#and we're only getting to the worst parts! i'm still at what happened two weeks ago when things were relatively okay and i had hope 😃

[born-to-lose]

Found an actual diary to write in earlier and I already filled 18 pages but I'm still not feeling better :/

[cutebat]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

What's Next?

Warning(s): Yandere themes, past neglect, a lot of swearing, stealing, violence, mentions of bribery

(This is where now you can pick your own choices in this series, so this isn't technically a chapter)

~~~~~

Two weeks went by quickly, thank God.

You arrived at school as how you could have if it wasn't for Bruce ruining your fucking break by making you spend time with the rest of the family.

You were forced to watch movies that made no sense due to its plot or whatever and went shopping, only for them to buy you things that you didn't like that all. Like, who still buys and wears things that could cause a whole closet clutter.

The worst part of all this is that Damian has to walk you everywhere around the school, except for using the restroom. Even worse is that Bruce changed your entire schedule to you having teachers who love to fuck you over. Because of this, you can't skip anymore!

Anyway, the day quickly went by, and now it was break time. As you two walked into the cafeteria, you spot your two basically only normal and only friends, Noelle and Sasha.

"(name)! There you are...-"

Noelle calls out to you before her smile slowly flattered when she spots Damian beside you.

"What is he doing here?"

She whispers to you that made you roll your eyes.

This made Damian narrow his eyes down at the two of them.

"Do you have a problem with me being here?"

He asks with a snarl that made your friends cringe a bit.

"(name)..."

Sasha mutters out to you that made you sigh.

"No, no... Damian, they're cool, don't worry."

You reassure him that luckily made him calm down.

"Oh, alright then. Come now, sister. We need to find a table."

Damian tells you which made you feel annoyed.

"Oh, uh, actually. I need to get my water bottle. I left it in my locker, so..."

You try to make an excuse to get out of here.

"No worries, I can go get it for you."

Damian said as he turns around.

"Wait, you don't know my combination!"

You call out of realization.

"I'll figure it out."

He calls back as he leaves the cafeteria.

You and your friends stayed where you were in silence.

"Isn't this great?"

You speak up out of sarcastically as you sit down with them.

"(name), what are you doing with that guy?"

Sasha asks as she takes a bite of her pudding.

"Being stuck by his side for the whole day and the entire Christmas break?"

"No, why are you hanging out with him?"

"Oh, god, don't be a bitch over this. I know he's such a pain in the ass, but I can tolerate him, okay?"

"No, we're not jealous or anything, he's actually fucking insane, (name)!"

Noelle tells you

"Insane like how?"

You ask as you cross your arms.

"Sent many guys to the infirmary, punched a guy in the throat earlier, nearly set a teacher's car on fire."

Noelle said as she started to list down all the things that Damian did.

"Wait, so all of this happened in one day?"

You ask with your eyes wide a little.

"Yeah."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I have two classes and a passing period with him."

At that moment, a guy with a neck cast walked up to your table.

"Were you guys just talking to Damian?"

He asks the three of you.

"Yeah."

Sasha mutters out.

"I hate him. He literally punched me in the throat during gym and didn't even apologize to me or get expelled. I'm pretty sure he paid off the headmaster or something."

He said with his eyes furrowed that meant he was pissed.

"See?"

Noelle mutters to you.

"Hold on, why did he exactly punch you for?"

You ask out of curiosity.

"Cause I said that you were pretty hot and told him that he was a wimp about it or something."

He said as he rubs his cast.

"Still sound normal to you?"

Noelle asks you.

"Oh, come on. That's like one of the things that's like the less worse things."

You tell her.

"'Less worse'?! I was passed out for like half an hour!"

The guy said in a defensive tone.

"Dude, that sounds like a you problem."

You tell him with a bored expression.

"Oh... Shit hurts."

Sasha said with a chuckle.

"Fuck you, guys... Stupid bitches..."

The guy mutters out as he walks away from you and your friends.

"Anyway, what can I do about all of this?"

You ask as you place your chin on the palm of your hand.

"Honestly, I don't know. You're pretty much on your own, (name)."

Noelle said as she takes a sip of her honey milk.

"What? You guys aren't going to help me?"

"We want to, but we don't know how."

"Please? Like actually, please. I have no idea what to do and I don't even know how to get away from all this."

You tell your friends in a slight pleading tone.

Noelle and Sasha gave each other a glance before they stare back at you.

"Okay, fine. As much as we don't know either, we'll try whatever we can, okay?"

Sasha said as she sets her pudding cup down.

"What are you exactly going to do now, (name)?"

Noelle asks in a soft tone with a soft gaze on her face

~~~~~

Go to your next class (Coming soon)

Skip until the end of the day with your friends (Coming soon)

Go home with your friends

•

•

•

Taglist: @somebodyrandom-613 @delias-stuff @endism @ragdol-666 @snowy-violet @sleepydhanie @missikkj @k1ttys-w0rld @box-of-kinderjoy @thetreefairypersonalblog @thelibraryofdeez @animegoddess15 @lilyalone @seraph101 @lain3iwakura @tacodeemon @whiterabbitxxx @yuyuzi-ling @lilithquillete @amisupposedtomakesenserightnow @una1002289 @spacetravelr @luckyangelballoon @illytian @ghostdoodlen @imaginarydreams @flyingpansaurus @wrenbirde @kimzzz18 @ohnoivefallen @ferakillia @f1lover4ever @asahi20789 @livingforloves @moonieper @rosecentury @waitingforanarchicaddiction @missmannequin @mischiefmanaged124 @hanselate @doli09 @chocolatemoose26 @enjisthings @stitchtheseconde @purple-lemon-8 @milliu @blublock404 @kimzzz18 @jsprien213 @bluemidnightmelodies @enter-sandmann @tdickensstuff4 @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @starsdotalk @sumikosasaki @erikasurfer @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @0lshadyl0

(If you want to be in the taglist, let me know!)

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.66)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

Tags: Blood, Guns, violence, near death experiences, everyone lives nobody dies...but someone does die this chapter, horror, non-lethal injury, talks of death and dying, a bit of body horror, Trans! tae, Tae is briefly dead named in this, implied/referenced intimate partner violence, flashbacks, brief suicidality.

W/c: 8.3k

A/N: ahhhhhh <3 we're finally ready for this part of the story <3 i wonder what your guys reactions will be, i'm really glad i decided to split this chapter into two peices! it's much cleaner this way. don't be 🥲 too mad at me.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

(Four years prior, Hoseok)

Today is the day that Hoseok will meet his future pack, he just doesn’t know it yet.

It always feels like a bit of betrayal but the worst and best days of your life often come close together. Maybe just for contrast. A bit of good in the bad. A slice of cake in a feast of raw meat.

This starts as just another bad day in a long stretch of shitty days. The kind of days were anxiety bubbles up and how afraid you are is all you can think about. Taking one breath and then another like just staying alive means you're guaranteed to get better.

The only place to go from rock bottom is up, and hoseok's sneakers are firmly on the concrete, standing outside of the record store in the rain with no place to go.

Hoseok has been afraid for a long time. He can't really remember even if he thinks hard, the last morning he woke up not afraid.

What hoseok really needs is a day off, but he really can't fucking afford it. He can't afford anything- certainly not a one-bedroom apartment on his own. If he's really really lucky maybe he'll be able to find a closet room somewhere that will cost almost his whole paycheck. Because after today-

After today, Jung Hoseok will be homeless, packless, and alone. His pack dropped the news on him last night…or well ex-pack.

He doesn’t expect that he’ll be moving into the pack's house on this rainy day, he doesn't expect that by the end of the week, he won't be worrying about where his next meal will come from because Jin will be there with it ready. Jimin sometimes too.

He won't be worrying about where he'll sleep because the bed in their spare room that smells like tae tae tae will be his. He'll roll around in it when the door is closed, shy about it because Hoseok has never liked other alpha's scents so much before. And when he comes home and Jungkook has made a nest in it, it will feel like a bit of an impossible silver lining, a bit too much- to have an omega making him a nest, making something special just for him

It takes three weeks for Namjoon to make him a house key for himself. After he gets left outside in a very similar storm to this. The doctor will touch his cheek, thumbing at the dimples that they share. how special is it that each smile gets cradled like a crescent moon? the heavens have left imprints on both of their skin. Freckles for stars and dimples for moon's.

"I don't want you to get sick pup."

"People don't get sick from wet heads anymore hyung."

"They don't. But I want to keep you dry and comfortable in my den. i know you still want to look for apartments but...what if you didn't?"

But neither the weather nor Hoseok knows to prepare for good news. Right now the heavens open up and release its deluge, thick rain the way that only happens at the start of summer. Worms and other wriggly things crawl their way out of their holes to find a good spot to die next to Hoseok's shoes. Worn fancy sneakers that his pack-omega had gotten him a few months ago for their anniversary. They're the nicest thing he's ever owned.

His ex-pack omega.

It's hard to rewire your brain, especially for alpha's. Hoseok is a lone wolf. He hasn't been without a pack in so long, it feels weird to not have someone to call, someone he needs to trail after and cling to. He checks his phone but he doesn't have a single notification from them.

He doesn't have a single notification from anyone.

Hoseok is glad he doesn't feel his instincts as keenly as other alphas do. Otherwise, he might be inclined to gnash his teeth at the people who pass by him on their way to work, umbrellas almost bumping him, perceiving even closeness as a threat. So vulnerable without a pack (lone alphas are always the first to starve in winter).

Hoseok shivers even though its summer, he's soaked to the bone after a few minutes.

He has a key to the record store. He could go inside. Granted- he should be inside already. Opening up shop, making coffee, and letting the place warm up. But standing out in the rain feels too much like penance.

Hoseok likes the rain. The smell of it. The way it makes the whole world ache and go still. He feels every drop on his dark hair, soaking through his thin hoodie. It's cleansing almost, letting the rain soak him through.

(The end of relationships is always hard, let alone the end of abusive relationships, they’re downright terrible).

Hoseok keeps replaying their words in his head, with every slosh of a nearby car, every honk of a taxi. The stoplight red and green bleeding onto the wet concrete. Yellow flashing in contrast with hoseok's dark memories.

“You’re welcome to stay here until the lease runs out, but the four of us need to move back home. You understand Hobi don’t you? We’re just omega’s- we’re just girls- and we think this could be a clean break for all of us. We just don't want to lead you on any longer.”

The worst part is that Hobi had sort of known, had sort of already realized what was happening. he’d seen it in their looks; distant and despondent. Their touches that did not linger longer than necessary, cheeks turned as he comes in for a kiss. The phone calls hushed in the other room that cut off abruptly when he entered.

The lease on their apartment ends today. The place has already been professionally deep cleaned and Hoseok's things are packed in his car in plastic bins. He has 6 of them to his name.

He doesn’t have a place to go yet, he might just sneak into the back room at the record store and sleep there until he figures something out. Hoseok drove to work early because he didn't have another place to go.

This version of Hoseok is not the one you know, this version of Hobi is 23 and hopeless, can’t think about moving back in with his parents a city away, with nothing but a rusted-out Corolla that barely gets him to work let alone through the 200-mile trip. It will die on him in about 6 months and Namjoon will be thankful that Hoseok no longer is driving around in a deathtrap.

He hadn’t even gotten this job by himself, his pack omega- his ex-girlfriend had gotten him this job almost 4 months ago after his last one didn’t pan out. Temporary work for temporary people.

Nothing feels like his. Not his body and certainly not this job.

Hoseok hasn’t smoked in months, but something that feels an awful lot like self-disgust worms under his skin and he can’t resist. Not today of all days. Smoking is something that he doesn’t indulge in often, and hasn’t indulged in since… becoming an alpha to someone. But he guesses it doesn’t matter now without anyone to complain that they don’t like the smell.

The cigarette mixes with the smell of petrichor and Hoseok’s own acidic scent. The smell of a terrified alpha draws him more than a few looks but he pays them no mind. He's thankful for his soaking face, at least the rain keeps out the tears. Cool and soothing against his face.

Hoseok just wants- Hoseok just wants to call them. To talk to someone.

Ending relationships is always like this. You want to keep being good, keep being what they want, but that’s impossible. You can’t act or behave right and dupe someone into loving you. Sometimes the love just isn’t there. (A smaller shyer voice says it was never love at all, you can't possess love, only be given it and Hoseok feels like a cast aside possession. Love and abuse cannot coexist).

Hoseok should have known. He keeps replaying the moments in his head. He’d seen them exchanging knowing looks when they thought he wasn’t looking.He thought he was just being paranoid, until yesterday morning when they’d taken him aside.

“You knew this had to end one day Hoseok" "You knew one day we'd move on." "As much as we appreciate what you’ve done for us, we think it’s time for us to move on.”

“What do you mean? I thought we were leaving next week, you really left me with only a day to find a place to go?”

“We’re sorry Hoseok, your last rut was just too much to deal with. We think it's best if we just stay on our own. It's a clean break this way.”

"Wait, please- I love you."

"We know. We're sorry."

Hoseok is too much for anyone to deal with. He doesn’t call his friends (he hasn’t met up with any of them or returned their texts in months thanks to several pointed words from his pack omega). He doesn’t go inside yet because he deserves the rain. He sits out front of the record store, smoking a cigarette that will probably end up killing him down the line, and thinks Good.

He tells himself the irritation in his eyes is just because of the cigarette smoke blowing in his face, even though he knows it's not. He's not even inhaling right because his breaths come all hitched and pathetic. Anyone would be sad if their relationship of several years had ended. Anyone would be devastated.

Hoseok checks his phone again. Nothing.

Most people on the crowded street ignore him. Though the thick throng of people going about their business, probably going to work at their 9 to 5 jobs that pay enough to afford apartments and packmates. Hoseok is the one soul that stands stationary.

Until one, someone a few feet back stops, tipping their face through their hood to look at him. The only other person without an umbrella.

Hoseok knows his face and his name. It’s just Min Yoongi- his coworker and sort of friend who's coming in for his shift. Hoseok doesn't love Yoongi yet but they're sort of friends already. They might be better friends if Hoseok could get over his admiration and jealousy.

Yoongi has this way of quietly taking care of the people around him. He picks up Hoseok's jacket when it slides off the hook at work, asks him if he wants coffee and even pays for it when he goes to the coffee shop next door. He compliments Hoseok's music tastes when it's his turn to play something, he gives Hoseok the aux frequently in a way that feels a little bit like flirting.

The only two good things about Hoseok's job are the music and Min Yoongi.

He even laughs at Hoseok's shitty jokes when they're stacking new inventory saying cryptic things like "they can't be worse than my omega's jokes."

That's why Hoseok's jealous. Yoongi gets packmates, five of them who make him lunch even when he's only got a four-hour shift. that often linger outside to walk him home or pick him up in their shiney not new not old cars.

(Yoongi's packmates certainly have better things to do than send Yoongi to work with a second packed lunch. "Jin-hyung caught a glimpse of you through the doorway, the only thing that he hates more than Namjoon's snoring is skinny Alpha's.")

Min Yoongi has that look that people do when they're well-loved by packmates. Hair ruffled and neck dotted with bruises that might as well be mating bites for a beta. Beta's don't mate, but these ones certainly keep him close. He wears their scents like a shield. Sometimes so thick that Hoseok can't even smell any of his chocolate scent.

Right now, staring at Yoongi a few paces into the street, all Hoseok can smell is the rain.

When Hoseok had been introduced to him it had felt strange just by virtue of Yoongi's sub gender. A beta? Working somewhere so normal? Weren’t beta's supposed to be like- financial advisors or assistants to the president or something? Betas are supposed to have more important jobs than pushing vinyl and bumping Hoseok's shoulder playfully.

(Hoseok hasn’t seen it yet, the way that the owner hands over little white baggies to people who come in looking hungry for a high that cigarettes or alcohol can’t fix. Hoseok hasn’t yet realized that the record store isn't just a record store. This is just one front business of many that the family has organized across this city and the country for distribution of some of his most precious inventory). Yoongi has worked her for the last year, takes calls in the back for the family. The owner only bows to him when Hoseok's not around.

They only hired hoseok for tax purposes. Having three employees looks less suspicious than just two.

The beta looks concerned, and Hoseok knows he can’t hide the fact that he’s been crying as the beta steps up and pushes Hoseok back under the awning. Out of the rain and into the warmth of the doorway. This kind of movement would make any alpha snap, but not Hoseok. Hoseok just tucks his chin down and starts to cry.

“Oh Hoseok.” Hobi sniffles, and wipes his runny nose on his sleeve. Yoongi's hand curls against his throat, chocolate scent spiking to soothe. “You’re soaking wet."

Yoongi grabs his wrist and Hoseok almost keens at the gentle touch. Whole body shaking, shoulders curling in Yoongi's direction. Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line and then tugs him inside.

~-~

(Now, You)

You hold your breath. Still peering around the corner, watching and waiting for the man to spot you.

But he doesn't, after a breath where his soft footsteps echo, you wait, but nothing happens. You peak back around the corner.

You absorb and catalog the details as fast as you can; the black ski mask, covered by one of those traditional Korean masks, wooden with red lacquer. This one is a little different than the one that Jimin had; not twisted with thick eyebrows in a snarl. This one is white with red splotches on the cheeks, like a ghost sent down from above to rob you of your humanity.

The bulletproof vest stops at the collarbones. The gun itself is a black generic model. The long end is extra bulbous with something that might be an attached silencer. His hands covered in black nitrile gloves, leathery at first glance. There is a knife at his waist along with a barrage of other small things; rope and a knife, duct tape and handcuffs. His heavy boots look steel toed and reinforced.

The man (because it is a man you realize; tall, maybe taller than Namjoon) trains his gun at the landing on the top of the stairs. Pointing it in the direction of Hobi, Tae, and Jin’s hushed voices.

Hobi giggles and it sounds so bright. Echoing off the walls and filling the house with his musical laughter.

There is a phone cord tangled in your hands, long and white. You grip it tight.

This man might be silent but you’re quieter as you slide your bare feet across the smooth floors. Your strides are so quiet. You take one step and then another until you're behind the man, mirroring him.

You remember when Yoongi redid the floors, it was one of the few things that he did right away; before the pack came to live here (to love here). It took him weeks and weeks of sanding before he got them to his liking. Days more of brown dark stain that colored his hands ruddy until the soft matte finish stuck. Every pass with the belt sander and dirty rag a movement of love, a meditation for it.

Yoongi made every inch of this house with the same loving intent; to make it a home for all of you. a place to be safe and nurse your wounds and hearts. You won’t let it become a grave. You won’t let this person stay here and ruin it.

Most people get it wrong; In order to kill it is not a matter of elegance or effort. There is no such thing as a perfect kill either. Emotionless and analytic isn't enough and being justified only gets you halfway. There is no way to do it cleanly. People die just as they live, messy and hopeful and dirty.

Murder isn't a matter or wanting or wishing, It’s a matter of rage.

It’s always been this way. Rage has been chewing a hole through you from the moment that you pulled the trigger with Geumjae. From the moment you said ‘I do’. Rage that these violent things have been done to you, that they continue to happen, that you can’t just get away from all the hurt and trauma.

Rage has eaten you clean through to the bone. Rage has made you skinny and starving, rage has made you timid and fragile. But now you're the hungry one. Right now, only three words run through your head;

How dare she.

How dare she send this man into your house. How dare she point a gun at the upstairs, in the general direction of your nest and your packmates. The altar at which you so desperately cling to, for sweet dreams and sweeter worship (There is no deity above the god of love, not even death. Death cannot take the love from your chest, someone dying does not make you stop loving them).

How dare she even think about hurting the people you love.

There is no courage, no bravery, no thought in your head about how stupid it might be as you step closer behind the man. You are not a trained assassin. You’re just an omega.

The adrenaline rush is an old friend, a thrall both intoxicating and unnerving. Your heart beats loud in your ears. You grip the phone cord in your hands and take a quiet steadying breath. He doesn't see you, he doesn't hear you, he doesn't know that you're behind him.

Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

The assassin’s foot ascends the bottom step. You don’t let him get to the second before you’re moving, hurtling forward. Footsteps no longer light. Your hands go over the man’s shoulders. The cord no more than a white flash across his vision before you draw it tight across his neck.

The pain and panic are instant as you’re suddenly tethered to a six-foot-four assassin and struggling to stay on your feet as he stumbles back. You’re pulled off your feet and down the stairs, but you keep it as tight as you can and you don’t let go. Fighting to keep your makeshift garrote tight as he scrambles to get his fingers around where it digs into his skin. Spluttering loud.

The hard wire digs, cutting easily through plastic and then your skin as he tries to pull you off. You don’t let go until he backs you into the entryway wall and slams you against it with a dizzying clang of bone and body hitting something solid. Your head narrowly avoids one of the hooks that the pack hangs their coats on. An inch to the left and he'd have impaled your skull on it. An inch to the left and you'd be dead.

A single inch.

His head slams into your face, and you feel something in your nose pop, flooding your mouth with blood so thick you choke.

He slams you against the wall once, twice, and then a third time until your grip goes slack and slippery with blood. It knocks the breath out of you, and he finally throws you off. You both fall to the ground like stones. Both of you gasp and struggle for breath. At least one of your ribs it broken, but because of the adrenaline you can't even feel it.

When the man lifts his black gloves to his throat, they come away glossy with blood.

(It’s crazy how you never notice the change from the day to day, one day you are begging for a reason to hold on, a reason to live, and the next you’re fighting tooth and nail to keep going. Just about gnawing your own arm off to get out. To survive and live to see another day. Another sunrise.)

By that time the air has returned to your lungs it’s enough for you to scream. “Jin! Jin! There’s someone in the house there’s-”

You try and inhale through your nose and blood makes you choke. You push at the floor with your hands, struggling to stand, fingers slippery and tacky with your blood.

The man tries to scramble up the stairs but you latch onto his legs and make him drop. Doing everything in your power to keep him from going up to them, to your packmates. Hugging his ankle to your chest to slow him down (the same way you’ve hugged Namjoon’s arm and Yoongi’s, the way you held Hobi in the nest on the couch just a few shattered days ago).

The man turns the gun on you, pointing it to your head, you flinch, waiting for the shot-

and open them as He heaves a frustrated roar before he wheels away and turns, aiming at the top of the stairs instead of right in your face.

You could have died right then. could have and should have, but you didn’t. Your brain is too messy with adrenaline right now to make sense of it.

Why didn't he shoot?

The gun goes off, a bullet whizzing by Jin’s head. His face, scared, on the stairs flashes ever briefly. Ducking for cover just in time. The doorframe explodes in a cacophony of dark wood splitters. The doorknob sparks and bursts into a million pieces with another shot. metal clanking against the ceiling, the walls, down the stairs.

One second, you’re holding onto his heavy leather boot, and the next it’s colliding with your face and you’re out like a light.

Getting hit in your face is always such a disorientating experience. You’d never gotten used to it, even with Geumjae. Granted it’s hard to get used to the stomach-churning low vision feeling of weightlessness, like vertigo only worse.

"Hobi! don't- jesus fucking christ-"

You’re not quite sure what happens next only that you can’t see for a moment after the boot hits your face, and you take big breaths through your mouth. Blood, you taste blood. And then your vision comes back. Black spots and all and there’s Hobi’s face in front of you. No assassin, just him, helping you up from the floor. You're not on the steps anymore but at the bottom of them.

“The kitchen, the kitchen," Blood rushes over your bottom lip. Hoseok wipes it away, inhaling a jagged breath. "He’s-”

He pushes at your shoulders. “The car- get to the car.” It feels impossible. This can be happening in your house. Are you about to have a shoot-out in the street? On your quiet cul-de-sac? But then, in the corner of your vision dark movement.

You tug Hobi’s head down the second that the gun goes off- probably saving his life, definitely saving it as the bullet tears through the banister and ends in a hollow thump in the wall. he may not have shot you but he has no quams shooting at Jin and Hobi. The bullets hit the wall- Maybe 6 inches above your bent heads. Too close, close enough that Hobi trembles in your hold. And he rips something- a piece of the doorway, out of his arm with a wince before he covers your body with his own.

The volley of gunshots are so loud, so vicious as they blow things apart, tearing holes through Yoongi’s coat, the doorway, the banister, and the narrow stairway rungs. Pieces of wood hit your curled forms. Hobi shoves your head down when you try to look.

There is wetness, hot, something hot on your hands, your neck, you know it’s blood before you look. You think it’s from you until the Gunsmoke clears and you realize- fingers skimming across hoseok's forehead, a gash above his eyebrow.

A bullet graze by his hairline thats bleeding profusely. head wounds always bleed a ridiculous amount.

There are more bullets behind you but it’s just Jin returning fire.

Jin’s got Tae behind him. Her face ashy and pink from the shower and panic, her mid-length dark hair such a tangle, cowering behind his back. Jin's gun is so much louder without the silencer. Did he bring one upstairs? Or did he get it from Jimin’s stash?

Jin nearly drags Tae to the three of you, and she clings to you. Your hand finds her face. Fingers are red and bloody smudging against her cheek, blink and you're back there a million moments in the past; dotting red blush across her cheeks with a brush- your fingers- kissing it into place with your lips- painting a line of maroon across her eyelids to bring out the lighter flecks in her eyes- Watching her twirl in a red dress. Pressing your red lips against hers in a quiet dark moment in the library room. With her in Hobi's red car- Everything red.

If it starts with red, maybe it's fitting that it ends in red too.

Jin doesn’t give you time to reminisce. Pushing her shoulder down hard. His bare chest splattered with splinters from the door. Covered in wood fragments that stick to his black sweatpants and damp feet. Shouting, “All of you get down!”

You follow your pack omega’s words. Hobi and Tae With their damn alpha instincts blanket you as Jin fires again. The shots are so much louder in the small space. Another shot, another thunder strike. tae grips your wrist tight, your hands.

