#my brain. and my situation. I just gotta wait for the waters of my mind to calm back down | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coffeeshades · 2 years ago

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credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART III

—old habits die hard

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

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 13.5k

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

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

masterlist with next parts!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•••

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

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

Simple as that.

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

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

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

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

You: Bummer. Sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

"I don't know anymore."

Your attention snapped back to the present.

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

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

Manhattan Beach Studios, Los Angeles.

October 2018.

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

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

Until his eyes landed on you.

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

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

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

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

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

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•••

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

"You cut your hair," he blurted.

"Yes."

"It looks very pretty; I like it."

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, who would've thought?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"José Pedro!" you exclaim, clearly irritated.

"Sorry, old habits die hard."

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

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

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

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

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

That voice.

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

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

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

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

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

"See? It works perfectly."

•••

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, tin can man!"

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

“Give up yet, old man?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How does it look?" he asks teasingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

New York City

December 15, 2018

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, he hasn’t changed his mind.

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

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

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

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

Santiago, Chile

December 20, 2018

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

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

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

•••

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

You: I'm here, tonto.

Pedrito: I'll be right outside, tonta.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love it,” you tell him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ha. You’ll have to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet dreams.”

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

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

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

“Here, try this one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, I would've loved to see that.”

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

“Please do.”

•••

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

“Want me to open another bottle, princesa?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what?” Pedro interrupts.

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

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

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

“Oh yes, very romantic stuff.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps a glass of water will help.

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

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

He's still up, you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?” you repeat, dumbfounded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I have some rules, too."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can cum now.”

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

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

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

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

“Don't get cocky.”

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

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

“Are you sure?” he whispers softly.

“Yes.”

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

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“More, please, I need more."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

You chuckle, “Leaving.”

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

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

“No,” he interjects. “Stay.”

“Pedro, we said—"

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

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

“Okay, I'll stay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have other ways,” you quickly reply.

Oh, how you love to play with fire.

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

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

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

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

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

“Espero que te guste.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Merry Christmas, mi amor."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F-faster, please,”

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

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

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

“Can I wash your hair?”

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I will come with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pedro.”

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

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

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

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

Maybe in the future, maybe in another lifetime.

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

#love is complicated fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fic #my writing

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keitheaverage · 9 months ago

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sorry, you guys mind if I vent a little?

tbh in just the last year or so both world and life events have scrambled my brain so thoroughly I feel a bit like I'm truly losing it. Most good days I've had since the year started have been upended by one thing or another. My favorite neighborhood porch cat was taken by our neighbors when they moved. Something's wrong with our pipes and now I have to take a shower at my neighbor's house because water isn't coming out of any of our faucets and nothing can be done about it until the weekend at least. There's a literal gnocide going on continents away but the actual TV news sources we rely on are being so passive and dismissive about it that I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone. My grandpa passed away last summer and things just haven't felt quite right since. Among other things that I don't have much control or say in.

I feel simultaneously overwhelmed and under-stimulated. I'm so behind on my artwork, something that gives me both personal joy and connection with others, but my mind's been on like three other things during this span of time and I can hardly focus on the things I actually want to do, let alone come up with something I'm proud of. I can't believe just a few years ago I was drawing and putting up new artwork like every day for almost a year. God I wish that were me now. I've slowed down to a snail's pace and I'm so frustrated by it.

Some days it feels like I'm just the comic relief character in one of God's sitcoms and he keeps putting me in situations that would maybe be funny if they were happening to someone else. Like I'm not trying to be all doom and gloom about it, for the most part things are, in fact, okay, or at least fixable, and I have to remember that before I slip into some high school-era meltdown. But man. It sure would be nice to just have like. One day where I feel accomplished and just, like. Okay. Devoid of dread. Unbothered, unencumbered. Nobody or thing comes up behind me when I'm actually feeling good and ruins it with bad news. Maybe I just need a new hobby. Or just need to stop staying up past midnight.

I'll be okay. I've just had a lot of little things going on and I feel a bit weighed down by it all. I gotta just gotta wait it out with hope that there is an end to it. That good and better days are coming. Just hope that time is sooner than later, y'know?

#personal. please do not 🔄#random thoughts with kei the average #desperately manifesting my We Are So Back era #i wish Things a very Please Stop Happening For Just a Little While

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khaleesiofalicante · 1 year ago

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god, I've been in and out of this fandom for a while but I got the email and was being way too expressive reading Shades Of Gray and thought oh I haven't liveblogged anything in a bit so here we are!

girl your one shots are genuinely a blessing for all of us! I have read till the "wear your favourite colour" day part so we gotta recap first

The last time I laughed so much reading a fic was your malec fake dating au. It is getting harder to see the screen because of how much I am laughing. Not Clary with the sage 😭😭. I gotta agree with Alec here though. Working at Edom sounds like a headache, literally a headache. But also fun? Idk I think this place would make me want to kill myself but also have the best time of my life. Yes, I make so much sense! What is this voice app thing though...sounds creepy...

Not Alec saying he wants to eat Magnus' voice WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT but also yes same me too.

SLAMMED MY LAPTOP'S LID DOWN AT THE "baby" SIR WE JUST STARTED WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN-

what...what concerning shit have you said...?

ALEC IS SO DONE WITH ALL HIS COLLEAGUES I LOVE HIS ENERGY

HJFHDJKIF MAGNUS TELLING ALEC ABOUT THE WORK EVENT THEY ARE ABOUT TO MEET STOP I'M LOSING IT. Or maybe not meet idk but this work event is definitely the Christmas party because y'know "Edom" and the Asmodeus tag

dear god this entire fic is just gonna be Alec thirsting, isn't it? I love it. Oh, I read a fic like that for another fandom recently!! painting on the other person's back. You should definitely do it

It makes him want to punch Magnus’ dad in the face.

Me too dude...me too

I think I'm gonna put on music. Okay found a playlist!

Seriously. What’s with this need to eat and drink all things related to Magnus? Is Alec not eating well? Should he just drink more water?

DUDE I CAN'T-

Okay their voice messages to each other are now the highlight of my night this is so cute actually

ayyy Halloween time!

my god these people really go all out-

Noo Magnus didn't message him :( I wonder if everything's okay on that end

Clary would look nice as Scarlet Witch

I'll take the Batman costume!

Why can’t they just accept him for the cunt he is, huh?

Okay, this made me snort. I like his energy

THE WHOLE PARTY AND JACE SITUATION JUST MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD HE'S SUCH A MESS

I'm the same with a cute girl so understandable

wait no come back I wanna see the slutty satan

Okay Magnus do I need to kill your father? Because I will if you want me to

Alec screams into a pillow.

Mood.

THE MESSAGE HE JUST SENT??? ALEC??? I have never seen a more chaotic gay

“Hello, Alexander. If you don’t stop being cute, I swear I’m going to fall in love with you.” Alec listens to it only 87 times.

OH OKAY THEN I LIKE WHERE THIS IS GOING

GREAT JACE IS JUST AS CHAOTIC ABOUT THE PERSON HE LIKES. Izzy has all the brain cells in the fic and she does not share

I am listening to a character playlist so I am absolutely losing my shit while You're On Your Own Kid plays in the background 😭😭

so...lesson learned...don't drink water while reading this fic because now my comforter is wet...

LMAO CLARY IS GONNA JOIN THEM FOR BRUNCH THIS KEEPS ON GETTING BETTER

Alec swallows. “I like talking to you, Magnus.” “Alexander,” Magnus says when he replies not a minute later. “I like talking to you too.”

JUST GET MARRIED

"summoning spirits" BYEE-

oh this is actually really nice

okay, I understand he wouldn't want to talk about his brother with a bunch of people who are practically strangers to him but like...that was rude. I am with Maia on this one

bestie we cannot only be with the people in our phones!

god I need tea it is 2am I should most definitely not make tea

OH IT'S THAT KIND OF MESSAGE ALRIGHT THEN-

bitch how much are they paying you and how do I get the job?

no no he has a point. HOW is she so optimistic in the corporate environment??

Alec wouldn’t mind being a sugar baby and forsaking his career. He likes working. But not that much.

HDFUHIDFUI YES YOU SHOULD DO IT-

HE'S PAINTING ALEC???????????

He wonders if he should ask Magnus whether he’d like for Alec to do his taxes for him.

I- 😭😭

BLUE AND GOLD SOMEONE HOLD ME

I... they're falling in love I am gonna go cry now

HIS ALARM??? He's GONE

Where the hell did Jace get the "four arms" from???

Realistically, Clary has a point

MAGNUS IS GONNA BE COMING TO NEW YORK FOR THE HOLIDAYS LET'S GO FUCKERS

I wanna hug Magnus YOU'RE NOT TOO MUCH!

“Baby, if we meet in person, there ain’t gonna be any talking.”

True dat

honey you ARE very pretty and I am certain Magnus will feel that too

It’s not like he can kidnap Magnus and force him to like Alec. He really hopes it won’t come to that.

Uh- let's just start with a date :D

We can just like throw Asmodeus off a cliff?

WAIT SHIT MAGNUS IS GONNA BE AT THE PARTY WON'T HE?? but there is still half the fic left...

wait omg is Magnus the one coming up with these themes?? Jace said that they maybe come from the boss' children or smth

“We’re not circus monkeys!” Alec grumbles. “Honestly. Light Up the World. What the actual fuck? I’m gonna buy a tube light and shove it up this person’s ass. That’ll light up their world.”

DUDE, I CAN'T BREATHE I-

damn that is...very bright

HE'S STARING AT MAGNUS ISN'T HE????

IT IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WAS RIGHT THE IDEAS WERE, IN FACT, COMING FROM MAGNUS

my Spotify won't work this is very annoying let me listen to the taylor swift carlos reyes playlist the nice person on Twitter made!

ALEC RECOGNISES HIMMMMM

this is why there's still half the fic left, isn't it?

I am gonna start crying now wtf. we fucked up Alec...

my Spotify is still being shit okay gimme a sec

Okay I'm back

my god how are we fixing this

you know plastic surgery may not be that bad of an option...

THE BRITISH ACCENT NO ALEC NO I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING

MY STOMACH HURTS FROM LAUGHING SO MUCH OH MY GOD HE'S SUCH A MESS

NO, HE THREW MAGNUS' PHONE

I haven't laughed so hard in a while. Thank you.

ALEC FIX YOUR MESS THIS IS BREAKING MY HEART

is it too late for plastic surgery?

oh ouch.

okay the break room is fucking amazing where do I sign up-

this is making me cry while Fearless plays in the background so not ideal

Ugh, it's that bitch again. Can I punch him instead of Alec?

wait before I scroll further I need water

okay I got water

ALEC PUNCH HIM DO IT

OMG ALEC PUNCHED HIM LET'S GOOOO

and thus begins the fall of Edom! Because Magnus is right, Edom is nothing without creativity

yes bitch you are awesome!!

I am gonna stab Asmodeus to death :)

Magnus is so SO good

Y'all good for each other. Now get married

We're painting together!!

okay I like where this is going

“You are neither boring nor empty,” Magnus whispers to him. “You have so much inside you. You feel so much, Alexander. When people have a lot of feelings, this is what it looks like. Not like a rainbow but like a storm cloud.”

CRYING AND SOBBING WTF

Magnus laughs at that. Alec falls in love all over again. “I’m saying, sometimes you don’t have to participate to enjoy something. You can just watch. It’s still fun.” “Like porn,” Alec says.

VERY NEARLY SPIT OUT MY WATER AGAIN. I will never learn

YES THEY KISSED!!

Alec took the puppy with him??? I LOVE HIM

"say fuck in every sentence day" is actually the greatest thing ever yes I love it where do I join?

FIANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Alec, for the hundredth time, we can’t use the home theatre at the office just so you can watch Magnus’ insta reels on a big screen.”

And why the hell not?

AWW PURPLE PAW PRINTS!!!

LMAO ASMODEUS ISN'T COMING TO THE WEDDING!! his loss!

okay wow yes that was fucking amazing. and chaotic. and the funniest thing I have read in a long time. Dani this was seriously so good and I loved reading it SO MUCH!! THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME LAUGH SO MUCH

Okay it i past 3am I need to sleep. Byee <33 Also I am not proof reading this I am too tired so if this is like some fucked up mess I apologize. Okay good night

EVIE OMG I MISSED YOUR LIVE REACTIONS SO MUCH.

I was laughing the entire time lmaooooo.

God bless you, good human ♥️

#shades of gray

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daemondaes · 2 years ago

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fiivvee:

fully INTENDING to march on , five turned on his heel , not interested in indulging her any further . his jaw was set && hard but as she pushed those buttons , that he perhaps couldn’t melt her brain , five WANTED to blink out . get gone . anywhere . he couldn’t be assed with this bullshit . hands tightening into fists , his abilities fizzing as he pushed up the feeling of time && space that existed within him . the familiar blue electric hum carried out in waves from clenched knuckles , humming && pulsing , five couldn’t get enough to START a jump , couldn’t get enough going to push him through space . so , all of it fizzled out . ending in a stagnant && deflated wheeze . fuck . he was so tired . coffee . he needed coffee && maybe some food . sleep was the last thing on his mind . he had no interest - NONE - in pursing the conversation .

but sadly .

she did .

it seemed that she was fairly DETERMINED to either a) piss him off or b) get him to snap . five wasn’t entirely sure what her deal was , nor was he intently interested in finding out . but fuck , she had a lot of nerve . his eyes darkened , looking up from his brows as he turned to her again && held up a finger . ❝ are you deliberately being annoying , or are you genuinely like this all the time ? ❞ he asked exasperated as she poked fun at the knife .

the thought of her thinking it was some sort of private school . technically … wasn’t WRONG . she was just … 45 years off the mark . five shook his head then gave a deflated sigh . ❝ the knife is because people from my old job keep fucking harassing me , ❞ he said . ❝ && on top of those LOONIES , i got time thugs && time pirates all who are looking to get the last briefcase in EXISTENCE . && a family full of morons that i gotta keep in line somehow , ❞ he stared at her then ran his hand down his face , thoroughly exhausted .

❝ … why the FUCK do you care ? ❞ he said finally .

“Yes and yes? Some say it’s a gift.” Her brows arched as she frowned and contemplated the insult. She wasn’t offended. Objectively, she was an irritant, at least under these particular circumstances. All the same, he didn’t exactly scream tact and civility. “If you think this is bad, wait ’til I dial it up to eleven—which I won’t, not for you. Think your brain would melt in that case.”

She chewed over his explanation thoroughly. There really wasn’t any reason for her to care. Would his situation help her get her bearings at all? Most likely not. In fact, all appending the word “time” to nouns it didn’t belong in front of made this world extra headache-inducing. It sounded like the preposterous kind of thing Una would say. Cherry was ill-equipped to navigate these waters. “Great. So this is more 21 Jump Street. You’re forty-two, dermatologists hate you, and that’s why you’ve got...weaponry. You’re not a student, you’re an infiltrator.” Regardless of reality, it was fun to speculate.

“I’m no patriarch, but I get the whole keep my family in line thing. Serious.” Sometimes her vagaries were all that distracted her siblings from leaping at each other’s throats. She had a gold medal in pitching her comedy routine to hecklers. “Now, that briefcase...there happen to be a prize for the finder?” It was hard not to laugh. She wanted to mention that where she came from, briefcases were common, but didn’t want to risk ripping some hole in the space-time continuum. The briefcase she was thinking of was also completely different from the one he mentioned, but that was neither here nor there. “Guess I care ’cause you’re, like, a super interesting storyteller.”

#fiivvee #x. DEAD MAN'S PARTY.#may he one day learn to tolerate her

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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What’s yours is mine 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape, allusions to abuse, stalking, possessiveness, pregnancy, and more tags to be added.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: dark!Ransom Drysdale x pregnant!Reader

Summary: After five years, your past is far behind you but just as you think you can live your happily ever after, your ex shows up at the worst moment.

Note: I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing this and it will not be a long ongoing series but it will be a few parts. But Roo you say that all the time. Yes, well, I’m trying and I’m sorry but I’m gonna try to not be the worst.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh my god, is that really you?” the voice made you stand stalk straight.

You took a breath and forced a smile before you turned to the indomitable woman. You never expected to see Linda again, not after you broke up with her son almost five years ago. And there she was, as rigid and righteous as ever, her thin lips curved in a mocking grin.

“Linda,” you greeted her in a singsong and looked around the grocery store. You never went to the overpriced organic market but your local shop didn’t have dragonfruit and you had a painful craving, “how are you?”

“Darling, I’m just great,” she held an empty basket on her arm, an odd sight as you never expected her to do her own shopping, “oh, and look at you!” Before you knew it, her hand was on your stomach and you struggled not shy away, “how far are you?”

“Um,” you looked down at the large ring on her finger and resisted the urge to step away as you often did in this situation, “almost five months.”

“And married?” she grabbed your left hand and pretended to admire the small teardrop diamond, “gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you waited for you to release you and swayed in place, “you barely look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

“You’re well? You look well,” she primped her short hair at the compliment, “oh, a baby.” She reached out again and you sighed as she rubbed your stomach, “for luck.”

You tried not to frown and ended up laughing at the tension, “well, it was nice running into you.”

“Oh, you know, I barely come down here but we’re headed up to my father’s place, you remember, such a cozy house, and Joni is in charge of food and well, I wouldn’t trust her with a plastic spoon so of course, I have a back up plan.”

You nodded along with her awkwardly, frozen in the spot as the dragon fruit barely seemed worth the torture. Linda was hard to please and alway derisive, but for as long as you were with Ransom, she had taken a keen shine to you. That alone came with an edge but it was rarely used to cut you.

You forced another laugh, “that sounds fun, getting away from the city.”

“Ugh, just another family gathering,” she waved it off with her free hand, “I’ll have to tell Ransom I ran into you, if he even shows up.”

“Well, I don’t think--”

“He’s grown up so much,” she interrupted, “you wouldn’t believe it. He got his own imprint in my father’s company publishing true crime. He’s really making a place for himself now.”

“That’s great,” you tried not to falter at the mention of her son. You hadn’t ended on the greatest terms and your relationship had been tumultuous and regrettable.

“I hope you have a great weekend, Linda,” you said, “but I got to--”

“Oh, not at all, I’m keeping you,” she squeezed your arm, “God, he was such an idiot to let you go.”

