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urf1lterr · 1 year ago

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afterglow | pedro pascal [2/3]

"tell me that you're still mine, tell me that we'll be just fine, even when i lose my mind"

previous chapter: [1]

summary: being nominated for an oscar was a dream come true, until you had to spend the rest of the night near your deceitful ex who still loved you.

pairing: actor!pedro x actress!reader

genre: acting world!au, enemies/exes to lovers ?? au | angst, fluff, fighting, mature

word count: 15k

status: 2/3 complete

author's note: SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT LOVES. even though its gonna be three parts lol i still want you to want more. i've been confused on my writing because tbh- i feel like i could do better and keep rushing with these storylines and end up regretting them AFTER they are posted lol. not edited- it really isn't.

"Let's cut the chit-chat and get some real answers, why did y'all breakup?"

"Andrew!"

"Three days have passed, she's fine now," he defended, shrugging as Florence shot him an irritated look by his prying behavior.

It has indeed been a few days since the terrible night that consisted in you meeting your favorite artist, crying beside her, running awkwardly away right after, having a screaming match with your ex, and then passing out in the car.

So, you couldn't deny it wasn't a memorable night.

The past three days could've been better to say the least if your management team stopped spamming you with text messages concerning the fight, maybe even ignoring the loads of pictures of your crying face.

Oh, the pictures. Not a fun sight to see.

Luckily for you, the pictures were only ones inside the party near Andrew- not Pedro. Unfortunately, though, your picture was turned into a 'crying in the club' meme.

You couldn't exactly be mad over it, you loved memes.

Thank the Lords the paparazzi were clueless and never ended up catching your argument with Pedro or you wouldn't know how to cover it up.

You could never get away with the typical 'friends fighting' after he shouted how much he loved you.

And bless the celebrities near you for minding their business.

To clear up your meltdown, you took it upon yourself to send out a quick tweet the next morning with a "i'm sorry i'm an emotional drunk. one second we're talking about 500 days of summer and then...well you already know how THAT ends."

In that moment you couldn't care less if people believed you or not, this was going to pass fast anyway.

Now here you were, sitting in front of your kitchen bar as Andrew and Florence decided to pay you a visit because they missed you- or so they say.

Realistically, they wanted to see if you were still a hot mess.

Which you weren't, obviously.

Shailene would have tagged along, but she was busy doing grown up things, such as working on her latest project Andrew claimed which was a slight bummer. She was the mediator, now who else was going to stop the arguments calmly between your two friends.

Florence disagreed, shaking her head. "You can't just ask her that, it's impolite."

Sighing, Andrew sent you an apologetic glance. "Okay, I am sorry." Not taking his eyes off you, you could feel his curiosity and eagerness from the other side of the kitchen. "But we're all thinking it."

Judging by how unresponsive Florence became, you could tell she wasn't going to fight him on this. And well, she was secretly on his side because your fight with Pedro was seriously excessive.

She just wanted to know what he could've done to make you so angry, it didn't make sense to her if he did cheat. He didn't seem like the type, but some people do the most surprising things- so she couldn't really tell.

"Do you want the last reason or all of them?"

Widening his eyes, Andrew shares a glance with Florence for a swift second before finding your eyes. "Last reason?"

"The last fight we had that led us to finalize our breakup."

"Finalize," he giggled, leaning on the marble counter. "This isn't a divorce process."

"For a person who is so concerned about my relationship crisis, you seem to be catch on to the most irrelevant stuff."

"So you admit you still want to be with him," Andrew declared, giving a smug look as you tried to process his words. "If you're still stressing over him, it means you don't want to let him go."

"I never said I was stressing over hi-"

"Did she or did she not just claim she was undergoing a crisis-," Andrew interrupted, slightly raising his voice. "-a relationship crisis, to be exact."

Florence sheepishly looked your way, capturing your stern expression before slowly nodding.

Your male friend clapped his hands loudly before bursting out a wider grin, happy someone had his back. "There we have it, if he's on your mind that much to turn into a crisis- you still love him!"

Furrowing your brows, you didn't know how to respond. It was true, you had many moments where Pedro agitated you even when you haven't been near him for quite some time.

But isn't being wound up over an ex part of healing?

Truth be told, you knew your feelings for Pedro hadn't completely disappeared, but love? You weren't even sure love existed by your past experiences.

"I do not love him," you hiss, vigorously snatching the water bottle on the counter and aggressively opening it. "How can love be real? It's baffling."

"Questioning the real question with a question," he sneers, making Florence and you become confused as ever. "You're so in love him."

Florence cuts in, squinting her face in puzzlement. "Wait- what's the real question she's supposedly questioning with a question?"

"Love!" he cheers happily before placing his hand on his palm, dreamingly gazing at you. "You have your doubts on what love may be, but without knowing it you're having them because you're questioning your love to Pedro since you're too scared to admit you still love him."

"I don't get it."

Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn away and head towards your living room to lay on your couch. You were not in the mood to have someone else tell you what your feelings were when they weren't you. "I'm done with this conversation."

Hearing a low slapping noise, following an irritated hiss, you could make out Florence's displeased voice. "See what you did! Now she's not going to tell us."

"So much for moral support, you really are nosy," Andrew fought back, whispering loudly.

A minute or two went by since you couldn't make out what they were saying before rushed footsteps soon made their way near you as your friends awkwardly smiled, hoping they didn't upset you too much.

Because they really wanted to know the drama.

Pushing him roughly from behind, Florence sent you an innocent smile as Andrew landed near your side of the couch, trying his best to hold his composure and not turn back around and start another fight.

Placing a light hand on your shoulder, you blankly glance at it before meeting his attention. "We just wanted you to know we totally understand if you aren't comfortable...expressing your past-"

"Get your hand off me and let's get this over with so you two can leave already."

Florence quickly sat right beside Andrew, both not offended with your statement because they were fully aware of how annoying the were becoming.

Before you could say anything, Florence quickly spoke aloud. "Start from the beginning!" Andrew slowly looking back to her, he sent her a confused look. "So we aren't lost, of course."

Laughing lightly, you nod before adjusting yourself on your seat. It was going to be hard to remember all the details clearly because there really wasn't an exact time issues occurred, it kind of just naturally appeared here and there.

Now that you think of it, majority of the tiny disputes during the earlier days of your relationship were probably on the same level as when you two were splitting, but maybe the dense ones created towards the end really made it hard to continue.

"If I'm being totally honest, we never really had problems when we first started dating. He was really great," you begin, clutching onto a pillow you found right beside you. "And he would always make sure to watch me make it inside my house before leaving, that was when I knew he wasn't some fling."

Andrew smirked, nodding proudly. "Classic move."

Smiling at the thought, you focused your mind to uncover the ugly truths that slowly tore you two apart.

"But then one day, I wanna say a few weeks after our second anniversary, we just started...fighting?"

Tilting your head, you look down as sad memories began pouring through your mind completely. "It wasn't our usual small fights over who left the bathroom floor wet or dropping his ipad in the pool-"

"-you dropped his ipad in the pool?" Florence coughed, bewildered by your scandalous actions.

"He wanted to know if it was waterproof," you defended.

"Was it?"

"No," you nervously reply, avoiding their eyes. "But he had it backed up and I bought him a new one!"

"That was kind of a bitchy move," Andrew muttered, catching your pissed gaze. "But at least you made up for it!"

Maybe it wasn't that great of an idea to just throw it in, but he did say he was really curious and wanted to dump it under the sink.

"Anyway," you start back up again, making Andrew lowly sigh in relief. "Our fights were never that serious, or at least not until he started filming for that new tv series he joined."

Florence spoke up, lightly questioning "The Last of Us?"

Nodding, you shrugged. "I guess it's normal to say the time apart did cause a rift in our relationship, but it wasn't too bad. He always made sure to call and facetime at least once every two days."

"But one day when he was visiting during his week break he just...snapped?" you frowned, not even wanting to visualize the tiny argument.

You had to for your own good.

"He had been home for maybe two days before he suddenly became moody. Like- his attitude was insane, I have never seen him like this ever," you sigh, closing your eyes for a second before continuing. "He didn't want to go out to eat, didn't want me to make him food, and when I offered to have it delivered he slammed the bedroom door on my face and claimed he was going to bed."

"Woah, why would he do that?" Andrew asked, seriousness splattered all over his face.

You wish you knew.

"Not sure, I just thought maybe work was stressing him out so I wanted him to have his alone time to clear his mind."

"Did that work?"

Sitting up straighter, you send a sorrowful smile. "For the rest of that week-yes. He ended up apologizing to me when I tried going to bed and said his manager was being tough on him for some scenes they had done."

You remember the moment you walked inside your bedroom, disappointed that he was awake. Not wanting to cause more tension, you planned to sneak under the covers and deal with the incident in the morning.

But his arms slowly wrapping over your waist as you had your back facing him said otherwise. Pulling you closer, you remember the soft "please don't be mad at me" he whispered near your ear, making sure you felt his tight embrace as if to prove you were his.

That night ended with you turning your body over to face him, accepting his open arms as a way to answer his pleading way of forgiveness.

Like always.

"Once he went back to work, we still talked- but I could tell he wasn't fully engaged like he always was," you sulk, remembering the first time you caught him not listening. "It got to the point where I purposely stopped answering his calls."

Your friends quickly send you a shocked look, you continue before they could intercept. "I couldn't handle his lack of attention, I would rather have him panic from the rejected calls than just tell him why I was upset."

It wasn't your best move, but you were frustrated. It wasn't fair that he was the one who got to treat you poorly and you had to accept it.

You admit, maybe if you communicated with him about these issues you could've prevented many future arguments and even saved your relationship.

But you were human and sometimes humans act human.

"Then what happened?" Andrew asked, a curious appearance plastering his face. "You continued ignoring him?"

Laughing lightly, you shake your head. It was the plan, but plans don't always work out. "Actually, he secretly took a flight back home one weekend and confronted me."

Gasping, Florence jumped up in her seat and moved her leg under her. "No way!"

"Yes, way," you sheepishly reply, embarrassed at the memory. You can still picture the way Pedro stood in your shared bedroom as you stepped out of your bathroom, jumping at the sight of him.

Standing with his arms crossed with his bags thrown by the door, he was determined to figure out what was going on with you.

"I wouldn't say we engaged in a heated argument, but it was surprisingly really emotional."

Andrew leaned his body closer, too interested not to let his questions slide. "Were you guys never emotional? I feel like every couple experiences those moments together- it's what makes them stronger."

It should've made you two stronger, but instead it made you weaker without you realizing it.

"Pedro and I had our minor instances, but it never involved problems we were facing," you began, sighing slightly. "All I remember was finding him standing near the bed with no emotion- none. I couldn't read what he may have been feeling, he just looked so....empty?"

"Empty? That's not good." Florence commented.

"That could mean a lot of things, not necessarily anger," Andrew added, trying to make you feel better.

"I knew deep down he was mad, as he should be- I was the one ignoring him," you defended him, taking full responsibility over your childish actions. "But I could tell he was more hurt that mad."

"What did he say?"

"What's going on?" Pedro questioned, his eyes not daring to leave yours as you freeze- stopping your attempts at brushing your wet hair, extremely confused as to why he was here.

He wasn't supposed to visit for another month, or so he said.

"Pedro?" you squint your eyes, still not sure if he was really in front of you or maybe you were daydreaming. You were high off many shots of espressos, it's finally hitting you. "Is that you?"

Still staring plainly at you, he stays right where he was. In any other circumstances he would have run up and wrapped his arms tightly around you, but this night was different.

He looked disorientated, out of place. His eyes lacked intensity as his body followed, looking as stiff as ever. Even his breathing matched his energy, calm yet unsettled.

You left him confused and he did not like that. "Answer my question."

Batting your eyes faster, you realize what was going on and where he was. Gasping, you do the exact opposite of what he wanted. "What the hell are you doing here?! You're not supposed to be home- you could get fired a-"

Taking a hold of your arms, he stills you and ignores your rambling. "What-" he begins, moving his right hand to the back of your neck and forcing you to focus on him only. "-is going on?"

Freezing, you try to back your head away from his grip but he tightens his grasp, making sure to not be too rough so he doesn't actually hurt you- he would never do such a thing. "I don't understand-"

"You haven't been answering my calls, what else is there to understand?" He sternly recalls, not wanting you to bullshit your way out of this. "So you either have been ignoring me on purpose to be petty or this is your way of hinting you don't want to be with me anymore."

Shaking your head frantically, you try to talk but he cuts you off again. "-And don't say you've been busy. You and I both know I would have figured out if you had added projects to your schedule- your mom tells me everything."

If this were a good time, you would have laughed at his side comment regarding your mother, but it wasn't.

"Not everything," you spit out, causing him to squint his face and release his hands from you.

"Are you trying to tell me something? Are you not happy? Is that why you've been avoiding my calls?" he questions, tilting his head in bewilderment, not liking your attitude at the moment. "Because if you really don't want to be with me you should've told me sooner than leaving me feeling fucking clueless while I'm out in another country working."

"I'm not saying I don't want to be with you-"

"But you aren't denying it," he intercepts, firmly nodding in realization. "I get it, I'm just glad I know now and won't have to wait another month to finally understand how you're feeling."

Walking away from you, Pedro walks towards his bags and reaches down for them. You scoff at his disturbed demeanor. There is no way you should be the only one at fault here- you both made mistakes.

Pushing his backpack off his hands, he watches at it lands on the floor before instantly finding your eyes. "Are you seri-"

"Just because I'm avoiding your calls doesn't mean I want to end our relationship" you shriek, glaring at him as his eyes soften at your hidden truth.

Your angered expression and stiff posture hits him like a brick, there was something really bothering you and he was too oblivious to acknowledged it until you began overlooking him.

Taking a deep breath, you watch as your boyfriend intently examines you as if he's trying to read your impractical mind. Sometimes, he wished you would speak up when something was bothering you, in fact- he has told you many times in the past to do so.

But the idea of patiently waiting until it erupts is what he's sure you've normalized in fear of desertion. Or maybe refusal of reality- the two of you weren't perfect.

"What's going on?" He calmly questions again, dropping any signs of fury and replaces it with worry and concern. Reaching out to you, he softly clasps your shoulder before moving in a few inches. "Am I making you upset?"

Slapping his hand away, you cross your arms over your chest in agitation. "I'm mad at you!"

Blinking a few times, he couldn't believe how fast you spilled and chaotic your energy was. He's never seen you act this hysterical and to be honest, he was really debating asking if you were on your period or not. "Why?"

Pursing your lips together, you release your arms and let them fall on your sides. "You know why!" With that, you turn your back to him and make your way back to your bathroom to hide.

At this point, you felt it was acceptable to act unbearable- he left you feeling insignificant and you weren't going to hold it in anymore.

If you stayed there any longer you knew you would break down into tears. Showing your vulnerable side this early into an argument was too easy, you have to show how bold you were in order to get your point across.

Or anger across.

But it was really hard to hold a grudge, he was just so- loving, despite your recent incidents. Deep down, he did care about you and wanted to validate your feelings- or as best he could.

Grabbing anything you could find near your sink, you begin opening some moisturizer and splatter it around your hands to keep you busy. You could feel Pedro come inside your shared bathroom but you don't dare to peep his way.

"Honey- please," you heard him release a soft sigh as he stood behind you, watching through your huge mirror in front of the two of you. He could make out your distressed appearance and you were absolutely not fine. "You can't just steer clear from this, we need to talk about it-"

Slamming the poor jar on the counter, you swiftly twist your body to his front and feel all the rage taking control. "But did you want to talk all those times I called you?! No, you didn't give one fuck about me or Leia!"

"You named your dog after Princess Leia? That's smart," Andrew butted in, grinning. "You know, since he's in the Mandalorian and Star W-"

"We get it."

Maybe it was wrong to bring your beloved corgi into such a serious topic, but she was abandoned by her father too.

"I did talk to you! I made sure to call you whenever I had time an-"

"I'm glad I made it into your schedule- but maybe if you considered adding some compassion and empathy it wouldn't feel like I'm just another business call you hate!"

Panting, you send daggers his way as his eyes widen. Did you just say he doesn't care about your calls? Impossible- he loves your calls, it makes his days better.

"You aren't a business call and you know that. Honey, please understand- hey!" He cuts himself off once you finally had enough of his poor attempts to defend himself, trying to flee but he ends up being quicker on his feet and yanking you back to his arms.

But once you were wrapped around him, even though it was for pure captivity and not warmth, you instantly broke down. He didn't know you were in tears until he felt his shirt become damp and still then he just thought you were trying to spit on him out of anger.

Hearing your tiny whimpers, he immediately glanced down and lifted you up to catch a clear view of your face, despite your protests and blockings. "Baby, I-I didn't mean to make you cry-"

"You don't mean a lot of things," you spit out, swatting his hands that dared to reach your face. You weren't in the mood to make up, all you wanted to do was sleep your troubles away, especially with the draining work day you had.

Continuing your pulling, Pedro began becoming annoyed with your strong protests against his affection. Isn't this what you wanted? "Why won't you let me hold you? I want to console you, can't I be your boyfriend for the night and tomorrow you can continue hating me?"

"You see my tears and now you want to hold me but admit we'll still be out of place tomorrow? That's acceptable for you?" you laugh ruthlessly, allowing space to be brought in front of you. "Do you hear yourself?"

Groaning, he rubs his face hard before speaking his mind, trying not to sound too furious and scare you. "What do you want me to do? I admit, I did lack some energy-"

"Some?" you snort to yourself, your face still wet.

"Don't interrupt me," he declared, shaking his head at how rude you were becoming. "I wasn't the best partner, okay?! There, I admit it, but you don't understand how it is working constantly and not being able to see family and friends and-"

"It's like you don't even know me at all," you ignorantly chuckle over his nonsense and walk towards your bed.

What a way to dismiss your feelings.

"That's not what I meant," he sighs, following after and stopping you from opening your covers and hiding underneath them. "It's just hard being away from everyone I love, I'm in a different country. It's not like I can drive an hour away and suddenly see them!"

"I can't do that either!"

"Can't you just please, please, please- consider that my mindset is not good right now," he declares, his eyes filling with sadness as his arms slowly find your waist. Taking a deep breath, you watch as he looked up at the ceiling before biting his lip. "I know I am not being the best partner right now- or for the past few months, but I am trying."

