#and then they all blamed the wife like they didn't all agree and make her be the bad cop

[shaisuki]

HEART OF GLASS

It wasn't your place to dictate what his heart wants but sometimes you wished his affections were directed to you — just once. was it difficult to spare you crumbs of affection or when Zayne noticed how you start to pull away from him and it was too late for him to realize how damaged the relationship was you desperately trying to build and you got tired of wanting him. can he still get you back? or must he turn to drastic measures?

❆ ₊⋆ ──── notes. requested by @itsmearia01 . to be continued in part two

❆ ₊⋆ ──── content warnings. angst + unrequited love + arranged marriage + emotional neglect + emotional cheating + non mc reader + insecurities + doubts + lack of affection + slow burn + drinking + clubbing.

READ PART TWO HERE. PART THREE

It is said the most successful of marriages comes from respect and it shall evolve to mutual understanding for the parties involved.

That's what you thought to yourself when you come of age that you were informed of a arranged marriage to your childhood friend, Zayne.

It had come to that arrangement for Zayne's parents have saved your mother from the complications of birth just to have you and upon your birth comes the arrangement that their child and you shall be brought to union later in life. It was a fine match indeed. That's what your parents and Zayne's agreed.

Thus, it came hurting you later at life.

Zayne is respectful and never treated you different from others. Although he ignored you most of the time and feels like you didn't exist in his life. Well, who could blame him. It wasn't a match he chose for himself, it was his parents and yours. It was unfair that he didn't have much of a choice.

Blinded by your admiration for him — it didn't deter you how cold he was to you. Zayne's heart was made of ice and maybe you can melt it. You knew Zayne was a softie after all. Cold and stoic he may come, he did care. He likes animals, children too that's why he's close to his patients. He's also fond of sweets! That's why you pack him extra sweets and learned to make macarons, his favorites.

That's why it never bothered you when he treats you like air. At least he knows he have a fiancee. That's what you say to yourself. Convincing that one day, Zayne will look at you in your eyes.

It was far fetched dream though but you could dream. Looking positive.

Not until she came in the picture and oh, how you wished you were her. What efforts that you poured just for him to say a word about you takes her for only a second. Zayne looks at her eyes. Zayne compliments her and he always noticed her first.

You did try but all it takes for her was to come and melt the frozen heart of Zayne. His heart wasn't totally frozen, it was incapable of being thawed when it comes to you. He's sweet on her and that's when you realize — you lost the battle, a long time ago.

He was with you but he's mind was with thoughts of her. You knew he wasn't going to pursue cardiology if it wasn't for her. She's sick. A heart syndrome but Zayne spent his studies understanding the human heart and the Protocore Syndrome. It was all for her. His achievements was for her.

How could you also compete? Zayne fondly mentioned her that she's a deepspace hunter and possesses a rare type of Evol — Anhaunsen Class: Resonance. Amazing! Good with kids, cheerful, and she's pretty with her pale skin, long straight dark brown hair and she's thin too. You were not.

You can't even get the same response as Zayne would have spoken to her. He deeply cares for her. Why wouldn't he be? Zayne even took as being her primary care physician.

It doesn't matter though, you still support him for you were going to be his wife and he as your husband. If he doesn't want that, he should have called off the engagement a long time ago.

And as soon-to-be-his wife, you can endure it. That's how a marriage should work when another one endures for the comfort of the other.

It doesn't matter when he prioritize her. She's sick, what could be your reason. He's her physician.

It didn't hurt when he forget to eat the lunch that you prepared for him. He's a doctor, he's busy with operations even you later learned that they had lunch together.

It didn't hurt you when he gave you a plushie knowing that it was a duplicate and she owned one too.

It didn't hurt when he's uninterested to you, he could be obvious about it but he didn't.

It simply didn't hurt cause you were used to it and then one day, you stopped caring. You didn't even have the strength to cry and if you did, you'd be joining Heartbreaker crying near the trash bins.

The clock read one pm. It's lunch time for Zayne and he didn't have the time to grab food in the cafeteria when it's only thirty minutes away for the next scheduled operation and he remembers you always brought him lunch. It's usually placed in his desk. Wrapped in pastel blue square cloth, dotted with snowflakes and a snowman in the middle but there was nothing. Yvonne hasn't informed him earlier of your presence so maybe you forgot it.

Checking his phone, there wasn't a message too. He ignored it. He presses his phone off and decided he will just grab a bite later.

At first, it didn't bother him.

How your messages were a rare occurrence nowadays. A casual — how's your day? Or a simple good morning. Usually when he wakes up it's the influx of messages coming from you. Texting him what he wanted for dinner or what how's he feeling for the day or the simple cat video that you know he likes. Now, he's staring at the screen. The last message were a week ago.

Then, how you don't speak anymore with mirth.

The café was nice. She recommended it. The atmosphere was cool and he doesn't hear your voice anymore. Quietly sitting while sipping your drink — your gaze fixated on a distance. You casually hum and that's the end.

“Is something bothering you?”

Wow. A full question. That's a first.

The ice in your drink clinks as put it in the table. Absentmindedly stirring the cold liquid with a straw. “It's nothing of concern.” Your gaze focused on the table. It wasn't wiped properly. You barely glanced at him.

“I won't push you to say something but I'm here to listen to you.” How assuring. Zayne notices how you didn't much respond. Casting a side eye glance, your eyebrows raising a bit and your lips pressed in a thin line.

He was about to say something when his phone rings. “Go on.” You weakly drawled. He swipes the phone to the left declining the call. “It's my day off. I shouldn't be bothered with work.”

A humorless chuckle left your mouth before you can stop it. Work. It's her. “I'm sorry, you don't reject calls like that, Zayne. Don't let me hinder your work.”

“No, my day offs are reserved for you.” He said with a small smile.

It was more like a obligation than willingness. He doesn't enjoy being with you. He rather prefers being with her.

“If you say so.” You finished your drink. Grabbing your shoulder bag, you stand up. “I shall not occupy much of your time. I'll be going.” Ignoring his comment, you pushed your chair.

“(Y/N), did I do something to upset you?”

You shaked your head in dismissal. “You didn't do anything to upset me. I have urgent matters to attend to, have a good day.”

“Do you want something for tonight.” He attempts again to offer you. Something to ease your mind.

“Don't bother.” Is what you said before leaving.

Later that evening, the doorbell rang. You were finishing the last touches of your makeup and you pat your brush down before putting the final touches of your makeup.

Opening the door, you were greeted by Zayne and usually, you've gone ecstatic. Always eager with him being in the room and you can only look at him indifferently.

“Zayne, I didn't know you were coming.” Opening the door wider to let him in. He took his coat and puts it in the rack. You noticed he was holding multiple plastic bags containing the contents of your grocery list. You ignored it.

The cardiologist followed you with his gaze. Noticing your all dolled up appearance. Your tube denim dress layered with a white shirt. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah. Clubbing with a few girlfriends.” Your voice clipped and you went back to your room to grab your bag.

“You don't like nightclubs.” He casually commented. Putting the groceries in their rightful places in the cupboard.

“I don't but it's a nice change. You know, you didn't have to stay here. You can go if you want.” Tapping the heel of your platform boots in the floor.

“It's fine. Do you want me to drive you there?” Zayne offerers. Loosening his tie.

“No.” You shortly replied and slammed the door.

It was a weekend. The club was packed with sweaty bodies crowding in the middle of the dance floor. The neon lights bouncing at the rhythm of the loud music. This wasn't your scene and yet, he sees you happily dancing with a friend. Laughing under the lights when your friend whispered.

Zayne have followed you. Concerned of your well-being.

It feels different and Zayne wasn't used to seeing you like this. Unexpected for someone who acts so proper and prim. He knows that everyone have pleasures but this was different.

He watches you drink. Downing a glass, shots after shots. Drinking the burning liquid like it was water. Zayne's brow furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. He approaches you.

The brightly colored glass looks tiny in your fingers. You admired the liquid sloshing as you tip it back and forth before bringing it to your lips but before you can drink it. A voice popped besides you.

“That's enough.” His tone firm, grabbing the shot glass from you and putting it on the table. You blink lazily, your movements light and your mouth looser. “Who do you think you are to say that it's enough?” It wasn't a question. You tried to grab the drink again but Zayne holds your wrist.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm not.”

“That's what people say when they're drunk.”

Zayne pulls you away from your table. Picking your handbag on the way as he excused you from your friends. You didn't even struggled when he dragged you away from them.

His black Audi A6 is parked and he opens the door to put you in the passenger seat before turning around to sit in the driver's seat. He rolled down the windows in your side. Zayne pulls the seatbelt, making sure you're properly strapped in your seat before doing his.

There's a purr coming from the car after he starts the engine. You remained silent. Eyes glossy and your lips curled. Silently staring at the city lights. You glanced at him and you never felt so resigned at a person. Is this how people felt when they got tired of chasing the person who remains so distant from them — cause if it is — you were done.

Zayne stole a glance at you. Your head propped in the window of his car. He can see the city lights twinkling in the reflection of your eyes. You were in no doubt at the edge of drunkenness. Has he not interfered you were probably wasted with a major hangover. He continued driving. His eyes on the road, his hands on the steering wheel.

The vehicle stopped in front of the building where your loft is located and you didn't bother to wait for him to open the door. Yanking your seatbelt and letting it slide to its place, you popped the door open and slipped. Walking towards the entrance in small wobbly steps.

Zayne followed you behind. Keeping up with your pace. “Careful.” He steadies you up when you almost tripped. His expression remained neutral even you recoiled from his touch.

You messily swiped your card before punching the numbers before stumbling inside. Your shoes felt incredibly tight. Your fingers fumbling over the laces. Zayne kneels in front of you. Easily undoing the laces of your boots before pulling the zippers down in the side. He holds your ankle before tugging your boots. He did the other part.

You stare at the man in front of you. Zayne was like a snowflake in your palm — melting. Slipping from your fingers and only to be returned to something new. Different but the same. Sucks he's not that in form to be with you.

“You should rest now. You don't want a hangover in the morning.”

“I told you, I'm not drunk.”

“Then can you tell me what I did something to upset you?”

“For being a party pooper.”

“It's not like you to act that way. Your well-being is my concern.”

“Come on, don't give me the doctor crap.”

“I'm your fiance. I should look after you. You're my priority.”

Priority. Hah.

A hollow laughed escaped your lips. Giggling as you stand up and finding your footing. You stumbled in the living room. Your shoulders shaking in laughter. It must be the alcohol.

Zayne looks at you — confused.

“I'm not your priority, Zayne. I'm an obligation. Something you keep cause it is needed and we both know it.” You look at him in his eyes and your heart breaks a little.

You exhaled before letting out a shaky gasp. Tears brimming at the corner of your eyes. You hated being weak. You hated being hurt.

“You started being concerned when I stopped bothering you.” Then the spiel of you being ignored. Of being hurt began to unveil.

“Don't you ever talked about me being your priority? I'm your priority? Is that so? Cause the last time I checked — ” You brought your finger to your lips, the habit you do when you're thinking before looking at him. “I wasn't for the last time - No, wait. I wasn't for the last years. No, no, no. I wasn't in your whole life.”

A tear slipped out and you furiously wiped it away in frustration. Mad at yourself for trying, for being such a fool.

“You are drunk and you must rest now.” Zayne went to approach you but you slapped his hand away.

“I'm sober as I can be and don't you dare ask me again why I'm upset. I'm upset all of the things. I'm so sick of trying! Of trying to chase after your affections.!”

“You should have said in the first place that you didn't want to do anything with me rather than ignore and act like it's your obligation to be with me! I can understand it! I'm not so dumb, Zayne!”

The words rings in the space of the room. Zayne remains impassive. His green eyes staring right back at you and you felt pathetic. A outburst is all you needed for him to look at you.

Blinking back the tears, your fists clenched on the side. You have lost your words. One must act a fool to be noticed. You lost the strength to speak one more word. The rush of blood pumping in your veins felt like drops.

A beat of silence passed. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at you.

“(Y/N), I—”

“I'm glad you still remember my name.” You said dismissively before running back to your room and slamming the door shut.

[puddinrin]

IDIOTS EVERYWHERE! >TEAM THANOS X F!READER

summary: being the babysitter of literal grown men with your gorgeous wife se-mi

pairings: se-mi x f!reader (wlw because we all wanna be her bitch), platonic! thanos, nam gyu, min su & gyeong su x f!reader

warnings: man children

a/n: (name) is a fashion designer!

part one: lady boss! here

literal man child. all of them.

you think min su at least is more responsible than the other three

but no, boy can literally be utterly clueless sometimes

namgyu at 11.40 am

min su ask lady boss if we could bring allen into the apartment

dw u cute she wont get mad at u

"(name), nam gyu asked if they could bring the german shepherd from downstairs into the apartment." min-su asked, looking up from his phone after reading the message that was sent to him.

"sure. tell them to get its dog certificate from the owner and it can sleep in my room too." you replied, full of sarcasm as you and se-mi, who let out a snicker at that - prepare the coffee table for lunch.

min-su perked up, shocked that you agreed without any arguments. "really?!" you looked at him, baffled, searching for any signs he realised that you were just being sarcastic.

spoiler alert, he didn't. god bless this man and your patience.

thanos has a habit of holding the handle of your bag when going through a crowd

his brain shut down at random times

so he needs you or nam gyu or anyone else to make sure he don't face plant into a pole or smth

while nam gyu holds you by the back of your neck while he walks behind you

leading you to wherever you guys are going

you and se-mi love to spite the others by being lovey dovey with each other

can't help with how se-mi can't keep her hands to herself too

while you walk with the others, she has a hand on your waist or hip, keeping you close to her

she love holding your hands too

keeping your intertwined hands in the pocket of her black leather coat when it's cold outside.

"your hands so cold, baby." se-mi frowned as she held your hands, caressing your skin. she then intertwined your fingers together before putting it in the pocket of her black coat.

you smiled giddily as you couldn't help but feel flustered from her action. "let's get some warm soup later, the one you like." she suggested, rubbing your knuckles with her thumb.

"okay." you nodded, before holding her arm with your other hand, hugging it.

from behind, nam gyu dramatically gagged at the scene in front of him. "gosh, couples."

thanos groaned, slinging his arm around min-su's shoulder, pulling him to his side. "min-su, cutie. come on, hold my hand too."

"i refuse." he replied, trying to push him away.

you have to hold back se-mi from killing them

however, se-mi doesn't bother holding you back from jumping them whenever they get on your last nerve

she encourages you to send them to hell and have the devil personally give them a tour of it

especially when you're taking measurements for their outfits

"su bong, hold still!" you groaned, smacking his stomach. he let out a playful 'ow', holding his stomach dramatically. "so fierce, senorita."

nam gyu chuckled as he watched the scene before him, snacking on a bag of lays chips.

"don't blame me if your pants drop in the middle of your performances because i couldn't get the right measurement." you threatened lightly, circling the measuring tape around his hips.

thanos gasped, grinning as he clapped his hands. "the fans would love that, wouldn't they?!"

gyeong-su cackled, looking through the designs of outfit that you had planned for them on your ipad. "nah, you would blow up on X."

nam gyu laughed, brushing his hands against each other to get rid of any chips dust. "that would be great publicity for black stones wouldn't that?"

"oh my god, no one wants to see your weeny, choi su bong!"

se-mi didn't have to hold you back from killing them

but she had to hold you back from strangling yourself with the measuring tape hanging around your neck

they love taking pictures of you

they your personal paparazzi

especially thanos, nam gyu and se-mi

it could range from you looking like an utter goddess that graced the world to the most mememable picture of you.

their birthday posts and instagram stories of you is whole rollercoaster ride

> thanostone4u

liked by semilw, gyeongsuuue and 23k others

thanostone4u happy birthday to my highness

> thanostone4u's story

caption: came to support us or to make yourself at home?

> namgyu124's story

caption: girl complains i don't take enough candid pics of her 😒

> namgyu124's story

caption: she's missin slippers bcs girl threw them at me

> semilw

liked by namgyu194, minsublackstone, blackstoneofficial and 18k others

semilw my princess

> semilw's story

caption: she amazes me everyday

[dilf-docs]

I Recall Late November, Holdin' My Breath

husband!pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: becoming an actress has always been your dream, and this job you've taken to be elvira lind's assistant is a step closer to doors of an industry so far has only given you meaningless extra roles, but you get more than you bargained for.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, dry humping, fingering, humilliation kink (ooc but a girl can dream for a man to be mean on bed and cute outside of it), mutual pinning, hurt/comfort, holy trio of angst + jealousy + possessiveness, ptwt cameos went on vacation for this chapter, lots of pov change, why is this so long and tortuous omg my bad if it's shitty but my current delusion/pain is pouring into my works.. if y'all don't comment ill unalive myself didn't pull an all nighter with my statistics hw and this for nothing

word count: 12,515 words

side note: inspired by a comment left in the og call it what you want and this req. finally, this became a series! y'all love this couple too much and so do i! for the record, this has been imprisoned in my drafts since jan 20; i have no shame. i reallyyyyy tried to let it out of draft asylum for his bday―THAT BEING SAID HAPPY (four days late) BIRTHDAY TO MY 50 YEAR OLD BABYGIRL―but it got too long and i'm too tired with uni and midterms coming up. my procrastinating inconsistent slow updater ass is to blame as well, my bad ++ i made an edit because i love p a normal amount

part: prev | masterlist | next

You hated parties.

Scratch that. You hated parties where you didn't know anybody.

It isn't like you were anxious or an extreme introvert, and though you valued a lot the time you spent alone, it's more in the sense you can't help but overthink in this type of events, especially given the industry you're in. And so far, that industry had only given you meaningless roles. But it was better than nothing, of course, and you were glad to at least be in Netflix's call sheet for extra roles.

Your dream, however, was very much still alive. Hence, this job you've taken: working as Elvira Lind's PA, wife of famous actor Oscar Isaac. Did that guarantee you something? No, but it was closer than you were months ago. It is also the same reason why you're stuck in this party: Oscar Isaac's birthday, which you planned. You were forced to stay, both insisting it was unfair you did all that effort and didn't get to enjoy it. You didn't mind it, really: you loved planning parties. Thought, you felt in no position to deny the couple of anything, so you agreed.

Which brings you back to now, where you lay against one of the walls of the garden, sipping your drink: away from the music, chatter and people.

Today, the last thing you need is this.

You stare at your nails, bitten to the very finger in an anxious self-hating manner. It's a cruel reminder of today's failure: the audition, rejection burning in your back like a second skin.

You're growing tired of it: the closed doors in your face, the look of pity to let you finish even if you won't get the role, the condescending tone of I'm sorry, you're not what we're looking for.

You glance back at the party, your boss obviously having a good time with her husband. Well, at least she did. Sighing and trying to stay far away to be a Debbie Downer by yourself and not ruin the mood, you empty the glass in your hand in one gulp. Hey, maybe the alcohol will make the rest of the night more tolerable. Your aunt said you were a fun drunk once; you haven't seen her since you move to LA.

Isn't all this too depressing for a birthday party?

"Fuck" you exhale out loud, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against the wall.

"Rough night?"

You pay no mind to the new voice, deciding to sulk in private. So you keep your eyes close, humming as to answer: not out of wanting to engage on conversations or politeness, but because you hate silence.

"Looks like it"

More silence settles in. You refuse to open your eyes, hoping they're gone.

Despite it all, you find yourself replying. "You have no idea"

"At least there's a free bar" their voice is laced with mischief. "Very mindful of the person who organized this. And I know it wasn't Oscar, maldito tacaño" (fucking cheapskate)

Maybe it's because you shouldn't laugh, since it's your boss' husband. Or it's the way they haven't been deterred by your dry demeanor, or the fact that the voice sounds... familiar, for a reason you can't quite place.

"I did"

You open your eyes, turning to the person who decided the lonely sad looking woman on the pathetic silent corner of the garden was more interesting than the party going on behind.

"Ay, carajo!" you jump, soul practically leaving your body. You swear, after such shitty day, your head is playing games with you, and for some reason has decided to imagine your favorite actor as a coping mechanism. "Pedro Pascal?" (oh, damn)

He laughs, "Unless there's another way of calling me I'm not familiar with"

Of course he would be here. You organized the whole thing: went through the food and drinks as much as you went over the list of guests. But Elvira said that he probably wouldn't be able to make it, so of course, there was no reason to expect him nor try to put an extra effort in your look and plaster a fake smile.

Yet now he stands before you, and it's like your brain has crashed.

"Uh- You okay?"

"Definitely no" you're quick to answer, your voice sounding distant. "Now less"

"Oh!" he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, as his face flushes a pretty pink. "Is it my fault?"

He looks genuinely sorry about it, making you borderline distressed.

"Yes" Pedro raises his eyebrows, "but not how you're thinking. Yes, in the sense you're right here, right now, when you weren't supposed to. Ms. Elvira said you wouldn't make it but oh- Don't feel bad. This is my fault, for acting weird" you start rambling. "It's just, you're my favorite actor, and I we met while I'm wearing the worst dress in my closet on my worst day ever"

Pedro gives you a shy smile. "I would've never guessed"

You quirk an eyebrow, heart slamming against your chest, agitated.

"Guess what?"

He shrugs, as to mantain the mystery. "It's up to you to decide"

You look down, to your dress. You play with a loose thread as you speak.

"It's definitely not about the dress"

He laughs, but the sound is small, as if it was for you only. Like he wanted you to be the only one to hear it, like a secret of yours to keep.

"Can I tell you something?" he leans in, and the smell of clean and his cologne get in your nostrils. "I think you're the prettiest sight I've seen in a while"

The air is knocked out of your lungs at his breathless confession. The party goes quiet, and for a second, the cold of the condensation that spills from the drink and mingles with that of the night's wind is gone. All you know is there's a warmth you've never felt before, one that is settling in your chest like it's making itself a home, like he is entering your life for it to be felt now ever since.

Everything has changed.

"Please, stop talking" he looks shocked at your harsh words for a moment, but then your face turns redder by the second. "I think I'm going to throw up and I haven't even had a full drink yet" your glass sweating as much as you now a testament to this.

"Oh-" he sheepishly looks down. "I'm sorry"

It's been a long week. You still can't believe this is happening. How could anyone in their right minds believe so?

"I don't know you"

He offers you a small smile.