You nodded and swallowed through your tight throat, “I’m glad he’s doing better for himself.”

“You too,” she trilled, “oh, before I let you go, darling, is it a boy?”

You blinked and your smile wavered, “how did you know?”

“I could always tell,” she said, “so precious.”

She gave your stomach one last pat and disappeared into the produce section. You blinked as you looked down at the scaled fruit in your right hand. Chocolate, you needed chocolate.

You were rattled as you waited in the express line and put your things on the belt. You hadn’t thought of Ransom in a very long time. Not much. His shadow followed you around in those moments when your heart raced and your head spun, but you had learned to work through those fits. No one else knew what happened behind closed doors, they only knew Ransom, not Hugh.

You paid and shoved your fruit and candy into a paper bag. You headed out into the misty spring air. The rain had finally stopped and left the streets slick and shining. The sun was hazy as it clung to the last of the clouds and you inhaled the wet scent of grass and gravel.

You let your key hang from the ignition as you took a moment to gather yourself. You stared at the modest ring on your finger and held your stomach and you swore you could still feel Linda’s bony hand there.

You had a loving husband, Dez, and a son on the way. Ransom wasn’t a part of any of that and this was just a blip on radar, the aftershock of the storm that ended years before. You sniffed and turned the engine. You wouldn’t go back to that store, it was far too expensive and the clientele were certainly not of your ilk.

🍼

Dez was in the kitchen when you got home, the smell of steak and peppers rose from the frying pan. You kissed his cheek as he kept one hand on the spatula and you dropped your bag on the counter beside the stove. You went to the fridge and poured yourself a glass of water. You turned and leaned against the marble and drank deeply.

“So, hon, how was your day?” he asked as he put the spatula down and peeked in the bag, “hmm, odd pairing but I don’t hate it.”

“I had a craving,” you shrugged, “it was… okay,” you heaved, “what’s for dinner?”

“Steak fajitas,” he said, “I trimmed the fat for you and,” he turned and reached out to you, “and I got you some champagne… non-alcoholic, obviously.”

“You know it doesn’t have the same effects,” you kidded as you put your glass down and settled into his arms, “and well,” you looked down at your stomach, “we already got one drunken night growing.”

He laughed and bent to kiss you on the lips. He rocked you as the pan sizzled behind him. You closed your eyes and tensed as suddenly your head flashed with the memory of Ransom, of the way he’d kiss you, harder than Dez, and the way it always turned to more whether you wanted it or not.

“Hey,” Dez pulled back, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, “hormones.”

“Aw, hon, well I have the perfect dessert planned,” he purred.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, strawberry massage oil,” he framed your face with his hand, “a nice long back rub…”

“Perfect,” you giggled, “why are you spoiling me?”

“Don’t I always?” he smirked.

“Hmm, rarely without reason,” you said.

“Well…” he voice trailed off and slowly he dropped his arms. He turned his back to you and grabbed the pan, stirring the contents with a shake, “I didn’t want you to miss me too bad.”

“Miss you?” you came forward and bent your arms over the counter, “where are you going?”

“Chicago, there’s some evidence down there we need to look at and they refuse to transfer it to our office so… bullshit confidentiality clause, but we need it.”

“How long?” your heart dropped.

“Well, I gotta leave in the morning but I told Gary I won’t stay longer than Monday.”

“And what did he say?”

“He laughed,” Dez shook his head, “I promise, I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can--”

“No, I understand,” you said gloomily, “it’s just…” you cupped your chin and tapped your lips with your fingertips, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said as he turned the burner off, “and this little guy,” he touched your stomach and you shivered as you remembered how Linda had done the same with her cold palm, “so, you choose a name yet?”

“Still not naming him Superman, babe,” you chided, “but no, I can’t make up my mind. God, it’s like my mind is in shambles, I can’t remember why I go in a room or even focus on one thing for more than two minutes before I’m distracted by what colour I want to paint the nursery and I can’t even decide on that because then I’m thinking about what kind of wood the crib should be--”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” he assured as he opened the bag of tortillas, “you’re still there, you’re just… sharing a brain right now.”

“Wasn’t enough to go around in the first place,” you scoffed.

“Shh,” he arranged the plates carefully, like a five star restaurant, tortillas stacked, steak and veg together, a little dish of cheese, some sour cream, lettuce, salsa, all divvied out in a spectacular salsa you would only make a mess of.

“I thought the pregnancy would give me a chance to finish my book, but--”

“Well, you got maternity leave after that,” he said.

“From what? Sitting at my keyboard and crying? I’ll just be holding a baby and crying,” you sighed, “you said you’d take some time off.”

“I did say that and I will,” he grabbed the plates and nodded you out of the kitchen. He set the plates on the table and you sat as he went to grab two glasses and as many bottles. He poured you your spineless champagne and had a beer for himself, “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You can’t take forever off,” you muttered, “we both know that. I could go back to copywriting and maybe--”

“Babe, that job made you miserable and you will finish your book,” he handed you a napkin, “I’ve read your stuff, it’s… you said your ex was in publishing?”

“Did I?”

“I thought you did, you never really… talk about the exes, which I love but, I think you said something about it. You don’t think he would--”

“No,” you snapped, “no,” you said softer, “he wouldn’t.”

“Sorry,” he said startled by your reaction, “I didn’t--”

“It’s nothing, I just-- exes, right?”

“It was a stupid suggestion,” he said, “I’m sorry, but… I have a client, he might have some contacts.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“I don’t have to, I want to because the world deserves to hear your voice,” he insisted, “I hate to share you but I’d be selfish to keep you to myself.”

You smiled and unfolded a tortilla. Still, your heart raced as the second mention of Ransom that day had you on edge. Dez watched you build your fajita and you looked up at him.

“Well, since you’ll be in Chicago, maybe I’ll get a few pages done.”

🍼

The call came on Monday, Dez wouldn’t be home that night. You contented yourself to stay in with your laptop and sugar cookies. Still, you barely got a sentence done before you snapped your computer closed and gave up with a frustrated grunt. You slept, not well, and got up with some trouble as your hips ached.

A good morning text from Dez made you smile but there was still no promise of an impending return. You felt pent up in the apartment and lonely as its emptiness reminded you of your absent husband. Too tense to sit down and type, you opted to go for a walk, hoping it would calm your nerves.

You walked past the shop windows and stopped to peek in at used books and handmade candles. You had no destination in mind, only a restless step. There was a little store at the corner with locally made quilts and knitted sweaters. The smell of potpourri wafted out from beneath the painted door and made your throat tickle. Even so, your curiosity drew you inside.

A small woman greeted you from behind the desk. She held two needles as she crocheted some indistinguishable craft. You smiled and said hello as you headed down the centre aisle. You looked along the racks of quilts, floral, striped, plaid, and polka dot. You stopped at a bright yellow piece with honey bees along the border. You hadn’t thought of yellow for the nursery.

You felt the soft fabric and checked the tag. You lifted the quilt from the bar, content that it was worth it and a great motivator. You stopped before you could turn back, a familiar voice chilled your blood.

“It’s cute,” Ransom said as he stepped up next to you, “kinda girly for a boy though.”

You glanced over at him and folded the blanket over your arm. You backed up but as you turned he did too. He blocked your bath as he stretched his arm across the aisle.

“My mother told me you were expecting,” he said, “and she was right, you look good.”

“What do you want?” you whispered as you clutched the quilt.

“Nothing, just saying hello,” his mouth slanted.

“Hugh, I’m not stupid,” you hissed, “it’s been five years.”

“Hugh,” he repeated dully, “you remember your manners.”

“Leave me alone and let me past,” you tried to duck under his arm but he shifted his body over and backed you up to the end of the aisle.

“And married,” he taunted.

“He’s outside,” you lied, “if I stay too long--”

“I didn’t see him when you walked up,” he intoned, “he must be easy to miss.”

“Have you been following me?” you uttered.

“Only from the cafe,” he shrugged, “short walk.”

“Please, get away from me,” you quivered.

“I’m not doing anything--”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hissed, “now I will scream so move.”

“Mama Bear,” he crooned, “I love it, you’re so protective.”

“Hugh,” you warned.

“Sweetie,” he hummed.

You shoved his shoulder but he didn’t move. You hit him harder and he winced. He chuckled and stood straight. He waved his arm down the aisle and stepped aside.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said, “you always did like to be dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, “don’t come near me again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t miss me,” he called after you as you dropped the quilt on the counter, “we were so good together.”

You left without buying, a shrill apology to the lady at the counter as you went as fast as you could out the door. The bell tinkled after you and the door clamored shut. You felt nauseous and dizzy. The last thing you wanted or needed was to ever see that man again.

#ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #fic #series #knives out #dark fic #dark!fic #what's yours is mine

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osamiiya · 4 years ago

Text

Calling them by their first name for the first time

Pairings: Hinata x Reader, Kageyama x Reader, Tsukishima x Reader, Yamaguchi x Reader

A/n I'm sure this has been done before, but I haven't seen one and I'm not trying to copy anyone intentionally. This is very self indulgent.

*All my opinion*

Hinata Shoyo

---

He's hinted at wanting you to address him by his first name in the past

Little things like "Did you know XX's s/o calls them by their first name?"

Hinata thinks he's slick

The first time you call him by his first name is at his house tho

Purely accidental

It seemed less awkward to call him by his first name after dating for a couple of months now

So you're in the kitchen, baking who knows what with Hinata, and it just slipped out

"Shoyo can you hand me the measuring spoons?"

It dosent even register in your heads are first, Hinata handing you the measuring spoons and going back to reading the instructions.

And then he freezes and turns to you.

"Wait what did you say?" A smile creeps up on his face, eyes sparkling.

It's your turn to freeze as your brain replays what you said.

"Should I not call you Shoyo?" You frown slightly because it looks like he's about to tease you for it.

Hinata just nods his head no rapidly and gathers you in his arms.

"Y/n." He's smiling down at you and you realize what he wants.

"Shoyo." It's light on your tongue and Hinata just laughs softly and kisses your cheek.

"If you ever stop calling me Shoyo I'll riot."

Kageyama Tobio

---

It was supposed to be a joke.

You were supposed to call him 'Tobio' and watch his face turn red.

Well, it did turn red but the rest of his reaction was so sweet.

You're cuddling on your bed, he had fallen asleep with you in his arms.

He woke up hours later, breathing softly, nose tucked into the side of your head.

Kageyama hadn't hinted or mentioned you calling him by his first name so it made you wonder what his reaction would be.

The situation was sweeter than you had expected

---

"Tobio... Tobio?" You tried to kiss his jaw to wake him up, and it worked somewhat, his eyes opened and looked down at you, a sleepy smile stretching across his face.

"G'morning y/n." He either didn't hear you, it didn't register in his head, of he didn't care, which annoyed you slightly from the lack of response.

Either way Kageyama closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep again.

"Tobio, you've gotta get up." His eyes opened slightly, and he planted a lazy kiss on your head.

"Let me enjoy this dream a little longer."

Then it hit you, he thought he was dreaming.

"Tobio you aren't dreaming." You kiss his cheek, giggling against it slightly as you feel his skin heat up under your lips.

He just groaned loudly in embarrassment and tried to tuck his face away to where you couldn't see it.

"Tobio." You sing song, and it's almost comical to see how quick his head turned.

"Again." His eyes are looking into yours, and you can her the genuine happiness growing.

"Tobio." He pulls you into his chest, and his exchange happens a couple more times, Kageyama's heart beating quickly every time you say his name.

"I didn't know I would like hearing my given name from your lips so much." It's whispered into the air like a secret and the butterflies ignite on your stomach.

Tsukishima Kei

---

You didn't actually say his name

In fact, Tsukishima had asked for you to get something for him and you had just responded "K!"

He thought you said his name

like genuinely

Tsukishima was playing it so cool too, trying to act like it didn't affect him when really he was trying not to smile.

he's embarrassed when you say you weren't calling him

---

"Y/n can you get me a water while youre in the kitchen?" You can't see his face but you can hear the smirk on his lips.

"K!" That's all it was, a shortened version of 'ok!'.

Tsukishima, trying to stop the growing smile on his face as he jogged to the kitchen where you were, believed you needed

"Did you need something?" He scared you by appearing so suddenly, leaning against the wall eyes wondering around to see what you needed his for.

You blink a couple times when trying to remember when you called him, but nothing turns up.

"I didn't call you?"

Tsukishima huffs, starting to think you were just joking with him.

"Yes you did, you said 'Kei' when I asked you to get me water..." His voice trails off as it clicks in his brain, cheeks reddening as he groans in embarrassment.

You stifle a laugh as you watch him go through some internal dilemma.

"Well now that you're here, can you get the cup off the shelf for me Kei?"

Tsukishima can't even hide the grin on his face was he gets the cup and hands it to you, mind replaying how you said his name so sweetly.

Yamaguchi Tadashi

---

He was pouting because you had called one of your close friends by their first name

In all honesty, he was slightly jealous.

Yamaguchi didn't want to ask you to call him by his first name just because he was slightly nervous to ask

But he had decided to go on strike and not respond until you called him by 'Tadashi'

You just wanted his help on the math, but he ignored your calls.

---

"Yamaguchi?" You poked him with your pencil to get his attention, just to be met with no response.

"Babe~" The pencil poking didn't stop, still eliciting no response, prompting you to lean over and kiss this forehead to get his attention.

The Yamaguchi in question not responding, even as his cheeks flush slightly under his freckles.

You sigh and think of what he might respond to, going through every nickname you've ever called him, just to be met with Yamaguchi continuing to do his math homework.

Not even a glance upwards.

"Tadashi...?" He didn't think you would do it, he was going to look up at the next nickname.

Yamaguchi's head snaps up, almost hitting yours in the process.

The two of you stare at eachother for a moment, before you laugh softly.

"I need help on math Tadashi."

It feels like Yamaguchi's heart is going to explode as he explains the concept to you, doing a problem to show you the steps.

"I wouldn't mind if you called me 'Tadashi' from now on." His ears are red as he smiles towards you, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

---

Taglist:

@tetsurolls @elianetsantana @peteunderoos @jovialnoise @ryusex-wife @dai-tsukki-desu @aruhappy @indecisivehusky @curiouslilbeast @kageyuji @alphabetsoupyum @dumbiebambi @dejvns @x-ia-n @llamakenma @hawksnumberoneuwu @prayerofthehaim @morpheus-rex @kac-chowsballs @sushii10 @chiiasa @sachirou-senpai @kenmas-bitxh

*Taglist form in navigation

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onceupon · 3 years ago

Text

London Boy - Part 4: Just friends

summary: You wake up to find Rafe Cameron in your bed. Even though nothing happened, you’re still left trying to make sense of it all.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: thank you so much to all of you who have been reading along <333 sorry in advance if you want this to progress faster haha, it simply must be this slow, sorry I don't make the rules (even tho I do lol). Not canon Rafe!!

masterlist

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the early morning rays wake you up. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. As you slowly gain consciousness you’re startled by the weight of Rafe’s arm draped across your body. What the hell? When did that happen? He spent the night in your bed?

Your mind races at a million miles an hour as you slowly slip out from under his hold. You were careful not to wake him up, not wanting to face any awkwardness. You throw on fresh clothes and grab your backpack, desperate to make your escape. You had wanted to get to school early today to work on some homework anyways, never before so eager to trade in the comfort of your bed for the library.

After a quick pit stop to pick up a coffee and a croissant, you swing the heavy wooden doors open. You liked campus at this hour, the morning light still soft, the air crisp, and the atmosphere silent. As you scan your eyes for a spot to sit, you notice the unmistakable sight of fluffy brown hair hunched over a table.

“Liam?” your whisper. “What the hell are doing here?”

That classic cheeky grin spreads across his face as he looks up to find you standing in front of him. “I go here, Y/n. Forget already?”

You roll your eyes, “I just didn’t know you were the studious type.”

“Not gonna lie to you babe, I’m not. But Rogers is already all the way up my ass over this class, and I’m not letting that prick hold me back a year.”

You pull out the chair across from him and go to sit down, spreading your books out on the table.

“Who said you could sit with?” he asks, and you shoot him a look. You’re not in the mood. “Geez alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed… you good Y/n?” he slows, taking in your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t so much as brushed your hair.

“Can you promise not to tell anyone,” you stare dead into his eyes.

“On my life,” he extends his pinky, and you accept.

“Rafe… slept over last night…”

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, and your eyes widen at his echoing voice.

“Not like that,” you hiss, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the two of you. “Nothing happened… like he just came over to watch a show and then we talked for a while and just accidentally… fell asleep. I panicked when I woke up and realized he was still in my bed so I ran out of there as fast as I could and now…. well now I’m here.” You nervously chug your coffee, heart racing.

“So he hung out with you all night and didn’t make a move?”

You nod, nervously awaiting his analysis as you take a bite of your croissant.

“Damn, boy must really like you,” he muses.

“What? Definitely not,” you scoff.

“Y/n, let me tell you a little something about guys. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. The fact that he’s coming over your room to watch a show and hanging out with you until he physically can’t stay awake - I mean I can’t make it any more obvious to you.”

“I don’t know I just don’t think so… You don’t know Rafe like that, he’s a total player back home. He can pull any girl he wants, so if he liked me like that he would’ve done something by now. This is probably how he is with all his friends and I’m just reading too much into it. I’m sure Lily Colts will be in his bed soon enough,” you mumble. That last part stings in particular, you had already thought it, but saying it out loud made you feel… icky.

“I may not know Rafe like that, but I know guys like him. I am guys like him. He likes you Y/n. So what if he pulls a lot of chicks, he doesn’t actually care about them. But he cares about you, probably can’t even understand why, and now it’s like bam Uno reverse. He can’t pull the cards he normally does, and now you’ve got him confused and he doesn’t know what to do. Man’s down bad. Give him time though, he’ll come around,” he explains to you calmly, stealing your coffee cup from you and taking a sip.

“Honestly can I just start paying you to figure my life out for me. You make everything seem so simple.”

“Because it is simple. You insist on complicating it. But I know how you could pay me,” he adds with a wink and you shoot him a glare. You know he’s just joking (partially), he loves pushing your buttons.