When you look down, they look mutilated. you can see bone in one place, deep gashes across the centre of your palms.

Your ears ring and you can't make sense of anything over the noise. Jin returns every bang with a boom of his own, bright flashes lighting up the dark staircase. Casing after casing tinkling down to the floor, rolling across the floorboards

But then, for a second- the gunfire goes quiet.

The house creeks and the three of you hold your breath. Jin's still half-concealed. The air heavy and clouded with gunsmoke and the smell of blood.

Hobi tentatively gets onto his knees and then stands when he doesn't immediately get shot at. You make a small noise in your throat, the loudest that you dare, but he’s looking after Jin, standing in the darkness, hackles raising his angry scent of burning sugar acrid in your nose. His hand slides out of yours, your blood on his palms.

And then you hear the rush of boots, echoing in the living room, near your nest- you’d never unmade it after you and Hobi fucked there. You'd been too busy taking care of Jimin. Hoseok bears his teeth.

Hobi turns, sliding out of your hands quicker than you can grab him. Quicker than you can tell him that he’s being dumb, that he’s being suicidal.

“Not my girlfriend! You asshole!”

The world is a dizzying cacophony of gunpowder, pain, bullets, and shouting. Jin yells Hoseok’s name. But the alpha heads after the assassin regardless of your cries. Jin narrowly keeps him from running headlong into no mans land. the open area by the door that would leave Hoseok a sitting duck.

Tae’s standing up on unsteady legs as you all spill out of the stairs into the narrow hall. Out from her hiding place cowering behind the banister. Your attention isn’t on her it’s on Hobi. Neither you nor Jin are looking at her. You’re running after him on shaky legs. Jin holds you both back, trying to corrall you. The air is cloudy with Gunsmoke, hazy and heavy. Her eyes are wide and pretty like dark marbles as she watches Hobi.

They’re just as pretty when the gun presses to the back of her head.

Everyone turns and goes still. The man has Tae in his arms, hand in her hair making her neck arch. The gun pressed to her jaw. Finger on the trigger.

Her body trembles and she doesn’t turn, frozen still in fear a shallow whine building in her throat.Jin has the gun trained on the man faster than you can make to step in Tae’s direction. But it’s no use.

He must have gone around, run through the livingroom through your pantry. A similar path that you took to surprise him. He must know the floor plan of the house, must have studied it to prevent situations like this. You have no upper hand here with tae in his arms.

Tae’s mouth is buttony and parted, but it settles into a resigned line.

Jin’s never been a good enough shot- not for one like this, even barely 10 feet away. He might hit Tae. Shaky, Jin takes his finger off the trigger and stoops down to put the gun on the floor. His other hand is up, already surrendering when the man jerks Tae's head back by her hair. Rougher than he needs to be.

“Don’t shoot her, please don’t shoot- please.”

The man juts his chin at the gun on the floor. “Kick it away now, be a good omega.” Jin grits his teeth but does as he says.

The man’s voice is rough as gravel. Dignified, but with no obvious accent. Not the quiet cadence that you’ve come to expect from the family. Neither posh nor lowbrow. Something in between. Flat and monotone. You're sure that you've never heard his voice before.

“I have to admit, your file said you’d be resistant, but it said nothing about you being dumb as fuck and a poor shot to boot.”

Jin licks his lips and bares his teeth, “Put that gun back in my hand and then say it again.” The masked man cocks his head to the side and then shrugs as if Jin's fury doesn't mean anything to him.

But He’s bleeding, it trails down to the floor so the words can't be genuine. It's a small wound, a graze on his right thigh. Red bright and hot that drips in onto the floor from his pant leg.

His hand tightens in Tae’s hair. “Line up against the wall. Now. Or I’ll blow her brains out in front of you."

You move first, eyes trained on Tae. But he snaps, eyes unreadable behind that mask, “No- not you. I’m not here to kill you.”

He tosses something to Jin and he catches it. Handcuffs that jingle and clink. Your foot hits an errant bullet with a similar tinkle. “Handcuff Jin to the stairs Hoseok.”

Your names, he knows your names. Your mind races over every detail, every moment trying to piece together a way to get out of this. a way to save them.

“Why are you doing this?” Hobi’s trembling, shaking. “Did Jimin-”

“Jiminie did nothing.” The man croons dragging the barrel of the gun down Tae’s cheek leaving a dark smudge in its wake. It's red on her face, the barrel must still be hot, your blood crusty around her lips.

“Honestly though, you should know he was a shit assassin. Truly piss poor even by industry standards. They always threw him the easiest kills."

The three of you are quiet, if he was hoping to elicit a reaction or more of a fight You don’t give him the satisfaction. Although jin grits his teeth, gnashing anger and an omega's feral instinct to protect their pups.

You step forward hands open, barely two steps from Tae. If you can just get to her maybe you can-

“Please- please don’t kill them."

He cocks his head at you, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Oh no, you misunderstand me I’m not going to do any of it.”

He taps Tae’s head once again with the gun and Tae starts to truly struggle. You tremble in fury and horror as you realize what he means with a sickening lurch in your stomach.

“This is how it’s going to work Y/n” You still at the sound of your name. “Taehyung here is going to shoot Jin and Hoseok. And then once we’re sure they’re good and dead, I’ll kill her.” He tosses you another pair of handcuffs, these ones are meant for you.

You take one step closer; Jin's gun is between your feet now. But you couldn't pick it up or else he'd shoot Tae. Time, you just need a minute to figure out what to do. How to get them out of this.

Yourself now, that's a different story. If you where in Tae's position you'd turn your face to the side and bite the mans hand.

“And what about me then? If they're all dead what’s to stop me from fighting?” he seems to consider it only briefly, the gun in his hand tilting so that you can see the dark oval where the bullet will come out, where it will rocket through Tae's skull and take all the little worlds she dreams of, all her poems and words and make them nothing.

“You think you're so precious? I’ll just kill you.” he says it like it's nothing. like you're nothing. He nods to the others, appealing to them and not you. “What do you want? All four of you to die? Or just three? What will hurt Namjoon the least? Do you think Yoongi will survive loosing his mate? What do you think Jinnie?”

You think of Yoongi's mating mark, the spot on his hip where your small curved semi-circles sit. You think of them turning black- a brand of a dead mate. You think of Hobi's eyes opening and never closing again. You think of Jungkook nesting without Jin and you. Of Namjoon holding out his hand and having no one to take it without Jin there.

You won't let any of this happen.

The others shoot each other unsure glances but you shake your head. you shake your head because earlier on the step, the man didn't take the easy shot, the easy kill.

If he really had orders to kill you, he would have done it then.

you step forward and shake your head. “I don’t believe you. I know your orders are to take me. That’s what all of this is about isn’t it?” The man doesn’t drop his weapon. Just presses it tighter to Tae’s jaw.

“Handcuff Jin now Hobi. Or else I’ll-”

You see the darkness settle in Jin’s eyes and before you know it he's turning to you, eyes flat. Endless in their darkness, the way they might if-

You don't let yourself consider it. You won't let it get to that point.

“Pup-”

You guess it does make sense, having you kill each other as opposed to the assassin doing the dirty work and implicating Moonbyul. If you really are on that ‘no kill list’ like Yoongi said at the hospital, having you take out each other is the only logical course of action. Once Tae kills Jin and Hobi, she'll be free game. This is the only way retribution won’t fall back on her. This is so similar to what she tried and failed to do with Jimin and Jin. This is a second attempt.

Only-

Only this time, you have a bargaining chip.

You step forward, in front of Hobi and Jin, blocking them from his line of sight. Barely a pace in front of Tae, but from the way he tightens his grip on her you know that you can go no further.

“You can take me; I’ll go with you. Willingly.”

Jin makes a noise in his throat and tries to move, but dares not when the man tightens his grip on Tae’s hair hard enough to rip a bit of it out.

“That’s what she wants, isn’t it? If you just let them live I’ll go with you.”

The man is silent for a second. Hobi trembles and so does Jin. For a second, you truly think that he’s going to take the bait.

But the mask is directed towards the floor, then back up at you. “Those aren’t my orders.” His finger is on the trigger so close to Tae’s head. “Now cuff him, I don’t want Jinnie getting any ideas.”

Hobi’s hands are shaking as he unwillingly shackles Jin to the steps as slowly as he can. He's buying time too. Every second and every heartbeat is precious. Both ends loop around a single rung and click closed. The rung itself is a little loose from a bullet that blew it apart near the bottom, it’s got to be the loosest one. Hobi turns, and you see the pre-meditation in his eyes; he chose that one so that Jin could still get free if he tried hard enough.

Everyone is trying. Everyone is defiant. The quirk of Jin's eyes as he settles, staring with rage at the man, his voice a quiet croon when he says what might very well be the last words he ever speaks.

“Tae you can close your eyes honey, it’s okay.”

"No I can't" She struggles harder against his hold, but it only gets her part of her hair pulled out with how rough the man jerks her, tears clouding her vision. "I can't- don't- please-"

Tae's soul has always been butterfly soft and flower tender. She's not made for this. She's not made for murder or pain or anything that lacks softness. She's never been a killer; Jimin was always that side of their coin. Saint and sinner.

Your body goes cold and for a second, you think you just might pass out, especially when Hoseok grips your wrist. One final squeeze in what can only be goodbye before he steps away and in front of jin. Hair puffed up. Jin is lowering his eyes and no no no.

No.

Tae is staring at you, eyes wide and scared, but you watch in total powerlessness as her eyebrows lower. You see the moment Tae thinks it. Eyes meeting yours, lips mouthing something that you can’t read. Maybe I’m sorry no.

I love you. Sorry.

The truth is that Jimin drilled this with her years ago before she left for college and he couldn’t follow. When Jimin first realized that for the first time in their lives she’d be without him as a constant protector. Delicate delicate Tae with her delicate pink soul. So vulnerable to the world and all its wickedness.

Tae didn't confront him about it until the nightmares were waking him up regularly. They were simple nightmares back then; images of Tae hurt and mugged. Tae beaten and left in an alleyway. Tae stalked through the night. Simple, but enough to keep him awake. Enough to torture him in his wakon hours as well as the nighttime.

If Jimin saw her now he'd pull the heavens down and demand something truly awful in exchange. He'd take one of the knives from the kitchen and gut him from belly button to addams apple. He'd eviscerate him- and Namjoon might help.

Hut there is no one here to do any of that, there is only Tae in the man's hold.

“What are you so scared of?” She’d asked one morning, trailing endless patterns on his chest in an effort to soothe him back to sleep.

“Something happening to you while I’m not there, mostly.”

“Would it make you feel better? If you taught me the basics?”

Jimin's pause is telling, more telling are his eyes, hopeful when he looks up at Tae. “Yes, it would.”

It’s been years and years since Jimin Tae have bothered to drill any self-defense sequences it at all. Since he stopped asking her to refresh the basics with him once a year just to make sure. Jimin never thought that Tae would have to use those skills. Like with most things, you just sort of hope you don't have to fight.

But Tae knows you did fight. It's written all over your bloody face and your bloody hands, tightened to fists by your side. If you fought tooth and nail to save them she should fight too.

Tae has written fight scenes like this before. If she survives the press of the gun to the back of her head, she’s gonna have one hell of a personal experience to pull from for her book. The content will be endless.

She seems to swell in the space, alpha shoulders settling back. Her mouth is moving, mouthing words her eyes on you. Just in case this is the last thing she ever does.

I’m sorry, I love you.

“Be a good boy and pick up the gun Tae.” Tae bends down, syrupy slow. Intentional with her every movement. One heartbeat. Another. Tae's fingers are maybe an inch from the gun when everything goes haywire.

When she's about halfway bent she uses her momentum to hurl her body back, slamming her head into the gun and then into the man’s face. Cracking the mask and from the sound of it, the man’s nose. Tae's almost knocks herself out with the force of her own head colliding with the man’s face.

She turns, she’s not finished, not even close. She might be a woman but she’s an alpha too. Alphas always always fight to protect their pack. She turns and swings.

And drives her elbow as hard as she can between the alpha’s legs.

Hobi can’t stop his flinch. That has to hurt.

The assassin’s gun goes flying, skittering across the dark floor and under the bookcase and Hobi ends up lunging for it. You go after it too but you end up holding Tae instead, crumpling to the floor without anything to hold her up. She’s holding the back of her head, eyes watering.

The traditional mask lyes in pieces around you, shatered by the force of tae's headbut. The man clutches his nose, features still covered by the ski mast. Growling out- "Bitch- fucking bitch! I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill all of you-"

Jin struggles yanking his cuffed hands down as hard as he can- in another minute he might get loose, but not quick enough as Hobi finds the gun and raises it. The bullet hits the molding beside your pantry, missing the man by inches as he dives away to safety. A lucky shot by any standard, let alone for a beginner. Hobi shoots off after him. knocking into the wall before he's up and chasing it.

“Are you okay, Tae, Tae- look up at me.” Tae is clutching the back of her head. Blinking rabidly. That fucking hurt even if it was worth it.

“I’m fine just-” She leans over your legs and vomits, retching loud and horrible. Concussion- she must have given herself a concussion. Namjoon told you months ago how to read the signs of them shortly after the first time Jungkook ever had a seizure in front of you.

You hold her shoulders, watching Jin try and break himself free, yanking his wrists hard enough that it has to hurt. Moving to try and help him.

And then Hobi makes a noise in the other room, a pained ghasp, A thump and then-

Tae is already up and running, stumbling into the wall. You glance at Jin. "Go- just go" Jin grinds out. But Tae has longer legs than you do even concussed.

By the kitchen, Hobi slips on a fallen tangerine. (You remember then, Yoongi clearing the table with a brush of his hands for Jimin, tossing a whole bowl of them onto the floor. Where they've stayed since then) they're fighting, the man must have managed to disarm Hobi somehow because the gun sits under one of the chairs. Both of them are fighting just beside the dining room table. Part of it splintered and broken where someone broke it.

They're grappling on the floor now. Pushing against each other trying to gain the upper hand. you've watched the alpha's wrestle before- small disputes to settle and reaffirm the hierarchy, but you've never seen hobi move like this. You watch the man grasp at his waist reaching for the knife. His hands so slick with his own blood that it clatters to the floor. Hobi may not be trained but he's a fighter too. Gnashing his teeth and growling. Reaching up into the shallow gash at the mans throat and digging in his fingers.

And then he’s got Hobi on the ground and his hands around your alpha's throat. Tae tries to get him off but he backhands her, sending her sprawling to the ground and clutching her cheek. Too dizzy to stand. Big hands that squeeze and squeeze and squeeze Hobi's narrow throat. Spit at the corner of his lips turning frothy as hoseok tries to breathe and can't.

“I didn’t come this far to get killed by a bunch of family rejects; 11 years and 1458 kills later and I will not die. Just give up already- I didn’t come this far to-”

Hobi’s face is turning purple, hands scrabbling, pushing against his face trying to get him off unsuccessfully. Dying there on the floor. Hobi is going to die right there if you don't do anything.

Jin is shouting from the other room and there is a frying pan in the kitchen. On the countertop that you snatch on your way past, winding up for it before you swing it with all your might at the man's head and-

At the end of the day, it’s hard to say exactly what kills him. Whether it's you or Tae who wields the killing blow. It’s more of a group effort between you and her.

Tae has read countless books that described love as some gentle force, but this love has not made her gentle. Tae cannot sit there on the floor and watch Hobi die. She'd do anything to protect him and the pack. She’d kill people like Minnie did, would lie just as Jin had, would have sacrificed anything- even herself just like Yoongi.

Love had always been giving in Tae's mind, and she would give countless sins and untold violence, to have this not be the last day with you and the pack.

The gun is just sitting there under the chair. tae hardly has to lean over to get it. (If she makes it out of this alive, she swears to himself that she'll finally start taking those kickboxing classes that Jungkook teaches.) Tae lifts the gun at the same moment that your hand descends with the frying pan.

Tae turns, points, aims, and fires. She doesn’t even think twice about it. The trigger goes down as easily as breathing.

Getting shot in the throat definitely distracts him enough, definitely makes him let go of Hobi, clutching at his own throat instead of his. blood rushing over his hand and down onto hobi's face. So much that it almost splashes.

And then the frying pan hits his head with a hollow final thud.

There is a placid terror in things like this, a quiet as things go and come. The thumping, the sobbing breaths you let out, the descent of your hand, beating out your terror on the body below, a vessel for all of your fear.

The handle of the frying pan is thick and heavy in your hands. You bring it down on the man’s head, the curved edge of the cast iron connects with the plate of his skull with a hollow thud. One second, he's clutching at his blown-apart throat, and the next he goes limp, blood and brain matter splatters loud and heavy along the floor. Falling on top of Hobi like a lead weight.

Hobi's brown eyes are bloodshot and red in his mouth, heaving one big breath that sends the room spinning. Sends vertigo into his veins and panic-running adrenaline. You lift your arms up again and hit him, descending again and again.

His body is still, so still. His chest gives one open shudder and then goes truly quiet. Frozen in time. You are covered in blood, in your mouth, on your hair, on the ceiling. More and more splatters as your hand goes up and then down in an endless loop.

Dark cotton soaks, matted with blood and brain matter, blurry from your tears. A bit of it hits your face, wet and stinky. People never tell you how horrible it smells when people die.

You don’t stop hitting the man, even when it's clear he's dead. Even when you glare down at him through the tears in your eyes and see half a face staring up at you. An eyeball rolls across the floor.

There are arms around you pulling you off of him eventually. Dry warm arms, big and heavenly. One wrist dangles with a pair of handcuffs as Jin yanks you back from the man. The body.

“Pup- It’s done, pup- he's gone- Stop.”

There is blood all over you. On your face, on your hands, around the frying pan. Tae too, sitting just beside you. Half of her body splattered. Hobi's soaked with it and still struggling to breathe. But both of them, the three of them are alive.

“It’s over pup.” Jin sounds like he might be crying. Tae definitely is.

Hobi puts his head between his knees, gasping for every breath but still breathing. Tae's got him in his lap. Holding on to him as he splutters. face so soaked with blood he can't open his eyes without blinking rapidly.

It’s anything but over you think as you let go of the handle of the frying pan.

It clatters to the ground with a bloody and final thunk.

~-~

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~-~

Notes:

if the beginning of the chapter feels weird/different in terms of narration that is because it was mostly written 3+ years ago and my writing style has changed alot! kinda crazy! hopefully people will just attribute it to hoseok's internal monologue. it might be meandering but i kept reminding myself that this is hoseok at his lowest you know?

One thing i want you guys to realize is that the m/c may not be smart, but holy fuck can she take a beating and still get up.

Gun shoot outs are uniquely hard to write because like, just bang and it's done right? idk why part of this writing just felt so tedious usually i love writing stuff like this :(

hobi calls the m/c his girlfriend 🥺 did you guys notice???? he's such a cute pup charecter.

i have more notes for this chapter BUT i can't share them until the next one is out because it involves hobi's secret.

i hope you guys see like- how good the m/c actually is at the crime and thinking on her feet shit- i think that this chapter above all others shows her street smarts. she knows to keep the guy talking and distracted- i think it compliments her similarities to jimin and jin like. the trio of them are very capable people you know? vs hobi who just headlong rushes the assassin and fucks shit up. i'm not saying it's his fault- he does the best that he can in this chapter.

I'm trying to pull from my actual knowledge of how guns work but fun fact, silencers are still fucking loud, like still so loud that you need ear protection. and even blank bullets can still cause serious injury at close range.

I'm again at the stage where i can't tell if the gun shooting scene is clunky and too predictable or if it's actually as creepy as i've made it out to be.

This is one of those situations- the bargaining for each others lives, that i've actually never had to handle. it's actually pretty unusual for me to write about things that i haven't experienced in some way shape or form.

i've only written a few scenes in my life that have made me wonder like "huh- i wonder if people might actually think that i've seen a dead body, been around a dead body, or killed someone before?" and ngl, the scene with the assassin dying is one that makes me wonder that... i promise i just have a scarily vivid imagination.

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART III

—old habits die hard

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who are obliviously in love.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 13.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). filthy smut. angst. cussing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: i know i made you guys wait a lot for this but i wanted it to be perfect and i was really busy but it's finally here now! thank you for the love on the first two parts, i love all of you. happy reading!!!

masterlist with next parts!

"Oh yes! I forgot about the most exciting part. It's your friend, Pedro Pascal."

You're not sure who it's exciting for, because it's certainly not you. Sure, Jon had no idea what had happened between you and Pedro, but you were hoping he did at the time. Because if he did, he wouldn't be gushing about how exciting it is that the two of you are going to collaborate.

You try to hide your dismay and muster up a smile as Jon continues to talk about how great Pedro is. You can't help but wonder how you're going to make it through this project without letting your personal issues with Pedro get in the way of your work and finally driving you into insanity. 

Regardless, you know you have to remain professional and focused. It's just a job.

"Does he know about me?" you hesitantly ask.

"Yeah, he's known for awhile." Jon replies, "We asked him not to mention anything, but I've gotta say I'm surprised he actually didn't."

"I've got to say I'm surprised too."

•••

For the next few weeks, the only thing on your mind was Pedro. You couldn't stop thinking about what he might have said or what he thought when he found out you were going to work together. This war between you and your brain was pretty stupid because you could just call him or send him a quick text.

Hey, guess what? We're finally going to work together! :)

Simple as that.

The problem was that you didn't want to be the one to bring it up first. You weren't the type to hold a grudge over trivial matters, but here you were, silently punishing him for what he did last month.

One of your last shows on the tour was in New York, and as usual, you invited most of your friends. Even though Pedro had been living in London for the last few months, you still sent him a text inviting him. He had taken a flight for other stuff, so it was safe to assume he would make the effort for this as well.

You: Hey! I know you're in London, but my show at MSG is next week, and everyone's coming. I would like for you to come too :)

Pedrito: Hi, my schedule here is pretty tight for next week. I'm sorry. Next time?

You: Bummer. Sure.

Despite your disappointment, you understood the situation perfectly. His work schedule has become quite hectic recently, as he has been traveling and shooting movies in various locations such as Hawaii, Boston, and now London. Your schedules no longer seemed to be in sync, and neither of you made an effort to rearrange your plans to fit the other. 

Those months he spent filming with Oscar in Hawaii were by far the worst. Mostly because they were having fun and you weren't part of it. To put it mildly, the FOMO nearly killed you. The group chat and his Instagram were filled with pictures of them surfing, hiking, and exploring the island while you were miles away alone.  

The night of the show arrived, and everything went smoothly as planned, leaving you with a feeling of relief and satisfaction. That later changed when, backstage, in the midst of winding down, Oscar approached you with a smile, "Too bad Pedro couldn't make it, he would've loved this outfit."

You smile as you look down at your own stage outfit, knowing he'd like it because of its purple color.

"Too bad he's in London," you reply back.

Oscar's face falls slightly as he responds, "London?"

You nod as you chug down the last of your water bottle.

"No, he got here days ago," he says, huffing a laugh. "I called him so we could ride together, but he never answered. I figured I would run into him here."

"Oh."

Oscar's expression is slightly puzzled, as if he's trying to connect the dots between the two statements. "Is everything okay between you guys?"

You wanted to lie so bad; say yes and play it cool. After all, that's what you two have been doing for the past nine months: playing pretend. But this whole exchange has caught you off guard, and you're not sure if you want to continue with the facade or finally be honest about the situation.

"I don't know anymore."

Your attention snapped back to the present.

For days, you tried to brush it off and convince yourself that it was no big deal, but deep down, you couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment and hurt. He had been there and chose not to go. Not even a call or text to explain or apologize. Nothing.

So, no. You weren't going to text him first, were you?

Manhattan Beach Studios, Los Angeles.

October 2018.

If somebody had told Pedro three years ago that he would be starring as a bounty-hunting badass in a signature Star Wars series, he would've laughed in their face. But here he was, about to start the table read for the first episode of The Mandalorian, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as he waited to see how his character would come to life on screen.

It was a pinch-me moment. He had come a long way since his early days as a struggling actor, and he was grateful for the opportunity to work with such talented people on a project that was sure to be groundbreaking. As he looked around the room at his fellow cast members and crew, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Until his eyes landed on you.

He then felt shame and guilt for how he handled things a month before. He knows he fucked up. You're sitting across from him, the heavy, discerning quality of your gaze sending shivers down his spine. It's as if you're peering right through him, past the gleaming politeness to the rough edges beneath. If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man.

Your expression says, "Wipe that smile off your face. There's nothing to be happy about."

He was convincing himself that he didn't exactly know what drove him not to tell you the truth about his availability. Except he did. His time away from you had allowed him to get you out of his system, and he didn't want to fall back down the maybe-I-have-feelings-for you rabbit hole again. So in true Pedro fashion, he avoided it.

He knew he'd be back in New York for your concert when you texted him. Yet he boldly lied. And it bit him in the ass.

He couldn't throw away all the progress the two of you had made, so he knew he had to make amends for his behavior before it was too late. He made a mental note to talk to you after the reading was over.

•••

The reading was over in what seemed like an eyeblink. You were so thrilled to be part of this, and even given everything that has happened between you two, you would be lying if you said you weren't happy you're doing this with him.

Though you weren't doing a particularly good job of displaying it. You barely talked to him when you got here, quickly exchanging hellos and moving on to something else.

You were settling into your trailer with your agent, going over some details, when you heard a knock. Your agent quickly rises to unlock the door as you continue to put some of your things in a drawer. When the door opens, you hear him before you see him. "Taylor, Taylor, Taylor!"

Taylor couldn't help but laugh at his antics, and you can't either. A smile formed on your lips as you closed the drawer before collecting yourself and remembering that you were really mad at him.