As soon as uncertainty flushed your face, his hands tightened as his expression deepened into an emotion you never seen him explore before- dejection.

"I can't promise you I'm suddenly going to wake up and give you 110% every interaction we have," he began, his voice lowering as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "But I confess- I am being a little shit and I am willing to work on that. Just please- please don't push me away. Try to understand my situation."

He wasn't wrong, his life switched around once he accepted the role of Joel Miller and you should've known from the start he would face some difficulties. Maybe you were being too self-centered and invalidated his feeling too, not just him.

Sometimes he wasn't good with words when expressing himself and made you feel as if you weren't as popular as him, but you knew it was never his intention to hurt you like that. He had a heart and loved to use it.

Fighting over work should never be a reason to be miserable especially when it's how you both get your income.

"I-I understand," you lightly speak up, watching as his eyes light up by the sound of your now calm voice filling his ears. "I just want you to know that it didn't make me feel good-"

"Of course it wouldn't make you feel good, I was being horrible," Pedro intercepted, pulling you into a tight hug and landing his face in your neck. "And if I wasn't thousands of miles away I would totally spoil you with kisses and chocolates as my sorry."

"Chocolates are still in favor," you joke and feel him softly swat your bottom in disapproval.

Pulling away, he leans his face closer to yours and plants a sweet kiss upon your lips before backing up an inch and whispering softly, "I love you, you know that right?"

Smiling, you slowly nod and surprise him with a deeper kiss before answering him back with a familiar, "I love you, too."

"You better," he smirks, pulling his body on top of yours, hearing your light squeaks once your back hit the mattress and his lips snuck their way into the crook of your neck.

"Did you end up getting chocolates?" Andrew immediately questioned once you finished your long recollection of memories.

"That's not important," Florence rolled her eyes.

"I mean he did promise her it."

Chuckling at his curiosity, it amused you how focused he was about some candy. "Yes, he did- for like a month and then I got over them."

"Understandable," Andrew replied, looking down at his lap.

Florence jumped over him, making herself sit closer to you as he winced at her sudden movements. "Then what happened?! I mean, there had to be more right?"

"My god woman, I hope you're not working for TMZ," Andrew joked.

She shushed him before leaning closer to you, signaling you to continue on with your memories. "After that fight, things became pretty normal again. We would call each other with far more energy than before and he would even fly back home often to keep our communication strong."

"And how long did that last?"

Frowning, you took a small breath. "Like three months- then we started fighting more."

"Over?"

Rubbing your face, you groaned. "He went back to lacking energy! But that's not even the worst part."

"Please don't tell me he cheated," Andrew begged, covering his eyes with his hands while pulling a sorrow look. "I would never be able to look at him the same."

"I don't know if he did cheat- but I did find out two months before we ended things that he stayed the night at his exes."

Loudly gasping, the company you had began freaking out with their jaws dropping- literally. Florence angrily furrowed her brows, "you've got to be kidding? How is that allowed in a relationship?- It's not!"

Crossing your legs, you shrug as a way to answer her. You really did wonder what was going through his head when he did that. Sadly, you couldn't believe a word he said after you found out what he did.

Maybe that's why you were fine with ending things- because the trust was slowly disappearing.

"Not to mention he would always be with her and ditch plans with me," you form a tight smile, trying not to make things awkward but it was too late.

Who could possible hear this and not feel embarrassed for you? Classic move on his part to follow the 'being friends with my ex is okay' stereotype, but it only left you feeling unwanted and flawed.

Were you not good enough to be in his arms all those times he ditched you for her? And why couldn't he tell you what was really going on- unless he was truly hiding something unspeakable.

"Spill the beans."

Hearing a door slam, you jump up in a daze. You could feel sleep still linger on your body as you crank your neck to the side, capturing the bright '12:47 pm' located on top of your nightstand.

Slowly yanking your body up, you don't stretch as you hurry out of your room to the living room in search of the mysterious person who was either your missing boyfriend or an intruder.

Catching sight of his bright yellow t-shirt as he opens the refrigerator, you could feel your body boil up. "Where have you been? You snuck out last night without even telling me- do you even understand how worried I was?!"

Watching as he gradually turns his head to face yours, Pedro closes the fridge before leaning against the kitchen counter- completely relaxed despite your current state.

"I was out with friends," he declared, grinning to try and take pressure off from you- it didn't work. "I'm sorry, I will tell you next time. I didn't mean to worry you, my love."

Placing your hands on your hips, it pains you that you secretly don't believe a word he's saying. Normally, if this were the case, he would text you if you were sleeping or call you in the morning to inform you with what he'd done.

He did neither one.

Maybe you should test him? Ask him questions and see if he'll freeze up?

"And who were you with?"

He smiled, grabbing a cup from the pantry while easily answering, "Diego and Oscar- we had a couple of drinks and Oscar thought it would be best I stay the night."

Nodding swiftly, you examine him to see if there were any signs of him lying- there weren't. Fuck, you forgot he was an actor. It's literally his job to control his emotions! "And why didn't you call or at least send a simple text?"

After hearing your words, Pedro sends you a small smile before gently placing his cup down. Walking up to you, he opens his arms. "Baby, is that why you're so upset? Because I didn't call?"

Before you could answer, he engulfs you in his arms before swaying you both around. Feeling vibrations as he let out light giggles, you instantly dropped any suspicions you may have had because he had to tell the truth- he would never lie to you.

It's surreal how easily you could throw any convictions out the window when he touched you. It's like he jogged your memory.

"Well, why didn't you at least text?"

Removing his head from your neck, he squeezes you waist and sends you an amused smirk . "Because I was insanely drunk and if I would've used my phone it probably would have resulted in me leaving you hundreds of drunk voicemails confessing my love for you."

"And that's bad?"

He chuckled, shaking his head before pinching your side. "No, but it sure as hell is annoying."

Standing up straighter, you cautiously nod at his answer and watch as he lovingly smiled down at you. "Okay, I believe you."

"Did you really believe him?" Andrew asked.

"I call bullshit," Florence confidently declares, strong on her view that Pedro was not an honest person.

"Let me finish the story!"

Loud footsteps could be heard near your hallway as you stood behind the oven, trying your best to not burn these damn chocolate chip cookies.

Such a basic recipe yet so complex- it was truly aggravating.

"Y/n? Where are you?!" you heard you assistant squeal from a distance.

Trying to properly put your mitten on, you murmur a small "kitchen" before preparing yourself to open the oven. The amount of times you burned yourself thinking it was cool enough not to wear protection-

Point is- always wear protection.

Opening the oven door, you pull the tray of freshly baked cookies towards you as the footsteps became clearly audible. Right when the cookies were in your grip and being lifted, you heard your assistant yelp-

"Pedro was caught leaving his ex's house two days ago."

Throwing yourself up into a standing position, you forget about the tray of cookies until you feel the burning sensation upon your left arm. You accidentally pulled the tray too close to you. "Ow!"

Instantly panicking, your assistant rushes to your side in support and grabs a towel to fill with ice. Pressing downwards on the wound, you wince at the pressure that was building.

"What the hell are you talking about?" you still question, extremely curious to uncover what this situation was.

His ex? That's absurd, he hasn't dated anyone in years when you first met. It's definitely not like he was in contact with them when you made it official, he was always firm when it came with communicating with past relationships.

That was a big no-no, especially when one of your ex's tried reaching out after your last movie dropped. Pedro made it very clear how unhappy he was when he made an appearance at your premiere- your boyfriend not daring to leave your side and even blocking your view whenever your ex had the chance to gawk you up close.

At the time, people thought Pedro only attended because he was close with the director and has always been friendly with other actors. Little did they know he was being extra friendly with you behind the curtains.

"Someone snapped photos of him outside of her door! It looks like he just woke up, too." Grabbing the phone from her hands, you pull it closer to your face and watch what the screen uncovered.

There he was, your boyfriend of two-years smiling brightly as he steps outside her door in the clothes he wore the night before. The same ones he manipulated you with about being with Diego and Oscar that night.

Not just that, but peering on the side of the door was indeed his tall, beautiful ex who definitely aged like fine wine. Hell, she was gorgeous and everybody knew that.

And the fact that they broke up due to their long distance, at the time, did not help this situation. Now that they lived a few cities away, what now? Were you just a doormat he could walk all over and eventually throw away whenever he wanted something new?

Placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, you refuse to take your eyes off the screen as your assistant begins speaking. "Did you know he slept over?" Glancing up, she takes your downcast face as an answer and swiftly pulls you in a tight hug. "Oh no, I'm so sorry."

You were sorry for yourself, too. How could he lie right to your face so easily knowing he was doing it- intentionally. And the most fucked up part was he probably knew you would believe him- just like all the other times you did.

"I saw that picture!" Andrew exclaimed, bewildered at his recollection. "I thought the paparazzi caught him lacking after a hook-up- damn, I wish I would've known you were together sooner."

"Same, I would have unfollowed him," Florence added. "And nobody would've known it was because of you- since you two never been public."

Forcing a smile, you give her a tiny nudge on the arm. "Gee, thanks for being so considerate."

"Continue!"

"Open the god damn door, y/n. You are being overdramatic- it was one night! Nothing happened!" Pedro yelled, pulling the car handle harshly as you searched through your bag that sat on your passenger seat- looking to see if you had everything you needed before your flee.

Let's just say, things were pretty...eventful once you discovered his scheme.

For starters, after bawling your eyes out on your poor assistant's shoulder, she made her departure in order to clean up the spare bedroom she offered you to take if you weren't comfortable staying at your own place.

You accepted.

Once she was out the door, you fled to your bedroom and grabbed any suitcase close by and began stuffing it to the brim, not caring how disorganized it was professing as you reached for more clothes.

You were almost done packing your second bag full of makeup and bathroom necessities when you heard your front door open. Jumping up, you felt your eyes widen once you heard your name being chanted on by your boyfriend. "Y/n?!"

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself, drastically glancing around your now messy bathroom to make changes to your plan- only take things you really need.

Seconds pass and you find yourself zipping your bag and rushing out the door, that was until your body roughly collided with another- causing you to drop your belongings and land on the floor. Groaning, you hesitantly rise, immediately finding your boyfriend's body nearing yours as he pleads to help you off the ground.

"Baby, I'm sorry! I didn't see you coming out," he apologizes, using his fingertips to clasp your forearms to level you. "Look, I need to tell y-"

"Get off of me," you grit, forcibly slapping his palms off you, causing him to cease and stare stunned. He has never seen you once be this aggressive. Sure, you would reject his embrace whenever you two fought here and there, but slap? Not ever.

Brushing roughly past him, you gripped your larger suitcase by its handles and made a beam to the closest exit. You couldn't be around him, not when thoughts of him being unfaithful constantly drowned your head.

A strong tug of your makeup bag made you halt your movements, not by choice, as Pedro made sure to tighten his grip to prevent you from leaving. Glancing down at his now white, clenched hands, you glare. "Let go."

Shaking his head, he stared you down- irritated that you would just pack up and leave so quickly without even hearing his side of the story. Yes, he should have told you what really happened that night- but he knew how you'd react.

It was better to keep it sealed until he was ready to unveil- or so he thought.

"You let go," he hissed, raising one of his hands and smacking yours with it. You hate how much stronger he still was while only using one hand while you had two- fuck his strength and your poor muscles.

Groaning, you dig your feet onto the ground harder as you continue your tug-a-war charade with your selfish boyfriend who didn't seem to believe space was an understandable coping mechanism after he shattered your small heart.

"Fine," you yelp, shoulders falling slightly as he eases his grip- still holding on though. "We both let go on 3."

Tilting his head, he suddenly grew suspicious by your random middle ground. He knew you well enough to know you don't give up that easily, especially when he's fully sure, by your bolting efforts, you saw the picture. "How do I know you won't just run off after?"

"You're faster and stronger than me, you'll catch me eventually."

Internally agreeing, he knew you had a point. Even if you did escape, your little legs weren't going to get you far- he knows from all the times he tackled you down after you countlessly would steal his food.

"1," you begin, eyeing him to see if he would follow.

"2," he stared at you back, cautiously watching your every step.

Taking a deep breath, you count again. "3!" With that, you release your grip from your bag and watch as he still clutches on to the strap. "What the hell- we agreed on 3 we'd both let go!"

Nervously chuckling, he placed the bag on the ground and sheepishly smiled at you. He was glad to see you finally calming down. "Sorry, I didn't think you would actually do it."

Sending him an annoyed glance, he scratches the back of his neck for assuming you wouldn't follow your word. "Trust me, I always tell the truth."

Wincing at your cold tone, he frowns by your hard demeanor. "About that- I was going to tell you-"

Softly placing a hand over your head, you release a sound of discomfort and miss the way his eyes wander in curiosity.

"Can we talk about this after I take my supplements? I am not feeling too good," you cut him off, slowly touching your forehead as you watch his concern grow. "I forgot to take them this morning."

"You know you get bad migraines when you don't take them," he declared, sighing as he raised his hand and began softly rubbing your temple in ease.

He believed you were being serene because you weren't livid and allowed him to stop you from leaving- how wrong he was.

"I know but I had a crammed morning-"

"This is why we need to hire someone to walk Leia, we don't have enough time majority of the week!" he exhales, making you stare at the floor for the point taken. But there was no way you'd hire someone to walk your dog, that's ridiculous and a waste of money. "We'll talk after, let me grab them- stay here."

Sadly nodding, you allow him to flee towards your bathroom in search for your medicine. Peering you head a few inches to the side, you wait till the coast is clear before slowly, but firmly, grabbing your once lost bag and dashing out of your bedroom.

"I almost forgot about Leia," you muttered to yourself, instantly feeling bad at the thought of how quick you were to forget your baby. How terrible of a mother were you.

And what even was more mind blowing was how Pedro didn't catch your innocent acting. Truthfully, he must be trying to be extra helpful so you would believe him. Too late.

Finding your white corgi near the kitchen, you whistle lowly for her to follow as you peddled your way to your garage. "C'mon doggie, if daddy notices our escape plan he won't let us leave that easil-"

"Y/n?!"

Jaw dropping, you shoot a glance of panic to your dog, who only blankly stares back, before rushing to your parked car. "Just like Batman and Robin- now jump in," you hushed, opening the back seat so you could not only throw your bags back there- but also your tiny-legged corgi who struggles at first, but eventually makes it in.

Once you jumped into your seat and turned on the car, you catch a breathless Pedro rushing out through the door to your side. "Fuck."

"You tricked me!"

"You slept with another woman, asshole!" you yell back, glaring as he rolled his eyes- outraged by how unreasonable you were becoming. All he wanted to do was sit you down and have a normal conversation about this, but instead you kept running away.

Once again, he thinks you need to work on your communication skills.

"You used your failing health to your advantage- how sick are you?" he yelped, offended.

"They were gummy supplements!"

Touching your car door, he sternly peers at you as you quickly lock your doors in case he tried opening it. "I did not sleep with another woman," he started, inhaling strongly before releasing it. "Why would I do that when I am in a committed relationship? Huh? Do you think I am capable of cheating?"

Shrugging innocently, you pull a sarcastic face. "Not sure, I do know you're capable of lying- maybe infidelity is the cherry on top?"

Mouth gapping, he sends you a look of hurt and for a second you feel terrible by your choice of words. In your heart, you wanted to take it back- but your head thought otherwise.

"I would never be unfaithful to you- that's not who I am," he firmly states, feeling like absolute shit that you would even accuse him of being with another woman when you were all he thought about every single second of the day.

Dryly chuckling, you nod along to his words. He feels his heart ache, as if hundreds of knives jabbed through the delicate muscle by your painful mien. Did you really think that lowly of him?

"That's who you are to me now."

Once those words flew out of your mouth and he was able to process it clearly, he paused. Whole body turning stiff and cold, he scolded you profoundly before fiercefully charging towards your car door and pounding for entrance.

It was like a nerve was touched and he was not willing to be forgiving anymore. You struck him hard and he knew you meant it out of pure anger- not genuinely, but his awareness soon became replaced with treachery and he so badly wanted you to pay for your foul words.

Mentally checking off your items before departure, you inhale sharply before lowering down your car's mirror and pressing your garage remote- allowing the door to gradually rise and Pedro to panic.

Cursing in his head, he couldn't let you drive away or else he might never see you for days and he couldn't bear the thought of you moping around in agony without at least hearing from him- the man in the picture- what actually happened that night.

Pressing on the lever and angling down to reverse, you nervously press on the gas and allow your car to drift back as your poor dog watched through the backseat his dad embarrassingly urging you to not go.

You prayed the neighbors couldn't hear a thing, if the cops came you're sure you would never go out in public for at least six months.

Realizing that it was now or never, you see from the corner of your eye a figure running towards the back of your car before a loud thump was heard.

Shakily, pressing on the brakes and putting your car on park, you jump out in horror by the sight of legs near your back tires.

You hit him.

"Shit!" you gasped, involuntarily sprinting- as if your body just knew how to react- and dropping down to your boyfriend's lifeless body-

"You ran him over?!" Andrew and Florence shrieked, interrupting your storytelling, causing you to glare and shush them.

"Shut the fuck up- it's getting to the interesting part!"

Hugging his body tightly, you could feel your face began to fall down and your body slowly begin to tremble. In a matter of seconds, you just knew your garage wasn't going to be a pretty sight to see.

Hitching your breath, you run your hands to your boyfriend's chest and shake him softly in hopes he would open his eyes- he didn't. With tears flushing down your face, you sniff as you grip onto him harder. "Please w-wake up," you begin, trying your best to keep your touch on him but you were a jittering mess. Not being able to stay still, you press your ear over his chest to see his he still had a pulse.

Sighing in relief, he did.

Squeezing his face, you frown as his expressionless face stills. Realizing he might have passed out over a concussion, your lips begin to tremble as you finally breakdown in tears and cradle him.

Leaning over from his side, you bend your body and embrace his head into your neck. "I am such a-a fucking idiot," you squeak, your eyes shutting as you don't have the power to keep them open. "I-I love you- I should've just stayed and t-talked-!"