"I thought you said you were a fan"

You can't choose what burns more: your face, lungs or chest. It's like he's breaking you, little by little. You're folding. And it's the unknown that terrifies you: you're not exactly a control freak, nor a cold person, but this is all too new and too soon. All he had to do was look at you, make you feel seen, and you don't know if it's years of fighting to be noticed or the way you easily believe in every word he says. He might as well just caught you the moment he first spoke, world stopping to hear his every breath and your shaky heart.

You look at him, sternly, trying from a different angle.

"You can't just say things like that"

"Why not?" he tilts his head, "last time I checked, lying isn't bad"

You gulp, hardly.

"You don't mean it" you insist.

"Why not?" he repeats. "Is it that hard for yourself to believe you're pretty?"

"It's rather hard to believe Pedro Pascal of all people rather spend his time complimenting me in a room full of pretty and famous guests"

"I suppose I like telling things the way they are. And how I see it, no matter how much you try to downplay yourself, you're still the most interesting person in this room"

Your stomach can't decide if to tie in a knot or let the butterflies fly.

"You're trying to tell me I'm pretty?"

"It's even better when you say it" he purses his lips together, satisfied. "Don't you think?"

He leans against the wall, next to your small wallflower spot.

"Pretty" he whispers into the air, his exhale condescending into the night.

"I still can't believe you'd choose to be here" he looks at you, eyebrow raised. "I mean, how interesting can your friend's wife's PA be?"

He laughs, loudly. You don't think what you just said is that funny.

"What?"

"They did said you had a bit of a character"

You scoff, pouting lightly. Pedro sees your posture relax a bit, shoulders less tense, and smiles.

"My boss talks behind my back?"

He shots you a look. "Don't you do the same?"

You place a hand on your chest. "I'm actually a honest person. If I don't like you, I'll say it to your face. Same if I do"

"And how are you liking me so far?" he asks, smirking.

Pedro knows he's playing with dangerous waters, seeing the conflict in your eyes torn between letting go or holding back, but he can't help it. Ever since the moment he went through the door and caught your lonely figure in the back, away from the noise and the livelihood of the party, he was drawn to you, intrigued by your guarded posture. Like you were bracing yourself.

"Who's that?" Pedro asked Oscar.

"Elvira's new personal assistant" he answers. "I told you about her"

"You did?"

He's surprised about that. He thinks he'd remember.

"Yeah, y/n. Rings a bell?"

Oh, that y/n. "The one who got you the costumes for your kids last Halloween?"

He thinks of the picture Oscar sent him, the words accompanying the photo carrying love and pride for his children, all dressed up. The costumes were nice, detailed, like the person behind them just knew what they were doing.

"Yeah, she did them herself. Pretty smart and useful girl; been working with us for a while. Seems part of the family by now"

He nods, distracted. Oscar gives him a knowing stare accompanied by a smirk.

"Hey, why don't you go talk to her? Está toda solita, ¿no ves?" Oscar nudges him. "Use that nice smile of yours. She's had a pretty rough day" (she's all by herself, don't you see?)

Despite his interest in you, complimenting you (more like flirting) hadn't been exactly his plan, yet as soon as he went by your side, your perfume clouded his judgment and the sight of the silhouette of your curves under your flimsy dress made him dizzy. All common sense went out the window, and by Oscar's earlier reaction, something tells him his friend expected this to happen.

"So, the rumors are true" your voice breaks his train of thoughts, "you're a heartthrob"

The tip of his ears go red. God, he loves the way your eyes lit up with fierce passion, as if accepting some kind of game he isn't aware of. That fiery crack, spark of yours was all too consuming. Pedro finds himself drawn to the fire of your spirit, not minding the burn.

He can handle the heat, anyway.

"Look how the tables have turned" you say, smirking. "Am I making you nervous?"

Maybe not that much.

But your smile, victorious grin on display, carrying the same illusion of a child on a Christmas morning, brings him down to his knees. He finds himself wanting more of it, being the one to provoke it.

"Very" he decides to reply. "But it's a good thing"

"We're good then"

"Pedro Pascal" he offers his hand. "But you know that"

"Y/n" grabbing his hand makes something settle deep in your bones. "But judging by how Elvira and Oscar look at us, I think you do too"

"Jesus" Pedro murmurs, "what are they up to?"

"Nothing good, I suppose" you look in their direction, and they both play clueless, looking away. "Don't worry, they'll pay for that"

"Oh, look at you" he teasingly touches your shoulder. Even if for brief seconds, your skin feels on fire. "Little evil thing, who would've thought?"

You barely contain a smile. "There's a lot to me you don't know"

He leans in closer to you. The lingering smell of alcohol on his breath gets under your skin. Talking about it, you need another drink, fast.

"Well, I'm interested in learning"

"Are you?" you taunt.

"Trust me. You aren't getting rid of me"

Pedro was many things: funny, charming, loyal, educated and hot. Like, offensively handsome. But he was also honest and a man of his word.

Just as told, he kept his promise to stay, committed to the whole knowing me, knowing you bit.

Months had passed and he had stayed.

You went from talking about coffee orders with way too many shots and the weather to political stances and failed auditions. Dreams and secrets. Things you'd probably never say outloud to anyone else. It had begun with loud laughs and conversations turned to hushed whispers under the palm leaves of his house. He invited you to his home: gave you a chance to enter the most kept part of his life, away from the noise and cameras, and let you settle inside, like you always belonged. Let you carve a space on his heart and mind, where you where for most of the time if you weren't sitting on his couch, two big for one person but that now felt complete, dipping under the new weight of someone else. Someone to keep.

(He told you about missing Chile and his family. You told him you had always wanted to be a mother. Spoke in Spanish sometimes like the language belonged only to your world. He shared his brief swimming career. You told him about your first kiss; bad. Said your fears, like heartbreak and the sharp solitude of being forgotten. Fame. Failure. Pedro told you to be patient, no one better to tell you so, but allowed you to break down in tears as you mumbled a What if it never happens? as he whispered back a It will, sounding so sure, your heart quieted and you allowed yourself to believe him. You always would, ever since his first promise: You aren't getting rid of me)

Oscar and Elvira, of course, had noticed. How could they not? Their most trusted and professional employee and one of their closests friends had fallen together in the slow delicious burn of the amber flame of love.

It was obvious to everyone but you. Or maybe you knew, teetering around the edges of a delicate friendship that pressed with a hurting softness on your ribs, trying to remind you it shouldn't be like this if it only meant that. Perhaps you were scared of the sharp corners that threatened your frail dancing around the real, big question:

What are we?

Maybe summer was the answer: with it's sun, salt air and sweat on shirts of flimsy material. He had already your spring and your winter. New Year's was at his house. Happy New Year, he had whispered, so close to your lips, it felt like a kiss. A silent I want you here, for all year promise behind his hushed tone, just for you to hear, no matter the fireworks and the glittery noise of music and mellow conversations of excited purposes with new chapters to be written. It was just you and him, as when you sat on the Santa Mónica Hills, white Hollywood sign below your feet, or when the poppies on that park he took you to brushed your feet with the sweet blossom of spring.

He'd taken all your cold and daises with him. The leaves growing and falling. Growing again. The smell of grass that reminded you of when you were young, running around with your brother without a care in the world. Safe. You weren't religious, but believed in a God out there who heard your prayers for Pedro to be by your side all the time.

You'd give him all your seasons. All your life.

"Nice view, isn't it?" Pedro asks, leaning to your side.

His smell, one you wore as your own, the hugs (wasn't he touchy as hell?) and fleeting lasting touches to blame, fills your nostrils. Your body stiffens at the closeness, never allowing yourself to relax at how close you were: to hearing his breath, to mapping all his face... But he always managed to amuse you, like today: his moustache was a tad bit unkempt, new greys here and there. So was his hair, yet managed to look breathtaking as the scenery below you.

"Listen, if you were going to peak this much all the trip, you could've taken the window seat" you chastise with no malice behind your soft voice. "I offered you so"

"I wanted you to have it"

There it goes. The reason you had thought about him all the flight. But again, when weren't you?

"There's no winning with you, huh?"

"Oh, please" he makes a funny face, lips in a pout. "You love to be close to me"

"As if, old man" you joke. "Whatever suits your delusional ass"

This banter makes Oscar and Elvira, sitting in the row next to you, roll their eyes.

"If we knew you'd be this annoying, we wouldn't brought you along"

Life had been crazy right now. Lots of roles and filming, especifically Pedro finishing to film The Mandalorian, a series soon to hit Disney's streaming service and one that could make him a household name. You just knew it, despite how many times he looked insecure about it. Still, he was excited, probably more than he was with the Wonder Woman sequel. Yeah, the role Oscar convinced him to take was what got him excited for the rest of the year to come.

So, before Pedro went to film a Netflix movie he didn't want to tell you about (you wondered why he seemed embarrassed to talk about it, despite committing to the role, as always) and Oscar went to fully inmerse in Dune (God, you were excited for that one), Elvira had suggested to take a break, and as a Thank you for the almost three years working for her, they took you with them. Now, Pedro was a last minute addition, him being surprised about being invited at all, but judging by the continuous stares from the couple, you think this was their plan all along.

"We're about to descend, isn't it great?" Oscar shares, holding his wife's hand. "I needed this"

"We all do" she agrees, leaning on his shoulders. He hums happily, closing his eyes as the pilot's voice announces for seatbelts to be worn.

"Should we do that too?" you whisper to Pedro, wiggling your brows.

"Oh, we should" he agrees in an exaggerated sweet tone, grabbing your hand. You're used to it, but today, more than ever, your heart beats fast. You lean to him, closing your eyes to avoid his brown eyes that seemed harder not to fall into each passing day, so inviting.

"You're not funny" you hear Oscar's voice say. "What a weird sense of humor you have, my sweet girlfriend"

Pedro clicks his tongue. "You guys are gross"

"Right, you won't be saying that when you fall in love" Elvira adds.

"You'll have to die waiting" he says, still holding your hand. "You know I don't do that"

You tense, and he must've felt so.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I just hate the landing"

But your heart sinks like the plane over the tracks, crestfallen.

Despite the initial sadness, the blue of the sea took away the one in your heart.

Water had never seemed this alluring, so transparent you could see your feet pruning and the sand below your toes. You laughed under the sun, skin sprinkled with the salt of the sea and sweat.

"I wished the sea would swallow me away"

Outloud. Voice distant. The water isn't even at your waist, but Pedro looks at you. The couple are behind, sunbathing in their towels while music plays from their speaker.

"I would never allow that" sounding so serious. "I can't let you leave me"

You're taken back to your first night. You can't just say things like that.

"Right" you continue, "I'd do you a favor"

"The favor would be to stay. But I'd rather have it be a promise"

Promises. Funny. Why did Pedro say this things so freely, as true as a breath, when then he'd go and voice his fear for commitment and refusal for love in the next beat? Of course, you can't force nothing, nor have the right to change him. But it stings, that you no longer know what his initial promise meant. Friends. Yeah, could be that, but boy, didn't it hurt?

It isn't enough.

Your heart doesn't get the memo though, fluttering with his words.

"The promise to bother you forever?" you try to keep your tone steady.

"I can live with that if it means to keep you"

You suck in a breath.

"Look"

You kneel down, trying to avoid his face. Pedro should notice, he always does, but he's too busy staring somewhere else. Someone else. By God, this bikini you're wearing... It's making him insane. And hard. Under his swimtrucks, but you can't find out. He already feels like a creep, staring at your ass while you bend, giving him your back. Obscene images fill his mind, brain racing with filthy ideas of the position, reimagined.

He's a fucking joke.

"What?" he asks, mind elsewhere, somewhere between the tanning marks that have started to appear in your skin.

"A seashell" you hold your discovery to his face, giggling like a high schooler.

"It's cute" he murmurs, big fingers brushing past yours. He sees you gulp. "Like you"

You gulp again, this time with difficulty.

"Stop it, bobo" (dummy)

"You make it hard"

No, he made it hard by saying this things without a care in your poor heart.

You splash some water onto him, making Pedro laugh. Feisty girl, his deep voice rasps, making your cheeks flare up as your bottoms start to feel wet, and not by the shallow water. You remember then your menstrual cycle app. Fertile week, the notification said.

"If you ever say something like that again, I'll drown you"

"The compliment or the berating?" Pedro's quick to reply.

Jesus Christ.

"I'll tell Oscar and Elvira to send you home. Now"

"You wouldn't" he responds, laughing.

Your own laughter quiets down.

"That's right" with a soft, quiet acceptance. His laughter dies too at your tone, looking so deeply into your eyes, you feel dizzy. There's something you can't quite place in them. "I wouldn't"

A wind breezes by. The air has shifted. And the worst part is you both feel it.

Later that night, you joined the couple for dinner. Pedro was already there, changing his red swimming trunks for a Cuvabera shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and showed a weak peak of his soft silhoutte.

"Good you joined us"

"I wouldn't miss it" you reply to Elvira's sincere words, taking a seat next to Pedro.

What he wouldn't miss, is you. Holy fuck. Had you done this on purpose for him being a teasing ass to you earlier? No, how could you? You didn't know the effect you had on him.

The same effect that's making it so hard to ignore how your breasts are pushed up, and how it graciously adapts to your figure. He feels blood rush to his face and cock, and by Oscar's teasing snicker, he knows he's been obvious with the staring.

Nevertheless, conversation flows easily as the drinks and food. After rounds of wine and pasta from the hotel's restaurant, you feel a bit drunk. Nothing too alarming, just enough to do something stupid.

Like saying I love you.

"Are you okay?"

Despite being his usual loud self, Pedro's been spacing out here and there, and it always seems to happen when you talk.

"Yeah. 'M fine" you try reaching for him, but he stands up, abruptly so. "I just need some fresh air"

"I can come-"

"No!" his voice cracks. Fuck. Did he just yell at you? Judging by Elvira's glance, he did. God, and to your sweet offering and smile? He's going to hell. "Sorry, just better off by myself"

You flinch. Something like hurt makes its way to your face. He's hating himself more by the minute.

"Okay. Have fun"

But it's emotionless. You let him walk away, and it doesn't even take a minute of Pedro's back leaving the restaurant for the couple to gossip.

"Must be work stress"

"Sure it is, babe"

You don't like their tone, as if they knew an inside joke you aren't part of. Like you're the joke.

"I'll go after him"

You don't know what bothers you more: their silent stare or how they didn't stop you.

You find Pedro on an alleyway, propped against the wall. His features are lit by a dim glow.

"I thought you quit"

He blows some smoke. "And I thought I told you not to follow me"

You sigh, standing next to him.

"You smoke when you're nervous"

He doesn't look at you when he replies. "I don't"

You click your tongue. A beat.

"You do"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Expert On Me" he mocks, taking a drag.

"Fuck you" you retort, tired of his off-putting behavior during dinner and now. He gives you a bewildered look, making you angrier. "And don't give me that face, you're the one who's been acting weird all night. I'm just trying to be a good friend"

"If you were a good friend" he delivers the words in a way it feels like a slap to your face, "you would've leave me alone"

Pedro hardly lost his temper, yet now, his eyes burn with a barely contained rage.

"P..." you try one last time, never one to beg but finding yourself doing the impossible for him. Using that silly nickname as your last weapon.

"Go" is his last plead.

"Not until you tell me what is going on"

He loves how stubborn you can be.

He hates it.

"Go" he insists.

"No. You can't just- act like this! Shutting me out and..." you feel frustrating bubbling up your chest. "I don't know what's happening, just talk to me. Help me understand. Pedro, you can't treat me like I'm a nuissance when you have flirted with me hours-"

The words spill out before you can contain them. He lets out a cold laugh that chills your bones.

"Flirted with you?" Pedro takes another drag. "Jesus, y/n"

It's the way he said it that makes you want to vomit. Like the sole idea of it is offensive.

"Why do you say it like that?" you shove him.

His jaw tightens. Eyes red from the wine and anger. Cigarrette dangling from his lips.

"Like what?"

"Like the thought of it makes you sick, pendejo!" (Bastard)

"Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone!" he finally snaps, shouting. You stumble back slightly, almost falling due to your drunken senses. "See? This is why I told you to go. I say things I don't-"

"Don't you fucking dare blame this on me" you seethe. "It was your choice. To hurt me"

He hates how your voice cracks. Guilt creeps in.

"I don't want to" he runs a hand through his already messy curls. "I'm sorry"

"But you did. Why?"

Why do you hurt me when all I do is love you?

"Because I'm stupid" he leans against the wall, his regrets falling like the ash losing among the patters of the sand.

"You are" you stiffle a laugh. Without asking permission, you steal the half burnt cigarrette from his hands.

He let's you, without a word. He always has given you everything.

"We need to stop dragging this" you let out, flat. Decisive, as you stomp the cigarrette in the ground.

His heart beats so loud, it's the only sound on his ears.

"What's this?" voice barely above a whisper.

This means all those times he'd lean in too close, suffocating, because he'd always knock the air out of your lungs. When he'd hold your hand for too long, mind wandering to places it shouldn't. How your toothbrush stayed at his place, and he didn't tell you to take it back. How you changed the way the pillows on his bed where lined up, because it was comfier, and he never changed it to the way it was. You had changed his life in so many little and meaningful ways. He just couldn't imagine a life before you.

Without you.

"You know what this is" your voice is calm, accepting. "But you can call it what you want"

The moon shines above. The water crashes softly on the shore. The air feels humid and hot, but not smothering. Not anymore.

"I'm scared" is all he says. "Ever since one morning, I woke up feeling different. I just... I wanted you to be there. That your face was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes"

You always know what to say. Words seem to bloom out of you. Now they're stuck in your throat, choking you up like thorns.

"I think I've known for a long time, but you know... It's hard to accept something familiar yet foreign. Old but new"

You gulp. Your heart races.

"Pedro" your own voice feels foreign to you. "You don't have to-"

This was an apology. A search for answers. This is it. It's too much to take. You'd never guess you'd hear him utter any words that spoke about the nature of your relationship, made it clear, gave it a name, less to be under the pale moonlight.

"I'm not ready, but I want to. For you. Us"

His lips aren't as close as they have been other times, yet now, it feels it can end with a kiss.

"I can wait" you reply softly, cupping his face. Your fingers grace his two day stubble, focused on the small heart resembling patch where no hair grows. "For you, anything"

You'll kiss. Finally.

But then―

A ping. Small sound. You recognize it as the one you've designated for emails.

"What's that?"

You take out your phone, seeing the mail app icon badge on your notifications. With shaky fingers you unlock it, heart trembling. Pedro places his hand on your shoulder, as to ground you. Doesn't he know you well?

It's from your agent, the one Elvira had recommended you.

You suck in a breath. Casting call, reads the subject line.

"Oh. My. God" you cover your mouth with your hand. "P-Pedro! Fuck, look!"

He has always loved your victory face. It's the best view, even with the sea in front of him.

"I got the role" you whisper. Some tears of happiness show in your eyes.

"I knew you would"

"I-I got it" you jump in excitement, a scream lost in the night. "I got it, I got it, I got it!"

This time louder. Happier. More excited. He just watches mesmerized every little jump you do and how joy seems to ooze out of your body, the energy contagious. He finds himself smiling at you, something warm as pride settling on his chest.

"I would've personally hunt them if you got rejected"

You stop your celebration, looking at him between playful and breathless.

"Good thing they didn't"

You get close again. He doesn't know when, just that now he can see the acne scars on your face.

"Because they know what's good" he replies, tucking a loose strand behind your ear with a gentleness never known before.

You can't help but smile, your nose brushing with his.

"Don't we all?"

There's a kiss. Strong. Full of yearn, like the one on movies. On songs. This is what they want to write and sing about; try to put the feeling into words. He bits your lower lip and your tongue slides into his mouth, eager. His hands find their way to your hips, tight as a promise, pulling you even closer.

"God. You taste so good. So sweet" Pedro mumbles. Drunk. Wine or you, he doesn't care. It all makes him feel warm and fuzzy. "Need more"

With a sudden burst of movement, Pedro spins you around, pushing you up against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. His eyes are dark and breathing ragged, as if he's lost control.

Your heart jumps in your throat.

"W-what are you doing?"

His other hand slides down the curve of your side, over the flare of your hip, to grip your ass, pulling your hips flush against his own as he grounds the thick ridge of his erection against your core.

His voice drops.

"Don't be surprised, baby. As if you haven't thought about it"

He was right but also wrong. When you came looking for him, this was the last outcome in your mind.

Other nights, alone in your bedroom, however...

Your voice comes out in a breathless whisper. Pleading. "You know they could come looking for us any minute by now"

"Let them" he whispers, heavy breaths out of his mouth, mingling with your own. "Don't you want to properly celebrate, baby? Don't act like you don't want it. What if they walked in right now and saw their assistant grinding on their friend? Dripping all over my pants like the dirty slut you are?"

He whines as you grind your hips down on him.

"Then we better put on a show, don't you think?"

The khaki does a very poor job of hiding the wet patch already forming in the fabric over his tip, and if you had more time, you'd probably ask to suck him off; that's how equally horny and grateful you are now.

"Dirty girl"

So damn hot, your arousal pools into your now wet and sticky panties. Shout out to the dress: you don't think you could've handled the pulse of your aching cunt inside jeans.

"M'sorry for not being able to, you know-" he wiggles his eyebrows, smile soon strained by gritted teeth. "Wish I could just fuck you, here and now"

"Well, you can always come to my room tonight" and pull out the spare keycard the hotel gave you, taunting him with it like a hungry dog with a bone.

He gives you a hopeful look.

"You bet I'll be there" and bites it away from your grasp.

It's so sexy, but he's soon dropping it somewhere, falling with a soft click to the sand, because he's kissing you again, whole mouth devouring yours. Pedro makes little noises, all too strained and eager, groaning as his head falls back, your damp panties pressed intimately against the cloth of his shorts.

Pedro is fucking flying. Borderline ascending. All he knows is his cock throbbs hard as your clothed pussy grinds down on his lap while you rock your hips against his.

"Fuck-" he curses, "shouldn't wore such a small little frail dress while parading around me, baby. Es una puta tortura" (it's a fucking torture)

He grips your hips tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he fights the urge to grind up against you. His large hands slid up your sides, skimming over the side of your ribs, the swell of your breasts. Pedro hums in satisfaction. Along blooms something akin to pride in your chest.

"You like it?"

"More than I should" he admits, cheeks flaring up.