“Well whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it,” you resign on the Rafe matter. You wanted to believe what Liam was saying but it didn’t quite make sense to you. You were only going to drive yourself crazy trying to read between lines that you weren’t sure existed. Rafe was just used to situations like this with girls. To him last night was probably no big deal. It was to you though. You would never let ‘just a friend’ stay over like that, with his arm around you no less. But Rafe didn’t need to know that, you decide.

—-

You manage to avoid Rafe all day, not having any classes with him on Friday’s. As soon as your last class is over, you sprint home, relieved when you’re the first back at the flat and can quickly slip into your room undetected. You set down your bag and sit on the edge of your bed. Your hand slowly runs over your comforter, still ruffled from where Rafe had been laying the night before. The indent of his head is still on your pillow; you can almost smell the scent of him lingering in your room and hear the sound of his soft whispers. You wonder what his first thoughts were when he woke up in your bed alone - was he confused? Embarrassed? He probably thought nothing of it at all. You can just picture him casually getting up with a stretch, like it’s the start of any typical day.

You slip into the shower and let the water wash over your body. It’s warm and soothing, and it’s reminding you of Rafe laying next to you, of his arm wrapped around you. God if there was only a way to shut your brain off once in a while. As much as you tried to suppress it, there had been a tiny part of you that was happy to have woken up in his embrace, giddy like a school girl with a crush. You’d always wondered how a moment like that would feel, or how a moment like that with him would feel. You had conveniently failed to mention the “arm” detail to Liam, maybe because in the back of your mind you knew it would only help prove his theory right.

When you make your way back to your room, your phone buzzes and the Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 group chat appears.

Olivia: who wants to go out tonight 😈

Topper: me and Rafe have to be up early tmrw for soccer - rain check on this one ladies

Olivia: :(

Olivia: girls night out??

Millie: you know I’m there!

You’re a little bummed that Rafe won’t be there tonight. But a girls night sounds like just what you need to get him off your mind.

Y/n: I’m in :)

Not even a few minutes later Olivia and Millie are barging into your room, causing you to let out a startled yelp.

“My god, heard of knocking,” you exhale with your hand coming to your chest. Your statement falls on death ears.

“Which jeans with this top,” Olivia asks, holding the clothing items against her body.

“Should I curl or straighten my hair with this,” Millie follows, holding her outfit up.

“Uhh,” your mind scrambles, “those jeans Liv. And straight, Mills,” you reply, shocked by your own decidedness. “But now you guys have to help me, I have no clue what to wear.”

“Say less,” Olivia flashes a smile.

Within minutes they tear through your closet, picking out your outfit. Things were always much more clear with a fresh set of eyes. The three of you discuss the night’s logistics before making your way to the kitchen - couldn’t go drinking on an empty stomach. Rafe and Topper are already there, and you try your best to act natural even though your stomach ties itself in a knot the moment you catch a glimpse of his face. You haven’t seen him since you ran out this morning.

“Uh hey I’m gonna run to Sainsbury’s real quick, I wanna get a chaser, anyone need anything,” you ask, avoiding eye contact with Rafe. Your nerves get the best of you and in terms of fight or flight, you were ready to flee.

“Hey wait I’ll come with you. Gotta pick something up for dinner,” Rafe stands grabbing his jacket, and before you can interject, he’s leading the way down the hall and out your shared flat.

“So what are you chasing tonight?”

“What?” you ask startled, his question pulling you back to reality. Your mind had been running in a loop, trying to read him and the thoughts in his head. You wished now more than ever that you knew what Rafe was like behind closed doors back home, so you could somehow make sense of it all.

He chuckles at you, lost in your own world. “You said you needed a chaser?” Those intimidating blue eyes have found their way to yours again and you hastily look away, focusing in front of you instead.

“Oh yeah- uh just for the vodka,” you laugh nervously.

“Basic,” he mocks. You scoff in surprise and lightly hit him on the chest as the laughter leaves your lips. He’s sporting a shit-eating grin, having successfully egged you on.

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna do shots of whiskey before going to a club.”

“Well you do owe me one…” he says.

“Oh so he remembers?” you reply, amused.

“Of course,” he states so calm and so sure. Your head swirls at that, his cool confidence making you melt. The automatic doors slide open in front of you, fluorescent lights stealing your attention from the boy you were finding dangerously more attractive by the second.

“I thought we’re supposed to take it together? But someone’s being lame and not coming out tonight,” you say sarcastically, playing it as cool as you can manage. Rafe’s confidence seemed to come naturally, but you were more of a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of gal.

“Hey you know I have soccer,” he defends. The Kook Prince was not one to turn down a party without cause.

“Excuses excuses,” you shake your head.

“Actually, speaking of soccer, you uh- you and the girls should come tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything. Or not too hungover I should say. Game’s at 12.”

“Can’t make any promises Cameron, but we’ll see,” you smile, earning a satisfied smile from him in return.

You make your way to the frozen food aisle, Rafe explaining to you how they call a soccer field a football pitch here, as you laugh at him grabbing 5 frozen pizzas (dinner solved for the next week, of course). You ask him which chaser you should pick. He points out a cola, so naturally you decide to get blackberry seltzer water, Rafe twisting his face in disgust (who would voluntarily drink that tv static). You always felt so nervous at first, to be in Rafe’s presence, but all it ever took was a few minutes for you to completely relax around him. He was intimidating, yet inviting. Mysterious, yet open. He was somehow the cause of your anxious nerves and yet the source of your comfort. The fear of facing Rafe after running out this morning had paralyzed your thoughts all day, and now you could hardly remember why. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, as if nothing happened. His normalcy confirmed for you that him sleeping over was in fact no big deal, and you almost want to laugh at yourself for how much you had worked it up in your head. You two were just friends, and perhaps Rafe was used to being… a friendlier friend than what you were used to. But that was okay, you could learn to be friendlier too.

—-

Rafe and Topper had decided to accompany you guys in the kitchen as you pregamed. They slowly sipped beers as you, Millie, and Olivia pounded back shots, laughing at the way you guys got progressively drunker and progressively louder before finally heading out. And much to your surprise, the boys were still seated in the same spot hours later, when the three of you stumble back into the flat, McDonalds in hand.

“Oh look who’s still up,” Olivia slurs, taking a bite of her cheeseburger.

“We can’t go out, we have soccer,” Millie mocks, almost falling to the floor as she trips over her heel, Topper and Rafe not making any effort to hide their clear amusement.

“Fun night huh?” Topper quirks his brow.

“The funnest,” Millie holds her head high, sinking down against the wall until she’s sat on the floor. You had made a beeline for the dining room table, silently admiring your chicken nuggets. In that moment, they were the best thing you had ever tasted.

“I want Jake,” Olivia pouts, and before anyone can say a word she’s turned on her heel, burger in hand, off to crawl into her boyfriend’s bed.

“Alright you drunk, let’s get you to bed,” Topper laughs, scooping an incoherent Millie up to her feet by her elbows.

“M’not drunk,” Millie protests, even though she’s leaning her full body weight against Topper who sarcastically nods at her, escorting her down the hallway. Rafe sits on the couch, silently playing with the cards in his hand again, not the least bit uncomfortable with sharing your company in silence.

“I’m mad at you,” you say matter of factly, taking a bite of a french fry. At this point, the alcohol is doing the talking.

“Mad at me?” Rafe stops shuffling the cards and raises his head to look at you, intrigued.

“Yeah because you didn’t come to the club,” you furrow your brows, chucking a fry at him. He catches it instantly, laughing to himself with a shake of his head.

“Don’t worry I saw all your guys’ snaps, I feel like I was practically there.”

“That’s not the same,” you frown, throwing another fry which he catches yet again.

“I’ll try to be there next time,” he laughs.

“That’s better I guess,” you grumble, eating another chicken nugget. The room grows quiet, Rafe training his attention back to the cards.

“When are we watching the next episode Cameron,” you break the silence, chucking another fry. He barely has to look up to catch your latest throw, shaking his head with a chuckle. He puts the cards down and makes his way over to the dining table, standing right above you now.

“Come on, time for you to go to bed,” he beckons you toward him with his arm, to which you only furrow your brows in indignation.

“I’m not done with my food,” you protest.

“Now you are,” he says, grabbing your last fry and finishing it with one bite. “Now c’mon.” You reluctantly grab onto his extended arm to help you get up. You walk down the hall together and he opens your door for you, letting you in as he leans against the frame. You immediately fall back and collapse on to your bed with a gasp, you didn’t remember it feeling so soft when you were sober.

“Goodnight L/n,” Rafe laughs, staring down at you.

“Goodnight Rafe,” you mumble, seconds away from passing out. He smiles to himself at the sight of you still in the outfit and shoes you had been out in, bent in surely the most uncomfortable position possible, legs half way off the bed, yet somehow already asleep. He’s about to head back to his room, but he hesitates, turning back to you with a sigh. As slowly and quietly as he can, he pulls your shoes off for you, lifts your legs onto the bed, and covers you in your blanket. And just as quick, he slips out of your room and back into his.

—-

You wake up the next morning, letting out a groan when you realize you’re still in the outfit you had worn clubbing. Your head dully aches and your throat is desert dry so you force yourself up and to the kitchen. When you see the aftermath of McDonald’s containers on the table, vague memories start flooding your brain in horror. You couldn’t have… could you? Did you actually throw french fries at him? You close your eyes and slowly run your hand over your face in realization. Great, you think to yourself, Rafe probably thinks you’re an annoying idiot. Good grief.

You hear the door of the flat opening and Olivia appears in the kitchen, holding a plate of breakfast sandwiches, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Thank the lovely lads in apartment 4E,” she laughs, placing them on the table. “Oh god, we went hard last night didn’t we,” she says, taking in the sight of the flat.

“A little too hard…” you remark.

“No such thing, darling! Now eat up and get dressed, we’ve got a match to catch,” she declares before disappearing down the hall where you can hear muffled groans of Millie being reluctantly dragged out of her bed. You sigh and sink down into a chair, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. Heaven. You make a mental note to thank Jake for his chef skills. You had completely forgotten that you and the girls were supposed to go watch Rafe and Topper’s match today. Your worries about having to face Rafe yesterday had been quick to melt away, but today they were back with a new vengeance.

—-

“Okay no one wander off when we get there. Y/n, fair warning, these games get… rowdy,” Millie says, as the three of you walk toward the field, arms linked.

“Things get pretty crazy at Kildare too,” you laugh, “so yeah, don’t fucking let me out of your sight.”

The three of you shake off your fits of laughter as you stumble toward the stands, finding a spot amongst the already packed crowd. You’re finally able to take in your surroundings, glancing at the field ahead. The opposing team is warming up on the pitch, clad in red. Westheath’s team is off to the side, the boys stretching and getting ready in their white uniforms. The dirty blonde immediately catches your eye. He’s jumping and jogging in place, headphones in as though he’s tuning out the physical noise around him, and probably the mental noise too. You wonder if he’s listening to one of the songs he showed you the other night.

He pauses his jogging to stretch out his arms, his eyes glazing over the stands, when suddenly they lock with yours. Your cheeks flush pink, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but his face just pulls into a wide grin and he gives you a wave. You wave back, and he does a quick hand motion that everyone does at Kildare games back home. You laugh and do the responding gesture, as he smiles cheekily at you before a teammate comes up to him, pulling his focus away. The exchange was brief, but oddly intimate. There was a whole field and a couple dozen people between you, and yet you two were the only witnesses to the interaction. You smile to yourself, relief in the fact that maybe getting a french fry chucked at him wasn’t enough to make him hate you after all. You wonder briefly if Rafe spends half as much time overanalyzing things the way you do. Liam was right, you do insist on overcomplicating things.

“Hey, earth to Y/n!” Olivia laughs, waving her hand in front of your face. “The game is starting!”

—

The final score flashes on the screen: 4-2, a win for Westheath. The students are going nuts, rushing the field. Olivia and Millie lead the way, pushing through the crowd until you guys reach Rafe and Topper.

“Let’s go boys!!” Olivia yells, jumping up and down with the sea of bodies and beer around you. Rafe and Topper react with equal enthusiasm, pulling each of you in for a hug. You and Rafe are the last to hug, him pulling you in brief but close against his large sweaty body, arms wrapped around you. You don’t even mind the stickiness of the hug, feeling deja vu at the warm feeling of being in his embrace again; a feeling that is foreign yet familiar, one you hadn’t felt before.

“Did you guys see Rafe’s goal in the second half!?” Topper asks, clapping his friend on the back.

“Of course we did, super star!” Millie cheers, giving Rafe a high five as he humbly shakes his head and laughs at his friends. The mental image of his goal was burned in your head, one that your mind would certainly play for you involuntarily over the next coming days.

“Alright we gotta go do some stuff with the team, but everyone’s going to Central Bar later. See you guys there?” Rafe asks.

“You got it,” Olivia replies, and they jog off with quick waves, you meeting those blue eyes in silent acknowledgement once again. It was that gaze that always made the rest of the world seem to disappear while his eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Just a tall, attractive, soccer-playing friend…

—

“Y/n! Liv! We’re doing a round!” Jake calls you and Olivia over to where him and Liam are already at the bar, four shot glasses ordered and lined up.

“On three! One, two-“ Liam chants, as the four of you down the alcohol. Central Bar had been buzzing with what felt like half of Westheath’s student body all day. After the game, you and the girls had gone back to your flat to nap and eat, before meeting up with Jake, Liam, and the rest of their boys to head to the bar. Rafe and Topper were already pretty buzzed when you guys got there, playing a round of table tennis with you before the rest of the soccer team and their other friends pulled their attention away. You couldn’t help the way your whole body tensed when Rafe greeted Lily with a tight hug, humbling you with the confirmation that Rafe’s actions toward you weren’t anything special. You resolved yourself to a night of drinking and dancing your worries away with Liv and Liam instead.

“Alright, round of table tennis? You two against me and Y/n?” Liam challenges.

“Please, I saw Y/n playing before, you guys have nothing on us,” Olivia flashes an evil smile, her competitive side coming out.

“Oh it’s on Liv,” you laugh, as your foursome stakes your claim at the pong table. While Olivia and Jake gather the balls and paddles, you notice Liam grimacing off into the distance. You follow his line of sight, landing on Topper and Millie drunkenly dancing together across the bar, a bit too close for comfort.

“What is she doing with that geezer,” he mumbles.

“Liam! Jealousy is unbecoming of you,” you gasp in mock disbelief.

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, and you quickly realize that he actually is, even though you had just been joking. Your jaw falls slack as you put two and two together. Liam and Millie were always by each other’s side, at school, at the pub, when you were all watching a movie at his apartment a few nights ago. He would tease her relentlessly and his own words rang in your ears If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Shut up! Shut up!,” you whisper yell, hand coming to your mouth. “I should have realized this whole time… of course you like Millie! Everything you’ve been telling me you think exists between me and Rafe has actually been about her! She’s your Uno reverse card!” You’re shocking even yourself at these revelations.

“No no no, you can’t use my own words of wisdom against me, that’s not how this works Y/n. So what, maybe I slightly give a shit about Millie? Who cares. Her and I both know that’s never gonna happen. I still stand by everything I said about you and Rafe so don’t think your getting off so easy on that.”

“Then tell me why you’re staring at Millie while Rafe hasn’t so much as glanced my way since the minute Lily Colts got here, hmm?”

“Oh Y/n, Y/n Y/n Y/n,” Liam tuts, shaking his head laughing as he turns to the game your group of four is about to begin. You don’t have the energy to argue with Liam over the matter right now, oblivious to the fact that Rafe had indeed been glancing your way, several times. In fact, he was glancing at you right now, as Liam reached his arm over yours to help you actually hold the paddle the right way. You just hadn’t been glancing back to notice, scared of what you may or may not see between him and Lily if you did.

—

The night dies down and it’s time for the pilgrimage back to your building. You’re walking with Millie when Liam quickly falls in step with you two. You give him a knowing smirk, to which he responds with a glare behind Millie’s back, but you let the two banter as you fall behind, now walking alone. You stare ahead, eyes mindlessly settling on Lily walking in between Callum and Henry at the front of the pack. You don’t notice the pair of legs that begin moving in pace next to your own.

“Tonight, by the way,” Rafe’s voice startles you as you jump next to him. He chuckles at the confusion written all over your face. “You asked last night when we’re watching the next episode. And my answer is tonight, L/n,” he states.

“Haven’t you been up since like the crack of dawn? Aren’t you tired?” you ask incredulously.

“Too tired for Game of Thrones? Never,” he scoffs, Liam’s words ringing in your ear. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Well then tonight it is,” you smile. “Sorry about the french fries last night by the way,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk in front of you, cheeks burning.

“Seriously L/n, talk about a horrible throw. Room for improvement,” he jokes with a comforting smile, saving you from yourself.

“Good game by the way,” you add, grateful for the way he was letting you off.

“Thanks,” he looks at you, shoving his hands in his pocket. You turn to look at him too, and after a few moments laughter is taking you both apart. Nothing funny was said. Neither of you knew why you were laughing. And yet it felt natural, not an ounce of awkwardness in the air.

As your whole group walks into the building, people begin to peel off, splitting towards staircases and off elevator stops.

“I’m fucking beat,” yawns Topper, as you and all your flatmates file into your hall.

“I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight,” Millie yawns in agreement. One by one everyone files off into their rooms. You open your door, backing into yours, Rafe across the hall from you backing into his. Laughter tugs at both your faces once again, as you let your doors close. You manage to change into your sweats and brush your teeth before you hear the light rap on your door. Rafe enters, in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants, your weakness. But you feel comfortable being alone with him now. The Rafe jitters had finally began to subside.

“Alright L/n, episode 4, you ready for this?” he asks, plopping down in his spot next to you.

“Oh I’m very ready,” you reply, sitting up to reach for your laptop which was resting by your feet. As you lean back, you find yourself in Rafe’s arm. He had extended it out before you sat back, effortlessly catching you against him. His hand rests casually on your arm, and you gulp, pressing play. You pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat quickens and your body flushes. So much for those jitters being gone.

The episode plays, you and Rafe making comments here and there before your chatter eventually dies down, leaving just the sound of the show to fill the room. You can feel Rafe’s body lean further and further down, becoming heavier and breathing slower. You very slowly turn to check, and sure enough he’s fast asleep. You sigh, and shut your laptop, careful not to stir him. You could easily shake him awake, tell him to go to his bed, but for some reason you don’t. You don’t mind him here. In fact, you almost prefer it, his body heat keeping you warm. He had already slept over once before and it clearly hadn’t been a big deal, so what was the harm in letting it happen again? You’re just friends after all, you remind yourself, not sure who you’re trying to convince. And so, the two friends fall asleep in the same bed again.