Cutting yourself off, you ironically feel like the lifeless one despite your literal unconscious boyfriend being in your arms at the moment. Bitch, you really had the nerve. Swiftly kissing his cheek, you plunge yourself into his neck and cushion him with your body- being as fragile as ever when handling him.

Quivering in misery, you keep a strong grip onto him before you felt pressure along your side. "It's been minutes and you still haven't called 911? I could've been dead by now."

Screaming, you instantly drop the figure once on top of you and force your thighs to back up, causing you to sit perplexed on the concrete floor.

Glancing back up, you find your boyfriend brightly grinning your way, using his arms to hold his upper portion up as you looked back in confusion. Didn't you hit him?

"I was my own stunt double for some scenes," he speaks up, smiling to himself proud as you continued staying still, confused as to what had just happened. "As long as you have the right mentality- you can take a pounding."

Registering where he was going with this, you scoff and quickly allow your feet to hit the ground. Following after you, Pedro jumps at your unpleased sight and watches as you cooly open your back door to let your dog jump out before marching towards the door to your house.

"Wait? Are you mad at me for that, too?" He calls out, tilting his head in question and proceeds to get his answer by the slamming of the door behind you. "Never mind."

Angrily storming through your hallway, you accidentally run into the wooden desk placed against the wall. "Ugh!" you scream, turning around and giving it one hard kick before making your way towards your destination- the kitchen.

"What did the desk ever do to you?" Pedro mumbled to himself, stopping right by it once you were out of sight and fixing it back up against the wall, making sure the books settled on top were nested properly before going after you.

"So that's why one of the legs is chipped? I noticed that-"

"Shut up, Andrew."

"Sorry, go on."

Finding you near the blacked marbled kitchen bar, Pedro ceased his movements. To be honest, he was nervous to confront you. Not only did you find out he slept at his ex girlfriend's house, but he made you believe he was dead.

This was not going to end well.

"How could you do this to me?" He hears you ask, you back being in his peripheral view as you leaned your body over the counter, hands gripping the ends roughly.

"Do what?" he idiotically responds back, mentally slapping himself for having the audacity to question something he surely knows.

Slowly turning around, capturing his soft yet worried eyes, he catches onto your tear ones and breaks down on the inside. "Tell me the truth." you gulp, averting your eyes to your feet as you sense him bobble his head. "Did you sleep with her?"

Choking on air, he frantically shakes his head in dismay, not believing you would actually think that despite the past half an hour of him comprehending that you might so. Maybe he just couldn't believe it would ever come out of your mouth- but this whole situation made him nauseous.

Steadily finding his balance, he inched towards your frail body as you kept your contact with the floor strong, not daring to move it even when the sight of his shoes play in your mind. "Honey," he lowly calls out, lifting his fingers to your chin and hastily bringing your vision to his own. "No- I did not sleep or engage in any sexual nor romantic activity with her."

"Then why did you go to her house and not tell me?!" you cried, nudging his hand off your face, him immediately aiming towards your waist to still have you near. "Why would you do this to me? Why would you sleep over when you know how I would feel?"

"I can't tell you," he confesses, whispering softly. Feeling your face fall, you erupt into tears again as you lift up your palms to hide behind them.

Hiccuping, your hands twitch as they support your weight and force you to fall on top of the counter and continue watering your tears there. Everything was unfair and he couldn't seem to realize how bad your fights have progressed throughout the months.

"If you really care about me," you whimper, still behind your hands as he rubs circles on your waist. "You would consider my feelings and understand why I should know what you did with her."

Sighing, he releases you waist and rubs his forehead in frustration. Pedro wasn't the type to hide things in relationships. In fact, he was amazing when it came to expressing feelings and being honest while you were the same- but you typically took longer to reveal your troubles than he did.

But no matter how loyal he was to you, it wasn't his place to share someone else's business no matter who the association may be.

"I know, baby. I know- believe me," he whispers, pulling you in for a hug and lifting you off the counter as your sobs were felt among his chest. It broke his heart. "But I can't betray her, she needed me and trusted me to see her. I can't just deceive her."

"But you can do that to me?" you reply, catching him off guard as he shuts his eyes tightly by how accurate you were being. "It's okay, I understand."

"No," he shakes his head, groaning before staring you down. "You don't understand, hell- I don't understand this either. But what I need you to know is I did not kiss, flirt, wink, tease, or touch her in any sexual way. We did not have sex - there was no removing of any clothing-"

"Then why did you sleepover?!"

"She needed me," he simply replies, causing you to laugh ridiculy.

"I needed you and you left me," you spit out harshly, not believing how he could defend himself and think you would ever fine with it.

Grunting, he runs his hand over his hair before pouring all of his stress onto you. "What do you want me to do? I told you what happened- she needed me, I helped her, it took longer than expected so I fell asleep on the couch- do you want to touch my knotted back for proof? Because you can!"

"Why am I the one being yelled at?" you respond, watching his face fall in disappointment.

Staying in your position for a minute or two, you continued examining him as he did the same, not knowing where this was headed. That was until he motioned with his hand for you to move closer.

"Come here."

Furrowing your brows, you pause at his words. Did he think hugging was going to solve all of your problems- because it wasn't. "No-"

Feeling his arms glide up along your upper body and finally wrapping around your shoulders, he pressed you up against his chest into the warmest bear hug you might have engaged in.

It was...peaceful.

Sighing, he felt your body soften by the touch. Relaxing, you closed your eyes as he made it his mission to not ease up on his grip. "I didn't do anything with her," he whispers, laying his face comfortably on your shoulder. "I promise, I love you."

Sadly, his confession made you break down more as tears flooded your face and your body fell upon his grip. Easily wrapping his palms on the back of your head, he cradled you tightly and never left your sight once the rest of that day and week.

And that's how that fight ended- with you trusting his sweet nothings and letting him take over your body with his hugs and kisses because he somehow made you believe him.

Every single time.

You wish you could have moved on from that topic that night as you allowed him to show you how much he loved you, but unfortunately that wasn't an option.

Especially when paparazzi exploited more pictures with him and his ex the following weeks later.

"And what about your last fight? You know- the one that ended things," Andrew started, making you halt. "What happened then?"

Quickly standing up, you brushed your sweatpants down before sending him a tight smile. Now that you talked about sad memories you hadn't really thought of in months, you knew the mention of your last fight would only break you.

You weren't ready to undergoing the same pain you felt that night.

"I didn't know these talks about my past would take a toll on me, but they have. I don't want to talk about it, but I appreciate the two of you checking up on me- I really do, but I think its time for me to take a shower and maybe nap- it's been a tiring day."

Feeling your discomfort, Florence and Andrew exchanged a weary glance before looking back up to you, hesitantly nodding. Probably an intense memory, they were determined not to mention it again unless you came forward.

"Alright- but give us a call if you ever need a shoulder to cry on or just plain old company!" Florence smiled, wrapping her arms around you for a quick hug before pulling back. "We can even have a sleepover."

"Count me out on that one," Andrew joked, bending down to give you the same hug. "But for real, you can cry on my shoulder any time."

"Thanks," you giggle, soon following them towards your front door as they say goodbye to your dog before departing in their own cars.

What an emotional day it has been.

"Do I really have to go? It's no use- I already seen the film. I don't want to rewatch it," you whine as your manager hushes you.

Walking down the side of the theatre, you clutch onto the oversized, black leather jacket you were wearing as your manager and assistant walked on either side of you, directing to to the entrance of a random theatre in the city.

Since the Oscars, nothing has really changed. It's been about three weeks now and there wasn't chaos anymore- it seemed like news about that night had already faded.

Regularly, you did chat with Florence, Shailene, and Andrew on the phone- individually at times throughout your past weeks- but nothing too crazy.

You all had your busy schedules and your manager was still being as hardworking as ever trying to exploit more of you to the press and on the screen. Safe to say, every time she had news it would always be something impressive.

Except for today, when she proudly announced after barging into your house during breakfast that there was a new film premiere you had to attend.

It's not like you opposed the idea- but you watched the film when the production team invited you to their private screening. It would be useless watching it again.

But as persistent as ever, your manager claimed there would be great press and directors attending the public's premiere, following with "an Oscar-nominated actress like you must make themself remembered."

As dramatic as always- but at least she was highly active in your career.

She did everything to make you get noticed, especially when you were at your lowest point mentally after your breakup.

Now onto past relationships, you hadn't heard any news regarding Pedro since you last saw him. Not that you wanted to, but for some reason he was still on your mind. Due to the fact you did sit with your friends ranting about your shared troubles, that's likely the reason.

But all jokes aside, you seriously can't stop thinking about him.

However, you were too scared to admit this to anyone. You tried telling Florence, but every time you mentioned his name she would immediately disregard him, pissed by how he treated you.

Which you loved that she had your back, but you needed someone else to have his own- oddly.

Maybe it was your head deep in thoughts that revealed how you were feeling, but your assistant seemed to notice that you weren't okay- mentally.

After checking in and finding a small crowd, you accepted that maybe most of the audience were in their seats already despite the film starting in almost an hour. Nudging you once your manager left to find one of the producers, you glanced at her as she motioned you to move towards the wall.

"What's up?"

She made a face, practically laughing at your question before continuing on. "Why don't you tell me 'what's up?' The whole ride here you've been silent and I know it's not because you were tired- you slept all afternoon, what's really up?"

Chuckling, you roll her eyes at how nosy she was being- but you knew she only wanted to help you. After working together for years, it was a ritual both of you performed: don't let the other be sad.

Surprisingly, it worked every time. She would hide you from people who upset you while you let her have more vacation days whenever she felt the same.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're thinking about him, huh."

Eyes widening, you shake your head quickly as she laughs at your poor attempt of denying her idea. But she knew right from the moment you got lost in your head that he was the one to blame.

"Don't worry, I won't tell," she whispered loudly, causing you to shove her as she laughed louder.

"Shut up, someone might hear you," you hiss, watching as she tried holding her breath to stop herself from cackling again. She just looked like a fish in need of water.

"Don't think about him then," she teased. "If it's making you lost in your thoughts! Wait- why is he in your head? I thought you hated him?"

Coughing, you shake your head. "I don't hate him- I could never."

"Never?" she raises a brow in shock. "I think we're seeing some progress here. You're falling back in loveeeee with him."

"No way," you scoffed as she grinned heavily. "I'm just thinking about the Oscars since that was the last work-related event I've been to since today and you know- he was there so he ended up in my mind...for a little."

She slowly nods, teasing a smug as makes it pretty clear she did not believe one word you said. Your assistant has seen everything, so she is quite familiar with your thoughts regarding Pedro.

She knows when your happily, sadly, angrily, and crazily daydreaming about him. In this case, she's stuck between happily and crazily- not seeming to find any hints of fury and sorrow through your expressions.

But definitely warmth and frustration- all due to him not being able to leave your head.

"When are you just going to admit you still love him?" She blurts out, causing you to snap your heard towards her. "Everybody sees it, you obviously have a soft spot for him if you let him be near you."

"Near me? He's never near me," you laugh. "And I never show signs I want him back, I don't. I made it clear for months now after perfectly avoiding him at all costs."

"Yeah, but he's still on your mind- that must mean something," she declares, causing your small grin to fall into a tight line.

That must mean something.

Did it?

Shaking that thought away, you reject her idea. "It means he traumatized me."

"It means you're in denial and scared to be with him again," she replied, placing her hands on her hips. "Look, I just know you two are meant to be. Next time you see him, talk to him. Tell him how much you care for him- even if you don't want to admit it in a lovey-dovey way. It can be friendly!"

Giving her a strange look, she lowers her energy quickly before looking around the room, making sure no one saw how enthuastic she became.

"You get the point!" she rolls her eyes. "Just be nice, maybe the both of you can form a friendship or just drift apart knowing there's no hard feelings."

"But there is hard feelings," you declared, pointing out the obvious.

There is a reason why you two broke up, like there is also a reason why you despise him. It all comes down to history and actions, which you've both experienced- which is why, again, you broke up.

"Just..." she started, thinking about it for a second before sending you a sincere glance. "-give it a shot. If you don't hate him, like you said, it wouldn't be terrible to be civil."

Slowly nodding, you understand where she's coming from. This tension between Pedro and you was getting old, and the fact it was only you adding fuel to the non-existent fire since you've broken up is sad.

Especially when all he's been around you was sweet and considerate of your feelings, leaving you alone when he felt your energy- except for that one night, but you have to admit that was your fault for riling him up.

The roughness of heels came marching your way, forcing the both of you to instantly lift your head- finding your manager striking a fake breaming grin with two men beside her. She was trying too hard.

"Girls! This is Greg and Shawn- the writers of the film!" she exclaimed, fluttering her lashes rapidly as both men awkwardly raised a hand, waving it.

Releasing a tiny chuckle, you do the same as your assistant walks closer, sticking out her hand to fully gain their attention and introduce herself.

What can you say- she was a charmer.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, your manager slightly pulls you closer to the strangers and strangely bobbles her head- preparing whatever gibberish was about to spit out of her talkative mouth.

"Y/n- the boys thought it would be a great idea to sit in the vip selection among other A-listers- isn't that just lovely? We are very grateful for your offer-"

Boys? Oh god- now she was bonding for her hopeful chances of getting a call for an audition.

Compelling a sweet smile, you feel the only possible response you could give them was a meaningless 'thank you so much' after she literally put you on blast to communicate more. The funniest part about this situation was- you already watched the film!

Clearly you never met these writers- but instead the director himself! Your manager should be satisfied enough with that.

"Would you look at the time,-" Greg- you believe, softly gasps while raising his arm to examine the tiny apple watch planted. "Guests are probably filling up in their seats by now, terribly sorry- but we should probably go."

"I hadn't realized how close we were to showtime- we certainly must continue off our conversation after the film is over!" Shawn proclaims, making your manager nod far too quickly. "I look forward to meeting again."

With that, the two men inclined their motions of farewells before taking off down a dimmed hall, likely finding the exact destination set to premiere their comedic film.

Sighing, you send daggers to your managers who barely blinks before coughing out a swift, "What?"

"You really couldn't wait till after the film was over to sweet talk them?"

Dramatically rolling her eyes at your annoyance, she waves you off by your sudden introversion. It was her job to throw her best compliments about you too them, and she knew you were still too young to understand that everything she did was for a cost.

You.

"C'mon grumpy, let's locate the theatre before you start whining that your feet hurt, too."

Feeling your mouth slightly drop from her remark, you hear your assistant cackle right beside you, using her right palm to hold in her giggles while you mentally prepared for what comeback to throw her way.

You got nothing.

Huffing, your legs followed hers as she guided the two of you towards the same hall the men approached minutes before. The closer you've walked, the larger the capacity gathered around.

For such a low-budget film, it sure did gain quite the crowd.

As the rolling of the ending credits flooded the screen once you sat the last two and a half hours trying to act as if you didn't know what was coming next, you wish you had it in you to say the second time made up for the first- but it didn't.

There we have it, tonight was just not your night and endlessly enough- you couldn't blame it on some silly excuse of watching the same film over again.

Not even your assistant's sneaky offerings of her red licorice lifted your blues- and that speaks enough volume to say the least.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" the whole-heartedly voice of your manager's voice filled your ears as the three of you sat in the same lobby as before, still not finding a way to escape a cold room.

Oh how you abominated the sharp hits of the air conditioning- it frankly made coming to the theaters a horror unless layers of clothing and a blanket was tagged along.

"Why can't we leave? The film is done and people are walking out."

"We still have to talk to Shawn and Greg!" your manager declared, presenting a look of pure determination to get her way with their levels of skill.

Groaning, you throw your head in absolute exhaustion. Fairly, if your manager hadn't had made such an early visit during the morning hours you're sure you would've been in a better mood.

It was like the more you interacted, the less energy you had to give.

In order to survive the next few hours, you needed your phone or who knows how your fake laughters will sound.

And you call yourself an actress.

Sliding your hand to the back of your pockets, you wait for the feel of your large iphone to surface- but that moment never comes. Swiftly, you check your leather jacket ones just in case you slipped it there without realizing.

You didn't.

Anxiously glancing towards your assistant, your trembling hands find her arm. "Have you seen my phone? It's not on me."

Examining your hands before meeting your eyes, she shrugs it off. "Relax, no need to have a nervous breakdown- I'm sure you left it in the car with your bag-"

"No, I had it on me during the previews."

"We did go to the bathroom, too- why not just go check those two places?" she suggests. Concerned filled you, hoping nobody was capable of actually stealing your phone- it would be such a hassle getting another one. "I'll check the bathroom, you check our seats."

Agreeing, the two of you sneakily escape your manager when her back was turned, unpleasantly speed walking down the familiar hall before parting ways to your needed locations.

Opening the thick, black doors and striding up the long runway, your eyes are met with the same darkened seating area you were in less than twenty minutes ago.

Then and there, you use this desertion in power- running towards the middle rows consider 'vip' and begin your inspection. Fuck, you wish your had some form of light to help- you couldn't see shit.

Sliding your fingers among the seat, you lift up the cushions in hopes it mysteriously pops up, but all you find is pieces of popcorn and gum glued down.

Gross.

Feeling your eyes begin to water, you were sure you were seconds away from crying like a little kid over the loss of your beloved possession before you heard a deep voice call out for your attention.

"Is this yours? I heard it ringing when I came back in and- uh," the person froze, not having the ability to finish off their sentence as you gradually lifted your body off the floor into their view.

Hopelessly praying the stranger was regarding your phone, your eyes search for their hands first and there it was- your phone!

The corners of your mouth lift up, as well as the creases around your eyes as you internally cheer for your discovery. However, it faltered once you noticed a familiar tattoo laying on one of their palms. Moving your eyes up, you're sure your smile completely disappears once you recognize those brown eyes.

How did you not catch onto his voice from down there?

"Uh- yeah- that's mine," you nervously reply, choking on your words that probably made you sound like you were about to lose consciousness by how strung you were, and hesitantly reach out for the device.

Pedro quietly lets you grab it, not saying one word as your hands collide for a split second before the object was back in your own. You didn't miss the name that appeared on the lit up screen when touched- your assistant must have tried calling you to see if the phone would ring in the bathroom.

Smart.

Avoiding awkward farewells, Pedro swiftly turns around and makes his way down the theatre stairs, not daring to continue on with the barely existing conversation you shared. He's leaving, that fast?