"So that's why you were distracted" you laugh at him, playfully swatting his chest. "Couldn't handle the y/n charm?"

"Shut up" he mumbles, embarrased.

"Make me"

He rests his head down in your collarbones, stubble making light tickles as it grazes against your flushed skin, down in the crook of your neck, hiding his face there. Pedro breathes you in, musk mixed with sweat and the fading notes of your floral perfume, then growls.

"I don't know how I'll stop myself from not having you, baby. You've fucked me up, I swear" you moan at the intensity of each word that spills from his mouth, "might not care if Oscar and Elvira walk in now-"

"Pedro!" you yelp as his hips rolling to meet yours. A pink embarrassement washes over your face, not only at the thought but also at how you're not entirely displeased. "D-don't say that"

"Oh, please. Will you tell me you don't like the idea? Should've thought about it first, then, naughty girl" he rasps, voice a low, desperate rumble. "Don't you feel what you do to me? How hard I am for you?"

With each word, a new thrust of his hips, khaki shorts against your panties rubbing deliciously. He could feel all of your heat even through the layers separating you.

Pedro groans softly, hips rolling urgently against yours as he pinned you harder to the wall with his body, his soft planes molding with your own.

What a vacation.

(Dry humping with Pedro Pascal on a hotel room during a getaway with your boss, who happened to be Elvira Lind, wife of Oscar Isaac? After being handed a role you fought hard for? Never ever even dreamed of it)

"You want to come on my cock like this?" Pedro purrs in your ear. "Want me to dry hump this little cunt until you're coming?"

The thick bulge of his erection rubs right over your clothed slit. He feels your body tensing, breath coming in short gasps. One of those dies in your throat as you feel his fingers dipping underneath to touch your slick folds.

"Jesus, baby. You're soaked" he speaks as his fingers part your lips, delving deeper to stroke over your swollen clit. "Is this all for me, sweetheart?"

He circles your clit with the rough pad of his finger, feeling your hips buck and writhe against his touch. He can feel your walls starting to flutter, your body tensing as your climax approaches.

"Let me reward you, then, for bein' such a good girl" voice a low rasp in your ear. "My future movie star"

Pedro rubs your clit harder, fingers pumping in and out as he ground his cock against you, chasing his own desperate pleasure. He too was so close, balls tight, cock throbbing and leak on his pants.

"Fuck, Y/n... come on, baby. Come for me"

He feels your body stiffen and then fall against him as your orgasm crashes over you. He groans long and low as he feels your slick walls pulsing and fluttering around his rough digits.

It's not long before he comes, hard, his cock jerking and pulsing as he spills himself in his pants, seeping through the cotton and staining the fabric.

Now it's his turn to slump against you, pinning you to the wall with his larger frame as he struggles to catch his breath. His fingers still their movements, pulling them out of your soaked heat as he tries to even his breathing.

He nuzzles into your hair, wearing a lazy smile you can't see.

"That's my good girl. Came so pretty, all for me" Pedro praises. "Made a complete mess of yourself, didn't you? Even when you knew they could come looking for us, but that didn't stop you at all, dirty baby"

You chuckle, readjusting yourself.

"Time to head back, dirty boy"

"Boo, you're boring" he jokes. "But whatever my girl wants"

Pedro leans to kiss your hand, softly. You giggle.

"I like my men obedient"

"And I'm into submission" he winks, "so we're even"

Oscar and Elvira don't ask about your thirty minute absence, yet by their unspoken married couple secret language, it's like they know or at least guess what happened. And your shared glances and smiles give it away, anyway.

"I'm heading to my room" you announce after dessert, brushing your fingers with Pedro's. A small reminder.

"It's barely ten" Oscar replies with a strange tone.

"Tonight was fun but I'm tired" you offer a rather lazy excuse. "Goodnight"

The copy of your key burns in his pocket. He abruptly stands up, not even five minutes after. He is as obvious as impatient.

"Wow, slow down buddy" Oscar grabs his arm, forcing him to sit down again. His cock twitches, as pissed as he is. "Easy. There's no rush, is it? Or do you have somewhere else to be?"

He gulps down.

"Oh, look at them. Didn't I tell you so?" Elvira laughs.

"I thought so too!" Oscar argues.

The woman just gives him a glare. "Yet who came up with it first?"

"Fine, wife wins this round" he slumps on his chair. Then looks at Pedro, pointing her. "You can't win with this one"

She ignores him, leaning forward, elbows propped in the table.

"So, did you two-"

Pedro's cheeks burn. "I'm not gonna share that-"

"-Talk" she finishes, "but now I'm curious to know what you aren't meant to share"

"Secundo eso" Oscar chimes in. (I second that)

"I need to go, really" he insists, thinking of you. On your bathroom, propping yourself in the mirror, starring and smiling too much at your reflection.

"I get it, time's precious" his friend coincides. "You aren't getting any younger dude"

This is his banter with Oscar, all playful no damage meant. But his stomach sinks.

In a way, he's right, and some of the doubts that held him back come crawling and settling on his head. They whisper until their words cut deep and find home in the darkest corners of his mind, feeding from the shadows.

A young couple passes by him. He hadn't even registered he'd stood up until the perfume of the woman, fruity, wafts into his circle. Until the man's voice and laughter is clear, full of life and less burden of the years passed by. They look so good together, and then she leans in to whisper to him, looking at Pedro. The man turns around, smiling but then looking at her, lastly at the exit doors. And they're gone. Maybe they recognized him, but right now, it feels like the universe has sent him a message.

A cruel unwarranted blow of reality.

(Aching joints meeting your brand new. The coloring of his hair that hadn't started in yours. The rough of his skin against the soft of your own. The wrinkles you had of laughter and expression opposed to those he simply had because of time. His soft planes compared to your rigid body. The size difference. The age gap. That was his reality and it fucking sucked)

His phone chimes in on cue.

Thank you for tonight. That was amazing

Pedro smiles, sadly so, as he types an answer.

It was

In past. Fitting for an ending. A goodbye.

The key burns still. But he doesn't take it out, not even when the shorts drop somewhere on the pile of clothes on his room's couch. He just falls in bed, burying his face into the pillow until the pushing force of guilt and feelings lull him to sleep.

On the other side of the hotel, moon shines it's light into an empty room, waiting bed cold with deception, many questions asked to the silence, not sure if you want the answers.

You should always trust your intuition.

It didn't fail you when you decided to leave your country behind, despite the failure, homesickness and loneliness gnawing at your heartstrings season to season.

Now? You were about to star in one of Netflix's original romcoms, and while to others it may seem small, to you, this leap in your career from background roles to lead meant everything.

It also didn't fail you when it came to Pedro. Whom you caught his first stare across the room, holding it dearly to your heart like the night you met. The age gap, different stages in life, work... all of it blurred to the sound of his low laugh and voice.

I think you're the prettiest sight I've seen in a while.

You loved being right. You hated not being proved wrong now.

For the rest of the vacation, is like Pedro did a whole switch: he made it his mission to act like nothing happened, like you hadn't happened.

Maybe, the thrill or vacation release was what he wanted, and the hoping was only on your side. The deep connection you'd nurtured for months was gone in seconds, taken away from you before you even learned what loving was.

He was commited, you have to give him that. Even on the plane, in such reduced space, he managed to remain quiet, not even batting an eye at Oscar and Elvira's questioning stares. They were probably as confused as you.

It all stayed back in the island: the sound of waves, sand in your feet and the hot sun of stolen stares and whispers lost in the humid night. The hard of the wall pressed against your back. The moonlight over the sea as he said Us. And how he tasted, like the wine and cheese he glazed his pasta with. In every cup and serving, he will be now, not like you wanted but like a ghost. Haunting.

It was over.

So were your days working for Elvira, who had become sort of a mother figure to you, especially after being away from yours. In this new stage of life, being an assistant just didn't fit into your schedule anymore, and as grateful as you were to have met them―what the family did for you―, it was time to go.

This meant you'd still keep in touch, though. Still, the chances of seeing Pedro again were low, and you have yet to decide if that was good or bad, because what made you feel giddy had turned to dread.

Despite it all, you forced yourself to remain positive. Shooting for your role was about to begin and you weren't going to let a man ruin it. You hadn't let this things hurt before, why should they now?

Pedro was different.

If for fleeting time had your paths converged, you're aware you'll remember those weeks for the rest of your life. You know it by the way your digits twitch with need, his number ingrained into your mind due to the hours spent thinking about it. You called your parents all the time, as usual yet felt guilty because now, Pedro was the first person on your mind.

He was the one you wanted to speak. Talk about your day on set. For him to go through your lines with you, like he had done before your audition. Take this, and he gave you one of his hoodies that day, the Carrie one. I'll be there, Pedro said. Now you won't feel alone. You wish you kept it, just to remember his smell, gone weeks ago of your house, last reminder he once lived in here like it was his real home.

You hated driving across his house, not daring to step a foot inside. How leaves turned from green to yellow, the orange spicy cinnamon air of November's autumn welcoming your still broken heart. How the premiere for his series was around the corner, days away, and you kept staring at the phone for too long. To congratulate him. Ask how he's been. If he's nervous. If you'll watch the first episode together.

"Hey, y/n" you raise your head from your phone, fingers hovering over his contact, yet again. You turn it off, embarrased. "Got any plans for later?"

It's your co-star, Jordan Fisher. You both share a passion for dancing, something you do a lot in this movie, Work It. It had been fun so far, and you've met the two leads, him and Sabrina Carpenter, spending much more time with the latter as you play her bestfriend. While not being the main role, you would treasure this experience forever.

"Um, I don't think so" you answer, smiling. "Why?"

"I was going to grab some drinks in this café nearby. Want to come?"

You look at your phone, then at him. You tell yourself this is okay, even if a part of you is screaming in betrayal.

No, you deserve to be happy. To go out and not think about Pedro at all. Enough moping around when no one is looking. Enough of forbidding yourself from moving on, holding onto heartache like it's a crown or a badge to wear with honor.

"Sure" you stand up, throwing your phone inside your bag. For the first time, you truly smile and don't think about Pedro and the summer sorrow. "A coffee right now sounds perfect"

Pedro has been miserable.

Ever since you came back from your trip, the distance got even bigger. Not louder, quieter: long gone the loud laughter and endless conversations. You didn't question him, just gave him those eyes full of grief, pain and confusion he hated. He avoided your stare, knowing he would cave in the moment he gazed back. So you respected his silence and distance, helped the breach grow bigger. Pedro doesn't know what hurts the most: that you stopped trying because you respected his boundaries that much, without a question, or that you had given up on him that easily.

He's currently sat on his living room, some movie playing in the background as he scrolls through his phone. He never thought he'd be one of those people, but once the bad habit started, he couldn't quit it. You'd chastise him: Look at you, trying to fit in with the youngsters and our bad etiquette. Your voice was light, teasing, but now he's reimagining it with a cruel light to it, laced with mockery. Not joking with him. At him.

His phone chimes in. It's a text from Oscar.

Pedro. Have you seen this?

Three dots. Erased. Then again. Finally, he gives up and just sends a link.

Jordan Fisher And his Co-Star, Y/n L/n, More Than Friends?

He turns off the phone, unable to see more. His breathing turns frantic, lungs burning with each breath he takes.

Pedro turns it on again, like he wants to punish himself in a way. His fingers presses over the blue text, the article showing up in no time on his screen. If the title hurt him enough, the picture below kills him.

That smile he misses, again seen through a screen, as the one's he's captured and keeps on his phone, seeing them when it's late at night and the pain of your absence becomes unbearable. But he's not the reason why you smile. It's him: young and handsome, coffee in hand with the same logo as yours.

Did he know you preferred brown sugar just because you liked the color? It's my favorite color, while looking at his eyes. Does Jordan know you always buy extra whipped cream when you order it cold? How does he know what to say to make you laugh the way only he knew: eyes crinkled, corners wrinkled and that loud sound that lit up a room? It was his, in a way, a trophy as important as any award the industry could give him. But now he's staring at it through an article, a young man by your side.

You look good. Beautiful. A dark part of him wishes you weren't doing well, that it's just a facade, like him. That deep down, you can't sleep at night thinking of him, and when you close your eyes, he's the last thing you think of and the one you dream of.

He wants you to mourn this fight that went down with cold acceptance. For you to feel the same tug at your heartstrings when you look around you, because for him, you're everywhere: in every corner of his house and life, haunted by the brushstrokes your colors painted on his life. But now the paint has dried, cracked, and he's selfishly wishing you haven't moved on. That you think of him as much as he thinks of the sand, your moans and your sweet taste. Of being so close to paradise and letting you go.

That you're hurting just means it mattered to you, yet now, with the smile mocking him on his face, he thinks you never cared.

Worst part is he deserves it. He was the one who pushed you away.

His fingers hover over his phone. No, it's not the right time. It never feels like it is, regret washing away with cowardice his chances. He's dialing other number. It takes a while for the line to pick up.

"I was waiting for your call"

Pedro rolls his eyes. "Very funny"

Oscar scoffs. "I wasn't trying to be"

"Why'd send me that?" he's asking, knot on his stomach.

"Why do you think?" voice stern, acompanied by a matter-of-fact tone. "Usa la cabeza" (use your head)

"To torture me?"

He only laughs. "So you can do something about it"

And the only thing he did was grab the closest bottle and drink until the tears of his amber eyes melted within the mirroring liquid, world reduced to a quiet blur of ringing ears and broken heart on his lonely bed, missing your smell and how it dipped under your shared weight.

Grief turned to anger fast. A fury that went in burning circles of regret and helplessness.

How could you?

Why hadn't you fight more for...

How could he even call you both?

(Call it what you want, you said)

No. He had no right being mad.

But, was he that easy to forget?

Anger makes his face hot with embarrassement and rage. His fists turn white, curling and uncurling. His hair is a mess and he knows every breath he takes now reeks of whiskey. What he doesn't know is how he ends up in front of your house after months of not being able to even call you on the phone, same white knucles now relaxed into a bright pink that matches with the drunken blush of his face, falling into the peaceful familiarity of coming home, all pain gone for a fleeting moment as soon as he senses the faint smell of your plants in the porch. Daises are my favorite, the entrance to your house filled with them. He gave you one for your birthday last year.

"Pedro?"

Had he already knocked your door? He stares at his trecherous hand. Pedro doesn't even know what to say, his name called by you sinking into his chest.

Despite his slurred senses, he can see you: your soft hair, still damp from the shower. The roses and milk aroma on your skin he so dearly missed. The way the loose t-shirt hangs from your body, paired with your Cherry Blossom socks with Van Gogh's painting on their pattern. Your bare legs make him dizzy, as if the alcohol had not done enough damage to his balance already.

"Pedro" you repeat, "what are you doing here?"

Good question. He doesn't even know the answer.

(Or maybe he does, but damn, isn't he a fucking coward?)

"Are you with him?"

"What?"

"That guy" he tries explaining, his own voice sounding distant to himself. "Are you dating?"

You laugh, coldly. He takes a step back, like you've landed a blow across his face.

"What makes you think you have the right to show up at my door after months of ignoring me to ask that?" you lean on the doorframe, dismissive, but he feels you're blocking the entrance. Blocking him out of your life. "It's none of your bussiness"

"Y-you can't be with him"

Weak. Like a fucking beggar.

"I beg your pardon? Jesus, the nerve that you have-" you throw your hands in the air, a thing you do when you lose your temper, which is frequent to happen. As calculating and driven you were, you weren't a patient woman. "Did you think it was a good idea to come by and tell me what to do? On top of all that, drunk? Fuck, you're a mess"

His shoulders slump down with the weight of shame, running a hand through his messy hair, distressed. He looks up again and examines your features.

They're the same, and he doesn't know why he's relieved, as if you were to change in months. But to be loved is to be changed, and God knows he was scared of finding another version of you behind the door, one without free hair and floral scent: one that didn't belong to him anymore.

"You didn't even call for my birthday" he looks up to you, but you look at the floor, voice breaking. "I knew that's when it was over. For real"

"Y/n-"

God, you missed the way his voice would call you. But the hurt is too much to bear, months of piled up sadness forming a storm: the one you've always been, never a calm sea like the one in front of you when you kissed, but always roaring, each word aiming to hit like thunder.

You had spent so many hours, shrinking in fear under the force of pain, body trying to cry―to release, anything―and live through just another empty night.

He, the reason of your ache, now standing before you, looking as miserable as you feel.

"You need to go"

Final. No room for more to be said. He just hates how determined you are sometimes.

You're closing your door. Shutting him out. He can see the pain on your face, let's himself believe there's a chance as he tries to erase feeling so dumb for succumbing to harmless teasing words of his friend―mixing with previous fears, and the image of you, holding hands with another. Kissing another who gets to taste the flavor of those strawberries you ate so frequently and that of your gloss. To be whole with someone who isn't him.

But it's his fault.

His, his, only his.

He doesn't want to lose you. He can't. Even if love isn't natural for the likes of you and him, he knows it's yours and his.

It can't be over. Can't. He doesn't know nanything like you. Has got nowhere else to go.

"I love you" he tries, desperate.

Your eyes go wide, with surprise, then sadness and finally rage, one that's quiet, simmering and scratching the surface to let wrath go loose.

"You can't love me"

He might as well have already lost you.

"What you did to me" The silence. The betrayal. Closing off. Throwing away in the blink of an eye. Asking why's to a rusted dead line. "Not even a friend would do" your hand grabs the doorknob with ending resolution, but it shakes. With vitriol, tears or uncertainity, he doesn't know. "So don't talk about love like you mean it. You can't just say things like that"

The soft waft of alcohol in your breath. Petricor mixing with the smell of freshly cut grass. Your shy smile and light blush despite the flame of ambition in your eyes. Your words take him back. To the night you met. He would go back and tell himself not to be stupid, not to fuck the best thing on his life.

"Please" like it pains you to say it, "stand up. Don't make this harder"

He's on his knees, begging. For what? It's over. He not even prayed but is willing to sacrilege vows he hadn't taken to keep your love.

"I'm sorry" he buries his face in your thighs. Feels the humid of his tears running and the warmth of your skin combing through his hair. "I'm an idiot"

You chuckle weakly. "I know"

"One" Pedro holds tighter, wretched. "Just one chance"

"P..."

You feel his grip loosen.

"Don't" choked up, "don't say it like a goodbye"

You kneel down to his level, tilting his head with gentle fingers by his chin as he refuses to meet you in the eye.

"At least now you know how it feels" and brush a stray tear away.

"I love you" he repeats. "I'm sorry I didn't know how to deal with it"

You let him continue, hand still on his face, stubble rough, prickling your skin.

"When I found out... This is gonna sound very corny, but that one phrase about not knowing what you've got until you lose it? It's fucking real, baby" he laughs, humorlessly. "The moment I saw those images, all I could think about was our kiss and how I'd never get to kiss you again. How you were there for me, had me like no one before. How we talked for hours, and you listened, bringing things we said sometimes, like trinkets on a box or charms of a necklace. Tiny things and moments that belonged to us. And to think you'd share that connection, that- silence, that only comes when two people understand eachother... It fucking ruined me. I forgot about my fears, our age gap-" he cuts himself off, self-conscious. "All I could think about was saying those three words I've felt since we first spoke on Oscar's garden, but was to afraid to say. Even know. You have no idea how crazy my heart is beating right now" he breaths in, deeply. "I'm sorry for loving you and having no idea how to properly do so"

It takes a while for you to realize he's now cleaning your tears. That you've stayed silent for too long.

"Why?"

"Because you deserve someone better. Someone who isn't too old. One you waste your youth with. Like him" he can't even bring himself to say his name. "You looked so good together. Fitting. No one would say anything, no one would disgrace your name. But I'm selfish, I know. Didn't wanna see you with him. At all. Almost broke my phone screen"

Each word punctuated with a green colored hurt. And that, even in all this blues, makes you feel flustered.

"Pedro" you softly call him. "Look at me"

"I can't-" he whispers, browns elusive. "I'll never forgive myself for hurting you. I wanted you to be as miserable as me, but now that I see it to be true, I hate myself"

"Were you jealous?"

He can't deny it. "Fucking seething"

You laugh. God, he longed for it. Prays for it all to be back to how it used to.

"Happy birthday"

You laugh. "What?"

"Did he tell you that?"

"Jordan?" Pedro nods. "We just met. Shooting isn't over yet"

"Well, happy birthday"

"It was two months ago" you counter.

"Only I get to wish you so" face closer to yours now, whispered words ghosting over your nose.

"Silly" you smile, sheepishly. "Are you the birthday police? You can't decide who gets to congratulate someone on their special day, you little jealous freak"

"But I get to decide this"

He captures your lips in a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of his passion and desperation into it. The unsaid yearning and ache on his tongue. It delves deep, claiming your mouth as it tangles with yours in a dance of hunger and need.

Like a couple of young highschoolers on their mother's porch, breeze flowing by their little town. It smells as home. It's simple. It's real. It's extraordinary. It's just what you wanted.

Love.

"I missed you"

You feel a surge of love and lust at his breathless confession.

"I missed you too"

With rushed steps he takes you to your bed. Your room is still the same. Your picture stands on your nighstand.

"I'm surprised you didn't tear it"

His hands slide down to grip your thighs, pushing them apart.

"I'm surprised you think I would"

Clothes go off with the desperation of two people who have circled around eachother for too long. Your bed feels full, unlike the one of the hotel, where you waited until your tears dried in the pillow.

"Well, you're full of surprises" he adds, voice strained.

Pedro settles himself between your thight, the hard, thick length of him nestling against your slick, heated flesh, groaning into your lips at the feel of you. Warm, soft... Ready for him.

His lips mark a trail down your throat, teeth grazing your collarbone. He licks and nips his way down to your breasts, taking one rosy peak into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud.

"Pero sí fui un pendejo" growled against the skin in the middle of your breasts. "Forbid myself of tasting you when you taste so fucking good. Could devour you for hours, baby, and never get enough" (i was such an asshole)

"Please, P. Just quit the fucking talking and make me yours"

A surge of emotion and desire wash over him. He holds your stare, seeing the longing and desperation on your face. This unbridled want, he felt it too.

"Shit, baby" he breathes, voice rough and thick with emotion. "You have no idea how badly I've wanted to do this. To feel you with me, next to me and under me"

You allow yourself to believe in him. In his words and touches, cracking a fire in their wake.