"Pedro, long time no see!" she says as they hug and exchange pleasantries.

Taylor looks my way. "I am going to get some of those snacks we saw earlier," she says, "I'll be back in a bit."

As she exits the trailer, you make your way to the door. Pedro is standing there, dressed in a black sweatshirt, olive green trousers, and white sneakers, which you can only describe as attractive.

Needless to say, he was making it difficult for you to hate him right now.

•••

Pedro's mind goes completely blank when he sees you; it's as if he has forgotten everything else around him and all he can focus on is you, making it hard for him to form coherent sentences.

"You cut your hair," he blurted.

"Yes."

"It looks very pretty; I like it."

"Is that why you came here?" you inquire, "to tell me my hair's pretty?"

"No, I came here to apologize," he replies back as he steps into the trailer and closes the door behind him. He watches you sit on the edge of the sofa that adorned the room, hands on each side of you, waiting for him to continue.

He takes a deep breath. "I know I messed up and hurt you. I just wanted to make things right, kid."

"Why?"

"Because you’re the last person in the world I want to upset. That would be, like, devastating."

"Hmm," you hum, a blank expression on your face, "you're not doing a very good job at it."

Pedro couldn't help but smirk at your jab, "Clearly. You looked like you were plotting my murder in there."

"Oh, I already know where I'm going to hide your body."

His laugh fills the room, and your face softens. He began walking towards the couch, and you both slumped back into it at the same time. "It's nothing really; I'm over it," you say, staring at the wall.

Pedro tilts his head to look at you, "When will you learn that you're so bad at lying that it's not worth even trying?"

You face him, your beautiful eyes catching him off guard. "This is the worst apology ever, by the way."

"I know, princesa," he says softly. "But I mean it. I'm sorry I didn't go, and I'm sorry it took me this long to apologize."

You slowly nod, your face displaying a hint of uncertainty. As if you're trying to figure out whether he's sincere or not, which he wishes you didn't have to even wonder about. "It's okay if you didn't want to go; I just wish you would've said that instead of lying and making me look like an idiot, P."

No, no, no. I wanted to go, but I'm a fucking coward.

Your words pierced him like a dagger, and the pang of guilt washed over him again. He's been drowning in it for the past few weeks, but to actually hear the disappointment in your voice is a completely different beast.

Before he could even muster up a response, you speak again, "But I forgive you."

Pedro's breathing slowed down as you placed a hand on his thigh, and he heard those words. He reciprocated the gesture and then put his hand over yours, gripping it softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Good," he says, "because now we can properly freak out about this," excitement overflowing through him as he couldn't keep it in anymore.

He needed to share this with you. When the creators of the show approached him, you were the first person that came to his mind. One of the things you've always wanted to be part of was Star Wars, so he knew you would be jealous to find out he was cast in this and couldn't wait to give you a hard time, just like Oscar did when he got the role of Poe.

That plan quickly fell apart when the creators revealed they were bringing you aboard, and even though it meant he couldn't torture you any longer, he was overjoyed you were going to be by his side in this.

“You must be ecstatic,” you tell him, your hands still connected, "this is a big deal."

"Yeah, who would've thought?"

"I did," you attempt to correct yourself, but it’s too late. Pedro has already saved the words for later in his mind. "I mean, we did! We all did. Your friends, I mean. We knew things were only going to get better for you. Even before I met you, I knew you were going to do great things. Sarah talked about it all the time, too, and we're pretty sure this is only the beginning."

He's stunned at the rambling explanation of your thoughts about his rising career. He looks at you with gratitude in his eyes, feeling fortunate to have supportive people like you in his life who believe in him.

The lack of hesitation in your voice did the opposite of what your words had done; it cooled down the hope that had lit up like a flame in his chest.

"Now, come on, let's find Taylor and those snacks," you tell him as you rise up from the couch and extend your hand to him, "I'm hungry, and we still have costume fittings," you add. He puts his hand in yours, restraining himself and letting you struggle to pull him up as you try your hardest to do so.

"You asshole!" you yell, tightening your grip on his hand, "Stop that and get up!"

He can't stop laughing as you finally manage to pull him up. "you need to work on your strength, baby," he says between chuckles.

You scoff and playfully hit him on the shoulder, "My strength is fine, thank you."

"Ow! Who's the asshole now?" he exclaims, rubbing his shoulder.

“And don't call me baby,” you tell him. "I forgave you, but that doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you."

"I don't think it works that way, baby."

"José Pedro!" you exclaim, clearly irritated.

"Sorry, old habits die hard."

The next two months were amazing, to say the least. It's as if all the two of you needed was to work together on a TV series to realize how much you needed to be together. Just like your on-screen characters, you two were tied to work together by a third thing, that thing being, of course, the child.

Speaking of the child, you were obsessed with it. You couldn't believe a green, Yoda-like animatronic puppet could win your heart in such a short period of time, but here you were. It was magical. Truth be told, everything about The Mandalorian was magical.

Every day you had to step on that immaculate set that's built and surrounded by volume, which creates an infinite sort of visual experience in terms of skies, planets, space, ships, and all kinds of things, was magical.

It just felt like you were stepping onto these highly sophisticated amusement park rides, with very little being left to the imagination because of how incredible the design work is from all the departments.

Another magical thing was seeing Pedro bring the character to life. His ability to convey so much depth and complexity to a character that is mostly hidden behind a mask is truly impressive. From crafting his "Mandalorian" walk and stance to his deep, jarring voice.

That voice.

That voice was made to torture you and send shivers down your spine. That voice made you forget all of your life's problems. Actually, that voice was made for one thing and one thing only, the bedroom.

"Oh my god, it doesn't sound like a bedroom voice!" he protested, as he highlighted lines in his script.

You were joining him and the creators in the recording booth for his voiceover session.

"It does! It's a sexy bedroom voice." you teased, making everyone laugh. "That's not very Disney of you, P." 

He gets closer to the mic and whispers, voice altered because of the modulator, "Bite me."

"See? It works perfectly."

•••

You were having as much fun as you could. Simply put, you two were menaces on set.

You could tell Jon, Dave, and the rest of the crew were patient with your antics, but it was clear that they were also entertained by your on-set dynamic. It's not everyday that you get to work with your best friend, and you two made it everyone's problem.

Although sometimes you have to admit you take it a little too far.

"Catch me if you can, Boba Fett wannabe!" you scream.

Pedro was chasing you through the set with a prop sword, trying to get you to stop teasing him about his costume. "You are one insult away from getting a taste of this sword!"

"Okay, tin can man!"

You were running away from him as fast as you could, hoping to find a place to hide before he caught up with you. You quickly hide behind one of the makeup trailers and peek out to see him come to a stop, catching his breath. He was wearing his Beskar getup, minus the helmet.

“Give up yet, old man?"

He laughs. "We're being extra cruel today, huh?"

Taking advantage of his momentary pause and facing away from where you were hiding, you slowly inch closer to him, trying not to make a sound. As you get within arm's reach, you draw one of your prop knives from your costume pocket and hold it to his back. Using your free hand to hold him steady, you lean in and whisper in his ear, "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold."

He turns his head slightly, and you can see the smirk on his face. "That's my line, thief."

Before you could pull away, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back toward him. He takes hold of you and tightens his grasp on your waist. "Let me go, P!"

You struggle to break free from his grasp, but he only holds you tighter. "I am going to squeeze you so hard you will fart," he chuckles.

You snort. "You have such a way with words."

As you try to wriggle out of his grasp, you accidentally elbow him in the face, causing him to release his hold on you and stumble into a piece of plywood that had been propped up.  

"Aw, fuck!" he cries out, clutching his nose.

"Holy shit, I'm sorry!" you rush to him, cupping his face. "Are you hurt?"

He removes his hand from his nose, revealing a cut and a trickle of blood. "It's alright, just a bloody nose," he says calmly.

You touch his nose gingerly, and he winces in pain. "Nevermind, I think it is broken."

•••

You begged Jon to let you ride to the hospital with them; after all, this was your fault. When you get there, the doctors rush to Pedro's side and begin examining him.

If you weren't preoccupied with being mortified over this, you'd laugh.

The scene before you is straight out of a sitcom, with Jon frantically explaining the situation to the doctors, Pedro in full costume with fake injuries and blood that you were pretty sure the doctors thought were real, and you standing there with an expression that screamed: Hey! It's me! I did this!

After a couple of minutes of clearing up that it was an accident and that the blood coming out of his ears was fake and not the cause of a brain hemorrhage, one of the doctors led us to a room to examine his nose.

"It's not broken," the doctor said, as she prepared to clean the wound. "He's just going to need a couple of stitches."

"Oh great, we still need to finish a scene, and they're waiting for us." Jon replies.

"This will take 15 minutes, tops," she says, grabbing a tray of medical supplies. “I will be fast.” 

"I'll call the guys," Jon tells you as he exits the room.

You nod in agreement and stand in a corner as you silently watch the doctor carefully clean, anesthetize and stitch up the wound. You feel relieved that it wasn't anything more serious. 

After she finishes, Pedro thanks her, and she nods with a smile. "You're going to need to take some analgesics for the pain. I'm gonna go grab my prescription pad. I'll be right back."

She exits the room, and you walk over to Pedro. He moves his head slightly, showing off his nose.

"How does it look?" he asks teasingly.

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment. "I can't believe I ruined your perfect nose."

"Who said it isn't perfect still?" he says it as if it were a challenge. His brow is arched, with the tiniest smirk hidden in one corner of his mouth.

"Don't start. I'm mortified."

"Tranquila, princesa. I said it was okay after you apologized 20 times on our way here," he reassures you. "Plus, now we have a funny story to tell during our press tour next year."

You sigh. "I guess you're right."

"You know," he says, "what hurts right now is that today is our last day of shooting. I can't believe it's been two months already. Time fucking flew."

Your heart sinks as you're once again reminded that this amazing experience is coming to an end. The day you've been dreading for weeks is finally here, and you're not ready to say goodbye. It's not like you already know you'll be back next year for the next season, but you're not ready to say goodbye to him and the daily routine you've formed, which mostly consists of breakfasts together, long hours on set, and late-night movie marathons. 

"Yeah, I'm trying not to think about it," you muttered, "gonna miss our little routine."

Pedro studies you. "Maybe we can extend it for a little while longer."

Not knowing where this is going, you raise an eyebrow inquisitively. Pedro smiles, "I..I was thinking maybe... maybe you could come with me to Chile for Christmas with the family." 

Your heart skips a beat as you process Pedro's words. You open your mouth slightly to say something, but you close it again, momentarily speechless, overwhelmed by the unexpected invitation. 

"Uh… I know you probably have plans with your family,” he interjects, “but I thought this would be a good time for you to finally meet my father and the rest of the family, and—" 

Before he could finish, you nodded eagerly, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending Christmas in Chile with Pedro and his family, “Yes, I would love to." 

You've never seen him smile as broadly as he does now, and you know that you have made the right decision. 

New York City

December 15, 2018

“Dude, he invited you to his hometown with his family, and you still think that man has no feelings for you?” 

“Taylor...” you paused, picking up a clothing item that had fallen to the floor. “It's just a friendly gesture.”

“Yeah, I'm sure he invites everyone to his hometown to spend the holidays with his family. Sureee.” 

You didn't want to go there; you'd promised yourself that you wouldn't get entangled in what ifs, so your friend's teasing wasn't helping you keep those thoughts at bay. 

“I told you, he doesn't like me like that. I know he doesn't,” you say, suddenly remembering that night when you overheard him telling Sarah how he felt about you. “Plus, as my agent, you more than anyone know I can't do relationships right now; my life's too busy." 

Taylor finished zipping up the last of your bags for the trip and gave you a reassuring smile. "I know, but it doesn't hurt to have a little fun, does it? And who knows—maybe he has changed his mind. Just enjoy the trip and have fun." 

No, he hasn’t changed his mind. 

“Yeah, I just want to have a good time, really. Things have been so good between us these past couple of months, It just feels...right again. I don’t wanna mess it up.” 

"Understandable, bestie. However, I think you’re both making a huge mistake.” 

You shake your head in amusement. “Thanks for helping me pack.” 

“Thanks?” she scoffs. "I'm expecting a raise." 

Santiago, Chile

December 20, 2018

After the chaos of the day leading up to the flight, it was actually a relief to be sitting here. The large, comfortable seat, with your feet tucked up under you as you gazed out the jet window, felt very much deserved.  

While the gentle buzz of the flight filled your ears, you laid your head against the window of the plane and watched the clouds and the seemingly endless expanse of sky fly by.

As you began to drift off, you did your best to keep your attention on what was outside the plane rather than allowing your mind to wander to what would await you once you arrived at your destination. The mixture of excitement and exhaustion lulled you into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of the journey that lay ahead. 

•••

The taxi ride from the airport to the Balmaceda-Pascal's was a blur of unfamiliar sights and sounds, but you couldn't help feeling a sense of wonder and curiosity as you took in the new surroundings. As the car comes to a stop in front of the house, you shoot Pedro a quick text. 

You: I'm here, tonto. 

Pedrito: I'll be right outside, tonta. 

Since you still had a few things to attend to in New York, he had arrived two days earlier. After insisting like a madman that he could pick you up from the airport and you insisting like a madwoman that you could easily get there on your own, he gave up and let you take a cab. 

The driver has already gotten out of the car to wrestle the luggage from the trunk. You clamber out after him into the brilliant sunlight, the heat instantly making your travel outfit—which consisted of a pair of black leggings, a sweatshirt, and Pedro's Freaky Tales green hoodie—feel suffocatingly thick. The change in temperature is a shock to your system, having just come from New York's freezing climate. 

“Hey you!” Pedro's booming voice interrupts your thoughts, “Nice hoodie. Where'd you get it?” 

“Um, someone left it at my place a while ago, and I decided to keep it. It's really comfy.” 

Pedro smiles and nods, "It suits you. You should wear it more often." 

“Thanks, but not here,” you tell him, your face flushing from the heat. ”It's burning hot."  

“Welcome to Chile, where it's scorching hot during the winter and freezing cold during the summer,” he says in a joking tone, as he tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “Let's get inside, it's cooler.”  

The moment you stepped into the house, you were greeted by a refreshing blast of air conditioning. The house was lovely. You take in the Mediterranean decor style and the large windows that let in natural light as you look around. On either side of the foyer, stone archways lined the way up two stories to an ornate ceiling.

As you make your way to the living room, you catch a glimpse of the various family pictures that adorn the walls. The living room was spacious and inviting, with plush couches and a fireplace that made you feel right at home. 

Dropping your bags next to the stairs that led to the second floor, Pedro places a hand in your back and gestures you towards a hallway, “C'mon, everyone is out back.” 

At the back of the house, tangled trees press close, the forest extending as far as you can see, and off to the left, in the meadow, a gazebo adorned with wild grapes stands within a smaller thicket of trees. Bright glass-shard wind chimes and cutesy bird feeders swing in the branches, and the path cuts past a row of flowering bushes before curving onto a footbridge and then disappearing into the mountains on the far side. 

It's like something out of a storybook. Charming, picturesque, and perfect. 

“You're here!” A familiar voice drew your attention back to earth. “And right on time. How was your flight?” 

Pedro's sister, Javiera, lit up with a smile as she hugged you tightly. You returned the embrace, grateful for her warm welcome. "It was long, but good nonetheless," you replied with a smile.  

“Well, if it isn't the infamous best friend I keep hearing about?” you turned around to see Pedro's father approach you with a friendly smile on his face. 

"Yup, that's me," you reply, extending your hand for a handshake. 

"I'm glad to finally meet you," he says, shaking your hand. "Pedro talks about you all the time."

“I hope good things,” you chuckle, “and it's great to finally meet you too, Mr. Balmaceda.” 

“Oh, please call me José,” he tells you, waving his hands. Just like his son, you notice that José has a warm and welcoming personality, making you feel at ease. “And please, make yourself feel at home; we're thrilled to have you.” 

“No, he's thrilled to have a world famous superstar staying at his house,” Nicolás, Pedro's brother, retorts back at his father. Making everyone laugh and leaving you feeling a bit embarrassed. 

"Oh, I don't know about being a superstar," you say lowly. 

“Are you kidding?" Nicolás cuts you off as he takes a seat, "Don't be modest. It's literally an honor to have you here." 

“Yeah, you're sooo cool,” Javiera's older son added. 

"Okay, alright, that's enough." Javiera must have noticed your embarrassed expression. She reached out to you and held you by the shoulders, reassuring you. “Let's not overwhelm her with too much praise. Let's give her some space, she must be tired." 

And she was right. The almost 12 hour flight has left you feeling exhausted, jet lagged, and in need of a very long nap. 

"Vamos princesa, I'll take you to your room." Pedro turned around and led the way towards the room while you followed him closely, trying to keep your eyes open and fighting the urge to just collapse on the floor. 

As you reached the second floor, your attention was drawn back to the house. “This place is so gorgeous, P.” 

“We got it a couple of years ago. We wanted something a little bit bigger so we could have everyone over for vacations, and we also wanted something that felt like home, you know?” 

“I love it,” you tell him.  

“This is your room,” he says, jerking his chin at the door on the right, “and this is mine.” 

He opens the door to the room on the left. His room, much like mine, is absolutely huge. The bed is along the wall immediately to your right as you enter, a recklessly comfortable looking king size bed doused under the weight of a fluffy duvet and an insane amount of pillows.

The bedding is bright white and contrasts sharply with the dark wooden floorboards. "Your bed looks like a big fluffy cloud," you say, giggling. 

"It feels like one," he says, smiling. He can tell what you're thinking by the look in your eyes,"Go on, I know you want to." 

Like a little kid, you start running towards the bed, feeling the softness of the plush carpet under your feet. As you sink into the bed, you realize that it's even more comfortable than it looks, and you can't help but let out a contented sigh. 

“P, I’m never moving again,” you say, your voice drifting over to him. 

"Ha. You’ll have to.”

“Hmm, why exactly?” you turn over onto your stomach and lean against your elbows to face him. 

"Because it's my bed," he simply states, "and I have plenty of plans that don't include you spending the entire trip in my bed."  

Bravery takes over, and you give him a playful smirk. "Well, I guess I'll just have to make sure those plans change then."

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Good luck with that, sweetheart.”

You know this is cruel. You were torturing yourself. Being so optimistic was cruel, but because of your longing and deep, hidden desires, you couldn't help but indulge in silly fantasies and play along. 

“Alright, I'll go to mine,” you say with a forced smile as you get off the bed, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. “I need to nap right now, or I'll die.” 

“I will, uh, come get you for dinner later.” 

“Sure, boss,” you tell him, patting him on the shoulder as you walk past him to leave the room.  

“Sweet dreams.” 

In the past four days, you've learned many things.

First, Chile was sickeningly beautiful. The vibrant colors of the buildings and the breathtaking scenery of the Andes Mountains made you feel like you were in a dream. It spread out beneath you like a patchwork quilt, with each square representing a different aspect of its culture and history. From the bustling city streets to the serene beaches.

The food was also a highlight, and you're pretty sure you gained a few pounds from indulging in the delicious local cuisine.

“Here, try this one.”

“That's the biggest empanada I've ever seen in my life,” you exclaimed as you took a bite of the savory pastry, filled with juicy meat and vegetables. “This is so fucking good.”

Pedro chuckles. “It's filled with a mixture called Pino.” 

“Okay, forget the manjar. This,” you say, mouth full, “is my new favorite thing in this country.” 

Pedro gasps. “I thought I was your favorite thing in this country.” 

You grin and give him a playful nudge. "Okay, fine. You're still my favorite, but this empanada might take the top spot."  

“That's better,”  you look up at him, trying not to melt then and there at the signature wide grin spread across Pedro's gorgeous face. “But you know, there's still plenty of time for me to prove that I deserve the top spot.” 

You chuckle at his remark, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "We'll see about that, Pascal," you reply, taking another bite of the delicious empanada and secretly hoping he succeeds in his mission. 

•••

Second, Pedro's family were the warmest hosts you could have imagined, eager to share their traditions and stories with you. They accepted you as one of their own and made you feel like a member of the family.

They took you on various adventures throughout the city, showing you hidden gems that only locals knew about. The tradition of taking a trip to a hiking site outside the city whenever all of them got together was in motion and this year it was the Valley of the Moon's turn.

“That hike was so worth it, guys," Nico says, a little out of breath from climbing up the steep trail. 

Damn right, it was. As you're standing atop a giant sand dune, you're bewildered by what you're witnessing. The view as the sun slips below the horizon is out of this world. The ring of volcanoes and surreal lunar landscapes of the valley are suddenly suffused with intense purples, pinks, and golds. It's the most beautiful sunset you've ever seen. 

You quickly grab the camera that's hanging around your neck and start taking pictures, trying to capture the breathtaking moment before it fades away. “Guys, get together!” you shout, “A family photo with this stunning backdrop is a must.”  

As you finish taking the pictures, Pedro's voice breaks the silence, “Javi, grab the camera and take one of us, please.” 

You comply and hand the camera to her. Pedro sneaks a hand around your waist and pulls you close, “Smile, princesa.” 

“Don't tell me what to do,"  you playfully retort, leaning into him and smiling for the camera. 

•••

And third, Pedro has always had a thing for theatrics. Today, some of you decided to take a trip to the beach. The heat was unbearable, and the cool ocean water sounded like the perfect way to beat it.  

He would often come out of the ocean dramatically, splashing water all around and pretending to be a sea monster to scare his nephews. As soon as he saw the waves, he ran towards them and jumped into the water with a loud roar. His nephews laughed and cheered him on as he swam towards them, pretending to be a giant creature ready to attack. 

After spending most of the day in the water, you were sitting down on the sand, attempting to make sand castles with one of Pedro's cousins. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was soothing, making you feel relaxed. “My god, he's like a kid,” you tell her, looking at Pedro as he continued to play with his nephews, now closer to the shore. 

She laughs. “He's always been like this. As a child, he was always playful and energetic, and he never lost that spirit as he grew up. It's one of the many things we love about him."

The sandcastle you were working on was slowly starting to take shape. Pedro's cousin continued to build it and tell you stories about him, letting nostalgia wash over you.

She told you about his grandfather and how he used to take them to watch double features of old movies, and how that heavily influenced Pedro's love for storytelling and cinema. You didn’t know him then, and you'll never understand why it feels like you did. “But you know, one of my absolute favorite memories is when he recited Hamlet here on the beach with Grandpa." 

“Actually, it was Death of a Salesman, cousin.”  

His voice startles you as you turn to see him standing behind you, a small smile on his face. "I do remember that day," he continued as he lowered himself onto the sand behind you, legs on each side of your body. He places a hand on your thigh for a brief moment as he settles behind you before removing it.

You want nothing more than to reach out and put his hand back on you, to insist he keep touching you but you don’t. 

He starts helping you with the sandcastle, and your breath catches in your throat as you feel his familiar warmth spread through your body. Droplets of water from his hair fall onto your warm skin, and the small elephant tattoo on his right inner thigh catches your eye as he reaches for a shovel,  "I was about 14 years old. I videotaped it but lost the fucking camera on the trip back to the States.” 

“Damn, I would've loved to see that.” 

He chuckles in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe I can reenact it for you.” 

“Please do.”  

•••

Pedro suggested you two go outside and stargaze with a glass of wine after returning from the beach. The evening summer breeze was much cooler than the daytime breeze. You were both sitting on the back porch, leaning back on the cushioned chair, the wooden floor creaking under your weight.

“Want me to open another bottle, princesa?”  

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Pedrito?”

You can't help but stare as Pedro throws back his head, a bellowing laugh escaping him into the quiet night air. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he shakes his head, still chuckling. "No, I just want to make sure you're enjoying yourself. And if that means another bottle of wine, then so be it." 

He reaches for your glass, hands touching briefly, and pours you some more. Even in the dark, the blinding white of his smile and the twinkle in those achingly beautiful brown eyes are impossible to miss.

With the moon low in the sky, his silhouette was even clearer to you: the way the bridge of his nose dips into the top of the large glass, the delicate hold of his fingers on the stem, and the mess of his hair.

Cicadas screamed into the night air as the taste of the rich, velvety wine danced on your tongue. Now, slightly tipsy on the red wine, you were nearly too lost in your memory of the moment to notice that Pedro had turned his head from above to look at you. Clearly, your staring had captured his attention, but you went to stare resolutely at the night sky again. 

He sobered quickly, but his eyes never left you. You felt the weight of his lingering stare and were thankful that the darkness of the night and warmth of the fire covered your suddenly flushed cheeks. “Excited for Christmas tomorrow?” you ask softly, trying to break the tension with a light-hearted question. 

“Yes,” he replied with a small smile, "but I'm more excited that you get to spend it with us."

A warmth filled your chest, and if your cheeks weren't already blushing already, they certainly were now, but you wouldn’t look away from him. The meaning wasn’t lost on you. “Thank you for inviting me, really. I thought I was going to be sad, but you guys have made me feel at home." 

Pedro frowns. “What do you mean? About being sad.”  

“I kind of hate this season now because it reminds me how lonely I am,” you chuckle, gripping the wine glass slightly tighter. “And don't get me wrong, I love my family and my friends, but after you spend years with someone, Christmas just feels different without them around, you know? It's like...” you trail off, trying to put into words the feeling of emptiness that lingers within you. “Like there's a void that can't be filled no matter how many people are around you. And-and it's not like I miss that person in particular, I just miss having someone.” 

His unblinking eyes hadn’t left yours, and you continued, feeling vulnerable but also relieved to finally get that out of your system. “I know it sounds silly, but I think it’s just a reminder that things change. you meet people and you love them, and then you lose them. It's inevitable, and it happens to everyone.” 