Thinking about all your past interactions, he would always try to chat with you- even when you did give him the coldest shoulder of all time- because that's who he was: kind.

But now he's...walking away?

"Hey- uhm," you begin, following clumsily after him, almost tripping on one of the steps as he reaches his final steps and doubtfully turns your way. Once you stood another step ahead of him, you feel that swirling feeling in your stomach again.

You were nervous- you've never felt this way around him during your breakup- never.

Adjusting your arms inside your jacket, a small smile is extracted out of you as you watch his stay flat. He did not look interested one bit and it frightened you to death. "Thanks for finding my phone- I-I was really scared there for a minute."

Not reacting to your little laugh at the end, he replied- dull. "I didn't know it was yours, I would have given it to guest services if so."

Ouch, you're sure you're hurt expression was recognizable on the outside as much as it pained you on the inside. He really did not want to talk to you, even when you're showing your appreciation.

He really was over you.

"I know," you squeak out, not missing the way his eyes tiredly scanned your own as his body stood there stiff as ever. "I just wanted to thank you, that's all- you saved me a lot of trouble."

Coldly laughing from that, he nods. "I'm sure I have."

Your body tingled with rage as he carelessly ignored your warmth and threw jabs in return. "What's with the attitude? I'm doing nothing wrong here- I'm trying to be friendly."

Inching up, his face presents a sullen one and you immediately feel intimated by the height he owned and used as his advantage. Just the first few seconds before he spoke alone made you feel his displeasure. "And what about all those times I was friendly? I received shit so forgive me for allowing you to experience the same treatment you give others."

Loss for words, you were speechless and didn't know what to say back. For one, you were alarmed by his hard demeanor he gifted to you. Second, humiliation soared throughout as he called out your imperfections.

In other words, he wanted you to know you were a bitch.

"And I take that back but-"

Pedro was about to burst out laughing in front of your face, but he held himself together in sake of your feelings. Can you believe that, despite the misery he still cared for your state of mind. "Taking back isn't apologizing."

Sneering, you cross your arms as his eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "Apologize for what? You were the one who fucked my life over."

Scoffing, he shakes his head in vexation by your lack of empathy- as always. "Countless of times we would contemplate our faults and how we could move on and now you're discounting your wrongdoings- typical."

Pedro did not want to have another unpleasant argument with you, especially in a public setting again, and decided it was best to just walk away. If he kept his mouth shut, he wouldn't make this altercation worse.

Meeting his broad back, you lightly gasp as he ignores you altogether and makes his leave far too early for your liking. Charging towards him, you feel his back solidify once your fingers yank him to a halt.

You were not done with this conversation, but you did know once you got home you were definitely going to regret how toxic you were radiating in the room.

"Typical? What do you mean by that?"

"Knock it off and let me walk away, y/n," Pedro warns, still facing his back towards you after blocking your attempts of moving him. "We both know how badly this will end."

You know, but for some reason you don't want him to leave. Was that so bad?

"No, I wanna hear exactly what you have to say about me- maybe it'll make me recognize the ignorant ego I have."

"You're talking out in anger, you're trying to cause a fire that I won't let you ignite," he simply replies, his eyes still not found by his hidden appearance.

Very poetic.

Scowling profoundly, you don't realize what you're doing until you're finally met with his provoked display after. Stalking around his body, you stand in front of him and jab a finger towards his chest. "You're preventing me from bettering myself, isn't that what you always wanted?"

Leaning down until his face with inches away from yours, you make out his hard features clearly now. His face expressed discomfort as his eyes creased while lifting- even his lips stayed hard as a rock. "I'm going to tell you one more time, let me go."

Ignoring his cold shoulder, he inhaled a sharp breath before taking matters into his own hands. You don't want to listen? Fine. But he wasn't going to let you drag him into this any further.

Right as you push another finger up against him, your wrist was taken and roughly pushed down by your side as Pedro's body practically belted against yours. "Get off me!"

"Not until you stop fucking around," he grunted, immediately widening his eyes in realization. He knows you don't like when he casually curses directly to you- even when he doesn't harm. "Sorry- I-I meant when you stop playing around."

Praying that a smile doesn't escape you, it made you feel some type of way capturing his manners and how even though you two were on rocky terms- he still had some respect for you.

"Why are we even fighting right now?" you sigh, slowly softening your muscles in forfeit.

"You tell me- it sounds like you want my attention," he casually replied, releasing your hands and stepping back an inch. "Considering you won't let me leave."

"I'm just trying to have a normal, polite conversation! Is that so wrong?"

Softly laughing, he shakes his head in disappointment. "You don't get it."

Scrunching your face, you become lost by his words. "Get what?"

Scanning the wall before meeting your eyes again, Pedro motions his hands between the two of you. "What do you think will come out of us having a conversation? Acquaintances? Maybe a friendship?"

Thinking about it for a second, you feel your head eventually nod as he squeezes his eyes shut in return. Was that not what he's been trying to do- end in good terms? "It's what's healthy for us."

"Us?!" Pedro groans, sending you a tired gaze that had you weak to the knees. "There is no 'us' anymore. You made that perfectly clear after causing a scene last month in front of your friends."

"I didn't plan on that happening a-"

"I'm even letting go the bigger scene you caused inside the after party- isn't that enough to understand why I feel this way?" he adds on, frustrated that you would think otherwise.

You were the one who caused the attention and brought a bad look on his name. He should be shouting at you like you would have done to him if the roles were reversed.

"I'm not saying we should get back together, all I want-"

"-is a friendship? Some sort of relation that won't make us strangers?" he interjects, causing you to stay silent. That was all he needed to understand what you really wanted: not to let him go. "Look, we had our history, but I don't think it's good we keep in contact anymore."

You swear you felt all air leave your body as your face felt cold. Was he breaking up with you- in life itself?

"I-uhm don't- I don't understand," you cough, scared to make a bigger fool out of yourself. You're sure you probably look like a ghost by how much color you've lost since his recent reveal and again- you were grateful this room was dim. "Why can't we at least be friends? Not even that- why can't we at least know we have each other in our lives? Why end up as strangers?"

"What do you mean? We hadn't talked to each other in almost a year till last month! We basically are strangers," he exclaimed, causing you to look down at your feet as your heart ached.

He wasn't wrong- you just hadn't realized he's been right. And to blame was you, not him. You pushed him away in the first place, he was only kind enough to oblige.

And it was surely pathetic how now you wanted him back in your life, even if it meant not even talking just to assure yourself he still had your back.

He didn't.

"Y/n..." he sadly muttered, trying his best not to hurt your feelings as you were still continued to stay downwards- not wanting to disclose more hurt. "You didn't even say happy birthday to me, how can you be considered a friend? Friends don't do that, not to me at least."

This caused you to glance back up to him, disagreeing immediately as to what he was trying to get at. Of course you knew it was his birthday, you celebrated two with him in the past! "I didn't want to make things weird-"

"You never do but still avoid me like the plague and breakdown whenever I'm too close to your liking. I'm sorry for trying to do what's best and leave us in the past,-" he explains, closing his eyes in discomfort, "-but I can't keep letting this go on. I'm too old to be going back and forth as if this is some high school relationship- it's not."

High school relationship- you never knew simple three words could have you shrinking in guilt.

"And I know things will be easier for you when the time comes- I won't be around to nag you," Pedro tries to lighten up the mood but you can't break the line upon your lips. You were emotionless and it made Pedro upset.

Why would he be upset? You finally deserved learning your lesson after treating him as if he was nothing to you. But despite all your flaws, he still cared for you.

He cares so much that he's willing to let you go so you can do better things in life- without him.

Trying to find the right words to say, you give up. There isn't much to discuss now that he wants nothing to do with you.

You fucked up- for real this time.

In fact, you shouldn't even be hurt- you wanted this. Or at least that's what you thought before last month when he wasn't on your mind 24/7.

Maybe it was the way he begged for your forgiveness after not seeing each other for so long that made you realize how badly you adored him nearby.

Maybe it was the attention he was giving you after you continuously rejected his pleads, furthering the argument until he stormed off in the end.

And maybe you should've took his concluding estrangement announcement seriously before he left you last month.

But just like they say, you never know what you have until it's gone.

"I see," you quietly respond, slowly nodding as a faint grin forms among Pedro's lips, appreciating your cooperation over this mess. "Maybe it is best if we stray away from each other- you can even delete my number."

"I already have," he accidentally blurts out, not realizing how bad that sounds until he hears it himself and cringes. Your sufferable reaction didn't make things better.

"You know what," you fake a laugh, trying to calm your voice as you feel it about to crack any second. The tears were heading your way- you just knew it. "Fuck you."

Pedro's face falls, taken back by your inappropriate language. "Excuse me?"

Noticing your rushed attitude, he wanted to stop you and tell you everything was alright. That everything was going to be easy and how the two of you would get passed this.

But he knew he'd be lying.

"You heard me, fuck you," you casually slip out, scoffing as his eyes darken. "For someone who's so kind to others, I would have thought you would know what words were right to say."

"You're one to talk, sweetheart," he chuckled, staring at you in repulse. "Every time you talk you always have to neglect someone else, I'm fucking glad I don't have to witness that ever again."

"Me too, my family was right- you are a joke who wasted my time."

With that, you make your leave to have the chance of having the last word. Maybe if you left this room faster he would forget about your comment. You knew it was harsh but you didn't know what else to say.

You wanted him to hurt- but to what extent?

Your arm was instantly tugged as Pedro pulled you back, not letting his grip go as his face was still filled with resentment. "And your team was right, you are a bitch."

Freezing, you stare at him in shock as his face doesn't fall once. What the hell is he talking about? "Get away from me or else-"

"Or else what? Weren't you the one physically blocking me from leaving minutes ago? What has changed?" he tries to smirk, manipulating you into believing how ruthless he could be when really he was dying to tell you the act he was pulling. "Cat got your tongue?"

Your face felt hot with rage as you yanked your arm off his hand, catching him by surprise as you glared at him. "I'm so glad I never took you back, you're fucking pathetic."

"And I'm insanely glad you didn’t, saved thousands returning that fucking ring."

Those twelve words made you halt and even made Pedro speechless. By the staggered look planted on his face, you could tell he didn't mean to say that.

Ring? As in, an engagement ring?

Weakly failing to stand straight, you felt your voice crack. "You were going to propose?"

Shaking his head, he swiftly backed away. "I need to go." Before you could stop him, he was already out of the theatre and probably near larger gatherings of people that would only prevent you from talking about this more.

Holding your face with your hands, you couldn't even cry. You didn't know what to do, you were utterly lost for words.

If he was really going to propose like he hinted at, what meaning did your last fight have? Nothing made sense and you don't know how you could move on from this now that he wanted you out of his life completely.

Hearing doors open, you instantly averted your gaze in hopes he had come back in and planned to properly finish what he started.

Instead, you manager came barging in while gripping onto your assistant's wrist harshly.

"Where the hell have you been?! I've been looking for you everywhere and to find out your stupid assistant-"

"Don't you dare disrespect her," you sternly cut her off, watching as her face falters by your sudden tone. "If you're here to pester us some more, feel free to walk home."

Laughing in shock, your manager tilts her head at your rudeness. "Excuse me? It wasn't my fault your assistant wondered off. After everything I have done to protect you and your career you feel the need to throw me out-"

"Did she hurt you?" you cut her off, focusing on your assistant who has gone quiet. You notice the redness on her small wrists before she slowly nods, looking down in fear your manager would try something else.

"You're fired," you simply state, pushing past your frantic ex- manager as you lightly guide your assistant out the door.

You ignore the rage your ex- manager unveils as you make it back to the lobby. Ignoring the waves random people sent your way in hopes of finding your destined car sooner so you could help your assistant with her injuries and be home already.

And in bed to think about what the fuck just happened tonight.

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babyhatesreality · 2 years ago

Note

Jellybean seems like an important part of the little ones life so I wonder what they would do if her stuffy gets lost? ☀️🧡

HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE

Sooooooo....I'm guessing this ask was made hoping for some major angst, some major tears, and a lot of fluff to even it all out.

My brain thinks different, y'all. Sorry. Hope you enjoy it anyways. I also wanted to make this in-line with another one of my stories, I'm pretty happy with how it fits the world. Thank you for the lovely ask and the opportunity to connect dots <3 <3 <3

*Also- thank you all for your patience- it's been a very turbulent couple of weeks. Hoping to get back into the swing of writing. Thank you!

Careful of your Catchphrase

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, pet names, language, touch of paranoid Papa, super overly dramatic reader (like....SO dramatic ugh), reader feeling angsty (to put it lightly), reader thinks bunny has been kidnapped, bless-their-heart-oh-so-dumb men, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, eyes locked in an intense gaze, then simultaneously breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"I can't believe we pulled it off," Steve said, his lungs beginning to work again properly.

"Shit. Why did that scare me more than any other field agent assignment in recent history?" Bucky grumbled, shaking his head.

"Because you love the target this time," Steve replied back with a relieved grin, stroking his husband's cheek affectionately. He felt almost triumphant in their success.

You'd been with them for nearly two months now, having passed your probation period and been given the official blessing. It had been bliss- fantastic, fun, and full of love. Lots of cuddles, lots of silly and sweet play, lots and lots of cookies, all the time.

Then they got a whiff of Jellybean, your most favorite stuffie in the world.

You dragged that bunny everywhere you were allowed to. She slept in your arms at night, she went to all the parties and playdates and picnics, and she was both an excellent tea party companion and a brave soldier in Daddy's army (bunnies are versatile like that).

But just yesterday, you'd been snuggling on Steve's lap while he worked at his desk, Jellybean cuddled close to you. You were feeling littler than normal, and Steve was happy to indulge you. But having that stuffie practically right under his nose made him suddenly aware of just how much dirt, sweat, and who knows what else was lingering in her soft fur. And when you brought Jellybean's ear to your mouth to suck on, Steve nearly had an nervous breakdown. And then, so did you when they tried to take her from you to wash her.

You were in a littler mindset and didn't understand what was happening, couldn't understand their gentle explanations. All you knew was that you WERE NOT letting that bunny go for anything. It had been a rough couple hours with a lot of tears (which freaked them both out) before they gave up, determined to try again tomorrow.

You were about where you normally were regression-wise today, but you still had lingering anxiety about your beloved Jellybean, so she was firmly in your grasp from the moment you woke up. Steve was losing his mind, freaking himself out with the germs and diseases that he'd conjured up in his mind. He became desperate. Not a good look.

They'd waited until they finally got you down for a nap, then they struck. Moving with the precision of two super soldiers in the Temple of Doom, they'd managed to extract Jellybean from under your arm while you were deeply asleep and replace her with Pipsqueak, your second favorite stuffie (who was going to be due for the same treatment soon, but one step at a time). They'd snuck back out, not making a sound, and had gotten Jellybean into the wash on the gentle cycle. The laundry room door was shut so you wouldn't hear.

Success!

*****************************************************

You woke up about twenty minutes later. Normally, you slept for about an hour during nap time, but...something was off. Something felt wrong. And you recognized it the second you looked down. Jellybean wasn't in your arms. On on your bed. Or on the floor. Or in the room.

Disaster!

You launched yourself from your bed, tearing into the living room where Daddy and Papa were watching some movie. They both sat bolt upright when you catapulted yourself into the room, shocked that you were up.

"Baby, what's wrong??" Steve asked, his eyes wide with alarm. Bucky's eyes darted around the room, instantly on the alert for danger.

"JELLYBEAN!!!" was all you could wail before crumpling onto the floor in a heap, sobbing. You felt strong arms pick you up and cradle you, and a set of fingers combing through your hair.

"Sshh, sshh, it's okay Babygirl," Bucky whispered, trying to calm you down.

"NOT OKAY!! Jellybean is GONE!!" you cried into Bucky's teeshirt.

"Oh, honey, she's not gone, she's just taking a little bath right now."

Your tears instantly stopped at Papa's words. You twisted your head to look at him. "She takin' a baf?" you asked, trying to make it all make sense. Papa nodded. You whipped around back to Bucky, and began pushing against his chest. "Down!!"

"Now, hold on a minute, Trouble..."

"DOWN!!"

"Hey, I know you're upset, but-"

"DOWNDOWNDOWNDOWNDOWN!!!!!!!!!"

Completely shocked at his normally well-behaved little girl's tantrum, Bucky's only working instinct was to give you what you wanted. He set you down quickly and you took off for the bathroom. They exchanged a quick look of panic before following you. Just as they were getting to the bathroom door, you nearly barreled them over tearing out of the room towards the other bathroom. They tried calling after you, but you were on a mission and NOTHING was going to stop you.

"I've never seen her freak out like this before," Bucky muttered to Steve while they followed your frantic footsteps.

"I know," Steve whispered back, his anxiety going through the roof. "I had no idea she was going to take it this way. What do we do?"

"Hell if I know." They both stopped talking as you threw yourself back into the hallway, skidding to a halt right in front of them, your eyes crazed.

"She not in the bafroom!!" you shrieked in an accusatory tone. "You said she was takin' a baf!" Before they could even inhale to try to answer you, a brilliant idea came to you. "She YITTLE! She take baf in da sink!!" And you were running like your feet were on fire to the kitchen sink. You looked- and she wasn't there either.

Bucky and Steve caught up to you as you were pacing, thinking so hard you looked like you were trying to solve world hunger. "She can't take baf in dishwasher or washin' machine- she dwown in dere..." you mused to yourself. You didn't see the look of pure horror that Steve and Bucky exchanged. If you realized that they put your precious bunny in the washing machine and drowned her, you would have a major meltdown, or worse- never forgive them. Their attentions jerked back to you as you stopped pacing.

"She been kidnapped!!" you gasped in horror, coming to the only logical conclusion left to you.

"Oh, baby, she's not-"

"JARVIS!!!" you screamed at the top of your lungs to the AI, making Steve and Bucky wince. "NEED TO TALK TO EVERYONE, NOW!!"

"As you wish, Princess."

"No, no, JARVIS, you don't need to-"

"A direct line to the team is open, Princess."

You took the biggest breath you could, and screamed with all your might.

"AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!!!!!!!!!!!"

Steve and Bucky just stood there frozen in shock, jaws on the floor, dumbfounded at your battle cry. They couldn't even find the words to respond.