---

🏷: @hopebaker @pogueslandia @mardema

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine

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sour--disposition · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Girlfriend

harry lewis x fem!reader

@ketamineharry suggested a harry imagine based off of Anne-Marie’s Bad Girlfriend and voila

please check my pinned post for request/prompt info and my masterlist

You cancel plans for me - I cancel ours on you - Say I'd be back early - I don't get in 'til 2 - You ask me where I've been - I tell you something vague - Think I messed up again - What can I say

You were sick and tired of Harry and his behaviour. When you first got together, you chalked his actions up to being young and dumb. And then to getting used to having more money. Then you blamed it on having to deal with so much at such a young age.

The excuses piled up, one on top of the other. You knew one day it would all come toppling down around you, drowning you and Harry in a sea of problems that you doubted you’d be able to survive. You’d excused cheating, been by his side during hangovers from hell and comedowns that took too long to make Harry realise that the high really wasn’t worth the pain. You’d rubbed his back and handed him bottles of water and paracetamol and nursed him back to health, only for him to go and get in the same state the next weekend and expect you to help him gather the pieces back together again.

You’d tried to patch things up. Every time that you went to Harry to air all your concerns, tell him that if he doesn’t get his act together that you’d leave, and he always promised that things would be better this time. But something would always happen. There’d be plans he’d forget or cancel. He’d get too drunk and end up with hands over another girl’s body.

“Ooh, you look nice”, Harry commented as soon as you answered his FaceTime call. “What are you doing?”, he asked you.

“I’m off out with some girls from uni tonight”, you told him as you stood up from the sofa and started gathering your things together.

“I thought you were coming over?”, he said, a small pout forming on his lips.

“Sorry”, you said nonchalantly. “I’ll make it up to you, yeah”, you told him half-heartedly.

“Yeah, whatever”, Harry huffed. “Come back here after?”, he suggested.

“Sure”, you said, a small smile on your lips. “I’ve gotta go, their taxi just pulled up. Love you”, you rushed out, hanging up and shoving your phone into your clutch, along with your keys, card and some cash.

Harry 💕: where are you it’s 11?

Harry💕: y/n c’mon i miss you

Harry💕: am i waiting up for you or not?

Harry💕: its 2am

You didn’t read the texts until you were swaying on the spot in the lift of Harry’s apartment building. Your vision was fuzzy as you tried to find the right key for their front door. “Y/N?”, Harry asked, opening the door.

“Hey”, you slurred, stumbling towards him. “I couldn’t see your key”, you told him.

“Where’ve you even been?”, Harry asked, voice dripping with distaste and disappointment.

“Here, there, everywhere”, you giggled.

“Come on, go to bed”, Harry said sternly. “I have a shoot tomorrow and Josh will kill me if I’m late or lacking”, he told you.

“Oh, I am so very sorry”, you drawled, exaggerating all of your words, much to your own amusement.

“I’m not being funny, Y/N. Go to bed or go home”, Harry said sharply.

Your face dropped, the small square inch of your brain that was yet to be drenched in vodka and whatever else you’d been drinking lit up with anger. “Fine”, you snapped. You stormed down the hallway, sure of your footing this time and not stumbling once.

“Where are you going?”, Harry called after you.

“Home!”, you shouted, wrenching the front door open and slamming it behind you as hard as you could.

You shivered in the cold, late night wind of London as you waited on the curbside for your taxi. As soon as the car pulled up, you slid into the backseat and rattled off your address. The street lights and neon signs of London passed by in a blur of alcohol and anger and regret. “Thanks. Keep the change”, you muttered, handing a note over to the driver and getting out of the taxi.

Once you’d got back into your apartment, you changed into some pyjamas and took your make-up off as quickly as possible. You crawled under the covers, pulling them around your body and getting comfy in the middle of your bed.

Part of you felt a little guilty for how you’d treated Harry, but a bigger part of you couldn’t find the effort to care. You’d put up with Harry acting like this for 6 years, he could tolerate you doing it once or twice.

You wanna meet my friends - I say another day

“Another day, Harry”, you sighed, heavily, turning back to the work you were trying to get done for your classes.

“You always say that. You’ve been on this course for, like, a year”, Harry whined.

“I know but I really need to focus on work at the moment, Harry”, you told him. “I started my degree later than I wanted to anyway and then I didn’t commit to it like I should have last year because of…”, you trailed off. “Another day”.

“Because of what?”, Harry asked, voice taking a combative edge as he sat up straighter.

“Harry, I don’t want to get into this again”, you sighed heavily, slumping into your chair.

“Well, you started it!”, he argued. “So finish your sentence. Go on!”, he goaded.

“I couldn’t commit to my degree because I was too busy looking after you!”, you shouted. “Is that what you wanted? Me to lash out? Fucking well done”, you spat. You gathered up your things as quick as you could, closing your book and shoving things into your bag.

“Where are you going now?”, Harry asked frustratedly.

“Home. I have an essay to do for next week”, you muttered as you shoved past Harry.

Things between you and Harry were only getting worse. You knew about the other girls, but the both of you just pretended that you didn’t. All of his friends saw Harry as some sheepish kid with a loud mouth girlfriend, but they never got to see the Harry that you were seeing more and more. The Harry that held things from years ago against you, the Harry that was becoming more controlling by the day, the Harry that would raise his voice when things went even slightly not his way… The Harry that wasn’t the same Harry that you fell in love with.

'Cause I'm one in a million - More like in a billion - I don't think it's cheating if I'm kissing other women - I do some shit you can't forgive - And you better get used to it

The more you and Harry argued, the more his friends didn’t like you. They hid it well, especially Simon and Josh since you were such good friends with Talia and Freya. But you noticed the side glances you’d get anytime you laughed a little louder than usual, any time you’d say something that would make Talia or Freya cackle. You’d notice the looks that they would send Harry when you had the audacity to go and dance and your own, or when you’d be on your phone whilst everyone else was fighting to keep you out of the conversation.

You had no doubt in your mind that Harry was telling them bare-faced lies about you and hiding the truth about himself. You knew that they had no clue about Harry’s cheating, about how bad his drinking and substance abuse had truly been, how much he actually relied on you for day to day functioning. All they knew was that you were loud, argumentative and didn't give Harry the time of day when it came to uni work.

“Do you think she knows she’s punching?”, you heard Ethan ask JJ.

“I mean, it’s so obvious. Harry’s miles out of her league. C’mon man!”, JJ laughed in reply.

You looked to Harry to see his reaction. You knew he’d heard what was said, but based on the look on his face, he couldn’t care less. You didn’t need the validation from your boyfriend’s best friends, but it would be nice if your boyfriend would at least defend you or reassure you.

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave the table, heading towards the toilets. You were facing the mirror, touching up your hair and make-up, when Freya and Talia walked in. “What happened?”, Talia asked.

You told them what you’d heard and watched as their faces contorted into looks of horror. “Oh my god!”, Freya exclaimed. “What did Harry say!?”, she asked, coming closer to hold you hand supportively.

Your silence answered their question perfectly. “I can’t believe him”, Talia huffed, wrapping her arms around you.

“Things haven’t been great, but I never thought he’d just sit and let his best friends slag me off practically to my face”, you told them. Your eyes were watery.

“Hey, babe. Don’t let your mascara run”, a dark haired girl told you, handing you a tissue. “Whoever is letting someone slag you off is stupid”, she assured you.

“My boyfriend”, you said sadly.

“I hate boys”, she laughed darkly, rolling her eyes, before rejoining her group of friends.

You, Talia and Freya emerged from the toilets around 5 minutes later, once you were sure that your tears had dried and weren’t going to restart. The three of you walked towards the table, Freya and Talia immediately sliding next to Josh and Simon.

“Where’s Harry?”, you asked, not seeing him anywhere. Ethan gave you a look and pointed towards the dancefloor before turning back to his conversation with JJ and Vik.

You glanced over towards the dancefloor, hoping you’d see Harry. Thankfully, he was towards the edge, back turned towards you. You watched as he turned around, ready to try and grab his attention. His eyes met yours, briefly filling with panic, before darting back down to the girl in his arms.

“Fuck this”, you muttered, as Harry’s friends and Freya and Talia all watched as he tried to assess the situation and what to do.

He watched as you walked closer, looking ready to send the stranger away. Harry’s eyes followed you as you sailed past him and towards the middle of the dance floor. You could feel eyes on you as you began dancing to the music, letting the beat mix with the alcohol and take over your body.

“Did you sort things with your boyfriend?”, a female voice asked. It was the girl from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes somewhat playfully at her.

“No”, you snorted. “I came to speak to him and he was all over another girl”, you told her. Your eyes darted over to where you’d last seen Harry. “That’s him there, sucking face with the blonde”.

“I hope he’s your ex-boyfriend now”, she told you, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s complicated”, you admitted, looking down in shame. It wasn’t news to you that you were letting Harry treat you like a doormat, but you had yet to muster up the courage to leave him. Just as you looked up, ready to offer to explain it over a drink, someone behind you shoved you, sending you catapulting into the girl’s arms.

“Careful there, can’t have you falling for me already. I’ve not even started flirting yet”, she told you with a smirk. “Martha”, she said politely, holding out a hand.

“Y/N”, you told her with a shy smile as you accepted her outstretched hand.

“Care for a dance?”, Martha asked you, pulling you closer with the hand that was still in hers.

You didn’t care if Harry and his friends watched as your bodies rolled together. Harry had never danced with you on a night out like this, never held you shamelessly in a club for everyone to see. Harry had never held your face so securely as he pulled you in for a kiss in front of everyone around you.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”, you heard beside you.

“Is this the boyfriend?”, Martha asked once she’d pulled back and let her eyes flutter open, eyeing Ethan up and down as soon as she had.

“The boyfriend’s best friend”, you told her, preparing to step out of her hold.

“Last time I checked, the boyfriend was preoccupied with someone else. Get him to come and find me when he wants his girlfriend. We’ll be right here”, she said, voice powerful and allowing no argument as her arms held you closer.

Harry never came to find you. The two of you left the club in separate taxis and you left with a new number saved in your phone.

You should be with someone else - Someone who is not myself

“Harry, you deserve so much better”, you heard a voice say as you walked into Harry’s apartment. You walked down the hallway quietly, lingering just behind the door frame to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“We’ve been together for so long, though”, Harry sighed.

“Did you not see what she did the other night? She was all over some other chick!”, a voice, Simon’s, exclaimed.

“Maybe it was just a mistake, y’know”, Harry tried to reason.

“She’s not good for you, Harry”, JJ, this time, said.

You’d heard enough. You turned the corner, coming face to face with all 7 of the boys. “Y/N…”, Harry trailed off.

“No, no. Carry on talking about me, it’s fine”, you said, voice lathered in artificial sweetness.

“Damnit, Y/N, it wasn’t like that”, Harry snapped, surprising everyone but you. “What are you doing?”, he asked as you started gathering a blanket off of the back of the sofa and plucking a hoodie off of the back of a dining room chair..

“Getting my shit and going”, you hissed.

“You’re being dramatic”, Harry scolded.

“No, Harry. I’ve put up with your bullshit since we were 18. I’m sick and tired of it. I’ve put my life on hold for long enough. You need someone, but I’m not that someone anymore. I’m sick of looking after you and letting your friends hate me just because you’re too much of a coward to tell them the truth”, you spat.

“We know everything, Y/N”, Ethan said smugly, rolling his eyes as he leaned back in his chair.

“So you know that I started my degree late because I had to get Harry sober? You know that he’s cheated on me more times than I can count? You know that I’ve tried for 6 fucking years to get him to love me as much as I love him and it’s never fucking worked!?”, you all but yelled, shocking everyone in front of you.

“You think I don’t love you?”, Harry asked, voice frustrated and angry.

“I know that you don’t love me as much as I love you”, you told him simply. “You cancelled 3 anniversary dates to go on nights out with the guys. You made me cancel a weekend away because you wanted to go to Dubai. You get annoyed when I try to do my uni work. You let Ethan and JJ slag me off, practically to my face, and didn’t say a fucking word”, you told him.

You looked at Harry, waiting for a reaction. “Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear my boyfriend’s best friends, people I’ve known for 6 years, say that I’m punching and that you deserve better? Did you think about how much it hurt me when you didn’t even flinch at what they said?”.

Harry’s face lit up in anger. “It’s not like you’ve been a good girlfriend!”, he spat.

“Because being a good girlfriend to you is like a full time job. It’s a full time job and I haven’t had a day off in over 5 years. So yeah, I’ve been a bad girlfriend… Boo fucking hoo”, you grumbled.

Harry remained silent, a sheepish look crossing his face. “We can try again”, he suggested quietly.

“We have! Over and over again!”, you exclaimed, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. “I’m exhausted, Harry. I’m tired of looking after you when I’m just as hungover as you. I’m tired of not making plans because I literally can not afford for you to cancel on me anymore. You don’t value me or anything that I do. Your friends hate me and you don’t care. I’ve been your last priority for years and I’m sick of it. We’re done. I’ll put your stuff in a box and bring it round”, you told him, voice losing more and more strength as you spoke.

“Y/N…”, Harry tried, reaching for your arm.

“Don’t”.

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infernal-fire · 4 years ago

Text

TAU (1/2)

Summary: Steve Rogers traps you inside his mansion. Your only means of escape? The naïve A.I., Bucky, that is designed to kill you if you ever step out of line.

Pairings: Dark!CEO!Steve x reader, A.I!Bucky x reader, Bucky x reader

This is part of a series of works (not interconnected). I highly suggest you read the description of the series master list to better understand the premise of this story.

Warnings: swearing, kidnapping, mention of sedative, technical Lima syndrome, psychological abuse, violence, blood, character deaths, injuries, mention of depression, suicide & poverty

The chair was on the brink of collapsing, yet Martha folded her arms and leaned back into it anyway. You internally grimaced, waiting for her to fall flat on her ass or give you the bad news. It had to be bad news. You had done this enough times to know that she periodically bounced her right leg only when there was bad news. These days, that was often.

You huffed once, loud enough for her to hear, hoping to hint that you were hanging by the threads of your patience. She took the hint, finally throwing open the drawer in front of you with excessive force. Pens rolled and a notebook slid towards her amid the force. Again, another piece of furniture that was ready to give in. For someone as stingy as her, you aren’t surprised that it hasn’t been replaced - just wondering why she’s treating it like it won’t disintegrate any second now.

Martha’s plump fingers slapped a couple of bills onto the table, her seedy eyes challenging you to pluck them from under her hand. You wrestled the bills out of from under her palm and diligently counted them, only to shake your head defeatedly.

“That’s it?” you snarled.

“Steal better shit next time,” she replied, shrugging.

You slowly sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, refusing to open your eyes and face her.

“I really need the money.”

When you open your eyes again, it’s because you hear the roll of her weathered chair. Now standing full height, the middle-aged woman shook her head softly, a hint of a smirk playing out on her lips.

“Like I said; steal better shit.” She turned to leave before facing you again. “You could always come and work with our girls.”

She glanced through the door that was cracked open, eyes resting on the table situated in the corner of the adjacent room. Around it, a group of girls set down cards while pushing poker chips around.

“Sell my body? I’d rather die,” you scoffed.

“Suit yourself. Now, get out.”

“Was planning to.” You flipped her the bird, knowing that she was watching you leave.

“Real classy,” she called after you. “You gotta come back here for your next week’s dinner, you whore!”

“That’s all you,” you smiled at her before slamming the door closed on your way out. Oh, the satisfaction of pissing someone off; unparalleled.

Placing your measly wage into a makeshift purse, you made your way back home. You hugged your frame tightly, keeping your head down and pacing through the dilapidated neighbourhood.

Once upon a time, when you were new to the shadier areas of town, you affirmed to yourself every day that this situation was temporary. The hope for a better job, better apartment and better tomorrow kept you going for a long time. Deep down though, you knew it wasn’t temporary, and now you were being proven right every day. What was keeping you going these days? Multiple times, you delayed the contemplation of that question, knowing that if you thought about it… well, it’s better to not go there.

You were careful to double-check the lock on your door and windows when you stepped into the cramped shower. Today, you thanked God for hot water, even though you were sure he didn’t exist. Mind empty like a brand new chalkboard, you shuffled around your one-room housing and put together something edible to appease the churning stomach.

Your ear perked up at what sounded like the creaking of the fourth floorboard from your bed. You locked the door. You were sure of it.

Still, you peeked over the short dividing wall that hid the view of your bed from the kitchen. Nothing. You shook your head at your paranoia and turned back to get to the less-than-appetizing meal waiting for you.

Steve jammed the needle into your neck, expecting you to fall back into his arms. Instead, your forehead hits the edge of your counter and you slump onto the floor. Your eyes shutting down and head throbbing, you reach out to feel your attacker and touch Steve with saucy fingers. He groans in annoyance as he picks up your whimpering form.

Thump, thump, thump.

The nightclubs you frequent were full of snobby, rich kids who didn’t know the value of wealth. You stole to survive. They could survive without their wristwatch for one night.

Thump, thump, thump.

Music turned the speakers inside out, deafening those closest to it, but the youth are resilient to damage in any form. For you, though, it was too loud; too much. It wasn’t uncommon of you to walk away from the scene with a pounding head.

Thump, thump, thump.

The inside of your head resembled the thumping of club speakers. Jaw slack and eyes foggy, you tried to rub your temples. But your arms wouldn’t move.

Sitting up the best you could, you looked down at your hands to see them bound by zip ties, sitting on your lap. It was joke-worthy how your captor thought they could bind you with zip ties, of all things. He would have to do better than this.

You tugged on the end of the tie using teeth and tightened it some more before huddling your knees up to your chest. Bringing your hands down as hard as you can against your kneecap, you awaited the snapping sound of the zip tie. Nothing came. You look at your hands again, realizing that they were still bound.

“Don’t do that,” a voice piped up from the dark corner of the room. Startled, you look to the source of the voice but no light fell in that direction. For the first time, you took in your surroundings: half of the room was divided by a set of bars. The other side had large machinery with wires running towards the jail section. As you trailed your eyes across the wires, you noticed a closed door.