It falls quiet between you again, the familiarity of the years of friendship meaning you are both comfortable with it. The weight of what you just said still hangs heavy in the air until he nods slowly, breaking the silence. “I get it. I feel the same way somehow,” you tear your eyes away from the constellations above to stare at him quizzically, a raised eyebrow telling him to elaborate. 

He huffs out a laugh, as if he's amused by your confusion or embarrassed by his own vulnerability, and continues, “I guess that's one of the reasons why I don't date. I'm saving myself from that.”

“Yeah, I guess now I am too,” you respond, nodding in understanding.

"Also, not to sound like an arrogant asshole—" 

“Which you probably will anyway,” you add in a playful tone. 

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” he says mockingly. “But my schedule is busy, if I wanna be involved in something, I want to pay attention to it and nurture it. It takes energy to be with someone.” 

“It's not arrogant, it's the truth. I was telling Taylor the same thing the other day,” you tell him. “I can't date because I don't have the time to, but...” 

“But what?” Pedro interrupts. 

“Don't rush me, dude,” you chuckle. “But I'm also human, and I have needs sometimes, and it sucks that I can't just go to a bar like a regular person and sit on the barstool, have a drink, and wait for someone to approach me so we can go to their place and have sex and forget about it the next morning,” you finally admit, staring down at your finger swirling over the rim of your glass. 

“No strings attached," he adds, his voice scratchy. “I, um, ha. I wish I could do that too. You're not alone.”

“Hooking up with someone like that in our world would involve lots of NDAs,” you say, laughing. 

“Oh yes, very romantic stuff.” 

His eyes were doing the thing, the Pedro thing, and you did your best to ignore the way your heart lurched. The moment was charged with tension, and you both knew that there was more to say, and since neither of you dared to break the silence, someone else decided to break it for you, clearing their throat loudly and making you both jump. You turn to see Javiera standing by the door, looking amused and a little bit smug. 

"I just wanted to let you guys know the rest of us are going out for dinner, in case you're interested in joining us," she said, her eyes flickering between the two of you. “Uh, no. Thanks, I'm beat. The wine has made me sleepy.” 

“I'm gonna have to pass too, sis,” Pedro tells her. “You guys have fun.”

“Yeah, you too,” she says with a sly smile. “We'll be back late!” 

After she leaves, you stand up and stretch your arms, feeling the effects of the wine yourself. “Woah. Too much wine,” you chuckle. “I should head to bed now before I regret it in the morning.”

“Me too,” he breathes out as he gets up, collecting his glass and yours. "Goodnight, princesa," he adds with a smile before you head towards the door. “Goodnight, P.” 

•••

As soon as you entered your room, you immediately hopped in the shower, hoping to wash away the exhaustion from the day and also the dirty thoughts that had been lurking in your mind.

The warm water cascading down your body helped ease the tension in your muscles, and you let out a contented sigh. After a few minutes, you stepped out and changed into fresh clothes. 

As you lie in bed, the conversation you had an hour before with Pedro seems to replay in your mind. 

I wish I could do that too. You're not alone.

You promised yourself you wouldn't cross that line again. The last time you took that black, bold line and made it gray, it came with consequences. But you're not known for making the best decisions when it comes to these matters anyway. 

You start to feel anxious and restless, unable to quiet your thoughts or fall asleep.

Perhaps a glass of water will help.

As you walk out of the bedroom, everything is dark, meaning everyone is still out for dinner. You have only the soft glow of the city outside the large windows to guide your way. 

Hesitating as you walk through the hallway towards the stairs, you slow your steps, not entirely trusting your eyes to keep you from running into anything in the dark, unfamiliar space in such low light. Before you reach the stairs, you notice the light underneath Pedro's room, casting a faint glow onto the hallway carpet.

He's still up, you thought. 

Before you even realized what you were doing, you were heading toward his room. 

“Pedro?” you call out his name as you gently knock on the door, “You up?”

“Bathroom! Come in!”  he screams. You reach the doorknob and push it open. The sound of water running fills your ears as you step inside. You plop down sideways on his bed, legs dangling off the edge, and wait for him to finish his shower. The chilly night air seeps in through the slightly open door of his balcony, making you shiver. 

“Can't sleep?” His voice is soft and soothing as he walks out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry and wearing only black boxers. You avert your gaze, trying to ignore the way just looking at his face, with his golden skin from all the sun exposure, the shadow of dark scruff on his cheeks, and his brown eyes crinkled by a soft smile, makes your heart race. 

“Nope,” you mumble. “Too much on my mind, I guess.” 

“Enlighten me, please,” he quickly replies, returning to the bathroom. You get off the bed, take a deep breath, and try to compose yourself, but the sight of him in those boxers makes it difficult. You know that if you start talking about what's really on your mind, things might get even more complicated between the two of you. 

“Uh...” you huffed out a laugh as the scenario played in your head, your legs almost giving out as you felt your guts twisting. Your mouth fell slightly agape as he stepped back into the room, “What's so funny?” he inquired. You fidget with your fingers and look at him, still chuckling a bit, “That conversation we had earlier. I can't stop thinking about it," 

Pedro leaned against the bathroom door, his face puzzled, reflecting that he had no idea which of the many conversations you two had today you were referring to. “The one about hooking up, I mean. And how you wish you could do that too," you continue, not bothering to try and hide the small beginnings of a smile from Pedro's watchful gaze, entirely more interested in testing the waters than anything else.

“Oh?” is all Pedro gives by way of a reply, not that you mind much since that works just as well as a real answer theoretically could. “Oh," you confirm. This could go either way, but as of right now, you're willing to take the risk. 

His gaze is fixed on you, and you go back to lying on the bed, closing your eyes as if you're bracing for the impact of the unknown. “I was wondering if—and I might be making a complete fool of myself by saying this—but what if...” you trail off. "What if we..?” you can't bring yourself to finish the sentence, suddenly realizing that once you say it, you can't take it back. 

“Fucked?” he interrupts, and your eyes shoot open, surprised by his bluntness. You sit up on the bed, heart racing as you try to gather the courage to speak. “I mean, we-we know each other, and we're both horny, and we wouldn't have to sign any NDAs,” you joke, trying to lift the weight off the air.  

"That's true," Pedro quips quickly, though any hint of eagerness in his reply is tempered by the softness of his voice. You feel the blush that rises in your cheeks at the implication in his words and you look away, seemingly breaking the trance you’ve been in. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” you repeat, dumbfounded.

“Would you rather have me say no?” he chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans one shoulder into the doorframe and deciding that for now he’ll stay where he is, knowing he looks like a smug jerk but unable to help himself. 

“No!” you tell him, rather eagerly. “I mean, of course you can say no. We don't have to do this if you're not into it,” you add softly. 

He says your name and looks into your eyes, "My answer's yes.”

“Okay, but I have some rules,” you get off the bed, body tensed with anticipation. “Of course you do,” Pedro says, arching his eyebrow and giving you a knowing smile. 

“No feelings. This can only happen while we're here. Once we go back to our normal lives, this never happened,” you tell him. He nods, taking a slow step forward and then another, and although there’s still a great deal of space between the two of you, you can feel the tension building. "Also, we can't tell anybody about this, not even our closest friends,” you continue.

He's closer now, feeling his breath on your face, and his hands find their way to your waist. "It's our little secret," he whispers, and you grab his shoulders to steady yourself.

“And no nicknames. No princesa, no baby, no love,” you try to sound stern but your voice betrays the excitement you feel. 

He grins mischievously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But there's no fun in that.” 

“Fine. You can call me whatever you want,” you give in, finding his amusement endearing.  

“Well, that was easy,” he chuckles, his grin widening. “Are you done with your rules?” 

“Yes, I guess so,” you stammered, feeling a bit embarrassed for being so easily swayed by his charm. 

“Good,” he says, and you feel a shiver run down your spine as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “So I can start doing this,” he whispers, his hand sliding down your pajama shorts, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin. "And this," he adds, as his lips press against your neck. 

When you finally make yourself let go and stop fighting for some false sense of restraint for even one second longer, you notice that something changes in the way Pedro touches you, as if he's more confident and sure of himself.

His free hand moves up to hold the back of your head to hold you in place. You do the same, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders for support. The tip of his finger under your shorts traces over where you’re slick and too ready for him. His mouth is tantalizingly close to yours, brown eyes staring into yours, pining and desperately waiting. “Can I?” he asks. 

It's humorous and sweet even that he's asking permission to kiss you when one of his hands is already under your pants. Every rational thought disappears, and you crush your mouth against his. 

Everything is slow and heavy, and he never lets his finger slide into you even when you silently beg for it. Just dragging it over and back—too little and too much all at the same time.

He presses the pad of his finger into your clit, and you have to break away from his mouth to groan, overwhelmed, knees wobbly. Pedro laughs quietly and nuzzles against your neck so his beard scruffs. 

“Mi princesa,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly, “you make such pretty sounds." 

There is a real chance you could spontaneously combust into flames just from the sound of his voice and his sweet nothings. He continues to draw circles on your clit making you moan and writhe in pleasure, feeling like you're about to explode with ecstasy. As he whispers more sweet words in your ear, you can't help but surrender to the intense sensations he's giving you.  

“Is that good?” he asks, his voice rough, “Does that feel good?” 

“Yes," you whisper, a hand traveling to his hair, tugging it tightly. “Yes.” 

Just when you're about to come undone, he suddenly stops. Your eyes quickly find his for some explanations as to why he decided to put on hold the very satisfying and impending orgasm that was building up within you. “Oops,” he simply states, a grin plastered on his face.  

“I fucking hate you,” you whine, pulling away from him. “I was so close! What you do that for?”

"I have some rules, too."

“Now?” you ask him, clearly frustrated with his antics. “Well, go on.” 

“Actually, it's just one,” Pedro says, arching his eyebrows and giving you a knowing smile. His reaction is met by narrowed eyes, like you’re making sure to watch him closely until you figure out where exactly he’s going with this. "You do as I say. Which also means you come when I say." 

“Sounds—” you're regaining your footing, regaining control over yourself, trying to reinstate some power, but the way he just said those words has taken away any sense of authority you thought you had. His voice is commanding, with no room for compromise or disobedience. “Sounds dangerous, but... alright.” 

“Good girl, now get on the bed,” he says, and the timbre of his voice nearly kills you then and there, the dropping pitch making the words come out rough and serious. Pedro still sounds like himself, since his normal voice is more than enough to make you a little weak at the knees on a regular day, this new variant is a completely different monster. 

You lay there, waiting for his next instruction, as the shadows danced on the walls and the sound of his footsteps echoed in the silence. Once he reaches the bed and fists his hands in the sheets on either side of your thighs, bending down until he’s face to face with you, your eyes level with his. You let your hands roam over his broad shoulders and down his torso, feeling his tense muscles relax under your touch. 

“I need you now, P,” you mumble, and you move your hand lower to hold him through his boxers. He twitches into you. 

“What did I say?” his dark eyes are fixed on you as he reaches for your hand and pins it above your head. "I don't think you fully understand the consequences of disobeying me. We'll do this my way," he whispers menacingly.

This dark side of Pedro is one you've never seen before. The Pedro you know is a sunshine. However, the man on top of you right now is a completely different person, and you're more than the ready to get to know him. 

“Keep your hands above your head. No touching."

Your body is aching for him, all willing and open, but he’s sliding down you, pushing your shorts down as he goes. His soft hands trace your thighs and stops at your knees, “Open up for me.” 

"So pretty," he says, voice thick. You look down to see his face, pupils blown wide. “Can't wait to taste you, baby.” 

You're a wreck. A writhing, moaning, shaking wreck. Shit. You don't even need to be looking at his face to know how arrogant he is right now, not that you could—it's buried deep inside between your thighs. You're desperate to grab his hair just to see where misbehaving will take you, but you settle for the headboard. 

He kisses your cunt, messy and hot. A groan rumbles in his throat and he moves his tongue in circles, exploring every inch of your wetness. You arch your back, lost in pleasure, as he continues to devour you with his mouth. When you look down again, his brown eyes are staring back at you as his fingers slide into you, finding the right spot in milliseconds. It's fucking game over. 

His pace increases as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, perfectly coordinated with his tongue and his goddamn nose. “Pedro...” you whimper, out of breath. “P-Please let me cum." 

“Not yet, baby," he chuckles, fingers continue to expertly tease and stroke your sensitive areas, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. "I know you can hold it for a little longer,” you cry out, gripping the bedsheets as you desperately try to move your hips to ride his fingers. Your eyes are watering slightly from how good he’s making you feel. 

“You can cum now.”

Every part of your body spasms, and you scream, everything buzzing and vibrating as you tighten around him, bucking and thrashing, pleasure and electricity flooding your body. Removing his fingers, he starts kissing the inside of your thighs, all the way up to your belly and lips. As you try to catch your breath, he whispers in your ear, "That was just the beginning. I want to make you cum again and again."

You can tell Pedro loves the way your face heats up at his words. “Please do,” you tell him, grabbing the waistband of his boxers, and your wandering hands are met by bare, warm skin and the short, neatly cropped hair that grows thicker the further down your fingers dare to venture.

“I know you said you're in charge, but I really need you to take this off,” you say, losing your ability to wait for orders. To your surprise, he complies and gets off the bed, slides down his boxers, just as you get rid of your t-shirt. You can't help but admire the sight of him fully exposed and ready for you, moving to the drawer to pull out a condom, tearing the packet and rolling it onto himself. 

“You can take a picture, it'll last longer." 

“Don't get cocky.”

Pedro settles between you once again, and you grab his face. His eyes glistened, his hot breath on your skin as he leans in closer. Your thumb brushes against the tiny white scar on his nose. “You've marked me forever,” he chuckles, as he cradles your head and kisses you, his nose brushing against yours. 

You grab his length and give him a slow, steady stroke from base to tip, then back down. His mouth leaves yours as his dick twitches in your firm grasp, causing him to groan involuntarily. The pace of your hand up and down his length never picking up or slowing down, instead maintaining the same teasingly slow pace.

“Are you sure?” he whispers softly.

“Yes.” 

Pedro guides himself over you, the head of his cock slipping over where you’re open, up to rub on your clit so your fingers dig into his shoulders. His nose nudges gently against yours, “I'll be gentle, princesa.” 

“I don't want you gentle. I want you rough.” 

“Is that so?”

You moan, eyes closing. You can't even remember how to breathe, let alone speak. Pedro pushes only his head into you, opening you before pulling out, leaving you contracting around nothing. “I'm going to fuck you roughly, and you'll take it like a good girl, won't you?”

“Yes, P,” you rasp, hands sliding across his back. He's playing with you and knows how to make it almost unbearably good. He pushes deeper into you this time, and you can feel your body resist, protesting that he's too big, too much, and he pulls out. He drags his cock over where you're slick and messy before thrusting forward as far as he can. Your nails sink into his broad shoulders, back arching and pushing your stomach into his. "Oh my God.”

“You feel so fucking good, baby. Like you're made for me." 

Your legs wrap around his hips, ankles crossing at the bottom of his back, to keep him there, deep inside you. His head drops to your shoulders, pressing his lips to your collarbone. You're close, again.

“Please...” you beg, moaning like you've lost all sanity, his mouth pulls away slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Please what?" he asks, his voice low and husky. 

“More, please, I need more."

The way Pedro's fucking you right now borders on dangerous, making you question lots of things—things you'd rather not think about right now, as he reaches for your hand and places it on your lower stomach. “Feel that?” 

You're not sure who moans louder: you when you realize why he's put your hand here, or Pedro when your walls clench involuntarily around his cock at the sensation. Your entire body tightens as you cry out, coming undone once again. 

He presses his lips against your forehead and rolls you over, his cock still buried inside you. 

“Pedro…that was…” you pant, body on top of his. “Did you come?”

He smirks. “Not yet, because you're gonna ride me now.” 

Despite the fact that your body is weak and spent, the simple thought of being on top of him is enough fuel to make you feel a surge of energy. You straddle his hips, feeling his hardness against you, and sinking down on his dick. 

“Like this?” you ask as you begin to move your body in sync with his, Your hips swirl and grind down, and Pedro's face is filled with pleasure. “Yes, mi amor. Just like that.” 

Every rock of your hips and the way Pedro's pushing into you are the perfect rhythm. His hands grip your hips so tight, you're pretty sure it'll leave bruises for days. You lean down, his mouth close by your ear, as he fucks into you, hearing him whisper things only you get to hear. “you feel so good, baby, taking my cock so fucking well.”  

Everything is so overwhelming—your body responding to his every thrust and word. It's a moment of pure ecstasy, and you never want it to end. Collapsing onto his chest, your fingers reach up to grip his hair. The satisfying sound of slapping skin echoes through the room, and you're suddenly glad there's no one in the house. 

Pedro slaps your ass as you're still rocking back against his thrust. “You're gonna cum for me again, baby?” 

“Yes, yes, yes!” you moaned as your body trembled with pleasure, mouth crashing into his, squeezing him so tight he can't hold back, and you feel him spill into the condom. He curses out your name as he's twitching and spasming inside you.

The post-sex haze settles over you both as you lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow. After a couple of minutes, Pedro finally slips out of you and heads to the bathroom. You manage to get up, body aching. As you gather your clothes from the floor and dress up, he emerges from the bathroom, his face puzzled.

“What are you doing?” 

You chuckle, “Leaving.” 

Of course you didn't want to leave, but since you agreed this was just sex and nothing more, staying sounds like a dangerous situation.

There's no need to make this situation more complicated than it already is, even if you gaslight yourself into thinking this is fine as long as you're both on the same page. 

“No,” he interjects. “Stay.” 

“Pedro, we said—"

“I know what we said, but stay. Just for tonight.” 

You give him a warning look, and he gives you the same look back. “It'll make me feel dirty if you leave." you burst out laughing, and his face turns red. How's this the same man that just minutes ago was whispering the filthiest things into your ear?  

“Okay, I'll stay.”  

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed and no signs of Pedro. If you weren't lying on his bed, legs hurting like you ran a marathon, and your body wrapped in his warm blankets, you would have thought it was all a dream. Because in your dreams is the only place you are together, it's where you come home to him and he comes home to you. 

You could still feel his hands moving over your skin, his breath on your neck, and the way he whispered in your ear, making you feel like the most loved person in the world. 

Except it wasn't lovemaking; it was just sex. 

The warmth of the hot chilean sun spilled through the bedroom window, casting a golden glow on the walls and illuminating the dust particles that danced in the air. The distant sound of soft music and laughter from downstairs made you smile as you sat up against the headboard. 

The sound of the door opening interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up to see Pedro wearing the coziest looking sweater, his dark hair all over the place, and presumably a cup of coffee in his hand. “Good morning, solecito,” he says sitting down next to you. "I made you a cup of coffee, just the way you like it." 

You take the cup from his hand, fingers touching. “It can't possibly still be morning,” you rasp, voice still hoarse. 

“No, it's not," he tells you. “It's 2:30pm.” 

The fear in your face is palpable. “Fuck, did I miss the gift exchange?” you blurt out.

Pedro's pursed lips and guilty expression made it clear that you, in fact, missed the happiest time of the day. “No...” you dragged out, “Why didn't you wake me up?!” you demanded, hitting him on the shoulder.

“I didn't want to disturb your sleep, you looked so peaceful," he replied with a sheepish grin. "But if it makes you feel better, everyone loved what you got them." 

You groan in response. “I hate you so much.”

“Are you always this mean when you wake up?" 

You shrug, bringing the cup to your lips. “Eh, only when I have to deal with people who make me miss the fun part of Christmas." 

“Let's talk about how my dad got the better gift, by the way,” he tells you, moving his hands energetically. “And how I'm definitely not jealous at all.” 

“I had to impress him, and you can never go wrong with a Rolex,” you remark with a grin. “Plus, you deserve it after doing the most evil thing you could do to me.” 

“You mean caring for your wellbeing and letting you rest after the very... eventful night you had?” he says teasingly. “Shut up,” you reply, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. In true Pedro fashion, he dramatically dodges the pillow and grins slyly, "You can't silence me that easily."

“I have other ways,” you quickly reply.

Oh, how you love to play with fire. 

Pedro raises an eyebrow and chuckles, “Is that so?”

You hum. The tension is palpable in the air as you look into his eyes, trying to read his face. You wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart. 

“Wanna see what I got you?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled, his eyes still on you. 

“Dying to,” you say, pretending not to notice how he changed the subject, setting the coffee mug on the nightstand, “but first I need to shower before I go downstairs.”

“No need,” he reaches for his front pocket, pulling out a small wrapped package. You eagerly take it from him, eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Espero que te guste.”

Tearing the paper off and opening the black box, you find a beautiful necklace with a delicate gold chain and a small emerald pendant. “Now I feel like an asshole,” you say, immediately regretting getting him a bunch of funny socks. Your eyes are still fixed on the necklace. 

Pedro laughs, your favorite sound in the world, “Hey, I love my socks. You didn't have to get me so many though,”

“I didn't know which ones you'd like better, so I got you a bunch of ‘em,” you say, a hint of embarrassment in your voice. “This is so beautiful," 

“It's your favorite gemstone," he says softly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Your eyes meet his, and for a split second, everything is okay.

You rush forward to embrace him, catching him off guard by the way he chuckles and says oh. He wraps his arms tightly around you, and you nuzzle into his neck, feeling the soft fabric of his sweater and the familiar scent of his cologne. “Thanks so much, P,” you say, voice drowning on his skin.  

“Merry Christmas, mi amor."

No strings attached, spontaneous, fun, and only while you're here. That's what you and Pedro agreed upon when you decided to have sex five nights ago. But the way he has you pinned against the shower wall and making your legs tremble with pleasure right now has you thinking of a way to make him not want to do this with anyone else.

The slick, wet sounds of Pedro's fingers pumping in and out of you filled the bathroom as you moaned in bliss. “Can you be a good girl for me and be quiet?” his nose brushes against yours, “We don't want them to hear us, do we?” 

You shake your head, blown away, feeling suffocated, as he drags two fingers over your swollen clit. Your jaw sags as the pleasure floods your body as he applies more pressure to it, causing you to grumble in pleasure. As two fingers slide into you, deliciously stretching you, he covers your mouth with his, absorbing your satisfied moan.

He pulled his mouth away from yours, and the water slipped through his hair, dampening it and sticking it back on his forehead. "Open your mouth," he says, a glint in his eyes as you look at him, bewildered. He presses two fingers against your tongue and the sweet-salty taste fills your mouth as you suck on his fingers. “See how fucking good you taste.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I need to feel you inside me."

Pedro lets his hand wander around your hips and slowly drags it down, lifting your leg and securing it around his hip. He took the space between your thighs, aligned himself with your entrance, and pushed in, giving you a split second to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in.

He was moving faster, and you felt like a ragdoll in his arms, so euphoric from your high that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to you and you'd gladly accept it. 

“F-faster, please,”

You've had sex in a variety of positions over the last few days, but there was something about this position and the access it provided that you found incredibly satisfying. His wet, solid chest pressed against yours, his hand tight against your thigh as he buried himself deep within you.

Pedro let out a low groan, one you were all too familiar with by this point, indicating that he was about to finish. His hips trembled and he let out a final grunt, his breaths ragged and heavy as he came inside of you, mouths meeting in a kiss. 

The two of you stood there, still in that proximity for a moment, full of love and softness because above all else, he was your best friend. 

“Can I wash your hair?” 

“Only if you let me wash yours after,” he replies, reaching for the shampoo bottle.

“Deal.” 

Since they had a low-key Christmas consisting mainly of hot chocolate, fuzzy sweaters and movies, the family decided to plan a big New Year's Eve celebration to make up for it. Which prompted you to take a quick trip to the city yesterday in search of a dress because you hadn't packed anything fancy. 

Pedro insisted that you didn't have to stress over that, to which you obviously objected.

“Sorry, but I'm not taking fashion advice from someone who has like three t-shirts and a pair of jeans,” you said, scrolling through your phone in search of stores. “You wound me, baby,” he replied, putting a hand on his chest in mock pain. “But if you insist on shopping, let me take you.”

“No, you still have to help Javi with the party,” you said, getting up from the the couch. “I'll drive there, and I'll take Pedro and Bruno with me.”  

Pedro looked at you slowly, processing your statement, looking uncertain.

“Google Maps is a thing, and we'll be fine. Now give me your keys.”

“I like it when you're bossy,” he said, his voice lowering with a hint of a smile. “They're on the counter."

And thanks to the heavens, you decided to make an effort and find something suitable for the occasion because they went all out. 

The bass pounded through the walls as the guests danced and laughed, enjoying the party. The colorful decorations and delicious food made it a night to remember.

“Oh my god, they're gone,” Javiera groans, referring to the tray of now empty lemon bars that were apparently the highlight of the dessert table. “I wanted another one!” 

“I made another batch, I hid them in the oven,” you quickly tell her, feeling a little proud of yourself over the fact that people were enjoying what you made. “I'll go get them.”

“I will come with you.”

Once you both reach the empty kitchen, you go straight to the oven, pulling out the tray of lemon bars and setting it on the kitchen island. 

“Thank you for taking Pedro and Bruno out yesterday, by the way."

"I had so fun much with them. They're great boys and even better fashion advisers,” you tell her, gesturing to your burgundy dress. 

“Glad to know I've taught them well,” she says laughing. 

As you cut the bars into perfect squares, Javiera grabs one and takes a bite, savoring the tangy sweetness. "These are amazing, you should consider selling them," she exclaims, closing her eyes in content. 

You smile. “In another lifetime, I own a bakery in a small town with a living unit attached to the top. I have a beautiful green kitchen, and I don't feel the need to prove myself to people."

Javiera gives you a warm smile as you grab the powdered sugar. “You know,” she says reluctantly. “I see things and I feel things,” you stop what you're doing to look up at her, confused. “My brother's just scared.” 