The silence didn't last for long.

Suddenly, an almighty crash shook the entire apartment. Steve dove for you, his protective instinct taking over, as Bucky jumped in front of both of you. Before you even realized what really happened, you heard loud footsteps thundering down the hallway.

"NONE SHALL SURVIVE THAT HAVE CAUSED HARM TO THIS FAMILY!" Thor roared, dressed in full battle gear, charging into the living room, breathing hard and wielding Mjolnir. He whipped his head around, hammer raised, surveying the territory. When he only found Steve and Bucky frozen in shock and confusion with you desperately squirming to get out of Steve's arms, he lowered his hammer and joined in the looks of confusion. "I...think I may have acted in earnest," he said sheepishly.

"NO!" you wailed, thrashing with all your might. "I need you Unca Thor!! Jellybean been KIDNAPPED!!!"

"Jelly...bean? Someone has taken your colorful sugar candies that are shaped like kidneys?"

"No, Jellybean is my bunny!! She my best friend in da whole world and she GONE!!" you yelled as you wildly twisted in Steve's arms. He finally unlocked his frozen limbs and set you down, and you immediately made a mad dash right for Thor. "We gotta find her!!!"

Thor's confused gaze slowly flicked up to Steve and Bucky. They both frantically pantomimed that the bunny was in the washing machine. Thor nodded in relieved understanding, before smiling down on you. "Not to worry, young one, it seems as though your Jellybean is-"

He suddenly cut himself off when Steve and Bucky wildly shook their heads for him to stop, then silently indicated that you would lose your mind if you knew. Thor stared at them so long with such confusion that you turned around to see what was going on. Bucky immediately started staring around the room, the walls suddenly the most interesting thing he'd ever seen, while Steve gave you one of his hearty Captain America everything-is-fine salutes. You looked at them curiously, but then turned your attention back to Thor. Bucky and Steve frantically resumed their charades, finally making Thor understand that under no circumstances should you be informed of where Jellybean actually was.

"Jellybean is what, Unca Thor?" you asked desperately.

"...Jellybean has...definitely been kidnapped," he finished lamely, unable to come up with another excuse on the fly as Steve facepalmed and Bucky inaudibly groaned. "But I'm sure she'll be returned in...an hour or so?"

Before you could question that, Tony came charging into the room. "Squirt, what's the problem?" he said in a rush, locking eyes with you a split second before taking in the rest of the room and the three other dumbfounded men. His eyebrows constricted as he tried to make sense of the scene. You quickly explained the horrors of your missing bunny, and his eyebrows slowly crept into his hairline as you tripped over your words in your distress. After another round of charades behind your back, Tony was up to speed. He stood up straight, trying to think his way around this one, but only came up with one thing.

"I assume that's why there's a Thor-sized hole in the wall where your front door used to be?" he asked Steve, who turned to Thor in exasperation.

"I was in earnest," Thor explained, shrugging. You stomped your feet, frustrated.

"Unca Tony, we gotta get Jellybean back! I need the 'Vengers to help me!" you pleaded.

"Uhhhh...okay squirt, it's okay," he said, thinking about how Peter would react if his favorite toy went missing. "Why don't we...make sure that she's not in the apartment first? Huh? That's a good idea, right? Of course it is, let's go."

"No, I already look everywhere! She not here!!" you insisted before charging over to him, and holding your arms up. He instantly picked you up, assuming that you wanted comfort, but instead you started pushing on his chest.

"Whatcha doing, honey?" he asked, confused and curious.

"Where's your button that makes your suit go on??" you grumbled as you punched all over his chest. "I KNOW it here somewhere." He would have snickered had you not clearly been so upset.

"I don't think I'm going to need my suit here, kiddo." He nodded sanctimoniously when you gasped in agreement.

"You right! You need money!" He stopped nodding. "In case da kidnappers want me to pay for Jellybean! Can I have a million dollars?"

Tony slow burn glared at Steve. "What the hell are you two letting her watch?" he muttered as they stared at you, once again shocked. You shook your head.

"No, Unca Tony! 'Member you said to Unca Bruce dat you wouldn't pay kidnappers after Pietro broke your record thingy. But dis different. I need a million dollars please." It was Bucky and Steve's turn to glare at Tony, who turned a deep red and set you down quickly.

"Moving right along," he said after clearing his throat. That's when Natasha and Clint came strolling in. Natasha looked around at all the craziness calmly.

"So. What seems to be the trouble here?" she asked you kindly, but the rest of the team could see the hints of the smirk on her lips.

"Aunt Nat, Jellybean is gone!" you wailed, running over to her. "She been kidnapped and I can't find her and the 'Vengers gotta find her please!"

Natasha leaned down just a bit and smoothed your hair away from your face. "Hold on there, honey bunny," she said in her calmest voice. "Take a deep breath for me, okay?" You nodded tearfully, but did as she asked. "Good girl," she praised soothingly. "Tell you what. Can Uncle Clint get you some juice while I talk to your daddies for a minute?"

"But...but we gotta find Jellybean!" you said, your breath catching as you started to get worked up again. "Gotta find her, please!!"

"And we will, I promise," she said, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "But I think I need to get some information before we start looking, okay? Can you be a big girl and let Uncle Clint get you some juice please? Then we'll find her, I promise," After another moment and another big breath, you nodded.

"Atta girl," Clint said, scooping you up and taking you to the kitchen. You tearfully explained the whole saga to him while he sat you down on the kitchen island and poured you a sippy cup full of apple juice, nodding seriously as you explained everything. He knew all too well the intense emotions that came with regression, especially when it came to favorite stuffies, and how important it was for caregivers to take your feelings seriously. He was also trying to distract you from the hisses and the whispers of the violent verbal battle happening in the living room behind you.

Your head whipped around when you heard Bucky hiss loudly "Natasha, NO," as Aunt Natasha walked briskly into the kitchen. She gently nudged Clint out of the way and stood in front of you.

"We go find Jellybean now?" you asked her hopefully, your sippy cup still clutched in your hands.

"Jellybean is just fine, sweetheart," she said reassuringly. Your eyes became as round as saucers as you took in her meaning.

"You know where Jellybean is?!" you shrieked, before attempting to launch yourself off the island. Aunt Nat was just as quick as Papa was when you were trying to escape bedtime. She popped you onto her hip and started walking towards the laundry room with 4 anxious and confused men and one snickering one in tow.

"I do know where she is, and she's perfectly okay," Natasha said gently, bouncing you a bit. "I'm going to take you to see her."

"Natasha, don't," Steve said, his teeth gritted, his tone between a command and a plea. You looked over her shoulder at your daddies who appeared to be sweating bullets, but you didn't understand why.

Natasha completely ignored them and marched right into the laundry room, you still firmly on her hip. She pointed to the spinning laundry behind the front loader's door. "Jellybean is right there, baby. She's taking a bath, just like your daddies said she was."

Your eyes filled with tears. "But...but she...what if she dwown?" you asked fearfully, looking at Natasha with large, pleading, watery eyes as the rest of the team, crowded in the doorway, all held their breath in fear.

Natasha brushed your hair away from your eyes again and rubbed her nose against yours. "She won't drown, sweetheart. This is how furry friends take baths. They're special like that. They can breathe just fine in the washing machine, and then after they dry they smell so nice and fresh and clean- just like you do after you take your bath!" Steve and Bucky felt their blood turn to ice in terror, waiting for what they were sure was going to be another meltdown from you.

"Jellybean okay?" you asked again, your eyes darting to the window and back to hers.

"Jellybean is okay, I promise. You wanna see?" Natasha put you down and knelt in front of the window. "It's okay, I promise. Come look," she encouraged. You carefully sat down on the floor next to her, still not sure about this. You suddenly saw hint of soft grey fur slide past the window- that was her!!

You slapped your little hands on the window, desperate for another look at your bunny. "Aunt Nat, you SURE she's okay?" you asked again.

"Very sure. In fact, Buttons took a bath just like this a couple days ago, and Wanda had her yesterday, remember?" Natasha said. "Same thing will happen with Jellybean. She'll be just fine." You thought about it- Wanda did have Buttons the Bear with her last night! And she had been okay!

"Oh. Okay den," you said, suddenly calm as could be. You plopped back down on your butt, scootching backwards to lean up against the wall. "I wait here for her baf to be done. Tank you, Aunt Nat!" You casually sipped on your juice as Steve and Bucky's jaws hit the floor again. How the hell were you so calm now, when five seconds ago you were all headed for World War Three?!

Natasha chuckled and gave you a kiss on the top of your head before turning around and walking out of the room. All the men crowded in the doorway parted to let her pass, except Clint, who had collapsed against the wall, silently laughing at the others' dumbfounded expressions. Natasha turned back to them.

"You all are idiots," she said simply with a smile, before turning and walking out of the Thor shaped hole in the front wall while Clint howled with laughter.

#daddy!stucky x little reader #daddy!stucky #daddy stucky #daddy stucky x little reader #daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky #daddy bucky x little reader #daddy!steve #daddy!steve rogers #daddy!steve rogers x little #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy steve #daddy steve x little reader

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angelsnkisses · 1 year ago

Text

nsfw headcanons - charlie walker

‼️ NSFW - MDNI ‼️

warnings: sub!charlie, dom!reader, edging, unprotected sex, creampie.

• charlie seems like a switch, in my personal opinion! a soft top some days and a whimpering, begging bottom other days.

• one day he decided to just tell you the truth, that he loved topping you, but he wanted to try being under your influence for a change.

• he was over the moon when he found out you were into the idea, and he hadn't been able to get enough of it since.

• he'd sit on the edge of the bed with his legs parted, panting and gasping while you worked on his hard cock.

"oh f-fuck.. oh my god, ohh~"

• he just can't stop whining for you <3. he'll grip the bedsheets under him, his head dropping forward, hair falling in his face as he makes pathetic little noises.

"please, please, please! fuck, i'm gonna cum, i'm gon- oh fuck, please don't stop."

• much to his dismay, you do stop, pulling your lips away from his dick with a sweet smile.

"n-no! no, no, nonono please, fuck.."

• tears would be streaming down his face, his legs trembling as he desperately tries to buck his hips up, searching for friction.

• when you stand up and wipe your mouth he thinks you're gonna leave him there, beginning to plead with you all over again.

"wait, wait i'm sorry- i'll be good, please let me cum!"

• you would just shush his loud begging, straddling him slowly. you didn't plan on going anywhere, just changing position.

"oh thank you, thank you baby, thank you."

• he's just so polite, grateful you're gonna let him finish :). how could you not? it was impossible to say no to him.

• his head was thrown back as you sunk onto him, a low moan leaving his lips at the tightness of your pussy around his aching cock.

• he can't stop whimpering, his voice cracking as you ride him like a porn star, egging him on with your own moans.

"you f-feel so good~ so, so good, i love you so much, fuck!"

• when you finally let him cum he loses his fucking mind, white-knuckling the sheets and shaking as he fills up your pussy, cum painting your walls.

"oh my god, oh shit~"

• he's trembling for a good five minutes after, quietly crying into your shoulder as he thanks you over and over, mumbling how much he loves you.

• you best believe he'd need aftercare. stroking his pretty, long hair, telling him how good he did, reminding him that he's all you want, just general wholesome attention <3.

• he'd fall asleep with his head on your chest, hugging your stomach and snoring quietly. he just loves you so much, you make him feel so good :(.

A/N: y'all i am so sorry if this is trash, i rarely write sub!males and it shows. still, i had fun with this one :). lmk what you think, happy scrolling!

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #charlie walker #scream 4 #scream #mdni #angelsnkisses

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gyll-yee-haw · 11 months ago

Note

ok but imagine jake has been away filming for so long and one time when you talk through the phone late at night you tell him you miss him sm and along the lines you say sth like „i can’t even come without you anymore” and he goes insane on dirty talk just to be at your doorstep the next day i-

PLEASE, I FOUND THIS ON MY DRAFTS FROM LITERALLY YEARS AGO 😭

I edited a bit and decided to give y'all an early Christmas presents, love you <3

Warnings: masturbation, phone sex, mentions of a reader who struggles to cum, very desperate reader, tiny mentions of being tied up and a lil dom!Jake.

You and Jake had been together long enough for you to get used to all his travels and how busy he got at work. But you still didn't.

He was now away for almost three months. You were losing your mind.

It was another one of those nights when you walked into your bedroom and sighed sadly before going to bed. Jake wasn't there to hold you. To talk to you with his sweet and relaxing voice while you rested your head on his chest and fell asleep.

That must be why sleeping was so hard. Why you kept tossing and turning and sighing frustratedly. You were angry. Sad. Exhausted. You gave up and decided to call him. You hated to bother him and you didn't want him to feel guilty for working so hard. But taking to him was usually the only thing that made you feel better on nights like that.

"Hi, love." He greeted you happily.

"Hey… oh god, it's so good to hear your voice." You told him, feeling a little better already.

"It's great to hear yours too." He chuckled. "So, how was your day?"

The two of you spent a few minutes telling each other stories that happened since the last time you talked. It was amazing, he warmed your heart and made you laugh a lot.

But at some point, the atmosphere got a little sad again.

"I just wish you were here with me." He told you. "Everytime I go out I see something and think 'I bet y/n would love this'… would be a lot more fun if you were here."

"Yeah, I think about you all day too." You said. "And then I curse you for being so fucking hot."

"What do you mean, honey?" He laughed.

"I'm desperate." You admited. "I'm so used to you fucking me so good. And now I can't even cum without you anymore."

There was a little moment of silence on the phone.

"Wait…" He finally said. "Are you telling me you didn't cum at all these last months?"

When Jake traveled for only a few days, you always made a deal to not masturbate, cause when you saw each other again, it would be awesome. But since he would be away for months, you agreed it would be okay, in case you needed to.

"No, all I do is disappoint myself." You shrugged.

"We need to fix that, baby…" He suggested. "Come on, do you want my help? I'm here now... listen to my voice and do what I say, okay, princess?"

Something about that drastic change on the tone of the conversation gave your stomach butterflies.

"Okay... what... what should I do?" You asked.

"Okay, listen to me." He instructed you. "You're gonna lay on your back. Take your panties off. Flex your knees like I was on top of you and you were wrapping them around my waist... like you could feel me deep inside you, remember that feeling?"

Your heart was racing. You really hoped that would work, cause he was getting you worked up now.

You followed every step of his plan, and told him: "Done".

"Good girl. Now spit on your fingers and start touching your pussy until you're wet enough."

You brought your fingers to your mouth, then guided them to your folds, trying to recreate the path Jake's tongue usually follwed. But it still felt like you were touching any other part of your skin. It wasn't like that with Jake. Whenever he just LOOKED at your pussy he already had you bucking your hips.

"Baby?" He called after you were silent for too long.

"It's boring." You told him.

"Use your imagination, honey." He chuckled. "If I was there, what would you like me to do to you?"

"Anything you wanted. Absolutely anything at all."

"Oh yeah?" You could hear the smirk on his voice. "I think I would like to tie your hands above your head and rub the tip of my cock on your clit until you were crying. Then I would shove it inside you at once, and fuck you mercilessly, make you look like a dumb little slut, absolutely speechless, but so fucking beautiful with her eyes rolled back, screaming my name…"

"Fuck." Now you were wet. And even more desperate than before. There wasn't a single cell on your body that didn't crave his touch. "You're making it worse…"

"Oh my God, baby…" He ignored your negativity. "You can't imagine how fucking hard I am for you now."

"Let me see!!!" You begged. "Let's FaceTime instead."

"No, keep touching yourself." He said firmly.

"Please, I can't do it…" You insisted.

"I am helping you, angel. You have to learn how to take care of yourself when I'm not home." He explained.

"What about a video? Or just a photo?"

"Don't be a little brat just because I'm not there to slap you. I can simply turn my phone off and go to sleep, leave you on your own. Is that what you want?"

"No, sorry, sir…"

"Good. Now touch your clit, baby… just I do, you know how you like it."

You closed your eyes and tried to picture the things he said before. You lead two fingers to your clit and started rubbing it slowly. At first, it still felt like nothing. But when you hit just the right spot, your back arched and you moaned.

"Yes, good girl… feel good, huh?" He reacted to your moans.

"Yes, Jakey… fuck…"

You kept rubbing that very specific spot and moaning just to let Jake know you were feeling good. Still wasn't as good as it was when he did it with his big fingers, but at least you were feeling something.

"You sound so beautiful right now, angel. Wish I was there to taste you. That's why I don't wanna FaceTime you, honey. Do you think I'm not dying to see that pretty pussy? Of course I am, but it hurts that I can't put my mouth on it. Lick it real good until your legs are shaking around my head. I miss it so much, fuck…"

His words alone were driving you crazy, but it was the sound of him stroking his cock that made your pussy clench around nothing.

"Talk to me, pretty girl. I'm stroking my cock, thinking of you too." He asked sweetly.

"Fuck... need you… what if I can't do it?"

"You can do it, baby. Don't you feel good right now? Rub it harder, baby."

"Hhmm... I need to cum so bad…" You grew more desperate as time passed and you couldn't even imagine how terrible it would be to not be able to do it that night.

"You will, angel. Looks like I'm gonna have to give you a lesson about patience when I come back." He threatened you, and you would do anything to have those lessons now.

The waves kept coming and going. Just when you thought were going to cum, you got all excited but it went away. You were so fucking wet that your fingers slipped through your folds and you missed the spot several times, making you sigh frustratedly. Jake knew it usually didn't take you that long, and he was getting close himself, just picturing you laying there desperate, soaked, legs in the air, rubbing your pussy so hard while you thought about him.

"I can't do it, I can't." You cried out.

"Please, babygirl." He was the one begging now. "Please cum for me, be a good girl for me, I can't hold it much longer…"

You closed your eyes and imagined he was sitting right beside you, ready to shoot his load on your belly and your breasts. It was a pretty realistic fantasy, cause you could hear his moans through the phone, indicating he was really close.

That was it. Suddenly, another one of those waved came. This one was so strong, and just wasn't going away like the others did.