At least you knew it was possible to escape now.

Quickly turning to the place the voice came from, you scooted backwards some more and anticipated the arrival of your captor.

A woman crawled forward slowly with bounded legs and arms like yours.

Seeing that it was just another prisoner, you tightened the strap of your zip tie again and tried breaking it one more time. It snapped. Rubbing your wrists where they were bound, you got straight to undoing the bind on your legs. Beside you, the girl moved closer and repeatedly begged you not to free yourself.

“Shut up, Brit,” you mumbled, referring to her accent.

The bind on your legs gave away and you stood up and stretched. Tentatively stalking around the cell, you noticed the toilet and sink. Why would he have those amenities in here if you were tied up anyway? When you went to touch the bars separating the room, the girl cried out again.

“Stop! Don’t!”

You rolled your eyes and touched it anyway. Electricity surged through you and you yelped, pulling back immediately.

“Could’ve told me it was an electric gate,” you snapped.

“Don’t try to escape.”

You looked at her incredulously. “And sit here like ducks, waiting for him to kill us?”

“Someone will find us!” she pleaded.

“Look at me! Look at you! No one is looking for us. The police won’t blink twice if people like us are gone. And he knows that.” You eyed the door that was inside your cell and looked to the other one outside the bars.

“Do you want me to remove your binds or not?”

The girl sheepishly looked down before sticking her arms out for you.

“My name is Peggy,” she offered as she stood up. She held your arm for support when blood rushed to her head. You shot her a withering look in response and she took her hand off.

“I don’t think we can leave. He can probably hurt us with these implants.” Peggy pulled her hair to one side and showed you the nape of her neck. A glowing red triangle shone from under her skin.

Your eyes widened, immediately reached for the back of your head. You felt around and touched the area that stung a little when you touched it. You compulsively hissed, realizing that your implant was fresh and the skin around it had not healed yet.

“Has he done anything to you using the implant?” you held and shook Peggy’s shoulders while you questioned.

“No, no, but he said it collects brain data and that it was connected to my spinal column, so I shouldn’t try anything.”

“He spoke to you?”

“Once. It’s Steve Rogers, the inventor guy on the cover of all the Forbes magazines.”

“Brain data,” you silently repeated as you look to the other side of the cell again.

“I have an idea. Rip your clothes like this,” you demonstrated.

Using the rags ripped off from both of your prisoner uniforms, the pair of you created a long rope-like contraption with a loop on the end. You stuck your hand through the gaps in the cell and tried to fling the loop to a nook in the machinery. Failing hurt, your arm accidentally brushing against the metal once or twice before the loop finally caught onto a crevice.

“That’s the wrong part,” your fellow inmate breathed.

“Yeah, but that’ll work too.” You pulled as hard as you could and a section of the machine broke off, sparks flying from the source. It crackled and caught on fire.

Peggy was pulling the cell door open, grunting as she tried her best. It gave way and you both looked at each other briefly before dashing out of the room. The jail room went up in flames behind you. Peggy looked over her shoulder, but you yanked her arm, signalling her to keep running.

You flew up stairs and through doors, finally making your way into a clearing. Peggy rushed to what seemed to be the entrance door and frantically banged on it.

“HELP!”

“That’s not gonna work!” you rushed to the door and inspected the lock. On the right side, there was a screen that displayed a handprint.

Do not try to escape. Only Steven can leave the premises.

“What?” you whispered. The new voice was coming from all around you, seemingly through fixtures in the ceiling and walls, but you couldn’t be sure. The situation was tense and you were scared the whole house was going to burn down.

Before you could catch her, Peggy planted her hand on the screen which scanned and turned red. Suddenly, all the lights emanated red, accompanying a booming alarm that blared through the house.

In the distance, what you assumed was a statuesque décor piece, came to life. It reminded you of the spiders from the Maze Runner. A motorized killing machine. It stalked towards Peggy and you with pincers appearing from its side.

Screaming, Peggy ran. So did you, but you weren’t sure if you were screaming. You couldn’t hear through the noise your friend was making on top of the deafening alarm.

The spider machine stuck out its knife-like hands, trying to stab you. As you ran into another room, you frantically searched for an exit. Right now, your priority was to survive this thing.

You pulled open a cupboard in what appeared to be the study and instructed Peggy to climb in. The monster was coming. There wasn’t much time to hide.

You shut the closet door and hid behind a lounging chair in the corner.

The machine came in and scanned the room, looking for your heat signatures. It could see Peggy.

The cupboard door flung open and Peggy shrieked, crawling out of it in attempts to move out of the line of attack. She took 4 steps on her knees and looked straight into your eyes.

“HELP ME-”

You screamed when she was dragged back towards the machine. You couldn’t save her anymore. You mobilized and ran back to the living room area, not even turning back to address blood that splattered across your back. It wasn’t in your best interest to find out how she was killed.

“Aries!”

Frozen in fear, you look to your right to see the entrance door open. There stood your captor, staring at the machine that was now hovering over you.

“Stop,” he muttered and set down his briefcase.

Aries retracted its pincers, making its way back to the little pedestal it was perched on before. It powered down just as the CEO stepped into the house and glared at you.

For a split second, the doors were open, and you considered tackling past him.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You collapsed onto the floor where you were already lying down. Getting out was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated.

Your hands were bound again, but this time, behind you. You were seated on a pedestal like the one Aries was on, except this one had an ugly glass décor piece that extended to the ceiling. You tugged on the bonds, hoping for some leeway, but Rogers had learned his lesson.

You shook your head side to side, trying to get pieces of hair and blood off your face. Eventually, you had to give up, slumping into the post your arms were tied to.

“You cost me 7 million dollars worth of tech,” Steve’s voice sounded from another room.

“If you let me go, I swear on my life I won’t tell anyone. They won’t believe me anyway.”

He appeared in front of you and placed both hands on either side of your thighs.

“Things will work out for you, if you just… shut up.”

You exhaled and turned your face to the right, hoping he’d stop invading your personal space.

“Just… please, untie me.”

He stood back and considered your request before rounding the side of the pedestal and untying you.

“Bucky?”

Yes, Steve.

“Activate Aries if she moves a single inch from her spot.” He eyed you at the end of his command and sauntered away to god-knows-where.

You hoped it wouldn’t be pushing your luck to stand up and stretch, so you did. You mentally considered the various stretches you did as a child, during gymnastics. It had been years since you recalled those, so you did them to the best of your ability. It’s funny how life works. One day you were among a row of girls, learning how to do a cartwheel and before you know it, you’re in a psycho’s mansion as a lab experiment.

About 30 feet away from this pedestal was Aries.

Cautiously, you took a few steps away from your place. No reaction from Aries. That meant ‘Bucky’ and Aries weren’t the same thing. You could also deduce from Steve’s command, Bucky was capable of conversing.

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position.

You took another step anyway, wondering how much you could test the limits of this A.I.

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position.

You considered making a run for it but reconsidered. Aries would activate in less than 5 seconds and Steve was still in the house somewhere. You needed to play this better. Besides, you didn’t even have an exit point.

You went back to your pedestal and sat down, drawing patterns on the ground with your feet. It would help to know the time or date. A part of you wondered if anyone was looking for you, but you yourself had answered that question long ago. No one looks for people like you or me.

It could’ve been hours or minutes, but finally, Steve called you into a different room. You observed your environment as you stalked towards the kitchen area where the inventor was seated.

“Sit,” he motioned at the chair that was on the other end of the table.

As soon as you sat, tiny robots flew to your seat and placed food in front of you. It was some sort of soup with a side of bread, the only utensil he gave you being a spoon. Smart bastard.

You wanted to hold off on the food; you really did. But you didn’t even get to eat the sandwich that you were putting together before the kidnapping. So you began devouring the meal, ignoring his pointed stare at your lack of table manners. It was only when you were halfway through the meal did you realize that the food may be drugged. Too late now.

“You killed my only other test subject and rendered her data useless.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

Steve dropped his steak knife and fork, shooting daggers into your eyes.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began. Clasping his hands together, he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his elbows. You could tell by the way he talked that he was used to getting what he wanted. He relished in it.

“Every day, for the next two weeks, I’m going to leave for work. And every day, you’re going to complete the puzzles and tasks that Bucky tells you to do.”

“And if I don’t?”

“It won’t take me more than 10 minutes to kill you, clean up the mess and dispose of your body.”

“If you could kill me, you probably would’ve. I know you considered it,” you remarked, leaning back into your chair and folding your arms.

“Now, why would I waste a perfectly good test subject?” It was his turn to mimic your body language.

“If you want me to do what you need me to do, I need three things,” you announced.

“It’s funny how you think you have any leverage in this situation.”

You kept your face stoic, trying to prove that you were serious about the negotiations. If he didn’t allow you these requests, you would never escape.

“Okay, go on,” he said, clearly amused.

“I need clothes. Regular clothes, not prisoner uniforms. I need to shower. And I need proper food, like what you’re eating.”

“That’s quite the list.” he laughed. Abruptly, his features turned serious. “I hope you know that you don’t hold any cards against me right now, and if I allow any of those things, it’s out of the kindness of my heart.”

It was your turn to laugh. “The kindness of your heart,” you wheezed between laughs. “Sure, okay. Yeah.”

He swallowed the last piece of his meal and gestured towards the sofas.

“Bucky will be guarding you throughout the night. Don’t think of trying anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you beamed at his sour expression right before leaving the table.

Masterlist

#dark! steve rogers #dark mcu #Dark Fic #dark marvel #dark!steve #dark!steve x you #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes #bucky fic #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x y/n

233 notes · View notes

flosbelova · 4 years ago

Text

they don’t know about us

i’m back with another story lmao. also, after writing this, i realized how ironic it was. whoops.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

florence pugh x reader

summary: you and florence have been dating in secret. however, when she’s involved in a dating PR stunt to promote her new movie, you start to get worried and wonder if your relationship will ever meet the public eye.

fluffy with a hint of angst.

warnings: language, smutt-ish (18+)

word count: 3.2k+

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

you and florence have been dating for almost a year now. surprisingly, no one has found out. sure, the paparazzi have followed you guys around, but you were always careful not to look like a couple. but because everyone loves rumored romance, fans had begun speculating about your relationship. however, both you and florence have denied these “rumors” and state that you’re just “very good friends.”

but the thing is, it kills you every time you have to deny our relationship with florence.

you and florence met at an after party from an award show and instantly hit it off. within a couple weeks, she had asked you to be her girlfriend and you being a paranoid person, you told her that you’d think about it. she looked hurt at first and you felt stupid for turning her down the first time, but you came to your senses and finally said yes.

ever since then, you have both lived quietly in peace. you noticed that florence seemed to be content with the way things were: “secret.” and since it didn’t bother her that much, you figured that it shouldn’t bother you either.

when florence started filming “don’t worry, darling,” you would visit the set often and stay in her trailer. no one ever really batted an eye because you were usually in the corner and no one ever noticed you. when she wasn’t in a scene, she’d quickly run to her trailer and attack you with kisses. God, your make-outs felt like they could last an eternity. but they were usually cut short as a crew member would knock and tell florence that her scene was coming up.

fast forward to now, it’s time to promote the movie. however, because hollywood is hollywood, articles immediately came out stating that florence and her co-star, harry styles, were hollywood’s new “it-couple.” this killed you inside, obviously. but you chose not to say a word to florence because you wanted her movie to be big and for her to get more recognition.

press after press, magazines after magazines, interview after interview, photo shoots after photo shoots, articles after articles, you fucking name it. “harry styles and florence pugh: hollywood’s favorite couple.” God it killed you to see it. it was EVERYWHERE.

your family and friends that knew about you and florence kept messaging you asking if you two had broken up. you had to explain over and over that it was just for press and nothing else.

but then, you thought about it. was it really just for press? what if she started developing feelings for him? what if she actually leaves me for him? am i not good enough? why do we have to be secret? would it kill her reputation if we said anything?

these questions were racing through your mind like crazy. finally, after much thinking and trying your best to meditate on it, you decide to ask florence the question.

—

it’s sunday morning, it’s a rainy day in LA, what an odd sight. you get your coffee and take a sip, enjoying the sound of rain hitting the roof and windows. you loved the rain.

you hear footsteps coming from behind you and feel soft arms embrace you. florence rests her head on your shoulder.

“good morning baby,” she says in her adorable morning voice.

you turn your head to face her and give her a quick peck on her nose. she scrunches her nose and oh god, your heart might as well have jumped out your chest. she was so cute every single time she’d scrunch her nose.

y/n focus. you have important questions to ask florence. fucking focus.

you let go from her embrace in which you heard a whine from your girlfriend. you walk to the kitchen and put your coffee down on the counter and ask florence to sit down.

“babe, can you please sit down? we need to talk.”

you can tell that florence was caught off-guard with the expression on her face. she sits down across from you and looks at you with a worried smile.

“y/n, is anything wrong?”

you can hear your own heartbeat at this point. in fact, that’s all you hear. suddenly words aren’t coming in your brain. focus y/n. focus. you take a deep breathe and come clean.

“okay, i know we’re a secret and it’s fun being sneaky and all, but i gotta admit, it’s killing me. i also have to admit that this whole PR stunt relationship with harry is killing me. look harry’s a great guy and all but—“

“i know,” florence says cutting you off.

“oh,” you say feeling somewhat assured.

“y/n, you can’t hide anything from me. your face said it all,” florence says.

“your face said it all,” damn your expressive face.

“oh,” was all you could utter.

“i’ve started to notice when you started to get distant. in that moment i knew that it bothered you.” florence says afflicted.

you didn’t speak. you couldn’t think clearly. did i really get distant?

“y/n? are you gonna say something?” florence asked anxiously.

“um, what are we gonna do? i mean, what are you gonna do? are you gonna say something? it’s been two months since the movie came out and people are still talking about it—“ you ramble.

“y/n,” florence cuts you off again. “you know how this shit works. it’s the ‘hollywood culture.’ things like this aren’t gonna die down in just a couple of months, especially for something this big.”

“then what’s gonna happen with us?” you ask hopelessly.

“nothing will happen. we just have to wait until this dies down, sweetheart.” florence says, reaching for your hand, trying to sound reassuring.

you pull your hand back. it’s clearly shown in your face that you’re conflicted and angry. “florence, i don’t want to wait for this to die down. i’m tired of us being kept a secret. i’m exhausted of having to explain to my family and friends that we’re still a couple and that this stuff is just for press. i’m tired of having to worry if you’re developing feelings for him. i’m tired of having to worry if you’ll leave me for him. my heart aches every single time i see you both on the cover of a magazine when i go grocery shopping. i love you too much to let you go.”

florence furrows her brows and looks choleric. “why can’t you just understand that i love you? why can’t you understand that this stunt is JUST a stunt to me? maybe because you’ve been so busy being so distant and jumping to conclusions. y/n, i’m exhausted too. i really am,” she says, her voice breaking. “do you know how much it breaks me because you’ve been so distant? this past month, i’ll try to hug you, and you barely hug back. and when i try to make conversation with you, you barely respond. i miss you y/n.”

your eyes are filled with tears at this point and look up to see florence with tears falling down, clearly heartbroken and in agony. on instinct, you walk towards her and pull her into a tight hug. florence hugs you back and instantly breaks down in your arms. you stroke her hair and kiss her on her forehead.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper quietly.

you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you made her feel this way. it’s true, you had been distant. you had been so caught up with worrying about the “what if’s,” and didn’t think for a second about what florence might have been feeling. this movie rested on her back and she had to do whatever she could to make sure that this movie was gonna get the recognition it deserved. even with this whole stunt, florence never questioned your relationship for one second. you did.

God, i feel like a dumbass.

you grab florence’s face and wipe the tears from her eyes. it pained you to see her cry, even when she was acting. only this time, she wasn’t acting. this was real. this was a real life situation.

florence smiled weakly at you and quietly said in almost a whisper, “i’m gonna say something soon. it’s about time that people knew.” she sniffs.

your heart dropped to your stomach. you started to regret even letting her know. i should’ve just kept my mouth shut.

florence clears her throat and continues, “it’s good that you brought this up. for weeks, i’ve been thinking how to bring this about to the public— i even confided in harry and asked for his advice,” she laughs softly.

you look at her with worry in your eyes and florence easily reads you like a book.

“don’t worry, darling. i got this handled,” florence says smiling. “also, pun heavily intended.”

you roll your eyes and chuckle lightly and hug her tightly once more.

—

a week after your conversation, you check your phone and notice that it’s filled with a couple notifications. you wondered why since your phone usually had tumbleweeds passing by. you noticed that your calendar had a very important notification. you went to check and oh shit.

how could i forget?

it’s your one year anniversary with florence and you completely forgot.

what the fuck is wrong with me?!

florence barges in the room with a big smile on her face and a tray full of food. she sets the tray on your bedside nightstand and kisses you on the cheek.

“good morning, baby! happy one year anniversary! look i made you pancakes with chocolate chips— just the way you like it— and look! i cut the strawberries to make them into hearts!” she squeals.

you looked at her dumb founded and all you could do was grab her face and kiss her passionately. she moans quietly and moves to straddle your lap without breaking the kiss. you move your hands from her face and move it to her waist and pull her in closer.

florence grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in much closer, breaking any other space in between the both of you. you feel her tongue run across your bottom lip to test the waters and you slightly open your mouth and let her tongue slip in. you let out a soft moan as her tongue touches yours. she breaks the kiss to catch her breath for a moment and proceeds to leave trails of kisses down your jaw to the crook of your neck. you feel her nibble on your neck and you couldn’t help but moan.

the sound of your moans have to be on florence’s top list of favorite sounds because what she did next made you jump.

as she continued to leave wet trails of kisses across your neck, florence slides her hand under your shirt and squeezes your boobs and runs her thumb over your nipple.

you move your chest more towards her, but as soon as you do so, she removes her hand and moves it back to your face and presses her lips gently on yours. she pulls back and looks at you alluringly.

you give her a pout. “damn we were about to get to the good part, why’d you stop?”

she strokes your cheek with her thumb, smiles, and shrugs. she gives you a quick peck on your lips.

“eat your breakfast,” she says to you.

“you’re a damn tease,” you say annoyed.

she winks at you and gets up from your lap. she leaves the room and you grab your tray and follow her to the kitchen. you took the plates from the tray and set them on the island table.