"Then do"

To show just how much he means it, he forces your mouths into a fierce kiss. Pedro pours every ounce of his love, his need, his desperation into it. His tongue delves deep, claiming you. Consuming you. Making you his.

All you've wanted.

"For the record, Jordan and I are just friends"

He reaches down to grip himself, lining the thick, hard length of his cock up with your entrance.

Pedro grunts, feeling the promise of warm tight walls taking his dick.

"I don't care"

He rubs the swollen head through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.

"You're not even looking at me" you tease. "He's getting married next year, by the way"

He groans into your mouth at the feel of you, so hot and ready for him.

"I don't care" he repeats.

"Said I could come to the wedding if I wanted to"

Right after the last word you speak, with one powerful thrust of his hips, he buries himself inside you. A broken cry comes out of your mouth, desire coursing through your veins like the most powerful and addictive drug there is ever to exist, only rivaled by him: he, who after years of being his fan, months of friendship, a summer of love and some other months of radio silence filled with unspoken terrifying truths, is finally yours.

"With how much you bring it up, I'd think you're in love with him"

"And by how much you refuse to listen to my words, even as you're buried inside me, I'd think you're jealous"

He hilted himself fully, cock throbbing as it stretches to fill you completely.

"Quit sayin' that, when you know it's the other way around" a broken wail leaves your lips at his girth inside of you, your folds trying to adjust to his size. "Got all giddy with him, at his dumb stories and jokes. But does he know how you like you coffee? No, but I bet you fluttered your eyelashes and laughed like a fucking attention starved brat when he handed you your order. Bet he's a whole gentleman who payed for your order. Probably offered you a ride home, but can't play any of your favorite songs. The ones I know" he throws his head back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat at the exquisite feel of your tight, wet heat enveloping him. "Yet the funniest part is he doesn't know you did all of this for me"

"P-Pedro" you plead, reduced to a moaning mess.

"Tell me you didn't, but we both know how the answer goes" he grabs you by your chin. "Tell me that you were desperate to get a reaction out of me. That you wanted all of my attention. That it's me who you really wanted and not that fucker. Say you did all that little flirty whoring show to make me angry, because guess what? It worked, you desperate slut"

You should be humiliated, but instead, your treacherous brain makes your mouth whine.

"Dirty baby" he whistles, amused. "You're into that? Like me to call out your bullshit, huh? You're a real bad girl"

"I'd call myself resourceful" your voice is strained, "a girl can only do so much for to get her supposed bestfriend who dry humped her last summer to talk to her again"

He laughs, a sound that makes you nostalgic.

"And I take full responsability for that"

"Why don't you fix it the best way you know?"

"Can I get a clue?"

"Shut your mouth and start moving"

He's so compliant is hard to watch and not moan just by his sheer obedience. Surrendering himself to you and your alluring voice clouded with lust. Pedro starts to move, his hips rolling and rocking against yours in a slow, sensual rhythm. He takes his time, savoring every inch of your silky walls as he slid in and out of your depths.

"Fuck, y/n" he pants, voice ragged. "You feel so fucking good, baby. So perfect, so right. Like you were made just for me"

He leans down to nuzzle into your neck, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I love you, y/n" he murmurs the three words again, tone low and intimate.

You tangle your fingers on his hair, pulling him closer for a kiss.

"I love you"

Feels good to put it out there, but maybe he's more excited than you are, given by the goofy grin that takes over his features, eyes shining like the stars on the starry night outside.

His heart soars at your words, and Pedro can't help but kiss you with all the passion and commitment burning inside him, pouring every ounce of his devotion into the press of his lips against yours.

"Three words and you've made me the happiest man on earth, baby"

He thrusts into you harder, driven by the overwhelming feelings on his chest. He wants to mark you, claim you.

"That's it, you naughty little girl. Getting yourself all worked up after your little devilish plan" he grunts. "Gonna make you mine now and fuck you until you can't walk. Until you become a mess. So dumb you can't speak anything but my name"

His hips snap against yours with each powerful surge of his cock, the wet, obscene sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the bedroom.

"Mierda, you'd should be so fucking embarrassed, shouldn't you? Ashamed of opening your legs for a man who could be your father"

He can feel his release building, the hot, tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in his stomach. You pull him closer, arms around his neck, pulling him off his thoughts.

"I'm not ashamed" you purr in his ear. "In fact, I think it's fucking hot"

"Oh, yeah? Dirty girl likes old men?" he grits his teeth, fighting it off, determined to hold back until you cum first. "Loves to be stuffed up nicely by men old enough to be your daddy? Quit that moaning or I might just give you what you ask"

You whine, receptive to his words.

"That's it, baby. Cum for me. Cum all over my fingers like a dirty little girl. I want to see your pretty face and hear your pretty noises. Need to prove if they're better than I imagine as you clench yourself on my cock"

Pedro lets out a roar of triumph as he feels your pussy spasm around his cock, your scream of ecstasy pushing him over the edge. With a final thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside your warm cunt, cock pulsing and throbbing as he erupted.

"Take it, baby. Take every last drop of my cum like the hungry whore you are. Let me fill this hungry little pussy like you deserve"

He grunts and shudders as spurt after spurt of his hot, thick seed paint your walls.

"Now I get to show him and any other fucker who you really belong to"

He collapses against you after emptying himself, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he continues to twitch and pulse inside you. Pedro peppers your face with kisses, restless hands roaming over your curves, touching and caressing every inch of you with desire.

"Baby, listen"

His voice is soft with scary twinges laced within as he rolls to the side, pulling you with him so that you were draped across his chest. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, the silent vow to never letting you go on his strong grip.

"I know I keep making the same mistakes every time" he sighs, his hand stroking your hair. "Yet, it's worth it. The fame, my name, the press... It all reduces to nothing. Because when I look at you, I know at least I did one thing right"

He tilts your chin up, his eyes burning into yours with fierce intensity.

"Then run away with me" you say softly. "Where no one knows who we are"

"We can't" he laughs. "But I'd love to. For you to be mine, forever and always"

"To be with you, I would do anything" you lay on his chest, humming with approval. "I mean it"

"Well" he grabs your hand, "we can't exactly run away, but I have a close idea to it"

"I'm all ears"

He looks deep into your eyes, afraid of his own words.

"We can talk about it more later on but, how about keeping this matter... private?" your body gets goosebumps. "Just you and me. Some friends and our family. Teams too. But it'll be our little secret"

It's the start of something. That something that started on Oscar's birthday when he first called out your name. It was all about falling since then, never quite landing, not knowing what to say. Hiding behind silence the loud thoughts you wanted to shout, words you both couldn't get out, ones to be proud of.

Maybe one day you'd get to do so.

"Something to keep" you add as your way to agree. A promise, to follow him everywhere. To bring him home when he needed. To build something out of what you both feared: with late dinners, kitchen dancing, shared clothes, line reading, fleeting touches, long showers and deep kisses.

You lay again your head on his chest, content and at ease, feeling it go up and down, his heartbeat tranquil and your body soft against his rising and falling tummy. It feels right, like where you should be. Forever and always.

"Like you"

"No, Pedro" you whisper, lazily kissing him as sleep starts to lull you in to the best night you've had in months. "Like us"

It's only getting started.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @trashcora

[storiesforallfandoms]

heatwave ~ matt murdock;marvel

word count: 3306

request?: no

description: in which a terrible heatwave has hit hell's kitchen, and it's leading to some lewd thoughts about her roommate

pairing: matt murdock x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (shower sex, oral - f receiving, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, matt asks for permission, a smidgeon of begging, naked cuddling afterwards but like...actually cuddling, not a euphemism)

masterlist (one, two, three)

It was an unbearably hot day in Hell's Kitchen. Hot enough that it was making the "Hell" part seem a little too real. It was the type of hot that leaving the window open filled the apartment with heat, but closing it made the place feel like a heat box. There was just no escaping it.

I was grateful to have the day off because it was definitely too hot to work, but at the same time I knew my job had working AC. Matt and I had been saving up for a working AC unit, but it was difficult when other expenses kept getting in our way. Matt kept insisting that when he finally got promoted to a lawyer position, we wouldn't have to worry so much about the apartment expenses, but he and Foggy had been in the same position at Landon and Zack - and unhappily so 0 for so long that I was starting to double they'd get a promotion at that law firm specifically.

Either way, for now all Matt and I had was a shitty fan that blew just enough cold air to make living in this heat bearable. I was wearing my shortest shorts and thinnest tank top, laid out on our couch with the fan directly on me. I was still extremely hot to a point where I just wanted to crawl out of my skin as it felt like the only option.

I couldn't even bring myself to turn my head as i heard the front door open and shut. I knew who it was anyways, even without the familiar sound of Matt's cane folding up. When he did walk into my eyeline, I scoffed. "How are you walking around dressed like that?"

Matt was in a pair of long dress pants, a light blue button up - with no sweat stains, might I add - and his tie pulled tight to his neck. Looking at him alone was making me overcome with heat.

Matt chuckled. "I have no choice in the matter. Can't exactly walk into a law firm in daisy dukes and a wife beater."

I snickered at the idea of Matt Murdock in daisy dukes.

I met Matt over a year ago after he had responded to my "roommate wanted" ad. My last roommate had moved out suddenly with very little notice, leaving me to try and pay rent for the apartment on my minimum wage salary. So to say I was desperate for a roommate is an understatement. Still, I was a little hesitant to answer Matt's response to my post. He was a strange man, and it was just me in the apartment. A girl can't be too careful in this day and age. But, again, I was desperate, so I agreed to meet up with him to discuss moving in.

Imagine my shock, and slight relief, when a well dressed, blind man introduced himself as an intern at Landon and Zack, and was also needing a roommate as his internship didn't pay enough to cover rent at his own place, plus his student debt.

The next week, he was moving into my apartment.

I liked Matt. He was easy to get along with, and he pulled his weight around the apartment. And in general, he was a nice guy. I liked hanging out with him, and with Foggy whenever he was over, too. I did feel like I hit the jackpot for roommates with him.

Matt made his way to his room. In the process, I noticed him pulling at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. I tried not to be so obvious in my staring, until I remembered he couldn't actually see me staring at him.

Okay, yeah, I may have had fantasies about Matt. Can you blame me? He's a handsome man, and I am but a girl. Not like anything would happen between us. It couldn't happen. That'd make things incredibly awkward around the apartment.

When Matt came back out of his room, he was changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I watched him navigate around the room, as if searching for something, before turning to me.

"You're hogging the fan."

I scoffed. "There was no one to hog it from until a few minutes ago."

"Well, there is now, and you're hogging it."

I rolled my eyes. "Just come sit on the couch, idiot. I'll position the fan so it's on both of us."

Matt moved slowly towards the couch. When we first started living together, I would often try to help Matt with things around the apartment, such as moving from point A to point B. I thought it was helpful, until one day Matt assured me that he could do things on his own.

"I have been blind for most my life," he had said. "I've learned how to live with it."

So, after that, I stopped helping unless Matt asked. Like now, just watching him navigate to the couch. When he got close enough, I sighed and extended a hand to him. "Grab my hand, ding dong."

He chuckled. "Ding dong? Are you 12?"

"Almost."

Matt took my hand and I slowly led him to the couch, then patted the cushion so Matt could hear where to sit. I didn't expect him to plop himself down so close to me, but he decided to sit so close that our arms were brushing against one another. I tried to ignore it by tilting the fan so it was blowing on both of us.

"We should get an inflatable pool," I suggested.

Matt chuckled. "And put it where? We live in an apartment building. We don't exactly have a backyard."

"Put it in the living room."

"I'm sure our landlord would appreciate that."

"It's not like he'd know. In all the years I've lived here, I think he's been by twice."

Matt tilted his head towards me. "I don't think it's a good idea."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "You're so no fun, Matt."

We fell into a silence that made me remember that Matt was sat so close to me. I tried to sneak a glance at him, and then once again remembered he couldn't see me anyways, so I allowed myself to look. I allowed myself to glance at the way his shorts were riding up, showing off his thigs. I allowed myself to glance at his arms, weirdly strong for a lawyer, and now with the added touch of sweat making him glisten.

God, I'm no better than a man.

I was suddenly a lot hotter, with a particular heat pulsing between my legs.

"You alright?"

I jumped at the sudden sound of Matt's voice. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"You're...quiet."

I chuckled. "Didn't know quiet was a bad thing."

"It's not, but you're...I don't know. There's something different about this silence."

"It's just hot."

I was on my feet before I knew what I was doing. I just needed some distance before I did something incredibly stupid. I needed this heat to fuck off so Matt and I could put more clothes on and I wouldn't have to see so much of his skin that it turned me into a prepubescent boy.

I muttered something about showering before rushing to the bathroom. Once the door was closed behind me, I let out a long sigh. I wasn't actually sure about showering at first, but now that I was away from the fan I was starting to feel too hot and sweaty again. A cold shower wouldn't go astray, and I had definitely been sweating enough all day to warrant showering.

I turned on the shower, turning the cold tap almost all the way while turning the hot tap just enough to make it so the water wasn't bitterly cold. I stripped myself of my clothes and stepped under the cold water. I don't know how I hadn't thought of a cold shower before, but it was definitely the best idea. The downside was that eventually I'd have to get back out into the hot, humid air of the apartment, but for the time being I was content with standing under the cold water until my fingers and toes were prunes.

I wasn't paying much attention to anything besides how nice the cold water felt, otherwise I might've heard the bathroom door opening. I might've heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor, joining my own discarded pile. But I definitely did not miss the sound of the shower curtain being pulled back, revealing a completely naked Matt Murdock.

I shrieked in shock, my heart racing a million miles a second from the scare.

"Matt, what the fuck?!" I snapped.

"You forgot a towel," he said, gesturing to the two towels he had laid on the counter.

"So you had to get completely naked to bring me some towels?"

"Well, to bring you a towel. The other is for me."

When he stepped into the shower, I tried to back away, but damn this small apartment with its small shower. There wasn't much further I could move from him without stepping completely under the shower head and practically drown myself. It took everything in my power to keep my eyes on his face and not to let them venture lower.

"What are you doing?" I asked him. I tried to sound forceful, confident, but instead my voice came out soft, nearly a whisper.

He didn't respond. Instead, he was reaching for me. I knew I should've pulled away, or pushed him away, or insisted that he leave because this was definitely pushing a boundary that we should not cross as roommates. That's what I should've done. Instead, I let Matt's hands find my waist. I let him pull me to him, pressing our bodies together under the cold water. I no longer had to fight not to look down between his legs, because now it was pressed against me.

"What are you doing?" I asked again.

"Your heart was racing," he said, like that answered everything.

"Yeah, you scared me. That tends to be the usual reaction."

"No, I mean earlier. One the couch. When I was next to you, it started beating harder and faster."

"How do you know that?"

"I could hear it."

If it were any other circumstances, I probably would've laughed at that. I probably would've made some quip about him having super hearing since he was blind. But my mind wasn't functioning properly. Not with Matt pressed up against me like that, holding me like that. His hands wandering over my body the way they were.

"We-we can't," I finally managed.

"Why not?"

"We live together, Matt. It'll make everything awkward."

"Or maybe we'll finally get rid of this tension between us and can find out how we wanna proceed afterwards."

Tension between us? Does that mean he's had the same thoughts I've had? Does he feel the same way I've been feeling about him?

My mind was rushing when Matt kissed me, so much so that I almost didn't register it at first. It was a shock, and then it felt right. I placed my arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss. One of his hands found their way to my hair, tangling in the wet locks to hold me in place, while the other drifted down my body until it came to rest on my ass. I could feel him pressed against my stomach, his hard cock twitching. In the time Matt and I had lived together, I had met all of his "girlfriends", who liked to brag about being with Matt because they were all threatened by his female roommate. I was glad to report that the bragging about what he was packing had not just been to make me jealous.

Matt tugged at my hair, which resulted in a gasp slipping from my lips. He smirked, and I just knew that bastard was making mental notes of everything that made me have involuntary reactions. He pulled my head back to expose my neck to him. He kissed my jawline and down my neck, nipping at areas that would certainly leave very visible marks later. He continued moving down my body, trailing kisses from my neck down over my chest, and giving ample attention to my breasts. I was now leaning against the shower wall, my head lulled back at Matt took each of my breasts into his mouth one at a time, swirling his tongue around my already hard nipples. I gasped and moaned with each flick of his tongue. I held the back of his head with one hand, grasping at the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

Soon, Matt was on his knees on the tile shower floor. We had switched places, so the cold water was now cascading down on him. I was about to offer to move the shower head so he wasn't directly in the line of fire, but Matt cut me off by lifting my leg over his shoulder and immediately diving his tongue into my pussy. I cried out, both in shock and in pleasure.

I had been with a few guys in my lifetime, some of which didn't mind giving oral. But none of them could ever hold a candle to what Matthew Murdock could do with his tongue.

Within seconds of his head being between my legs, I had completely lost any sort of coherence. The only thing my mind could focus on was how good Matt's tongue felt running over my swollen clit; darting in and out of my pussy, as he was quite literally fucking me with his tongue; the feeling of his lips wrapping around my clit and gently sucking on it. It was like he knew exactly what I would like before I even knew. It wasn't long before Matt was holding onto my thighs as they began to quiver, holding me up as my orgasm washed over me. He kept lapping at my cunt, drinking in every drop of me that he could like a man starved.

My legs felt weak. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay stood. Luckily for me, I didn't have to. As Matt got to his feet, he kept hold of my leg. He pressed his body against mine, holding me in place. When he kissed me, I could still taste me on his lips.

"Can I fuck you?" he asked. His tone of voice was nothing I had ever heard from him before. It was full of lust and desire. His hard cock was resting against me, begging to get its own release, but he waited. He waited until I gave him permission.

It was the barest of minimums, but there was something about Matt wanting to hear me say yes that made the dull ache of post-orgasm turn into the tingly feeling of desire once again.

"Yes," I breathed. "Please Matt, fuck me."

He wasted no time in lining himself up with my entrance. He pushed in slowly, letting me feel every inch of him as he filled me up. The stretch stung, but it felt so good. Once he was buried to the hilt inside of me, he took a moment to allow me to adjust to him. I watched as his face contorted in pleasure and I couldn't help but feel a little pride that I was making him feel this good, even if I wasn't the one doing the work.

"Fuck," he sighed. "Can I start fucking you?"

I nodded. Luckily he still had his forehead against mine, so he felt the approval instead of me having to say it outloud.

He started slow, pulling almost all the way out then pushing all the way back in. It was almost an agonizing pace. It felt so good, but every time he slipped everything except the tip out I felt hollow. He reached a spot inside of me that had only been reached a few times before, but with his pace he was only grazing it instead of constantly nudging it the way I wanted him to.

I was getting close to begging him to speed up. A desperate whine even slipped from my mouth when he pulled all the way out of me again. But this time, when he thrusted back inwards, it was fast and rough. The force pushed my ass back against the shower tile.

"Fuck," he breathed again. "I'm trying to make this last, but I really just want to fuck you until your legs are too numb to work anymore."

Another whimper. "Please."

"What was that?"

"Please fuck me," I said. "Fuck me however you want, Matt. I need it. I need it so bad."

He captured my lips in another kiss as he started thrusting into me at a ruthless pace. The sound of our wet skin colliding fill the room over the sound of the running water. It was lewd and naughty, and so good. It was something we'd never come back from as roommates, but I couldn't care less now. Nothing beyond this moment mattered.

Matt reached his other hand between us. He began to rub circles on my clit with his thumb. His thrusts changed slightly, just enough to hit that spot inside me in a way that drove me crazy. I had my arms around his neck, trying to keep myself up, but as I felt another orgasm building I knew I wouldn't be able to stay upright on my own. When the wave crashed over me, I threw my head back against the wall and cried out his name. It was more intense than the first one, so intense that my vision went completely white.

Matt's cock twitched inside of me, the only warning I had before he hit his own high. He buried himself inside me one last time, shooting himself so deep inside of me that I was sure I'd be full of him for weeks. He groaned in pleasure, resting his forehead against mine again.

The shower water had finally gone stark cold. Not that it mattered. We had definitely worked up a new sweat even with the cooling sensation beating against our bodies.

I sighed when Matt finally had to pull himself free of me. He chuckled and leaned in for one final kiss.

"Let's clean you up before we get out."

He slowly lowered me to the edge of the tub. I passed him my body wash and he lathered up his hands to clean between my thighs. He rinsed himself as well before turning off the water. The chill from the water had gotten under my skin enough that I didn't immediately become overwhelmed with heat once the shower was off. Matt wrapped the towel around himself first before wrapping one around me, and then picking me up to carry me out of the bathroom.

"I can walk myself, Matt," I said, although we both knew that was untrue.

"Your still trembling legs say otherwise," he noted.

He carried me to his bedroom. We dried ourselves off as much as we could with the towels before discarding them onto the floor and getting into his bed. Matt pulled me to him, resting my head against his chest. There was still so much we probably should discuss, but neither of us made the effort to say anything. We weren't ready to face the reality of what was next for us as roommates. Instead, we were content to lay together for just a while longer, until the heat became too much to bear once again.