"OH FUCK!" You moaned loud and excitedly. "I'm coming right now, oh my God, right… now... fuuuuck…"

"Yes, babygirl, do it…" He said, feeling his own orgasm building. "Don't stop, oh fuck…"

Fucking finally. It had been so long. Your back arched and all your muscles flexed and you moaned during every second of it. When your body relaxed, you weren't capable of doing anything, not even thinking.

"Baby, talk to me, fuck." Jake called for the third time, but you didn't even hear the first ones.

"I did it." You told him, all smiley. "I'm in heaven, I swear. Fuck... I needed this, so bad..."

"Proud of you, babygirl." He chuckled. "But you should have told me this so much earlier."

"I definitely should." You agreed. "Do you think we can do this again someday?"

"Not a chance." He sighed frustratedly. "I swear I'm getting on the first plane tomorrow. My baby needs me and it breaks my heart to not be there for her..."

After all, you knew that both of you could touch yourselves all you wanted, even together like you just did, but nothing would compare to the real thing.

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x yn

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highqueenofelfhame · 2 years ago

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rowaelin // 5.8k words // masterlist // ciwyw masterlist let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing :) i hope you enjoy <3 i can't wait to see all your comments. y'all are kILLING me with them on this one.

As much as he knew he shouldn’t be, Rowan was drunk. Again.

Tomorrow they had a match against Adarlan on Doranelle’s home field. While Rowan laid on his back, staring at the ceiling fan above him with a full half-empty bottle of whiskey resting on his stomach, he knew they were going to lose. Not because Adarlan was better or because they wanted it more, but because Rowan was a selfish piece of shit and couldn’t put the bottle down. There was no way he would be in any condition to play tomorrow— at least not well.

Burying his sorrows at the bottom of the bottle seemed like the better alternative until he could figure out how to repair what he had catastrophically obliterated. It had been a full week with no word from Aelin. Not a single one of those days had passed without him sending an apology text into the void. There had even been a few voicemails Wednesday night that went unanswered. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was erasing them without bothering to listen. He deserved that much.

Rowan Whitethorn had never had social media. Ever. Not even in high school when it was just becoming a cool thing to do. Nobody needed to know that much about his life. At this point in his career, his agent and PR team begged him to do it because it would garner him more popularity. Even Lorcan posted on instagram from time to time and kept everyone happy.

The thing that finally drove Rowan to making an instagram account was stalking Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. It was easier for his thumbs to scroll through her feed while nursing sips of whiskey, trying not to double tap on any pictures. He was pathetic enough— Aelin didn’t need to be aware of his sulking and pining.

This all came after he googled her name paired with various words like ‘spouse,’ ‘husband,’ ‘wife,’ and ‘wedding.’ Nothing came back with a result, but it had been lurking in his mind when she didn’t answer his question earlier. Besides, Rhoe Galathynius very well could have been her father-in-law. As it were, she wasn’t married, and Evalin and Rhoe only had one child: their daughter. At least if she was married, there was no record of it. No photos of her in an elegant white gown standing next to the love of her life.

Good. He could deal with that.

What he couldn’t deal with was the photos of her in bikinis, arms wrapped around the waists of other men. She was nestled between the pair on the deck of a yacht all three of them with wide smiles and sunglasses covering their eyes. Her bathing suit looked more like lingerie and Rowan had never wished so hard for summer to come back around than he was right then.

There were pictures of her with a stunning brunette woman, both of them dressed in finery or night-out attire depending on where they were headed. Aelin with a full face of makeup, with sultry dark eyes and a full pouty lip was enough to drive him into madness.

He found photographs from holidays with her family, Aelin perched on a couch in comfy clothes and thick socks with Aedion Ashryver standing behind her. Further down her page he found the ones from years ago of her on Aedion’s shoulders after he won some match or another. It was captions Always my hero.

Lower and lower he went until he finally hit her first post: a simple kingsflame flower from nine years ago with the caption Fireheart. He supposed that was where she garnered the name for her foundation. Gods above, she was incredible. A super-hero amongst ordinary women.

Rowan scrolled back towards the top of her instagram, all the way back to the most recent one. It was from their day downtown, when they had bought a piece of chocolate hazelnut cake and sat outside the bakery. Aelin was laughing around her thumb that she held between her teeth. At that moment, he had been teasing her about getting the frosting everywhere. Behind the camera he was smiling just as brilliantly as she was. The light in her eyes, her smile, the utter joy that radiated off of her… It was enough to make him breathless all over again.

“Fuck,” he murmured to himself, heart squeezing and soul dying at how absurdly beautiful she was. It didn’t seem fair. Everything about her was perfect. Not just outside, but inside, too. Aelin Galathynius was the most selfless and loving person he had ever met. Inside and out, she shone with the light of a thousand suns. It made it impossible to look away and broke his heart that he had driven her away so sharply.

“M’such a bloody dobber,” he mumbled, zooming in on her face as close as it would get, until she was little more than a monochromatic cluster of pixels, none of her features distinguishable.

The phone fumbled where he held it over his face, falling directly onto it. Rowan swore, the taste of metal blooming over his tongue where his tooth had cut through his lip. Worse than that, though, was when he noticed the giant heart that appeared in the center of the picture he’d been staring at.

Rowan had accidentally liked it. Just as quickly, he unliked it and tossed his phone to the other end of the couch. Jail. He needed to be in phone jail.

It had over ten thousand likes and three hundred comments. There was a chance she would never notice the notification appearing and disappearing. She might never notice. It didn’t stop the ice creeping into his veins, though. The idea that she would realize how utterly pathetic he was, as if all the texts weren’t indication enough.

Rowan swore violently under his breath and grabbed his phone again. With bleary, bloodshot eyes he opened their text thread to send off another message. Just as his fingers started their drunken dance over the letters once again, his phone began to ring loudly. The vibration shook him to his core as he beheld the name flashing on his screen, a photo of the two of them laying on her couch flashing in front of him. The sight of it knocked the wind out of him.

Aelin.

Fuck. Shit. Mala fucking fry him.

“Hello?” he said, breathless like he’d been running a marathon.

“Hi.” Aelin’s voice was quiet. Rowan could imagine her sitting in the middle of her couch, a tv show paused.

“I am so sorry, baby,” he began, letters and syllables stringing together with no space between. “I need to explain, to—”

“Did you just like that picture on my instagram?”

“I…” it was long and drawn out as he squinted at the ceiling, trying to find a way out of it. There wasn’t one. Heat crept up his neck and bloomed over his cheeks like rose petals. “Ye-yeah. That was me.”

“Are you drunk?” was her follow up question. On the other end of the phone it sounded like she was rolling over in bed. Gods, he would love to be wrapped up in bed with her. The expanse of her golden skin under his hands wasn’t beat out by anything, not even football.

“No,” was his quick response.

“You sound drunk.” It was impossible to tell what, exactly, her emotions were. Rowan swallowed thickly, setting the bottle on the coffee table and nudging it out of reach.

“I sound like a pathetic bastard that ruined something perfect.”

“You’re definitely drunk.” If Rowan wasn’t positive that she hated him, he might mistake her tone as amusement.

“I miss you. And I’m sorry,” he paused to hiccup, “And I want you to tell me what to do to fix what I’ve broken.” A heavy, resigned sigh came through the phone and Rowan froze.

“Start with sobering up–” Fuck. She was going to hang up, and he had blown his only chance at making things right. Shit.

“Don’t hang up,” Rowan pleaded, lip tucking between his bottom teeth while he waited for her to respond.

“Get some sleep and win your game tomorrow. After that… maybe we can talk.” If that was what it took, then yes. A thousand times yes he would do both of those things. Anything to get her to talk to him, anything so he could hold her, feel her lips on his skin, taste her and feel her beneath him.

“Do you promise?” A schoolyard thing to say, but he couldn’t help it. The gift of hearing her voice again after an entire week of deafening silence was the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine hearing. If he could, he’d bottle it up and get drunk off it. It was better than any alcohol, any drug.

“I promise,” she replied, and Rowan swore he heard a hint of laughter weaving between each letter of those two, simple words. That couldn’t be right, though. Aelin was mad at him. They wouldn’t be laughing together anytime soon.

“Okay.” It felt stupid to say, but it was the only word he could find.

“Okay.” Aelin’s voice was still soft and told him nothing of the status of his forgiveness, or if he needed to beg on his knees and worship her as penance. He would never, ever stop if that was what she required. “Goodnight, Rowan.”

The line went dead before he could say anything else and a new zap of determination electrified his blood. If she wanted a win, she would get it. But he had to get sober first.

With a pained groan, he pulled himself upright. A few deep breaths later the room wasn’t spinning quite so quickly and he was able to stumble to the kitchen. The smell of coffee made his nose wrinkle when he opened the bag. It quickly filled the space of the kitchen as he dumped the beans into the grinder, wincing at the shriek it made. Coffee and bread would help sober him up, and then he would focus on fluid intake to not be a useless sack of meat on the field tomorrow.

He leaned against his counter, ignoring incoming messages from his teammates checking on him, and shoved half a piece of bread into his mouth. A cold shower would wake him up, and tons of water and painkillers before bed would help the hangover tomorrow.

Anything Aelin wanted, he would give her. Starting tomorrow night by defeating the Adarlan Wyverns and handing it to her on a silver platter.

When he finally drifted off to sleep, his phone screen was still illuminated in his palm: that final photo he’d taken of her at the bakery wearing a smile just for him.

~*~

As soon as she took one step into the Neon Moon, she found Connall looking over at her with a healthy dose of surprise in his eyes. Aelin moved through the crowd that had gathered to watch the game, managing to snag a single barstool in front of the beer tap.

“Water, please,” she half-shouted over the loud voices filling the room. As soon as it was in her hands she took a long drink before placing it down on a napkin in front of her. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” A crooked grin spread across his face and he leaned forward on his forearms. “Watching the game?”

“Against my better judgment,” she sighed, ruffling her fingers through her hair. Now that she knew that he played for Doranelle, she just couldn’t miss it. Had she known from the get-go, there wouldn’t have been a single game that she missed. Even if it meant she’d be catching up on work during the short commercial breaks. “How much do you know?”

“Oh just… everything.”

Aelin groaned and looked up at the ceiling. She wasn’t upset that he’d told his friends, his support system. Rowan needed that, just like she did. Though she had yet to tell her family, she was going to do it soon. Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Some of the dust had to settle with Rowan first.

Though she was content to let him stew for a few more days, the single like she’d gotten from an account called actuallywhitethorn made her pick up the phone. A result of her doom-scrolling before bed, the notification had dropped from the top of her screen. By the time she clicked her notification icon, that particular like from that specific account was gone. It was like fate, she decided, for her to have seen it in its brevity. If he was miserable and pining enough to accidentally like an instagram picture, it wouldn’t hurt to call him. So she did.

At first, she didn’t know what to say, but as he talked it became more and more clear that he was very drunk. All his words had melded into one long syllable, and the fact that he was likely drinking away his feelings and problems had tugged at her heart. He really was adorable when he was drunk, calling her baby and trying his hardest to apologize, begging her not to hang up the phone. As much as she really did want to talk to him, it wasn’t a conversation to have while he was only half-aware. The apology she deserved needed to come from his sober lips, not drunk, loose ones.

After they hung up, Aelin had decided she would go to the bar to watch the game. It didn’t seem like a feat she could conquer at home alone on her couch. Even with Lysandra a phone call away, it felt too big to do on her own. The bar made sense.

“Congratulations?” Connall offered, and it was the first time she’d really picked up on any shyness or hesitancy from the man.

“Thank you.” It was still so new, so foreign. The racing of her thoughts hadn’t died down about it yet, her emotions didn’t have a full grasp on the situation. “How is he?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.” Kind of. If his texts were any inclination to his mental state, he was having a rough go of things at the moment. “Feels like a piece of shite.”

“Yeah, well.” That was a little deserved after what he’d said to her. Connall didn’t seem to disagree, merely shrugging as he followed her eyes to the television.

The game had been on for fifteen minutes, and Doranelle had scored one point. Adarlan had nothing. It was a bit of a feat to score so early on in the game, showing just how skilled Rowan and his teammates were. A camera zoomed in on the players, a towering, dark-haired man with a glove tucked under his arm, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Aelin’s eyes widened and her head whipped toward Connall when the spitting image of him appeared on the screen. The only difference was the color of the curls: Connall’s were black, his brother’s golden.

“You have a twin?” By way of answer, Connall merely winked and nodded back at the TV where Rowan had come into view. His uniform for home games was navy blue with white letters. Hands braced on his hips, he joined his teammates where they talked. It was only when he turned around that she saw how horrible he looked.

Though his skin was golden brown as ever, his face was ashen. Dark circles clung beneath his eyes and his bottom lip was swollen and scabbed over. The sweat gathering at his temples didn’t do anything at all to make him look well, if anything he just looked sicker.

“Whitethorn looks a bit… peaky,” Connall said cautiously, the corners of his lips tugging downward into a scowl.

“As drunk as he was when I called him last night, that makes perfect sense.” She was frowning, too. The most put together part of him was his hair, the single french braid down the center until it all met in a mess of a bun on the top of his head.

As soon as the whistle blew, he inhaled and exhaled a deep breath. That was when the cameras zoomed back out to take in the entire field, all the players getting into position. Aelin watched closely, one eye on the ball and the other always aware of where Rowan was in the frame.

For a while, it was a lot of passing back and forth, working up and down the field, the ball getting stolen one way or the other. Once, Adarlan got close to scoring but the goalie for Doranelle was quick to block it and pass it back down the field. Another of Rowan’s teammates was quick to get it back toward the Adarlan goal. It was passed back and forth between a few as they worked further and further down the pitch until a pass from Connall’s twin had the ball being juggled between Rowan’s feet.

Watching Rowan play brought back the old feelings she felt watching Aedion. Her competitive temper rose in her chest as he sprinted downfield with the ball between his feet. Somehow, he never tripped or stumbled. When he passed it off to a dark-haired man, Vaughan, Connall told her, it was with tricky footwork that he made look easy. Seconds later and a single pass back toward him, Rowan lunged from behind a crimson jersey. By some grace of the gods he managed to land the perfect kick that arched beautifully through the air. Adarlan’s goalie missed it by a fingertip.

The bar became deafening– some of them rooting for Doranelle, others wanting them to lose for the sake of Varese’s team. On the TV, Rowan’s teammates pulled him off the ground and jostled him amongst them, Connall’s golden-haired brother smacking a kiss to Rowan’s sweaty forehead.

If Aelin didn’t know any better, she would say his teammates were being a little more gentle with him than they might be otherwise. Rowan’s jaw remained clenched tightly, that muscle feathering as he nodded to the only person on the team that was taller than him where he stood down the field.

“Who is their goalie?”

“Lorcan Salvaterre. Team captain and one of Rowan’s closest friends. My twin’s name is Fenrys.” Aelin nodded and rested her chin on her hands as the next play started, polished blue nails digging into her palms. She knew of most of these names from Aedion’s soccer days and the afternoons at her parents house where her father prattled on about different team rosters.

The minutes ticked by, Rowan fiercely focused on the game. That look of sheer determination never left his eyes, even in the brief moments of reprieve he had to gather his wits. Whenever he could, Connall hovered near her for the moral support she’d come in search of. It meant more to her than she could ever put into words. Being in a new city, far away from her support system, with no one else to lean on? It was really nice to know he was there. Even if they barely knew each other.

When Adarlan scored, Aelin had over half the pub groaned. The Doranelle players looked beyond pissed. Rowan and Lorcan shared matching expressions, both of their jaws grinding as they shook their heads before getting back into position.

It led them into more volleying back and forth, the ball little more than a blur between feet. And then it was back in Rowan’s possession. It was like the wind sang for him, pushing him faster as he bolted down the field. Almost as soon as he made his goal, the one that would get them a point ahead though, a whistle blew and a yellow-checkered flag was waving.

“Shit,” she murmured, closely eyeing the playback. It was a fair call, he had been offside. When the camera showed Rowan again though, he was pointed at the goal, mouth wrapping around words that looked a lot like fucking bullshit. The words weren’t more than a whisper as she said, “Rowan, you stupid idiot.”

Connall chuckled, despite the dire situation at hand. She knew he was only laughing at her, not his friend’s situation. Still, she wadded up a napkin and threw it at his head. It nailed him in the temple.

“It’s not funny,” she hissed, nibbling on the end of her straw, a sick feeling roiling in her gut.

The referee pulled a yellow card brandishing it in front of his face. A spark of anger flickered behind his eyes, mouth opening to spew something else when Fenrys grabbed him by the shoulders and made him turn away. Aelin exhaled a tight breath as Rowan shook his head on screen. Fenrys said something in Rowan’s ear and he nodded, lips thin in a stiff line.. It was enough to make him nod and hustle to his spot on the field, shaking his arms out when he came to a stop.

Beneath the bar, Aelin’s legs were bouncing. Butterflies flitted their way through her insides enough that she braced her hands against her stomach as though it would calm them. It was impossible to look away as Adarlan took their free kick from the offside, launching the ball halfway down the field and into another frustrating back and forth between the two teams.

This was always the part of the sport that Aelin hated. No, perhaps hated was too strong of a word. The build up always made her feel nauseous, waiting for one team to make one quick move to kick everyone into high gear to avoid a goal or make one. Being pregnant, it was worse. It felt as though her stomach was in the back of her throat.

Just before the end of the second half, disaster struck. Aelin saw it coming. She was pretty sure everyone watching at home or in the stands did, too. Connall swore filthily as Rowan ran for the ball and dove feet first to knock it away from Adarlan. Except in the process, his cleats clashed into the other player’s feet and they both went down in a heap on the field.

“What the fuck did you say to him?” Connall asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the screen as a ref jogged across the pitch.

“I told him to win and maybe we would talk! I didn’t tell him to–” A yellow card appeared in the ref’s hand, followed by a red one and Aelin lost all of her words. Both were for Rowan.

“I think he took that a little too do or die.” And so it seemed he had.

Distantly, she heard the announcer saying it was the first time he’d ever been red carded in his entire career. The patron’s of the bar murmured amongst themselves, many of them asking what the hell was wrong with Whitethorn tonight.

The cameras zoomed in to where he walked off the field, sweat trickling down his face. Their coach followed him to the end of the field, the words he muttered only for Rowan to hear. Though he looked ready to hit anyone that was close enough, Rowan simply nodded. Fenrys caught his arm just before he walked off, mouth moving too quickly for Aelin to decipher.