“why’d you get up? i made that to be eaten in bed! do you not get the concept of breakfast in bed?” she asks sarcastically.

“my bad. do you want me to go back?” you respond.

“no, you already made the effort to bring the food here, so we might as well eat.” she says.

—

“okay, i have a confession to make. i kinda forgot that our anniversary was today,” you say embarrassed.

florence chuckled, “i know.”

“well to make up for it, can i treat you out to lunch?” you ask nervously biting your lip hoping for a satisfactory answer.

florence had always been vocal about eating out because she didn’t want your relationship to be exploited. and because LA was always buzzing with paparazzi, you and florence usually chose to get food delivered or, florence would cook both your meals.

but to your surprise, florence says, “yeah. let’s do it.”

—

you drove to this restaurant in west hollywood that most celebrities were known to go to. they always had good services and their appetizers were scrumptious.

when you walked inside, you noticed how many eyes were on you and florence. you wondered why and then you realized… florence was holding your hand.

you tried to let go but florence tightened her grip and whispered in your ear, “it’s okay,” and gave your cheek a quick peck. you knew damn well people noticed that.

when you finally got to your table, you noticed how many heads were turning. your heart started beating fast, chills went down your spine, and your hand started to sweat.

after you got your meals, you nudged florence’s arm.

“baby people are looking.”

she looks up at you as she brings her food to her mouth and says, “let them look.”

you went back to your food and tried to focus on eating, but of course, you couldn’t. so, you checked your phone and you guessed it, your phone was buzzing with notifications from your friends and social media mentions.

“baby, put your phone down and eat. we’ll get out of here quicker if you finish your food quicker.” florence says, taking your phone and setting it next to her.

you sigh and continue eating.

after you both finish, you look out the window and noticed all the cars and people passing by. the view from the outside was so nice. the sky finally cleared up and LA was back to being sunny.

you didn’t notice it then, but florence had snapped a picture of you admiring the view from the restaurant window.

“alright, y/n, wanna get out of here?” florence asks.

“yeah, let’s go home.” you respond.

you insisted on paying the bill since it was your treat, and made sure to tip your waiter extra money.

after paying the bill, florence stands up and grabs your hand. your eyes widened for a quick second because she was holding your hand in public, once again.

that same night, florence posted the off-guard picture that she took of you and posted it on her Instagram with the caption: “my favourite view. happy one year my love.”

you decided to check your Instagram and saw that your photo was the first thing you saw on your feed. you did a double take because you couldn’t believe that florence had actually posted you.

you checked the comments and it consisted of avid fans who were excited, shocked, and in disbelief.

“OH MY GOD I KNEW IT”

“HOLY SHIT WHAT??”

“wait, what about her and harry??”

“i thought her and harry were dating?? i’m so confused”

“florence!” you scream out from the living room.

“yes, darling?” she screams back from the kitchen.

she walks towards the living room and as soon as she gets near the couch, you stand up, and try to hug her eagerly, but instead you both fall to the ground. you quickly get up and help florence.

“i’m sorry, but what the hell?” you ask in shock.

florence furrows her brows and looks annoyed. “what do you mean, ‘what the hell?’ you tackled me—“

“you actually posted me?” you interrupt.

she changes her mood and says, “oh that? yeah i did. i decided it was time, and believe me, i was getting tired of the stunt too.”

you couldn’t help but smile. you kissed her so quickly that she almost fell. “i love you so fucking much.”

—

the next day, your phone was still buzzing with notifications but this time, it was double the notifications. you decided to check your phone and saw articles supporting your relationship, saw other articles that explained hollywood’s infamous PR stunts, and unfortunately, you noticed that some articles were trying to paint florence as some sort of “cheater.” this angered you to your core.

why the fuck would they accuse her of cheating? that’s a whole wad of bullshit.

you get up from your bed and walk to your kitchen. florence was already there preparing coffee. she turns around and yelps.

“Y/N!” florence yells.

you laugh. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you.”

you walk towards her and give her a big embrace. once you pull back, you don’t let go just yet. you give florence a quick kiss and finally let go.

“my phone has been buzzing all morning” you say annoyed.

“yeah mine too,” florence says, looking defeated.

you notice her expression. you grab her hand. “baby what’s wrong?”

florence let’s go of your hand and waves off her annoyance, “i saw an article that called me a cheater and i’m not gonna lie it ruined my morning.” she turned around to the island table and took a sip of her coffee.

you felt your anger rise up, but you calmed yourself. you wrapped your arms around florence’s waist from behind, and hugged her until she felt better. as soon as you do this, she turns around and wraps her arms around you, returning the embrace.

“i’ll be okay. my publicist called me this morning and said that she cleared up any rumors or accusations.” florence says, sighing.

“okay, that’s good,” you say, stroking her hair. you gave her a kiss on her cheek. “is everything gonna be alright?” you ask.

“yeah. i’m sure they will.” florence says in a hopeful tone. “whatever happens, i’ll be okay; we’ll be okay.”

you kiss her gently and whisper, “i love you, flo.”

“i love you more, y/n,” florence returns, and presses her soft lips onto yours.

—

a couple of weeks passed and you and florence’s ‘incident’ was basically last year’s issue. magazines and articles had finally shut up and stopped accusing florence of being a cheater.

you had wondered why they would even call her that since the relationship between her and harry weren’t even real to begin with. almost everyone knew that it was a PR stunt anyway, and yet, they still called her that. fucking hollywood.

however, you had noticed that florence’s mood had improved more within the weeks since she was finally able to post you. any chance she got, she would post you. as much as it embarrassed you, you kind of enjoyed the attention. you enjoyed finally being able to go out in public, hand in hand with your girlfriend, kiss her, without a care in the world. you both promised to always tell each other anything, and both of you would do your utmost best to fix them. all was well in the world. you loved each other and didn’t give a fuck about what other people had to say. and that’s all that mattered. you both loved one another.

the end

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh fanfic #yelena belova #dont worry darling #harry styles #writing #fan fic #wlw

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

Note

I am once again asking for continuation to hero breaking villain out of prison and comfort for the villain

After so much hurt, I definitely agree that Villain deserves some comfort! I got two requests for this as well.

I might respond to this one from @starnight-whump separately though-- I'm loving writing comfort for our poor Villain! For now, they're getting some much needed physical affection.

This is a continuation from here. Part two is here and part one is here.

CW//Past trauma, medical exams, touch aversion, screaming

It was a horrible decision.

Of course it had been a horrible decision. Going to the prison in the first place had been a horrible decision, so had accepting Leader's offer to 'view' one of their caged up zoo animals. The whole night had been a series of one mistake after another.

And now...

Now Hero stood outside an apartment door, chest fluttering with a mix of nerves and embarrassment, the likes of which they had not felt for a very, very long time. A half-limp body was tucked against their chest, weak hands gripping their shirt like a lifeline. That was the only thing Villain had done for the whole walk here-- held onto Hero's shirt, head buried in their shoulder.

With a nervous flick of their tongue over their lips, Hero reached forth, knocking on the door. Villain shifted and struggled as the extra support was removed, but calmed once more when Hero wrapped their arm back around them.

For a few moments, there was silence.

Silence as dead as that that they had been surrounded by upon escaping the vicinity of the prison. The pregnant pause of indecision.

Of course, it had been Hero's first instinct to head home. To return to their bedroom, return to where they had been before their life had been turned upon its head. There was enough room was Villain, enough food and water, assuming they still understood what those were.

But... That wasn't an option. Leader may have been a monster, but they weren't stupid. Hero's apartment is the first place they would look. If they brought Villain there, they may as well already have been recaptured.

So, Hero had come up with a Plan B.

The doorknob turned, the door nervously being drawn open.

"Hero?"

If they had had the free hand to do so, Hero would have waved, but they didn't want to risk Villain squirming around again.

So, instead, they decided to reply like an awkward idiot.

"Uh, long time no see?"

"Yyyes. Come in, come in. We can't talk out here."

Doctor retreated within their apartment, Hero hot on their heels. The door was quickly closed behind, the nervous doctor securing a number of custom-installed locks upon it.

The smell of the apartment hadn't changed one bit. A fog of heavy nostalgia threatened to take over Hero's brain. How many times had they staggered in here after a battle, before there was an Organization, before there were any real doctors to help? More times than they could count, certainly.

"Sit." Doctor insisted, and Hero certainly wasn't about to refuse. They settled onto a worn, beige sofa, dark spots showing where blood stains refused to be washed out.

Villain gripped Hero's shirt tighter.

"Okay." The doctor took a deep breath before exhaling. There was no frustration in their voice-- there never was-- but nerves made their vocal chords strain just the same. There was warmth in their expression, joy at seeing an old friend, but it was overcast. "Please don't tell me you did something stupid."

"I may have done something stupid."

"Okay. How stupid?" Doctor blinked, not waiting for an answer, before their gaze shifted to Villain. "I assume it has to do with them?"

"Yyyeah."

"What did you do?"

"I may have broken them out of prison."

A pause.

"You broke them out of prison."

"Yeah."

"I was honestly expecting something worse. That's still bad, but... Are you hurt? Are they hurt?"

"I'm fine." Hero shook their head. "As for them, I'm not sure. I haven't looked."

"Then... I mean, I'm glad you're here, but what do you need my help with?"

"I think something is wrong with them."

"Hm." Doctor hummed, gaze turning once more to Villain. "Hey, bud, what's your name?"

Nothing.

"What's your name, bud?"

Villain did not so much as twitch.

"There's something wrong with them." Hero dipped their head.

"Are they asleep?"

"No? Well, I don't think so."

"What exactly is wrong with them?"

Hero bit their lip, hand stroking along Villain's tense back. What was wrong with them? A lot of things, clearly, but what specifically? They didn't seem drugged, and they were clearly conscious, but their behavior was anything but normal.

"Um... Well, they've been locked in a soundless prison cell, alone, for over a year."

"Oh. Oh, shit."

"Which I assume is pretty bad."

"Yes, it's bad. Really, really bad."

Hero's hand stopped mid-stroke, pressing reassuringly into Villain's shoulder.

"Can you help them?" The words came out as a breathless whisper.

"I can try."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Doctor's exam room was probably the last thing anyone would have expected to see in a tiny inner-city apartment.

It wasn't completely sterile, not like one would expect in a real hospital. The carpet had been replaced by tile, but the wallpaper and ceiling remained the same as the rest of the apartment. The metal exam table in the center contained no fancy gadgets, consisting of little more than a stainless steel slab and a pillow wrapped in plastic. At the very least, the cupboards and hanging pieces of medical equipment provided some sense of authenticity to the setup.

"We're going to need to get them onto the table." Doctor nodded, strolling into the room before shutting the door behind themself. "Do you think they can sit up on their own?"

"They were earlier."

"Then put them on the table, please. I'll need to get a better look."

Hero nodded. The limp body they carried did not seem to react to the words. They seemed so comfortable, so desperate to stay in their grasp-- but Doctor knew what they were talking about.

Prying Villain off of their shirt was an effort in and of itself. Once their grip was finally released, they hung in the air like dead weight, allowing themself to be placed on the table without fight. Not that they were aware enough to struggle-- their eyes still sat blank, like staring back at a piece of taxidermy.

"Can you see the problem?" Hero asked impatiently.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... They're acting so weird. There's gotta be something wrong with them, right? Did they hit their head? I don't see a bruise..."

Doctor looked to Hero. Why was there such pity in their gaze?

"Hero..." They exhaled. "Physically, your friend here looks fine. They could benefit from putting on a bit more weight, but otherwise..."

"They're not hurt?"

"No."

"Then..."

"Whatever is going on with them, it's in their mind. Hero, who is this?"

"It was Villain. One of the villains."

"And they were alone for so long."

Hero nodded feebly.

"Is there some kind of... some kind of medicine? Or treatment? To wake them up? To make them themself again?"

"No. No, Hero." A pitied shake of the head. "This isn't sickness. This isn't injury. This is trauma."

"Someone hurt them?"

"The opposite. Being that isolated for that long, it does something to the brain."

"They..."

"This happened slowly." This time, Doctor nodded, as though answering a question Hero hadn't even known they had. "Over months, probably. Solitude and silence, it broke them."

That was what Villain was. Not hurt, not injured, not sick. Broken. The very core of them, shattered into nothing, and without a single wound being inflicted.

They were staring at Hero. Almost. Their eyes were positioned in that direction, but they weren't looking at anything at all. There was simply nothing there.

"Can we fix it?" That was what mattered. Villain had been broken-- were there enough pieces left to put them back together again?

"We can try. But that's not going to be quick. Putting them back together, helping them, it's going to be no quicker a process than that which broke them in the first place. Right now, we need to make sure that, physically, they're okay."

"Mhm." Hero nodded, the reality of the situation beginning to sink in in all its terrible detail. "What first?"

"Medical exam. If no one has looked at them in a year... Well, we need to do that."

"Okay. What then?"

"Then, we give them a bath. And some fresh clothes. They smell terrible. But right now, I need to make sure they're okay. Keep them on the table."

"I don't think they're going anywhere soon."

"Fair." Doctor turned, rolling a metal stand out from the corner, a monitor on its top and a plastic cuff hanging from it. They positioned the blood pressure monitor next to the table, undoing the cuff and holding it in one hand. With the other, they gripped Villain's wrist-

The screaming was somehow louder this time, loud enough to make the doctor leap back in surprise. A moment after they removed their hand, it stopped, leaving Villain sobbing and gasping for breath.

Doctor looked to Hero wordlessly.

"They did that when I first touched them too. I think they're just scared. It's okay, Villain." They tried to coax. "Try again."

The doctor bit their lip, but obliged, moving forward to again place their hand-

It was a more shrill shriek, this time, like that of a dying seal.

"Okay. Okay." Doctor breathed, hands outstretched in a defensive position. "Can.. Will they let you touch them?"

Hero tentatively reached forth, a hand upon Villain's wrist. The only reaction they were met with was that of a slight twitch.

"Well." Doctor muttered. "Then there's only one way we can do this."

"What?"

"You're going to have to play doctor."

"I'm not-"

"I know. I'll guide you through it. Put the blood pressure cuff on."

"Are you sure about this?"

"What matters most is their health. What matters second most is their comfort. If this is the way they want it done, we'll do it."

Hero nodded. "Where does the cuff go?"

"Upper arm. Make sure its tight enough to stay on, but not too tight."

It was just a cuff, right? It couldn't be that hard. They took the blood pressure cuff in hand, wrapping it taut around Villain's upper arm. They twitched, but did not protest.

The machine buzzed, the cuff inflating until the surrounding parts of Villain's skin grew red. Hero felt their heart flutter, as though they should help, before the machine made a satisfied noise and released its hold.

"It's high." Doctor reported. "But within a normal range. They're scared, but not sick."

"What next?"

"Eyes. I can probably do that, it doesn't involve direct touch."

Doctor positioned themself before Villain, a small light in hand. They leaned forward, but did not touch their patient.

The light was raised to Villain's eye. For a moment, they were still, before a whimper tore itself from their throat. They closed their eyes, looking ever so slightly away as they wrapped their arms around themself.

"Hey, hey." Hero didn't even notice that they were shoving the doctor out of the way until they'd already done so. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

"Villain, it's okay. It's okay. I'm right here."

Villain opened their eyes-- for the first time, they truly opened their eyes. Wide pupils looked at Hero, quivering lips seeming as though they wanted to speak. Instead, Villain raised their arms, weakly grasping for the person before them.

Hero obliged, picking them up with ease and holding them to their chest. They relaxed in a moment.

"Uh, Doctor?" Hero flushed. "Is it okay if they spend the rest of the exam in my lap?"

Doctor bit their lip, but nodded.

"If that's what will make them the most comfortable. Hold them still, let's check their hearing next."

Hero nodded their agreement, turning Villain around so that they faced towards the doctor. With a gentle hand in their hair, they whispered:

"This is only gonna take a minute, I promise. Then you're gonna get a bath and be all warm and clean. Just hold still for me, okay?"

Villain whimpered, and leaned closer to their new caretaker.

#call me #ask game #whump #villain whumpee #whump community

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y0itsbri · 3 years ago

Text

kinktober day 3 -- lingerie @gallavichthings

the devil in disguise

ian has a deep appreciation for mickey's halloween costume.

beta read by @mishervellous ❤️

words: 1.3k

"when you said you wanted to do a couples costume, i thought you meant with me!" ian rifled through his closet, trying to put together a last minute costume while mickey changed in the bathroom into his costume so he could coordinate with fucking tami. ian could have been an angel, but no, that simply wouldn't do.

to be fair, ian should have seen this coming after lip decided to put in an ungodly amount of extra hours at the shop. tamietti's went hard for halloween, and this year was not going to be an exception. he cursed lip for inadvertently stealing his husband away from him for the night.

this was impossible. ian banged his head against the wall.

"you die out there, firecrotch?" mickey called, voice strained.

ian was thoroughly confused with whatever elaborate feat was going on behind the closed door.

"no," he called, hopeless. he tried again, "you need any help in there?" ian reached for the knob only to find it locked. motherfucker.

"aye no peeking!"

"are you almost done? i need your help," ian sat back on their bed, sinking into their mattress and tapping his fingertips along this thigh.

he couldn't decipher all of mickey's mutterings through the wooden barrier, but the 'jesus fucking christ fucking gallagher' was unmissable.

ian grinned devilishly. he was always in the mood for a grumpy mick.

mickey unlocked the door with a click and stepped out in a red blur, discarding his old clothes on the floor in his corner of their room as if ian's world wasn't currently being absolutely rocked merely three feet away.

it took mickey a moment to realize that his normally chatty husband had yet to say a word. shit. maybe ian didn't like this kind of thing.

he bit the bullet and faced ian head on, only to meet a love-shook caricature of his husband -- wide eyes, blushing cheeks, and mouth agape, damn near salivating.

oh.

mickey smirked and flexed his arms not so subtly, "what d'ya think?"

ian unfroze from his trance, caught. he groaned and flopped back onto the bed, lifting his head and peeking at mickey between his fingers, "you're going to fucking kill me."

because there mickey was. clad in a fucking red, silk, corset cut just for his body. the red ribbons crossing in the front, carving his figure in all the right angles.

after a moment of deep appreciation and an unexpected awakening, ian allowed his eyes to scan the rest of mickey, which wasn't bearing any better for his blood pressure.

sheer, fingerless red gloves were stretched across mickey's hands, faded knuckle tattoos still visible. the glint of his ring seemed more prominent all of a sudden.

ian's eyes made their way up his arm, chest, neck. a sequined devil horn nestled into his dark hair and reflecting the low light of their bedroom lamp, giving mickey a literal red aura.

enjoying the show, mickey spun around, biting his lip. ian continued to ogle.

red fishnet stockings covered mickey's muscled thighs under almost-too-short-not-short-enough leather shorts embroidered with orange flames. pointed wings attached with some elaborate belting situation between his shoulder blades, and an arrow tail slinking around his hips.