Confusion is quickly replaced with clarity as you realize where she's going with this. You open your mouth to say something, but she shuts you down. “He's created this wall to protect himself, he's been through a lot, and he has convinced himself that this is enough, that he doesn't need more, but I know better.” 

A sigh leaves your lips, all of those feelings bubble up until you can't get a good breath, until you’re drowning. She continues, “I have seen you two together, friends don't look at each other like that." 

You know that she's right, but things aren't so simple. Not when it comes to this. 

“Maybe in another lifetime," is all you tell her, grabbing the lemon bars and heading out of the kitchen. 

•••

The backyard is a wonderland of string lights and bunting, the air is filled with the sound of laughter and music as people dance under the stars. You were lost in conversation with Pedro's father. He shared more stories of his youth, what got him to pursue medicine, and how he met Pedro's late mother, leaving you feeling nostalgic for a time you never knew. 

He catches you looking away, follows your gaze straight to Pedro, and smiles knowingly. “I hope you have a good flight tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you say, blushing a little at your own transparency. “Thank you for everything, really.”

“We hope you come back soon, It was a pleasure to have you,” he tells you, placing a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you. He walks off, pausing for a moment to talk to Pedro. Smiles were exchanged, and then he continued his way.  

Pedro looks exceptionally good tonight. Hair perfectly styled, white shirt perfectly stretching over his back. You drink up his movements as he approaches you, a smile plastered on his face.

“Who did your hair?” you ask him, knowing damn well this was someone else's doing because he didn't know how to do it. “My sister,” he replied, chuckling. 

“She's doing the Lord's work,” you tell him, folding your arms, feeling exposed by the way he's staring. It's comical that you feel this way, as if he hasn't seen you naked for the past week. 

“I'm gonna have to hire someone to do my hair at all times if you like it this much.”

“I like it either way,” you admitted, "but I just think it looks extra good when it's styled like this." 

His mouth splits into quite possibly your favorite of his various smiles, the one that makes it look like there's a secret tucked up in one corner of his mouth. “Dance with me?”

“Always.” 

You take his hand and pull him to the deck, beneath the twinkling lights and away from the crowd, while the Bee Gees' “How Deep Is Your Love” plays like the universe just wants to mock you. Pedro folds your hand up in his warm palm, and you rest your cheek against his shoulder, closing your eyes to focus on how this feels. 

It feels right, it feels perfect, and it feels like it's gonna end. 

He nestles his mouth into your hair and breathes you in as you sway. His sister's words ring in your ear once again: My brother's just afraid. 

You allow yourself to imagine this feeling lasting. A world within a world just for you and Pedro, where people just let you both be. Where you belong to each other. And then you invite reality forward to change the story. 

You're working all day, taking endless flights to different locations, because you're trapped in a cycle of wanting to do more and never feeling like it's enough. Pedro exhausted from long days of shooting, press, taking endless flights, and getting pulled down by gravity. 

Unaswered texts. Missed calls. Grief. Hurt. Distance. Missing each other. Fighting. Falling apart. 

And you realize you're afraid too and this can never be.

“Pedro.”

There's a lengthy silence. His voice is a raspy, growly mutter. “I know. But don't say it.”

You don't look at each other. You just need to hold on to each other because if you look, you'll see that this make-believe game is over. You both feel the warmth of each other's embrace and the unspoken words between you. The silence is comforting yet suffocating.

His arms squeezed around you as everyone started to countdown. Cheers filled the air. Fireworks broke out over the sky in a thousand different colors. He tells you happy new year, and you say it back, never letting go. 

Even though you never said it to each other, you both knew. The love was there, and it didn't change anything. 

Maybe in the future, maybe in another lifetime.

Reblog or like if you enjoyed it, thank you for reading :) (i know this ending feels like this is it for them HOWEVER i will be making several other parts because i can't stop writing about this lol)

[dtrghost]

closeness and proximity part.5

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, mega angst, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. violence, torture (reoccurring themes i know), angry ghost cause yes. FLUFF. YAY. Sexual situation to gain advantage over the enemy.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

word count: 3.7k

Simon sat with his team, his eyes trained on the seat she'd sat in when she was there last. It had been a week. A long, gruesome, week with her still out there. He was tormented each night by nightmares, some where he followed through and killed her that night, others where he had saved her, only to wake up to the harsh reality that he didn't.

He failed. She was gone, and she may never come back because of him. They cleared all the bases that came up on their radar, and for once he was glad she was such an asset to HQ. They had all available teams looking for her, Price being at the forefront of the search.

"Let's call it a night then." Soap sighed, everyone nodding in agreement, except for him as they expected. His head shot up, his eyes lighting in a rage that they'd been subjected to since he woke up after his rescue.

"Like hell we're calling it a night." He growled at him. The anger made Gaz and Johnny shrink back, Price squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"Ghost, please-"

"We've got nothing! No leads! No updates!" His hand pounded on the table with each mention of what they lacked.

"We're sittin' at this table like a bunch of lazy fuckers while she's out there-"

"And what would you have us do?" Price interrupted. The room grew tense as two angry, powerful men glared at each other.

"You don't think I wanna find her too? You don't think I'm doin' everything I can? We're tired, and we need to regroup. Nothing good's coming out of us like this." He knew he was right, he hated that he was right. He felt useless, and it pissed him off. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"He's not lightening up until we find her."

"Can't blame him. Get to bed the lot of you." And with that, Price left too, feeling a similar anger to his officer when he slept.

~.~

Cold water pushed her weight back, shocking her awake as the liquid shot up her nostrils and soaking her completely. They used a powerful hose to wake her up after her beating her unconscious the night before, thankfully avoiding her face.

"Morning Sunshine, piss baby callsign yes?" His accent was thick, laughs going around the room as the water turned off. She forced her eyes open, taking in her situation once more. Not the best, not the worst. Her legs were kept free of restraints, but they just barely hit the ground with her hands chained to the ceiling. She spit the water in her mouth out, chuckling lightly as she nodded her head towards them.

"You'd know a thing or two about piss babies wouldn't you." His fist connected with her stomach, but with a puff of her cheeks, no reaction came. He tried again, and yet, nothing, no wince, her feet cementing into the ground so not even a swing either.

"Right~" She drawled out, a bit breathless as she took a look around the room as they stared back in mild shock from the lack of reaction.

"After a while they all feel the same. Let me out and I'll show you how to punch sweetheart." This was her play. Intimidation, sensuality, it worked on the weaker ones, and when she caught the gaze of some of them, she knew she got em. The plan formulated in her mind, and for now she'd tune it out. It was a messy technique, as while she was gone she'd have no idea what happens to her body, so deep into her mind that she couldn't feel anything. It was a severe form of dissociation, but it worked.

"They don't want us touching your face. But they didn't say anything about the rest of you." He pulled out two high power shock sticks, and she knew she was in for it. The pain was excruciating. She could taste the blood in her mouth as she bit down her lip to keep her screams in. It took her back, the feeling of her first round of ECT.

Soon he moved to just beating her, pounding on her body as if she were a punching bag.

Her eyes went blank for a minute, focusing on a spot on the floor as she slowly slipped away, all the pain in her body disappearing.

~.~

"Mrs. L/N. I asked you a question." The lawyer spoke, stepping closer to where she sat on the stand, the courtroom watching this young girl getting berated consistently for the last 10 minutes. Her siblings watched as she was nearing tears from behind the plaintiff, having already been on the stand testifying against their own parents.

"I-uh.. can you say that again?" It was the job of a lawyer to break the client, to force the truth, or whatever would benefit the person they were meant to defend, but this was a child, someone just trying to get by with her life.

"What happened 10 years ago, to your recollection." He repeated calmly. She refused to look at her parents, because if she did she'd lose her words, her ability to speak. So she stared at her siblings, her older sister giving her a smile in attempt to calm her down. But nothing that came out of her in the next few moments would keep that smile on her sister's face, in fact it wiped it from the face of the planet. The flood of words that vomited out her mouth left everyone floored.

Her mother screamed at her from the defendant's side, throwing the first thing she got her hands on at her daughter. The jury watched as a notepad hit her in the head, and all she could do was cry and cover her face. She accused her of lying, screaming profanities to anyone who listened as she was dragged out of the room. Her father on the other hand, he broke down.

That's not fair. She thought. Why is he crying? He was the reason why she was here, why she was confessing her shame, her disgust with herself in front of a room full of people. Why did he have the right to cry? She wanted to tell him to stop. To stop trying to steal their moments of recognition. But the words got lost somewhere, and she stayed quiet as she was escorted off the stand.

When she opened the door to leave, she noticed Simon leaning against the wall in front of her. She looked down at what she was wearing, and suddenly she was an adult again, wearing a ripped black tank top and dirty cargo pants.

"Time to wake up love. Things to do, noses to break."

"It's not looking too good for me Simon. Feels like my body's gonna give out before I get my chance." He shook his head.

"Told you about a week ago that there's not a thing you can't do. I intend to make sure you stick to that. Now get your arse out there and give em hell." She sighed, giving him one last look until she shut her eyes, ripping herself out of her trance.

Her eyes opened and she came to, the room empty with a single guard sitting at a small table next to her.

"Hey." She called to him, blinking the haze out her eyes. He looked up to her, his face lighting up in a way that made her internally grimace. She saw the desire in his face, and she fed into it. He made his way to her with a sultry walk. He was on the shorter side of the spectrum and she looked down at him.

"Hey honey." He hummed, his finger trailing down her cheek for a moment. She ran her eyes down his body, faking seductiveness to get a glimpse on what he had on him. A pistol, standard issue belt with some stuff she could use on it.

Bingo, keys.

"They call you a siren from where I'm from." His accent wasn't as thick, and his words were easily understood. She leaned forward, him following as she leaned towards his ear.

"Let me down and I'll show you what kind of noises I can make." As cliche as it was, it worked. His eyes darkened, his hand twitching over his keys as he felt her lips graze over his ears. Slowly, he flicked through the set he had, and with little work done on her behalf, one unlocked, his hand quick to grasp her wrist. Before he could get the other one, the door slammed open, revealing her original capturer.

"Hey!" He shouted. In a flash her head slammed on his, her foot kicking his gun from his holster, watching it fly from his waist towards her hand, and with a stretch she caught it. She swung it in her hand, putting a bullet in his head before turning it the idiot who let her out.

"Siren's a new one. Maybe that'll be my next callsign." And with that he dropped dead. She had to be quick, her arm now released allowed for one foot to have a farther reach, the keys hanging on her toe as she carefully tossed it up to her hand, the gun now being held in her mouth. She tried each key carefully, knowing if she moved too fast she'd fumble and risk dropping it with the uneven weight now causing her to sway. Her weight was on one arm, and it quickly got sore, so when she dropped to the floor she felt heavy and wobbly.

The pain she pushed off had began coming back to her, and before she knew it she was crouching to the floor, her head between her knees as she gasped for air.

She crawled to the door, having to use all her body weight and strength to push it closed due to it's steel material. She locked herself inside as heavy thuds raced to the room at the sound of the shots fired. The room was designed to lock from the inside so nobody from the other side could pick it, but it quickly became a detriment as they had to use what they had to try and open it another way. She unclipped the vest from one of the men, quickly putting it on herself. It was large on her, the chest piece hanging lower than she'd like, but there was no helping it.

Better than nothing.

She searched the bodies, finding two grenades, she could work with that. She unlocked it, rushing back to the corner on the left of the door, and when it burst open she pulled the pin, watching the soldiers jump back in terror at the explosive in their face. she rushed to the door, shutting it again and listening to the boom from a safer distance. She tuned in to her environment for any more steps, and when she heard none she pried it open again. She picked up someone's rifle that had been flung to the side.

No doubt people heard the explosion, and she was in for it when they came down. So she stocked. She went to any body that was still intact and took whatever gear they had, shoving it anywhere she had room. She was likely underground, noticing the long staircase up as she took in her surroundings.

With the heavy thud of boots, she inhaled and prepared.

Life or death.

~.~

Simon had stayed up that night, finding himself unable to sleep without being haunted by her face. He found himself jolting awake with a shout of her name, and he decided that if she couldn't sleep, and likely she couldn't, he wouldn't either. It wasn't until Soap burst through his door, out of breath that he moved an inch from his position.

He shot up from his cot, looking at him with hope.

"We've got something. Someone in a base near the border of Verdansk reported a need for reinforcements. Bodies dropping like flies from a single prisoner they had held there." It had to be her. HQ had hacked into radio frequencies since she had disappeared, hence the amount of missions TF teams were being sent on recently. The team scurried into the aircraft waiting for them outside, Simon anxious and itching to get there as fast as he could.

When they landed he was the first one out, hearing gunshots from inside the facility. Reinforcements had shown up the same time, and before they could rush in they were shot down, directing the attention to them rather than the person currently fighting for her life.

She twisted an arm, ducking under the arm of another and sweeping him off his feet with her leg, dragging the other down and slamming his head into the floor. She shot the next two before flipping a man attempting to grab her over her back and onto the floor.

She heard footsteps, the barrel of her gun being the first thing to face the front door.

"Hey! It's just me! It's Ghost." He called out to her, immediately putting his hands up in surrender as they finished clearing the ground outside. He noticed her deep, uneven breaths, her eyes mistrusting as she kept her gun up and pointing at him.

"Ghost-" His hand silenced his teammate for a moment, slowly taking steps to her. He watched her eyes flicker as his hand gently rested at the top of her rifle, pushing it down at an unhurried pace, not wanting to trigger her with quick movements.

"It's just me.. lovie." She could've cried. His hands went to her shoulders as she dropped her gun off to the side.

"You're safe now. Nothin' to worry about." She felt herself relax, all of her adrenaline fading as she soon collapsed. Whatever he was saying to her was left unheard, her ears muting as her eyes closed from the sheer exhaustion and overexertion of her body.

"We need to get her to medical now." Price told him, Simon one step ahead as he held her in his arms and rushed out the door.

She didn't wake up for 3 days, and for a full 72 hours he had not left her side. He ate his meals in her room, slept in the uncomfortable hospital chair, and when he used the bathroom he waited until he couldn't hold it anymore and rushed that too, his hands still wet from the sink when he sat down. He was gone for a maximum 20 minutes for the entire day, and only that long because Price volunteered to sit with her as he showered, wearing the clothes he brought from him.

One night it was pouring rain, the drops slamming against the window with lightning brightening up the room every so often and powerful thunder that shook the building. She awoke to it, finally, her eyes crusty and her throat dry as a bone. Her memory failed her for a moment, shooting up in her bed in a panic that jolted Simon awake. He immediately rushed to soothe her with a gentle call of her name, dragging her attention to him as his hand cupped her chin.

"You're safe. You're in a hospital, recovering. Deep breaths alright? Like mine." He placed her hand on his chest, guiding her through mimicking his breathing until she was calm. He gave her a moment to take in her surrounds, her voice hoarse and raspy.

"How long was I out?" He handed her a cup of water, watching her gulp it down hastily.

"Fuckin' hell. Slow down you're making a bloody mess on yourself." He muttered, watching the water flow down the sides of her mouth and down her neck as she exhaled after finishing.

"You try getting the living shit beat and shocked out of you for a week straight. Had to seduce my way out. Dirty fuckers." She scowled at the thought, placing the cup on the table next to him.

"Did anyone..." He trailed off, too afraid to finish the sentence.

"No. No they didn't." Relief had lifted off his chest, his body relaxing for a moment before looking back up at her. His guilt never left him, and he wanted nothing more than to apologize.

"I-"

"I'll call HQ in the morning for the team switch-" "No!" He should've felt embarrassed by how quickly he cut her off. She looked at him confused. Is that not what he wanted?

"I'm sorry, for what I said, what I did... It wasn't right. The last thing I want is you off my team." She didn't understand it. He saw what she was, a monster. She killed and tortured how she pleased. "Why the sudden change of heart? Don't tell me you're getting soft on me." She teased, making him roll his eyes.

"It's not your fault. You need help... Y/N. Which is why with some fighting with those bloody wankers at HQ you're on leave with mandatory therapy sessions." Her eyes widened, and for once, she had something to be happy about. She could make her therapy jokes become real. Her breathed hitched for a beat, a sudden realization dawning on her.

Someone fought for her.

She felt the familiar pad of his thumb stroke under her eye, and it wasn't until she felt a wetness sinking into her mask that she realized she was shedding tears again.

"Comere lovie." Lovie. She liked that one, she was certain about that. He pulled her into a hug. For the first time in years, someone embraced her. She felt herself crack, every guarded aspect of her mind shattered in that moment as sobs flooded through her body involuntarily. Just like he promised himself, Simon was there to help her through it. His arms around her were tight, as if she could share the weight of the world she carried on her shoulders and he'd help her lift it until she could do it on her own.

"I need to get a nurse to check on you." He muttered in her ear, feeling her shiver at the feeling of his breath dusting over her skin. She only tightened her grip.

"Can we just, stay like this for a while. Please." Her voice was small, quiet, and he couldn't help but agree, maintaining a constant vice grip around her. She felt protected, and she needed that. So she clung to him as if her life depended on it, and he held her for as long as she needed him to. He felt her weight eventually slump against him, her arms dropping as her breath evened out to the same one he'd memorized from her 3-day slumber.

He laid her back, pulling the sheets up to make sure she didn't get cold before finding a nurse. They checked her vitals, blood pressure, wounds, everything.

"She's healing well. Everything looks good. We'll keep her one more night for observation and then we can discuss taking her home." He nodded, and she awkwardly smiled and walked out, shutting the door behind her. Simon sat back down in his seat, feeling more relaxed than he had before.

Healing well, looks good. Those words repeated in his head over and over. He leaned forward, pushing his mask up to the bridge of his nose as he hovered over her for a minute. The serene look on her face, even in the dark was enough to make his heart stutter. The way her hair, now in it's natural state, free from a balaclava, looked as it sat around her head like flowers in a meadow. She still wore a mask that covered the lower half of her face, but this was the most he'd get to see her for a while, so he took what he could get.

He pressed a slow kiss on her forehead, embracing the moment for what it was before he pulled his mask back down and released the breath he was holding, letting himself fall back asleep to the gentle exhales he heard from her.

~.~

Next thing she knew, she was holding a duffle bag with all her work stuff in it, Team 141 standing with her as she stood in her front door. They escorted her home, filling her in on her therapy sessions, when they start, how participation and progress were necessary for her to be allowed back in the field after her leave was up. Price had been assigned to live with her for the time being to make sure she was adjusting well and attending her sessions. She had half a year, which was enough, and it was mandatory to continue during work.

She dropped her bag off to the side behind the door before looking back at her teammates, Price flopping on her couch with a sigh as his eyes closed.

"Well, bye." She went to shut the door, only for Simon's foot to stop it from shutting.

"Fuckin' hell. No thanks for the people who saved your life?" Soap scoffed, watching her roll her eyes as she reopened the door.

"Thank you my saviors. What would I have ever done without you." Her voices was monotone, clearly bored and wanting to lay down for a bit.

"Alright then. Just don't get yourself killed in the next 6 months before we come back yeah." Simon grumbled, rolling his eyes too.

"You're not visiting?" She questioned, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"We wanna see a full transformation. Adds to the extra shock factor." Gaz smiled, watching her sigh before she painfully opened her arms for a hug.

"One for the road I guess." The embrace was horribly awkward and lasted a solid 2 seconds before she pulled herself back with a clear grimace.

"Do we get to see what's under the mask?" Soap pressed.

"Do you ever not ask questions? No? Then there's your answer." She quickly shut him down, watching him deflate in minor amusement before turning to Simon. He grunted as her arms wrapped around his middle, frozen in place for a minute.

"Hug me back dickhead." She muttered. His arms wrapped around her with a huff, though they both knew he didn't mind.

"Why the hell does he get a special hug." Soap whined, watching her pull away.

"Because he doesn't piss me off. Now bye." She shut the door in their face, kicking off her shoes and throwing a sock at Price's head. He groaned and turned, looking at her through bleary, groggy eyes.

"When's my first session again?"

The last part will be next!! I hope you enjoyed this one, more ghost fluff!! LOVIEEEEEE. My all time favorite. She's getting somewhere, finally getting some much needed help. Again I hope you guys enjoyed this part and the next one will be out fairly soon because I'm impulsive!! See ya next time!

@thaprilks @bowtruckleninja @almightywdm

[jifloulette]

Unknown Number

pairing ; Sung Hanbin x gn! reader genre ; angst to fluff preface ; they say “to love is to let go” and that’s exactly what your ex boyfriend, Sung Hanbin wanted from you as he wanted to give his idol career one last chance, and who were you to deny? Being an idol was Hanbin’s dream after all. It wasn’t an easy choice but you knew how hard who worked for it so you decided to let go. It’s only then after a year, when Hanbin finally debuted in the famous ZeroBaseOne, you receive a message from an unknown number telling you that he’s the one and only, Sung Hanbin and he asks you to meet up with him. word count ; 1,452 author's note ; first fic in this account, i am so proud of myself for this omfg? hanbin has been in my mind SO MUCH so i had to make this, hope you guys like it ^^

"How long has it been? Has it already been a year already?", you thought. It was already a year after you and Sung Hanbin's break up. It wasn't an easy year for you, unlike Hanbin's. He was thriving, he debuted in boys planet as the leader of ZeroBaseOne! You were happy of course, but you had always thought that 'what if' Hanbin decided to stay? It was selfish to think that, yet you still couldn't stop yourself from doing so. You needed to let go of him after all, being an idol was Hanbin's lifetime dream. You knew how hard he worked as a trainee, and now look at all his efforts finally paying off! You still had dreams of the night Hanbin told you that he wanted to give his idol career one last try, even if it meant ending things with you.

♡

"Baby? Could we talk?" Hanbin said, who were you to say no? "Remember the time where I said there was this new survival show coming up?" he told you, "Yeah! You auditioned for it, right? Tell me what happened!" You replied to him fearing for the worst. "Well, I passed. The next few weeks, we're going to film the first few parts of the show! But this means, I..I want to end things..", how those last few words rang in your mind over and over again. "Baby? Did you hear me?", Hanbin's words brought you back to reality, "Yes.." you quietly told the boy in front of you. "I'm sorry baby, I really am. But you know how much I'll regret it if I don't show up." Hanbin apologized to you. Why would he? You knew this day would come, I mean he was so talented, handsome, and kind. The industry would want someone like him. "It's alright, I knew this day would come anyways. Good luck on your journey Bin. I know you'll debut!" you told him, showing him a happy façade but he knew too well that you wouldn't be that happy. "I've already packed my things while you were at work, and I'll be leaving tomorrow. I love you y/n, I always will." Hanbin reminded you, was those even the exact words he said? You didn't know anymore, you were too overwhelmed to think.

♡

Hanbin's group already had their second comeback this year, they were succesful! Most importantly, Hanbin was shining. Everyone loved him, he was popular in the industry. You needed to be happy for him, yet you still missed him. You missed his hugs, kisses, you missed the times he would cook dinner for the two of you every time you went home from work, you missed the café dates you two always had, but those are nothing but a memory of what the two of you had. You've supported him throughout the show too, making sure to always vote for him every day! You were happy, He was happy. Wasn't it supposed to be a happy ending now?

♡

Usually, you'd forget about those memories a few days after remembering them, but now, you can't get him off of your mind? Why? Because you bumped into him and one of his members in the café the two of you had dates on. You always went there if you needed somewhere to breathe and relax, you knew the people working there after all. You thought that this time would be like the others, but no. The universe really aligned the two of yours schedules just to give you a bang in your heart to remember all those happy times you had. He was with Gyuvin, he was a the table you two always rushed to back then because it had the best view of the scenery, it had the best pillows on the seat which was so comfy. You would sit there too once in a while, it made you reminisce the memories you two had. You wanted to sit back there because the sky was extra beautiful this afternoon, but it looks like Hanbin had the same idea. The second you went inside the cafe, you immediately recognized this laugh, it was Hanbin's. You took a glimpse of where it came from and there he was, Hanbin. You decided to avoid him and just order your usual. A mocha and 2 cookies. Hanbin also took a glimpse of you as well, which destroyed the mood for him because the reason he went back to this cafe was to remember you, not to see you. Gyuvin noticed it as well, "Hyung? What's wrong? Why'd your mood suddenly drop?", the boy asked Hanbin, "Oh It's nothing! Just spaced out haha.." he told Gyuvin. You got your food and sat at a table across him. Hanbin couldn't stop himself from taking a couple glimpses at you and the both of you made eye contact quickly, which surprised you, you quickly looked away from him. Your visit to the cafe was quicker than usual because you didn't want to stay there longer with him there too.

♡

The second you stepped home, you wanted nothing more than to breakdown. You wanted to talk to him, maybe even ask him to visit your apartment, but you knew he couldn't, rumors might spread, and you couldn't risk that for him. When all you wanted to do was to lay down and cry, you heard two beeps from your phone. You checked it to see if it was from work, but it was from an unknown number.

♡

"I know you might not want to talk to me but I was happy to see you there, even if we didn't talk. You looked good today."

"I miss you, i've always missed you. The second we filmed the first episode, I wanted to kiss and hug you."

"Bin..? Is this you?"

"Yeah, it is. How have you been?"

"I've been doing okay, could be better. How about you?"

"I've been missing you lately, I know it's a bit straightforward but I really have."

"I love you."

"Why did you only chat to me now?"

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with me.. I'm sorry."

"Are you serious? You know how much I love you, you know how much I care for you. Why would you think things are different now? I've always supported you too, from the show until your debut and now"

"I know it was stupid and selfish to think that you would hate me, after knowing that you support me, I hate myself for that."