The last clear shot of him was walking into the tunnel and off the pitch, body rigid and muscles rippling while he pulled his jersey off his body.

“I… I need to go,” Aelin said to Connall, who only nodded in response. She threw a few bills on the counter as a thank you and pushed her way out of the pub, walking as fast as her feet would carry her to her rental car down the street.

~*~

Even though his team had another win under their belt by the time the game was over, it had been a fucking disaster. Rowan watched the second half on his phone from the comfort of his car after getting kicked out.

It was the first time in his eleven year career he’d ever received two yellow cards, and consequently a red card, and been ejected from a game. All that anger and frustration from the week, from his hangover, had boiled to a head and exploded on the field. Next week he would have to sit out, too.

Failing his teammates didn’t sit right with him. Lorcan was probably fuming and Rowan anticipated a less than friendly visit from him tomorrow. Coach Malakai was mad, too. The last thing he told Rowan was to get his shit together before practice on Monday. Only Fenrys, who never missed a chance to be a jokester about anything, had murmured words of encouragement before he left the field.

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he was exhausted. His entire body ached from that last dive. There would definitely be bruises on his hips and thighs tomorrow from the way Ress Taylor landed on top of him. All he wanted to do was let his muscles thaw under a shower so hot it burned. A glass of whiskey would be great, too. Not that he deserved it after his performance on the pitch.

The game was… rough.The entire day was rough. From the time he’d woken up his mood had been in the pits of hell. Drunk Rowan hadn’t been able to piece together what Aelin said just before they hung up, but sober Rowan did as soon as his alarm sounded.

Win your game tomorrow.

Not win the game, like she used to say when she thought he was the coach. She didn’t ask him to wish the boys good luck like she had in the weeks prior. The words had changed. Win your game. The game he would be playing in, that belonged to him. She had given him a personal goal and though he helped his team achieve it, he still felt like he failed. Especially since he would have to sit out next week, too, because of the red card.

It had been stupid of him to think she wouldn’t find out the truth before he had the chance to tell her. Everything had just gone to such absolute shit before he had the chance. Rowan Whitethorn would be groveling at the feet of Aelin Galathynius for the duration of his life, and then some more after he crossed into whatever afterworld awaited him.

The news of his career was just another lie he had to make right. All day it sat with him, festering like an open wound. It wasn’t that he suddenly felt bitter about his job. He didn’t. Rowan loved what he did, he loved the sport. It was his greatest passion and love in life. But Aelin deserved to hear about it from him. Not knowing how she found out only made it worse, until everything he felt was bleeding out into the astroturf beneath his feet and getting him thrown out of a game.

Upon pulling into his driveway, something white in front of his house caught his eye. His heart came to a stop as soon as his car did. Rowan didn’t even bother to pull into his garage, just parked beside the white SUV and stared at his porch. It felt like a fever dream, getting home from a hard game and seeing Aelin on his porch swing. The wind slowly moved her back and forth, but when she saw him step out of the car she stood, hands sliding into her back pockets.

“I told you to win, not get a red card before the second half was up.” The lilting tone of her voice made his knees buckle. It forced him to gather himself before approaching, slowly walking up the stairs until he stood one below her.

“My mouth keeps getting me in trouble this week, it seems,” he said back, mouth completely dry. It was an effort to make his tongue form the words with his lips. “But it got you to my house, so I suppose there are worse things that could have happened.”

“Few things are worse than a red card.”

“Not talking to you might beat out all of them,” he said smoothly, fingers sliding along each of his keys until he found the one for his front door. He held it up between two fingers and Aelin nodded, stepping to the side and gesturing toward the door.

She wore simple leggings and an oversized t-shirt, a pair of socks and slides on her feet. Though she wore no makeup and her hair was twisted half-hazardly onto the top of her head, she had never looked so beautiful. Lorcan would laugh himself hoarse if he heard the thoughts Rowan had about this woman, yet he didn’t care. Even in her most dressed down and casual state, she was breathtaking.

He led her inside, locking the door behind them. It was late enough he assumed she would be staying for a while. Few people made a nearly two hour drive to turn around and leave upon arrival. Then again, he hadn’t seen last weekend going that way, either, and it’s exactly how that night ended.

“You played…”

“Shittily,” he offered, hanging his keys on a small hook by the front door.

“Brutally,” Aelin amended, slipping off her shoes and heading to the kitchen. Rowan watched as she grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and handed one off to him before heading for the couch. “Have you eaten?”

“No. Have you?”

“Not since lunch.” Phone in hand, she curled up in the corner and pulled a blanket over her lap. “I doubt we have any notable options, but Taco Bell is open and is shockingly one of the few things not making me sick at the moment.”

Rowan watched her from where he stood in the center of the room. It didn’t feel real. None of today did, really. It could be the hangover talking, but the day felt like a horrible dream. He was scared to move, scared that if he sat on the couch with her that she would vanish into nothing and he would wake up alone in his bed.

“Are you going to just stand there all night?” Her eyes didn’t leave her phone while presumably selecting everything she wanted to eat, eyes narrowing at the screen briefly in thought. A moment later she held it out for him. Rowan stared at her, heart thundering away in his chest. “Rowan.”

“Right. Thank you,” he murmured, taking the phone and trying not to acknowledge the rush he felt when his fingertips grazed her palm. Not big on fast food most of the time, it took him a little longer to pick his dinner. “What do I owe you?”

Aelin just snorted as she submitted the order, eyes rolling slightly before placing her phone face down on the couch next to her, head tilting as she said, “Come to think of it, maybe you do. I think your twenty dollar fast food order might do me in completely. I’ll have to take out a loan.”

“I can Venmo it,” Rowan said dumbly, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.

“I don’t need your money any more than you need mine.” Once there might have been a teasing edge to her voice. Her delivery was much drier than he was used to from her. But there it was. That stupid thing he’d said before he could stop himself, the words that brought everything they were building crashing down.

“Sit,” she told him, patting the cushion next to her. Rowan was careful to leave plenty of space between them. There were definitely lines and boundaries now. The risk of getting ensnared in one was too great and he had a lot of apologies to make. With his arms elbows braced on his knees and hands clasped loosely between them, he stared at the floor.

“You’re actually getting a pretty sweet deal.” Aelin sighed, shifting so she was facing him full on. His green eyes didn’t leave the rug. “According to google my net worth is two-and-a-half times what yours is. Isn’t that crazy?”

“I didn’t know,” he finally said. As much as he wanted to look at her, he couldn’t. He was a fucking coward. Guilt was a disgusting, oily thing crawling beneath his skin. It threatened to consume him whole even worse now that he was talking to her than it had the rest of the week.

Aelin sighed again, finally pulling his attention to her face. She laid her head back against the sofa and a few tendrils of hair fell down to frame her face. Rowan’s fingers curled into fists to fight the urge to sweep them behind her ear. She must have sensed it because she did it herself. The blue of her fingernails was the same blue as his jersey. Part of him wondered if it had been on purpose.

“I think tonight we can call a truce.” Aelin seemed to notice his gaze on her fingers because she folded her arms over her chest, curling her hands so her blue nails were hidden. “We’ll eat, sleep, and then tomorrow… Tomorrow we’ll talk.”

“Okay,” he agreed. The word was falling off his tongue as soon as she finished speaking. Her cheeks seemed to twitch with amusement, and if he had reacted differently last week she would probably be smiling.

“I am curious, though. Did you make an instagram for the sole purpose of stalking me?”

Rowan cringed. His eyes squeezed shut, lips rolling between his teeth as he looked away. Beside him it sounded like Aelin laughing, though it was little more than puffs of air coming out of her nose. It would have been easy to go on the defensive, to add one more lie to their crumpled house of cards. Instead, he went with the truth.

“I missed you. I just wanted to see your face.” He looked back over at her then, but it was she who looked away now. Her eyes were glassy, the dim lighting making the unshed tears in her eyes sparkle. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s these fucking hormones.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand when he started to reach for her. It stung more than he would ever let on, but he retreated and dropped his hand into his lap while she used the collar of her shirt to dry her eyes.

It was silent after that, the two of them alternating from staring at nothing to sneaking glances at the other. Rowan only knew because he caught her staring at him more than once when he thought he could take a second to drink her in. It was only when the doorbell finally rang and he stood that she said his name, stopping him when he was halfway to the front door. Turning to look at her, eyebrows raised in question, he watched her lick her lips.

“I missed you, too.” It was barely a whisper, spoken so softly he might have dreamed it if he was any more tired.

Still, it was enough to get him through the rest of their silent night. Enough that it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would when he insisted she sleep in his bed without him. Enough to chase him with sweet dreams when he finally slipped into the guest room down the hall and tumbled into a deep sleep.

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @mariamuses

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belethlegwen · 7 months ago

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General li'l update

So, things have done anything but slow down for me in the real world. To keep it as vague as possible, there's a chance I'll be losing my job within the next month or so, though we're all currently working on possible solutions to this. Hoping for the best.

I've already done my panicking and preemptive grieving. 18 years in a single career is a hell of a run for someone my age, and if it has to come to an end then I've made at least some peace with that idea.

Still though, working every day to find solutions. To fix things. To keep surviving. It's exhausting, I will not lie. We're doing what we can over here.

There's so, so much good to look forward to this year. These are just bumpy patches of road. And some of the bumpiest roads I've driven on have taken me to the best places I've ever been. I'll be alright. I know I'll be alright. I'll be more than alright, by the time this is all said and done.

Been doing more reading of late, which I've been loving. You all are putting out such amazing work and I love bouncing in to read even if it takes me 3 attempts and a couple of hours to get through a posted chapter. Lovely escapes, all around.

My sister turned me onto a game ("game" kind of seems like an odd word for it but either way) on steam called Spirit City: Lofi Sessions. You customize a character, you have a little room, it plays lofi music at you and you can poke at a few playlists, build soundscapes around it (rain noises, thunder, wind, birds chirping, crackling fire etc etc) while your character mills about in spots doing things as just a beautiful little vibe-generator. You can collect spirit pals to vibe with you. It's just really cozy and nice, I love it. Highly recommend.

It has an optioning for in-app journaling, and I've been meaning to get back into journaling regularly just for the sake of my memory and everything else. That's been a huge boon over the last 2-3 days. It's got a productivity timer, to-do list, daily task/habits tracker.

Anyway, I've been making progress on writing but it's slow, staggered. Hit a bit of a wall last night with some of The Stranding where I wrote 8.5 pages of a scene and then just felt... unhappy with it. I had clearly lost the thread of why I started writing it, and needed to walk away to see if a fresher mind could find a place to rewind to and pivot so I can salvage it, or if I'm just gonna carve the whole thing out and set it in the Cut Scenes doc. The other 20 pages I've got waiting? Fine. Good, even. Proud of those. This one, I'm proud of what I'm writing but again... just feels more like floating aimlessly and bouncing. It was clear I wrote it while heavily distracted or with gaps between focus, so it jumps.

I'll see what I can salvage. Can't promise an update and am avoiding making it feel like I'm 'back on schedule' just to find something I can reduce pressure from in my life for the time being. But: I love you all. The Kudos, the views, the comments, the everything. It means a lot. You're all great.

If I do any generic vent/vibe writing, not necessarily attached to anything, I'll consider sharing it here for y'all. You guys deserve a bit of fun and sunshine <3

Have a great time everyone, love y'all to bits <3

~ Belle

#g/t author #gtauthor #author thoughts #just general rambling #irl update #life update #life is a mess and boy am I too tired to clean #Sometimes you just keep chuggin' until someone tells you aren't actually a train y'know what I mean?#If you do know what I mean please let me know #My brain is scrambled eggs because of all of this #I would like things to slow down plz #A friend of mine at the farmer's market this morning asked me 'what's new?' and I just moaned 'too much'.#I would like Less New #For a little while #Until the next big New Thing #The good one #the one where I get to see my fiancee and take them home with me forever #That's the good shit #Looking forward to that

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stars-n-spice · 7 months ago

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Thoughts on s3 ep 13!

fucking hell ya'll,, we're almost at the end of this and I simply can't believe it and don't want to believe it simply because I don't want it to end and I don't see how the fuck they're going to tie up all the loose ends in just the next two episodes.

This time around I recorded my reactions to it and it was a lot of yelling and making really weird noises,, but uh, y'know the drill!

Incoherent screaming (this time for real) and spoilers under the cut!

Click here for the audio recording of my initial reaction

WAAAAAH I DON'T EVER WANT TO SEE OMEGA IN PRISON UNIFORMS AGAIN!!!

i forgot they had that baby up in there,, omg

FUCKIN' WAAGHHh why didn't omega try to like access that hatch thing at night?? wouldn't that have been less risky??

this episode stressed me the fuck out,, I have a headache rn holy fuck

EMERIE I'M ON MY HANDS AND KNEES PLEASE DO SOMETHING

wait how the fuck are they going to get that baby through the chute thingy??

Eva is so precious :( I love her so much

Omega has been in there for like probably a day or something and is already making plans to escape, I love her so much

"That's okay, I like a challenge" AAAAA WRECKER WOULD BE SO PROUD!!

Question: why the fuck do they keep taking samples if they know her blood is compatible??

PHEE COME BACK D:

I better see more of Phee somewhere, anywhere, please, I love her so much your honor

ALSDKF;A I FUCKING FORGOT ABOUT RAMPART LMAOOO

Echo!!!! FUCKING HELL!!!! ECHO <3!!!!!

I missed Echo so much,, this episode really just showed that they couldn't have him in it because he would've gotten things done like five episodes ago because he's just that good

Them keeping Rampart is so funny to me idk

He was such a throw away character to me in the other seasons so I this is so hilarious to me, what a silly, pathetic man I need to see him get chewed up by a space animal or something idk

after all this time it was strange to see Crosshair in the background of things but he was still shoving Rampart around and I loved it

I SWEAR TO GO IF I SEE. Y'ALL THIRSTING FOR RAMPART!!! THAT MAN BOMBED KAMINO Y'ALL BEST REMEMBER WHO THE REAL ENEMY IS!!!

Rampart is basically Walmart Kallus

I swear to god, Hunter is getting shorter

Also looks like Crosshair is filling out :( He's finally getting to eat now :((

THEIR ARMOR ALL BLACKENED OUT??? WHAT A LOOK!!

Crosshair's helmet ESPECIALLY, it looks super cool

RAHHHHHH THAT SUPER LONG SHOT OF HUNTER LOOKING AT HIS BLACKENED OUT HELMET AGGUUGGHHHHH

Felt like I was watching an episode of Rebels due to how they were infiltrating the place

How the FUCK did nobody like,, notice?? insane. imperials are so fucking stupid I love that so much.

"Oh I don't think so" FUCKING AAAAA WOW THAT WAS HOT ECHO I LOVE YOU

WHEN WRECKER WAS JUST CHILLING ON HIS PHONE???? STOP. I'M ALREADY IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN!!!! FUCKING RAAGHHHHH

"Where is your captain?" - "Uh, captaining?" WRECKER MI VIDA!!!!

I've said it 100 times and I'll keep fucking saying it,, everything Wrecker does in this season is pure just,, everything he does is amazing, I love him so much, even in the background, him simply breathing?? Iconic. He better stay breathing.

WHEN HE WAS WEARING THE HAT OF THE GUY HE KNOCKED OUT?!?!? MARRY ME.

I know Rampart is stressed out of his mind LMAO bro is getting out of this with gray hair

"It's the only chance we have of finding Omega and freeing those clone prisoners" WHHHATTTTT HUNTER FINALLY THINKING ABOUT SOMETHING OTHER THAN OMEGA??? NO FUCKING WAY!!!

THE WAY CROSSHAIR WENT "he can't go alone" AFTER ECHO VOLUNTEERED TO SNEAK ABOARD THE SCIENCE VESSEL AAAAHHH i'm going to be sick,,

Crosshair and Echo dynamic my beloved

ECHO SLAY

OH MY BELOVED ARC TROOPER!!!!!!

last stretch of the episode had me so fucking stressed

i'm not ready for the next ones

"Negative" and all the Hunter girlies fell to their fucking knees

that was HOT

and stressful as FUCK

losing my mind

Music was insane, omg loved it

WAAAAAAAAAH I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S ALMOST THE END

AND FUCKING NOT A SIGN OF TECH???? WHAT THE FUCK

THAT'S NOT FAIR THAT THIS SHOW GETS ONLY 3 SEASONS AND FOR MOST OF IT CROSSHAIR, ECHO, AND TECH ARE BARELY IN IT!!! LIKE WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THAT TECH IS ABSENT THE WHOLE FUCKING THIRD SEASON ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?????

makes me fucking sick

they need to give us a whole ass season of all of them together being happy on Pabu I swear to god

this episode made me fucking sick ugh

everything sucks man oh my god

#cannot believe this is the third to last episode #i refuse to believe it #tbb #tbb s3 #tbb s3 spoilers #tbb spoilers #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb omega #emerie karr #edmon rampart #max's musings

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lunarbuck · 2 years ago

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Dance With The Devil (1)

Pairing: mafia!Loki x f!reader (any race)

WC: 4.4k

Summary: Your world turns upside down, but this is only the beginning.

Warnings: kidnapping, fear, swearing, violence

A/N: Yay first chapter!! I can't wait for y'all to read it :) please let me know what you think <3 Some dialogue is taken from the movie. beta'd by the amazing @purpleshallot :))) happy birthday my dear!!!

series masterlist | main masterlist | script | fic playlist

chapter 2

You have always preferred fairytales to real life. True love’s first kiss, fate, all of it. Not to be cliché, but it’s been your escape. From a young age, you found yourself wrapped up in worlds full of magic. Of happily ever afters and fairy godmothers.

As an adult, you still retreat into those stories for comfort. On difficult days, you lose yourself to mystical places, wishing you could be there, living those lives. You find it cruel, really, to open the door to other worlds like that and not let the dreamers in.

Today, the fall air is crisp and fresh as you board the bus after class. Leaves the color of fire fall from the trees and onto the street, crunching under people’s feet as they walk past. You lean your head against the window and pull out one of your favorite books. You always find yourself returning to it, no matter what happens in your life. You’ve read it so many times you have it memorized by now. The story takes you far away from New York to a place with deadly sword fights, disguised princes, and magic.