"i think this is hell," ian closed his eyes, willing the blood to go back to his brain by the sheer power of force.

mickey chuckled darkly. "that so? ian gallagher on the naughty list?"

ian cracked an eye open, "what are you, fuckin' santa claus now?"

mickey smacked ian's stomach as he sat on the bed next to his idiot of a partner, "fuck off, ho."

"don't you mean ho ho ho?" ian couldn't resist.

"and we're done," mickey made to stand up but ian caught him by the arm, sliding his hand down until he reached the hem of the glove, inching his own fingertips underneath and sliding against his skin. his voice went deeper in the way that he knew made mickey melt.

"lemme make a deal with the devil?"

he tugged and pulled mickey onto his lap so that he was straddling him, knees digging into the soft mattress.

"what does the mere mortal have in mind?" mickey teased, voice light but eyes dark.

"kiss me and i won't tear your costume to shreds," ian ran his hand up mickey's back, catching on the wings clumsily before tracing his silk clad skin back down to his thighs. "you're looking hot as hell." the statement carried heat behind it.

mickey's breathing picked up as he considered the weight of his options.

ian grinned, trapped under mickey's control, but waiting patiently for the signal he knew he would be allowed.

a breath. two. three.

"c'mere," mickey leaned.

ian crashed his lips against mickey's own, his mouth a fire hot cinnamon. ian groaned. did mickey really have a mint for this? motherfucker thought of everything.

ian traced his hands over the mickey's chest as they kissed, following the lines of silky ribbon crossing back and forth. back and forth. lower. lower. lower.

the textures of silk and leather and skin mixing together under his hands, grasping at whatever he could reach.

mickey's weight pinned him to the mattress, helpless.

he felt fingers caressing his hair as his mouth felt warmer as they melted into each other.

what felt like an eternity in damnation later, mickey broke them apart. they took a moment to assess their equally disheveled appearances while fighting to catch their breath behind a laugh.

ian made a grab to pull mickey back in, certain he would comply, but mickey was quicker.

he rolled off with a grunt, tossing a half empty water bottle at ian's still body and nudging his leg when he didn't respond.

"you ready to go?"

"go where?" ian picked up the water bottle and idly traced its shape with his fingers.

a flick. "the party? tamietti's? your sister-in-law? ring any bells?"

ian sighed as he nestled further into their bed, "i still don't have a costume."

mickey waltzed towards their dresser, a slight unbalance in his step, and flung an old flannel on the bed.

"lumberjack. you've already got the scruff, thank you very much." he added quiety, grinning lopsidedly to himself. he was genuinely so proud he had convinced ian to abandon the clean cut army man look and to not shave for a few days to see what would happen and dear god was he enjoying the consequences.

ian finally sat up and chugged the rest of water bottle in one go before setting on their nightstand. it took a moment for mickey's words to register, but when they did -- yeah.

"you're a genius."

ian leaned up to grab mickey again, but he side stepped ian's attempts and straightened his outfit. "no sir, you gotta get changed. we need to leave like... ten minutes ago. tami's gonna have my ass if we're any later."

"tami better not go anywhere near that ass," ian grumbled, but complying with mickey's requests.

"don't worry, logger, you're the only wood for me."

"oh mickey, now that was bad."

mickey grinned as he shimmied in his satin outfit, smoothing over the wrinkles that ian had put there mere minutes before.

ian could easily stare at this image of mickey all night. as he was buttoning up his flannel, he made a mental note to buy mickey some more red.

"i think red is your color, mick." ian let slip, shoving his wallet in his pocket.

"yeah?" mickey grinned, "you too, stud," he ruffled ian's hair and pushed him out the door.

#kinktober #gallavich #gallavich kinktober #gallavich kinktober 2021 #GK2021 #my posts #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #shameless #mickey x tami

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! I saw prompt #196 and damn, I couldn't stop thinking about Andy 🥴

I hope this isn't too out there hahaha.

Work It Out

Warnings: implied noncon, cheating, two faced Andy

You hate everything. It feels like no matter what you do, you can't win. You're starving, you're sore, and exhausted. And the scale hasn't ticked a single number down. You were trying everything those fad diets and fitness guides told you. You just couldn't seem to shed the extra pounds.

Your days at the gym grew no less uncomfortable as you look around and see enviable bodies, younger, older, all of the above. Every body that wasn't yours.

You turn up the belt until you're jogging, almost too fast until you're sure you'll fall on your face. You try to meter your pants and keep from hanging your mouth open, instead puffing through your nose.

You wipe your forehead and feel a trickle of sweat on your lip as you brace the metal handbars and keep your feet moving. You bat away droplets with your lashes and flick away that on your lip with your tongue. You shakily pull on your shirt to air out the dampness and nearly stumble.

“Did you just look me up and down and bite your lip?" The deep voice startles you and you clasp tightly to the machines as your soles crash down clumsily, "Cause if you did, we’re having sex right now.”

You saw the man every day as you went to the same treadmill. You would guess he's 40, maybe older, and in peak shape for one half his age. He leans an elbow on your machine as you gape at him and stammer at how he arches a brow. Your grip slips and you go hurtling back as you fall to your knees and fly off the back of the machine.

"Oh shit," you hear him as you catch yourself on your hands and gasp for air, muscles shaking, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break your concentration."

You hear a beep and the belt stills before he nears you. He kneels down and touches your shoulder as you lift your head.

"I think… um, I misread the situation, I thought you were looking at me," he chuckles nervously, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you sit back on your heels and rub your hip, "just mortified."

"I really didn't…" he pauses and drops his hand from your shoulder, "wow, I should be embarrassed. These last two weeks I thought… well I thought you were looking at me and, geez, that guy on the lift machine must have thought I was winking at him."

"I don't know--" you touch your chest as you catch your breath, "what?"

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he shrugs and stands up, offering his hand, "get a bit carried away watching you… that sounds weird, I'm sorry."

You take his hand and let him pull you up. You nod and smile awkwardly. "I'm flattered," you say thinly, "but… what would your wife think?"

You let go of his hand and look pointedly at his ring. He gives a tight-lipped smile and sucks his teeth, "separated… I just, uh, feel naked without it."

"Oh, sorry," you cringe, "that sounds, uh, complicated."

"Not really, just had to go to a new gym so I didn't see her with the other man," he scoffs, "that's too much information, huh?"

"You know, you just watched me land on my ass, I wouldn't worry about it," you wave him off, "but uh…" you try not to let your eyes drift but they do. He's fit and fine and you can't imagine any woman cheating on him but that ring was a problem, "look, I do mean it, it's flattering but I'd rather wait until you can take the ring off. It's… not something I wanna step in, you know?"

"Makes sense," his smile fell, "so…" he wiggles the ring off and tucks it into his pocket.

"Um," you look around but no one else seems to notice you or the man.

"Oh uh that was just an awful line," he shakes his head, "we can start with drinks."

You squint at him and bite your lip. His eyes follow and you make yourself stop.

"That's so hot," he says, "you sure you weren't looking at me?"

"You sure you were looking at me?" You counter, "uh, a drink sounds… fine but I might stick to water, as you saw I'm not great on my feet."

"Sure, I gotta finish my cool down but do you know The Frog?"

"Yeah, just down the block," you fill in.

"I'll be there at…" he checks his apple watch, "seven? Can I expect you?"

"Mhmmm," you nod nervously, half disbelieving and half humiliated.

"Andy," he offers his name and his hand. You shake it and give your own.

He winks and you try to hold a smile. You watch him go back to the weight bench before you retrieve your water bottle and retreat. You could hit the shower before the bsr and at least save a little face.

💪

You walk into the bar before you can lose your nerve. You look around in the dim light, certain this is a cruel trick. That man could not be interested in you. Even if he was halfway a divorce, it was too good to be true. You won't be surprised if you're stood up.

"Hey," you see the wave of the hand and hear the half shout.

You let out your breath and cross to the tall table in the corner. You smile and climb up on the stool across from Andy. He returns the gesture and looks over as a server approaches.

"Are we finally ready?" She asks sweetly.

"Stella," he orders and nods at you. You order a diet coke and the server smiles at Andy before she walks away.

"I hope you weren't waiting long," you say.

"Nope," he says coolly, "you know, one drink couldn't hurt. It might ease the sting a little from earlier too."

"Hmm," you grin sheepishly, "there's not enough gin in the world for that."

"Oh, a gin girl, I'll keep that in mind," he smirks, "so how was the rest of your work out?"

"A work out," you scoff, "I thought exercise was supposed to be relaxing."

"Certain kinds are more effective," he lifts a brow and you roll your eyes at the flirty remark.

"Wow, you're such a cheeseball," you giggle.

"I'll take it," he says, "I usually get meatball, all brawn no brain."

"That's yet to be determined," you jibe and sit back as the server returns with your drinks and you thank her.

"No pressure," he says dryly, "none at all."

You laugh again. This Is easier than you expect. You've never been the smoothest and he was probably the best looking guy you ever talked to. No guy with his eyes and his jawline saw you past the skinny blondes and stunning insta models.

You lose track of time and finish your drink. You excuse yourself to the bathroom and only then realise how Andy's progressively shifted his stool around so he's right beside you. You need to take a breath.

You feel lighter when you come out from the bathroom and pass another woman on her way in. You slow as you get to the bar as you find Andy with his phone to his ear. You near quietly, hoping not to disturb his call.

"No, I'm still at the office," he says, "yeah… no I forgot to grab the dry cleaning, Laurie. Tomorrow, okay? Right, bye, hon."

He hangs up and you realise he's lying to the woman on the phone and you. You brush by his seat and grab your purse from the back of the chair where you slung it. He flinches as you pull out your wallet.

"So Laurie, that your wife?" You pick through your bills, "doesn't sound like you're separated."

"Woah, come on, let me explain," he tries to push your wallet away and you toss a five on the table, the tip would be as much as the drink itself.

"Explain what?" You rolls your eyes and scowl, "I'm so stupid."

You storm away and hear him shuffle before his stool wobbles and his steps follow you out into the night. He catches your arm and pulls you back before you can hail a cab.

"Look, I…" he drops his head, "we may as well be separated okay? She hasn't touched me in over a year, I sleep on the couch in my office… all we do is fight."

"So? Either get counselling or cut ties, but I'm not fucking with a married man--"

"I… I'm waiting until my son goes to college," he says desperately as you shrug him off.

"And in the meantime what? You pick up fat girls at the gym to fill the void--"

"You're the only girl--"

"Besides your wife," you spit, "wow, I feel special."

You turn and try to raise your hand. It's caught in mid air and you're pulled back by the back of your shirt. You look around but you're too far down for the bouncer to see you and there's no one else passing by.

Andy's thick arm snakes around your neck and his bicep pushes your chin up. He drags you around the corner and forces you toward an SUV. You bring your feet up and hit the side with your soles.

"The fuck?"

"Please, don't act like I'm not doing you a favour, honey," he gropes your ass as you struggle with him.

"Get off," you grunt as his hand slips over your hip and he turns you as he rips the door open.

"Shhh," he pushes you up into the back seat and you slip down on the floor.

You push yourself up and huff on your stomach. You reach to the other door as he climbs in behind you and the doors click as you grab the handle. He straddles your ass as his hand covers your mouth and he bends over you.

He presses his cheek to your temple and hushes you again. You see the shadows of pedestrians and their voices as they pass just outside. You murmur into his palm and claw at the door helplessly. Their steps fade into the distance as Andy grinds his crotch against your ass.

"Honey," he growls through his teeth, "I know you were looking at me…"

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #drabble #ask #request

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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 4 years ago

Text

The Couple Next Door IX (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part Eight Here

A/N: Surprise! I’m briefly back from a year-long Hiatus and I have one chapter for TCND, one for ATU AND a George Harrison one-shot I’m just gonna drop and then probably disappear again for another few months. I’m also finding it even more difficult to write for Roger seeing as I’ve kinda been listening to nothing but The Beatles for the last fifteen months and I really only hear Queen at work, so that’s gotta change. But I am very sorry about the LONG wait. I really do appreciate you guys, and I think you’ve all waited quite long enough to find out what happens next...

Summary: Roger and Y/N spend the morning taking care of Bobby; they talk a little more about the future and come to the conclusion they both want the same thing.

(Let your imagination run free, bc this can be either Canon or Borhap!Roger)

WARNINGS: Swearing is probably a given at this point, self-doubt, mentions/ suggestions of sex (advise you to avoid if you’re under 18), and I usually revise when I’m stoned so there’s probably some typos in here too, sorry.

Rated T for Teen-- (I feel like a video game rating smh)

Bobby was crying again.

Granted, it was about seven in the morning, and he did sleep for the rest of the night.

Roger was the last of the both of you to wake up; not because of the crying-- he didn't even hear the crying-- but he was wrapped up in the blankets with you, and you were trying to remove yourself from his grasp.

"Don't leave," Roger grumbled as he pulled you tightly against his chest, eyes remaining closed as you whispered back to him.

"But I have to go. Baby's cryin'."

Roger loosened his grip on you, much to his dismay, and you slipped from his embrace, leaving him cold, and alone.

"Come back, Baby..." He really hoped his gravelly plea would entice you to return from the nursery after tending to Bobby, and although you were probably against having sex in your friends' bed, he figured there was no harm in testing the waters.

"That's not how that works when you have a baby, Rog. The day starts now."

Roger groaned in protest, but as he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, he revealed to himself that you were no longer in the room, and the baby's cries settled when he heard your voice float down the hall from the nursery room.

Roger, as much as he didn't want to, tossed the comforter off of his body, and after rising to his feet and combing his fingers through his hair, he shuffled out of the bedroom and made a beeline to the stairs.

He was glad he was familiar with John's kitchen; because he was certain you had no idea where anything was, meaning he would be the one preparing breakfast that morning, and the one following it, most likely.

Fuck it, he would (try to) cook you up seven different meals a day if you asked him.

Anything for you.

He put the kettle on, and moved to the pantry in search for John's teabags, yawning lightly as he pulled the door open.

Nothing in the pantry really stuck out to him as being a good breakfast that morning, so Roger ended up migrating to the fridge after retrieving the tea, where his eyes fell on the carton of eggs on the bottom shelf.

He settled on making French Toast for breakfast seeing as he, according to you, made the best French Toast in England.

So he got to work whipping up some eggs and pulling four slices of bread from the bread box on the counter-- but not before he got one of Bobby's bottles out for you, warmed it, and placed it on the kitchen table.

Roger was frying the French Toast in no time, and he hummed gently as he busied himself with focusing on the now whistling kettle, and when the right time to flip the toast would be.

"... I thought you were still in bed," your words were sudden, and it made Roger jump a little. But when he realized it was only you, Bobby in your arms, his mouth contorted into a dopey smile.

"Nah," Roger turned the pan's burner down a little, and after he flipped the French Toast, he set his spatula on the counter, turning to face you.

"I was gonna let you sleep in, since you were so reluctant on waking up," you explained with a yawn. "But here you are awake, and making breakfast before me."

"Well it wouldn't be fair then, would it? Me sleeping in while you've all this work to do?"

"I don't know, would it?"

"I really don't think so, Dove."

He felt pride swell in his chest when pink dusted your cheeks at the sound of your new nickname, and he took this chance to swoon you further by pulling you in gently by the elbows, and he enveloped both you and Bobby in his embrace.

"Beautiful..." Roger's voice was barely a whisper as he touched his lips to your jawline, and you responded with a soft exhale.

"Even when you've just woken up," Roger mumbled against the skin of your neck, lips curling into a smile, "you are the prettiest goddamned thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"Mmm, down, boy," you purred back jokingly, taking a small step back. "Baby still needs to eat."

"Well yours is coming right up," he teased, "and Bobby's is already at the table." Roger pointed to the bottle on the other side of the room before tapping your rear. "Take a seat, and I'll bring your food over."

You didn't have to be told twice. You took a seat at the table, and although Bobby was growing a little agitated, it was short lived when you put the bottle of milk in his possession.

Roger, not five minutes after you sat down, joined you at the table with your French Toast and your mug of tea, made just the way you liked it, of course.

"'S the right tea, yeah?"

You took a quick look at the label hanging from the mug.

"Yep." Your eyes squinted after letting the label fall where the string tied to it would let it. "Y'know, you've been making my tea right for months, you don't have to check to make sure you're right."

"You know I'm always gonna make sure it's to your liking."

"And I love you for it."

"Hopefully for other things too. I'm not just good at being your barista."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm not overlooking your other good traits," you smiled as you brought your mug to your lips and having the first sip of tea of the day.

As Roger sat down next to you with his own plate of food and mug of tea, he decided to wait on Bobby to finish so he could eat with you.

So, naturally, he took the time to evaluate again what kind of situation he was in.

There was nothing like watching you care for Bobby. Roger had known you for years, and not once in his life did he ever think he would be sitting next to you at breakfast while feeding a baby, whether or not the child was his own, or yours.

The whole scene looked too good to be true, though like the previous night, Roger just drank in the sight of you putting all your love and care into a child at breakfast with him.

How did you think you weren't cut out for being a mother?

This was in your nature.

The domesticity of the situation made Roger a little emotional. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to experiencing a breakfast with a family he'd built, and he spent every passing second filling his mind and heart with the beautiful sight before him.

"Y/n, you would make a wonderful mother." Roger's words left his mouth faster than his brain could register what he'd said.

You looked to Roger from Bobby, cheeks and tips of your ears darkening, and Roger was talking again before he could realize it and catch himself.

"Any man would be so damn lucky to have you. I honestly can't believe you stick around me still."

Your face was feeling real hot, now. Roger's head was still lagging behind his words, and clearly, he wasn't done talking.