"I love you, I hope you still know. Every time I'm on stage, my mind is always wondering if you're doing okay."

"I'm free tomorrow too, maybe you'd want to meet up at the café? Even if it's for an hour."

"Sure, maybe at 3?"

"I'll meet you there, I love you.

♡

"Fuck, I'm meeting up with Hanbin tomorrow." you spoke to yourself, did you even want to meet up with him? Of course you did! But what happens if rumors arise? Whatever, wait no. That's selfish! Your mind was so overwhelmed, so you decided to sleep it off.

♡

It was the day you were going to meet up with Hanbin. You were nervous, but happy. The second you went inside, you saw Hanbin at the table you both loved sitting at and he waved at you with the same smile that made you fall in love with him. "Y/n! It's been so long, you look amazing.." Hanbin told you, "Thank you Bin, you look good too." you replied. "Do you want some coffee? I could get you a mocha and cookies, my treat?" Hanbin asked you and oh boy were you so happy, Hanbin still remembered what you ordered, at the same table, at the same cafe. "Sure! Thank you!" you replied to him. After a good 2 hours, he told you "Hey, if you need me, I'll always be a chat away, alright? I'll reply as fast as I can. Well, I have to go now. Thank you for sparing your time for you y/n, I love you" and gave you a quick peck on the lips. You were speechless, I mean Hanbin just kissed you, how long have you wanted to feel his lips on yours again? You didn't know but all you cared was that he did just now. When you came back home, there was another message on your phone from him.

♡

"Thank you again y/n for today, I'll always be here for you, okay? I love you"

♡

Maybe the two of you could go back to how things were back then. You were happy of that thought becoming a reality. How you loved Sung Hanbin so much.

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.

photos are not mine, credits to those who own them xo

[genericpuff]

The Extended Mishandling of LO's S3 Midseason Finale Premiere

Alright, so I had mentioned leading up to the release of the newest LO episode that my feelings regarding LO returning were pretty "meh". Not hyped, but not completely back of mind either. Just sort of a weird calm before the storm type feeling that could go either way.

I'm glad I got to have that moment of calmness because good god, this episode was an absolute shitshow. And honestly, I'm not surprised, for several reasons:

Rachel has never been good at maintaining a buffer, even back at the start of the series she only ever had 2-3 episodes ready ahead of her schedule which is NOT an ideal buffer for an originals series.

Rachel has never been good at writing, she's very "draw first write later" and has stated as such in interviews that when she gets 'stuck' on what she's writing, she'll just start drawing and fit the pieces in later.

Four months is NOT enough time to both rest, attend massive conventions, and work on improving a project while also getting buffer episodes ready.

Because of the FP episodes remaining locked over the hiatus, technically Rachel only needed to have ONE episode ready upon return for the newest FP release, not multiple like she'd usually need like in the past during the S2 midseason hiatus or the season finale episodes which would unlock those FP releases like normal - so for all we know, she could have drawn this episode literally last week, especially when the promo material was so last minute. Frankly I think it was REALLY stupid for whoever it was who decided to keep these FP episodes locked (whether it was her or WT, it was more likely WT) but you can read all I have to say about that in my review of the midseason finale episodes.

All that's to say, no, there was never any guarantee Rachel was going to somehow "turn around" the ride we're currently on. I know that many of the critics were hoping for that to happen, but with the circumstances of the hiatus mixed with Rachel's bad habits of putting her best efforts into the procrastination projects that aren't her actual comic (ex. the few original pieces and LO sketches she put out during the hiatus) it just wasn't in the cards. This is where the comic is at and this is where it will remain until it's over.

I want to also point something out about this episode that was... really glaring to me.

As with all of these hiatus returns, LO got priority advertising in the first two banner slots and push notifications AND a popup ad within the app. This is unsurprising, Webtoons is still trying to milk this thing for what it's worth.

I know a lot of people are gonna focus on the art, or the fact that WT is continuing to shill LO, but I wanna point out the part that WT implemented specifically - "NEW SEASON".

This is literally just false. At best I'd like to think some intern just messed up and thought this was a new season, but it's literally not, the episode designation still says "S3". Note that the creators only design the banner art, the actual labels on top are put there by Webtoons.

But at worst, this feels like blatant lying to continue to hide the fact that LO is ending. Mind you, Rachel and Webtoons have still not put out official posts stating that this is the final arc. There is NOTHING from either of them to communicate to the audience that the comic is ending next year. It feels like they're trying to avoid the topic altogether out of fear of losing the fanbase they still have, rather than hyping up the comic's end for those who have stuck around to see how it all wraps up. And honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if this was the case, considering they're now trying to funnel the fanbase into Penguin/Inklore with new marketing deals and the whole Rachel Smythe Presents thing. They're trying to make this seem like the beginning of something "new" when it's really just a quiet shifting of management (Penguin House).

But all that aside, let's actually get into the episode. It's one episode after 4 months, which is not standard for LO's hiatuses, typically FP episodes release on schedule (meaning free readers start hiatuses 3 weeks after FP readers do), the only time this has been an exception has been with the 2 week breaks because the whole point of those was to build a buffer (which you can't do if you're going ahead and releasing the FP episodes anyways). For extended hiatuses like these, usually free readers still get their FP episodes, but that wasn't the case here. That means Rachel technically only needed one episode ready for the comic's return, and it shows. It really fucking shows.

FROM HERE ON OUT THERE WILL BE FASTPASS SPOILERS REGARDING EPISODE 254. DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED !!!

As per tradition, we get a title that means nothing at all. It just says what we already know.

Our collective husband Zeus is dying, no thanks to the poison cupcake fed to him by Apollo. For those who don't remember, Apollo had tricked Zeus into eating the cupcake by making him believe it was from Hebe. We are fully aware that it was Apollo who poisoned him. Remember that for later in this review.

Right off the bat we're off to a hilarious start, both with a cryptid appearance from Apollo in the background (lmao) who is, for some reason, ALREADY returning to the scene of the crime he just committed because... who knows at this point. Apollo and Psyche know it was Apollo at this point, I might add, but I have no clue why Apollo is actually returning to the scene of the crime when he has no idea Eros and Psyche know.

Moving on from that, can we talk about this hilarious dialogue?

"We have to call a doctor! Let's call Asclepius!"

"No, we can't trust him! Gosh darn it, why are we only bothering to think of ONE doctor in this universe where we've seen more than one doctor?? Guess Zeus is just gonna die! What a horribly contrived situation this is!"

And that's literally how I can best describe most of this episode. Contrived. There is a LOT of manufactured drama in this that makes ZERO sense even on a surface level.

And what do you mean exactly, Eros? "What a terrible system!" Is this supposed to be a joke? Lampshading? We've seen Persephone go to the gynecologist. There are non-god doctors who tend to gods all the time here.

Eros just doesn't seem to be that pressed over this, he sounds like Ned Flanders and that's NOT a good way to open up a scene like this... let alone an episode people have been waiting four months for.

Anyways, after a few pointless reaction panels (again remember I have to cut a lot of what I show here for Tumblr image limitations but I promise you, I'm keeping as much important stuff as I can in this, there's just THAT MUCH filler at this point), Eros and Psyche confront Apollo and he is... good god.

There is... so much to unpack here.

First of all, remember those theories about how Rachel was clearly trying to write Apollo as this "secret twist villain" the whole time but it doesn't work because Apollo is simultaneously written as both a 'conniving villain' and a massive dumbass at the same time?

Well, I finally have a more appropriate term for him. He's your average red pill redditor - someone who thinks he's smarter than everyone else when really all he does is sit on reddit all day using big words incorrectly in arguments he gets himself into with a bunch of equally-air-headed dumbasses.

"You can't possibly understand the nuances of the Olympian political system," Apollo said proudly, a man who had, ironically and obliviously, run for president in a monarchy. The union of kettle and pot is eternal.

He's the Slappable Jerk but instead of it being a painfully hilarious impression, it's just painful and hilarious for all the wrong reasons.

this is so stupid because it's 1.) Eros pointing out how obvious Apollo's plan was, despite Apollo acting smart two seconds ago with a goddess who, mind you, has been a goddess for ten years, and 2.) patricide isn't even intrinsically linked to politics, there's nothing 'political' about a guy trying to kill his dad except in, idk, a monarchy, which again, Apollo has spent ten years trying to rise to power in as a president which is a completely different form of government.

If I wanted to be really granular with this, I'd like to think Apollo is making some kind of point about the critics who call out LO's whack as fuck political system (especially in the trial arc) - as if he's saying "well you're just a stupid reader and this is fantasy where you don't understand exactly what political system we're using, so shut the fuck up you stupid twig" - but I don't think it's meant to be that deep. I think it's just Rachel trying to write a smart character and then failing at it because she, herself, is not a smart writer. And I'm really inclined to believe that more than the theory about this being some kind of meta-narrative about the critics because this entire plotline is contrived and stupid down to its core.

I did not cut anything out here, that's the pacing. Leto literally just appears out of nowhere and uh oh spaghettio's, she has Kassandra! Remember Leto? The character we were led to believe was truly "pulling the strings" until she disappeared from the story completely after she realized that Apollo and Persephone weren't a thing, even going so far as to call out her own son for being a fucking dumbass? Well, she's back and once again she's being involved as some kind of "double agent" in this whole thing, even though we literally haven't seen her since halfway through S2.

"Mm yes, you're so stupid, falling into my trap! Even though you had no reason to remember Kassandra anyways because she's literally a mortal woman you just met and you yourself have committed acts of violence against mortals without a shred of care! I'm so smart! My plan is all coming together!"

We've never seen Apollo do anything except cry and poop his pants, the closest he got to being "powerful" was his attempts to murder Daphne (who he seems to have forgotten about in this "master plan" of his) but ultimately he's literally just a piss ant baby and there's no reason to believe that he could somehow outmatch the God of Love who can literally manipulate people's emotions and states of mind with his arrows. But yeah sure go off, you're so powerful and smart.

The worst part is, I can't even buy this as the narrative trying to be like "see how manipulative and conniving he is?" because it's just silly. We've SEEN this man cry with his victim complex, we've seen him say and do the DUMBEST things that don't lend to any amount of "intelligence" he may have, it comes across less as him being "smart the whole time" and more as him trying to sound smart but ultimately sounding incredibly stupid. And I can't even immerse myself into it and buy that maybe that's the point, because it doesn't feel like the point, it just feels like inconsistent writing, he doesn't feel like a 'threat', he's just monologuing.

Bad art and Apollo literally just repeating what Leto already implied so this is a waste of the audience's time.

This is the funniest panel in the whole episode because I can't tell if Apollo is supposed to be in the background (for some reason, despite him literally being in front of Eros and Psyche two seconds ago) or if he's in the foreground and just REALLY small for some reason. This is so off-putting. And of course, it's just Apollo explaining what we're ALREADY SEEING ONSCREEN.

You see, in addition to this episode being contrived, it also talks down to its audience a LOT by explaining exactly what we're seeing onscreen. It's like Rachel saw the criticisms about her not including enough to depict what's actually going on in her head and so she thought the solution was to spoon feed information over pictures that are already doing the job of explaining what's going on. Rachel really doesn't know how to write and even when she tries to implement changes that reflect criticisms that have been made of her writing, she somehow makes things worse because she completely misses the point of what those criticisms are trying to get across.

Anyways, without even trying to resist (for some reason) Eros and Psyche get sentenced to horny jail.

They're now trapped in a basement that Leto somehow has in her home. How do we know that?

HAHAHA FUNNY LAMPSHADING SO FUNNNYYYYYYY

Leto claims that they shouldn't try to escape because the dungeon is "enchanted", but she doesn't even bother to explain what that means. So they literally don't bother trying. They don't try to call her bluff, they don't try to teleport out of there, they literally just go "well shoot", shrug their shoulders, and accept their fate. Just like with the whole "we can't trust the only doctor we bothered to think of" situation, Eros and Psyche are turning out to be some of the stupidest, lowest-effort characters in this comic who literally can't be bothered to try because that would require too much brain power.

Notice how much time we've spent on this and we haven't gotten back to where the cliffhanger of the last episode left off? Well buckle up because there's still more to cover.

So it turns out Hebe was still inside with her dad, in FULL VIEW of what was going on through glass which is somehow COMPLETELY soundproof, and when Apollo steps inside, she just has no idea what happened. She never bothered to even look outside to see what was going on with Eros and Psyche, she's just been sitting on the floor staring at Zeus' dead face for what was likely several minutes, unless Rachel is seriously trying to convince us that conversation and hostage negotiation from earlier only took 2 seconds. The timeline is such a mess at this point that characters basically freeze in place as soon as they're not the focus of the scene.

Apollo rushes inside, acting shocked over the situation, and when Hebe asks where Eros and Psyche are (again, she could have just looked out the window at any time), he's just like "dur idk they just left lol" which Hebe just... buys, I guess.

That's just Persephone but yellow. She's even missing her beauty mark.

See how Apollo put his hand on Zeus' chest/shoulder by the way?

Apparently, despite Mr. Smarter Than Everyone Else trying to pretend it wasn't him, he's able to discern that Zeus is dying from a toxic and rare poison just from touching him. He doesn't even really seem to use his powers, he just touches him and goes "welp he's dead i guess lol don't bother asking me how I know that".

But oh nooo remember that note from before? Well gasp Apollo's gonna use it to frame Hebe! In front of no one else at all!

Hebe of course says she didn't write it, but Apollo continues to try and frame her anyways, even though, again, there's no one else present here, and so it effectively just becomes the most absurd form of gaslighting I've ever seen.

Again, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE HERE IN THE SCENE. He's just trying to claim she did it to absolutely no one at all, in the hopes of... what exactly? That she'll just take the fall for something she knows she didn't do? That she'll somehow be convinced? It's not like Hebe has the same thing going on as Persephone where she has a 'wrathful dark side' he could pin it on, this is just a criminal who just robbed a building pointing at the first person they see and yelling "YOU DID IT!"

All I'm saying is that Apollo would be really bad at Among Us. He'd be the type of player to kill someone, hit the report button, then claim yellow did it which, even if he DID convince the rest of the team, would still get kicked anyways as soon as yellow was proven through the eject to not be the imp and everyone would go "okay cool so yellow wasn't the imp, that means obviously it's purple self-reporting." It's a trick that doesn't even work anymore because of how old it is. Hebe isn't a child here, she's an 18 year old woman who should be fully capable of raising an eyebrow and wondering why Apollo is this quick to accuse her - almost like he's trying to hide the fact that he did it.

But Hebe can't catch onto this, just like Eros and Psyche, she has to act stupid for the sake of the plot.

At first I thought maybe Rachel was trying to do some "whodunit" scenario, but that doesn't work here because we already know who did it. And while there are stories that exist like that that pull it off (ex. Knives Out) the problem with trying to do this the way Rachel did is that the person being framed has to have this thing called motive. The reason why Knives Out and Glass Onion work so well is because the person who was murdered (or conspired against) is someone who is being targeted by multiple people who could all be the murderer. It's quite literally called out in Glass Onion as a form of smart lampshading. "It's like putting a loaded gun on the table, and turning off the lights."

But it doesn't work here because Hebe does not have motive. If you're going to attempt to frame a murder on someone, it has to be someone who would have reasonable motive to commit that murder, even if they didn't actually commit it.

And who among Zeus' children has motive?

What about the war-mongering bloodthirsty god of war who has been regularly sentenced to time in the Mortal Realm to fight in wars in which he's been regularly injured?

What about the chaos-seeking wrathful goddess who would do it to get revenge on the parental figure who cast her aside, or even just for the fun of saying she did it?

Why try and pin it on Hebe, the doting daughter of Zeus who's only had a collective of maybe 20 panels in the entire comic?

But then I realized... it's not Knives Out, it's the fucking Lion King.

Which is just as contrived - if not more - than the assumption this was gonna be some attempt to frame Hebe. It's not. He's literally just trying to keep her from assuming it was him. He could have just as easily played dumb without calling attention to the note but he intentionally went out of his way to try and be Scar from The Lion King , while completely missing the point of why that scene worked in the original movie.

Scar wasn't trying to 'frame' Simba for Mufasa's murder. He was trying to hide the murder, while also attempting to get the only heir to the throne out of the picture, so he passed the guilt of the death onto Simba - a child who, unlike Hebe, wouldn't have the ability to rationalize or realize his uncle his a scumbag - who then ran away from home because he was too terrified to face his family for what happened, assuming that it was all his fault when it wasn't.

That's not how this is panning out here. Hebe is the now 18 year old daughter of Zeus, and not one of his only children. She doesn't even fit into the whole "sons overthrowing their fathers" prophecy like Aries would. Apollo is literally just being a big idiot here by saying "well I'm gonna give you a headstart to run away, because if you stay, I might hurt you" (which btw, should be MORE of a smoking gun that Apollo did it??)

And again, it's all so contrived so that the plot can move forward. "Well I'm going to frame you for this murder, but y'know, you should just leave, I'm not gonna try and press it further lmao"

Again, Apollo is a fucking idiot here, because he just attempted to frame someone who has NO MOTIVE to harm Zeus, to absolutely NO ONE at all who would side with him, only to let her go which would leave her to question why Apollo would try to accuse and harm her in the first place before considering other options. And through ALL this he claims he's the smart one, which I can't even be bothered to "love to hate" because it's written so poorly.

And really it all comes down to how everyone else behaves in relation to Apollo that makes it so stupid and unbelievable. Apollo, you're not smart just because all the characters around you are intentionally being written to be as stupid and non-confrontation as possible. If you can only write a smart villain by making everyone else stupid, you haven't written a smart villain, you've written a dumbass whose victory only happens due to contrived plot convenience. It's not even done well like in Glass Onion, it's just bad writing, full stop.

And who does he call to report this emergency? The satyr police? His son the doctor?

No.

The media. Literally just "hello, the media?? I need your best journalist here stat!"

I need you to understand, even if he were calling a tabloid magazine like The Weekly Nark, you don't just... call a journalist to report a murder. These are not the actions of someone who's trying to absolve himself of guilt, these are the actions of a complete dumbass trying to get news coverage of his trophy kill who would be better off just playing dumb instead of trying to play smart. Even Walter White wasn't this fucking stupid despite all the times he fell on his own sword, Apollo is literally just instigating suspicion towards himself for no reason at all. He's self-reporting so hard and worst of all, you can't even take any of this seriously because of how corny it is. There's no dramatic tension, no stakes, it's just a bunch of characters performing in a really bad stage play and reducing every conflict to "well I guess Zeus is just dead now because no one's bothering to make an effort to stop Apollo or ask questions lmao"

It's truly the epitome of "this plot wouldn't exist if characters would just talk to each other."

But finally, FINALLY we mention the thing this episode is named after, the transition point to Persephone.

Just like with the midseason finale episode, there's a lot to cover here, so I'm gonna get more into it in a part two post.

That said, you can see already this is the messiest, most contrived bullshit to ever wind up in LO. It's trying so hard to be smart and it just comes across as a bunch of toddlers in the world's worst stage play rendition of Clue. None of what was done here was in any way dramatic or tense, it's just a bunch of characters infodumping shit we already know, trying to set up new plot threads that don't make any sense, and allowing one another to get away with what they're doing because they don't bother to even try.

It's completely manufactured, contrived nonsense. It's not "smart", it's not "so dumb it's brilliant", it's just dumb.

[newkatzkafe2023]

@lara-legomonkiekid

Can I have part 2 Y/N pregnant?

Reminder this is the genderbend version😯

(Lmk Wukong) This was a very eventful pregnancy. It seems like her antics Amplify Since the Two of you found out about your cub. First of all, there is a wire. Her belly was so big was because there's not one not two But three of them in there. And it seems like They are already active just like their mama. And not only that they make the monkey queen wanna eat everything. Her food your food mk's food You name it I mean you can't really Blame her because she's literally eating for other people but it's still quite Out of control. Happiest day of your life was when the triplets Your are two sons and daughter were finally born and they We're noisy cherpee and they get Into everything. Overall, they were healthy, very little beans. Who you love very much and you secretly glad for the monkey. Queen's flirty clingy ass and you love her as well.

(NR Wukong) Holy sh*t if you think she was clingy before you ain't seen nothing yet. Since the beginning Of her pregnancy, she demanded With you at all times whether it be. to the corner store to the men's bathroom which got you kicked out of the mall once. She's was on you like white on rice. And if you try to go somewhere without her. She'll throw a big ass tantrum and i'm gonna shoot look like Are jerk especially when it happens in public. So you kept her inside with you for the remainder of the pregnancy. I say and that's when her water broke. When the cub was born, it was a cute little girl, but she chirped a lot. Neither of you would understand why. Wukong Has tried multiple methods But she just won't let up that's when you decided to give It'll try and the little girl was suddenly silent. You guys's daughter stop chirping and crying immediately the second she was in your arms. Now that explains why the monkey Queen had craved you so much. Because now you have to deal with another clingy girl in your life. At least this one is cute.

(HIB Wukong) The pregnancy was fairly okay to be honest. It's just that she threw up a lot. And I mean a lot there was barely anything. She would be able to keep down. It seems like the Cub was already a picky eater. It seems to only accept pomegranates, peaches and Sesame balls you Yourself would eat. Interesting enough the cub came out a week early a cute little boy. He was fairly small but it seemed like it didn't stop them from trying to do big kid things. You both have to keep an eye on him a lot. But he was the greatest gift you've both received and you hope maybe you can convince her to give another one.

(Mk Reborn Wukong) This woman is a pain in your ass. Hers mood swings were out of control, and that is really saying something. She always blames you for her condition. But she clings on to your arm. So hard blood is getting caught off from there. And where's the vault? Yeah, I'm worst of all. She won't eat food unless it's yours it's like she's making you mad on purpose. But it seems like this is making her a little more emotional because she vents and cries to you about all of the issues. In her life and her insecurities about her relationship with you. With shocks you to the max but you know better than to say anything. Finally, it was time for the cup to be born, and that was like the worst 12 hours of your life. She was screaming at you for doing this to her. But she's the one who wanted to fight you. She's the one who wants to know what position you fire in. And she wouldn't give up stop by one broken hand later. You, too, had a little girl. She was just as feisty and war driven as her mama. And it seems like she got some of her possessive traits, too. One time, your daughter climbed on to your shoulder and hissed at her mother for sitting way too close to you. And of course, her mom took that as a challenge and hissed the right back. Great, now you have two hissing girls back to square one for you. But deep down, you wouldn't have it any other way

(Netflix Wukong) You guys are so freaking excited about your future family. You always make sure She was happy comfortable and safe. You mostly took up her job as protecting the villages from stray demons and you make quick work of them. So you can get back to your monkey queen especially when she's hungry. This pregnancy helps her open up to a lot more because she voices her worries about being a capable mama. But you always dispel those dark thoughts by telling her know that she would be amazing and she's got you to help her too. This always Makes her feel better and it was about time too. The club was ready to both were granted too little boys. They were rowdy loud and all over the place. But you both love them very much. But it's up to you to keep the queen from spoiling her two princes

Feel Free to Reblog

[saxandviolins77]

what are your favorite episodes of g1 featuring the constructicons?

Can I make a rank? I'm gonna make a rank!

Only episodes where the Constructicons are absolutely essential to the plot, if they are only in the background or only have a throwaway line it doesn't count!

From worst to best:

7.Secret of Omega Supreme

I know, I know, controversial! This episode is truly more about the titular character than the Constructicons and it introduces my least favorite origin for them. Not a bad episode and it has some cool scenes involving my boy Devastator, but eh... Don't care!

6.The Autobot Run

This episode has a laughably bad premise, even for G1! But dare I say, the character interactions and quips save this from total oblivion, and the Constructicons aren't an exception to that! So many great interactions and lines (Long Haul saying "Finally! We're gonna make little Autobots out of big ones AHAHAHA!" and "at last, conflict!", how can you not love it?). Devastator also has a great fighting sequence! You know, great as in stupidly fun, like him hitting the Autobots as if they were bowling pins. I remember rewatching the scene where they de-combined Devastator over and over again, for some reason I was obsessed with the delivery there.

5.The Core

This episode is shit from the ass in terms of plot, like... We already have a better episode... With the same "plan of the week". I just wish this one focused more on the "Devastator is now an Autobot weapon" side of the plot and was better paced.

That being said, I still adore the Constructicons here! Their interactions are awesome and I love how this established them as friends, like... Waow... I also adore how big of a focus Devy has, he even gets to save the day!

4.City of Steel

The episode where the Constructicons shit-talk each other, make an alligator, and Devastator does King Kong. Perfect.

Not only do I love their banter but this episode has my favorite Scrapper scene: him forgetting the word "damage" for no reason... Like WHY? Love my ADHD king. This is also the episode where Mixy has a stutter... More than perfect.

3.Heavy Metal War

Introduction episode, what can I say?

Despite them being the secondary plot, I very much adore them here. This episode establishes Scrapper as their leader AND introduces the Dinobots as one of their rivals (their superior rivals if I say so myself.) I also love how Devastator comes in as a surprise, like WOW they combine into a big robot, how novel, I'll buy a toy! I also adore how they defeat Devy by making him shit his pants in fear of another combiner... Girl, you're so pathetic...

2.Triple takeover

My favorite G1 episode... And it just so happens to have the Constructicons there! What a joy!

I absolutely love traitorous Constructicons as a concept, these guys do not care about Megatron at all ahahah.

This is also one of the episodes where we have Scrapper building a THRONE out of near-dead Autobots and sitting on it... You're awesome, Scrappy...

Of course, the best part is the Constructicons busting in on Blitzwing and demanding him to own his part of the deal... And the fucking idiot curses off the six guys who turn into a giant robot... Great stuff.

Also... How did Megatron defeat Devastator? Is he that pathetic? My big loser is actually a loser?