I listened to his heartbeat, and I couldn't help but think about how all of this started because he claimed he could hear my own.

~~~

toss a coin to your witcher!

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[sparklingblu]

Inferior Activities

Lia x M Reader

"How's the salad?"

"Oh, it's great" you answer as you try not to grimace after swallowing the lettuce that taste no different from paper.

"I made few twists to the dressing, you know. A family secret" The bald man winks as he takes another bite of the potato that would have turned to coal if it have been roasted a minute more.

Studying the plates of green laid out all across the table, you make a firm decision never to become a vegan. At least not if your father in law is gonna be your chef. Lia has warned his cooking skills are terrible but you didn't expect it to be this awful. The only tolerable content of the table seems to be the so-called vegan meat and even that's starting to taste lesser and lesser like meat with each bite. No offense to all those animal loving vegans out there but they really are missing out a lot in their life. You wouldn't have lasted a day if you have to survive without meat.

Your eye flicker up to Lia, seated across, to see if she's on the same page with you on the matter. She lazily plops a broccoli into her mouth, her eyes betraying no signs of disappointment. The corner of her lips twitch in a thin smile as if to mock your suffering. She looks contented even.

In the end, you only have yourself to blame. When Lia suggestsled you visits her dad on the weekends, you agreed with a simple nod. Sure, it's your first time meeting her old man but what could go wrong? Right?

Except that everything does. As soon as you enter the house, the first thing the dude asked you was your opinion on wildlife conservation. At first you thought he was joking then you find out he's actually very serious about the matter. Weather talk would have been a good starter. Seriously, who starts a conversation like that?

Then after seeing the dishes he has prepared, you find out making conversation is the least of your worries. He's your father in law and you have respect for him and all but this dude is horrible at being a vegan. If he calls his mushroom soup which tastes more like mushroom-flavored dishwater 'a masterpiece', you might as well consider becoming a chef. Who knows? Maybe you will even get a couple michelin stars.

You are thinking of a way to escape this organic hell and the constant ear rape about how billions of animals are killed per year for human consumption when Lia finally comes to your aid.

"Dad, we are nearly done. Why don't you go make your signature smoothie? I haven't got the chance to taste it since I left for college" she suggests and the old man's eyes twinkle with maddening joy.

"Oh, of course! How could I forget that? It was your mother's favorite" his tone turns solemn at the mention of his late wife but you are too focused on the idea of finally getting some breathing room to care. "Two smoothies. Coming right up! You will absolutely love it" He winks at you again and leaves the table.

You drop your utensils and exhale in relief. "Finally. I was gonna turn into stone if I hear one more second of his animal talk"

Lia chuckles. "I get used to it after living with him for 18 years. He's actually a really sweeet guy. He just tries to focus on something else after my mom passed, I guess"

If the fact is supposed to make you feel sorry, it doesn't work. But you are not gonna tell her that. "How do you survive with this kind of food all these years?"

"It wasn't always that bad" Belle protests. "And sometimes he even cooks meat. But his skills get rusty with old age"

"Yep, I'm never becoming a vegan"

Lia pouts in annoyance. "Oh, come on. It's not that bad"

"Suits yourself"

"You just hate vegetables in general"

You roll your eyes in feigned annoyance. "Look, who's trying to follow her father's steps"

"Whatever" Lia finally gives up, pushing up her glasses from her nose. "I'm still hungry you know...."

"Maybe we can go to McDonald's or something later"

"No, daddy" Lia's voice turns low and sultry. "You know exactly what I want"

You look around in a panic to see if her dad has overheard your conversation. Thankfully, the guy's busy cutting carrots on the kitchen counter.

"Lia, I told you not to call me that in public. Especially not when your literal dad is right here" you warned, though you can't deny the fact that hearing her call you the name get your blood flowing backwards.

"Oh, come on, daddyyyyy" she pushes on, stressing the last word to make it sound even more fervorous. "I know you secretly love it"

"Look, babe. I love the name but this isn't the right place. Seriously, your dad's right there"

"So what?" Lia puts her elbows on the table, propping her chin in her palms. "Don't you enjoy a little risk?"

"Come on, babe. Not right now. I will make it up to you when you come back"

"But I want it now" Lia whines, the pout reforming on her lips. "Need to taste daddy's big cock. Need it shove down my throat"

"Lia...." you hiss, becoming aware of her tone, increasing by the second.

"Daddy pleaseee" she gives you those bambi eyes she knows you can't resist. "Let me suck your huge cock. I need you to fill up my mouth with your hot cum. I have been a good girl, haven't I? I deserve my reward" Lia runs her tongue along her top lips to punctuate her wish.

With the way her words get your asleep mamba waking up, you already know you are fighting a losing battle but you still need to be the one in charge here. "Alright, fine. But-"

"Oops. I drop my spoon" The metal hits the floor with a loud clang and Lia immediately dives down the table. It's an overused trope. You have seen it in hundreds of porn videos and you are no stranger to it. But you have never thought you would be in a similar situation and this time, the risk is very real. Her dad is not a paid actor who would pretend to be oblivious at the scene which would soon unfold.

"Is everything ok?" Lia's dad shouts from the kitchen counter, now washing.....are those eggplants?

"Yes, mister! We are gold!" You replies, hoping he would stay focused on his veggies.

You look down and find Lia already kneeled between your legs, a flicker of amusement in her eyes behind those glasses. Her lips curve into an impish smile. "Just stay still and let me do all the work, daddy" she whispers, her hands already working on your zipper. With one swift pull, she opens it up, revealing your red underwear underneath. "Oh, daddy's wearing my favorite colour today" Lia muses as she grabs your cock over the thin fabric, her thumb tracing slow circles. "Daddy, you are already so hard"

As much as you want to prolong this pornographic session, her dad is not going to be in the kitchen forever and you don't want to give him a heart attack. "Babe, enough teasing. Make it quick" you warn and her thumb rests on your head, pressing down on that sensitive spot she only knows. You let out a half-formed moan, not daring to be loud.

"You know the magic word, daddy. No need to be so formal" she presses again and you grit your teeth.

"Start sucking my cock, you slut" you calls her by her favorite nickname, which intsantly gets her engines revving.

"Yes, daddy" she release her grip, pulling down your underwear. Your rock hard cock springs out in a flash, hitting her spectacles. "Someone's eager" Lia chuckles, placing her brown locks behind her back, preparing for the main course. Her left hand close around your base, pumping it up and down in an agonizingly slow pace. She looks at your cock like it's something glorious, something she should be worshipping. But that's not so far from the truth. If this slut wants to choke on your cock, you are gonna permit it happily.

"Daddy, you are so big" Lia mutters dreamily, her free hand fondling your balls each at a time. The combination gets your mind cloudy, basking in the pleasure you nearly forget the whole point of this.

"I don't see you sucking my cock?" Lia stops her movements at your words and you nearly reget telling her to stop. But that doesn't last long because Lia instantly starts obliging to your command.

"Patience, daddy" With that, her rosy lips seal around your tip, taking you partly into the warmth of her mouth. Meanwhile, her hands grab your shaft, working in unison with each drag of her lips. The twist of her fingers along with her tongue that swirls around your slit gets you throwing your head back, letting out a graon. Then you quickly recompose not to expose yourself.

Lia doesn't seem to be bothered. Getting caught seems to be the last thing on your mind as she slurps on your head with fevorous vigour. Like it's the most delicous lollipop she has ever tasted. Her tongue gathers up any pre cum that leaks from your slit, taking it straight down to her stomach. She would takes anything your cock has to offer.

Every moment or so, you would check on her dad, making sure the guy's still busy brewing his organic potion which contents are starting to get weirder. But as long as he's busy, you don't care what he's putting into that blender. It's the best for him and you. You doubt the old man would be as merciful to you as he is to wildlife if he finds out his daughter is giving you head under his table.

But the task proves to be harder because Lia's dad would throw you ocassional glances and you have to put on this stupid grin everytime, which is not so easy with how Lia's sucking you off. Now she has taken half your cock into her mouth, her cheeks hollowed with unfathomable suction. Her hair sways with every bob of her head, forming silky waves of hazel. All the while, she keeps her eyes on you behind those circular frames, those pools of black seems to be asking if she's doing a good job.

"God, Lia....just like that" you grip the edge of the table to compensate for not being able to rejoice in the bliss of Lia's wet hole freely. Your head darting up and down as you keep watch on her father as well as enjoy the view between your legs.

Your shaft is now ringed with red as Lia leaves tarces of her lipstick mixed with her saliva while her lips glide smoothly along your cock, making it a red wet mess. Not like you mind. She can keeps messing it up all she wants.

Her tongue action doesn't waver either, licking up any available part but escpecially under your tip to tackle your weak spot each time she takes you in. To add icing on the cake, she has her left hand wrapped around your base to pump the lengths unattended by her mouth, not leaving out any throbbing vein.

You are helpless against her attack, the only action from your side to keeps grabbing the tablecloth into an unshapely tangle. And even that's starting to fail at holding back your moans.

A loud whirring sound fills up the place as Lia's dad starts brewing all those green stuffs in the blender. He gives you a thumbs up and you smile back, shammming excitement. The sound of the blender blades reminding you of the disguisting smoothie you will soon have to drink.

However, Lia takes advantage of the noise by taking your whole length down on her throat, the loud gagging sound lost in the echoes of spinning blades. You take the chance to make any audible sound that would let you express your euphoria. A moan. Then two. Then a couple more. It no longer seems to be ending as Lia devour your cock like a hungry animal, hitting the back of her throat each time she deeothroats.

Drops of saliva litters the ground. The evidences of Lia's godly work. Gags after gags escape her mouth in rhythm with your moans. However, escape won't be suitable here with the way your cock is blocking her airway. But that isn't a problem because she would choose your dick over oxygen.

The blender keeps whirring and Lia keeps choking on your cock. Her glasses now tilted at a strange angle from the force of her movement, the temple hanging on one ear only. Currently, her vision isn't as important as the taste of your dick on her tongue.

Lia finally pulls back, trails of saliva running from your tip to her lips. A waterfall of saliva staining her white shirt. Her tongue rolled out and her temples dripping with sweat.

"Daddy....am I...good?" she pants like a bitch in heat, all her lipsticks all gone.

"Very. But you gotta finish what you start my little slut"

"Yes, daddy. Feed me your thick cum. I want it all"

"Then come and take it"

Lia dives back on your cock, immeditaely swallowing your whole length. You groans out at the burst of pleasure, her throat constricted around your shaft. Lia holds her position, her nose pressed to your pelvis for a few moment before pulling back, just to start fucking her throat on your cock again and again.

The sound of the blender stops and you hear the clink of glasses. Turning your head, you find Lia's dad pouring the green liquid into two glasses. It would only be a few minutes before he comes back.

Lia seems to realize to because her lips form an airtight seal around your head and her hands satrt pumping your shaft furiously. Using all your willpower to hold out from finishing earlier leaves no strength left to withstand Lia's final assault. Your cock starts throbbing and soon you are spilling your cum into her mouth. Some reaching her tongue, the other flowing straight down her throat. Lia's fingers keep twisting back and forth and you empty the last drops of your protein rich fluid into her welcoming hole.

You close your eyes, breathing hard. The relief is instant as much as the build up is agonizingly blissful. Lia releases your cock with a pop and lick up the remnants of cum on the tip. You are too lost in the euphporic finale you totally forget the perilous situation you are in. When you realize, it's too late.

Lia's dad is near the table, two glasses of the green smoothie in his hands. His face is a mixture of shock and distress as he stands rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on her daughter's face a few centimeters away from your spent cock. His mouth opens but before he can speak, Lia chimes in.

"Thanks for the meal daddy. But I don't think I'm going to need the smoothie. I already have dessert"

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

[romanoffsbish]

Carved With Love

Natasha Romanoff x Wife!R

Yelena Belova x Fem!R (The true love story 🥹)

Yelena’s in town for the holiday season, and who would she be if not wreaking havoc? | WC: 1,986

Warnings: Mentions of Neglectful Past | Siblings

Yelena was a menace; you knew that from the insight your wife gave you before she introduced you to her.

“Y/N, she literally blew herself up and said it was fun,” your wife had reiterated her stance, that being: Yelena was a complete and total maniac. “Sounds like she’d fit right in with you and your band of superheroes,” was all you’d said back while adding pasta to your cart.

The two of you had been together for nearly a decade when they found each other again, and though the blonde was wary of a meeting she quickly agreed after hearing that the two of you were married with kids.

——

You couldn't really blame her for wanting to meet them more, especially your daughter, the eldest, who shared a name with her. They clicked instantly. Then there were your sons that you carried back to back, Andrei and Aleksander, who were bonded like twins. It was like they gained a triplet with their aunt. Then there’s the latest, Flora, who was just turning six months old and who was absolutely in love with the blonde.

The group were nothing but trouble, you adored that.

When you met her, your heart had doubled in size as you realized she was just trying to forget, to be a kid. Something you knew she never got to be, so just like with your own children, you let her get away with it all.

Natasha didn't much appreciate that, well, truthfully she adored just how much you already loved her sister. But, she was a bit jealous that you were so lenient with her, even if she knew you weren’t with her because she needed the structure and redirection you provided her.

As of right now, she thought you were also insane, "Detka, I don't think you thought this through..." Natasha mumbled against your temple from behind, where she stood with you securely in her arms, and you shook your head and softly chuckled. "It's fine baby."

Natasha currently feared for everyone's safety as her sister held one of those little orange carving knives.

"Oh my gosh, Y/N Romanoff, look!" Yelena shrieked, and your wife sighed when she felt your body relax. There was no hope left, you were at her sister's mercy. Yelena held up a stencil and you smiled. "It's cute."

"No, it is badass!" Yelena corrected, only to be met with a glare from her sister. "Watch your language."

"Natasha," you scolded instantaneously, "Lighten up."

"But she —," Natasha went to defend her decisions but quickly cut herself off when you turned with a glare.

Everyone got away with murder, except Natasha. (Well, in this symbolic context that is…)

Yelena smiled smugly at her sister, she even stuck her tongue out to mock her as you weren't looking. The redhead flipped her off, and your daughter gasped. "Mama! That's the bad finger!" Your eyes widened. "Natasha! What are you now? Some sort of hypocrite?"

"Predateli'," Natasha grumbled, making your daughter laugh alongside her aunt who was taping the ghost cat on a zombie dog's head stencil to her large pumpkin.

(Traitors)

"You all behave," you scolded the entire room before leaving to the kitchen to collect the cookies. Natasha tried to follow you, like a hurt puppy, but you made her stay behind to make sure nobody had a carving crisis. 

Which was in vain because when you came back in the room you found Yelena had upgraded to your sharp carving knife, and you nearly dropped your plate.

"Yelena honey, that's too dangerous," you practically shrieked, but not really to avoid her hand slipping. Not that you didn't have faith in her trained hands, but you knew accidents could happen regardless of skillsets. The blonde pouted up at you, and Natasha watched you once again melt into her little sister's charm.

"I can't use the little orange one," she pleaded for your understanding, "It is too tiny and ineffective."

"Okay," you folded instantly and your wife's eyes widened with flashes of shock and betrayal. The one time Natasha had done the same thing years back, before your kids, you'd given her a safety lesson.

“This isn’t fair,” she grumbled to herself, but she also let it go when she saw you sitting with her sister, eyes focused in on the way she carved the pumpkin and mouth at the ready to give her advice or a light scold.

Natasha let her festering resentments go, and shortly after joined you all at the table so that the youngest member of the house could play with the guts. It was a perfect moment of domesticated bliss, and the redhead couldn’t help but to feel at peace in current company.

Then the following morning came, and you learned a few things. Yelena had a new favorite holiday, and in turn a hobby, carving, which piggybacked right off of her other, bugging her older sister as if it was her job.

"Natasha," you tried to calm her, your hands on her tense shoulder as you kept her from lunging at the blonde. "You need to calm down my love, I can..."

"No!" Natasha cut you off, "She will do it, not you."

"She's our guest," you reminder her, but she merely rolled her eyes—something she never did towards you. "More like a pest, Y/N/N, make her leave before I do."

Your eyes narrowed fast, and your wife cowered at the sheer intensity. "Apologize to her, right now Natalia."

The redhead held back a scoff. Yelena had carved a face only a mother could love into her favorite fall leather jacket, yet she was the one who had to apologize here.

"I'm sorry, parshivets," she begrudgingly spat at the grinning blonde across the room. "I accept, cyka."

(Brat / Bitch)

You sighed, and regretfully turned to face the smug blonde. This was partially your fault too for having let the girl get away with murder up until this point.

"Yelena, now it's your turn." Yelena frowned, but then she nodded and relaxed her features. "Sorry sestra," her tone was genuine, "I will buy you another one."

"No, you don't have to," you let the girl off the hook. "Yes she does." Natasha rebuked your words in a flash, then she intelligently rephrased, "No you don't."

You smirked and rewarded her with a kiss that she tried to melt into, but once again Yelena interrupted with a rumbling stomach. "Can we make pancakes?"

Natasha's hands harshly gripped your hips, and you smiled at her in understanding, she missed you. "How about you go get the kids up while we make breakfast?"

The redhead reluctantly let you go with a nod, but before she got too far you pulled her in for another kiss. "I'll be all yours soon, just have some patience."

Yelena was leaving after the holiday's event, and the kids were going to Wanda's for a spooky sleepover. You'd planned accordingly, and your wife smirked at the reminder, chastely pecked your lips then ran up the stairs with a reinvigorated pep in her once glum step.

"Get the chocolate chips," you instructed your sous chef, and she did so with a smile. Yelena was learning to cook from you, you never outright said it, but you worried about her eating habits. All she could make was mac and cheese and that was artery clogging if not met with a balance of other things besides takeout.

Yelena appreciated your concern, it was clear to her that you were the perfect match for Natasha, because you were an even better platonic match for her. The way you let her just be who she was, who she was discovering herself to be with her newfound freedom, meant the absolute world to her. You were a light that she found comfort in, and would never let go of.

Once you showed Yelena how to make the batter you let her ladle it onto the griddle. "Don't flip it yet," you instructed, your back was turned but you were aware of her piqued curiosity and she was enamored by your spy like skills. "You're like a super mom or something."

"It's nice to see my skillset is appreciated," you teased the younger girl as you returned to her side and gently bumped her hip. "I appreciate all of you, sestra."

It took you a second to reel in your emotions, you'd only been hoping that she wouldn't hate you, but it turned out that she actually liked you, and you didn't want to cry and make her reevaluate that judgement.

Instead you settled on hugging her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake as you showed her the indicators for flipping before finally letting her flip the pancake.

Just as you settled a pancake on the plate you heard an obnoxious scraping on the glass. "What the—." There before you was a focused blonde, the tip of her tongue rested on her lower lip as she carved your perfectly round pancake into a ghost cat. You shook your head with a fond smile, "You really love knives, don't you?" Yelena mirrored your expression and nodded as she now carved an eye into a pumpkin. "They are so cool."

"Natasha loves her guns the same." Yelena flinched, "Guns are too rigid, and loud. Knives are fun, you can do flip tricks with them and they're just as lethal."

You noted her clear discomfort with firearms, and filed it away in your mind as a later topic of discussion, and fortunately the kids came barreling into the kitchen. Yelena dropped the knife and, just like every morning, she greeted the little boys with the tickle monster.

Then came your daughter’s greeting, “Yelena Belova!"

Yelena then followed her lead, “Yelena Romanoff!"

You shook your head at their antics, then you returned to your task at hand, and began to set the table. You placed the blondes masterpieces in their designated spots, a pumpkin for each boy, the cat for her parrot, and the torn to bits pieces went to the toothless baby.

You were gifted two perfectly sized hearts, topped with fruit and whipped cream. Natasha got zero change to the shape, but instead, she was gifted icing words.

“I’m not eating that,” Natasha growled, and you bit back a laugh as you saw the script. “What’s it say?”

Natasha shook her head at you, and glared in her sister’s direction as you attempted to read the Russian out loud, “Tvoya zhena lyubit menya bol'she.”

(Your wife loves me more)

“Damn right,” Yelena teased as she sat in front of her own pancake, “Don’t worry sestra, she loves you too.”

“You two, knock it off and eat your breakfast,” your mom voice came out, and everyone was suddenly sat. You nibbled on your food while making sure your baby didn’t choke on hers as she gobbled it down like a cat (Liho and Bob) being fed at the normal time everyday.

Once breakfast was finished you sent the kids to the living room with their aunt to watch cartoons while you and your wife cleaned up the mess left behind.

As you were packing up the fruit you felt two arms snake around your waist, and a kiss placed on your neck that you instantly melted into. You felt her smirk but ignored her smugness as you lazily cleaned up.

"You're spoiling her," Natasha groaned, you shrugged and turned around to face her with a genuine smile. "I'm just giving her the same chances I did you."

Natasha frowned, "I hope it's not exactly the same."

"That’s disgusting!" Yelena groaned from the couch and you giggled into your wife's shoulder. Avoiding the question in your kids eyes, and leaving Natasha to answer it. The redhead smirked, throwing her sister a wink before she completely pulled you out of the room.

Two could play at this game…

—

[dyns33]

Priority task

Another little Deadpool story, with a Spiderwoman reader this time ! Because Pool loves Spidey, in every universes.

Since the beginning, in this universe anyway, Y/N had been the one and only Spider-woman.

She knew there were other spiders, working together with some special watch, traversing space and time, but she had politely told Miguel O'hara she wasn't interested.

If there really was a threat impossible to defeat without her, he could call her, but she already a lot of work in her own world.

One of the most difficult tasks was dealing with Deadpool.

The Merc with a Mouth was unpredictable, changing moods almost every hour when they met. He had even tried to kill her at first.

Then they had talked while he was pinned to the wall. Y/N had tried to send him to prison before, but he always ended up escaping. Besides that, he would sometimes join her during a fight to help her, even if she didn't approve of his methods.

"You have to stop killing people ! Otherwise we won't be able to work together, and I'll have to send you back to prison !"

"And what do I get out of it ? Besides the pleasure of admiring your magnificent ass, of course. Look at this masterpiece. It's worth all the gold in the world, but it doesn't pay the bills, pumpkin. So why would I change what's working ?"

"Because it's wrong !"

"… You're cute. Yellow and White think you're cute too. We could go out if I agree to stop unliving people ?"

"We could at least be friends."

"Hmm. Already friendzoned. But it's still tempting. Normally people yell at me or shoot me in the head, you're the first one to be nice to me."