"You could be out building a beautiful family right now, but instead you're babysitting with your best friend who you also occasionally sleep with. I just... I don't understand."

It took you a second to respond, but Roger didn't blame you. Honestly, he didn't even know what he would have said if he were asked the same question.

"... Well, I love you, Roger."

Your words were simple, and Roger knew your statement was nothing but platonic, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding against his ribcage.

You'd said those exact three words to him minutes earlier, but the context of the conversations contrasted their meanings.

"But we promised each other at the beginning of all of this that we'd be fine giving up pursuing family life if that means living with one another..."

"... You sound unsure, now."

The atmosphere felt heavy, and it was almost as if Bobby had known making noise wasn't in his best interest. He decided to finish eating at the right time.

"... It's not that I'm unsure. It's just..."

Roger waited patiently for you to answer, but you had noticed Bobby finished his milk, and you took the bottle from him.

You burped him, and placed a pacifier you pulled from your pocket in Bobby's mouth. You must have gotten it from upstairs before you came down.

"Let me," Roger offered his arms out for the baby, and you let him take Bobby. You'd stood up and moved to the sink to wash the bottle.

Meanwhile, Roger, who'd also gotten to his feet, was slowly walking around the kitchen. He was praising Bobby for finishing all his breakfast, insisting he was so proud of him, his smile wide and gaze adoring as he evaluated the child in his arms.

"It's just that. There. The way you're behaving with him," you turn to face Roger, finger pointed at him. "The way you're treating him as your own."

Roger's mouth opened and closed a few times, but after shutting his jaw for the third time, he decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to keep quiet.

"You'd make the most wonderful father, Roger. The way you behave with Bobby, god, the way you behaved with Raymond the other day," you sounded frustrated, and all Roger could do was watch you pace the kitchen, his sheepish face now a deep red.

"It's just that I would want the father of my kids to be just like you. I wouldn't settle for anything less."

Roger opened his mouth again to speak. He felt like his chest was on fire. Your thoughts were becoming painstakingly parallel to his, Roger had noticed. He couldn't get any words out before you started speaking again.

"Like you said last night, this job is giving us a chance to experience what it'd be like to have a family... and maybe I'm upset I did throw the chance to have all of that away."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, and all Roger could do was watch you and listen to what you had to say.

"Roger, I hope you know you will always have a special place in my heart. You're my family, you have been for the last five years of my life, and there's no doubt about it. But being able to have a child..."

Your hands ghosted over the robe's fabric covering your definitely unpregnant belly. "... I think I want to have children."

"... Y/n I hope you know I feel exactly the same way."

And then everything was clear.

Roger understood where his band was coming from.

Getting married to you would solve all your problems.

He knew what the both of you were thinking in this new moment of silence, but there was absolutely no way Roger was going to fall to one knee and propose to you right now when he wasn't even romantically involved with you.

And he just felt it would be very inappropriate if he took this moment to spontaneously ask you on a romantic date with the intentions of courting you.

"Listen, Y/n," Roger finally built up enough courage to break the silence. Bobby cut him off with a short cry, and Roger immediately started swaying the baby in his arms. Sure enough, Bobby's agitation ceased, and Roger could continue, keeping the movement going.

"Just because we're living together without families now doesn't mean we won't be able to have families, say, five to ten years down the road."

At this point, although it was necessary, Roger didn't really want to mention the discomfort he felt when imagining you falling for someone who wasn't him.

Your eyes were big and sad, lip pouted as you considered Roger's words. "... are you sure?"

The idea of you and him having to move out of the condo Roger risked the both of your love lives for didn't sit well with him.

You'd be gone making sweet love to some lucky asshole who probably didn't deserve to be in your presence, while Roger goes on a bender, gets ahold of some weed and coke, and sleeps with enough girls to distract him from realizing he'd thrown the best thing in his life away-- you.

He didn't want you to think he thought you were selfish. The last thing he needed right now was to feel guilty for making you feel guilty.

So he just nodded. "No house isn't forever anyways." When you didn't respond to his little joke, he sighed.

"Y/n, we're still so young. You don't have to commit yourself to anything like that just yet. Enjoy being able to go out drinking with me every weekend, and sleeping in on our days off. Your chance to start a family will come when the time is right."

You let out a shaky breath. Roger was actually a little surprised with how well you were keeping yourself together.

But his actions put the both of you here, and to see that this conversation nearly reduced you to tears had Roger drowning in guilt, even without the help of mentioning any of his inner conflict to you.

"I just hope you're right." Your voice was broken and your fingers were tangled stressfully in your hair.

"Hey," Roger's voice had gone soft again, his rocking slowing to a halt, and you looked up to find him with an open arm, awaiting your touch.

You slowly unravelled your fingers from your hair, and you gave into the hug not moments later. Roger pulled you to his chest tightly, his free arm occupied by the baby.

"Y'know... I made you French Toast to start the day off good." When you didn't say anything in response, Roger pulled away from you just enough to look you in the face.

He was giving you that same look he did at the Garrison's again; that unreadable gaze he'd achieved with those big blue eyes that seemingly bored holes into your very soul.

His free hand slipped up from your back to your neck, and he leaned in to just touch his lips to the corner of your mouth.

So close, yet so far away.

It wasn't before long that he pulled away from you, but Roger just couldn't keep his eyes off you.

"You come sit down and enjoy your French Toast, Dove. I've got Bobby."

"But--"

"Please?"

Roger knew he'd convinced you as soon as he said that magic word. Though you took a moment to look from the bundle in his arms to the breakfast you really were dying to dig into, you eventually sighed out a gentle "thank you," before taking your seat again at the table.

He came around and kissed the top of your head. "Enjoy, Honey." Roger took a seat next to you, Bobby still in his one arm, and the both of you ate your French Toast in relative silence for the first few seconds.

"... God, you really do make good French Toast, Blondie." Roger was smiling now. At least you were talking again.

"I only improved my cooking skills for you, y'know," he admitted with a mouthful of his food, though he didn't sound ashamed of it.

"And thank God for that. Cooking every other night sure beats cooking every night."

"You can say that again," Roger mumbled before shoving the last of his breakfast into his mouth. You still slowly ate away at your meal, and Roger was making funny faces at Bobby in between taking sips of his tea.

The telephone in the living room started ringing, and you stood up to go get it, but Roger immediately dropped his fork and grabbed your wrist.

"Nuh-uh. I just finished eating. You still have a little bit to go. Take Bobby and I'll get it." You scooped the baby up without another word, smiling when he opened his eyes.

"Can you at least bring back his rattle from his play pen?"

"Can do, Princess," he called over his shoulder as he approached the phone.

"H'lo?"

"Roger?"

"Oh, hey, John!" Roger tucked the phone's handset under his chin, carrying the telephone in his left hand so he could get Bobby's rattle.

"Isn't it a little early to be up?" Roger glanced at the clock, which read that it was quarter after seven.

"Biological clocks. Just wanting to checking in. Is Bobby okay? Has he been any trouble?"

"No, of course not! He's doing fine, John." Roger tucked the rattle in his back pocket when he found it, and returned to the writing desk where the phone was meant to stay.

That was something he loved about you. You always bought him pyjamas with pockets. The concept was cool, and being able to use them was even cooler.

"Y/n's got him in the kitchen right now," he explained, taking the handset again with his now free hand. "We're all just finishing up breakfast, actually."

"Oh good. How is she?" John paused for a second, his voice dropping a little lower. "... How are you guys?"

Roger made sure his voice was a little quiet, as well. "John, this may have been your guys' best idea ever. I don't know why I was against this in the beginning."

"Really?! What's happened already?!" John, everyone would have guessed to be one to avoid certain kinds of gossip, though when it came to Roger's business with you, he liked checking up on that.

"I told her about all that family stuff."

"And?"

"And, well..." Roger set the phone back onto the desk and scratched the back of his neck. "... She may or may not be having the same problem," he mumbled.

"So... so you both want a family?" John tried clarifying.

"Yes."

"Then why are you two not together?!" Roger slipped away around the corner into the main hall with just the receiver so he was a little further away from the kitchen. He didn't want you hearing their conversation, or John through the receiver.

"Well I'm not asking her here!"

"Then where? And when?"

Roger knew John was just getting excited, and his questions honestly had Roger brainstorming every possibility when it came to asking you.

"... I don't know, yet," Roger said after a while of thinking. "But soon. God, it needs to be soon." He didn't quite know why he was pressuring himself to ask you sooner than later.

Maybe it was because he was scared someone much better and more deserving of you (or alternatively, a selfish prick) was going to waltz in and steal you from him just before he had you for sure.

"Do you need any help with that part? I can get Fred and Bri--"

"No no no, it's okay, John." Roger leaned up against the wall of the hallway, fingers tapping the handset absentmindedly with his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

"You guys have already done enough, really. I... I think I'm good on my own from here."

"Well, I'm glad," John expressed to Roger. "It's not every day you need to help Roger Taylor get with a girl, y'know."

"This is different, and you know it."

"I just like to tease," John defended, and Roger could even hear a smile evident in his words.

"Anyways, Veronica and I will be home tomorrow around noon. Y/n's got our number. You two take care."

"Of course, you too," Roger was making his way back to the writing desk.

"Thanks. Oh, and Roger?" John added quickly.

"Hm?"

"If you two end up doing anything, for God's sake, please wash the sheets."

As John was speaking, you'd walked into the living room with Bobby in your arms. "We're gonna go and have some play time, now! Yes we are!"

Roger was too panicked by your presence to even realize you weren't paying any attention to the phone call, and he hoped to God you didn't hear a single thing John had said. "Yeah-yes! Laundry. Will do."

He nodded his head once, though John couldn't see him, and after saying their good byes, Roger hung up the phone.

He turned to where you were in the living room. You were looking in the play pen for something, and Roger suddenly remembered the rattle in his back pocket.

He pulled it out hurriedly and held it out to you. "Shit! I'm so sorry about that--"

"Don't swear, Roger," you took the rattle, a smile on your lips you both knew you were trying to frown away. "There's a baby here."

"What? He doesn't know what that word means."

"Well, the more you keep saying it, the more of a chance he has at that being his first word, and I do not need the Deacon Family hunting us down for teaching their kid swears." You looked from Roger down to Bobby, shaking the rattle gently and grinning when Bobby squealed happily and reached out for the toy.

You took a seat on the couch, and played around with Bobby while Roger went back to the kitchen to do the dishes.

From 7:30 AM to about 2:30, all that really happened was play-time and lunch, something Roger prepared. You offered to do the dishes, but Roger wouldn't allow it. He just suggested you put Bobby up for his nap. He'd fallen asleep in your arms during play-time, like he did with Roger the night before.

The both of you thought it was crazy Bobby would just fall asleep rather than cry, but honestly, neither of you were complaining. Quiet baby for the win!

Roger just finished putting the last plate on the drying rack on the counter as he listened above for your footsteps leaving Bobby's room. He dried his hands off with the dishtowel hanging over his shoulder after turning off the faucet.

From behind, Roger felt a pair of arms slowly circle his body, and he smiled warmly at the feeling of you pressed against his back.

"He asleep?"

"Mhm."

Roger's smile only widened as you inched your palms up his chest. He turned in your arms and pressed his hands against your hips, inching you closer as he leaned back against the kitchen sink.

"Well, what do we do, now?" Roger asked. He sounded like he was up to no good. With the sultry look in his eyes and the way the smile on his lips looked like he was repressing a naughty suggestion, he knew you knew he already had something on his mind.

"Well, I mean," your hands slipped up into Roger's long hair, fingers tangling themselves between the strands. "Anything, really."

You knew what game Roger was playing, and you loved how cute he was, thinking he was going to have you on your knees for him.

His eyes shamelessly raked over the top half of your body, and he squeezed his hands, still at your hips.

"What'll you be doing with your free time, Roger?" You took one more step closer to him, and he pulled you the rest of the way to him so your groin was flush with his.

"I'm looking right at her."

He was already strained against his jeans, and you just offered a smile, fingers tightening their grip in Roger's hair.

"Mmm... I kinda like the sound of that," you admitted lowly, half of a smile on your lips. You shifted your hips from side to side, and Roger tried to pull you even closer.

You rolled your hips against Roger again, and the cheekiness in his face fell with a look of long-awaited relief, and his head dropped to your shoulder.

One of his hands moved up to grab you by the back of your neck, and when he lifted his head to look at you again, his second hand dragged upwards from your hip to squeeze your waist.

Roger lifted the hand by your neck, and combed your hair back with his fingers. His eyes fell onto yours for a brief moment, and you could have sworn there was something he tried to tell you there.

You just couldn't read him.

But he didn't care. He pulled you in close again, and his lips were on yours.

You'd kissed Roger before. Not in public, but definitely in the bedroom. And they weren't very scarce. Honestly, if Roger's lips weren't somewhere else on your body, they'd be on yours.

But why was this feeling different from all the other times he'd kissed you?

He was being a lot less forceful and needy than he usually was.

His grip wasn't tight on you, and it wasn't like he was crushing you against him as if indicating he needed more of you, now.

He was holding you rather, and the hand at your waist circled around to press against your lower back. The hand on your neck shifted a little forward so Roger could gently slide the pad of his thumb down the column of your throat.

The both of you were holding your breath, and Roger was the first to pull away. The both of you sucked in some air, and before you could even draw in a full breath, Roger's lips were on yours again.

He pushed towards you, guiding you backwards until your back was flat against the refrigerator. His warm hands grabbed for yours and he pinned them above your head by your wrists.

Okay. This, was something you were used to. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for when Roger's hands loosened their grip on your wrists, and he was lacing his fingers between your own.

Your hands felt very small in Roger's. How had he never noticed that before? What else had he neglected to realize about you?

In that moment, he felt you pull away to breathe, and he looked down at you worriedly, fingers frozen, yet still laced with yours.

"I- uh... I-I'm sorry--"

"No no, don't be. It's okay," your response was very rushed, but you didn't skip a word.

There was about a minute of silence, your hot breaths mingling in the space between your lips, though your gazes were locked with one another, and you couldn't look away.

"Did-uh... did you want me to... to stop?" His question was gentle, almost sincere-sounding, but he still made no effort to move from his place.

"No. God, no." And as soon as you'd answered, Roger closed the space between the both of you again, his fingers unwound from yours to grab you by the jaw, and you just held his waist, pushing your body as close to him as he would let you.

He shifted around a little, and moved his leg between yours. You could feel his mouth bend into a smirk against yours, and he began to apply pressure to the apex of your legs with his knee.

Before long, as much as you wanted to resist it, you fell to Roger's submission, and as you waited for him to grab your waist and put you wherever, he hesitated for a second, and dropped his hands from yours.

You opened your eyes again to find Roger, face red, and staring at your chest. Not in an ogling way, but more of a method to avoid looking you in the eye.

He could tell you were looking at him, and he shifted his gaze to you. He itched at his hands awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as he tried to explain himself.

You just waited. You gave him time to think, and he had an answer for you sooner than either of you would have thought.

"I just... I wanna try something else. I don’t want to control you like I do every night."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but a good beginning to a demonstration.

"Will you come to bed with me, Y/n?" His offer was gentle, yet confident, despite offering a hand out hesitantly.

When you dropped your hand into his, all of the tension in Roger's being relaxed, and he quietly led you up the stairs, past the nursery, and into John and Veronica's room.

Before you could say anything he gently explained that he'd do laundry later, and then he pulled you in for another kiss he'd been waiting to give you since the last one.

Roger pulled you closer to him, hands cupping your face as his lips began to desperately chase after yours. You kissed Roger back with just as much vigor, but then he slowed the movements of his mouth, and guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Roger helped lower you down onto the bed, and he leaned over you, dipping down to kiss your lips again. He knelt between your legs, and pulled them up around his waist so he could lean in even closer.

You felt his hands squeeze your hips, and he pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth. You hummed lowly, your eyelashes kissing your cheeks as Roger pulled away ever so slightly-- just enough to pull his shirt off of him, and close the distance between your bodies again.

You tangled your hands into his hair, and he hummed in approval before pulling back just once more.

"I'm sure that's hardly fair..."

"What?"

"This," Roger tugged gently at the hem of your shirt.

"Why's yours still on?"

"... I never said it had to be."

Roger exhaled, and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head after you raised your arms to help him out a little.

He placed the palm of his hand over the smooth skin of your belly as he stared at your bare torso. And before long, he dipping down to kiss you again.

You reciprocated his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck and tightening your legs around his hips, to which he rocked himself against your core, and then---

Bam!

The headboard hit the wall, and Bobby woke up.

"Nooo..." you squeezed your eyes shut as the baby's cries began to reverberate down the hallway.

"Fuck!" Roger groaned, eyebrows knitted together helplessly as he climbed off of you. You both knew it was Roger who technically woke the baby up, and it was just silently agreed on that he went to put him back down.

"Dammit to hell, those separated headboards."

Roger opened the nursery door, and made his way to the crib in the corner of the room. Bobby's cheeks were wet with tears, and Roger's heart sank. "'M sorry, little guy. C'mere. Come see uncle Roger."

He picked the baby up and rocked him back and forth, though it wasn't exactly doing much, so Roger took a seat in the rocking chair on the opposite side of the room, swaying the both of them with a push of his feet.

Bobby's cries settled, and Roger felt proud of himself. Sure, he wanted to get back to what he was doing before, but instead he took his time in making sure Bobby was comfortable and not in need of anything before he drifted off to sleep again.

Bobby played around with Roger's fingers a few moments after his agitation ceased, and he couldn't believe how large his hands were in comparison to Bobby's. He was once that size.

A little while later Roger set Bobby down in his crib, and the infant was out. The drummer smiled at his accomplishment. He didn't even need your help.

With that, he left the room without a sound.

He stepped into John and Veronica's room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He was in the middle of turning on his heel when he stopped dead in his tracks.

You'd taken some of the pillows off the bed and wedged them between the wall and the headboard to keep the bed from making noise.

You were also splayed out on the bed in a lot less clothing than he remembered you in when he left.

With a teasing beckon from your finger, Roger knew three things were for certain.

1. You were the smartest woman he knew.

2. You were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

3. He, the Roger Taylor, had fallen madly, and helplessly in love with you.

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A/A/N: Again, you’ve all been waiting long enough for the next chapter, so here you are. i hope you all enjoy, and if my response is great with this one, I’ll see if I can spit out another one soon <3

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