1.The Master Builders

THE PERFECT CONSTRUCTICON-FOCUSED EPISODE! If you're going to watch something with them, watch this one.

I love moody Grapple and reserved Hoist, such a cute duo of characters already AND THEN you put the Constructicons with them? Perfect!

This is also the episode where the Constructicons are shown to be two-faced bastards who change on the turn of a dime, and well, I find this better than brain-washing, sue me. I also love their personalities here, cheery Scrapper casually convincing Grapple to let them work on his project, and then acting the same after they decide to betray Grapple on Megatron's command... Wtf is your problem.

I also adore the Constructicons making Grapple do their work for them, ahahah. They remind me of older engineers/technicians messing with the new guy at work for kicks and giggles.

I also love how much of fuckups the Constructicons are... Good job on conspiring behind Megatron's back then immediately getting caught red-handed and making up a fucking lie on the spot, you're terrible.

Devastator is also at his peak here. This is the episode that inspired my characterization of him... He just messes with the Autobots and is outsmarted by them and defeated by the Constructicons' own work... The irony... Is rich. Like, how much of a jerk can he be?? He laughs at Optimus Prime, he dismisses Cliffjumper and he SMIRKS when he falls on the ground and somehow grabs warpath.

I need him dead. Immediately.

[uldren-sov]

On the dotted line

just an idea that wouldn't leave me alone. getting THE TATTOO. naturally this got WAY AWAY FROM ME but their dynamic is just so fun to me at this stage so I had to really go for it you know. some pre-relationship Camy and Seven. ~2k words. Little @infamous-if fic Camy Rose is mine! The band and Seven are canon

Nerves that feel equal parts firecracker and fear light up her skin as Camy Rose is dragged along the dirty sidewalk. Maybe she should protest more, dig her heels in more, grab her best friend by the shoulders and shake him until he saw reason, but there was something about Seven Lawless that always keeps her along for the ride. So, instead of trying to sober up, trying to come to her senses, and trying to tell him this was his worst idea to date, she lets herself be dragged by the cuff of the leather jacket she stole from him toward a hole-in-the-wall tattoo parlor they saw a street away from their latest gig.

It was finally going to happen, and it was going to happen tonight.

Her fault, really, for years she's been saying that she always wanted a tattoo and with the success of their latest show Seven concluded that this was the best time to get one. When she shot that down, he doubled down to sweeten the deal: if she got one, then so would he. "Design pending," he clarified. And after a few drinks, mixing and matching alcohol? Sure, why not make a decision she could regret for the rest of her life.

"Yeah, let's do it," she said. With a cheer and a tug on her wrist she was immediately dragged away. But that was back at the after-party and not on the way to the actual store. Whatever buzz of bravery she had because of the alcohol started to fade, replaced by those building nerves.

"I'm not letting you chicken out this time!" He says, his wild, glittering, gaze matched only by his grin. It's infectious and despite everything, she had to admit, it was a great night to do something stupid like this, so long as she shared it with him. It was a great show and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't down to celebrate. With this paycheck she could check off rent being paid, bills being paid, and still have some money left over to play with.

They're even invited back next week. She had no excuses left, no reasons left to worry.

"I'm not chickening out!" She says, deciding in that moment to just say fuck it and jump off that cliff along with him. Matching his step, his gait, his eyes, his energy, she slips her hand in his, clutching on tight. "So long as you're not."

Fingers lace with hers and she can't help but still feel tipsy as she spills with laughter, tugging him to a stop after hearing Jazzy calling out to them. Seven swings back to face her as she swings their hands between them, warmth racing up her arm at the gesture. A furrow of his brows and she knows what he'll say as he leans in. More and more he's pulled weird reactions from her even when they haven't acted any different. Like now, they close the distance between each other and that warmth burns into something hotter, something heavy that settles on her cheeks. It's so dumb! She blames the alcohol as she chuckles a little, trying to disperse the heat in her veins.

His bandana presses into the crown of her head as she tries to hold his bright gaze in the blurry space between them. "No way. We're doing this and when we look at this tattoo, we're going to remember that this was the night that everything changed," he vowed, giving her hand a squeeze.

Her heart betrays her as it stutters in her chest. It's not the first time she's caught between not wanting anything to change between herself and her friends, and desperately wanting a change just between the two of them. And the realization that maybe, just maybe, she's wanted that change for a long time now is terrifying. If she thinks too long about how it feels as they gently sway there, how the tip of his nose brushed over hers, how his breath hits her lips, she'll do something stupid, she knows, so instead she screws her face up and presses him back with her head. She burns pathetically now that there's some space between them and even in her tipsy state she starts to wrestle down those thoughts again.

"So dramatic," she rolls her eyes with a grin. "Or this is just going to be a normal tattoo, or like, our gateway tattoo to a bunch more and that's it." She nudges her shoulder into his side and he squirms.

"All I'm hearing is that I'm going to have the biggest 'I told you so' of my life when we're older and it turns out I was right," he says, hip checking her in retaliation. Stumbling away a step she bursts out laughing and lets go of his hand, shaking off the sparkling warmth in her fingertips before she waves over the rest of their friends who finally caught up.

---

A half-dozen bad ideas later and all six of them finally managed to pull away from all the designs hung on the walls of the cramped store. Since it was decided there was no way to perfectly represent this moment -- and we'd need way more time to design it out, or so Seven had said -- they both settled on something that felt simpler but somehow even more important: their friendship. They'd sign their initials on each others wrists, like they were sealing some kind of evil contract to always be together, through these moments and others.

Camy clocks the wary glance from the artist as they hand them both sharpies. She has the clarification, that, no, this isn't a couple thing, chambered on the tip of her tongue, but Rowan is quicker on the draw.

"Name a more iconic duo than you two and being mistaken for a couple," he says as Seven shakes his head with a scoff, already rolling up his sleeve.

"Iris and Devyn," she quips back as Jazzy aww's teasingly. She grins in the face of the bird Iris flips her way and Devyn's blush, before walking toward the actual station instead of the pseudo-waiting area at the front of the store. As she and Seven take their seats beside each other she idles a moment, staring after the artist setting up further back in the store, allowing the nerves settle in her gut again as she looks after the needle gun, the black ink.

"Hey," Seven's voice is in her ear as she draws her attention back. "Which arm are you sacrificing?" He smiles and it's magic how her nerves just seem to immediately burn off. She hunches closer to him.

"Right one." She nods.

"Really? Main hand?"

"Mic hand, too."

"Wow," he drawls, "this really is special to you, huh?" She snickers and nudges him.

"Big talk from the guy who jumped at the chance to have my name on his skin," she says, looking from under her eyelashes for effect. For a moment his back straightens, his eyes widen, and her heart stalls, waiting for ... something. As quickly as he reacted, it's gone, and in the next heartbeat she remembers how to breathe.

"Someone had to. It's not like other people are exactly lining up to make it happen, Camy," he shoots back with a smirk as her mouth drops open in faux outrage. "You're lucky I'm so generous and taking one for the team."

"First of all! Rude!" She scoffs into a laugh as he grins in her face. "I've had - so many dates, with so many people." He snorts, unimpressed as he rips the top off his sharpie.

"Your last girlfriend was when you started college and that lasted for roughly a month," he says without missing a beat. Weird.

"So what?"

"That was like 11 months ago."

"Well I have a full schedule: focusing on my studies and our band and my job."

"You're really going for the 'I'm focusing on my career' excuse?"

"And I've been on dates since then, by the way! It's not my fault they don't get me."

She meant it as a joke but as Seven presses her hand back at her wrist to start writing he suddenly cuts his gaze to her over his shoulder. There it is again, that stutter, that weight, that heat that blooms under her skin. Because she sees it, but she doesn't know if she really sees it or if she just wants it to be there, that look of his that seems to say 'but I do.'

She can't think about that now. No, she won't think about that now. Especially not when they're sitting so close, not when Seven can feel her pulse race under his fingertips, and not when he's looking at her like that. Like he sometimes does when waking up after a long night of songwriting and hanging out at her apartment, wrapped and tangled up in each other. That heat settles heavy on her skin again as she searches his suddenly dark green eyes.

She should ask him to be her roommate. No, she must still be tipsy. Would that be a bad idea? It seems like a bad idea.

Or the best, she thinks, glancing down to his mouth.

The sharpie cap clatters to the floor and she blinks out of it, pulling back -- when did she lean so far in? -- as she mirrors a sheepish grin from Seven.

"Yeah, well," he suddenly clears his throat, glancing to her and away quickly as he scoops up the sharpie top. "Guess you have to keep trying."

"Not that this is going to help," her smile is shaky in return as the vanishing heat leaves her winded and off balance, despite the alcohol. "How about you, what hand?"

"Left, my mic hand." A small but long-standing debate between them hanging in the background of his declaration.

"Our tattoos will even fit together if we hold hands." She gasps sarcastically as she smiles teasingly his way. An unimpressed narrow of his eyes and Seven suddenly crowds over her arm as she feels a pinpoint of pressure on her wrist.

"I changed my mind. I'm drawing a dick so that everyone knows what you are," he states. She yelps and fights her hand free from his hold amidst their chorus of laughs. A short back and forth and he reveals that the pressure on her skin was just the back of his pen. Seven crows over just how much she fell for it as she grudgingly scrapes together what dignity she has left.

They joke until they finish the draft of their tattoos. She lines their wrists up, black ink on olive and russet skin, the start of something permanent. If she were more sentimental like Seven the moment might mean something more. He might say something about the two of them literally making a mark on each other, or something like it's not only their names but their handwriting, something as unique as a fingerprint, and it's on each others skin.

CR SD

But she's not. She saves all that for him and for those moments where they write and sing in a way she doesn't dare to with anyone else. Instead, as the artist returns, she just says the truth in the simplest way she knows how:

"Forever?"

"Forever."

They hold their hands tight as the needle whirs to life.

[ruyakasunshine]

Thank you for your last post about F1 fans. At times I wish everyone would just chill the fuck out. I understand being more prone to hype up ones fave and whatnot.

I even get the whole oh I hate Max winning all the time, as if we didn’t have the same with Lewis while he was constantly winning.

I’m not even surprised that people forgot what happened last season, two weeks or 5 years ago, I feel this sport suffered from recency bias like no else. But in a sport that lives off stats that are all still public and easy to look up and fucking Wikipedia… well I guess that might be to much to ask of some people.

At the end of the day I just don’t get why people worry so much about things they dislike. Just block everyone and everything and move on.

Hype up your fave and call it a day.

Hey!

I completely agree on the fact that people need to chill big time. It's honestly starting to become dreading opening the comment section under any f1 related post because I know that we're going to have the same discourses over and over again. And the worst part is that they are usually extremely biased discourses, so it's not even like the debates are productive.

And same, do I wish to hear something other than the Dutch anthem every weekend? yes. Do I wish to see a battle for championship, or even for p1 for at least one race? Absolutely. But those things aren't under Max's control. He is fast, he wins. That's it. And until any other team can make a rocket ship that can compete with the rbr one, with a driver that can control said rocket ship, that's how it's going to be. And it isn't like we can't appreciate the sport either way, there are 19 other drivers who all compete and try to battle the one before them for their place, watch them.

Honestly, it is sort of crazy to experience the recency bias first hand, and I can barely blame people to fall into it. I'm pretty new in this sport as well, so I cannot pretend to have the best takes when it comes to drivers' performances without looking into other peoples' analysis, but I guess that it is easy to fall into a narrative so well crafted by the big medias.

And as you said, with the stats, and wikipedia, it's easier to fall into it. The first thing I understood when I got into this sport is that every tiny bit of a detail counts in a race : the weather, the performances of the top teams (it's easier to be p1 if the top team is having issues), the performance and the quality of the car (which the driver doesn't necessary have control over), etc. Context is vital in this sport, the final ranking can only say so much. But people ignore it so easily and pretend to be specialists at analyzing the performance of athletes (who have trained their whole life for this sport, by the way) from the comfort of their couch, without taking any of these into consideration. Especially when it comes from a place of bias.

[spectrechosts]

The Cruel Ship's Captain

A chance meeting of two cursed souls, so very long ago.

Full Series

Senna is hungry again.

She shrouds herself in a cloak and makes her way to the port, as has become her habit in this age of piracy. Travelers from all around, known by none here. A drunk stumbles out of a tavern and no one ever sees them again- Maybe they fell off the dock, it happens.

She's long past the days of pretending she does a noble thing, feeding on the seedier humans. She's worse than the worst of them. She does it because it's easy. Even if someone investigates- and they won't- it'll never link back to her ever so dignified family, convinced she belongs even though she's in none of the portraits and looks nothing like them.

Ugh, she gets so mopey when she needs to feed. It's not like she chose to become this.

And besides, she can't just not eat. She's tried, it only makes things much, much worse when she finally gives in. You only need to massacre a village once to get it through your head that the monster will feed regardless of what you want; better to just quietly indulge every few weeks rather than uproot your entire life twice yearly.

"Now what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Someone snatches her cloak off her shoulders and slams her against the wall of the alley.

Impossible, she thinks, as she collides with the stone. Nobody sneaks up on her, she would hear it! Is she slipping?

This is bad, this is so dreadfully bad- She can't be seen here, her feeding can't be thrown off like this, the whole thing is a catastrophe. She struggles, but the pirate is stronger than her, pinning her shoulder to the wall with her off hand as she lifts a jeweled earring with the barrel of her pistol.

"These look expensive. You should be more careful." She says. "There's all kinds of scum 'round these parts, you know."

She doesn't have time for this this isn't the plan she needs to get out of here and hide and come back to feed another time.

"Let go of me." She hisses, voice layered with hypnotic charm as her eyes go dark. "Go back to your ship and shoot yourself."

The pirate blinks, shakes her head as if to clear it of the imparted command, and then shrugs.

"Anything for a lady." She says, and then she pulls open her coat and shoots herself through the heart.

"Ow." She grunts, rolling her shoulders and letting her coat fall closed. "Hurts even when you know it's coming."

Oh, damn it all.

"That's right girlie, don't bother screaming." The pirate says, as Senna huffs and thumps her head back into the stone wall. "Ain't gonna be louder than that, and ain't anyone 'round who cares."

That much is true. A few humans peek into the alley as they pass, but none intervene. It's why she feeds here. And presumably…

The pirate's fangs sink into her neck, and then her eyes go wide and she recoils.

"Augh!" She cries, spitting onto the ground. "What the fuck?!"

It's why she feeds here too.

"Alright, so we're both stupid." Senna says, tired. "I haven't seen another of our kind in centuries, what's your excuse?"

The pirate is still retching, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. "Centuries?" She asks, and Senna groans.

She got caught out by a fucking fledgling.

"Oh god, how old are you?" She asks.

"Twenty-nine."

Please please please please-

"Twenty-nine as a vampire or-?"

"Oh, uh… three."

Goddammit.

"Fuck me." She says, and the pirate barks a laugh, and then winces at the pain still radiating through her chest.

"Love to, but ah- Just about blew my tit off, so…" She pauses, waiting for Senna to maybe say something. "Drinks?"

"Ugh!" Senna huffs, and she turns tail and leaves.

"Hey, don't be like that! This is great!" The pirate says, following her. "I've been at sea for ages, I'm starved. Two of us together? None of these assholes stand a chance, we could feast!"

"No!" Senna snaps. The girl is an idiot and a liability. "There will be no feasting, I live here, you boorish menace!"

The pirate shrugs. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"If a slew of people get killed by vampires," Senna seethes, "the rest will start looking for vampires, idiot."

"Sure, that's why you leave after."

"I can't leave!"

"Why not?" The pirate asks, and Senna pauses.

It's not as if her family is truly hers. It's not as if she allows herself human friends, or goes outside for any reason but to feed. Her only attachment to this place is that it's where she is.

"Drinks? Yeah?" The pirate says with a growing smile, and Senna allows herself to be dragged along.

~

"Cap'n." Nods a stout man as the pirate (Alice, she called herself) sits Senna down with her on a tavern bench.

"Bill." Alice responds, then jerks her head back at Senna. "Senna. She'll be joining us for a bit."

Bill grunts, and Senna quirks an eyebrow. "I will be? Am I being press-ganged?"

"What? Nahh." Alice scrunches her nose and shakes her head. "Press ganging implies I mean to put you to work. We're taking you on as a passenger."

"And if I don't want to be taken as passenger?"

"Well, then we're kidnapping you." Alice says, with a wry grin. "But don't that sound so unpleasant?"

Senna turns her nose up at that with a "Hmph!"

"Everyone back on the ship?" Alice asks, ignoring her.

"All accounted for 'cept us in here." Says Bill. "Is she..?"

"She's like me." Alice says, and she puts an arm around Senna and whispers into her ear as if she's murmuring something sordid to a conquest.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen here, miss." She says, licking her lips. "When I give the signal, me, Bill, those two men over there- Jim and James, also on my crew- we're going to grab some nice girls and take them back to my ship for me to eat."

God, is this really how she feeds? Just, smash and grab? Right out in the open?

"Now, you can sit here and pout and go hungry until we reach the next port; not too long a trip, I like to make little stops for myself before our main destination, let the rest of the crew relax somewhere I haven't made a mess. Or-"

"Yes, yes, I was already at the docks to grab someone, imbecile." Senna hisses. "Some of us value subtlety. Not letting people see us feed, for instance."

"Okayy, touchy. You've already been seen here with me, grab someone or don't. Ready?"

Senna grumbles and scans the room. There's a girl with a pretty neck over in the corner, hanging off some giant brute of a sailor. If she has to pick someone here…

"Ready."

Alice vanishes, and a swarm of bats surges toward the bar and reforms into her. She grabs a woman and tears her throat out with her teeth, gulping down blood and throwing the whole tavern into a frenzy.

"That's the signal?" Senna whines, as the other pirates spring into action, snatch frightened patrons and drag them away. All eyes are on Alice, cackling like a madwoman as she shrugs off pistol rounds and breaks the arm of someone foolish enough to rush her with a knife.

Senna walks briskly to her target, cowering behind her beau. "Forget about the woman behind you." She orders, and the man looks into her black eyes and lowers the protective arm he'd had around her. "You, follow me."

The girl follows her like a lost puppy. It doesn't even look like a kidnapping, with any luck, no one will remember Senna was here at all. Alice is still wreaking havoc, bones shattering under her fists as the humans try and fail to subdue her.

And the blood.

There's so much blood. The thick, rich, cloying tang of it in her nostrils makes Senna dizzy. Her stomach growls angrily, and she just about loses herself and devours her girl on the spot.

But not yet.

"You!" She hisses at another girl, hiding under a table. "Follow."

She leads the two of them outside, taking them down the waterfront until she can see where the other pirates are struggling to get their last victim aboard their ship while some would-be hero accosts them.

That's rare, in this part of town. Senna would be impressed, if not for the fact that she's grumpy hungry now.

"Hey." She says to the interloper, and he glances back at her for just a moment, and that's all she needs. "Swim to the horizon."

Then he's gone, swimming out to his death.

"What in the hell wassat?" Says Jim or James, she doesn't really care which.

"That would be our new passenger." Says Bill. "Take her and her guests to the captain's quarters with the rest, we're leaving."

"The captain?" Senna asks, climbing up to the ship's deck. She was still fighting, last she saw.

"Flies on a hundred pestilent wings, my sweet." Says Alice, coalescing before her out of a swarm of vermin. She takes her last captive from Bill and hefts her over her shoulder, then beckons Senna below deck. "Come! Eat with me, we'll have a grand old time!"

Senna isn't sure about a grand old time, but she really needs to feed now. She follows her, down to the lowest deck, where the sun never touches. Alice's cabin has many of the luxuries one would expect of a pirate captain's quarters, though completely devoid of any light sources. The other two victims are already here; they squirm and whimper in the dark, bound at the wrists and ankles and rendered blind by their human eyes.

Senna's charmed duo need no such restraints. She pushes one to the floor and falls upon her, sinking her fangs into the soft flesh of their neck. Shakes her head violently, tears open the vein, lets blood spill forth into her mouth; hot and salty and metallic on her tongue.

The monster within her demands more, urges her to bite again, harder- not just fangs but human teeth, made for ripping into meat, gouging out chunks and choking them down, bloodied and raw.

She can hear Alice chuckling. "Messy eater. Always the proper ones, innit?" She hums to the girl she's drinking from. "Maybe I'll toss you to her, you're so afraid of me." She says, and she latches back onto the girl's open vein as she cries.

Hours pass, in the inky darkness. Senna eats and eats until she's full and lethargic and guilty, the stench of blood clinging to her in the aftermath. She didn't even drink most of it from that first girl, just let it puddle on the floor. What a waste.

She groans loudly.

"Are you always so pissy about a good meal?" Alice asks her, sated and languid on her bed. "Get off the floor, come join me."

"I didn't have to kill that man at the dock. He was trying to do a good thing. I could've just told him to run away, forget what he saw."

"Please, if you didn't kill him we would have. Who cares?"

"I care!" Says Senna. "I don't like killing, I just- I get so hungry. It's like I'm not even me anymore."

"Aww, poor little vampire." Alice coos, mockingly. "Come to bed."

"Fuck you."

"That's the idea." She says, smug. "We both prefer girls, yeah?"

Senna grumbles and rolls face down.

"How are you so squeamish about this? You made it sound like you were old. Should be used to it by now."

"Nobody should be used to being a monster." Spits Senna.

"Careful." Alice chuckles. "Get that stick any further up your ass, might stake yourself."

"Ugh." Senna huffs. She can hear Alice get up, walk toward her and sit. She drapes a blanket over her and rubs her back through it.

"So, what?" She asks, joking tone absent from her low voice. "You feel bad about yourself until you can't help but eat someone, then you go feel bad about it 'till the next time?"

"…Essentially." Senna says, wrapping the blanket tight around her. "I don't know. I don't want to kill people, but…"

"Don't wanna die?" Alice asks, and Senna nods tightly. "Right, who could blame ya?"

"The people I eat, presumably."

"Ehhh, fuck 'em, they're dead." Says Alice. "How often you eat?"

"I can get by with one every couple months, if I save my energy."

"Goddamn, no wonder you made such a mess. Must be starved to death, eating like that." She says. "Tell you what: I kill more 'n that just going about my business-"

"How delightful."

"Oh hush ya miserable cunt I'm trying to be nice."

Senna hushes.

"Me and my crew are going to kill people, not saying it's nice, but it's going to happen. If you stay on board, and the odd dead man walking finds their way to you…" Alice shrugs. "Don't make any difference that matters, does it? Dead's dead."

"You want me to kill for you."

"I kill for myself just fine, thanks. You're the one having trouble with it." She says. "Think about it, alright? You can go home and mope and pluck someone off the street every few months, be hungry and sad, or, you can have a full belly off folk who're dead anyway. Can't say your hands'll be perfectly clean, but- maybe rest a little easier, yeah?"

~

Weeks later, Senna leans over the guardrail of the moonlit ship, docked and gently swaying with the tide.

"Well, your ladyship?" Alice asks from behind her. "We're set to be off, will you be joining us?"

Senna inhales deeply through her nose.

"I'm not working on the crew." She says, haughtily.

"Of course."

"And I'll not participate in any plundering, murdering, what have you."

"Oh, never."

"And… don't feed me anyone too smelly, or hairy, or anything."

"See what I can do, but we're looking at sailors here."

Alice gives the order to set sail and makes her way below decks, and Senna follows after her.

"Don't expect me to call you captain, either." She says, and Alice scoffs.

"Seemed eager enough to last night."

"That was seduction, I was being seductive."

"Right, I'll expect no more of that then." Says Alice. "Shame. Guess you can hang a hammock, bunk with the rest of the crew."

"Hey! No!"

[lightandwinged]

I don't think people I know irl still look at anything I write here, and if they do, whatever, tough tiddies, I need somewhere to get my feelings out because they are fucking killing me. The short version is that my younger sister had a fucking stroke two weeks ago.

I was the one who found her. She'd had the stroke while she was asleep the night before and fallen out of bed getting up that morning and had been lying there, unable to stand up or help herself, for ten hours when I found her. I drove up to the house, my parents' house, and it was dark and cold, and I didn't know if I was going to find a corpse or if she was going to be just fine or what I was going to find.

I oldest daughtered the shit out of the situation. The details of it are a lot of stupidity on the part of so many people that make me super angry, but the point is that I was fucking on point. I kept my calm, I told the necessary people the relevant information. I may have been rushing through every hospital in our state in depressed housewife pajamas and a cat-shaped fur coat, but I was on top of things. I'm proud of my responsibility.

But ever since things happened, I've felt like I'm falling because I can sense there's this breakdown right on the edge of me that won't break through. My therapists (both of them because I'm not letting this turn into another grippy socks vacation like I had in 2020, thanks but no thanks) have been suggesting it's because I don't feel safe about it, and that seems the most correct. The other day, I went to visit my sister in the hospital (she's doing a lot better) and wound up having to be her healthcare advocate alone for three hours without warning. Which like, of course I did it, but it was like... an unnecessary thing, a fake emergency that just turned that particular bit of adrenaline back on and made me feel back to unsafe.

So instead of being like. Fucking NORMAL, I've just been in this stupid fog of life. It resembles depression, or kind of like this defensive movement of my brain like it recognizes that when I finally have emotions about The Thing, I won't be able to function, so we're gonna put the emotions away and turn all emotions off, actually, and not feel anything! And every time an emotion about anything breaks free, we're gonna lock everything down because we can't let people know we have FEELINGS.

I feel like I've been royally failing at the normal things I'm supposed to be doing, like being a friend and a mother and a wife and a girlfriend. I try to engage but I feel like I can only go half the distance I normally do because there's that defensive thing there. My husband is getting the worst of it because he has to pick up the slack that's left from me being forced into fake emergencies and he feels so alone, and I feel like absolute shit about that. What can I even do about it?