It was a pretty sad revelation.

Wade Wilson's life was pretty sad. He wasn't a saint, you could blame him for a lot of things, but that didn't mean he deserved all the horrors that had happened to him.

However, there was no way she could feel sorry for him when she saw him shooting criminals, slicing them up with his katanas, slaughtering them with his fists. No one deserved to die, that was the rule.

"Even me ?"

"Yes, Deadpool, even you."

"I can't die, you understand that, cupcake ?"

"I noticed after the first time I found you headless."

"You cried, and you stayed with me until I explained it was going to take a long time to grow back. So cute !"

It was probably because he was so lonely that Deadpool had started following her and imitating her, doing his best to become a hero. He still had mood swings and PG18 moments, but he really tried, apologizing every time he made a mistake and trying to make up for it with as many good deeds as possible.

In addition to gaining the approval of the public and some of the other superheroes, who nonetheless couldn't stand him because of his vulgar and childish behavior, Wade considered Spidey's friendship and pride the most important thing in the world.

"If my future wife was ashamed of me, that would still be grounds for divorce."

"Be serious, Pool."

"I'm being deadly serious ! Only love could change a man like me, with my face like an old avocado who'd taken a nuclear bomb on…"

"Tell White and Yellow to be nicer."

"Aaaw, you're defending me, cutiepie, so adorable ! But it was just me this time, they were saying much more horrible and realistic things."

Yes, managing Deadpool was a full time job. Because he was difficult to manage, because he spent his time flirting with her, and even though she did her best to ignore him, Y/N loved him very much. She kept telling herself he didn't mean what he said. Jokes, nothing more. A game.

She sometimes responded, which had the advantage of shutting him up for a few minutes, frozen in shock, before he started jumping around, explaining point by point everything he had planned for their wedding.

Even if he had been serious, there was a slight problem. Everyone knew Wade Wilson was Deadpool. He didn't hide it, he'd even written it on his business card, and the only reason he didn't like taking off his mask was because he didn't want to receive comments about his appearance.

Before showing her his face for the first time, Deadpool had warned his dear Spidergirl that she would probably feel like throwing up, that she would be scared, that it would probably be the last time she would want to talk to him, because of the nightmares she would have afterward.

She wasn't going to pretend the scars and other deformities weren't visible. But when she patted his shoulder and said she didn't care, all she saw was his bright, grateful eyes. The marriage proposals were even more frequent after that.

On the other hand, no one knew Y/N was Spiderwoman.

It wasn't because she didn't trust Wade. After several months, he was certain he had the ability to figure out who she was if he wanted, and that he wouldn't because he respected the sacred code of secret identity.

It was also ridiculous to be afraid he'd die. Y/N didn't want anything bad to come to him, but after seeing him come back to life more than thirty times, it had almost become normal.

The only times she was as sad as she was furious was when he caused his death. This happened less and less, she liked to believe it was under her influence. Even though he wasn't really in love, Y/N could see he liked her too.

So it was a shock when she ran into him in a coffee shop under her secret identity. Sure, he was wearing his suit, which scared the employees and other customers a bit, but Wade didn't seem to notice her at all, talking passionately to the cashier about all the weird coffee names he wanted to try, while searching for his purse.

"… Damn, I left it in my other suit. Can you put it on my tab ?"

"It doesn't work like that here, sir."

"But it's just a coffee… which costs way too much, I think, just because you add caramel, milk, banana, and honey. I saw you judging my blend, by the way ! I want to see your manager !"

"I'm sorry, sir, if you can't pay, I can't serve you."

"Listen to me, you…"

"I'll pay for him."

Everyone looked at Y/N as if she were completely crazy, Deadpool first and foremost, very surprised that someone would make such an offer.

He then thanked her as if she'd just offered him a kidney, shaking her hand and saying she was a saint. But nothing else.

No remarks about her ass, no compliments like he offered so many to Spidey, nothing at all.

Yet, Y/N had already seen him flirt with a lot of people, and not just heroes or vigilantes. So she felt a little offended.

Curious, she asked him how his day had gone when they met up in the evening to patrol the city together.

"Oh, nothing special, pumpkin love. TV, pizza, a solo session with my unicorn plushie, the usual. Seeing you is the only thing that brightens my day."

"Really ? No memorable encounters ?"

"No. Oh, yes, a very rude cashier with no taste in coffee. I would have killed her, but you would have been angry."

"Is that the only reason you spared her ? No outside intervention at all ?"

"Hmm," Deadpool said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. "Maybe the girl who paid for my coffee helped calm me down, a little. It restores a little faith in humanity."

"Was she pretty, that polite young lady ?"

"No idea. I was focused on my morning coffee."

Wade would never have ignored Y/N as Spiderwoman, for a coffee or all the money in the world. But he had seen her, the real her, and it hadn't affected him at all. No interest, not a spark.

She flirted with him less after that, terribly hurt.

Before becoming a hero, she had a lot of insecurities, she didn't like herself much, and it hadn't necessarily improved despite her powers or her notoriety. It was hard to be alone.

But she was used to it, it didn't matter.

"Baby girl ! Wait for me ! Wha… AAAAH !"

Y/N quickly launched a web to catch Deadpool, preventing him from cracking his skull in the middle of the street, but she set him down on a rooftop before continuing on her way, ignoring him.

Maybe she was more hurt than she wanted to admit. Just seeing Wade was becoming difficult to bear, reminding her that he didn't really want her.

"If it's your secret identity you're avoiding me for, I haven't told anyone and I didn't follow you, I promise !" he shouted as she was about to disappear behind a building.

"…Huh ?" she said, frowning, turning around immediately to almost jump on him.

"Spidey ! You're not mad at me anymore !"

"What are you talking about ?"

"… I thought I was super good at lying, but apparently you saw right through me. Yes, I recognized you, okay ?! What girl that cute and with that ass would be nice enough to buy me a coffee ? But I didn't say anything ! I didn't follow you afterward, I didn't look for your name or address, I respected the code of honor, I swear ! And I know you're super shy. Don't run away from me again…"

In the time they'd known each other, it had become quite rare for Wade to manage to surprise Y/N. He could talk about his voices, his fantasies, the unicorn, it was normal.

But at that moment, the Spider froze, not knowing how to react. Not only had he found her beautiful, but more importantly, he had recognized her, right away, and to avoid scaring her, to prevent the people around them from suspecting anything, he had held back, pretending to have no interest in this stranger.

"I know I'm annoying." He continued, lowering his head. "Ugly, and boring, and stupid, and all that. Even if we're best friends, as proven by the two friendship bracelets I wear to keep you from losing yours, I don't want you to cut me out of your life. I love you, Spideygirl."

"I love you too, Wade."

"You're cute. I'm going to dream about it tonight, after a long shower. Because there's you in the costume, you out of it, both at the same time, so many possible scenarios, it's… What are you doing ?"

"I love you, Wade," Y/N repeated after removing her mask, staring straight into his eyes with equal parts hope and fear.

"… I do."

"Huh ?"

"My answer to the priest, for our wedding day."

Y/N groaned as she smacked him upside the head, though she couldn't help but smile. Then she lifted her mask to kiss him, before quickly covering herself and jumping off the roof, leaving him frozen.

It took him almost ten minutes to come back to his senses, if she believed the shouts in the streets as he called out to her, begging her to come back because he needed a name for the weddings cards.

[shiiro-arts]

Thank you so much for replying to my previous ask in such detail (I loved it and really, really appreciate your efforts 🙏)

I just started rewatching the anime and I saw the focus they kept on Lisanna hence my doubt. From Erza I felt it was more of a sibling type dynamic (that Erza sees Natsu and Gray more as her younger brothers) but they really pushed the Lisanna narrative in the beginning. And given the way he reacted differently to Lucy and Lisanna like becoming flustered with Lisanna I wondered.

Please do talk about the killing himself part too.

I love reading your analysis!! Thank you so much for your hard work ❣️ (Feel free to push in NaLu scenes that show it their bond more obviously)

Hi!! I'm happy you liked it, I'm going to try and talk about Natsu and Lisanna a little bit more and then I'll start with the whole killing himself thing. (following this post)

I think the reason they focused on Natsu and Lisanna at the beginning is because a lot of studios/mangakas have the need to create a couple, even better if it's an MC. And pairing Lucy and Natsu up from the beginning doesn't make any sense, they just met and didn't know each other.

Lisanna is a really important person to Natsu, although they hardly interact anymore.

She supported Natsu when he first came to the guild and became his first friend. Not only that, she helped him with Happy, hence the whole wife and husband thing, they represented a family.

Natsu is not as stupid as they make him out to be, he knows what marriage is, exclusivity to a partner

and things only adults are supposed to do.

He knew what Lisanna meant by "we'll get married in the future," and if she had never "died," NaLi would have made sense.

But it happend, Lisanna "died" and Natsu had to get over her. This doesn't mean forget her tho, as I said, Natsu LOVES his family and friends, forgetting about lisanna just because she died would not make any sense. It takes time to accept death, and after Igneel's disappearance, the death of lisanne hit him, HARD.

The only thing he could do was getting over her, but not forgetting her.

And that's when Lucy comes into the picture.

She keeps bumping into him, buys him food for "no reason" and talks all mighty and good about his family, basically, she gives him good vibes. He takes her to FT and for some reason she follows him everywhere and before he knows it, he wants to partner up with her.

This is development by natsu's part, he is ready to open up to new people (Lucy) and pretty much they become attached to the hip, because "she is nice", yeah, that's his reason.

Lisanna wasn't meant to come back, mashima himself said so, the only reason they brought her back was because the animation staff preasured him to because they liked her. NaLi is not happening because Mashima never had anything planned for her, and I'm not saying this because I'm a NaLu fan, it's just facts. Thats why she is so useless in the manga, because mashima doesn't know what to do with her. She is just there.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Let's beging with the whole suicide thing

I want to clarify that this is MY PERSPECTIVE, you might agree or disagree with me and thats completely fine.

Let me beging with one thing, and that is that natsu IS NOT SUICIDAL.

He wants to live his life at the fullest and he looks forward to the future.

Then why do I say he wanted to kill himself? because when lucy "died", he was so full of grief that he just didn't care any more.

One thing that they make clear is that the demons of zeref, once awaken, have only one thought in their minds: KILLING ZEREF

Lucy's "death" is what awoke END, Natsu felt so desperate and he was so full of grief that he literally abandoned his humanity.

She was gone and he blamed zeref, because if he had never started the war, she would be alive, that was enough for him to abandon his morals and look forward to kill someone.

Now comes the important part: his confrontation with grey

This part is really important because it shows that Natsu is aware of his actions.

If he really was completely possessed by END, then he would not have hesitated and warn grey about getting out of his way, he would have just killed him and keep going, but Natsu warns him several times

Until he doesn't give a damn anymore and attacks him.

Natsu was adamant about going after zeref and killing him, but he is also aware that if he does so, he will die. Zeref told him so himself.

But lucy is dead, so he just doesn't care anymore.

Igneel talked to him about looking at the future

But Lucy wasn't in that future anymore, so he can't look forward for it, because it died the moment Lucy did. if she wasn't in it, why bother? He knew that killing zeref was killing himself.

Gray literally saved Natsus life confronting him

This whole panel is foreshadowing to Lucy dying and Natsu wanting to die because of it

[storiesaplenty]

Goodbye Sunshine

Bridgerton family x sister!sibling

Bridgerton Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: death. Stabbing. Anguish. Sadness.

WC: 1543

From my previous account plentyoffandoms.

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Summary: Colin's twin sister saves Kate from being stabbed during a day-time robbery, but ends up dying in the process. This is the aftermath of that faithful day where the Bridgerton family lost a sister and a daughter.

I felt like I couldn't breathe.

The words of the priest sounded faint in my ears as I looked at the casket.

There were her favourite flowers everywhere, our mother and sisters making sure that there were as many as they could find.

Anthony was sitting next to our mother, who looked like she had no more tears left to cry.

His wife, Kate, was sitting between the two of us, looking at the casket, her hands over her pregnant belly, as her shoulders shook with her cries.

She is still blaming herself for what happened to our sister, but she is not to blame. Kate will never be blamed for what happened to my twin sister.

Kate and her were out shopping for the perfect gift for Eloise, as her birthday was coming upon us fast, and there was a book that our sister so desperately wanted to get her.

Kate, tired of being cooped up in the house, agreed to take her to go and get this book, as she was still unmarried, and therefore needed a chaperone.

I offered to take them both, but the two of them insisted that they shall not be long and will return within the hour.

I waited, and when it was 15 minutes past the hour mark, I knew something was wrong, as did Anthony. The two of us were about to grab our jackets, to go and find them when there an urgent knock on the door.

Him and I went to see what the commotion was, and I found myself looking at the tear-streaked face of one Mr. Albion Finch, brother-in-law of our brother, Colin.

"Mr Finch, what a pleasant suprise. Please come in. Has something happened to your wife? You look to be in distress." I said to him, concerned for the man.

"Please come with me. There is no time to explain." Was all he said, Anthony and I looking at one another before following Mr Finch.

We came upon a large crowd, with many of the women hiding their faces in their husbands chest, or the ones just staring, with tears streaming down their faces.

The crowd went almost quiet, as they saw Anthony and I. I heard two more people running towards us, and I heard Colin ask what was going on.

I looked back and saw that he was accompanied by Mr Harry Dankworth, his other brother-in-law.

"Anthony, Benedict, what is going on?"

We didn't have time to answer, as Kate appeared from the crowd, crying hysterical, as Genevieve was right behind her, her too with tears streaming down her face.

"What is going on?" I asked her, looking around for our sister, but then I noticed that there was a body laying on the ground, covered in blue fabric.

The crowd moved aside as I raced to see if it was my twin or not.

"Please stay back." One of the Bow Street Runners said. "He is her brother. They all are." Genevieve told the officer.

At that very moment, I collapsed on the ground next to her, moving the blue fabric from her face.

I made no sound as I saw her laying there, her eyes, the same colour as mine, looking back at me with no life behind them.

I cupped her cheek, hoping to feel something, but her body felt cool.

"What happened?" I looked up at the officer.

"We must wait for her husband." He said as I stood up, ready to fight him, when Anthony stepped forward.

"Our sister is not married. I am head of the family, now please answer the question."

Kate spoke up at this point. Her focus only on our sister. "We just left the shop, her and I talking about Eloise's birthday, when we were approached by a man."

I listened as she continued to tell us what happened. He asked for some change, and Kate gave him some, as did my sister.

He saw that they had money and pulled out a knife. He demanded their pouches, and they gave them to him, but he went to attack Kate, and our sister stepped in the way.

My twin was stabbed, and no one could get the bleeding to stop. I noticed at that moment that Kate was covered in her blood.

"I tried to save her." Were her last words, as she once again broke down in Anthony's arms.

Colin rushed home to tell our family.

I stayed by her side, never once leaving her. My hand holding hers, refusing that this was now reality. I wished myself to wake up from this nightmare, her calling me silly for having such a foolish dream.

But I never woke up.

Not even when her body was moved to a cart to be transported to our family home.

Anthony, Kate, and I walked beside it. Many members of the ton were out, watching as the three of us walked beside the dead body of my twin sister.

As we turned onto our street, our mother, sisters, and brother were standing outside, with Lady Danbury, who always seemed to know what was happening in the ton.

Our mother came rushing towards us, her focus on her oldest daughter, pulling the fabric back. Her screams of anguish forever etched into our minds.

She collapsed but Colin caught her. Our other siblings came and joined us. Hyacinth, after seeing her, wrapped her arms around Gregory, who just looked at his older sister, anger came over his face. Eloise, and Francesca held onto me, while Daphne was holding onto Penelope.

I still couldn't believe that this was all real. Just yesterday, I was in her bedroom, just looking around. I found her journal, and I looked through it. Just hearing her voice in my head as I read it.

I was on her bed, looking at her sketches and drawings of our family and friends, and there were a few of her.

One even dated the before she passed. I was looking at the drawing, and that is how my mother found me.

"Benedict, what are you doing in here?" She asked softly. My mother was trying to be strong for all of us, but she did not need to be. "I am just looking at her work, and you Mother?" I asked as I sat on the side of the bed.

"I must pick out her outfit." She said as the tears streamed down her face. She opened the wardrobe, and she didn't move. Her face was just looking at the clothes that her and her oldest daughter got together.

"I believe she would like something in blue Mother." I said, as I stood up to find her favourite dress. When I found it, I pulled it out.

"She would be most happy with this choice. It was her favourite," Mother couldn't even speak anymore, her hand coming up to hide her face as she cried harder.

I placed the dress on the hook and brought my mother to the bed, letting her lean into me as we both cried for our lost sister and daughter.

"Hyacinth has a sweet idea. Did she tell you?" I asked mother, who nodded her head yes.

"I believe it is a wonderful idea, and she would love it knowing that we are always with her."

"Yes, as we say our final goodbyes before the casket closes, we shall place our letters with her." I did find it to be a nice idea, I just have no idea what I shall write.

As her service was over, I stood up to join my family for our final goodbyes. I looked around, and I was stunned to see how packed the church was. I could see that there were members of the ton waiting outside as well.

I let my siblings go first, ignoring the looks from Anthony and Colin.

I watched as each family member place a letter in her casket. We each agreed to keep our final words for our dear sister and daughter to our own hearts.

When it was my turn, I placed my letter next to her head, her hair matching mine, but with a pretty silk, blue bow now in it. I noticed it was frayed and well worn, and it was the one I gave her for our tenth birthday.

I had one another final gift for her, which I pulled out of my pocket. I unfolded the parchment, and gently lifted her hands to place the drawing underneath.

"Goodbye my sweet sister."

I stepped back as they closed the casket, never taking my eyes off of her until I couldn't see her anymore.

◆

We watched as she was lowered into the ground, throwing dirt atop her casket. I looked up at the beautiful clear sky, knowing my twin sister was looking down on all of us, with our father.

Holding the drawing I did of our family that I placed under her hands.

'Goodbye for now sunshine.' I thought of her childhood nickname I had for her.

As we left the cemetery, a butterfly flew in front of me, and I just knew it was her, with our family and me, always.

Tag list: @madhatterbri

[coryluvv]

Comfort♡₊ | Tom (the party)

After the party, everything seemed to go terribly wrong. Once Tom finished dealing with the mess, he came over to your place, seeking a moment of solace.

Age Gap, Drug Use (only mentioned), Cheating, Breakdown, Vulnerable, Comfort, Being humiliated. Almost no description of sex. Simply a short one.

Note: Okay I don't know if I should apologize for it but this is my first time writing of this type, so. Btw there's really barely any sex in it, but um still very intimate.

Word count: 2k

He still hadn't taken off that ring.

Tom's lips brushed against the delicate lace strap slipping from your left shoulder, as his hands gently gripped your arms. His mouth moved from there to your neck, and in that moment, a quiet sigh escaped him. You didn't find out what it meant, and perhaps it had nothing to do with you.

There was a cold silence in the room, almost unbearable, seems like it's because of this, he leaned his forehead against your shoulder, and your name lingered on his lips, just a soft, momentary whisper.

"Yes?" Your tone was tender, carrying a warmth that might invite misinterpretation, especially since he couldn't see the blank expression on your face. Tom didn't respond, didn't continue to say what he originally wanted to say, just let out a brief 'hmm'. His hand found its way to your waist, and giving it a light squeeze, which left you slightly annoyed, though you chose to stay silent.

It was difficult to describe how your relationship had come to this. Cause you were mismatched, you were his friend's daughter, and he, he's a married man. You weren' t meant for each other, yet, here you were, tangled together. Who could you blame?

Sometimes Tom fell into the habit of treating you like a little girl just like before, when your moans appeared so vividly, he seemed to understand, no matter how hard you tried to play the part of someone older, you were still just a girl, and that wouldn't change. It wasn' t a sin to confess, Tom convinced himself. It was simply mutual desire, there was no need for guilt or remorse over your age or your relationship.

You were aware of Tom's wife's betrayal. As his arms wrapped around you, caressed your bare skin, you sensed he believed this was his revenge, using you to retaliate against her, finding a fragile solace in it. But he didn't realize this only dragged him deeper into his pain. Perhaps he did understand, and he just simply didn't care, or he was unleashing his breakdown and anger onto you. Yet it always left him in agony.

This explained why he would tear off your underwear almost every time, his hands anything but gentle, almost rough. Tom was lost in a pain of his own making, and you knew it, you could sense what that pain felt like when he entered you, with a hazy hurt, his suffering was just like that, the obsessive, the selfish, and the utterly devoid of love.

He still hadn't taken off that ring, the one that symbolized true love, and it pressed into your skin, a constant, biting reminder.

This time, Tom didn't come to you just for sex or anything of the sort. Your father was away, so wasn't home. It was already past midnight, Tom's voice on the phone seemed to tremble as he asked if he could come over. You agreed, saying yes, and didn't ask anything else.

You hadn't been woken by his late-night call because you hadn't been asleep at all, you were still busy with your own things. You'd given him a spare key to your place before, so the sound of the door opening downstairs didn't startle you.

Tom was dressed in that suit you had always adored, probably just finished work or come from a party. When he pushed open your bedroom door, the faint trace of perfume hitting him, and there you were, sat at the dressing table.

Without much thought, he shut the door and walked up behind you. His hands resting on your bare shoulders. For a moment, you felt like he was about to lean into you, but, he quickly gave up for some reason, instead stepping away as if he couldn't bear anything more. He simply chose to sit on the edge of your bed, one hand pressed to his forehead, his disheveled hair hiding part of his face.

You didn't move, idly running a brush through your hair, occasionally glancing at him through the mirror, silent. He didn't say a word either, just sat there. You suspected he'd been using cocaine again, you couldn't be sure, but ever since you had found out about his habit, he'd stopped hiding it from you.

Sometimes, you find yourself wondering what kind of old man you had entangled yourself with, but in the end, it just doesn't matter anymore.

A soft sigh slipped from your lips. You gave up on the idea of tying up your hair and stood from the chair, walking barefoot toward him. In moments, you were in front of him, as he lowered his hand and lifted his gaze to meet yours. He looked utterly lost.

You stayed silent. Your hand reaching out to ran your fingers through his dark, slightly curly hair, gently brush his hair to the sides, the hair he usually took great care to style, but not today. Then your touch drifted to his cheekbone, to his cheek, your movements soft, tender, almost too tender. You gazed at his face, studying every detail, thoughtfully. And he, he drew a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly, sinking into your touch.

