trouble keeping up this back and forth, there's cannonballs everywhere...and I think a return of our all-too-friendly fire. Lord Admiral Corrin and Yuuto manage to crash into each other and knock themselves out...(Corrin [PoH] and Yuuto [PoH] eliminated) While Lydia misfires gravely into her own torso...” (Lydia [HW] eliminated)

“And I think, seeing these mishaps, everyone is a bit on edge. First Mate Corona, the last one of her team remaining, eyes the other two hesitantly, and Carrie and Nora get a bit too hasty, their shots both hitting the deck, but not Corona. Still, two against one doesn’t look to good...”

“Corona’s doing pretty well dodging where she can and attempting to aim at the Wyverns, but we’ve got nothing so far! Captain Nora’s shot barrels through the mast...Oh, and Carrie -- just barely hits Corona’s leg, that is. (+1 to HW) Corona’s still in, but things are looking dire...”

“I couldn’t really hear it over that cannon blast, but I think Nora just taunted Corona about something? Huh...Well, meanwhile, Carrie’s run up to the Crow’s Nest, perhaps devising a plan, while Nora keeps trying to aim for Corona, who’s hanging in there! There’s a chance! Nora and Carrie get too hasty, and they bump into each other trying to rush towards the same cannon! Corona tries to capitalize on the moment, loading the cannon and aiming as quick as she can, but -- Oh no!”

"She misfires, and the ball fires back at her torso!”

(First Mate Corona [PoH] eliminated...)

“That’s, er...I’m sorry to see it happen, it seems like everyone panicked a bit there -- but that’s a wrap! Nora and Carrie are the last ones standing for Howling Wyverns, so... congratulations! I think.” (+5 to HW)

“Now, let’s tally up all the points...”

Howling Wyverns: 12 + 5 = 17 Points! MVP: Weaponmaster Carrie Pride of Hoshido: 11 Points! MVP: Queen Vevela

“Just barely and saved by the last-one-standing bonus...Howling Wyverns takes the lead! That was quite the conclusion...or lack of...but good job, everyone! Take a well-needed rest until your next battle, alright?”

(( Simulation results are under the cut: ))

#Mod Lyn #pirate panic ;; summer solstice #season segue ;; summer solstice

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