As you turn the page, your heart tugs in your chest, finding yourself at your favorite part of the book. The unassuming and quiet princess meets the prince for the first time. He falls for her instantly, but she doesn’t know who he is, as he’s disguised as a commoner.

It’s easy to get wrapped up in the story, but when your phone buzzes in your pocket, you know you need to check it. You scroll through a few work emails, planning responses in your head when you realize what time it is.

You continue looking at the screen, expecting to see a text from your father that he got home from physical therapy safely. He should’ve been back at least 15 minutes ago.

But there’s no text, no phone call, nothing. Your heartbeat speeds up, you can hear blood rushing in your ears. You try to calm your nerves, telling yourself that maybe his phone died, and he forgot. Your father has always been a little bad with tech. There’s probably nothing wrong.

You repeat the words to yourself the entire commute home, unable to focus on the story that had captivated you just a few moments ago. You keep whispering them over and over as you walk up the cracked steps to your house. You even say them as you search the place for your father.

Your mind goes silent when you find the house completely empty and your father’s cell phone on the ground, the screen shattered.

Shit.

Your head spins as you try to figure out what to do. This isn’t like your father. He’s never disappeared before. He would never go somewhere without leaving at least a note on the fridge or the counter.

After a few deep breaths, you pull out your phone and call 911.

“911, what is your emergency?” You barely hear the words leave your mouth as you rattle off your name, address, and the fact that your father is suddenly missing. You tell the dispatcher when the last time you had seen your father was and that you found his phone cracked on the ground.

The dispatcher stays on the line with you, but you don’t pay attention to what she says, instead staring at your father’s spot at the dinner table, a newspaper folded just the way he likes beside a cup of coffee, long gone cold. He always insists on having one in the morning, even though he hates the taste.

A few minutes later, a police cruiser pulls up to your house, lights on but no siren. You scramble out of the house and through the front door and find Griffin, your friend from Undergrad, leaning against the car casually.

He’s dressed in his police uniform, pressed and without wrinkles, but as you get closer, you can see the bags under his eyes. Knowing him, he probably was out late last night drinking. He’s always been that type. Even since graduation and getting a job, nothing’s changed.

Griffin has always been around, even when you didn’t want him to be. Him and his deep brown eyes that are always watching over you with a protectiveness that never seems to fade.

“Hey, Griff,” you say quickly, eyes shooting around the block for any sign of your father. Everything looks normal as if your world hadn’t been turned upside down.

Griffin scrutinizes you; the heat in his gaze is evident to you, and you try to shrink away from it. You know he’s always had a thing for you, but you pretend not to notice just like you always do. You’re too busy, too preoccupied with literally everything, to get into a relationship with him or anyone else for that matter.

“So your dad didn’t come home?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest as if this were a regular conversation between the two of you.

“It’s more than that,” you snap, noticing they only sent one officer. Why wasn’t he with his partner? Why did he come alone? “Where’s your partner? Is he out looking for Papa?” The childhood name for your father slips so easily from your lips that you wouldn’t have noticed it had Griffin not made a face.

“No, it’s just me on this right now. I wanted to check it out before we declared him missing.” Anger bubbles in your chest, but you shove it down. Being angry won’t help right now. You need to focus. That’s the only thing that will help your father.

“Okay, where should we start?”

Griffin explains how a missing person case works, and you nod along with him, trying to make sense of it all. Your father has no enemies that you know of, no one that would wish harm upon him.

As you go through this with Griffin, your eyes wander away from him and over to the houses around you. It’s possible someone saw something; maybe they just didn’t know what they were seeing.

You cock your head, noticing your neighbor across the street has a camera above their doorbell. You start walking to the house, not bothering to explain your action to Griffin. He follows, though, seeming to understand.

To your surprise, your neighbor is more than willing to share the footage with you and the police. She brings out her laptop and rewinds the video until Griffin tells her to stop. Your hands shake as she plays it.

In the grainy video, you see a black van pull up outside your house. Four men dressed in black jump out and walk straight into your home. You know for a fact you’d locked it that morning. How did they get in?

It’s surreal. It’s like a movie. A terrible, shitty movie about men breaking into your house and kidnapping your father. The trees blow in the wind, a bird lands on the pavement, and everyone keeps moving like nothing is happening in the house.

A few moments later, the men emerge from the house, dragging your father between them. He’s fighting back as best he can, but he can’t do much in his weakened condition.

You want to scream, you want to throw up, you want to rewind time and make it so none of this ever happened.

The video has no sound, but you can only imagine his calls for help. How they went unanswered.

Griffin thanks your neighbor after getting a copy of the footage and walks you back to his cruiser. Your legs feel like jelly, unable to support the weight of everything any longer.

“Grab whatever you need for the next few hours and come with me,” he instructs, voice tight. “We’re gonna find your dad.”

When you arrive with Griffin at the police station, you’re surprised by the lack of urgency the other officers give to your father’s disappearance. Is this not important to them?

Griffin lets you sit at his desk while he shows a few people the video, trying to see what people know. The police station feels hospital-like. People rush around, calling out odd codes and names while you sit in the middle of the chaos. Everything smells like the floor cleaner they use. It burns your nose.

For a while, you scroll through your phone aimlessly, not really sure what you’re looking for before putting it away and reading your book instead.

You finally reach chapter 3. The princess has just discovered the true identity of the prince. The words make your heart flutter despite the noise and disorder surrounding you. You manage to lose yourself in the pages, the world around you fading away.

The prince holds the princess close, cupping her cheek in his hand. They stare lovingly into each other’s eyes, not yet knowing that they were meant to be. The universe had granted them the greatest gift of all, true love. You know what happens next, but that doesn’t stop your brain from coming up with all the ways they might be challenged in the future.

A hand clasps your shoulder, pulling you from the fairytale world and crashing you into reality. Griffin is at your side, a grim look on his face.

“What?” you ask quietly, not sure you want to hear what he’s found.

“Come with me.” He grabs your arm, tugging you up from the chair. Your book tumbles to the ground, but he doesn’t give you a chance to retrieve it. He guides you to an interrogation room and shuts the door behind him.

“What is going on?” you ask, ripping your arm from his grasp.

“I got an image of the license plate from the car your dad got into.” You want to interrupt and correct Griffin. Your father didn’t “get into” the car, he was kidnapped and shoved, but you keep your mouth shut. “I tracked it to a few fake identities, but I finally found something solid. All these fake guys work for the same very real mafia family. The Laufeyson family has a pretty big presence around here, and I think they’re the ones who have your dad.”

The mafia? No way. You shake your head, and Griffin gives you a pitying look. You hate it.

“Papa would never get involved with the mafia. He has no reason to. Even when he stopped working, we had enough money for treatments, his inventions always made enough…” your voice trails off when you think of the past few months. How stressed your father had seemed, the odd phone calls, you’d thought nothing of them at the time. But now…

“Look, your dad was sick and desperate. He probably thought he had no other option.” You hate how he talks about your father in the past tense as if he’s already gone.

“Where is he?” you ask before you can spiral into what-ifs and hypotheticals.

“I’ve got an address. There’s no promising it’s where he is, though.” You nod, and Griffin hands you a scrap of paper, an address scrawled messily on it. “We’ll go tomorrow morning. Right now, you need to lie low in case they’re looking for you.” You roll your eyes and scoff. Does he really expect you to wait until tomorrow?

He’s an idiot if he thinks that.

Griffin drives you back to your house and gives you an awkwardly long hug before getting back in his car and leaving. For a guy that claims to care about you so much, he has a funny way of showing it.

You quickly gather some belongings, unsure how long you’ll be gone, and put the address Griff gave you into your phone. It’s far, too far for you to commute or bike. You don’t have a car, so you decide to call an Uber despite the cost. It’ll be worth it to find your father.

The car arrives after 10 minutes, but honestly, it felt like hours. Every moment that passes, every second that goes by, feels like an eternity being stuck in the unknown. Not knowing what he’s going through.

Your driver is friendly enough, though as he gets closer to the address, he gets more and more cagey.

Your phone buzzes, and you spare a glance down at it, seeing that Griffin has texted you a few times.

Lmk if you need anything

You wanna get dinner? I got off early.

Hello? Whyre you ignoring me?

You groan inwardly at the messages. Griffin has never been the romantic type, and clearly, nothing has changed since the last time he asked you out. You don’t bother responding, tucking your phone in your pocket as you stare out the window.

The car comes to a stop before arriving at your desired destination. Your driver explains that he can’t go further than this, so you climb out of the car and thank him anyway, tipping even though he didn’t take you where you wanted.

In the distance, you see a giant gated mansion on top of a hill. Without even looking at your phone, you know that’s where you need to go. The place looks straight out of a movie; of course, it’s where the bad guys live.

You make the trip on foot, watching out for anyone suspicious. The gate around the house is tall, but you scale it somewhat quickly, surprising yourself with your newfound upper-body strength.

The sun has set by the time you’re crossing the well-kept lawn, chilling you to your core. You carefully creep around the house’s perimeter, looking for a way in. You find a window cracked open and are stunned at your luck.

The window slides open easily, and you slip through the opening, finding yourself in a large sitting room. The plush carpet dampens your footsteps, making you nearly silent as you creep through the room.

As you push open the door to the hallway, you lock eyes with a man down the corridor. You freeze, unable to move away even as you will your feet to move. The man doesn’t call for help, though. Instead, he tilts his head as if to get a better look at you.

He steps toward you, then furrows his brow, thinking better of it. You wait for his next move with bated breath.

“Your father,” he whispers, eyes darting around, probably watching for other people. “Go upstairs.” With that, he turns on his heel and walks in the opposite direction, seemingly content with pretending he never saw you.

How did he know you’re here for your father? They must not get many visitors that arrive on good terms; maybe this is a common occurrence?

You wait an agonizing few minutes until you’re sure the coast is clear before you dart to the staircase he’d gestured to.

The mansion is more extensive than it appeared from the outside, and you only realize the size as you climb the sweeping stairs to an upper level of the house. Corridors filled with doors leading to different rooms catch your attention, but you know that you must look for any sign of your father and avoid getting lost in the maze of the home.

A chill runs through you as you pass through the house. Even though you’ve seen signs of life here, it feels like a museum. It doesn’t feel like a home. No one really lives here; they just pass through. Existing and moving on.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you hear him. Your father coughs after every other word, barely getting the sounds out. He sounds so weak.

“Please, someone,” he groans quietly before breaking into another fit of coughs. You practically run down the hall until you reach a room at the very end, the door cracked slightly open. Not caring if anyone sees you, you push the door open to reveal your father.

Bile rises in your throat at the sight of him.

He’s tied tightly to a pole in the center of the room, hands cuffed behind his back around the bar, and feet bound at his ankles. From what you’ve seen, the rest of the house has hardwood or carpet. This room has concrete floors.

This room was built for pain, for bloodshed.

Even in the darkness of the room, you can see bruises bloom around his eyes and on his cheeks. Blood splatters on the ground. You can only imagine the pain he’d been through before your arrival.

Your father must not have heard or seen you come in because he continues to whisper his pleas.

“Papa,” you say gently as you cross the room and crouch in front of him. You place your hands on both sides of his face; he is so cold against your skin. “Papa, I’m here.”

Your father’s eyes open as far as they can with the swelling, but he finally sees you. “Oh, my, how did you find me?” he croaks. You shake your head, reaching around to see how his hands are cuffed. You hold one of his hands in yours and wince at the temperature.

“Your hands are like ice,” you whisper, returning your attention to his face. “We have to get you out of here.” Your father shakes his head, even though the action appears to pain him.

“Please, I want you to leave this place,” he begs, desperation lacing his voice.

You ignore his words, focusing on trying to undo the binds on his feet. “Who did this to you?”

“There is no time to explain,” he urges, “you have to go. Now!” You sit back on your heels and stare at your father in disbelief.

“I won’t leave you!” Your tone is harsh, but you don’t understand why he wants you to leave him behind.

Suddenly, someone grabs your shoulder, pulling you away from your father with incredible strength. You scramble out of their grasp and back to your father, unable to catch a glimpse of the person that grabbed you before they slip into the shadows.

“What are you doing here?” the person, a man, asks harshly, spitting the words at you.

“Run,” your father groans fearfully. You search your father’s face for something, anything, to help you through this.

You spin around, pressing your back against your father in an attempt to protect him from the new man.

“Who are you?” you ask the man cloaked in shadow.

“Who are you?” the man asks in response, his words sharp and deadly.

“I’ve come for my father. Please let him out; can’t you see he’s sick?” you reply, voice even and calm, not showing how terrified you are.

“Your father is a thief. He owes me.”

You shake your head; he must be lying. “But he could die. Please, I’ll do anything!” Desperation creeps into your voice, but you hold firm. You want to cry, you want to scream, but you don’t. You won’t, not until your father is safe.

“There’s nothing you can do. He’s my prisoner.” The words are swift, his tongue like a whip.

“There must be some way I can–” You turn back to face your father, searching his face for the answers. “Take me instead!” It takes everything in you to pull your eyes away from your father and face the shadowed man.

“You? You would take his place?” He sounds unsure, troubled by what you’ve proposed. As if you’ve caught him off guard.

Your father struggles against the binds, trying to grab onto you. “No! You don’t know what you’re doing!” Even though it pains you, you don’t look back.

“If I did, would you let him go?” You can’t see his face, but you can tell the man is mulling over his choices. He holds your life in his fingers.

“Yes, but you must promise to stay here forever.” Your heart sinks, but you know that it is for the best that you take your father’s place. He has access to the money you’ve been making, to his treatment services, everything. It would be easier with you there, but you know he’ll be able to care for himself until he finds a caretaker.

As anger burns inside your chest, you stare at the shadowed man in front of you. You want to see the man forcing you and your father into this fate. You want to look him in the eye as he sentences you to death at his hand.

“Come into the light,” you whisper, barely able to form the words. The man doesn’t move for a moment, but after a breath, he steps forward and into the light cast from the window.

Your eyes widen as you take him in. He’s tall, towering over you like a mountain. His black hair is slicked back in the front, though a piece has fallen out of place and covers one of his eyes. Dressed in an all-black suit, the man looks as though he is made of the shadows that had just been concealing him. Bright eyes stare down at you as if they can see right through you.

“No,” your father says, sputtering and coughing. “No, I won’t let you do this!”

It’s as if you’re in a trance. You can’t break your eyes away from the man in front of you. “You have my word.” The promise slips from your lips as if not yours.

The man cocks his head, grinning slyly. “It is done.”

All it takes is a quick knock on the door behind him, and the man has summoned two more people to the room.

They rush in, moving you aside and grabbing your father. You try to catch him, to hug him, to just let him know that everything will be okay, but the raven-haired man grabs your arms and pulls you away, holding you against his chest. One arm brackets around your front while the other covers your mouth, muffling your yelling.

You struggle against him, willing him to just let you say goodbye, but your efforts are futile.

It doesn’t take long for the two men to drag your father away. You can’t help but feel like you’ll never see him again. The feeling lodges itself deep in your gut, making you feel a heaviness like you’ve never experienced before.

When it is just you and the raven-haired man left in the room, he releases you. You crumple to the floor, finally allowing your tears to fall freely. The ground is cold and hard beneath you as you wet it with your tears.

The raven-haired man says nothing for a long time, letting the sound of your sobs echo between the walls.

When your throat is dry, and you have no tears left in your body, he moves to stand in front of you instead of behind you.

“Come,” he says curtly as if speaking to a dog.

You shake your head, holding it in your hands. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye. I’ll never see him again.” Finally, you look up at the man. Fury rips through your veins. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

If the man feels bad or feels any remorse, he doesn’t reveal it. “I’ll show you to your room.”

His words take you by surprise. You hadn’t thought this far ahead. Is he going to give you a room? It wouldn’t have shocked you if he’d just told you to sleep in this torture room. “My room? But I thought–”

“You want to stay here? In this… cell?” he asks, tilting his head. The faint light from the window makes his eyes shine. You search his face for any trace of emotion but find nothing. His blue eyes stay trained on you, his lips pressed into a line.

“No,” you reply, annoyance clear from your tone. That earns you the smallest of smirks. His right eye ticks. He must not like being on the receiving end of an attitude. Well, he better get used to it.

“Then follow me.” The raven-haired man doesn’t help you stand. He doesn’t provide you any support as you wobble on weak legs. He just stands by the door, waiting for you to catch up.

You walk a few steps behind the man, following him like a shadow as he guides you through the corridors. He points to different doors, other paths through the home, but you don’t really hear him.

It’s like you’re underwater; everything is muted and warped. Your thoughts spin through your head, and you’re barely able to process them as they fly past. It all happened so quickly, you’d acted without thinking through all the possible outcomes, and now you’re stuck here alone forever.

The man comes to a stop in front of a pair of ornate wooden doors. He stares down at the handles, but you stare at him. He’s yet to tell you anything about him; he is a mystery to you.

“You are to never step foot in the west wing,” he says through gritted teeth, shifting his eyes toward you. “Do I make myself clear?”

You take a shaky breath and look at the carvings on the door. They seem to tell a story, but before you get a chance to look for the start, you find yourself speaking. “What’s in there?”

“It’s forbidden.” You flinch back from his harsh tone, dropping your eyes to the floor.

The man turns away from the door and guides you down a new hallway. You notice more art hung on the walls in this area, lots of classics. Your heart tugs when you see some familiar paintings; it’s barely a comfort, but it’s something.

“If there is anything you need,” he says, pushing open the door to a bedroom, “my people will attend to you.” The room is simple, with only a bed, a dresser, and a vanity, but it looks clean from what you can tell.

He doesn’t wait for you to get settled, doesn’t even tell you where the kitchen or anything else is. The second you step into the room, he shuts the door with a thud.

You barely make it to the bed before your legs give out. You throw yourself onto the blankets and pillows, a sobbing heap as you come apart.

You don’t care how loud you’re being. You don’t care that the man might be standing outside listening. Your sobs rip through you, releasing emotions you haven’t felt in ages. This is bigger than just your father, bigger than being trapped in the home of a man you’ve never met before.

It’s only the beginning.

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