I really just want to scream and cry and maybe like. Break something. Many somethings.

Our yard is more overgrown than usual this year because we've had so much rain. It feels gothically appropriate (not goth in the sense of my deathly style of dressing, which is also true, but like the woods are consuming us, which is also also true). The last two weeks since my sister's stroke, I've felt knocked out of myself, and I am legitimately kind of grabbing for every single solitary distraction I can to just pierce the unfeeling bubble and get SOMETHING out there because this isn't fucking healthy but ha ha haaaaaaaaaaa we're stuck here in the green right now.

[nomoreusername]

Lily Of The Valley (Part 1)

Pairing:Aris x female reader

Summary:The collapse of WICKED meant spending another one of Aris's birthdays hidden from the world.

Our lives weren't getting better any time soon. With the way the Mazes had collapsed in on themselves, there were very few of us left. Even the professional WICKED workers' had abandoned this place at the end of everything. Now the old sanction was essentially isolated.

I believe the worst part wasn't the deaths themselves. It was the fact that in just a few more days the last of us were set to go up.

Life though, had other plans.

The skies from both Mazes started glitching, giving the Glade snow and the Spring heat, causing their crops to wither away to nothing more than soil. Then, the rains started, soaking and flooding every inch of that place, and leaving the Runners and Skaters unable to do their jobs. Eventually, all this change made the pipes burst, leaving them without water.

Before you think we didn't try, we sent up box after box with supplies. Fresh food, clean water, extra clothes, thick blankets, dry towels, new shoes, and every item you could think of was provided while the last five of us, Thomas, Teresa, Rachel, Aris, and I, worked on discovering what had malfunctioned the code. For only three weeks we were empty handed until we looked at the past footage of the Maze, where we saw Newt and his message to WICKED. We watched him scale the sides of the wall with nothing but a measly vine before reaching the top.

Despite it being obvious what was happening, he's only human, so his urge to know if there was more, won as he reached his hands for the sky. Instead of anything he could have prepared for, he slumped to the ground.

Still, as we examined the footage closer, we saw the black hole from where he had touched it, showing that he had ripped the barrier between the two Mazes. Realizing nothing would solve that, we argued over pulling everyone out of the Trials altogether when there was this muffled yet ear splitting sound. Barely a second later pieces of the ceiling started falling.

It was split. Rachel, Thomas, and I ran towards the box in a desperate attempt to pull everyone out, while Teresa and Aris ran to the control rooms to close down everything so that whatever had happened inside wouldn't affect them.

Unfortunately, we're a package deal. So the Right Arms little device was the final straw for this place.

Rachel, bless her soul, tried to disengage one she found stuck to the wall. Somehow, she managed to do it. Trusting her, Thomas and I stepped into the boxes as she moved on to another.

Only this time, the bombs were too quick. With another explosion, everything collapsed. I'm 100% sure the only reason Thomas and I are alive is because of the metal boxes surrounding us, enclosing out bodies.

Still, all that debris and ringing in my ears caused me to go unconscious.

Of course, there are worse things to be. I would tell you to ask Rachel, but we couldn't even piece all of her together if we tried.

By the time I woke up I felt myself being dragged off. Looking up, I saw Aris pulling me with him, visibly limping, before shutting me in the room where Teresa was treating Thomas's head wound.

From what I heard, his leg ended up stuck under loose bricks while they were running, breaking his ankle. While she did snap it back into place, to this day, he still has that limp. In fact, we all have something. For me, the noise damaged my eardrums, leaving me completely deaf in my left ear and with below average hearing in my right. Thomas has scars, some fainter than others, on his face, neck, and chest. Teresa ended up breaking her right wrist from the amount of effort to help everyone. With adrenaline pumping through her, she snapped it back but was unable to treat it. Now she can't move her fingers on her left hand. And Rachel was blown into tiny pieces so she's dead.

We all tried, but it wasn't enough.

We went back for the subjects' bodies when we felt we could. Burying everyone that had most of themselves intact, we made graves just like the Baggers had, by hand and shovel. Placing them inside, we made tombstones with their names in any color we could find. Any color but red. After the amount of crimson soaked onto fabric, walls, floors, ground and snow, we had had enough of that color for a lifetime.

After that, we savaged what we were able. While on our hunt for canned food we came across a bomb shelter. Apparently, nobody thought that was good information. To this day, I don't know if them not guiding everyone towards it before the explosion or when this all started is worse.

If I had to answer though, it would be the fact that they knew this place would kill everyone but didn't even warn us. They just left, leaving us to deal with the mess. My guess is they expected us all to die.

Now we live down here. As immunes in a world that hates us, and past WICKED workers, it's for the best.

To make things easier, we split us up into groups. The original partners, Thomas and Teresa, were a packaged deal so they got their own wall we couldn't see through. I was merely a fill in, and now I would be a permanent one. So Aris and I got our side, and that was that. While we still talk, this was just the easiest thing in terms of sleeping and rations.

We honestly don't know much of what they get up to since the separated walls are soundproof, making it our own homes. While there are times with board games, VHS's, or music, we didn't go into deep conversations. While Teresa and Thomas probably had their own, Aris and I were all we needed for that.

We didn't move on after. You don't just forget something like that. It's just that our only other choice was pitying ourselves forever, and it would be pathetic to do so when we are still alive.

Three weeks ago marked the third year since the incident. In those three years, we had found a few things out. Apparently, our names aren't ours. Teresa is actually DeeDee, Thomas is Stephen, Aris is Caleb, and mine is Y/R/N. Still, seeing as we don't remember having them, we don't use them. Another thing. At the time of the incident Teresa was seventeen, along with Thomas, Aris was nineteen, and I was eighteen. So now it's two groups of twenty year olds, stuck on their own. While that should be an irresponsible group, we aren't most people.

We also found our birthdays. Today was Aris's, June 17th. So he chose a movie, The Never Ending Story, and we all watched it while eating dinner. After it was over, we played Candy Land before they left.

I still had one more thing. It was small, as expected, but it was something.

Giving him a vanilla cupcake, I lit the candle and told him to make a wish. Looking at me for a moment, he then closed his eyes and mumbled before blowing it out.

"You made it another year,"I whispered.

"Yeah. I did,"He nodded, unwrapping the sweet treat and cutting it directly in half. "Here,"He said, handing it over.

"It's not my birthday,"I shrugged.

"No, but it's a thank you. For being here and giving me hope when there wasn't any,"He told me, still expectantly holding it out.

"I didn't give you anything,"I sighed, accepting it anyway because I know exactly how stubborn he is.

"You gave me this cupcake."

"You know what I mean. I haven't done much but exist."

"You've stayed beside me."

"I kind of have to."

"Just take the compliment."

"I already took the cupcake. Don't be greedy,"I sighed, rolling my eyes before taking a bite. While it wasn't as sweet as it could be, that wasn't unexpected. Despite the way this food was supposed to last for decades, rationing is still very much needed, even for little treats. The icing and small sprinkles helped though, and it wasn't dry so all in all, it wasn't a bad dessert.

"I learned from the best,"He said in a light tone. Rolling my eyes again, I nudged his good leg before taking a second bite.

"So one more movie?"He offered, doing the same.

"Yeah. Just turn up the volume this time."

"You seriously didn't say anything while the last movie was playing?"He pointed out, looking through the pile as I sat in front of the couch, leaning against it.

"Not while the Double T's are over,"I shrugged.

"I doubt they'd mind."

"And I would. Inconveniencing you is one thing, probably my favorite thing actually. We just don't see those two enough for it to be fun."

"As hard as you try, you don't. I love you too much,"He responded, putting a VHS into the player and rewinding it.

"Yeah. There's something wrong with you for that,"I pointed out, leaning completely against the couch and pulling the sheet from it.

"Well, you're my best friend so if something's wrong with me something's wrong with you."

"Gee. I wonder why I could be your only friend,"I deadpanned.

"That gets funnier every time you say it,"He replied in the same blank tone, pressing start before I could see what he picked. Turning up the volume, when the previews started I could hear it just enough.

All Parts

"I know,"I nodded as he sat beside me. Getting under the same blanket, we stayed beside each other as the movie played.

Next Chapter

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Closer

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: Mike makes good on a promise to take you somewhere nice for the weekend.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, some cheesy lines, the story behind that kiss people were curious about, a back rub, nudity... I don't think I have to tag anything 18+ yet.... hm...

A/N: Well... I'd say I'm sorry but I'd be lying... (But we're getting there, I promise.)

If you like this fic, please let me know 🥰 and reblog so that others may see it too! <3

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @mayloma @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @peyton-warren @livisss @ylva-syverson @sweetandgentlecreature

“So,” Mike continues his story as he pours the last of the bottle of wine you’d shared over dinner, “my mom tried to throw a chair at his head when she found out, but it turned out to be a really heavy chair she couldn’t lift, so that plan went down the drain real fast… In the end, she just kicked him out and had the locks changed the same night.”

“Wait, so your dad had several side pieces and your mom still stayed with him?” you ask in disbelief, stressing that if Mike tried to pull that shit on you, you’d at least castrate him. “And I’d find a lighter chair to throw.”

First, he laughs, but then his face turns serious again: “She didn’t stay with him. They were actually divorced for nearly ten years.”

“And they got back together?”

Mike nods. “Yeah – which mom didn’t tell me about, so I just about strangled dad when I saw him in the kitchen somewhere halfway through my second year of college… I’m still not completely used to living with the guy again.”

“So your mom kissing Sy was… when they were still split up?”

“Yeah…” It’s immediately obvious that Mike doesn’t really like to talk about this. “There was this guy, Dave, she was with him for a while. He tried really hard to be my dad, which I didn’t like, so I was glad to see him go. I had just started college when he broke it off, and it left my mom in a bad place, because things had been getting serious and whatnot.” Mike sighs as he remembers the story. “Then one night she’s been drinking and Sy shows up because he’d promised her to take a look at her car or some shit… She kissed him. And then me, Will and Evan walked in on that.”

“I can’t even imagine what the worst part of that must have been,” you say as you stare at Mike wide-eyed.

“Oh, that’s easy!” he says immediately. “The worst was by far the fact that Will and Evan – for the next six months – wouldn’t shut up about Sy becoming my new step daddy.” The way he says it is so amusing that you almost spit your wine over the table.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing,” you say.

“No, that’s pretty much the only thing that works,” he laughs. “We still joke about it. I don’t always appreciate it, but… My dad was even worse about it than I was, he couldn’t look at Sy for a while after he heard about what had happened. They’re cool now though.”

Mike downs the last of his wine right when you take your last sip, and as soon as you put your empty glasses on the table, the atmosphere in the room changes. You look at Mike, and he stares back at you, but neither of you says anything.

Finally, Mike breaks the silence: “I’m, eh… I’m going to take a shower. You can hang on the couch while I’m gone, if you want…”

“Mike,” you say, one eyebrow raised. He looks up at you and hums. “I’m going to wait for you in bed.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush anything…” Oh for fuck’s sake! You cut him off immediately.

“Mike! We’ve been trying to hook up for nearly two months now! We’re a solid six weeks past rushing anything.” You get up and walk over to him. As soon as you’re standing behind his chair, you throw your arms around his neck and bend down to put your head on his shoulder. “I can’t wait any longer.” Mike shivers and swallows hard when you put your lips on his neck. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me right now?”

“Eh…” He looks embarrassed when he speaks again. “I really need that shower…” Oh? Oh. Right. You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for this for weeks.

Your heart flutters when you hear the water turn off, and it doesn’t take Mike long to appear in the doorway. He’s wearing those goddamn grey sweatpants from that thirst trap with the turtles – and the legion of shameless pics after that. It’s annoying how good he looks in those sweats.

The night of the campfire had already shown you his hair gets adorably curly when wet, but it somehow looks even better today. You swallow hard when he walks towards the bed and climbs in. With a remote you hadn’t noticed, he turns off the big ceiling light of the room, and strings of fairy lights come on that are wrapped around the posts of the bed.

“Safer than candles,” Mike says, “ask my mom how they came to that conclusion.”

“I don’t want to talk or think about your parents right now, Mike,” you laugh. “Had a nice shower?”

“Very,” he says with a big grin on his face, “did you enjoy yourself in the meantime?” The real answer is ‘no’, but you’re not going to tell him that. Every second he spent in that shower, you spent getting worked up over whatever is going to happen now that he’s out of the shower – which means you’re both horny and terrified right now. What if those past weeks have sent your expectations soaring, and everything is going to be a major disappointment?

With great difficulty, you push away those thoughts, taking a deep breath before leaning over to kiss Mike. Unfortunately, he’s already picked up on your nerves.

“You look a little tense, baby,” he mutters after giving you a small peck on your lips. Something in his tone tells you that he knows just the thing to get you to relax. He reaches for the drawer of the nightstand and pulls out a bottle you can’t read the label of. “Turn around, lose the top,” he commands. Shit.

“Eh…” You had a plan. That plan included a new set of lingerie that cost you half of your last paycheck, and you had planned on actually showing that to him… but not like this. On another note: Why does he have to pick up on your distress immediately?

“Ooooh, what are you wearing underneath those pajamas?” he muses, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you close. Curious hands slip underneath the satiny fabric of your babydoll, exploring the lace of the one-piece you have on. “Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see, lemme see…”

“Mikey!” you shriek when he pulls you down onto the mattress and practically rips your pajamas off your body.

“This is very nice, Sweetcheeks,” he says when he’s finally looking at you in the black body you’d picked out for the occasion. He’s trying really hard not to let you know how impatient he is to get you out of it, but he fails miserably, because he’s incredibly impatient to get you out of it.

“All of this is wasted on you, isn’t it?” you ask.

He smiles apologetically. “It’s covering up what I like best about your body,” he pouts. “Boobies shouldn’t be confined to uncomfortable lace and underwire contraptions! They should be free!”

“A big feminist and supporter of the ‘Free the Nipple’-movement, I see,” you tease.

He smirks down at you and shrugs. “Listen, that has nothing to do with this. I like this thing, I appreciate the effort, but I still want to take it off. Is that wrong?”

You shake your head and pull him in for a kiss. “It’s not.”

“I’m happy I got to see it. It looks really good on you, and it’s going to look even better on the floor.”

“Oh! Cheesy cliché, no boobies for Mikey!” you push him off and turn around. Wrong move. His hands are at the back immediately where he undoes the clasp of your underwear and somehow pulls it down seemingly effortlessly, and flings it somewhere.

“I was, like, super disappointed about the ‘no boobies’ thing, but now that I see your ass…” You shriek in surprise when Mike somehow manages to bite your butt.

“Don’t bite me!” The hand you throw back towards where you know his head must be hits Mike right in the forehead.

“Don’t hit me!” he retorts, wrapping his arms around you. He’s on top of you now, you’re both laughing, neither of you is in a comfortable position, you’re naked – he’s not, and the whole situation is silly to the point where it’s almost ridiculous. Mike pretend-attacks your neck, playfully growling and sort of tickling you…

“Unhand me, you deeply unserious man!” you laugh, and Mike stops – it makes you sad, even though it’s exactly what you asked for.

“What kind of an insult is that?” he asks, and you shrug. It wasn’t meant as an insult, per se. Mike rolls off you again and lies down next to you. “Am I ruining the mood?” he asks sincerely.

“Not at all!” you answer. “I like when you’re like this! You’re funny and sweet. And – correct me if I’m wrong – you’re silly like this with your cats, too. And with your friends. With all the people you care about. I like that I’m one of them.”

Mike looks at you as if you just lit a block of ice on fire. “I’ve heard ‘obnoxious’, ‘annoying’, ‘immature’, ‘weird’… all kinds of shit. But never ‘funny and sweet’.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve been dating the wrong girls.” You know for a fact he’s been dating the wrong girls, because until now, none of the girls were, well… you.

“Yeah,” Mike sighs before propping himself up on his elbow. “If I remember correctly, I was on my way to giving you a back rub when you annoyingly put nice lingerie in my way. You still want in on that?”

Would ‘I want you to rub the inside of my pussy with your cock’ be too crude a reply to that? You quickly decide against the answer and just respond to his question with a decisive nod. As impatient as you are to get laid… That back rub does sound nice.

Mike’s hands are absolute magic; they’re big and strong and putting pressure in all the right places. Of course, he’s also relentlessly teasing you with soft touches, trailing his fingers down your spine, making you shiver. Soon, his tongue follows suit, trailing your shoulder, and you’re left wondering… “Don’t you have a mouth full of disgusting massage oil now?”

“Sweetcheeks, puh-lease,” he says, and you can hear the eyeroll in his voice, “I came prepared! This stuff is edible.” Of course it is!

“Can I try it?” Zero style points for your reaction – it’s a little too enthusiastic. As you turn slightly, you feel Mike’s hips grinding into your ass, and for the first time you notice he’s hard. How did he do such a good job at hiding that when he was literally sitting right on top of you?

Without thinking you stick your tongue out when his thumb comes within reach of it, and equally thoughtlessly, you suck it into your mouth, leaving Mike sitting there, wide-eyed and with open mouth, groaning softly as you swirl your tongue around his finger. He was right, the oil is edible. It tastes sweet, fruity… Like mango?

“Fuck, Sweetcheeks,” he moans, “do those skills transfer?” You can’t get mad at that – in fact, you have to try really hard not to laugh. When he pulls his hand back, you’re disappointed – which gets even worse when he turns you back onto your stomach, pressing his lips to your neck and whispers: “I wasn’t done with you.”

He continues where he left off, and just when you’re about ready to melt into the mattress under his touch, he moves down…

“Mike, this is not a back rub anymore,” you laugh when his hands move over your ass, squeezing everywhere they can reach. It still feels nice, but… No, just that. Feels nice, that’s all.

“I never said I was going to stop there.” His voice comes from further down than you think, and then he sinks his teeth into your ass cheek again. You moan loudly as Mike keeps working your lower back and ass. When he eventually moves even lower, to the back of your thighs, you clench your legs together. “Let me touch you,” he moans as he slowly kisses a trail over your ass and up your lower back.

“Are you going to tease me?” you ask softly.

“Relentlessly, I promise,” Mike chuckles while making his way back up. From there, he pays attention to your arms and hands – interesting and very relaxing to the point where…

“Mike, I’m going to doze off if you keep going,” you sigh, when it becomes obvious that your legs are getting the same treatment. Without thinking, you turn around when he sits at the foot of the bed, and he pulls both of your feet into his lap. The backrub was great, but this? “Wow,” you moan – loudly.

Mike takes his time with every part of your body, and you silently curse yourself for teasing him for being impatient. Nothing about him right now is even slightly impatient. Well. One thing about him is impatient… His girlfriend.

Finally – fucking finally – he lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder, placing soft, teasing kisses on your skin, from your ankle all the way to your thigh and then… He makes his way up your stomach and chest, until his lips are on yours again.

“No, Mike, this is unfair, go back down,” you whine in between kisses.

“Eh,” he mutters, “I – eh – I don’t…”

“You don’t what?” you ask. “Go down?” Slightly disappointing, but not a complete disaster, why is he acting so… shy and insecure?

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.” For a moment, you think that’s it, but then he lies down next to you, burying his face in your neck. “Remember the horrible bitch ex? She told me I was no good at it and shouldn’t bother doing it again, and I’ve never… I’m scared to fuck it up now, and also scared to tell anyone, so whenever I got with a girl after that, she thought I was an asshole for not eating her out and… Please don’t think I’m a jerk, please?”

“Mikey,” you say sternly, “I don’t think you’re a jerk. I want to punch that whore in the face, though.” He hums softly when you circle your fingers over his scalp. “If you ever want to try again, I’ll tell you what I like?”

[captainhysunstuff]

The Chain - Date: Woods Transcript

The Chain - Date: Woods comic

In the woods, Light and L are climbing over fallen trees.

L: Light. Are you going to tell me where we're going or not?

Light: It's where I'm going to hide your corpse.

L: ...

Light: *smirk* Relax. I'm joking.

L: ...Your sense of humor is terrible.

Light: Whatever. Don't fall behind. I want to get this over with before it gets dark.

L: ...

They walk deeper into the forest. Light eventually stops within a clearing and takes off his bag.

L: This is where you wanted to... continue?

Light: Yeah.

L: Oh... All right. *starts shrugging off his jacket in preparation for intimate shenanigans* Strange location, but-- *thinking* A ritual perhaps?

Light: *snort* HA! Not for that, you goober!

L: *embarrassedly pouts and growls while putting his jacket back on* What's special about this place, then? Is something here?

Light: It's neutral ground.

L: "Neutral ground..."

Light: Have we reached 100%?

L: 99.9%. I wouldn't mind hearing you say it.

Light stands silently. L watches him intently. Light tightens his fist, then loosens it.

Light: *turns to side-eye L* ...I am Kira.

L: *excitedly smiles*

Light: *crosses his arms* What are the conditions of L working with Kira?

L: *smirks* For me to work alongside you?

Light: *leans against a tree, waiting*

L: *sobers up* My terms are as follows: One: you will reveal the locations of every notebook that you know of. Two: the killing list will be run by me before judgment is passed.

Light: *glares*

L: *raises finger* Hear me out. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing that you're hoping to improve the world by killing criminals. Encourage better behavior by threatening swift and severe punishment to those that corrupt society, and targeting those that hinder this mission is an unfortunate exception. I understand that, I do.

But if changing the world is really your goal, then I believe the time for scourging is over. You've already shown everyone that you're watching for the scum of the earth to step out of line. Now is the time to be selective. Quality over quantity. I can help you target more influential people who cause chaos. Attack the root rather than the symptom.

Light: What makes you think that I couldn't do so on my own?

L: Please. No one person can change the world all by themselves. Not lasing change, anyways.

Light: I'm inclined to disagree. Many individuals have made a difference.

L: They still needed other people to follow them. Others who were convinced that their proposed changes were for the better.

Light: I am doing that. Kira has millions of followers by now.

L: Your methods will not last. Even if you manage to get the entire world on board with Kira's purpose and morality, how does that stop crime from happening? Fear of punishment? That already exists! What, because your punishment is faster and supernatural, the lesson will stick better?

Light: *insulted, leans forward* It's better than what came before!

L: And if Kira disappears? In just these few weeks of silence, I've noticed a tentative spike in criminal activity. Things are just itching to return to how they once were. Everyone is ready and willing to accept Kira's time on Earth as a dark, fear-filled period in humanity's history. Write him off as one of the worst murderers of all time.

Light: ...

L: I'm telling you, if you really want change, just killing anyone who commits a crime isn't going to cut it.

Light: Kira doesn't kill indiscriminately.

L: *approaches Light* I can help you. Help you do the necessary research to deem a person worth erasing.

Light: Kira does do research and judges accordingly.

L: *unfolds Light's arms* Forgive me, but you're just one person from one walk of life. You only have your own perspective to go by. *cradles Light's left hand* This is part of the reason why a single person can't change the world on their own. Not on this scale. Let me lighten the load. *brushes some hair behind Light's ear* Having a second set of eyes is objectively better for making fair judgements. Kira can't afford to make mistakes... *holds Light's hand up and smiles* ...and who is better suited for double-checking Kira's work than the best detective in the world?

Light: *cracks a smile, amused* Hm. You think so highly of yourself.

L: *raises Light's hand to his mouth* My resume speaks for itself, and experience has shown that we work well together.

Light: *touches L's bottom lip* I won't lie. This offer is starting to sound attractive. However, you won't use this to wrest control over who ultimately gets judged.

L: Of course not. All I'm offering is a second opinion. *shoves his hands in his pockets and puts on an annoyed look* Also, criminal lives aren't only a resource for you. Remember, you aren't the only one trying to fight crime. Some of the people you've judged were being held for questioning and died before they could've revealed crucial information. Such hastiness endangers the lives you want to protect. I can ensure that this never happens again. They could also be my employees, so y'know...

Light: *pulls hand back and chuckles sheepishly* Ehehe... I can see how that would be annoying. Fair.

L: You would ultimately have the final say, and I'd leave the act for you to carry out... unless explicitly asked.

Light: Hm. *thinking* He's expressed interest in testing the notebook before. How could he not want to at this point?

L: My next term is the allowance of me requesting a kill now and then.

Light: Oh?

L: It would be an absolute last resort. No offense, but I also find Kira's power quite cheap.

Light: It's really not as overpowered as you'd think.

L: Really? Well, I suppose there are rules in place regarding its usage...

Light: Any other conditions or concerns?

L: The last and most obvious request I'd have... Spare my associates.

Light: *serious expression* Will they obey you if you order them to not oppose Kira?

L: ...Not necessarily.

Light: Then I can't guarantee their safety. Kira will eliminate all threats.

L: Then I ask that you run your decisions by me first. I would like to be given the chance to speak in their defense.

Light: Perhaps.

L: If you agree, know that if I find that you abuse or violate my terms in any way, I will immediately resume my path to convict and sentence you.

Light: *closes eyes and looks away* Hmph.

L: But show me even a modicum of respect, and I will refrain from going after you myself. *leans against the tree alongside Light and partially holds his hand* I promise.

Light looks down at his held hand, and glances back up at L. L smiles softly at him. Light's heartbeat quickens as he returns the expression.

Light: These are all of your terms, I assume? Respect, an open mind, and no surprises. Do I have that right?

L: *nods* Yes.

Light: Hm. I suppose you aren't asking for the impossible...

L looks down surprisedly as Light entwines their fingers.

Light: I also have the right to reject your assistance at any time.

L: Of course. That goes without saying. I can't control what you do. *sticks his tongue out with silly expression* That's a Kira power.

Light: *laughs* True.

L watches as Light rummages through his bag and pulls out a garden trowel.