The hand wearing the ring came to touch yours. Tom carefully pulled your hand from his face, then pressing a brief, restrained kiss to your wrist. He didn't look up at you. After releasing your hand, letting it back on his head, he slid both hands to your waist, and this time, he looked up at you.

“Tell me I didn't do anything wrong, ” Tom pleaded as he looked at you. In his eyes, in that moment, you thought you saw something about devout. Before you could fully understand it, he suddenly leaned his head against your stomach, with his arm around you, was a gesture that carried an undeniable air of devotion indeed.

"Please-for christ sake, tell me I'm not wrong, I need to know,” He repeated. He called your name at the end, there was a blend of helplessness and anguish. You held his head close, staying silent, letting the moment happen without interruption.

Your eyes held ascrutinizing look, one he couldn't bring himself to meet. "So, what happened, hm?" It was the first thing you had said, but the true care was absent from the words spoken.

"Sometimes I wonder if you even know what you want," you said softly, your fingers still toyed with his hair. "Or if you're just running from something you can't face."

He didn't answer, just closed his eyes again, the grip on your waist pressing a little harder.

"No, it not like-it just-" He paused. "I almost made someone die today. Do you understand that? I really-what the hell am I even doing?" His voice trembled. Weak, broken, he was incapable of anything now.

You allowed him lean against you, saying nothing. There was no particular emotion, no pity, no hatred, just nothing at all. You know you didn't care enough to share in his pain. So, there was nothing left but silence.

Silence. A silence that felt infinite.

"Tom," Said suddenly, breaking the silence abruptly. "Look at me." You ordered. You could sense the quiet turmoil inside him. But eventually, his hands returning to your waist, lifting his head, and meet your gaze. The hands of yours moved to held his face. You didn't say anything more, just watching, eyes fixed on him, watching.

Then, you leaned in slightly, your lips meeting his in a soft, fleeting kiss. It wasn't deep at all, just a gentle touch. The kiss left him surprised, filled with a sense of despair and vulnerability. As you pulled away, you noticed the faint smell of hospital disinfectant clinging to his clothes.

"Fuck, why-" You cut him off. "You're not the innocent one, you know." You kissed him once more, your hands drifting to his neck, his throat. He didn't resist, he was unable to.

His pale blue eyes looked at you, seemingly seeking comfort, you held his gaze but didn't do anything. You looked at each other, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between you.

"Did the police not come for you? After something this big." The question came out of nowhere. He shut his eyes briefly, reached out to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Of course they did. Fuck.. Marianne, she almost got killed by Janet, with my goddamn gun. You know?" As he spoke, you casually rested your hands on his shoulders, your fingers brushing over the fabric of his suit.

"Well, I guess I should be glad you're not in custody, shouldn't I." He couldn't tell if you were being sincere or sarcastic, though he didn't care.

You remembered Janet, her image coming to mind, the woman who had always seemed deeply committed to her work, and oh, her husband, Bill, the man who had been cheating on her with Marianne. You could tell the relationship between the three of them was more complicated than Tom described.

"Marianne is still in the hospital, then," His silence confirmed your guess. "ls she okay?" You asked with concern. "She's fine." He brushed it off, unwilling to say more.

You nodded, "So your marriage is completely over." Your tone was neutral, simply stating the truth. “Yes, it is. Satisfied now?" His voice was edged with irritation, or maybe he just couldn't face the truth.

He glanced away briefly before looking back, letting out a heavy sigh, “Just, tell me l wasn't wrong." Almost like begging, he didn't even care if it was a lie now.

"You know I don't lie to you," Your words cut straight as if on purpose.

It was utterly miserable, and you knew he was caught in a tormenting love.

"In fact, we're no different from them, are we?" He knew exactly what you meant, his love wasn't profound or worth remembering, and that only made him feel more hopeless, as if his actions weren't driven by love but by sheer frustration and shame.

“No, do not compare me to that bastard," His hands moved from the small of your back to your waist, then down to your thighs. Looked like he was falling apart. "God, just-stop saying these damn things," He called your name, "I didn't come here to listen to your sarcasm."

Your hands shifted from his shoulders to his face, studying his state with seriousness. "Oh, I'm not being sarcastic, I'm just being honest."

Without hesitation or warning, you leaned down to meet his lips again. The kiss grew more intense, and you guided him down onto the bed, your lips never leaving his.

You pulled back, straddling him, your hands on his shoulders, a fleeting smile on your face. "Speaking of which, aren't you going to compensate me? I picked up your call so late and even agreed to let you come over." Your tone suddenly held a subtle, almost innocent undertone. But he knew, you were mocking his situation.

Tom palm drifted up to your shoulder, pressing lightly against your lace strap as if to slide it down, "What else haven't I given you?" He answered offhandedly, unconcerned about the cost of these supposed compensations.

You didn't rush to reply, just tilted your head slightly, studying him, "Hm, Tell me what you need first." You seemed entirely unhurried, as if desire had no place in you, which somehow frustrated him, the grip on your shoulder tightening. You ignored it, but leaning to kiss him once more, allowing his hand to drift lower down your chest.

"I need you. You know how I fucking need you." The words spilled out as you pulled back, unable to fight what was happening, his need for the fleeting pleasure of desire overwhelming. He needed to forget, even if only for a brief moment.

You chuckled softly as your lips brushed his cheek, then you raised your head.

"I love it when you say it like that, it always makes you look so pathetic. Don't you think so?"

[joe9cool]

The Bae Bowl- Collide

A.N. This is for fun, I do not know Justin Herbert or the Chargers, or anyone affiiated with them. Also you do not have permission to copy my work.

“God the Bengals players are so hot” Samira sighed as she watched the players warmup from the box. Sara laughed “I have to agree. Joe is fine” she said lowly enough for only Samira to hear.

“Girl I know Burrow wasn't the only one you had your eye on. Remember number 94 when you and Justin were split up.”

Sara blushed. Twirling her engagement ring she shushed her friend “who told you that?”

“You remember when we went out and you got drunk? You were practically sexting Him!”

“Oh my god!” They both busted out in giggles. Others in the suite looked over at the girls.

Once they calmed down they focused their attention back on the food tables. “I'm so happy you're back to eating normally again Sara, you had us all worried with this weight loss for the wedding”

Sara sighed. “wasn't my best moment. But thankfully Justin talked some sense to me. He fell in love with me this way, he's gonna marry me this way!”

“I know that's right!” Khalil's wife joined in and the girls clinked their cocktails together in a toast.

The game was very high energy. Sara held her breath with every play Justin made. Even though this was her 3rd season as Justin's partner It didn't make it any less daunting seeing all those huge men try to take him down.

She smiled the few times when she was shown on the big screen. Although she made many requests to please not show her on television, networks Didn't seem to care and wanted to capitalize on all the famous WAGs that were at Games.

She groaned as she scrolled Twitter on halftime, seeing the camera celebrating Justin's touchdown. Not only Did it catch her jumping up and down like a lunatic, it caught her lips saying. “That was so fucking sexy”

Of course the comments Were misogynistic. She didn't expect anything less.

—-------------------------------------------------------

“Dude what's your problem?” Justin looked over at Joey. “What?”

“You look like you're ready to murder the entire Cincinnati bench…. Particularly your eyes are following my friend Hubbard over there.” The defenseman nodded in the direction of the tall brunette.

Justin sighed. “When Sara and I were broken up they were sorta seeing each other.”

Joey nodded in understanding. “Oh well shit. I don't blame you. Was it a quick fling?”

He shook his head. “Sara said that they flirted over messages and had planned to meet up, but it never happened. They only ran into each other once at a charity event”

Justin tried to shake his head of the memory of him seeing pictures of them at the event. It had him questioning how the hell they would even cross paths as well as why didn't he agree to just go with her.  It was ridiculous, He had no reason to feel jealous. Sara loved him, she said yes to marrying him.

Maybe this was his karma for putting her through all the bs he did at the beginning of their relationship. 

As much as he tried to act like this game was just a usual game he was determined To shit up everyone who said Burrow was better than him, and it was icing on the cake that his fiancé used to flirt with one of their players.

It didn't help that Justin caught Sam looking up at the box Sara was in a few times.

Throughout the game, Justin found himself wishing he could make some play against Sam. So far his lineman were doing a good job of preventing Hubbard from getting to him.

Finally in the 4th quarter. Hubbard managed to get around the lineman and run towards Justin. Of course Justin had seen them and decided to do what might have been the stupidest decision of his career.

He used his force to run right into Hubbard. It was a hard to hard body hit that had them both going down. The whistle was blown, and to not look like a total ass, Justin helped Sam up. 

“What the fuck dude! Sam was rubbing his shoulder.”

“Sorry bro.” Justin went to the sidelines to face a very red faced Harbaugh. Knowing he was gonna get chewed out. 

Joey clapped him on the shoulder. “Taking a play out of my book huh?”

Justin smiled. 

—--------------------------------------------------------

“Is he serious?” Sara stared In shock as they replayed the hit that Justin laid on Sam. “It looks like they just collided” Mitch stated, a Late arrival due To his job. 

“He left the ground. He hit him on purpose.” Samira stated. Sara groaned. “He is lucky he didn't get a penalty.”

“Harbaugh is facing away from the cameras talking to Justin.” Mitch observed.

“No doubt, getting chewed out.” Sara shook her head. She was surely gonna bitch him up as well.

“You don't think it's because….” Samira asked when Mitch went to refill his plate. 

“It probably Is. I knew he was jealous, but I didn't Think.” She trailed off. She had caught Sam staring at her a few times, and she Had caught Justin staring at Sam staring at her.

Now the game was tied up 27-27 and Sara was getting flashbacks of the game that must not be mentioned.

Despite this, fans were in good spirits and it was so refreshing to see charger fans finally outnumber the Opponents fans.

Slowly, she and Mitch had made their way down to the stands right by the field. Fans eventually noticed, and some asked for photos and took videos.

Finally, within less than 2 minutes Dobbins had run  in the end zone. 

She let out a breath she didn't even notice was holding. Mitch lifted her in the air, she hugged and high-fived fans.

This team, this culture was different. Thanks to Jim Harbaugh. It was night and day. The Chargers were 7-3.

As the players were doing their Handshakes on The field. Sara and Mitch began to turn around and find security so she could be escorted To the family room.

“Babe!” She turned around to see Justin running towards her.

She was confused. While it was common knowledge they were engaged. This was a first. 

He Held up his hand like he was gonna high five her.

Reaching over, she was surprised to find herself being pulled down and into a quick kiss.

Stunned, she quickly gathered her bearings. “I'm proud Of you baby” she Held his hand As fans quickly tried to get In next to her. As well as photographers who surrounded Justin, trying to get a shot that they never thought they would ever see.

Eventually they let go and Sara allowed security to escort her to her locker rooms

The photos of them gazing lovingly at each other was being eaten up by fans as Sara made her way down to the locker rooms waiting for Justin.

She scrolled her phone while her crew was talking to fans. Not paying attention to her surroundings until a big figure stood in front of her. “Hi Sara. Nice to see you again.”

Sara glanced up to see Sam Hubbard with a smile on his face, freshly showered and well.. looking handsome.

“Hi Sam. Yeah we meet again.” She laughed nervously. This wasn't the best situation to be in.

“Yeah unfortunately too late.” He smiled. “I heard You are engaged, congratulations. I see Herbert got his head out of his ass.”

“Thanks?” Before she could cut the meeting short.

“Hi baby!” She was Suddenly pulled into a Hug by her massive fiancé. Letting her go, but still managing to pull her by his side. Justin gave A tight nod to Sam. “Good game Hubbard, hope your shoulder is alright. I can't believe I didn't see you”

It was Sam's turn to be uncomfortable. “Yeah I'm doing good. It's no problem. I was just congratulating Sara on the engagement.”

Justin nodded. “Yeah thanks! Did you see her ring? Show him the ring babe.”

Sara wanted to burst out laughing as she awkwardly held up Her left hand for Sam to quickly glance at it. It was obvious he didn't give a fuck. “Yeah, it's nice. Its Always a pleasure seeing you Sara. Justin.” He nodded Ans walked away. 

As soon as he was out of ear shot. Sara turned to Justin. “What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

She shook Her head. “Justin Patrick, don't play stupid. I saw that “accidental” hit on him. I caught you looking like you wanted to murder him. Kissing me on TV? And now, with your hand On my ass. You do realize it's Gonna end up on Twitter?”

Justin looked back and sure enough, a few stragglers had their phones out.

���Can you admit you were jealous?” Sara giggled. “I was not” Justin got defensive.

“Uh huh.” She pinched his side. “Let's go home babe”

A.N. I do not think this is my best work, but I had to do it. I will start working on the other parts of collide, in between by Farabee story .

[average-mako-enjoyer]

I've read a post and now I want to talk about Merrill and Anders.

I think the main message of DA2 is that even the kindest and strongest people can be broken, and the broken people can be driven to unspeakable acts of cruelty to others.

From the Alienage elf, who was separated from his wife and hasn't seen her in 10 years, to the First Enchanter Orsino, anyone can be driven to blood magic.

Now let's talk about Merrill, who absolutely uses her blood magic for combat, it's not just a game mechanic, she uses it to protect herself and her friends, and she can use it against her own clan in the end, and that's very important.

So Merrill is Marethari's First. Marethari has given Merrill enough knowledge to become the Keeper of her clan, and she keeps telling Merrill that she should take care of her people here and now, that the Eluvian is valuable, sure, but not more valuable than the safety of the clan, but Merrill becomes obsessed with this thing and the lost history and glory of the elves.

The Keeper (who is basically Merrill's mother) and her people are not as important to her as the inanimate object, and everyone knows it. When you first arrive at the Dalish camp, everyone is already done with Merrill's antics. They've tried to talk her out of her experiments too many times, and they're done.

So Merrill travels with Hawke to Kirkwall, finds herself a place in the Alienage, and continues to work on the Eluvian. And just like with her own clan, she makes no attempt to get to know anyone there. At the end of her personal quest in Act 3, she openly admits to Hawke that it never occurred to her to find out anything about the Alienage elves and their lives in all the years she lived among them. Hawke can make her reconsider, and she can reluctantly agree to start talking to the Alienage elves.

But what about Hawke's team, and Anders in particular? I won't argue that Anders is an ass to her because of her blood magic, but she's an ass to Anders too! Everyone is an ass to each other in this game and that's why it's so good, tbh.

Merrill is terribly condescending to him, and she's not just mirroring his attempts to lecture her about blood magic.

"There are no good spirits, you dummy Anders, I'm sorry you didn't know that."

"Oh yes, I'm working with the demon, but unlike you, I'm smart about it. Oh, and we don't fuck. Ew."

She completely brushes off his warnings about blood magic and losing control and becoming a monster. She's childishly ignorant about this even, telling him to stop scaring her, but continuing to use blood magic again and again, for years.

When Marethari sacrifices her life to save Merrill, Merrill blames her for it, saying "she had no right to interfere." Merrill also blames her clan, saying that everything she did, she did for them.

"But she pleads for Anders after he blows up the Chantry!"

Well, let's see why.

Anders can plead with Merrill to join the Kirkwall mage rebellion just before the end of Merrill's personal quest. Once again, Merrill brushes him off, saying it's not her fight, and then she loses Marethari and her clan.

When she pleads for him in the final chapter, she specifically talks about giving him a chance to atone for his sin. I think, Merrill pleads for Anders not out of the kindness of her heart or because she cares for him, but because she sees herself in him. Marethari dies because of Merrill's blood magic, Merrill either destroys her clan or is banished because of her blood magic, there's no atonement for her, but maybe there is for Anders. So is she pleading for him or for herself in this situation? Is this about a person she never respected or tried to know, or is it about her very fresh trauma?

Merrill is a very complex character. Smart and ignorant, terribly selfish and yet selfless. She's as blinded by the need to restore the elven lost history as Anders is by the idea of justice for the mages, they complement each other perfectly in that sense.

Every character in this game is so well written, I will never get over it.

[georgeharrisonsmiling]

I have some thoughts on the Maureen affair. I think it's crazy the way fans act like they know what happened. Everybody thought the Pattie/Eric affair was black & white until Pattie's book brought new info to light. Why doesn't it occur to anyone the same could be true here? Isn't anyone curious about why Maureen would cheat on Ringo after so many years?

This fanbase is hypocritical imo because there's constant complaining about John (in the past) and George being treated like saints but no one seems to want to accept that maybe Ringo wasn't a good husband or father. It's easy to dismiss Maureen's situation because she's dead and never told her story.

This is a controversial opinion, but I also have a problem with George's humanity being stripped away in these discussions. Yes he was messy as hell and treated Pattie badly. That is absolutely true and he deserves criticism for it, but that doesn't mean there wasn't more going on. He was sincerely hurt by what Pattie and Eric did and that made their marriage much worse. Pattie even suspected that the open cheating after that was him getting back at her or trying to make her jealous.

He also felt isolated when Pattie and their group of friends were doing drugs and pressuring him to join in or when she'd make it obvious she had no interest in his spirituality. I don't blame Pattie for that because he was super intense about it at the time, but the point is they were both suffering from no longer being in love like they used to be. He was getting a cold vibe from her just like she was from him and that gets forgotten. She had a whole affair with Ronnie Wood! George and Krissie weren't serious. Ronnie and Pattie were. They were in the press with Ronnie publicly suggesting they were moving forward together. This is like a couple weeks (maybe less?) before Maureen.

Based on her words she also didn't seem to get what a shit time he was going through between The Beatles, losing Louise, and everything else. She was more bothered about it preventing him from wanting to host parties and have fun.

By contrast Maureen WAS interested in spirituality. She knew George before he was famous. She seemed to be an easy person to talk to. I think it's possible he felt a real connection with her and found her to be a bright spot at a time when he was at his lowest.

That doesn't make the affair OK. However, surely there can be room for empathy here? Fans have an image of the two of them laughing it up while Pattie and Ringo cry over it together when the story between the lines is a tragedy on every level.

Yeah. I always felt that there is more to the affair than just George and Maureen wanting to cheat. Particularly in the obvious way they both went about it, with George declaring his love for Maureen to Ringo and Maureen showing off George's gifts in front of Pattie. Also how it all stopped after their separation but they were still friends. It doesn't seem like a regular affair.

Pattie has my sympathy and she was always in a more vulnerable position than George but that doesn't mean that everything she put in her book is the absolute truth. The book is an interesting insight to her POV and we also can accept that she omitted a lot of things like her affair with Ronnie Wood. Of that event we have 3 POVs: Pattie didn't talk about it, Ronnie says that he and George agreed to the wife swap beforehand (though in the 70s he was saying another version) and Krissy said that her affair with George started only after Pattie and Ronnie went on a vacation together. It's all a mess that just highlights how broken George and Pattie were at that point.

Ringo has the "advantage" of being the comic relief of the band to the point that most people don't bother or want to look closely into his actions. It's not a secret that he was a bad husband, a drunk, a drug user and was having affairs all the time but Maureen is the only one carrying the blame for their marriage failure. Chris O'Dell had an affair with Ringo herself and even her cannot is bit judgemental towards Maureen in her book.

The problem is that when trying to talk about it, most people want to focus on the scandalous and simpler version without digging further.

[pagonmoon]

I was cheated on before, but I didn't find out about it way after the relationship ended. I was with a guy I knew throughout high school. We started dating when I began college. At the time, I didn't think it was a red flag, but he would go days without talking to me (my last two exes did the same to me. It's not important to this, but I wanted to mention it). I didn't think anything of it because I just thought he was really busy with work and helping his parents.

It wasn't until I found out the truth through someone I knew that he was still seeing the ex he was with before me behind my back. He told me before we started dating that she stopped talking to him and saw her with another guy sometime after they stopped talking. But what really happened was that he was still seeing her while we were dating, and she didn't know about it until she saw him texting me. I was, unknowingly, the "other woman" in the situation. I wasn't really upset when I found out because I was the one who initiated the breakup, and I found out long after the relationship ended. I've been single for over two years now. The two relationships I was in after that one wasn't that great. At this moment, I don't know if I want to be in another relationship because all of my relationships were bad (during my first relationship, I found out my ex only dated me out of pity and he almost left me for another girl who was already in a relationship). After four failed relationships in a row, I'm not sure if I want to pursue another relationship. For now, I'm just going to remain single and focus on finding a better job than the one I currently have.

But the main thing I want to talk about is how Vivziepop seems to diminish the seriousness of cheating and invalidate those who've been cheated on. As someone whose been cheated on during their second relationship (I also found out that my second ex was physically abusive towards another ex, but he wasn't like that to me) and almost left for someone else during my first relationship, it hurts seeing a content creator try to push that narrative of how cheating is not a big deal, especially if it happens in a same sex/Queer relationship. But if it's a straight relationship where the man is the one that cheats, the woman in the relationship is somehow at fault.

I follow this person on Tiktok who makes videos about if certain celebrities are bad people, and they've stated that cheating should be a form of emotional abuse. And in all honesty, I have to agree. What cheating causes to the person that's being cheating on is devastating. I don't know why there are people out there who cheat on their partners. And I don't know why cheating even exists in the first place. All it does is make the person that's being cheated on gain trust issues, and in worse cases, even traumatizes that person.

I would be shocked if Helluva Boss goes beyond a third season.

I'm sorry for what you've gone through Anon, you deserve better than that, hope you'll heal in due time.

The 'cheating isn't that of a big deal' is a complete utter lie, cause, like you said, the person who got cheated on would develop trust issues and in my personal opinion, would also think that there is something wrong with them that causes their significant other to cheat in the first place, in short, think it's their fault oppose to their partner, the one who cheated in the first place.

And if a parent cheated on his wife/husband with someone else, you'd think ( the stans ) people would have the common sense to understand how that would eff'ed up ( if the parents have ) a child's self worth, question their existence, heartbroken to see their parent ( who got cheated ) in a devastated state, and would also blame themselves for what happened even if other people told them that it's not.

Which is why I'm ticked off that the narrative wanted to exonerate Stolas of all his actions that they would go so far as to use mouthpieces, instead of, y'know? Get him to understand that he's in the wrong? That cheating is, and will never be okay?

Sure he has his reaons as to why he cheated in the first place, that being Stella abuses him. I get it, she's cruel to him, this isn't to excuse the abuse she put him through, but he could've just file a divorce instead of prolonging the 'relationship' for Octavia ( even though he has no problems shaking the bed with Blitzo, despite still being a married man at that time...and somehow he doesn't even think about how that could effect his daughter ). He's a king/prince, he is above the hierarchy, he has more power over Stella whether it be by status or magical abilities, given there is no consequences of him divorcing her ( aside from getting Octavia upset ), it made no sense to me as to why it took Blitzo to get him to wanting a divorce, but I could chalk it up to him being a delusional man in his fantasies, cause he thinks that shaking the bed is equal to that of starting a good relationship.

( Aside from cheating, Stolas did other crappy things like using his so called 'childhood friend' Blitzó as a screw toy, and don't even get me started on how he treats the other imps that isn't his 'beloved'. But the narrative is never gonna make him learn anything or get him to become better, so my expectations from the show is low as heck. )

That short Sinsmas, that sinner woman who got upset that her ex-husband 'probably' cheated on her with a man, was treated like a bad guy even though, y'know? Prior to that, Mayberry wanted IMP to kill Martha, cause her own ex-husband cheated on her with that woman, and Mayberry was not treated in the wrong by the narrative. Which reeks of hypocrisy, cause regardless of whoever the guilty is cheating on his partner with, it's still, by the end of the day, wrong.

Let's just face it, the show is that desperate of not wanting their fav to become better, which is the reason why the woman said 'probably', cause her and the gay couple is suppose to be a parallel of Stella and Stolitz.

Too bad that there's no flashback behind the sinner's past like the show did with Mayberry, and the worst of it all, is that the sinner's children don't even seem to have any feelings about their mother's death. We know crap about how she died, nor what kind of man her ex-husband is, she's just villanized because she's upset for getting cheated on.

This show's writing is a helluva mess.

[keelt9]

Chapter 10

Masterlist

Dinner went amazing. Mr. Rotherham it’s only scary on the surface as you talked with him you can notice how much he loved his girls, as the fact he would do anything for them. Joe can even say he’s a soft man with a cotton heart.

Monet is making what he does after they pick up all the plates, sitting in front of the back door barking to Y/N; he needs to pee.

“We need a moment.” Y/N mentions taking a plastic bag and her jacket, it’s starting to fall a lighter snowfall. 

Mr. Rotherham notices how Joe eyes follow his daughter, making him smirk when Joe keeps cleaning the table over and over again in the same spot, just for seeing her.

“You know boy, at that rate you would leave a hole in the wood.” Joe lifts his eyes to find Mr. Rotherham with a small smirk. 

Joe nods ready to walk away but Mr. Rotherham stops him.

“She’s amazing, right?” Joe turns around seeing the old man observing his daughter with his hands at his back. 

“Excuse me?” Mr. Rotherham giggles at the silly question of Joe. 

He clears his throat after hearing the other girls laughing in the kitchen, he’s free to speak.

“I’ll take all the blame.” Joe walks where Mr. Rotherham is, yes, he can see Y/N and Monet walking around in the snow. “Her trust issues are because of me…”

Joe titles his head. “I used to work traveling one side to the other along with Nora and Savannah's father. By the time he and his wife knew they were expecting Savannah; he understood what he had to do, stop and be with his family.” 

Mr. Rotherham remembers that last business trip full of nostalgia but excitement for the life his best friend is about to begin. 

“A couple of years later my lovely wife announced to me we were expecting a baby too.” The huge smile on his wife was all he was supposed to need to stop. “But I was reluctant to leave my life and my dream job and she wrongly agreed to that.”

Joe sees the regret in the expression of Mr. Rotherham. “My wife was amazing, she dealt with all by herself, never reprimanding anything, I got to be in the labor of Y/N and I’m horrified to say it was the last time I was on time.”

Mr. Rotherham scoffs sadly. “I lost count of the missing festival, games, parties, plays of school. I only released the damage I caused to Y/N when Nora’s parents died.”

Joe knows just the merely necessary about the girl's parents and never has dared to ask more, he feels it’s so private. 

“My wife called me on a hot day of June, with a flattering and broken voice. My best friend was dead, leaving behind two little girls, don’t ask me how the hell I arrived home but when I did I found the most cold blood scene.” Mr. Rotherham takes a tissue from his pocket, whipping his eyes.

“The face of Y/N along what she told me as soon as I arrived, <Dad you didn’t need to come, we can fix this> I broke in a trillion pieces, my only girl didn't count that I go.” 

“She loves you Mr. Rotherham.” Are these the right words? Joe didn’t know he just wanted to give the man some kind of relief.

Mr. Rotherham smiles. “The day we buried them I made a single promise to both of them, the mistakes I've been repeating for years and years won’t happen again, I’ll protect and love those girls like my life depends on it.” 

Savannah perks through the kitchen door. “Dad, coffee?”

“Sure darling, thanks.” 

She smiles. “Joe?”

Joe nods, he felt wrong leaving the old man like this. “Yeah, sure.”

Mr. Rotherham giggles seeing Y/N head backwards keep walking around the backyard. 

“All I’m trying to say to Joe is…” Mr. Rotherham thinks his words carefully. “What I see in her eyes is pure and honest, she just cautions.” 

Joe laughs as the distinctly screams of Y/N. “Come on boy! I’m freezing!”

Monet barks at her with his legs stretched to the front. “Ok, I won't see you.” She turns around  covering her eyes. “Happy?” 

Monet barks at her, turning around ready for his needs. 

“She's a tough girl with a chicken heart.” Joe giggles. “If I ask you something you won’t consider me as an asshole?”

“Please Mr. Rotherham… I bet if I dare to think that, you’re three girls will kick me.” The old man laughs, clearing his throat. 

“Take care of my girl, could you?” When Joe faces the man his teary eyes are full of pride but confidence. 

“Mr. Rotherham, your daughter is the most precious girl in the world to me.”

He nods, patting his shoulder with anything else to add. “Now, I’ll go to help her or those two will be repping, he, her hair and she, his dots.”

Any reply had time because Mr. Rotherham opened the crystal door saying something to Y/N unable to comprehend; Y/N who rolled her eyes laughing giving the old man the plastic bag.

When she lifted her eyes, found Joe with the door open. 

“Such a kid.” She said entering as Joe takes her cold hands and puts them between his to warm up. 

“Such a kids.” She laughs trying to pull her hands but he puts it in his pockets, smiling softly at her.

What Mr. Rotherham sees in Y/N is the same he sees in his wife's eyes all the time the life allows him to be with her. 

Love.

Two days later, with t-shirts customized all prepared for going to the regionals with Nora; besides being such an important game, everyone knew it’s Nora's chance to close that scholarship in Georgia.

Nora fakes calm in front of everyone, until they arrive at the field, she stops in the door gripping  her bag. 

“No. I… I… I can’t, what if…” Nora starts to get pale as Savannah runs out of words seeing her sister nervous. 

“Hey darling.” Mr. Rotherham grabs her kid by the shoulders, making Nora see his eyes. “You got this. We’re so proud of you. I am so proud of you.”

Nora breaths in slowly. “And I bet those two up there couldn’t be prouder of what you have done.” 

It’s an unsaid rule but the topic of the girl's parents only came out when the girls decided or when they needed it. 

Nora's eyes turn full of tears at Savannah, Y/N with watery eyes tingle her arms around her.

“Now, if for an over natural reason you can’t make it, we always find ways to get through, don't we?” Mr. Rotherham smiles at her.

“I’m scared.” Nora’s bottom lips tremble. “Dad, I’m scared.”

Mr. Rotherham hugs her softly. “It’s ok, it's scary sometimes but, who is the girl that pulls her sisters on a dark night of Christmas to sleep in the portico waiting for Santa Clause?”

Nora giggles as the other girls do, letting tears slip. “I love you darling, and I know you got this.” 

Nora cries for a while hidden in Mr. Rotherham's shoulder, when she finally calms down, she splits wiping her tears. 

“Where is your mother when I need the most proper words?” Mr. Rotherham makes the girls giggle. “What is she always saying in these moments?”

Y/N tilt her head. “What about a massive hug?”

“That’s the words.” Savannah said, pulling Y/N with open arms to Nora and their dad, in what Mrs. Rotherham would call a massive hug.

That comfort is the last thing Nora needs  to calm down as a smile appears on her face.

“Joe!” She screams, cuts and runs under the hug. 

All turn around seeing Joe actually there in the most comfortable clothes and huge smile before a happy Nora hugs him tight. 

“You came!” Nora said, jumping as he held her hands. 

“I wouldn’t miss you crashing your rivals.” Nora giggles as Joe waves his hands to the Rotherham family at the back. “Go, I don’t want you to be late to your own game.”

Nora nods, running to her family, grabbing her bag and running inside of the building.

Joe approaches the family greeting them before they head inside too, just he and Y/N remain behind. 

“Are you ok?” Y/N asked, with the loss of the Chiefs all hopes lost yesterday afternoon. 

The Bengals are out of the playoffs one more year.

Joe sighs. “I just feel I didn’t have enough time.” Y/N smiled with pressed lips as she saw Joe's hands in his pockets. 

Unexpectedly she put her hands inside of his pocket and tingled their fingers. “You had a hell of seasons.” Y/N smiles. “Is it fair to say I'm holding the hand of the QB of the season?”

Joe laughs head down. “I think it is.” 

Ahead of them Mr. Rotherhan and Savannah turn around their heads seeing Joe laugh full blushed as Y/N sees him with heart eyes.

“I’m not his favorite boy, huh?” Savannah laughs at the joke of his father.

“Being fair dad, any of us is their favorite person.” She smiles. “No when that guy is near.”

Joe has developed a sensor, he can feel cameras shooting at him, probably few photos are already on the internet but he for unusual reason feels under control.

Y/N has noticed too and starts to feel worried about him, she’s aware of the feelings of Joe related to be the main attention, so she feels the need to do something.

“It’s ok you can go, believe me for Nora this is more than enough.” She leans to whisper it to him.

Joe breathes in loudly. “I’m disturbed.” Her eyes stuck to his face alarm. “Why don't I have one of those?”

Joe points to the home made t-shirts she made in one night, all with a cartoon draw of Nora jumping and hitting the ball in the air, at the back, her number 29. 

“What?” Y/N scoffs in disbelief. 

“Yeah, I should have one, I mean, yeah go team!” Joe sees how people point to Savannah’s shirt, who's giving the last show of love to her sister before going out to the field. “I have my favorites.”

“Favorites?” Y/N tilts his head. 

Joe lay back putting his cap backwards. “You’re my very, very, very number one girl.” Joe says that looking right to her eyes. “And that kid, I grew fond of that kid.”

She curses low after seeing Joe wink at her after dumping those words.

Y/N turns her face clearing her throat making Joe raise his eyebrow. “What?”

“That cap backwards is making you look dazzling.” Joe cough, damn it, she’s good.

He opened and closed his mouth multiple times, unable to believe the only coherent words that came to his mind is…Nothing, nothing came to his mind.

“Well, I bring all we could need and don't spill anything.” Mr. Rotherham appears with bags of candies, popcorn, chips and bottles of water. “Are you blushing?”

He asked, seeing Joe red on his face turning his eyes wide open.

“What?” The man hasn’t to ask another question by the way Y/N hides her face, faking to search for something under her seat. 

“Close and done.” Savannah said. “She’s ready.” Coming up with hands on her back pockets as the crowd started to take their seats. “Hey, Nora is right, here are your favorites.”

Savannah points to the peach gummies that Joe has in his hands.

The whole game was nuts, seeing Nora in a more controlled and serious situation is unbelievable. The first quarter they couldn’t keep their rhythm causing the distance to increase and her teammates went to the half, head down scratching their heads. The last quarter, whatever they talked in the locker room, made them come out with heads up high and concentrated eyes; slowly they got closer and closer, Nora kept focus all the game just stealing glances to her family that keeps screaming and cheering her all the time.

In the last minutes the difference is 3 points, Nora makes the right calls and moves, her team moves around like they actually can predict what follows in every hit; with a cardiac play her team goes up just for 1 point.

The crowd went crazy with shouts and claps for the team. Savannah jumps when the score is lights with the victory, and her sister was hidden in hugs for her teammates and crew, she hugs their dad as Mr. Rotherham high five with Joe and Y/N after they hug too. 

Nora searches in the crowd for her family and goes running, letting her sisters and dad practically squeeze her.

“Joe.” Savannah said, looking at him at the back. “There is always space for one more.” 

Mr. Rotherham opens her left arm for Joe joins too, he takes a glance to Y/N who tenderly nods and opens her right arm, Joe feels moved as he joins in the hug too.

After the game the recruits of Georgia found Nora and Savannah, they praised her talent and maturity finally saying the words both girls expected.

“It would be a pleasure to have you in Georgia.” Nora jumps, taking the letter before trying to rip Savahns neck with a jumpy hug.

After she tries to calm down she splits and shakes their hands. “Sure, yeah, I love that.”

In the background Y/N is moving side to side, her father's arm leaving a sore shoulder but full of pride seeing what the two girls have done.

With the proper goodbye the sisters walk where the rest of them are waiting for them. 

“So?” Joe asks, seeing the envelope in her hands. 

Nora jumps, raising the envelope. “I’M GOING TO GEORGIA!” 

Joe laughs seeing her so happy and proud of what she’s done, he couldn't avoid teasing her once after all the time she did to him. 

“Ohio just missed the next big star.” Y/N pushed his arm softly, laughing.

Nora, full of emotion nods, hugging the envelope. “You think that?” Joe is taken by surprise with her question, and her hopeful eyes.

Still he grabs her shoulder. “Without a question.” 

All smile at them and how he got a tear slid down her face she feels so complet now.

And Joe needs to learn something, always have an answer for the girls. 

But Joe has a peculiar surprise for Nora.

In the middle of the lunch at Savannah's house to celebrate such amazing news, a knock on the door distracts them, causing Monet to stand barking to the main door.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Mr. Rotherham asked to clean the corner of his mouth ready to stand and open the door.

“No, you?” Nora answers seeing her sister.

Joe holds back the laughter and stands. “It’s mine, sorry, I hope you don’t bother if I invite someone.” 

All the eyes turn to him with speechless faces and more questions as he walks to the entrance, with Monet’s paws soft tipping on the floor.

“Do you know so…?” The question of Savannah to Y/N left incomplete when the loud scream of Nora makes everyone jump looking to the entrance of the garden.

“YOU’RE MUST BE KIDDING WITH ME!” Nora runs to where it’s Joe and his friend.

Nothing more nothing less than Tee Higgins, her favorite player. 

Nora stands in front of them moving her hands unsure of what she must say or do.

“Have we ever seen her speechless?” Mr. Rotherham asked to serve another plate, making the girls laugh.

“Nora, such a pleasure to meet you, congrats on your admission.” Nora smiles. “Do you mind if I give you a hug?”

“OMG! NO!” Nora received a soft hug from one of the idols questioning herself if she could be happier.

Y/N stands where Joe is observing all in the corner and smiles at him. “Nice touch.” 

Joe laughs seeing how that’s what Nora needs for pulling Tee to the table and starts to talk without a break. 

“Totally deserved.” Joe sees Tee laughing about the wisecrack of Nora as her sister hides her face between her hands and Mr. Rothermha laughs hard. 

Late at night after everyone starts to say goodbye, Y/N goes with Tee and Joe to the entrance, Nora is tired and barely can stand from the couch where she waves her hand with Monet lay in her stomach.

“Thank you for coming.” Y/N said giving the classic food containers to Joe plus one for Tee.

“I wouldn't miss the chance to congratulate the next to be champion and the girl who has Burrow smiling like a fool to his phone.” Joe coughs as Tee goodbye to Y/N.

“I…I tried…” Tee bumps his fist with Y/N with a red face.

“I’ll wait in the car.” Tee walks away laughing seeing his friend so astonished and tongue tied.

Joe scratches his neck. “I tried not to smile that…frecuantly.”

Y/N lift her in her tiptoes and kiss Joe…Not the kiss you’re expecting, relax. 

She kisses the corner of his lips in an act of bravery, feeling so tickled and overwhelmed by Joe.

“Goodnight Joe.” She waves her hand as get inside the house.

Slipping on the floor with the curious eyes of her family on her. “We lost her.” Her dad said, her head between her legs at the level of her chest.

Two sniffs around her head is the only thing Monet could do before being pulled by his neck and crashing against her chest, big eyes on him asking for a swap to the people in front of them.

At the other side Joe is frozen with a food container in his hands and a smirk on his face.

“Do you need help to walk again?” Tee said while waiting, the door of the car opened. “Or to think again?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Little things getting closer…

[lol-jackles]

I was pursuing your “Destiel” tag (thank you for posting it for that anon, btw, and bringing it back to my attention), and came across this statement from you:

“As a result, douchy Jensen + going off script = other actors trying to cope. My favorite was 2016 because that was when my girlfriend leaned close to the screen and said, "Jared, blink twice if you're being held against your will". Since then Jared had figured out how to handle these ~unscripted~ moments, but Misha hasn't.”

What was the moment in particular at 2016 JIB that made your girlfriend say that? Or what was Jensen going at that one? Wasn’t Gen at that one, too?

Also, what would you say Jared’s strategy has been in dealing with Jensen (when drunk) on stage at JIB? And why does Jensen seem “meaner” to Jared at JIB than at CE or AHBL cons? Which is closer to thier actual dynamic, do you think?

And I just have to add, it was pretty amusing seeing Misha momentarily (sadly not longer) regret his life choices at, was it 2019 JIB, where he pointed out the Destiel shirt and Jensen yelled about “where is it real?” Do you think Jensen was actually annoyed in this panel? I say yes, but my brother says no.

Jensen seems to keep it together more at JIBs post pandemic, but I was at JIB 13, and he gave off a huge air of just being over the whole thing by his solo Sunday panel. And he and Rich were essentially running out the clock by being loud idiots (my ears still hurt from being near a speaker).

They all claim to love JIB, but they also all seem pretty over it come Sunday.

Sorry that got long. Would love to see your response to any parts.

This was the first time I briefly talked about the infamous Jib con. Back in 2016 I used to think their co/dependent friendship was doomed at the 10-year mark because when one isn’t adjusting to the changing time, then the idolatries friendship can’t last more than 10 years at best.  I listed a few examples (X) from a feminist blog about women ending their female friendships, a woman ending her friendship with a male friend (X) Oliver Broudy’s story of ending his 10-year friendship with a college friend (X).  These friendships ended because one of them was stuck and making more and more demands on the unstuck friend.  We know happened after season 10 wrapped up (X) (X).

Anyways, what got my girlfriend's attention was Jared looking like a tug of war rope between Gen and Jensen and the boys. Regular corporate SPN cons in the U.S are already a male-dominated atmosphere bordering on frat boy shenanigans. At least there are corporate handlers and security to help keep the actors in line, plus alcohol are banned for actors. Jib cons are fan-run with no handlers and alcohol are allowed, and usually there are no actresses because the cost of the extra Jensen/Misha and Jared/Misha panels means some actors are going to get cut out and it’s usually the actresses. Without female colleagues around, the men really rile each other up at Jib cons, it’s part of their bonding and one-upmanship rituals. I think why Gen rarely participated in SPN cons is because she didn't want to be around all that dude energy. But 2016 was different because I think she blamed herself for leaving the 2015 British con early and is still traumatize that she nearly lost Jared few days later, so Gen agreed to let Jared drag bring her to Jib con. Men don’t like wives/girlfriends homing in on their bro times and Jensen was noticeable irritated that Jared’s wife was there and during the closing ceremony Jensen used air quotations marks while talking about Gen’s marriage to Jared who had his arms wrapped around her. He looked peeved at Jensen and then then laughed it off because what else could he do on stage?

(Side note: it’s not easy for men to find male friends and keeping them.  I hated the movie I love you, man because it was too familiar, and Paterson made me uneasy because Adam Driver's character has no male friends and he's more than okay with that because he has a wife.)

Jensen seems "meaner" not just to Jared but to every actor there, especially Misha. At these fan-run conventions, there are no "scripts" (guidelines actually) to follow. Most actors were still going by the guidelines from corporate-run conventions when they're on stage, but not Jensen because it's part of his upmanship as a way to both bond and dominate others. It's a Ryan Seacrest and Brian Dunkleman type situation. Maybe Jensen learned this trick from Ryan who used to be his roommate. Misha is not a natural improviser, his guest appearance on Whose Line Is it Anyways shows that, so he's the least apt at handling Jensen's off script moments. Half the time Jensen wasn't actually drunk but acts like it to avoid the inevitable asinine Destiel-loaded questions from the hellers in the audience.

Jared's strategy was about the same at pre-2016 JIB cons and CE cons because he's pretty apt at smoothing things over between Jensen and the fans. At the infamous 2013 New Jersey con a self-claiming bisexual girl tried to ask Jensen a loaded Destiel question and he snapped at her with, “don’t ruin it for everybody” and Jared immediately calmed Jensen down and salvaged the rest of the experience for sane fans.

Stuff like this is closer to their real life dynamic as the Giver and the Taker. If you read the "codependency tag", Jared the Giver cleans up the messes the Taker make. Givers think they're helping but they're actually enabling and don't improve things. Jensen's reputation took a slight hit, and it took a few years for the New Jersey con to be memory-holed. Apparently Jensen didn't learn from this and 3 years later mocked a girl wearing a "Destiel is real" shirt at the 2019 JIB. Misha told Jensen to not “fight with fans” and Jared was gesturing to a fan in the front row as if saying don’t look at me look at him. That may answer your question, Jared stopped trying to calm Jensen down and instead focus on heading off fans who gets too snippy at Jensen, like at a DC con few years back where a girl was trying to look cool but came off sounding hostile towards Jensen, so Jared left the stage and hugged the stuffings out of the girl, deflating her hostile-sounding voice.

I don't think I've seen Jensen's solo panel at JIB13, but he's usually looks like he's watching the clock during his Jared-less panels so that's nothing new. It's been the case for many years and a common complaint by fans, it's why CE stopped having solo J panels early on because Jensen needs a scene partner. It goes back to why Jensen works better as a scene-stealing supporting actor instead of a leading man. How Jensen made Dean Winchester have memorable moments was by putting his focus on the other person.  By using this method, Jensen can stop worrying about how he’s going to say his lines and speak intuitively, this helps make Dean appear truthful to the audience.  It may be why Jensen doesn’t read scripts ahead of time.   Jensen doesn’t go into a scene looking to do a scene, instead he goes in looking to be open and give over to how the other person (in this case, Jared playing Sam) makes him feel.  This method worked great for Jensen when his character has Sam to focus on, and Jensen has Jared to react to.  It’s why Dean’s dying moments with Sam in the barn works so well in the series’ finale.

.

You probably heard of the saying, “acting is reacting”.

A demon’s acting philosophy in The Good Place: “Demons have to learn that Acting Is Reacting.  And Reacting Is Pre-acting. But Pre-acting? Well, that’s just being.”  

While “acting is reacting” gets mocked in the acting community because it’s a trap alot of actors fall into by adjusting their truthful inner life to their assumptions about the text.  Good acting is adjusting the text to your authentic emotion which is the result of the other person.  This where Jensen’s good acting comes from and it’s become his comfort zone and made him a multimillionaire by his mid 30s.  He’s in what my acting coach calls “the truthful contact”, it’s where actors are taught the first stage of authentic acting.  The next stage is “crafting”.  When you’re working solo without a screen partner, your skill at crafting becomes vital.  Crafting means anywhere from ability to endow meaning to objects so they have emotional meaning is important, or effectively get across justifications and point of views.